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2996-sana · 5 months

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kookeu's divorced parents

summary: exes to lovers / could this be the start of a new chapter? nayeon let out an exaggerated sigh as her phone pinged, drawing attention to the message on the screen.

y/n: nayeon, i need to see kookeu. it's been two weeks.

rolling her eyes, nayeon swiftly typed back.

nayeon: busy week ahead. can't make it.

chaeyoung, across the practice room, noticed nayeon's dramatic reaction and playfully inquired, "what's bothering you, unnie?"

the question piqued the interest of the other members, who were lounging on the practice room floor after a tiring practice.

nayeon, adopting a frustrated tone, spilled the beans. "y/n is asking about kookeu again."

"sounds like a serious kookeu withdrawal,” momo said.

tzuyu, offering sensible advice, suggested, "just let her see kookeu, unnie. after all, you both adopted him."

"why have you been gatekeeping kookeu lately anyway?" jihyo questioned.

"rumor has it nayeon thinks y/n might be off the market. they’re preparing for a custody battle." jeongyeon, seizing the opportunity to tease nayeon giggled.

nayeon gasped and playfully tossed her cap at jeongyeon. "so what if she is? i don’t care.”

sana leaned in with an exaggerated expression. “kookeu might be meeting his stepmom soon.”

mina, usually reserved, chimed in, "maybe that's why y/n is so eager to see kookeu – she's planning introductions.”

"you two are relentless. kookeu is just a dog, and y/n wants to see him because... because she misses him.” nayeon sighed in mock exasperation. "i can't believe i'm entertaining this conversation. y/n just wants to see kookeu, that's it.”

"are you trying to convince us or yourself?" jeongyeon couldn't help but raise an eyebrow,

chaeyoung chimed in with a giggle, "yeah, unnie, and what's with the sudden detective work? last i checked, she was single."

nayeon, brushing off the playful accusations, rolled her eyes, "since when have you and y/n been besties? anyway, it's not like i'm jumping to conclusions here. two weeks ago, i was at her place, bringing kookeu, the usual routine, right? and then, out of nowhere, a new scent lingered in the air. now, i'm not crazy, but we all know y/n is practically married to that jo malone perfume of hers. so, naturally, i found it a bit suspicious."

"did you ask her about it, unnie?" tzuyu asked.

nayeon, adopting a defensive stance, quickly replied, "no! why would i? it's none of my business anyway."

the other girls exchanged knowing looks. despite nayeon's attempt to sound nonchalant, they were pretty sure she considered it very much her business.

"momo, i'll be off now," nayeon announced from her living room, catching momo's attention. in nayeon's arms was kookeu, and as momo approached, she couldn't resist showering the furry friend with affection, planting kisses on the small dog.

"are you going to see your other mommy today, kookeu? be good, okay," momo cooed to the little dog, who wagged its tail in response.

nayeon, feigning dramatic exasperation, sighed, "yeah, we gotta go."

during the drive, nayeon found it challenging to shake off her nerves and growing annoyance. how dare you be seeing someone new? and to top it off, bringing her to your place? though she tried to convince herself that she didn't care, the possessive feeling lingered. she justified it as merely being protective of kookeu—what if he started favoring the new step-mom over her?

the door of your apartment swung open, and nayeon couldn't help but appreciate the cozy atmosphere you exuded. clad in just a grey hoodie, you looked incredibly cute, and nayeon briefly considered going in for a hug but dismissed the idea as too awkward. instead, she gently placed kookeu on the floor, who immediately dashed inside your apartment and offered a small wave, "hi."

you greeted your ex-girlfriend with a grin, pulling her into a warm hug, "hi, nayeon. i missed you," before turning your attention to kookeu, adding, "and you too, of course, my cute little angel baby."

nayeon couldn't suppress a smile at the heartwarming scene. your affection for kookeu had always been evident, and one of the most challenging aspects of the breakup was being separated from him. although you both adopted him together, it was nayeon's idea, so you respected her decision to let him stay mostly at her place. but now, as kookeu darted around your apartment, nayeon couldn't help but miss this—coming home to you and spending time together with kookeu.

the nostalgia was interrupted by a familiar scent, the lavender that now put her in a sour mood. fond feelings evaporated, replaced by a sense of irritation.

clearing her throat, nayeon headed for the couch, engrossing herself in her phone. after a while, you joined her, dropping kookeu on the floor to explore your space. "how have you been? how are the girls?"

"they're okay," nayeon replied dryly, raising an eyebrow at your concerned expression.

"are you okay?"

"why wouldn't i be?" nayeon scoffed, glancing around the room, noticing the changes in your once-empty space. it used to lack personal touches, as most of your things were at her place. now, with new furniture and decorations, she couldn't help but wonder if you chose them with your new girlfriend. bitterness crept in. "i like what you've done with the place."

"right? i've been having fun decorating, i guess," you sighed. "had a bit of help, though, so i can't take all the credit."

nayeon raised her eyebrows, curious. "oh? from who?"

before you could answer, the doorbell rang. "oh! i had food delivered. your favorite," you exclaimed, rushing to get the food.

as you both indulged in the meal, she momentarily forgot about the new person in your life, and it felt like old times—sharing a meal, joking around. nayeon's momentary lapse allowed the bitter feelings to dissipate, and for a while, it was almost comfortable. however, beneath the surface, a part of her cursed the constant reminder of your shared responsibilities, especially when it involved seeing you so often. if only she didn't have to be around you so frequently, maybe moving on would have been a little easier for her.

her thoughts wandered to the desire to lean in and wipe the side of your mouth, as she used to do when eating together. and when you did something particularly cute, she wished she could just start making out with you right then and there on the floor of your apartment. god, she missed kissing you. it was a luxury she no longer had, unfortunately.

"you look really pretty today," you said with a flirty smile.

nayeon snickered, finding the compliment amusing despite herself. she couldn't deny that your attention had a certain appeal, even though she tried to keep things light.

the moment, however, was rudely interrupted by the intrusive buzz of your phone. annoyance flickered across nayeon's face as she quipped with a teasing edge, "is that your new girlfriend?”

confusion etched your features, "you're being ridiculous. you were the one who wanted to end things. why do you care about my personal life now?”

nayeon gasped, attempting nonchalance, "i don't care if you're seeing someone new. i just find it amusing that you're inviting me over, buying me food, and flirting when you have someone else.”

"so, you don't care then? if i'm with someone else?" you asked, a hint of skepticism coloring your voice.

nayeon hesitated before responding, "no, i don't. besides, she has dreadful taste in scents. lavender? suffocating."

despite her attempt at nonchalance, you sensed there was more to nayeon's feelings. "what about you, nayeon? i'm sure the long line of admirers hasn’t dwindled. who's been hitting you up this week? how many responses did they get?"

the shadow of past insecurities lingered, fueled by the knowledge of nayeon's charm and the potential admirers seeking her attention now that you were no longer together.

nayeon felt a mix of frustration and unspoken emotions. she wanted to assure you that no one else occupied her thoughts, that you were the constant presence in her mind. but right now, she couldn't bring herself to offer any comforting words.

“we’re leaving,” as she announced her departure, nayeon felt a firm grip on her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

you seemed weary, worn out by the misunderstanding. with a tired tone, you clarified, "there's no one new. i just wanted to try something different, so i got a lavender diffuser. see?" your finger pointed towards the diffuser a few feet away, emphasizing the innocence of your actions. "you're so stupid, nayeon."

embarrassment tinged nayeon's cheeks as she noticed the lavender diffuser on the table. "o-okay," she stammered, taken aback by the realization.

your teasing tone cut through the tension, "you don't sound like someone who doesn't care."

nayeon rolled her eyes, unwilling to admit how your words affected her. she opted for silence, gazing at the floor in an attempt to conceal the hints of vulnerability.

your sigh broke the quiet, and the frustration in your voice was palpable. "i... there's not going to be anyone new for a long time, nayeon," you confessed. "i don't know why you think i'd move on so quickly. i didn't even want to break up in the first place."

nayeon chuckled, trying to ease the tension. "no one's getting replies from me either," she joked, meeting your gaze with a hint of contemplation.

feeling the unspoken emotions, nayeon decided to break the tension with an unexpected move.

she closed the gap between you, gently pressing her lips to yours. so gentle you almost don’t feel it at first. you sigh against her mouth. your head is spinning and your heart pounding at the realization that you’re kissing her.

deep down, both of you acknowledge that it's time to figure things out and maybe give your relationship another shot. however, for now, you prefer to let your actions speak louder than words.

"wanna take this to my bedroom?"

#twice imagines #twice x reader #im nayeon #nayeon x reader #im nayeon x reader

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clarissalance · 3 years

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Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you?

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.)

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!!

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat.

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows.

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation.

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent. With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.”

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks?

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away.

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said: ‘Farewell, my comrades’.

For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword.

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

“ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone?

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground!

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.”

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department.

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you.

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them.

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years.

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out.

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed.

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?"

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button.

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful.

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?”

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him.

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank.

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes.

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture.

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike.

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you.

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground.

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes.

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks.

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating.

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry.

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch.

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up.

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby.

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ” His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent?

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo.

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort. Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what?

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you.

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you?

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action.

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about.

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day? You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now!

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm.

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more.

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist.

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering.

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure.

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route.

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack.

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can.

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder?

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back.

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively.

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go?

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.”

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic.

#kaeya alberich #genshin kaeya #kaeya x reader #no beta we kayak like tim #genshin impact #clarissalance #who has the upper hand ?#argument #fluff #tension #smart reader #strategist #genshin varka #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc

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britishassistant · 3 years

Note

So Yuu has:

- Mad-scientist Uncle

- Muscular God Father

- Cat-loving Grandfather (1/4)

- At least 7 different groups of admirers and potential suitors

- Deadbeat Bird Dad (notice how he's at the bottom)

So what about Sam?

Anonymous said: Sam probably found out about Yuu’s existence when they were like five or six. Divus was babysitting on Yuu’s parents anniversary and Sam was dropping off this week’s bottle of expensive wine and grape juice for some reason and oh shit, there’s a small child that looks like Crowley sitting next to Crewel with a bunch of Evil 101 textbooks and a half empty cup of juice

@pancake-mix said: I’m sorry for bombarding you with my asks. But I just thought of this. Sam hears about a human child Crewel had and probably met when Yuu wandered into his Black Market looking for a restroom or something. They talk for a bit and Sam takes a shine to Yuu and now Yuu has another encentric Uncle 🤗 that offers Yuu discounts or occasional freebies whenever Yuu visits his shop since Yuu lives of a minimum wage paycheck that they probably don’t get since they get kidnapped left and right. Just a little word of advice. Don’t ask Uncle Sam where he got the goods from 🤭

Anonymous said: I saw you mentioned that Sam has a bar in the Villain!Yuu story and I got intrigued. Sam maybe runs a cheap, but excellent bar that both Yuus visit in their respective aus. In both, he’s a informant on the side as his ‘friends’ got eyes and ears everywhere, but The Perfect’s Sam got extra incentive to keep his drinks cheap. Especially when it’s Yuu and Yuuken are visiting together. The villains just seem to flock when that happens and leave a little less than sober. He’s also a group of seven elders that take up his illegal poker table in the back that pay premium for information on shenanigans.

Thank you for the asks, dear anons and @pancake-mix !

Sam is the black market tycoon in this AU! He’s the go-to guy when the supervillains or league of evil need something that’s hard to get! He started out very young in the supervillain business, and has fought tooth and nail to establish himself as he is today—the fact that he’s on the board already is a sign of how vital he is to the League of Evil.

He has a chain of stores throughout the city known as the Mystery Shops. To ordinary people or superheroes, these shops are your standard corner store, maybe a little better stocked in the grocery and home goods department, but no more than that, certainly nothing suspicious about them beyond their slightly spooky black and purple skeleton decor.

To supervillains and minions, however? The stores host a variety of “specialty items”, hidden in a different manner in each store. In one you can ask a clerk for the online order you made and they’ll go to the back and bring out whatever evil goodies it was you bargained for. Another has a separate section for the villainous wares whose entrance is disguised as an out-of-order disabled bathroom. In a third, the tears of mermaids, newt tails, cyclops eyes and dark matter are right there on the shelves alongside toothpaste, cucumbers, and bin bags, all protected by a certain sound playing on loop on the shop’s PA system that makes non-villain eyes slide right over the odder wares and onto the more benign products.

Sam himself juggles visiting each of the branches he owns and managing his hole-in-the-wall bar, known as Mr.S and Friends. It’s a popular place for the young and old alike, as the drinks and food are cheap but tasty compared to other places in the city. There’s seven elderly regulars in the back who are always playing poker and placing bets, but no one knows exactly what on...

It’s not often that he’ll be unable to obtain something, but he has a policy of personally going directly to the villain who ordered it with an apology, and the closest alternatives available that will produce the same results. It’s a policy that helped him keep his volatile customers happy and discourages stealing from his stores alongside his...other defenses.

It’s also how he met Yuu for the first time, as they answered the door one time when he was bearing bad news to Divus Crewel about an ingredient for his latest monster, and Divus was babysitting experiment #Y26.

His first instinct was to ask where Divus had stolen ten year old Yuu from. Divus was not amused.

Little Yuu was more curious about Sam’s shadow and how it kept moving without him. They ended up playing hide and seek until it was time for Sam to leave.

When Yuu moved to the city once they got older, and stumbled into Mr.S and Friends with Yuuken while looking for a place that would serve food at 1AM, they both had a moment of Spiderman pointing at each other, before they ordered food. From then on, Yuu and Yuuken made Mr.S and Friends their regular place when getting drinks and food out after work.

Sam’s more like an oddball older cousin to Yuu rather than an uncle! He’s fond of them, but he’s just as likely to prank them as he is to help them, especially if they’re trying to ask him for information. He is glad that they’ve brought in so many new customers to his humble little bar since they made it big time as a reporter, even that merfolk trio whose restaurants are his competition...

He knows they’re all supervillains, but if he can get them spending more money in more places he owns, then he’s perfectly happy!

#ask #pancake-mix #twisted wonderland #twst #supervillain au #twst sam #divus crewel #twst divus #enma yuuken #twst yuuken #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 years

Text

Podcasting "Self Publishing"

This week on my podcast, I read my latest Medium column, “Self-Publishing,” an essay about the structural shifts in the publishing industry over the past half-century and how and why that has driven people to try self-publishing.

https://doctorow.medium.com/self-publishing-41800468bcfe

The tale starts with the rise of Big Box stores, after Reagan’s deregulation got Sam Walton to take Walmart national. This concentrated the “mass market” — the huge, variegated world of pharmacy and grocery and cornerstore spinner racks that were the cradle of genre fiction.

The big boxes demanded a single national distribution system, and hundreds of local distributors — whose unionized Teamsters stocked the spinner racks based on long territorial experience — collapsed to a handful of database-driven decision-makers.

The number of titles for sale fell off a cliff. Writers who had a single underperforming book were no longer welcome in the big boxes and thus no longer economically viable (remember all those established writers who switched to pen-names? They were trying to beat this).

Monopoly begets monopoly. The predatory discounting of the big box stores put the squeeze on chain bookstores and indies. The chains merged and merged into a duopoly, while the indies underwent a mass die-off.

Publishers were caught in this squeeze: the two national bookstore chains and the big box stores demanded extra co-op payments, preferential discounts, and more generous credit and return policies. The publishers merged and merged, down to six (now four).

This also happened with trade distributors (who sold to bookstores, not the mass market) — the industry collapsed into a duopoly (today, it’s a monopoly, run by Ingram).

This is a familiar pattern across all monopolized industries.

As David Dayen described in MONOPOLIZED, this neatly parallels the monopolization of health care: pharma monopolized and gouged hospitals, who monopolized in self-defense and gouged insurers, who monopolized in self-defense.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/29/fractal-bullshit/#dayenu

Both monopolistic trends had the same end-point: after all the companies had finished monopolizing, the disorganized group of suppliers and workers were the only ones that the monopolies could strong-arm. In the case of hospitals, that’s health-workers and patients.

In publishing, it’s workers and writers. If you work in publishing and your resume is rejected by four companies, it has been rejected by every major publisher. If you’re a writer whose book is rejected by four publishers, then you’ve been rejected by every major house.

That’s why writers are now expected to give up graphic novel, audio, world English, and other valuable rights for the same advances — with fewer companies bidding on books, the likelihood that one will pay more or demand less goes down.

In the 2000s and early 2010s, some writers hoped that they’d be able to sidestep publishing by allying themselves with a different monopolized industry, locking themselves to Amazon’s platform. But as competition from publishers dwindled, so too did Amazon’s largesse.

The authors who shackled themselves to Amazon now face tens of millions of dollars in wage-theft. The solution to unfair treatment at the hands of giants isn’t to ally yourself with an even bigger giant and hope for its ongoing generosity.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/03/somebody-will/#acx

A more promising sign is in the wave of mid-sized houses that have snapped up the workers shed by Big Publishing during mergers as well as the promising new publishing workers who are surplus to the Big Four’s needs.

These presses punch way above their weight, thanks in part to the number of great books that just don’t fit into the publishing needs of four giant houses. But as great as this is, it’s intrinsically precarious.

These mid-sized houses can’t stand up to the might of one distributor, one national bookseller, four big box stores, and one giant ecommerce monopoly. Earlier mass die-offs in indie publishing (like the American Marketing Services horror story) show how fragile this is.

Which brings us to self-publishing. There have never been more sophisticated tools for making polished, professional books on your own — Lulu.com, Smashwords, Bookbaby — and (thanks to layoffs) it’s never been easier to find publishing pros to help with that process.

But that’s not “publishing.” As Patrick Nielsen Hayden once told me (paraphrasing), “Publishing is identifying a work and an audience and doing whatever it takes bring the two together.” In other words, how do you convince people to give a shit about your book?

This is an incredibly hard problem. It’s the hard problem of advertising, religion and politics. There’s no established method for it because the attention wars are a race against adaptation — what worked yesterday won’t work today.

https://locusmag.com/2018/01/cory-doctorow-persuasion-adaptation-and-the-arms-race-for-your-attention/

If you want to self-publish, you need to observe books like yours, identify how they are discovered by their audiences, formulate a plan to do the same, execute the plan, measure your results, and change the plan and do it again, and again, and again.

Publishers don’t just have systems and experts — they also have multiple data-points, a stream of books where they get to try different things, refine their successful tactics, and try again. You have a data-set with one point in it: you.

It follows that if you’re not prepared to work as hard (and well) at marketing, sales and promotion as you did at writing, you probably shouldn’t self-publish. Doing those things won’t guarantee your success, but without them, failure is all but assured.

That said, the one area where self-publishers can sometimes outdo publishers is accessing (parts of) the mass-market. The vast majority people aren’t “readers” (in the sense of being people who regularly buy books, go to bookstores, etc).

Every mega-bestseller is just a book that succeeded with a tiny sliver of nonreaders. And you might know more about a community of nonreaders — a faith group, fandom, subculture or political movement — than anyone in publishing.

If that’s the case, and if you are both diligent and lucky, you might be able to successfully market you book to that group and even leverage that success into a publishing deal that brings your book to “readers” — whom a publisher knows more about than you ever will.

I published by first book in 2000. Since then, I’ve published a couple dozen more, everything from novels for adults to YA novels to a middle-grades graphic novel to a picture book to essay and short story collections to book-length nonfiction.

I’ve published many books, including multiple bestsellers, with one of the Big Four publishers, and I’ve also published with several mid-sized boutique presses (some of which have merged with bigger publishers since).

I’ve successfully self-published, including a $267,000, record-smashing Kickstarter campaign. I’m a recovering bookseller and I’m unhealthily drawn to great bookstores, which are doing surprisingly well (thanks partly to Libro.fm and Bookshop.org).

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/attack-surface-audiobook-for-the-third-little-brother-book

Despite all this, I’m keenly aware that runaway consolidation makes my position as a worker in this system intrinsically precarious. The wonderful people in big publishing love books and treat me very well, but they can’t fix the system.

I’ve met sincere, talented people at Amazon doing their best to support publishing, but they can’t fix the system either. Neither can James Daunt, a true hero of bookselling who has come to America to transform Barnes and Noble.

Monopoly begets monopoly. If any part of the supply chain is allowed to monopolize, the rest will follow in self-defense, and it will always be the workers — the writers and staff — who struggle to push back.

That’s why the current resurgence of both trade-unionism and antitrust are so important. In a world whose outcomes are more determined by power relationship than by good intentions, the only way to secure workers’ futures is to make them stronger and make business weaker.

The essay is here:

https://doctorow.medium.com/self-publishing-41800468bcfe

The podcast episode is here:

https://craphound.com/news/2021/07/05/self-publishing/

The MP3 is here (hosting courtesy of the Internet Archive, they’ll host your stuff for free, forever):

https://archive.org/download/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_396/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_396_-_Self_Publishing.mp3

And here’s my podcast feed:

http://feeds.feedburner.com/doctorow_podcast

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ididntneedanewfandom · 3 years

Text

BakuDeku Winter Week 1 - Reparations

"I'm home."

There's no reply to Katsuki's words. Granted, they were quiet enough that they might have gotten lost under the music playing softly in the living room. It's been a long day and he's too tired to even speak at his usual volume. The 'heroing' part of the day went fine; it's filling out forms afterward that completely fries his brain. He thought he was done with useless paperwork when he graduated from U.A.. No such luck. And to top it all, the unseasonable spring heat has been horrendous. It's helpful for his quirk, sure, but after a point it's just oppressive.

He's late enough that he'd have expected dinner to be waiting for him, or to have received a request from his nerd to pick up takeout on the way home. But there are no yummy smells to greet him--not even burnt ones as sometimes happen--and it looks like if he wants food he'll have to work on that himself. Any other night it'd be fine, but he's tired enough that the prospect isn't all that appealing.

Although...

That deep-seated tiredness seems to melt away when he walks into the living room to find Deku reclining on the couch with his back to the armrest and one of his notebooks propped up on his raised knees. He's wearing that too big, slightly misshapen wool sweater in All Might's costume colors, the one Katsuki always teases him about. How he can bear to wear that warm thing in this weather, Katsuki has no idea.

"Used to be, you'd be all over me when I walked in the door," Katsuki says with a mock-wounded look as he approaches the couch. "I guess the honeymoon phase is over, huh?"

Deku blinks those big eyes up at him a couple of times.

"Oh, hi Kacchan," he says with a small smile. "I didn't hear you come in."

Katsuki snorts. That much was obvious. Climbing over the end of the couch, he crawls up to Deku, pushing his knees apart to settle between them, unceremoniously dropping the notebook and pen he takes from Deku to the floor.

"Hey, wait, I was--"

Katsuki silences what was coming next by pressing his mouth to Deku's. He suddenly feels a lot better, but there's still room for improvement.

He lifts his mouth and body off Deku's just enough that he has room to tug at the sweater to get to the delicious, warm skin beneath.

"Kacchan, please be careful," Deku mumbles.

"Careful about what? You're not as breakable as you used to be."

Even with Deku helpfully lifting his hips to free the bit of sweater stuck under his ass, Katsuki has to work hard to get it off him. It's caught underneath him, but one last tug--

"What... What was that?”

Deku sits up properly now, dislodging Katsuki from his lap even as he reclaims the sweater from him with shaky hands, a steady stream of "No, no, please no" rising from his lips.

"What's gotten into you?" Katsuki asks, frowning.

"It felt like..."

He falls silent as his fingers find the large rip on the back, longer than Katsuki's hand, multiple strands of frayed wool hanging loose. His expression is one of pure grief; Katsuki's stomach twists unpleasantly.

"I asked you to be careful," Deku murmurs, and Katsuki knows that tone of voice. Years ago, it'd have been accompanied by tears. Deku doesn't cry so much anymore... But it doesn't make things any better when he's really upset. He just clams up, and fuck knows what Katsuki can do to fix it when it happens.

"It's just a cheesy old sweater, " he mutters. "I'll get you one from my merch line. Better quality and better colors."

His pointed look dares Deku to protest that--they once spent a very pleasant night arguing about costume colors in between rounds of fucking, and Katsuki wouldn't mind a repeat. But when he crawls back up Deku's body again, when he slides a hand over Deku's ridiculously tight abs, Deku slaps his hand away and shimmies out from under Katsuki until he can stand, still clutching the mangled sweater.

"It was Toshinori's," he says in a cold voice, glaring at Katsuki.

It's so rare to see Deku direct actual anger toward him that Katsuki's old defenses go back up instantly. Stinging words fall from his lips before he even knows he's speaking.

"Stealing from other people's closets? And here I thought you only stole my clothes. I guess I'm not that special, huh?"

Deku's gaze hardens just a little more, and Katsuki almost expects lightning to start coursing over his body. His voice is cold enough that it could put IcyHot's quirk to shame.

"He gave it to me. It was sample merch that never got mass produced because it was handmade and too complicated to bring to market. He kept it because he said it fit him in both his forms. He thought I'd get a kick out of having it in my collection, so when he was cleaning up his things before ... He gave it to me. And you just ruined it when I asked you to be careful. But it's not like you've ever cared about my stuff anyway, is it?"

It hurts.

It hurts because it's true--or was true. Watching Deku walk away, listening to his heavy feet and the banging of their bedroom door, Katsuki can't help but remember other instances when he broke or destroyed Deku's things just because he could. The fact that today it was an accident doesn't make it any less his fault.

Katsuki groans and runs a hand over his face. He really fucked up.

He'd like nothing more than to follow Deku and not let him walk away from him--how things have changed… But then what? 'Sorry' doesn't feel like it'd be nearly enough, and Katsuki doesn't know what else he's supposed to say.

Tired steps take him to the kitchen. He stands in front of the open fridge for a while before pulling out the ingredients for katsudon. He's really not in the mood to cook, but he doesn't know what else to do.

He's just about done frying the pork and already filling up two bowls when slow steps come up behind him. He glances back at Deku, who stands there in a t-shirt inscribed with the words 'boyfriend shirt', his hands in his pockets.

"I'm so--" he starts, but Katsuki doesn't let him finish.

"Swear to god, Deku, if you try to apologize I'm shoving my foot up your ass."

Deku frowns at him.

"That's what grow-ups do, Kacchan. When they say something ugly or something they don't mean, or when they do something they shouldn't, they apologize."

"And what good does that do?" Katsuki mutters as he tops the bowls of food with the pork cutlets and places both on their small kitchen table. "Words won't knit your sweater back together. Sit down."

Taking his own advice, he draws a chair and sits. He fiddles with his chopsticks until Deku sighs and sits across from him.

"Itadakimasu," he says quietly, his eyes on his food.

Katsuki grunts in reply and watches him take a couple of bites before he asks, his voice tight and low, "Can it be repaired?"

Deku shrugs a little, and briefly looks up.

"I doubt it. It's a big rip. It's my fault, I noticed a loose bit of wool before and I didn't do anything about it. I should have fixed it then."

And it's just so completely <i>Deku</i> to take the blame for something that wasn't his fault that Katsuki doesn't know whether he wants to kick him or kiss him. In the end, he lightly kicks his shin under the table, and when Deku glares up at him, he mumbles, not quite meeting Deku's eyes even as his cheeks heat up, "'M sorry. For ripping your sweater and for what I said."

Deku's foot finds his again for something that feels more like a caress than a kick.

"The food's delicious," he says softly. "Thank you."

And Katsuki knows he's forgiven--just as well as he knows he doesn't deserve to be. Not yet.

Seven months later

This year again, they set up a Christmas tree.

All right, so Izuku sets up a Christmas tree while Kacchan sits there and watches. At least this time he doesn't say it's a silly tradition, though he did insist that Izuku only set it up the night before Christmas. Seeing how busy they've both been lately, Izuku doesn't think he'd have found the time to set it up sooner regardless.

And besides, Kacchan never said when it's got to come down...

Izuku just likes the lights twinkling when the room is dark at night. And he likes finding hero-themed ornaments to hang from the branches. He has four All Might ones on there, each in a different costume. He doesn't despair of finding one for EraserHead someday. He has a Froppy one and a Uravity one--they're not licensed merch, just handmade figures created by a fan he found online. He's got an official Shouto ornament--well, really it's a collectible figure meant to sit on a shelf, Izuku just looped a bit of string around Shouto's outstretched hand... and he makes sure to hang it way in the back, so Kacchan won't roll his eyes and pout every time he looks at the tree.

There's also a licensed Dynamight ornament on there, and Izuku makes sure to put it front and center. Kacchan absolutely loathes it, because whoever sculpted it gave him a smile--a nice, soft smile, the kind of smile Izuku is the only one lucky enough to receive. Which is why Izuku loves it. And why he bought seven of them, the replacements stashed in a secure place just in case this one 'mysteriously' disappears.

After hanging up another handful of ornaments--they're minor heroes, but Izuku has had the chance to work with each of them--he stands back to admire his work. A little behind him, Kacchan grabs a fistful of his t-shirt and pulls until Izuku, laughing, stumbles back and into his lap. Kacchan's arms immediately wrap around him, holding him where he is--not that Izuku has any other place to be.

"What do you think?" he asks happily, watching the multicolor lights blink on and off randomly.

Kacchan grunts. "Don't think I didn't notice you hiding Candycane in the back. You should put a real candy cane on there, it'd look nicer."

Clucking his tongue, Izuku taps the thigh underneath his own.

"Be nice," he admonishes. "Or I'll put two of yours on there."

A huff against the base of his neck sends shivers down Izuku's spine.

"It doesn't need another one of me on there," Kacchan mutters. "But it could use one of you."

Izuku wouldn't mind, but his agency isn't like Kacchan's. They don't really do merch there--which Izuku is fine with, he agrees with his boss that the important part is to be a hero, not to sell stuff, and he's about to remind Kacchan of that when something small and green dangles in his peripheral vision. With some difficulty, he lifts his eyes from the tree and looks at...

Himself.

Or, well, a version of himself.

The figure dangling from Kacchan's fingers on a silver string is just three or four inches tall, but the details on it, from the costume to the pose to the expression on the face, are all exquisite. Whoever sculpted this--is it clay? It looks like glazed clay--did an awesome job.

And gave Izuku an absolutely feral expression.

Izuku doesn't know whether to laugh or squeal or just turn around and kiss Kacchan.

"It's a little Deku!" he exclaims, then laughs as he takes the figure in his hands. "A really angry little Deku!"

"Bet he's angry because Dynamight has been hanging in that tree with all these extras without him. You should put him up there."

Izuku is happy to do so, but not before turning In Kacchan's lap and stealing a kiss... or maybe even two.

Then he practically bounces to the tree and carefully hangs up his figure next to Kacchan's. They're the same size and fit perfectly together. It makes Izuku wish they'd get to fight side by side more often. Maybe some day, he thinks wistfully, they'll open an agency together. They've talked about it a few times, but they're still rookies, barely out of school, and while they technically <i>could</i>, they both agreed it was too soon.

"I love my present, Kacchan," Izuku says as he turns back to his boyfriend. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Kacchan says, "but it's not your present. This is."

His fingers drum on the top of the plain white box that definitely wasn't next to him on the couch just a second ago. Izuku tilts his head, wishing one of his quirk was X-ray vision or something. His fingers itch and he doesn't dare take a step forward.

"Do you want to put it under the tree with yours?" he says softly.

Kacchan shakes his head.

"Come here," he says. "Open it."

Izuku doesn't move.

"But Christmas is only tomorrow," he protests, his voice sounding weak even to his own ears.

Kacchan's lips stretch on a wicked grin. "Have it your way. I'll open it, then, and keep it for my--"

Before he can finish or slide his fingers under the edge of the box, Izuku plops himself back down on his lap and draws the box onto his knees. Laughing, Kacchan encircles his waist with his arms again and rests his chin on Izuku's shoulder, watching as he lifts the top of the box and reveals a familiar pattern and colors: All Might's costume.

It takes a good two or three seconds before Izuku recognizes the equally familiar ridges of knitted wool. His breath catches in his throat and he very slowly, very carefully lifts what he knows is a sweater out of the box.

It's his sweater. He knows it is, because there's a small, black spot of indelible ink near the collar; it was already there when Izuku got it.

It's the sweater he's kept in the bottom drawer of his dresser for the past few months, unable to wear it anymore without aggravating the rip but unwilling to put it away for good.

But when he turns it around, the rip is gone. And if Izuku didn't know exactly where to look, he probably wouldn't notice the repaired area. Everything matches, from the color of the wool to the pattern of the knitting. The only thing is that the wool seems a little newer in that area, less fuzzy than the rest, but that's only because Izuku knows what he's looking at.

"Kacchan," he breathes, but doesn't know what else to say.

"Is that all right?" Kacchan asks, his voice tight. "I mean, I know I should have asked first before touching your stuff, but then it'd have ruined the surprise."

"It's..." Izuku's throat feels too tight. He clutches the sweater to his chest. "It's perfect. Thank you."

After Kacchan kisses the back of his head, he manages to ask, "But... how? I looked for shops that repair knitted things but I didn't find anything."

Kacchan mumbles something; Izuku isn't quite sure he hears right. "You... what?"

"I learned to knit," Kacchan repeats a little louder, sounding embarrassed of all things. "My parents work with this old woman sometimes, she knits samples of their designs for them and then they have factories recreate the stuff. I asked her if it was fixable, and when she said yes I asked if she'd teach me how. I wanted to have it ready for your birthday but that shit took longer than I expected. I just finished last week."

Izuku understands all the words individually but he struggles to make sense of them all together. Shifting on Kacchan's lap, he turns to look at him, and is surprised to find him red-faced.

"You learned to knit?" he asks, unable to keep an edge of awe from his voice.

"I messed up your sweater," Kacchan mutters. "Wanted to fix the damn thing." Rather than looking at Izuku, he rests his forehead against Izuku's collarbone and talks against his t-shirt. "There's a lot of stuff I can't fix, but that, at least--"

Izuku has heard enough. Holding the sweater close with one hand, he cups Kacchan's face with the other and kisses him within an inch of his life. Soon, Izuku is wearing his sweater again. The lights of the tree keep twinkling, but Izuku only has eyes for Kacchan.

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stonecoldsilly · 4 years

Text

Thirty Days of Transience

Read on Ao3

The echoes of the song fade away from the valley, and Geralt sighs.

‘Look, bard, as fun as this was, and really, it was a fucking riot, are you going to fuck off at all?’

The boy blinks up at him and grins.

‘Nope,’ he says, popping his lips obnoxiously.

Geralt didn’t really think it was going to be that easy, but a sinking feeling descends upon him anyway.

‘What do you mean, no?’

‘This was a very successful first outing. You make a fantastic muse, truly you do. Already I can almost hear the applause we shall receive on our triumphant return!’

First outing, thinks Geralt, and outright panics. Fuck that.

He spurs Roach into a canter, and leaves the boy behind in the dust, hooting and hollering after him.

Evening falls. His camp is set up some ways into the woods, and he has a fat little hare on the spit. Roach is snuffling away in her nosebag happily, and Geralt is just settling down to note down the details of the incident in his bestiary when his ears prick up. A heartbeat, human, about half a mile off, and dreadfully familiar…

‘You have got to be kidding me.’ He groans aloud, and Roach sympathises. ‘He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.’ She waves her tail in his direction meaningfully, and Geralt waits. He is not going to dismantle his entire camp and flee from one little human, he is not…

The boy stumbles through the bracken towards the light of the campfire eventually, making enough racket to alert predators for miles around, and squinting directly into the light, ruining his admittedly already limited night vision completely. Idiot.

‘Ah, hello, Geralt. Come here often?’ He grins, and sets his lute down carefully, before slumping on the nearest log with a sigh.

Geralt just stares at him. That turns out to be a mistake, because the bard takes it as an opportunity to start talking.

‘Not that I didn’t appreciate the view, the mighty Witcher and his steed riding into the sunset, but really, that was downright indecorous of you, heading off without even a farewell.’

Geralt can’t quite believe this little pipsqueak is trying to scold him about his manners. His heartrate is steady, he’s not sweating with fear, he just looks up at Geralt sternly.

Geralt snaps his head around to look at him, letting his pupils dilate fully. He bares his teeth, sharp canines glinting in the firelight, and growls, ‘What are you doing here, bard?’

The boy just looks at him, placid as anything. Not even a tinge of fear.

‘You saved my life.’ He says, solemnly. ‘I certainly didn’t do anything to persuade Filavandrel otherwise, you did.’

Geralt frowns at him, and the bard cracks a little smile.

‘And if the, er, forgive me, if the so-called ‘Meat-Purveyor of Certain Unnamed Market Towns’, if you will, can talk down the quite justly furious Filavandrel, then it makes me start to question certain common beliefs, as it were.’

He just stares, and the boy unpacks his new lute carefully, angling it up to the firelight and admiring the finish.

‘I am what they call me.’ Geralt manages, after several minutes.

‘And what things they call you.’ The boy says, glancing at him briefly. Their eyes only meet for a moment, but still Geralt feels pinned by it.

He goes on the defensive.

‘It makes no difference to me what they call me. I neither need nor want a barker.’

‘Allow me to try.’

‘No.’ He says flatly.

The boy sighs, and sets the lute down gingerly, before swivelling to face him and resting his elbows on his knees.

‘Look, Geralt, at this point what on earth have you possibly got to lose? If you would simply let me at least make the attempt…’

Geralt grits his teeth and glares at him.

‘You could die. You nearly died once today already, you said so yourself. And then I get whoever your people are, swearing vengeance on me, and making things worse. This life is not safe.’

‘I could die tomorrow, of an apoplexy, or at the end of some bandit’s sword. No life is safe.’

‘You would only get in the way.’ Geralt tries.

‘I promise. I only mean to be a help, truly, not a hindrance.’

‘You don’t even have any supplies. No pack, no bedroll, no food. I am not babysitting you.’

The boy winks at him, and shoves his arm down into his trousers quickly, before revealing a handful of rather battered looking bread rolls.

Geralt blinks at him.

‘Told you I had bread in my pants.’ He says, and winks. Geralt almost cracks then, and he can feel a smile trying to form before he schools his expression.

‘Come on, Geralt, let me try. I owe you my life, and I put no little stock in that. It’s the only one I shall have, and I’m rather pleased with it so far. Give me a chance, and I can make things easier for you. For your kind. Change the bastards’ minds, prove them all wrong. Come on.’

Geralt considers this carefully, and pokes at the hare a bit with his stick.

The bard waits, seemingly content to let Geralt respond at his own pace.

‘What’s in it for you?’ He asks, genuinely puzzled.

‘Inspiration. Protection. An education in the wilder side of living, as it were.’

Geralt snorts.

‘Think of it as a business transaction, if you prefer. An equal exchange. In return for graciously allowing me to witness your talents at work, I will provide companionship, assistance, and an improved reputation.’

Gods help him, but the boy is persuasive.

‘I don’t need companionship. I’ve managed this long just fine without assistance…’ He sighs. ‘But I’ll concede on the last point.’

The bard grins like a fox.

‘Give me a year.’

‘A year?’ Geralt splutters. ‘A week would be too long. You escaped the King of the Elves today bard, isn’t that enough inspiration to be getting on with?’

‘I do not intend to let Destiny slip through my fingers.’ He says, smiling faintly. ‘Who knows what foes you will face next? I would not miss a one. A year, if you please.’

‘A week.’

‘My, you are an accomplished haggler aren’t you. Far more practiced than I, of course. However, and you must concede the point here my dear Witcher, I must admit, even I cannot charm an entire Continent into submission in a week, although I do appreciate the flattery. A month, to ply my trade, and prove myself a worthy travel companion, and if you are not satisfied thirty days hence, then we shall part as strangers once more.’

Geralt leans forward himself then and wags his stick in the boy’s direction.

‘You cannot get in the way.’

He plasters a very convincingly serious expression on his face, but his eyes are dancing with barely repressed glee.

‘I swear it.’

‘You have to do as I say.’

‘Within reason. But I will concede to your expertise.’

‘If I say run, you run. If I say hide, you hide. If I say, bard, fetch me three strands of white Holly and two hedgehog quills, what do you do?’

‘Speaking honestly, I’d probably say ‘Geralt, what the fuck, how am I supposed to know what white holly is?’, but I appreciate the sentiment. Complete obedience, within reason, at your disposal.’

‘Hmm.’ Geralt says.

The boy’s leg betrays his eagerness, bouncing nervously even as he watches Geralt’s face with an innocent expression.

‘Fine. You have your month.’ He says, regretting it already.

‘Yes! You won’t regret this Geralt, really you won’t.’ He jumps to his feet and steps closer, smiling.

‘Shake on it.’ He says, commandingly, and Geralt just huffs, but reaches up anyway. ‘Gloves off Geralt, for goodness sake, let’s be civil.’

He peels off his leathers, outright baffled by this bright little human, bossing him about as if Geralt couldn’t snap him in half easily as breathing. The boy takes his bare hand in a surprisingly firm grip, and shakes it sincerely, as if he were any other man, as if his word meant anything to humans, as if he genuinely doesn’t believe the tales.

This whole day has been full of marvels.

The boy grins at him again, radiating only a fresh-apple scent that is surprisingly pleasant. It bodes well in a travel companion. For a half a second, he dares to be vaguely optimistic, until the bard opens his mouth again.

‘Now that the business talk is dealt with, care to share your hare?’

He snickers at his own joke, and Geralt sighs, but divvies it up into two portions anyway. The boy throws him a bread roll in exchange, and they eat in peace and quiet on opposite sides of the little fire until he clears his throat again.

‘About the er, sleeping arrangements. Not to be indelicate Geralt, but I, er, haven’t any.’

Geralt swallows around his suddenly rather dry mouthful of hare, and blinks rather owlishly at the boy, uncertain as to what he’s asking.

‘See, I know we only met this morning, but I’m rather fond of you already. And as business partners, I feel we have already managed to jump the hurdle of strangers getting to know one another, and gone headfirst into the hitherto unexplored territory of acquaintances.’

Geralt just sits, taken aback, and mouths business partners to himself. He ignores the ‘rather fond’ part for fear of his own sanity, never mind the bard’s.

‘Without beating around the bush, as it were, after one’s newfound acquaintance saves one’s life, it becomes very difficult to believe that one’s er, virtue is imperiled by said acquaintance.’

Geralt nearly chokes.

‘What.’ He wheezes.

‘Well I just thought, it’s a rather chilly evening, and perhaps, if it wouldn’t inconvenience you awfully, if you wouldn’t mind possibly adjusting your usual nightly routine to accommodate myself?’

‘What?’

The boy sighs, gesturing grandly.

‘Geralt, to put it plainly, I am cold. I have no bedroll in my possession. I should like, in short, to share your bedroll, under the proviso that no hanky-panky take place without prior permission from both parties.’

‘Hanky-panky?’ He repeats, helplessly. The boy is pretty, and well-formed, but Geralt honestly hadn’t even thought as far ahead as hanky, let alone panky.

‘I will require another handshake.’ The boy says, meeting his gaze firmly.

‘I can sleep on the ground.’ He says quickly.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ The boy says primly. ‘The entire concept of my presence at your side is to be a help, not a hindrance. And you need to be in top shape, I’d have thought, with all those beasties to fight, eh?’

‘I can stand guard.’

‘I’m not having you loom over me all night, that hardly sounds conducive to a good night’s sleep.’

Geralt looks about the campsite wildly, searching for the last scraps of reason.

‘I..’

‘Come on Geralt, some of us have walked bloody miles today, shake on it, there’s a good chap, then we can settle in for the evening.’

He stares, bewildered, as the boy takes his hand again in his own warm little grasp and they shake once more.

Half an hour later, the fire is banked for the night, Roach has settled into sleep, and Geralt has a softly snoring musician wrapped around him firmly, legs entangled with his own.

Without a doubt, one of the strangest days of his life, even for a Witcher.

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EDIT: Chapter Two now up!

#geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #first meeting #post posada #how jaskier gets from barker to bathtime buddy #jaskier gets loquacious when he's nervous #fluff and crack

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honey-andtea1889 · 4 years

Text

Battered and Bruised

AN: Hello! This is my very first Spencer Reid blurb! I’m super excited to write this and I seriously hope you all enjoy it! My requests are open and ready for business, please don’t be afraid to ask! Xx

Summary: The BAU team gets called on a case in Omaha, Nebraska for kidnaps and murders of women around the city. When Y/N get taken, Spencer goes to the ends of his being to find her.

Warnings: Violence, swearing, death, mention of rape, shit ton of fluff

Song: Battered and Bruised by Circa Waves

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Mornings weren’t Y/N’s strong suit. Especially when it included waking up at 5:30 am because your boss calls you in on a case. She knew it was a serious case just because of the time and after the last case the team had finished, she knew she couldn’t be too upset.

Y/N loved her job at the BAU. It was pretty much her who reason for living. She absolutely loved helping people and putting away criminals that don’t deserve any more than a kick of dust. Just the feeling of saving someone’s life made the job worth it. She always put her heart fully into every case that came up, making sure that every person that was found was safe and every bastard that would cause the victims pain would get every ounce of punishment they had coming to them. Y/N couldn’t think of doing anything else.

Her team made it even better. She got along with everyone. They were all so welcoming when she first joined the FBI, Y/N felt that these people, this wonderful team, was her family.

Y/N soon made it to the BAU and went straight into the break room for some coffee. She ran into a very groggy, barely woken Derek Morgan. He smiled at her, sipping his morning brew.

“Good Morning, Princess. How was your nap?” Derek asked as he chuckled.

“About as good as it can get. Can’t believe we got called back in so quickly. Did Hotch tell you anything about today’s case?” Y/N asked.

Derek shook his head. As far as they knew, no one was told about the case. Hotch had just called everyone in saying that it was an emergency. The two were soon joined by none other than David Rossi. He smiled as he made himself a cup of coffee, sighing at the time.

“One of these days, I’m just not going to answer my phone.” Rossi grumbled.

The three of them laughed. Derek and Rossi made their way to the briefing room while Y/N fixed herself another cup of coffee. A loud groan echoed through the hall, and you knew who that belonged to. Dr. Spencer Reid came into sight as he trudged over to the coffee machine, smiling a tired smile at Y/N.

Spencer and Y/N had a weird relationship. It was evident that the two of them had feelings for one another, but neither of them acknowledged them. There were times where Y/N wished she had the courage to just walk up to Spencer and ask him out, but she could never convince herself to do it. Spencer was the same way. He thought she was so beautiful and smart. He felt so comfortable around her and just being in the same room as her was a gift in itself, he just didn't know how to ask without making a fool of himself. Everyone on the team could feel the romantic tension between the pair and it killed them. Spencer couldn’t could how many times Derek had mentioned it to him that he should ‘make a move before someone else does.’

“Whoever allowed anything to be done before 11:30 in the morning is psychotic.” Spencer grumbled, pouring coffee into a mug.

“I hear ya, but Hotch sounded pretty serious on the phone. We should probably get up there.” Y/N sighed.

The two made it into the briefing room, Penelope setting everything up for the team. Spencer took a seat next to Y/N, smiling at her as he took his first coffee sip of the day. Prentiss, JJ, and Hotch soon flew into the room as Penelope began explaining the case.

“Three women were found dead in ditches all around Omaha, Nebraska. Jenna Lender, 25, was our latest victim. She was last seen yesterday morning, getting coffee for her boss. Jenna’s boss tried calling her after noticing she was gone longer than she needed to be but got nothing.” Penelope said as she clicked through the presentation.

“How long did the unsub keep the other victims alive?” Emily asked.

“That’s the thing, all of the girls were only alive for a day. once he was finished with one, the unsub would spend a week hunting for a new woman.” Hotch says.

“He stays in the same area, he’s got a comfort zone.” Spencer said, eyeing the file in front of him.

“He obviously doesn’t have a type, the women are all different. The only thing that is connecting them is their age.” Y/N said.

“And their jobs. All of the girls worked at the same company just different departments. It looks like the building is downtown, did they know each other?” JJ asked.

“No, its a huge company. Jenna worked on the 23rd floor in Accounting, Sierra on the 12th floor in Marketing, and Marie on the 33rd as an assistant to the CEO.” Penelope said as she clicked on her tablet.

“Are we looking at the CEO of this company? Maybe he’s got something to do with it?” Derek questioned.

“No, he’s got a trustful alibi.”

“Whoever it is, we need to find him before he kills again. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch said, gathering the files to head out to the jet.

The team gathered their things and boarded the plane. Everyone was slowly dozing off in their seats while Y/N and Spencer stayed up and talked about the little things. They did this every so often. Whenever they had a long trip, the pair would sit closer to the back and just talk. They never had a set conversation, the topic was always changing. Y/N loved that.

“No way, you can’t possibly think that Stephan King outranks Edgar Allan Poe.” Spencer laughed.

Y/N shrugged and smiled at the genius to her right.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love Edgar, but something about King’s writing just hits a little on the different side.” She said as she sipped on her coffee.

Spencer studied Y/N. He took in her features, her beautiful Y/E/C eyes, her gorgeous smile, intoxicating laugh. He became so enthralled by her beauty, he didn’t realize that the plane had landed and the team were departing the aircraft. Y/N noticed his staring and blushed. Now wasn't the time to flirt though. They had a job to do.

“Alright, Prentiss and Morgan, I want you two at the first crime scene. Look for any details that were missed. Rossi, you and I will go to the second crime scene. JJ, talk to the families of the girls. We need to know if there was anything linking them. Reid and Y/N, go to the latest crime scene and gather as much evidence as possible. You both are then to go to the police station and set up. We’ll meet there in about two hours.” Hotch explained.

Everyone broke off into their respected groups. Y/N and Spencer quickly arrived to the recent crime scene, the body still laying in the position it was found.

“FBI?” A detective asked.

“Yeah, this is SSA Y/L/N and I’m Dr. Reid. Is this how the body was found?” Spencer quizzed at the detective.

The man nodded and led the two over to the body on the ground. Y/N looked at the woman to see if there was any form of self defense wounds on her. Spencer was taking note of the area in which the body was found. It was just outside of town, the woods just a few miles away from the dump sight. Spencer was about to look around until Y/N called him over.

“Take a look at this.” She said, moving the arm of the woman.

The two saw marks around her wrists, showing that the woman was tied up when she was captured. As the looked even closer, the agents could see the body had bruises all along her neck, hips, and thighs.

“This woman was raped, Spence.” Y/N said disappointedly.

Spencer sighed. This case was not going to be an easy one. The two headed back to the station to set up the search. Spencer could see that Y/N was a bit off since they left the crime scene. Morgan and Prentiss came into the room, they were almost out of breath as the entered.

“Marie Thomas was raped.” Prentiss explained.

“So was Jenna.” Y/N stated, pinning up a photo of her lifeless body.

“So he stalks them for a week, kidnaps them, rapes them, then dumps their dead bodies in ditches.” Derek said as he flopped onto a chair.

“None of the girls had enemies at work, they all got along with their coworkers and mostly kept to themselves.” JJ said as she walked in.

“So what sick bastard is taking these women?” Emily questioned.

Hotch and Rossi soon joined the rest of the team, both looking more on edge than everyone else.

“Guys? Are you okay?” Y/N asked.

“Something isn’t sitting right.” Rossi sighed.

Hotch walked over to the board as Spencer explained how he wanted the people of Omaha to see that he means business. Y/N became uncomfortable with the topic and decided to stand outside to get some fresh air, clearing her mind from all of the horrifying information she had taken in. Derek came to check up on her almost immediately after she left.

“You okay mamas?” He asked.

Y/N chuckled at the nickname.

“Honestly? No. These poor women were just living their lives and then this happens to them.” She explains, her heart sinking at the thought.

“Look, Y/N, I know this is hard, but we have to keep our heads up. We’ll catch this sick son of a bitch, no matter the cost.” He said.

“Derek, we don't have a lead. We can’t even connect the girls to each other besides the fact that they’re all the same age and work in the same building. To me, it almost seems like a revenge story.”

Y/N’s head picks up after she said that. What if it was a revenge plot? What if the unsub was hurt by an ex or embarrassed by a coworker of the opposite sex and it just trying to get payback?

Derek looked at Y/N curiously. She bolted back into the station and ran into the conference room where the rest of the team was.

“This is a revenge spree.” Y/N said.

The team looked at each other, confusion taking over the room. Y/N walked over to the board and began explaining her theory.

“All three women worked at prestigious jobs, all three women were young, they were successful. Maybe this guy was ridiculed by someone like them, a girlfriend, coworker, boss, whatever. He is most likely killing them because he’s intimidated by them.” She said.

“That explains the connection. But what about the geographical profile? What the significance of the ditches around the city?” Rossi asked.

“He obviously wants them seen but not immediately. He’s almost trying put on a show for people, saying that he’s superior.” Spencer adds, looking over the photos.

“It adds up but what about the rapes? He just does it because he can?” JJ asks.

“No, he’s asserting dominance to these women. Showing them that he’s in charge.” Hotch said.

“Gather all your officers up Detective. We have a profile.”

About 15 minutes later, Omaha Police Officers and Detectives were surrounding the FBI agents as they gave the profile.

“The man we’re looking for is in his late 20′s-early 30′s. He socially awkward and intimidated by women of higher class.” Hotch starts.

“He won’t approach anyone first. He would be someone that keeps to himself at work unless his boss came up to him.” Emily said as she looks around the room.

“Over the years he’s been humiliated by women of authority, this could be a boss, higher up coworker, a girlfriend even. He has been taking this for years and has had enough.” Y/N said.

“He’s definitely the odd one out, he doesn’t look like he could do something as gruesome as this. Think of like a nerdy kid in high school.” Rossi explained.

“He’s trying to assert his dominance. He’s been submissive almost his whole life, he’s trying to show that he’s the one whose in charge by not only kidnapping, but raping the victims before he kills them.” Derek said as he sat in front of the group.

“He’s on the hunt right now. He could be anywhere around the city so be on the look out.” Spencer said.

“We’ve already made sure that everyone never leaves a location alone and that a city wide curfew has been set.” JJ says, crossing her arms.

“This man is very dangerous, stay alert and stay safe.” Hotch said, ending the briefing.

Y/N exhaled and decided to take a breather. She walked outside and took a deep breath. The case was starting to get to her. It could also be the lack of sleep she had.

Y/N turned to go back inside, until she felt a sharp pain coursing on her head and the world went black.

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

After a few hours, Spencer had noticed Y/N missing and started looking for her. He looked around the station and even went downtown to see if she was at some coffee shop. He called her phone, only to be answered by her voicemail. Somethings wrong Spencer thought. He quickly went back to the station, panic taking over his mind.

“Hey, Y/N isn't answer her phone and I can’t find her anywhere.” Spencer said frantically as he entered into the conference room.

The team looked around at each other, trying to figure out where she could’ve gone. It was normal for Y/N to wonder off during a case but not for longer than a half hour. The team knew that sometimes, some cases can be a little much for her so she steps away to take a minute to gather herself. Spencer would always go to make sure that she was okay, comforting her whenever she became overwhelmed with any case they were working on.

“Oh god..what if..” Emily started.

“Our unsub has her.” Hotch said grabbing her phone and dialing Penelope’s phone number.

“Hello my sweet, beautiful, darlings. How might I be of assistance.” Penelope sang through the small phone.

“Garcia, Y/N has been taken. We need you to run a search on her phone to see where she could possibly be.” Rossi said.

“Oh my god, no.” She said, sadness and worry taking over her demeanor.

“It’s gonna be okay baby girl. We’re gonna find her, right now we need you to get that search started.” Derek cooed.

Spencer was standing in the back, watching everything unfold.

How could he let this happen? Usually he would check up on her but today, he was so wrapped up in the case that he didn’t even bother to make sure she was okay. He wanted to make sure that you weren’t over stressed, especially with cases like this one. This was all his fault. He should’ve gone with her. His guilt began to eat at him, anxiety gnawing at him like a dog on a bone.

“Spence? You okay?” Emily asked.

“This is all my fault..” He whispered.

“Spencer, you couldn’t have done anything to stop this. We’re dealing with a violently aggressive man-”

“I check on her when cases become too much. I make sure that she’s okay. I’m always there for her and this time, I wasn’t. I wasn’t able to protect her from this maniac out there. And because of that, I’m losing the love of my life...again.” Spencer snaps.

Emily looks at the sad Doctor with empathy. She rubs his back for just a moment and returns to the rest of the team, leaving Spencer on his own.

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

Y/N groaned as she picked her head up, the weight being ridiculously heavy. She took in her surroundings, seeing only a dark room with a single light bulb above her. She tried to move but her hands and feet were tied together on a chair. Well this wasn’t how I wanted to spend my day, she thought. Y/N soon heard a loud slam come from down the hall. Footsteps were soon followed, dragging along the concrete floor.

“Well. Aren’t you a pretty one.” A man with a deep voice seethed, slowly making his way over to the light.

Y/N could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest. To say she was terrified was a huge understatement.

“What do you want from me? I wasn’t the one who hurt you.” Y/N said, trying to sound as brave as she could.

“No, but you’re like her.” The man yelled as he slapped her cheek.

“What do you gain from this? Huh? Some sick form of pleasure?” Y/N screamed as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

The unsub punched her in her face. Y/N could feel a bruise forming under her eye as she panted. Y/N was a strong girl, and she wasn’t going to give up that easily but she definitely couldn’t hold on forever.

She hoped the team would save her soon.

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

“Okay so by the looks of it, her phone was up and active until she got closer to the forest. That’s where the trail runs cold.” Garcia says, clicking away on her many computers.

“Detective, is there any abandoned houses or barns out that way?” Hotch asked.

“There’s actually an old barn just passed town. It’s deep in the woods though. Kinda hard to see at night.” The Detective said.

“Well we can’t wait until morning, she’ll be dead by then, so if you could tell us what the coordinates are, that’ d be great.” Spencer hissed.

“Reid.” Hotch said sternly.

“No Hotch, if we wait any longer Y/N will be dead. She’s part of the time and a huge part of my life. I can’t just wait around until it’s convenient for everyone!” Spencer yelled.

The team looked at Spencer in surprise. Hotch signaling to Derek to get Spencer to calm down before he’s removed from the case.

“Kid, I know you care about this girl, but you need to keep your cool.” Derek said, pulling Spencer to the other side of the room.

“I’m sorry, Morgan. I just want her to be alive.” Spencer said, his voice wavering.

“I know. We’ll get your girl back.” Derek promised.

Spencer nodded and hugged his friend.

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

“Only a few hours left gorgeous, better get some rest before I destroy you.” The man said.

Y/N was beaten beyond belief. She felt as though she’d been to hell and couldn’t recover. Her vision was hazy, she could tell she had a huge concussion. Her lip was bleeding and by the throbbing of her eye, she knew there was going to be some bruising. Her body ached from being beaten in a chair. She could barely keep her eyes open.

Her thoughts went to Spencer. She thought about ever seeing him again, about ever being able to tell him that she loved him. She wanted to finally express her feelings to him, but probably won’t ever get the chance now. Her swollen eyes began to fill with tears as her heart breaks.

It’s not long until the man come back and beats her again. Constantly throwing fists at her face.

“How does it feel to be less than nothing, you bitch.” He whispered.

“Go to hell.” Y/N seethed.

With that, Y/N spit some of the blood from her lip at the unsub. He yelled and slapped her across the face. As he was going in for a punch, Y/N hear footsteps outside, Her heart beat picked up, knowing her team finally came to her rescue.

“You think you’re all big and bad because you kill and rape women? hah, I’ve seen bugs better than you.” Y/N spat.

It was that moment where a click of a gun rang throughout the barn and Hotch’s voice rang through Y/N’s ears.

“Put your hands where I can see them.” He said sternly.

The unsub grabbed a knife and pulled it to Y/N’s throat.

“If I die, she dies with me.” He said.

Spencer locked his gun and pointed to the unsub. He could see the terror and shame in Y/N’s eyes as his fingers landed on the trigger. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to keep her safe, and after this, he was going to make sure you weren’t in harms way.

“Sir, just let the girl go.” Hotch tried reasoning.

“Why? So she could go tell scrawny over there to work harder? So she could torment him just like I was?”

The unsub looked over to Spencer.

“You know she screams your name, right?” he said.

“She screamed it while I was beating her to a pulp. Guess you could say she-”

A gunshot was fired. The man’s body flopped to the floor as Y/N hyperventilated. Spencer ran over to her, untying ever blasted knot that was harming her precious skin. Once she was released, Y/N flopped down on top of Spencer, holding him as tightly as she could.

“I thought I was never going to see you again.” he whispered.

“I was so scared Spence. I thought he was going to-”

Spencer cut Y/N off.

“I wouldn’t let anything like that happen to you, Y/N. I care about you way too much to let someone manhandle you like that.” Spencer said lovingly.

Y/N pulled away from him and crashed her lips onto his.

The kiss was delicate, yet full of passion. The pair kissed for just a few moments before they pulled away.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while, just couldn’t find the right time.” Y/N said, softly smiling at the cheesing Doctor.

“Well I’m glad you finally did. Come on, let’s get you home.” Spencer smiled.

Both agents stood up from the ground and made their way outside of the barn. Y/N was looked at for her injuries and soon after, the team made their way back home.

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

“Don’t worry about the reports just yet, guys. Go home and get some rest.” Hotch said as they entered the BAU. Everyone cheered as they all made their ways to their designated cars.

“Hey, Spence?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah?”

“Can I please stay with you? I don’t know if I could stay there by myself tonight.” Y/N blushed.

Spencer smiled and pulled Y/N into his chest. Y/N snuggled in tightly, feeling the warm embrace of the Doctor who saved her.

“Of course you can stay, do you want to run back to your place and get some clothes?” Spencer asked.

Y/N nodded as they headed to his car. The drive back to Y/N’s apartment was silent, but a comfortable silent. The two held each other’s hand tightly, afraid of letting the other person go. They pulled into the parking lot and made their way upstairs. Y/N unlocked her apartment and quickly slid inside, allowing Spencer access to her home. Y/N quickly ran back to her room, gathering some clothes and her tooth brush so she could stay over at Spencer’s.

As she exited her room, Spencer was sat on her kitchen counter, looking through a small cookbook her mother had given her.

“These snickerdoodles sound really good, do you mind if we bring this and make cookies tomorrow?” Spencer asked.

“Sure.”

Spencer smiled and took Y/N’s hand, leading her back to the car. The drive to Spencer’s apartment wasn't too far from hers. The two quickly made it up the stairs and into the apartment.

Spencer’s place was cozy. With the many books on the book shelf, it made Y/N’s heart fill with joy. A yawn passed Y/N’s lips.

“You wanna go to sleep, darling?” Spencer asked, placing a hand on her back.

Y/N nodded. Spencer lead her to his room. They both began to get ready for bed when Y/N spoke up.

“Can I wear one of your shirts to sleep?”

“Of course, here.” Spencer said, handing Y/N a black crewneck sweater.

Y/N threw it on and climbed into bed. Spencer follow shortly after, snuggling close to Y/N as possible. She rested her head on his chest and sighed. Spencer kissed her head sweetly whispering:

“I love you.”

617 notes · View notes

atomicblasphemy · 3 years

Text

Blight Industries Board Meeting

I have some thoughts about that EE episode. Being myself I just couldn’t put them out in a sensible fashion, so I put on some crust in my headphones, amped everyone’s cynicism, and here’s the result.

�� O: Good evening everyone and welcome to the Blight Industries board meeting of number...

Ed and Em shoot glances at each other as confused about how they ended up there as when it happened for the first time.

Al looks longingly at his workshop door.

Amity glares.

Am: Mom, can we try to have dinner like a normal family which, according to Merriam-Webster at least, we technically are? For once at least?

O: That can wait, Mittens. Anyway, I called you all here to announce I shall be making some changes to our company. Namely, I shall change the job titles of the three of you. I’m still CEO, Alador still development, research and, well, the assembly line I suppose. As for you, Emira, Edric, you’re now in charge of security. I don’t want to hear about company secrets leaking out, okay? Mittens, you’re our new marketing department.

Am: Marketing?

Em: Seriously, mom?

Od: Dearests, this is a meeting please use our appropriate titles.

Ed: No no no no. They have a point. Okay, let me see if I understand your thought process. So, you’re the head of a company, right?

Od: I don’t like your tone, Edric. But okay, I’ll humor you. Yes I am, go on.

Ed: And said company essentially sells only guns.

Od: Mhmm, what’s your point?

Ed: And you think that the best way to convey that is by using your local annoyed teenage lesbian that half the time looks like she would be rather doing literally anything else? Is that a correct assessment, ma’am?

Od: Oh, and I suppose you have a better idea?

Em: Yeah, we do. ANYONE ELSE. We *frantically and repeatedly points her finger from herself to Edric* could do this, I mean we tried to leak our sister’s journal just a few weeks ago so we clearly know nothing about keeping secrets. You could do it. I mean, no offense, but putting up a show seems to be your only useful skill because if this your idea of how to run a company, we... aaaaand now I’m suddenly starting to realize where we get our decision making incompetence from. Anyway. This guy *points at Alador* could do it if you just made sure to remind him that that’s what’s funding his little research. Heck, you could hire Luz. She’s pretty charismatic and just took a shot at the Emperor himself. I’m sure having someone like that vouching for our products would do wonders for our business. See? That’s how you make a half-decent marketing strategy. Besides, I hear Luz could use the money and I’m sure Mittens would be happy to have her working here.

Am: Yup, normally I’d have other reasons but honestly I’d just be happy someone else is doing this particular job.

Al: *woop there goes gravity* Why? I told you this wasn’t the best idea. Besides, we agreed, twice at least, that I would take care of the abominations and you’d be in charge of everything else *leans in closer to whisper conspiratorially to Odalia* I don’t like dealing with them *points at their very loving children*.

Ed, Em, and Am: HEY!

Al: *sighs* Listen to your boss, children.

The children huddle closer, they are the conspiratorial ones now.

Am: We’re gonna end up broke and starving, aren’t we?

Em: Yeah, isn’t it weird though? I mean, you’d think they’d have found someone better to... sponsor by now. Apparently that’s not the case. Moreover, why do they, our parents I mean, keeping putting so many resources into product development then? And it’s not even like we’re branching out into new markets, making some groundbreaking products. Nope, just shinier versions of the old stuff.

Am: Hum... Can either of you teach me how to write a resume?

Ed: I... uh... was going to ask you the same thing.

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

Later.

Em: Okay, let’s recap the recent events, shall we?

Odalia and Alador were sat side by side in flimsy wooden chair at the factory’s storage area. Their children loomed over them with stern faces.

Am: First off, you decided to entirely restructure the company, you know, the one with our name in it. And you did so by making all possible wrong choices. Especially putting me as the face and head of marketing.

Ed: Then, secondly, when you realized that wasn’t working due to Mittens, justifiably I might add, wanting to do pretty much anything else with her time. So you two in a strike of parenting brilliance decide that the best way to deal with all of that was not to, oh I don’t know, hire some specialist or anything like that for the position and let her, and us, be teenagers like any normal parent would do. No, instead you think: “Hey, I’ll double down and alienate the one of my children giving me a hard time from the only people she seems to like.”

Al: In our defense...

Em: AND THEN, when one of said people decide to actually do something about, and in a very diplomatic fashion given the circumstances, mind you, you go ahead and try to commit murder in front of a large audience of potential witnesses. Granted, not a particularly morally upstanding audience given the type of products they were trying to buy, but still. Do you have any idea how many people would want a piece of you if you actually hurt the human? You have three of them standing in front of you right now.

Od: Well, Emira dearest, you can’t argue with the numbers. Tonight’s sale was an astounding success.

Am: And she still has her poise despite all the failures... Look, the three of us, we’ve been talking. We somehow are also part of the board, right? Moreover, we are, despite all evidence on the contrary, still employs of this company. So we put things through a vote.

Ed: First off, we’re unionizing. And your first demand is better working conditions...

Od: I’m not putting apple blood fountains in the factory floors. That’s off the table. I already told this Edric. The abominations take a surprising liking to the stuff.

Em: We can discuss the specifics later. We have other topics at hand.

Al: Okay, like what?

Em: You two are out. Actually just you mom. We still need dad for development of new products and stuff.

Od: WHAT? You can’t do this.

Am: Let me rephrase what Emira said: you’re not CEO anymore. She is.

Al and Od: EMIRA?

Ed: Yes, Emira. I’ll be in charge of supply and distribution as well as any other duties dad still had besides research and develop. Mom, you’re the new Mittens. I mean, marketing. You’re in charge of marketing now. Just marketing and literally nothing else. I’m sure we won’t regret giving you this much responsibility. And, by the way. One mistake and we’re hiring Luz for the job. AND we’re giving her enough shares to sit at the board.

Od: *starts chuckling while reaching for a small book in her vest* I can’t say I’m not angry at the three of you, but it is indeed nice to see you trying to take a more active role in the company. But there’s a big flaw to your little coup. You see, according to article 15 of the Blight Industries statute, Alador’s vote, as well as mine...

Al: I’m voting with them, Odalia.

Everyone else turns to look at him, wide eyed.

Al: Look, I’m not ecstatic about this or anything. But at the end of day if Edric is taking half the load off my shoulders then I’ll have the more time in my workshop. And away from them. Odalia, don’t look at me like that, I told you the other day I was wanting us to develop magic powered air fryers. Now I’ll have the time for that. We can tap onto more markets this way, more money.

Od: ... You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.

Al: *sighs* How about Mittens, what will she do now?

Am: Librarian. That’ll be my new job title.

Al: We have no use for a librarian, Amity. You know that, don’t you?

Am: I know. I’m not working here anymore. Gary had been telling me for some time about this internship opening. I start Monday. But don’t go thinking I’ll leave the board. I’m keeping my shares and besides, Ed and Em agreed to keep me as an adviser.

Od: Oh look at our daughter, Alador. Going all out on that daily grind, making the minimum wage. Are you sure you can handle it, Mittens my dear?

Am: Well, you paid me in passive aggressive comments and threats so far. I consider minimum wage a raise if anything.

Od: Whatever you say... In any case. I suppose I’ll now be some sort of glorified secretary then.

Em: What do you mean, mom?

Od: Oh, right. You weren’t there at the time. We struck a big contract, big enough so we won’t need to worry about marketing for the foreseeable future.

Em: What? HOW?

Al: That uhh... That kid, what’s his name again? The new head of the Emperor’s coven. He came in after the sales ended, said we should go around building Frankenstein mercenaries, and that the Emperor would be buying all of our Thanos thingies aaand on top of that the state would fund all our future research.

Ed and Em: Oh... Oh... Ohh Titan... Didn’t he get ahold of Eda’s portal? Mittens, we have to tell Luz.

Am: *chuckles* Yeah, good luck with that, Emperor.

Ed: I... Are you okay? Shouldn’t you be worried?

Am: Eh... I mean... First things first. Yeah, I know he’s building an army to invade the human realm and yeah, I know we’ll be supplying the weaponry and that I should probably give Luz a heads up. But, you know. That’s pretty stupid of him when you think about it.

Ed: What?

Am: I mean, think about it. He is getting a supplier that he knows, for a fact, has a positive connection to his enemies. Meaning it would be in our interest - especially mine, you know, the other Blight with Abomination know how and the one closest to the one human living in the Boiling Isles, as proven today - to put some back doors in all the tech we’ll be selling them. Moreover... Sure humans don’t have magic but they make up for it in other ways. Luz was telling me about her realm the other day and... Well... Let me put it this way: we are not humans, meaning we are not covered by the Geneva convention. Best case scenario once Bellos opens the portal we, not them, become a colony. And humans don’t make a habit of treating their colonies with any decency. So, you know... Anyway. Worst case scenario, they’ll just start pumping napalm, anthrax, mustard gas, and all sorts of fun stuff chemical and biological weapons through the portal. Meaning we’ll die. Painfully. Heck, they can even make good on their anti-nuclear proliferation treaties and just throw it all here and make it go boom. Trust me, that alone will be enough to finish sinking the Titan.

All the other four Blights look at her wide eyed.

Am: Eh... But you know, I’ll go and tell Luz and Eda. Fir witchkind’s sake or whatever. So... See you guys later.

Od: *shaking the shock away from her head* Oh... Quite a hurry to go and see Luz, aren’t we Mittens? *a sly smile forming* I’m sorry... I meant YOUR Luz.

Ed and Em: Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Damn, missed the joke.

Al just nods in agreement.

Am: What are you people talking about?

Od: Oh, it’s nothing really Mittens, my dear child. It’s just that, you seem to be rather attached to her, aren’t you? In a very weird way, but still.

Am: Weird? Weird how? You’re talking non-sense.

Ed: No, Mittens, the lady has a point. I don’t get your thought process tonight either.

Am: I have no idea what...

Ed: No, seriously. I mean, no need to beat around the bush here: you have a gargantuan crush on her. That’s plenty obvious to everyone here.

Am: *blushing* No comments.

Ed: Whatever, I’ll take that to mean you do. So, you see your crush up on the stage. She’s fighting dad’s Thanos thingy. Which, might I add, was being controlled by him. Seriously, what the hell, dude? Is this a way to meet your potential daughter-in-law? Anyway. She’s potentially in mortal danger. And your first thought is: I’m gonna woo her.

Am: That’s... not what I thought...

Em: Yeah, Mittens. Sure. That’s why the first you did was to turn around and start climbing the ladders.

Am: I... They were fighting up there, I wanted to get to close quarters.

Em: Nope. Not buying it.

Ed: We were watching it all unfold Mittens, you started climbing the ladders before, long before, they were up there.

Am: But... the crowd.

Ed: Dispersed pretty quickly, and knowing Abomination magic, as you do, you definitely knew Thanos would have that effect.

Am: I... But... I wanted to fight close quarters... and I wanted... the higher ground.

Em: So... You are up in the pipes, and by then Luz and Thanos are already back in ground level. So you position yourself in the spot with the best lighting and a means for you to quickly climb down - I swear, I’m certain I saw you double checking to make sure you were positioned just right. Then you take your sweet time pulling your hood back up. And finally, then and only then, you go to Luz’s rescue by using your magic. And you do that before you climb down, meaning your magic has enough range, as we’ve all always known, to be effective without the close quarters or the higher.

Ed: Come on, Mittens. Just admit it. You wanted to do a super-hero landing in front of your crush. Come on...

Am: I... Do you think it worked?

Everyone, expect for Amity, looks at Alador.

Al: I dunno, why are you asking me?

Ed: Because somehow out of all of us you’re the one most likely to pick up that sort of stuff.

Al: Right, and I’m also the one least likely to care.

Am: I’M YOUR DAUGHTER.

Em: *taking a deep breath* Okay, lets pause for a second here. Ed, Mittens. Pat yourselves on the back. Come on, do it. Look, I’ll do it too. *begins patting her own back in tandem with her siblings’ more tentative display*

Am: Em... Why are we doing this?

Em: For not succumbing to drugs and alcohol (shrewd ad campaigns on Twitter aside). *Edric and Amity begin patting their backs more enthusiastically, Emira turns to their parents* You know, you two. You should pat yourselves on the back as well. I mean, sure, we’ll need years of therapy to undo all the damage the emotional neglect the both of you show us has caused so far, but no one can say we don’t get plenty of variety.

Al: Are you done being passive aggressive, Emira?

Em: What can I say? I’ve learned from the best. *looks at Odalia, who just rolls her eyes*

Al: *sighing* As for your previous question. The human seemed to be blushing as well. So my best guess is that Amity’s little... spectacle... did work.

Od: See? And you dare say it was a bad idea to put her on marketing.

Am: That’s because I had a reason to care when I was doing all that.

Od: Ohh right, then what do you suggest I had done to make you care about our, emphasis on our, business.

Am, Ed and Em in unison: Pay us for our labor.

Am: I mean, seriously. You guys built a whole business model around Abominations: a.k.a. free labor. Sure you could afford to pay us, a.k.a. self aware creatures that are not (and I’ve checked this) Abominations, something.

Ed: So... again to recap the day. Mom and dad lost their company, Bellos shot himself square in the foot. Hell, even this new coven head pretty much proved his lack of intelligence gathering competence by doing business with us. Today was a failure on every front. Even Luz when you think about it.

Em: Luz?

Ed: Yeah... She trusted... her *points at Odalia*.

Em: Ohh...

Od: HEY! I’m still your mother.

Em: Nominally, maybe. Jury still out on that one. Anyway, that reminds me. I want all our financial books for the past five years i my desk, formerly yours, in two days.

Am: I think my day was pretty successful. I have reason to believe my crush likes me back and I’ll know what a healthy professional and financial life looks like for the first in these 14 groolling and long years of existence. So things are looking up for me. Anyway... Are we done here?

Am: I guess so, why?

Am: Cool. Gonna head out.

Em: Oh, going to let your Luz know of the Emperor’s plan and bask in her presence.

Am: Emira, I swear in the Titan’s name that if you ever address her like that in front of her they will never find your body. But yes, that’s the gist of it.

Em: Fine. Actually, wait up. Lilith is living there now isn’t she? I wanted to talk to her.

Am: Lilith as in Lilith Clawthorne? Eda’s sister? Former head of the Emperor’s Coven? My former mentor? That Lilith?

Em: Yup.

Am: Why, pray tell, do you want to talk to her?

Em: Wanted to hire her. We need a new accountant.

Am: And you thought of her because...?

Em: Lack of options?

Am: I... You know what, fair enough.

Ed: Hold up. I’m coming with. I don’t like being around them *points at Odalia and Alador*.

Am: Sure.

They leaving. Only Odalia and Alador are left in the room.

Al: Wow.

Od: I know.

Al: Just... wow...

Od: I know.

Al: I don’t know how to process any of this. It happened all so fast.

Od: I know.

Al: Like... no sense of pacing at all.

Od: I know, Alador. Titan do I know.

Al: Almost as if everyone’s words were being written by an extra-dimentional entity that reaaally wanted to rant but didn’t want to put out their opinions in a more reasonable manner, and wasn’t even remotely concerned with making it sound like a normal conversation.

Od: I know.

Al: Anyway. We failed as people, didn’t we?

Od: *sighing* I know.

#THE OWL HOUSE #Edric Blight #Luz Noceda #amity blight #odalia blight #emira blight #Alador Blight

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luxekook · 4 years

Text

love bites | ksj

*written for the FWL luv library project*

⇥ pairing: kim seokjin x reader

⇥ genre: non-idol au, co-workers to lovers, smut, fluff

⇥ summary: you’re stuck working the evening shift on valentine’s day at bangtan bistro. as the city’s most expensive and exclusive restaurant, the bistro draws in couples both old and new with partners looking to propose or to impress. your tolerance for PDA and cringey lovebirds has never been lower. throw a flirty chef into the mix and you’re in for a bumpy ride that might just conclude with a happy ending.

⇥ word count: 5.4k

⇥ warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, bad puns from jin, numerous health-code violations (from fraternizing all up in that kitchen), oral (m + f receiving), protected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it, folks), workplace romance, threats of violence from yoongi

⇥ beta'd by the amazing @shadowsremedy (thank you, heath! could not have done this without you, your feedback, and your general support!)

“Will you marry me?”

I screech to a halt, completely astounded at the goddamned audacity of the man kneeling before me. Did he really just ask that? At a time like this?

I shift my weight from one foot to the other as I try not to outwardly show my disgust over the scene unfolding before my very eyes.

“Oh my god, Chad!” The date of this Chad finally launches herself from her seat and into his arms, “Yes!”

The restaurant breaks into applause. My forehead breaks into a sweat.

My left arm feels like it might snap at any moment under the weight of the tray of food that I’m meant to be serving this goddamn theatrical couple. The thought of quitting crosses my mind for the umpteenth time that evening.

A camera flash temporarily stuns me, and I feel a tiny twinge of satisfaction. My looming presence in that commemorative photo will hopefully be a reminder to let servers do their damn job before launching into a whole ordeal.

God, I must have been off my fucking rocker when I agreed to work the Valentine’s Day dinner shift. At least the tip money would be worth it.

Gritting my teeth, I flash my best fake smile and offer words of congratulations to the sniffling couple who finally reclaimed their seats.

“Enjoy your meal,” my mouth says with a smile.

“I wish I could sear you like that filet mignon you ordered, Chad,” my glare says with promise.

Thirty seconds later, I’m in full whisper-rant mode at the corner server station. My friend and fellow server Tabby half-listens as she punches in an order at the kiosk.

“And then this Chad in his fucking khaki suit flails to the ground to pop the question like he didn’t see me walking towards them with all seven entrees they ordered. So then I’m stuck hovering over their table with a giant-ass tray of food while they cry and hug and kiss until, finally, finally, they park it back in their seats so I can serve them.”

I groan, hitting my head against the wall, “What did I do in a past life to deserve this?”

“Kill someone, probably,” a voice pipes up from behind the station’s kitchen window, “Oh wait, you would do that in this life, too.”

Kim Seokjin, head chef of Bangtan Bistro and my partial employer, is leaning over the window’s counter, eyes full of mischief as he watches me.

“Oh, what’s this? Are you volunteering to be my very first victim?” I mirror his position leaning over the window’s counter and give him my best side-eye, “I’ll send you my application for victims on Google Docs.”

“Sounds kinky,” Seokjin grins, “Count me in. My Gmail username is Hugh Chefner. No capitals or spaces.”

“I despise you,” I say biting back a smile.

“You lo-o-ove me!” He sings, heading back into the depths of the hectic kitchen.

And, unfortunately, he’s right. Damn Kim Seokjin and his insane level of gorgeousness, charisma, and dramatics.

Against my better judgment, Seokjin has shimmied his chaotic self right into my well-guarded heart. Despite all of the prickliness my typical demeanor displays, I can’t help but melt under the warm gaze of such a handsome man.

Seokjin is the first person that has ever been able to pique my interest lately and keep it. Yes, it might have something to do with his extreme attractiveness; but, it more-so has everything to do with his genuine kindness and weird sense of humor.

Shit, I’ve gone soft. If we’re arguing Nature vs. Nurture here, this is totally Nurture’s fault.

Bangtan Bistro is co-owned by seven men - each as fine as the next. Being surrounded by good-looking and kind-hearted men day in and day out will definitely fuck with your brain, your body, and eventually even your fucking heart.

Kim Namjoon, a tall, dimpled sweetheart of a man, acts as general manager. Namjoon typically resides in the back office of the restaurant running numbers and going over other business ventures. He used to frequent the front of the restaurant to check on customers, but Jimin has since banned him from that activity after the infamous Spaghetti Incident of 2019.

Park Jimin, as the overseer of staff and servers, commands the restaurant floor with a crinkly-eyed smile and a ferocious temper. Fortunately for his direct subordinates (READ: me), his temper is most likely to be focused on rude customers and his messy business partners. Jimin honestly is the ideal boss because he has our backs and will never hesitate to help anyone out.

Late one Saturday evening, a man refused to leave the restaurant after being cut off from his bar tab. Jimin full-on squared up with him in defense of the poor server who had to break the news to the drunk patron. Luckily, the Bistro’s head of security, Jeon Jungkook, took over before Jimin actually popped off.

Jungkook, as the youngest partner, is shockingly tall and muscular. He definitely provides the intimidation needed for those types of escalating incidents. Despite his tough exterior, Jungkook is a complete softie.

I once caught Jungkook in the kitchen after close attempting to make cookies for a girl he had a crush on. I walked in to see Jungkook standing over a tray of the unidentifiable charred monstrosities and pouting in the most ridiculous way. Needless to say, I helped him bake a new batch with the oven not turned up to 500 degrees so that “they would cook faster”.

Min Yoongi had found the pair of us bickering and had just rolled his eyes and scooped a mouthful of raw cookie dough. As the head bartender, Yoongi is the absolute best at mixing drinks and the absolute worst at customer service. I swear the man gets far too much pleasure from getting people thrown out. He’s also notorious for watering down the drinks of customers he doesn’t like. He’s petty like that. I live for it.

Once, Jung Hoseok tried to take a picture of Yoongi for the restaurant’s website, and Yoongi threatened to shove a sharpened cocktail umbrella through Hoseok’s eye. I had never seen the Bistro’s head of marketing and resident sunshine flee so fast. Hoseok later ended up using an old picture of Yoongi in retaliation; rumor has it Yoongi is still plotting his revenge to this day.

Kim Taehyung often grumbles about how he’s going to be put out of a job since the restaurant naturally provides daily entertainment. As the head of entertainment and events, Taehyung helps to secure live music and special guests. He’s also the most handsome man I have ever seen - with the exception of one Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin, as head chef, is responsible for planning the seasonal menus, overseeing the kitchen staff, and preparing the more challenging dishes. He’s even taken it upon himself to be the resident comedian, which the other six partners vehemently and openly detest. Still, that backlash has not stopped him from naming each evening special with puns. His last Seokjin Special was called “Chicken Pot Bye Felicia”. It had resulted in Yoongi banning Seokjin from the restaurant for a full week. He still hasn’t dared to make another pun, but I can tell it will only be a matter of time.

Basically, Seokjin is an entirely goofy and beautiful mess of a human. Yet, I can’t stop myself from falling deeper and deeper into the trap that is loving someone outside of your league.

When I first arrived at the Bistro for my inaugural shift, I was greeted enthusiastically by Jimin, who I’d met previously in my interview. Jimin had introduced me to each of his partners - each as handsome as the last. Honestly, my eyes and nerves had been exhausted after meeting almost all of them. Then Jimin had ushered me into the kitchen.

“Hey, Jin-hyung!” Jimin had yelled over the cacophony of sizzling pans and murmured conversation. I had watched in awe as the hottest man I’ve ever seen entered my line of vision and stopped before me. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had a face that could inspire priceless works of art with full pink lips, high cheekbones, and devilish dark eyes.

“You summoned me, Jiminie?” The man had laughed in a slightly squeaky manner before he noticed my presence, “Ah, who might this be?”

I had cleared my throat in hopes that my voice wouldn’t crack under the sheer weight of this man’s attractiveness, “Hi, I’m (y/n). I’m starting today as a server.” and thrust my hand out with a shy smile.

He had blinked. Slowly, a smirk eased onto his face as he grabbed my hand. Instead of shaking it, he had brought it to his lips. “A pleasure. I’m Seokjin,” he had murmured, lips brushing against my knuckles. My cheeks had felt like they were on fire as Jimin screeched at Seokjin for harassing me.

“It’s her first day, Jin! Lay off the theatrics,” Jimin had turned to me, “Sorry about him, (y/n). He’s a desperate flirt.”

“Desperate? Me?” Seokjin gasped, “Worldwide Handsome does not do desperate.”

“Did you just refer to yourself as ‘Worldwide Handsome’?” I had gaped at his open arrogance.

Seokjin proudly had puffed up his chest, “Yes. What else could I possibly be called?”

“Well, definitely not Worldwide Humble,” My mouth had said before my brain caught up.

The room had seemed to pause before Jimin erupted in peals of laughter as Seokjin spluttered, “Yah, Jiminie, you can’t let her talk to me like that!”

Still laughing, Jimin had choked out, “(y/n), you officially have a job here until you die.”

Ever since that first encounter, Seokjin and I have established a working relationship based on banter or what Tabby refers to as ‘flirting’. I refuse to believe that ridiculous notion.

Tabby finally finishes entering her order into the kiosk and turns to me, “So, any hot plans for tonight?” Her eyebrows wiggle up and down suggestively.

“Does solo Netflix and chill count as hot plans?” I deadpan as I peer around the server station divider to covertly check on my tables. I lock eyes on Chad and his fiancé, who already seem to be arguing, and I make an executive decision to not go check how their meal is going.

“No!” Tabby’s whisper-yell commands my attention, “That definitely does not count, (y/n). Why didn’t you find someone on Tinder? I even made you that bomb-ass profile.”

I pointedly look everywhere but at her.

“You deleted the app, didn’t you,” she glares at me, arms folded, “I slaved over that profile! There were only so many tasteful cleavage shots of my best friend that I could stomach in one sitting!”

“What the fuck, Tabby! Since when do I have any—”

“Tasteful cleavage shots?” Seokjin’s elated voice practically shouts from the kitchen, “Let me at ‘em.”

His hands launch towards us through the kitchen window and make grabbing motions.

“Seokjin,” I tsk mockingly, “Are you trying to grab my tits again?”

“Again?” Tabby cries, whirling on Seokjin, who looks at us in horror.

“I wasn’t! I swear! I just wanted to see the pictures! I didn’t want to grab your boobs…” He trails off, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like ‘not any more than usual, anyway’.

“Seokjin-hyung! (y/n)!” Jimin blazes into the service station, “I’ve had it up to here with your bickering. You’re both on closing duties tonight - alone.”

“What?” I exclaim as Tabby slinks away. Traitor. “We’re just joking with each other! Right, Seokjin?”

Jimin’s gaze swings from me to Seokjin, who is suddenly suspiciously calm. My eyes narrow. A silent conversation is definitely happening without my participation.

Finally, Seokjin just shrugs with a grin, “Sounds fair to me, Jiminie! (y/n) and I will work hard all night if we have to.”

“Fair?” I choke, “All night?”

Jimin, following Tabby’s lead, scurries away as my attention is diverted by Seokjin’s idiocy. “Scared to be alone with me, (y/n)?” Seokjin’s lips break into a sly smile, “Don’t worry, I don’t bite… much.”

With that parting remark, Seokjin winks at me and disappears back into the kitchen.

“Fuck me,” I breathe out. How would I survive this?

Five hours later, the last patron has been ushered out of the restaurant with the staff right on their heels. I curse as Yoongi waltzes out the door, fanning himself with a crisp fifty-dollar bill and winking obnoxiously. “Have fun!” He cackles, locking the restaurant doors behind him.

“No, please don’t offer to stay and help,” I grumble, sweeping stray pieces of lettuce out from under a table, “I am more than happy to stay here until the ass-crack of dawn with the biggest idiot on the face of the earth.”

“The biggest, huh?” The voice chuckles right in my ear, “How did you know?”

“Goddamnit, Seokjin!” I slap a hand to my heart, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, you oaf!”

Whirling to face him, I stutter to a halt. He’s taken off his heavy chef’s coat and is now left in a tight black t-shirt that clings to his body in a manner that has to be illegal.

I swallow hard, and for a split second, I swear Seokjin’s gaze latches onto my throat.

“Is it hot in here?” I mutter distractedly, tugging at the collar of my stiff white button-down.

“Yes,” Seokjin practically purrs, “It’s scorching.”

Choosing not to acknowledge him, I spin on my heels, grabbing the full dustpan of debris I collected and head towards the back of the restaurant.

Emptying the dustpan in the trash, I walk over to the supply closet to return the broom. The restaurant floor is finished. Now, I just had to see how much of the kitchen Seokjin actually cleaned.

Pushing through the swinging doors of the kitchen, I screech to a halt as I’m faced with a complete and utter miracle.

“What in tarnation?” I gasp, taking in the pristine kitchen full of glistening stainless steel and sparkling countertops. “Kim Seokjin!” I yell, “You damn wizard! How the fuck did you clean everything this fast?”

“You could say I was motivated,” his reply sounds entirely too close. I spin to face him and gape as I notice the bouquet of red roses that he’s holding out to me.

Taking in my speechless appearance, Seokjin smiles smugly and opens his mouth to continue.

I cut him off, “Tell me those aren’t the roses from the fucking table centerpieces... I threw those in the trash, Seokjin!”

His ears turn an alarming shade of magenta, “Yah, just accept the gesture, (y/n)! This is peak romance, you know!”

“They are covered in filth, dude!” I squint, peering closer, “Is that a piece of spaghetti in there?”

Seokjin yeets the makeshift bouquet back into the garbage, “Why can’t you just appreciate my efforts?” He pouts excessively, “Don’t you like me?”

Red alert. Red alert, my mind whirs.

“Sure,” I let out a nervous laugh, “We’re friends. Of course, I like you.”

He steps towards me, “Sure, we’re friends, (y/n), but friends don’t usually want to fuck each other.”

That bitch said what now?

“Did you inhale too much Clorox?” I panic, “Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” Thrusting three fingers in front of Seokjin’s amused face, I widen my eyes as he suddenly grabs my hand.

“Baby,” he says lowly, sending a delicious shiver down my spine, “If you keep being so adorable, I may just have to keep you.”

Well, shit, okay. “Say less,” I breathe and then immediately slam my mouth shut.

I receive a classic Seokjin grin in return for my idiocy, and my knees shake. Honestly, who the fuck allowed him to be that devastating?

Slowly, his grin slips away, and his eyes ignite with raw desire, “Tell me what you want from me, (y/n).”

My mind short circuits, automatically reverting to my default mode of sass, “Uh, peace and quiet?”

“Really?” Seokjin murmurs, stepping even closer still, “So you don’t want me to kiss you? You don’t want me to turn you over and fuck you until you scream?”

My breathing is ragged. His eyes burn with a hunger I had never seen before, and I’m crumbling.

“Answer me,” Jin demands, desperation seeped in each word, “Please.”

“Seokjin—” I gasp, dumbfounded, “Where the hell is this coming from? We’re coworkers! You’re my boss!”

His eyes flashed darkly as he moved his head closer to mine, “That’s all irrelevant, baby.”

“Irrelevant—!” I stab a finger into his firm chest, “Oh, you little shit, you can’t just say that you want to fuck me and then say that our working relationship is irrelevant! I could get fired. You could get fired!”

“That’s highly unlikely given the fact that everyone else knows my plans to ask you out right now.”

“Hold on a second,” I narrow my eyes, “Are you saying that you purposefully planned for us to stay late tonight to clean the entire goddamn restaurant just so you could ask me out? Are you fucking insane?”

“I prefer the term ‘quirky’,” he quips, “But, yeah, I may have paid everyone $50 to leave us alone for the night.”

“Well, that explains Yoongi… that shady motherfucker,” I internally make note to plot my vengeance. “Why couldn’t you have just slid in my DMs like a normal person, Seokjin?” I groan, “I would have responded to a ‘you up’ with a ‘yes, come over’.”

Seokjin whips out his cell phone. “Does this apply to right now?” he asks, typing furiously.

My phone dings with several Instagram notifications.

hughchefner: u up

hughchefner: wyd

hughchefner: date me?

(y/n): bet

Seokjin’s eyes shoot up to mine after he reads my response, “Really? You agreed to date me by saying ‘bet’ in an Instagram DM?”

“Yup,” I shrug, “No take-backs. Also, to answer your previous questions: Yes, I do want you to kiss me with your insufferable mouth, and, yes, I do want to sit on your dick. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Say less,” Seokjin echoes my earlier statement and captures my mouth with his. I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him back with equal fervor.

“(Y/n),” he groans right as my tongue swipes teasingly against his lower lip.

His hands slid down my body, pausing only to squeeze my waist gently before settling firmly on my ass. His fingers dig in hard and I let out an embarrassingly loud moan.

“You like that, baby? You like when I’m rough?” Seokjin pulls his lips off mine and murmurs sinfully, “God, I want to devour you.”

I lift my chin up and challenge, “Do it, you won’t.”

His eyes flare, “Oh, babygirl, you were made for me.” Seokjin’s lips return to mine, moving at a slow but ravenous pace.

Still kissing me, he picks me up and places me on one of the kitchen’s stainless steel counters. His hands grab my thighs, tugging them apart to make room for him to stand between them. A harsh groan rises from the depths of his chest as our bodies align.

I hook one leg around his waist and tug him closer still. Pulling my lips away, I lean my head back as I slowly trace his muscles through his shirt. He watches me with his puffy lips parted, his breathing hard. His eyes are wild and I’m loving every second of it.

The room suddenly feels too hot. My hands dart up to shakily begin undoing the buttons of my shirt. Seokjin’s eyes follow my movements with fascination. “Let me,” he purrs and proceeds to rip my shirt from my body. Buttons scatter on the floor with sorrowful little bounces.

“You bitch,” I yank his hair, “That was my good work shirt.”

“I’ll buy you ten more,” Seokjin’s voice is rough and full of desire as he takes in my lacy white bra. Suddenly, his mouth descends to suck at my nipple through the thin lace.

“Damn, you are so fucking sexy,” he pulls his mouth away, “Can I take this off?”

I nod like a bobblehead in 60mph winds, reaching around my back with one hand to undo the clasp and then throwing my bra clear across the kitchen. It lands on top of one of the fridges and I shrug. I’d retrieve it later.

Seokjin tugs off his own shirt, revealing planes of tanned skin. I don’t hesitate to run my hands up and down the definition of his abs and watch in fascination as his muscles constrict under my touch. I run my hands lower, tracing his defined v-line.

No wonder they call it the Adonis belt, I muse, pondering if he’d let me lick it.

Huffing in impatience at my slow exploration, Seokjin returns his mouth to my nipple and sucks hard. My eyes nearly roll into the back of my head. He bites down gently and then blows on my nipple slowly. I moan at the sensation. I watch him through unfocused eyes as his hand slides down the front of my body. He reaches the button of my pants and pauses.

Seokjin pulls his mouth away from my nipple, his lips swollen and pink. “You have to say yes, baby.” His breath hits my ear, making me shiver.

I hold out my hand for a high-five and declare, “We stan a man who asks for clear consent.” Chuckling, Seokjin slaps my offered hand and then links his fingers with mine.

“Also,” I continue, looking into his eyes, “It’s a fuck yes.” I pull our linked fingers close to place a kiss on his knuckles.

“Cute,” he grins, “Now, can I take off your pants?”

“Take off yours first,” I order.

“So eager,” he laughs, making quick work of his black jeans. My mouth instantly waters at the sight of his hard cock straining to be released from the confines of his bright red Versace boxer briefs.

“Why am I not surprised that even your underwear is extra?” I mumble, flicking the button of my pants open.

Laughing, Seokjin takes over, tugging my pants down my legs. He then pushes my matching white lace panties aside and cups my pussy, applying pressure. I roll my hips into his hand.

His fingers trace lightly up and down my pussy, before one dips inside me. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groans.

“Always,” I breathe out. Suddenly, he pulls his hand away from me. I pout. Seokjin laughs at my expression and then licks his finger.

“Jesus fuck, (y/n), you taste so sweet. Let me eat you out,” he pleads.

I smirk, saying, “I thought you’d never ask,” and then gasp as he kneels before me, grabbing my hips. Seokjin moves to tear my underwear off, and I’m quick to place my foot on his forehead to stop his approach. “I swear to god, Seokjin, if you rip these, I will get Namjoon to permanently ban Seokjin Specials.”

“You’re evil,” he grins, “I love it.” He makes a show of slowly taking my panties off before throwing them carelessly behind him. He then yanks the same leg I had used to thwart his panty-tearing plans and throws it over his shoulder before returning his fingers to my pussy. Seokjin’s thumb circles my clit while two of his fingers thrust into me at a maddening rate.

My fingers grip his hair when I finally feel his tongue licking up the juices that have started to run down my thighs.

After sucking what will probably become a massive hickey onto my left inner thigh, his tongue licks a path straight up my folds until it circles around my clit maddeningly. “Goddamnit, Seokjin, stop teasing,” my voice cracks in desperation, but my plea works. His tongue flicks at my clit lightly before his lips close over it and suck.

“Fuck,” I moan, “I think I like you eating me out more than I like eating your cooking.”

He pulls back to briefly land a light swat on my pussy and I choke on air as painful pleasure shoots through me. “Take that back,” he growls, “My cooking is second only to my handsome face.”

“God, I fucking hate you,” I drawl. The emphasis in my words portrays the exact opposite.

Seokjin sends me a shit-eating grin before his tongue returns to lick at my swollen clit, up and down, and then in a slow circle. His fingers brush open my folds just enough for him to sink his tongue into me. “O-oh,” I throw my head back, one hand moving up to pinch one of my nipples while the other latches back into Seokjin’s hair.

“I’m s-so close, baby,” my words slur as I shamelessly beg, “Don’t stop.”

He immediately pulls away.

“Oh, fuck you,” I seethe. I yank his head back by his hair until his neck is stretched in a long line. His hair is a mess, and I’ve never seen anything hotter.

“I just want to feel you come when I’m inside you, baby,” he smiles, my wetness glistening on his lips.

“Fine,” I shimmy off of the counter onto shaky legs, “Two can play at that game.”

“What?” Seokjin’s brows furrow in confusion.

It’s my turn to drop to my knees. “Oh, shit,” he curses as I tug his boxers down to reveal his hard cock. It’s silky and gorgeous, and I can’t stop staring at it. Seokjin, of course, notices. “You like my cock, babygirl? Take it. It’s yours.”

It already was, I think, as my gaze darts up to meet his.

Without breaking eye contact, I lick his reddened tip, almost moaning at his taste. “Fuck, babygirl,” Seokjin throws his head back. I smile wickedly. I could definitely get addicted to ruining this beautiful boy. “Look at me,” I command, feeling so powerful when he immediately listens.

Slowly, I suck down on his length, hollowing out my cheeks. My eyes stay on his as he groans, and I can tell he’s straining to keep from thrusting into my mouth.

“Please, baby, fuck—!” He moans as I swallow around him and then release him from my mouth with a pop. My hand darts up to grip him tightly, pumping him. Moving slowly, I suck one of his balls into my mouth, rolling my tongue around it gently. Seokjin chokes, “Fuck me.”

“We’ll get there, baby,” I tug my mouth away and grin up at him.

I suck him as far down as I can. His control snaps and he begins to thrust wildly into my mouth, panting.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” his eyes scrunch up as he chants, “I’m gonna come.”

I release him ruthlessly.

“Goddamnit,” he cries, “I knew that was coming, but it still hurts.”

“Well,” I wiggle my eyebrows at him, “If only you had a pretty little pussy ready for you to fuck… Oh, wait.”

Seokjin chuckles, “I see I wasn’t able to fuck some of the sass out of that mouth. We might have to try that again later.”

“Gladly,” I grin back at him, “You have a condom?”

Seokjin picks up his discarded jeans from the floor and digs around in the back pockets. “Aha!” He yells, hoisting up the glimmering gold foil in triumph.

I roll my eyes before snatching the condom from the idiot. Tearing the foil packaging open with my teeth, I grab Seokjin’s length and pump him a few times in preparation.

“Stop being a tease,” he mumbles, thrusting shallowly into my hand.

“Stop being so hot,” I challenge, leaning down to lick his pre-cum dripping from the reddened tip of his cock.

“Impossible,” Seokjin smirks before tugging me back up to face him.

He drops his lips to mine and sucks on my bottom lip. Pulling away slightly, he tugs at it in a stinging bite. Withdrawing his mouth from mine, he spins me around and bends me over the counter.

I feel the head of his cock running teasingly over the folds of my pussy and I gasp, “Please, baby, I need you inside me.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He thrusts into me in one sharp movement. We both gasp as he fills me, gliding in and out.

“Harder,” I moan.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “I’m trying to last over here.”

“Why? We have all night,” I pout before an idea pops into my head, and I taunt, “Wait, are you telling me you’re a one and done type of old man?”

“Oh, you’re going to regret that,” Seokjin mutters darkly.

His hard cock fills and stretches me, pleasure emanating within me from every sharp thrust of his hips.

“Your pussy is mine,” he growls, “I’ll fuck you from against the wall after this. I’ll fuck you until you can’t sass me anymore. And I’ll fuck you all night, baby, and every night after that.”

I clench around him as his dirty words wash over me. “Those are all great ideas in theory,” I gasp out, “But I really want to ride you first.”

“Oh, babygirl wants to fuck herself on my cock?” Seokjin slaps my ass before pulling out, “Well, come on.”

I stand upright and turn to see him walking towards the large island in the middle of the room. He hops onto it and lays down, placing one arm behind his head, and the other one slowly strokes his cock.

“You better get that hand off your cock before I decide to never let you into my pussy again,” I say darkly as I move towards him.

His hand flies off his dick at the speed of light, his eyes wide as they focus on me.

When I get close enough, I climb up onto the island and kneel with one leg on each side of his tapered waist. I slowly sink down so that just his tip is inside me and squeeze.

A garbled moan escapes Seokjin, his hands shooting out to grab my waist in an attempt to push me down further.

“Someone’s eager,” I whisper, bending down to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“I’ve been fucking eager since you were hired.” He smacks my ass and then groans as I reflexively sink down another inch.

“Yeah?” I question, sinking down another inch as his eyes squeeze shut, “You should have said something sooner, baby. I could have been riding you hard for months.”

Seokjin pouts, “Well, there’s no time like the present?”

“God, you’re such a dweeb,” I grin before taking him to the hilt. We both let out strangled breaths as I shift slightly, before placing a hand on his neck.

Keeping my hand there, I lift up and begin riding him hard. My body slides up and down onto his cock at a fast pace. Sweat drips down my back. Seokjin grabs my ass, his fingers gripping my skin, and pounds up into my pussy with brutal and possessive force.

“O-oh, fuck.” There’s something about riding Seokjin that just feels so good. My hips swivel and roll against his. The pleasure steadily builds, and I try to distract myself by biting down on Seokjin’s neck.

“I’m gonna come,” he moans, “Are you close?”

I pull away from his neck and sit up, arching my back to give him a deeper angle. He thrusts up into my g-spot and I gasp, “Shit, yes, I’m close. Come with me, baby.”

I clench my walls around him. Seokjin’s eyes are scrunched shut as he continues to pound into me with harsh strokes.

He shifts one hand from my ass to gently circle my aching clit, and I light up. My walls clench and pulse, locking down on Seokjin so tight that he comes, his hot seed filling the condom as he shudders.

I collapse against him and shove my face into his sweaty neck.

I can feel his laugh bubbling up from his chest before I hear it. “What’s so funny?” I ask, lips brushing his skin.

“Namjoon’s going to kill us for the number of health code violations we just committed,” his laughter causes his cock to shift within me, and I bite back a moan.

“Well,” I lift my face up from his neck to look at him, “We have nothing to lose at this point then, huh?”

I slowly lick my lips, and his eyes drop to them. The only noise left in the restaurant is our heavy breathing. “Round two in Namjoon’s office?” he suggests.

“Bet.”

a/n: this was so fun to write :) hope you all enjoyed it! happy valentine’s day!

#fwlproject #luvlibrary #bangtanhq #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #hyunglinenetwork #ksj #ksj x reader #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #bts #bts smut

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prorevenge · 4 years

Text

Manipulative Power hungry Aunt torments my family for years. Costs her $300000

Dealt with my shitty manipulative abusive Aunt all my life, finally got revenge.

Players: Myself (M late 30s), Sister (3 year younger), Aunt (Older "Sister" to my Mother), Mother (Single Mom, adopted, no blood relation to my Aunt). Cousins (3 total, 1M, 2F. I have good relationships with them now, mostly).

My estranged father who had been living several counties over, is pretty much out of the picture by the time my parents got their divorce when I was 9. Due to financial hardship, we were forced to live with my Aunt and the nightmare of a household we would soon find ourselves in. My Aunt married into Georgia "Wealth" and you can figure out what that means on your own. She had 3 kids and eventually caught her husband having an affair. It's a huge scandal, she gets the house, the kids and a fat payout from the family attorney. This is important because my Aunt didn't do a damn thing in her life to earn her money, her house, her lifestyle or basically anything. She was born poor along with my Mom.

Under her household, she was drunk with power. Years of therapy have allowed me to recognize that certain people when in a position of power, get a perverse pleasure in ordering others to do their bidding. She was the strictest of authoritarians in every possible way you could imagine. Chores had to be completed by an exact specific time. Vacuuming by 3:45pm, Dishes by 3:55pm, Laundry days for my Mother us kids were Tues/Thurs 5:35pm-7:55pm. If it was still running, she would shut the power off for the two units. As we grew older, her own kids opted to stay with their father for full time custody and she had them on Weekends. Even they couldn't stand her when she was in charge and in the house. As time passed, she got them less and less opting for alternating weekends as Highschool activities took precedence over time with Mother.

For my sister and I, the large 6 bedroom house was not ours for the taking. My mom had to pay rent as well as rent for 1 bedroom as that was all she could afford on her salary. We had to share a bedroom until my second year of HS. All the while there was 1 spare unused bedroom available at all times. My Aunt needed this for "Guests" when they stayed over. Not one guest stayed there in the 10 years I was under that roof. Finally the church we attended told my Aunt to give up the spare bedroom so my sister can have her own room as it was "unhealthy" for two teenagers sharing a room together like that. That infuriated my Aunt because someone told her what to do in her own household. My sister and I got the brunt of her wrath. As my Mom's salary was tapped out, my sister and I had do extra chores like mowing the lawn, trimming the shrubs, cleaning the pool which we could no longer use without her being outside watching us.

My Aunt's behavior was becoming more and more outrageous and disconnected from society. For example, she had always snapped her fingers when she wanted to get someones attention, but it was getting far more frequent and she would blow up into a tirade if either my sister and I didn't obey. Her own kids tried repeatedly to tell her that the shit she was doing was wrong but she wouldn't listen.Eventually they wanted nothing to do with her outside of the home. She was a tyrant there and repeated intervention to get her to see the folly of her ways would fall on deaf ears.

I Snapped:

All through HS I had no confidence as a person. I was weak willed and growing ever distant from friends and society. I say this in all truthfulness and fear, that had circumstances continued the way they had been going, I could very well had taken a gun to myself or worse, to others around me. I was that bad off.

I had just graduated HS and started my first semester of community college. I'm 2 weeks into my classes attending from home when my Aunt drops a bomb on me. "You owe me $$$ for this months rent, the same amount for next months rent as well. It is the 27th after all. You're an Adult now. You're out of HS and working now, so you need to pay rent" The fuck? I blew a fucking gasket as I yelled back. "You can't just suddenly decide to charge me rent just because you feel like it. I need 30 days notice, I have rights".

My Aunt yelled at me some bullshit excuse that she had discussed this with my mother and it was decided that I needed to pay my own rent now. In some miraculous backbone move, of which I still have no idea how I stood up to her, I yelled right back at her, "If I'm an Adult, then treat me like and talk to me about rental agreements. I'll start paying you rent in 30 days starting the 1st." I turned my back to her and walked away with my fists balled tight. I was furious with anger but I walked away. My Aunt saw my fists from behind and screamed bloody murder that I was going to attack her. No, I wasn't. She snapped her fingers at me repeatedly on my tail to get my attention but I didn't turn around. I needed to cool off and clear my head. As I turned the corner, she grabbed my wrist hard yelling "I'm not finished talking to you". I threw my still balled up fist forward keeping with my stride to break her grip as I hadn't stopped my momentum. This caused her grabbing arm to slam hard into the corner of the wall that I had just turned into. She screamed in pain but I left the house and took off.

The aftermath of that incident was that my Aunt called the cops on me in an attempt to press charges. She was taken to the hospital and suffered a fractured wrist and she was put in a cast/sling (don't know as I never saw it and never inquired further). Her story changed every time she told the cops what happened while my story was spot on every time. I can still recall that moment down to the smell in the house, where I was facing, the working and non-working lightbulbs etc. Forever ingrained in me. I was kicked out of the house and I couldn't visit my sister or my Mom there at the house again. Fine by me as I didn't want to see my bitch Aunt ever again. I was happy to meet my Mother and sister at the local diner or outlet. We could be ourselves there and not hostages in our own home.

Years Later:

My Mom wised up and got out of that abusive relationship with her sister and moved out on her own. She got a temporary nice place, invested wisely and with the help from the church, got help getting a place of her own. In 2009 after the housing crisis, she bought her own place that she could never have afforded on her own prior the Market crash. But some good came out of it. She wept knowing my Sister (and her family) and myself can come visit any time and stay.

Over the years I've been able to forgive my Aunt. Not forget, Forgive. I've let go a lot of my anger and hatred toward her that she put me through. When she has no leverage or control over us, she's a somewhat decent person for being a total bitch of a person. My Cousin's have calmed down, heard my side of what happened those years ago and know what kind of person I am compared to what kind of person their Mother is. They chose to believe me and know I didn't hit her or strike her or beat her across the face like she continues to claim.

The Revenge:

While I have been able to forgive my Aunt for what she has done to me, I cannot forgive her for what she did to my Mother. Kept her in financial hardship for a decade while she sat on a bank account full of cash and assets. Or what she did to my Sister. Forced her to pay for damages because the water heater burst while my Aunt and Mother was away one weekend leaving my sister at home. She didn't discover the flooded rooms for hours. My Aunt's reasoning, "It was her responsibility to watch the house." Not the responsibility of the home owner to maintain/replace the water heater before it goes. Lets leave that Upfront $5000 financial burden before the Flood insurance kicks in on a 16 year old girl.

I've had little to no contact with my Aunt since I was kicked out of the house nearly 2 decades ago. But I do keep in constant contact with my cousins. While I'm not going to divulge what I do for a living, I can say that I work with and for the Government. I've worked my ass off getting to where I'm at today. I'm known for being truthful, wise and giving good advise when asked. Because of this, I often talk financially with my cousins. All of whom are money-smart and are doing well for themselves. They often then relay this information to their scheming mother who has no mind for business and investments. All that money she got from her house sale, her divorce settlement, her previous investments is pretty much gone. I spent YEARS planning on the perfect trap and it took a long time to prepare everything to make sure everything appeared right.

IANAL and I don't pretend to know the law but I do know the regulations and laws pertaining to insider information. This is not that. 100% certain of it and if I ever go to court, I know my lawyer has a solid case in my defense. But is this a grey area, most definitely. I let slip to my Cousins about some future real estate plans near my Aunt's new area of living. It "may" be worth a lot more because of future development taking place in the area. All of that was true and backed up by what was in the News paper and New Construction signs that newly appeared on Google Maps (at the time). The rest was fabricated by myself backed up by actual information I looked up on real estate websites and on projects I was working on through my work.

The Telephone game takes place and a few weeks later I presume, my Aunt starts making phone calls to real estate agents trying to buy lots of Land in the undeveloped shitty area of her new house. Over the course of a few months to a half a year, she spends $300,000 of her last remaining savings on land hoping it will pay out when the area around it gets developed in the upcoming years.

Only, HUD/Government/City doesn't have any plans to develop in those immediate areas. In fact, analysis showed that building in those areas was poor planning and would cost the tax payers twice to three times as much as the land was not environmentally sound. It was best to build 6 miles away.

This post was long overdue because it's been over 2 years since my Aunt purchased Land that is basically worthless. See, she won't sell the land unless she gets at least the same price she paid for it because she's the OWNER of that land. Can't tell her what to do on her own land. Sweet Karma strikes in a way I couldn't possibly have foreseen. My cousin informed me that the value of the land has decreased significantly because it's not environmentally sound to build anything commercial there. But it's zoned for commercial use. Currently 3 of the 4 blocks of land she purchased are just weed farms next to eye sore abandoned buildings or industrial complexes. Nobody can build on it and nor does anyone want to buy it. Sucks to be her!

Best part is, my cousins have absolutely no idea that I set them up for their Mother to take the fall. These environmental results are relatively new and the perfect cover to say why the Project changed locations 6 miles away.

TL:DR Abusive Aunt torments my family and myself for a decade and more. Decades later, I am in a position to trick her buying worthless land. Icing on the cake, that land can't be used for it's intended purpose and has devalued significantly.

(source) story by (/u/Limecherrry)

#prorevenge #by /u/Limecherrry #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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demigodlunar · 3 years

Text

Scars - Chapter 3

Wow, people have already read this sooo fast! Thanks so much, I appreciate it :D

_____________________________________________________________

Chapter 3 - Take Over With Grace

“Mr. Grace?”

Jason was jerked out of his fantasies of being a normal child- for about the millionth time- when he heard his last name being tossed out carelessly in the large crowd.

He shielded his eyes from the camera’s flash setting and the just the sight of the showy clothes of the countless paparazzi and media that were here for the interview.

“Mr. Grace, what do you have to say about the shares in the stock market for Olympic Inc. going down last week?”, one of the nameless news reporters asked, arousing another round of nods and agreement.

And once again, Jason sighed in relief that the question wasn’t directed towards him. He was Mr. Grace, yes.

But not to the public. To the public, Jason was just a secretary or student intern that happened to be at the interview. No one important. His father, Zeus Grace, was the one that was being bombarded by questions.

Jason could hear his father's loud and commanding voice over the racket of the others, answering the question with a calm, precise tone and reassuring words. He gulped, being reminded once again that this could- would- be him soon.

The annoying little voice in the back of his head whispered again, you’re almost 18. Almost time to take over the company.

Jason tried to keep the headache at bay. He hated the fact that soon, he wouldn’t be a normal 18-year-old boy without a care in the world. After he graduated from high school next year, Jason’s father wouldn’t even bother sending him to college. He would take over Olympic Inc. the moment he threw his square graduation cap in the air.

Jason could remember a distinct memory from when his parents were still talking to each other.

~~~~~~~~~~

8-year-old Jason Grace peeked out from behind the door to stare into the living room, where his parents were yelling at full volume, not even caring to lock the door or try to reduce their voices to not scare the children.

“He’s just 8 years old,” his mother, Beryl Grace, screamed, “A child! You can’t bring him into all your business and politics, I won’t allow it!”

“He’s my child, so I will decide whether I start teaching him how to take over the company when he’s older, and introduce him to the press.”, Zeus yelled back with just as much vigor.

“Your child! YOUR CHILD!” Beryl screeched, “He’s my child too! You already told the world about Thalia and now she can’t even leave the house without the media asking her if she’s going to take over the company!”

Jason winced at his mother’s voice, not even understanding what they were so upset about. If they could just talk it out, maybe they could come to an understanding.

“Thalia will not be taking over the company,” Zeus argued, taking on a defensive tone, “I vowed only my first-born son would be the head. Besides, Thalia wouldn’t want to take over. Once I tell the media that Jason will be the new CEO, they will get off her case.”

“And then what about Jason? Then they start stalking him? AT 8?” Beryl yelled, screaming a string of words that almost made Jason’s ears bleed afterward.

“Fine,” Zeus said, deadly calm, “Until Jason is legally an adult, we will keep him hidden from the public. I will still teach him what he needs to know, but he can be seen as a normal boy at least until then. Then, he will take over the company.”

Jason stood there, trying to figure out what “take over the company” and “new CEO” meant. Now, Jason was a smart boy, but this seemed to stump him. Would he become like Daddy? Working all the time and wearing those tight looking suits and ties?

Ew.

Jason didn’t want to do that, that seemed boring.

He turned his attention back to his parents in the living room, and they had calmed down excessively. He tuned into the conversation to hear what they were saying.

“... you take Thalia and I will take Jason,” Zeus said, holding his hand out to Beryl.

She stared at it for a couple of seconds before grabbing it and shaking it briskly, “Deal, but they have to be able to meet. They love each other, you know.”

Zeus sighed, “Of course, every Saturday and Sunday?”

Beryl nodded and she started walking to the door that Jason was hiding behind. Jason jumped back as she pushed it open and walked up to Thalia’s room.

The next hour was a blur and all he remembered was Thalia crying and yelling that she didn’t want to go, and that made Jason cry too. He didn’t like to see his sister cry, she was really good to him. After they both calmed down, Jason learned a new word.

Divorce. It rolled off his tongue but in a bad way. When your parents left and lived in different houses.

Well, Jason thought, At least I will get to see them still.

But living with his dad was something that Jason never got used to.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jason was startled out of the memory when a finger snapped under his nose three times in quick succession. He looked up bewildered at the snapper. Thalia grinned down at him and put her arm around him.

“Hey, little bro! Spacing out again I see.”

Jason rolled his eyes but smiled fondly, “You're only one year older. Besides, I was just thinking of when I have to take over the company.”

Thalia’s easy smile disappeared, and she frowned, “I still can’t believe that dad is giving you no choice at all. I mean, you're wasting your life on something that will never make you happy.”

Jason sighed, every time that this topic was brought up Thalia made the same argument. He tugged at his tie, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“Just let it go, Thals.”

Thalia huffed but didn’t add any more fuel to the conversation. Then, she smiled widely. Jason almost tripped from the sudden change of attitude.

“I just remembered! I gotta go, little bro, Piper is having brunch at her place today,” she said while wiggling her eyebrows in a weird way.

Jason felt heat rush to his cheeks when his sister mentioned Piper Mclean. He could remember the first time he saw her.

It was in the hallway during their freshman year. He saw her stand up to Drew Tanaka when she was bullying some poor boy who looked at her wrong or something. When she yelled at Drew and embarrassed her in front of the whole hallway, Jason felt like he’d been shot.

If it wasn’t enough that Piper was a kind-hearted, brave person, she was also painfully beautiful. Even when she cut her hair, and wore baggy clothes, she was still extremely gorgeous. She also never noticed him.

It was safe to say that he had a very big crush on her.

“R-really?” he stammered, blushing, and wishing he never told Thalia about his crush in the first place because she found a reason to make fun of him for it all the time.

Thalia smirked and whipped out her phone and went to her messaging app, bringing up Piper’s contact.

Thalia wanted to introduce Jason to Piper to help him with his hopeless crush, but he’d voted against it. As painful as it was, he couldn’t be introduced as Thalia’s brother, because that would mean explaining their complicated family tree, including Percy (who Jason hasn’t heard from in years) and the fact that he would be a CEO of a famous company in a little over two years.

Jason brought his attention back to Thalia’s phone, where she was texting Piper. Their conversation was pretty casual.

(AN: Thalia, Piper)

Today - 11:34 AM

hey Pipes

hey Thals

wassup

nothing much, you?

i’m here with my brother at one of my dad’s interview things

Jason almost shrieked, but that wouldn’t be very manly of him. Instead, he shook Thalia’s shoulder forcefully.

“THALIA!” he winced as his voice squeaked.

“What?” Thalia frowned at him.

He stared at her, and sudden realization dawned on her as Piper’s reply came.

you have a brother?

“Oh shoot, oh shoot, oh shoot!” Thalia yelped, juggling her phone like it was on fire, “Oh my gods, what do I say? Should I say I was lying?”

“Yeah, because she’ll definitely believe it if you say ‘oh I was just kidding, sometimes I imagine I have a brother!’ She would think you’re crazy!” Jason deadpanned.

Thalia glared at him, and then she sighed resignedly, “Well, she knows now, and she’s one of my good friends, so I may as well just tell her the truth.”

Jason didn’t like that idea, but Thalia was already texting Piper again. He looked at the screen to see the conversation again.

yeah

EXCUSE ME, but how come you’ve never told me about him?

never came up

fine, you win, for now. show me a pic?

And in the next second, Thalia found a picture of Jason laughing at a joke that Hazel made, and sent it.

Jason made a mad grab for her phone, but it was too late. Oh no, he looked so dorky in that picture.

“Chill it bro, you look fine,” Thalia said, her eyes still on the screen.

Then, her face looked like she’d hit a gold mine, and she pushed the screen in front of Jason’s face.

oh, that cute boy you sit with at lunch sometimes? He’s really good looking.

Jason almost dropped the phone, and stood there rooted to the ground as Thalia cackled in the background.

Piper. Piper Mclean. Thought he, Jason Grace, was good looking?!?!? Jason felt like he might die.

Thalia wheezed as her laughing fits started subsiding, “Oh-oh my gods. Th-that was amazing!”

Then she typed a reply to Piper.

yes, he is, and he’s also here looking at our conversation.

Thalia erupted into another bout of laughter, and Jason waited for Piper to respond. But she didn’t.

He didn’t know how to feel about that.

Jason’s watch beeped, and he remembered that he was supposed to be heading to Hazel and Nico’s apartment to hang out. He waved goodbye to Thalia (who was still laughing like a lunatic) and made his way back to the apartments where his cousins lived.

Gods, he needed to clear his head before he went brain dead, and spending time with family, other than his dad, helped with that.

My, oh my, this was gonna be an eventful year. _____________________________________________________________

Hehe, there's some Jiper for ya. Poor Jason, being stifled like that... I can relate :(

-Blossom ;)

#percy jackon and the olympians #soulmates #percabeth #caleo #solangelo #jiper #frazel #heroes of olympus #pjo fanfic #pjo angst #jason grace #thalia grace #piper mclean

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sociallyawkward--fics · 4 years

Text

Certainly Fucking Feels Like It

Alright!! This is a sequel to this tiny little oneshot I wrote a couple weeks back called I Have Loved You for a Hundred Years (that I didn’t even mean to write in the first place, and I didn’t mean to write this one either but y’all can thank ao3 user MsLalaga, and also while writing this second one I got ideas for a third and fourth one so I’ll just never be free lol, there’s more to come)

Word Count: 4458 words

[ao3 link]

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

Geralt expected to be the first one awake the next morning, as usual, but instead when he peeled his eyes open, they were met by a pair of vibrant green irises staring curiously at him over Jaskier’s torso.

“What?” He grunted tiredly, making sure to be quiet enough to wake Jaskier.

Ciri didn’t speak for a few moments. “You… just looked so peaceful. Usually even when meditating, or even sleeping, you look sad or angry.”

Geralt grunted wordlessly and sat up, careful not to jostle Jaskier. “Go back to sleep,” he said softly, reaching over to run a hand through her hair and across her cheek.

She leaned her face into his hand for a moment and pressed an affectionate little peck to the base of his palm before laying back down and cuddling into Jaskier, ashen blonde hair splaying out messily across the abundance of pillows. Geralt sat there for a few minutes until her breathing evened out and just watched the two people who had stolen his heart rest. When he was certain Ciri had fallen back asleep, he carefully slipped out of the bed and quietly padded out of the room.

He forwent his boots or putting on any more layers as he left. He could feel the numerous wards Yennefer had surrounding the building. If someone unsavory or unwanted managed to get in, even his armor wouldn’t save him, then.

Geralt busied himself fixing breakfast for everyone in Yen’s spacious kitchen. It took him a few minutes to orient himself with where everything was, but soon enough he was cooking peacefully and relaxing into the familiar motions he rarely got to use on the Path. He was so focused and relaxed, even, that he actually missed the sound of Yennefer padding in.

“Good morning,” she purred, draping herself at a counter to watch him work.

Geralt stopped himself from jumping or flinching at her unexpected appearance. “Hm.” He grunted.

Out of his peripheral, he saw her roll her eyes. “Come, Geralt. Not even a morning greeting for your old friend?”

Just to be stubborn, he continued to avoid the greeting and moved on with the question he had for her. “Is Ciri going to become immortal and stop ageing through her youth?”

But Yennefer was also nothing if not stubborn. She draped her far-too-fancy nightgown gracefully over the ground and leaned against the counter next to him with her eyebrows raised.

Geralt rolled his eyes and growled out, “Good morning.”

She smiled at him, serene yet teasing. “Magic is a fickle thing,” she responded. “Seeing as it comes from chaos. Magic from love, even moreso. The chaos of love is not something I even will even pretend to understand.” She wrinkled her nose with distaste.

“Yes, we know you dislike that, Yennefer, but we’re talking about more than romantic love, stop making that face. I am not attracted to Roach, and I am certainly not attracted to Cirilla.”

Yennefer sighed as her moment of appreciating her disgust was interrupted. “It’s hard to say,” she said, checking her nails as Geralt began plating the food. “I didn’t sniff her out for traces of magic, I was more preoccupied with your bard and horse. It is possible, yes, that she will halt ageing and forever remain your little teenage daughter. What affect that would have on her, psychologically speaking, I cannot say.”

“Yennefer--”

“But,” she interrupted with a sharp glance. “Tell me, do you love her as much as you do Roach? Or Jaskier? And I mean the same amount, not the same way.”

Geralt resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose as he thought about it. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he had feelings, and Yennefer was asking him what he felt? He wasn’t exactly going to be the king of emotion identification, at this point in time.

“I… think so?”

Yennefer sighed with intense annoyance, but continued. “And how long have you felt this way about her?”

“Since the moment I saw her in the woods,” Geralt said without hesitation. “The moment she looked at me with such trust in her eyes and ran into my arms without a thought otherwise.”

A hint of a smile played at Yennefer’s lips as she turned to grab some drinking glasses from a nearby cupboard. “And tell me, it’s been, oh, a couple months? She’s at an age where children sprout up like beanstalks. Has she grown at all?”

Geralt took a moment to think about it. Jaskier had made a joke the other day about how tall she was getting, but that could have just been his usual teasing. She did seem taller when she hugged him the other day than when she had the first time, though…

“Yes,” Geralt said with uncertainty.

Yennefer helped Geralt carry the dishes of food to her extravagant dining room. “Then she’s probably fine. I’ll check for any magic on her, later, though it may be fuzzy because of her own magic.”

“Elder blood will do that,” Geralt grunted, pouring juice into the cups Yennefer had fetched.

“Now, you tell me something, witcher.”

“Hm?”

“What were they both doing in your room, last night?”

Geralt paused where he was pouring a drink. “Were you spying on us?”

Yennefer waved her hand dismissively with a disarming smile. “Simply checking in on you, you see.”

Geralt hummed and set the pitcher of juice aside. “Ciri had a nightmare.”

“Alright. Why was Jaskier in your room?”

Geralt furrowed his brow and stared at her. “I just said, Ciri had a nightmare.”

Yennefer cocked her head and crossed her legs. “Why didn’t he just take her back to his room to comfort her to sleep? Or her own? She fell asleep just fine without you, otherwise, and it’s not like the fresh sheets would’ve smelled like you. Why did he choose your bed?”

Geralt did not have an answer. Luckily, he did not have to come up with one, as a bright and cheery Ciri and a groggy Jaskier tumbled into the dining room only moments after he started thinking. He only hoped he hadn’t heard any of the conversation beforehand.

Ciri made a beeline for him when she saw and hugged him tight around his waist. Like every time she had hugged him so far, it took him a few seconds of hesitation to get with the program and wrap his arms around her fragile form. She gave him one last tight squeeze before releasing him and skipping over to one of the seats at the table with a fixed plate.

“Thanks for breakfast, Dad,” she chirped, almost unthinkingly.

She didn’t seem to realize what she said, but Geralt certainly wasn’t prepared for the words. He could only have one crisis at a time, dammit. And Yen and Jaskier’s grins directed at him were not helping matters.

Geralt filed that one away to deal with later, and gestured for Jaskier to take a seat. Breakfast was quiet as they devoured food that for once wasn’t heavily salted jerky or a fresh kill roasted half-heartedly over a weak fire in the cold air. Winter was approaching fast, and food was growing scarce, so having a meal like this (and not in an inn, where they had to pay for it) was a refreshing and much-needed change of pace.

About halfway through the meal, Yennefer and Ciri started leaning over their chairs to whisper conspiratorially in each other’s ears, giggling and smiling like children who thought they were getting away with something. Geralt let himself filter the whispers out into background noise instead of eavesdropping, let them have their fun.

“Well, that was a wonderful breakfast,” Jaskier said, far more awake now than he had been before eating. “Thank you, Geralt, for such a wonderful meal! Now, if all of you lovely people would excuse me for several moments, Ciri pulled me out of bed rather abruptly at the smell of good food and I would like to get ready for the day.”

Jaskier rose from the table and trailed from the room, an absent-minded hand dragging across Geralt’s shoulders and neck as he walked past. It was normal for them, and it never met anything before, but for some reason, after last night, the touch felt more, now.

“Geralt?” Ciri asked, startling him out of his thoughts. “Yennefer wanted to take me out to the market today. I was wondering, is that alright?”

Geralt hesitated.

“Oh, come on, Geralt,” Yennefer goaded. “Let her have a girls day, who knows how long it’ll be until I’m able to steal her away for another one.”

“It could be dangerous--”

“I’ll wear my hat!” Ciri blurted. “Or my hood, whatever you want!” She clasped her hands below her chin and gave him the most pitiful look she could muster. “Oh, please, Geralt, please!”

Geralt gave in quickly at that look, ignoring Yennefer’s smug expression. “Alright. But the hat stays on. And you’re not out too long.”

Ciri squealed with excitement and jumped out of her seat to race around the table and wrap her arms around Geralt’s neck. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Geralt couldn’t help the rumble of a chuckle that left his throat at her theatrics. “Go get dressed, Ciri.”

Ciri obediently raced off to do just that. Yennefer turned a smug look on Geralt, like she’d just gotten away with something that Geralt was not going to be happy about.

“No magic,” he said sternly, her look immediately setting him on edge, “unless for self-defense. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Looks like you and the bard will have the whole house to yourselves for a while,” Yennefer said, that self-satisfied look not even bothering to falter. “Perfect to take the time to talk to him about all this.”

Geralt felt his already slow heart stop. Sure, he had told Jaskier last night that they’d discuss it in the morning, but now, in the light of day and not in the private darkness of a bedroom late at night, he suddenly was very against that idea. Plus, hopefully Jaskier had forgotten the whole thing due to the late hour and his heavy eyes.

Yennefer frowned at him. “Stop that. You’re going to talk to him about it.”

Geralt scowled. “Don’t poke through my brain.”

She raised an unimpressed brow. “I don’t have to. I know how you think, and I know that look on your face.” Her face shifted into something a little more understanding. “Look, I understand feelings are exactly easy for you, but the man deserves to know that you’ve accidentally made him immortal and tied your lifelines.”

Geralt sighed. She was right, of course. That didn’t make it any easier.

Yennefer flitted off to ready herself for the day, as well. Geralt went about cleaning the dishes he used as best as he could. Ciri was the first one to come back out into the living spaces of the house, which was both surprising since she was the princess, and also not, considering she didn’t have much and Geralt couldn’t afford to pamper her. Hopefully, Yennefer could get her some nice things, even if it would make travelling a little harder with the heavier load.

Jaskier and Yennefer came back out at the same time, appearances both immaculate. They still somehow found ways to spout insults at each other, but Geralt knew better than to pay them mind, now.

“Come, Ciri,” Yennefer said, eventually extracting herself from the friendly insult-war. “Let’s have our girls’ day.”

Ciri bounced after Yennefer and shot Geralt a smug look, and Geralt immediately knew that she knew. Yennefer gave him a matching look as she herded Ciri out the front door.

“Talk to him,” she said obviously, and the door shut behind them.

“Talk to me about what?” Jaskier asked from behind him.

Geralt, predictably, chickened out. “Would you like more breakfast?” He asked, voice strained. “I think I’m still hungry, as well.” And he fled to the kitchen.

Jaskier followed him, albeit at a slower pace. “You’re avoiding,” he said.

“Jaskier--”

“Geralt, what do we need to talk about?”

“Jaskier--”

“Wait, does this have something to do with how weird you were last night? And you said we’d talk about it to--”

Geralt slammed the bowls and dishes onto Yennefer’s counter, producing a loud bang. His hands were shaking. “Jaskier, please.”

Jaskier stopped. Geralt didn’t plead, or really tend to have any manners at all, so he must have been taking Geralt very seriously at the moment.

“Okay,” he said eventually, after they’d stood frozen in the silence for far too long.

Geralt took a deep breath and nodded, starting to move again. Wordlessly, Jaskier sidled up next to him and helped him prepare the second breakfast that neither of them was really hungry for, but they were going to eat anyway. Jaskier was silent throughout the whole process, which was probably meant to try and let Geralt think, but truly it just set him on edge because Jaskier should never be quiet, let alone silent.

Jaskier took a deep breath as they set their second breakfast on the dining room table. “I don’t mean to set you more on edge, Geralt, I really don’t, but… you’re worrying me.”

Geralt resisted the urge to reach up and fiddle with his medallion.

“I just… You know how… Witchers don’t have emotions.”

Jaskier’s face went stormy. “And how it’s bullshit, yes.”

Geralt’s head jerked back a little in surprise. Whenever it was brought up, Jaskier always seemed discontent with it, but it was always met with a sigh and a teasing remark, never a response this angry.

Jaskier raised an eyebrow at his recoil. “Geralt, come on. I have no doubt that such an idea was created by people who hated and feared people like you, just to make others fear and hate you. I’ve seen you, and unless you’re the most emotional witcher alive, there’s no doubt in my heart that you feel. You’re too kind and good to not, not to mention the way you look at Ciri.”

“But I--”

“I think you’ve just been told so much over the years that you can’t feel, that you’ve started to believe it. I think they hurt you enough and convinced you so hard that you’re the monster, that you actually thought it was true because so many people told you it was and that destroyed you. But I will not stand for that, Geralt of Rivia, no sir.”

Jaskier was panting when he was finished, face pinched in anguish and a little red with anger. He was always so expressive, always let his emotions burn bright and knew how to identify them. Geralt wanted to be able to do that -- was he jealous? Envious? Was there a difference?

He cleared his throat. “I, um, yes. I am coming to understand that, now?”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes and leaned over the table. “Geralt, I know you’re not good with your words, but I am very confused and very worried and I would like you to speak very plainly about whatever the hell is going on.”

“I have feelings.” Geralt said.

“Yes, I’ve known this.”

“And you’re immortal.”

“Yes, very good, I--” Jaskier stopped mid-sentence and his eyes went wide as he sputtered, flinging himself back in his chair. He brought his hands up to his face, fingers splayed, and examined them like they held the secrets to the universe. “I’m sorry, I’m what?” He asked, voice getting shrill.

“Immortal.” Geralt said, internally wincing. He knew this wasn’t going to go well. “So is Roach, apparently.”

Jaskier looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Roach is-- what--I--” His voice went all high pitched and nervous. “How old is Roach?!”

“I stopped keeping track,” Geralt said honestly, his own nerves finally starting to pitch into his voice. “I’ve had her since… well, at least a decade before meeting you, possibly longer. Like I said, I stopped keeping track.”

At his tone of voice, Jaskier seemed to take a moment to collect himself. He took a few deep breaths before looking up, voice and expression far more calm. Geralt would’ve been inclined to think Jaskier was lying for his sake, it wouldn’t have been the first time, but he even smelled calmer, so Geralt believed him.

“So I guess it wasn’t my skincare that kept me looking so good for so long,” Jaskier said with a wry smile.

Geralt released some of the tension from his shoulders and let a huff of breath. Jaskier lit up, clearly (correctly) assuming that it was laughter.

Jaskier took another deep breath and let it out on a humming sigh and his scent started to pick up his usual honey-sweet happiness again. “Well, it’s a bit of a shock, but I can certainly work with this. Gives me more time for my music, more time with you and Ciri. Think of all the ballads I can complete, I’ll become the best bard in the continent with all my study! And I can continue to travel because my bones will never grow old and frail! Geralt, this is quite the blessing!”

Geralt smiled and he finally felt settled enough to start eating the second breakfast he had really only made to keep his hands busy. Jaskier started eating, too, but continued his constant run of dialogue between mouthfuls. Everything was fine again. Until--

“Wait,” Jaskier said, setting his fork down and staring at Geralt in confusion. “How did this even happen? How are Roach and I immortal? And what does this have to do with you having feelings?”

Geralt nearly choked. Which, of course, just seemed to make Jaskier more anxious.

“I, uh, it’s-- It’s an interesting story, actually.” He managed after a minute or two of searching for words.

“Geralt.” Jaskier said warningly, taking a page out of his book.

Geralt sighed, his shoulders drooping even as the walls around his heart came up. He shut himself away, prepared for rejection. Somehow, rejection hadn’t even been on his mind until he actually had to confront the words he was about to say.

“Turns out,” Geralt said slowly, feeling out the words in his mouth, “since I can feel. Turns out that I-- I--” Geralt cut himself off with a frustrated breath.

Jaskier stood from his place at the table across from Geralt, and somewhere deep inside himself where there still lived a hurt and confused child, Geralt was certain he was going to leave him there and never come back. But Jaskier simply walked around the table to take the seat next to him, scooting it close enough that their bodies pressed together, and grabbing Geralt’s hands lightly in his own so that Geralt could pull away if he wanted.

“Tell me,” he whispered, eyes filled with patience and something Geralt couldn’t place. “Please?”

Geralt took a deep breath. “I love you.”

Jaskier froze next to him. “What?”

Geralt was sure he felt something in his chest shatter and he felt the strange urge to apologize. And then to make things worse, Jaskier started giggling. Then he started laughing fully, having the gall to lean into Geralt and hold Geralt’s hands close to his chest while having that kind of reaction. Geralt tried to tug his hands back, but Jaskier tightened his grip.

“No, no, dear heart,” Jaskier said, scooting his chair impossibly closer. “I’m not laughing at you, cross my heart. Darling, I’m laughing from relief. Very silly, I know, but my choices were either laugh or cry and I figured this one would worry you less, so I just--”

It was Geralt’s turn to say, “What?”

One of Jaskier’s hands released his and came up to cup Geralt’s face, turn his gaze towards him. Geralt couldn’t help but lean into the touch, just like Ciri had done to him that morning (he resisted the urge to kiss Jaskier’s palm), and Jaskier smiled wider at the motion.

“Of course I love you, too, you oaf. Twenty-two years of following you around like a heartsick puppy and you never picked that up?”

Geralt’s voice came out strangled, “I--no!”

Jaskier giggled again. “I should’ve been more obvious and forward with it, knowing you, I suppose.” Then his brow furrowed. “I still don’t understand what this has to do with me, or Roach for that matter, being immortal.”

Geralt groaned and buried his head in his hands for a moment. When he looked up again, Jaskier was giving him the most besotted look, and he had to look away again in fear he would keel over from the sheer adoration in his gaze.

“Yennefer says that my love for the two of you is… so intense that it became infused with magic. My love has tied our lifelines together, so you’ll both live as long as I do, exempting any fatal wounds.”

Geralt risked looking over at him, and Jaskier looked positively giddy. Geralt almost had to look away again, but Jaskier started moving again and he couldn’t bring himself to. Jaskier swung himself into Geralt’s lap, straddling him on the chair so that they faced each other, and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck. Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist on instinct to keep him from falling.

Jaskier brought one hand away from his neck to poke at Geralt’s chest smugly, a grin forming to match. “You love me,” he bragged. “You love me so damn much that your love did fucking magic so that we’d be together forever.”

“Yes,” Geralt said, grateful that witchers couldn’t blush.

“You love me.” Jaskier said, playing with inflections. “You love me. You love me. You love me.”

Despite still being mortally embarrassed, Geralt grinned at him. “Would you like me to say it again?” He teased.

Jaskier lit up more, because somehow that was possible when he was already shining brighter than the sun. “Oh, absolutely.”

Geralt’s smile softened. “I love you.” It seemed like the words got easier to say every time.

Jaskier melted against him with a sigh.

“I love you.”

He earned a kiss to his jaw.

“I love you.”

A kiss to the cheek.

“I love you.”

To the temple.

“I love you.”

To the forehead.

“I love you.”

His nose.

“I love you.”

His chin.

Jaskier pulled back again and gave him a look so filled with love that Geralt’s mouth went dry. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

He barely managed to get the words out before Geralt’s lips connected with his. Jaskier made a surprised sound, but quickly melted into Geralt with a contented sigh. One of Jaskier’s hands slid up to tangle with his hair and Geralt groaned against his lips. His own hands splayed against the expanse of Jaskier’s back and pulled him impossibly closer.

They kissed gently for long minutes before Geralt pulled up as it started to grow more and more heated. He wanted to bask in the soft moment awhile longer, if he was able, and Jaskier seemed to have no complaints. He simply rested his forehead against Geralt’s, smiling gently as they shared their breaths.

“How long?” Jaskier eventually asked, voice so soft that if Geralt wasn’t a witcher, he wasn’t sure he would’ve heard, even with their proximity to each other.

“I don’t know,” Geralt murmured truthfully. “How long has it been since you’ve noticed yourself aging?”

At that Jaskier actually pulled back, brow furrowing. His eyes darted around the room as he searched his own thoughts and Geralt waited patiently. It took a few minutes, but Jaskier finally cocked his head and squinted a little.

“Maybe early twenties? It’s hard to pinpoint, you know? You don’t change much as you start growing into adulthood.” Then he paused, turning a fake glare on Geralt (and he only knew it was fake because that honey-sweet smell wasn’t soured by anything rancid). “You mean to tell me we could’ve been doing this for decades already? Melitele’s tits Geralt, have you any clue how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?!”

Geralt smirked. “How long?” He rumbled, mostly teasing.

“Since the moment I saw you in that damn tavern in Posada.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“Granted, I fell in lust before I fell in love. I fell in infatuation with you later that day, during our little scuffle with the elves--”

“It wasn’t a scuffle, we were tied at their mercy--”

“But,” Jaskier continued, giving Geralt a pointed look and a flick to the chest for interrupting him, “I fell in love with you a little more slowly. It was the small things, really. I was totally gone on you before I was twenty, though.”

Geralt smiled again. “Good to know.”

“Now,” Jaskier said. “I’m beyond ready for every wonderful thing this new relationship status is going to bring, but let me tell you, the thing I want to do most right now is to hold you and be held with you and lazily makeout in bed for hours without it going anywhere. Possibly also nap together. And whisper sweet nothings.”

Geralt chuckled. “Is that so?”

He rose from his chair and Jaskier yelped and grabbed tighter around his neck. He giggled as Geralt helped him wrap his legs around Geralt’s hips and gave him another kiss on the cheek in return. Carrying him bridal-style was probably more romantic, but Geralt never claimed to be a romantic. He gripped Jaskier by his thighs and carried him back to his -- their -- temporary room tossing Jaskier on the bed.

Jaskier grinned as he bounced before shucking off his doublet and boots and crawling up to the pillows at the headboard. Geralt followed quickly after him, suddenly glad he hadn’t bothered making himself presentable because it would’ve just delayed him getting his hands and lips back on Jaskier.

The first thing Jaskier did was reach up and tug the leather band out of his hair, the parts he usually had pulled up falling loose to frame his face. Jaskier stuck his tongue out playfully as he shook Geralt's hair out, making it fluffy and fly-away. In revenge, Geralt scrubbed a hand against Jaskier’s hair and laughed at the yelp he produced at the treatment, shoving Geralt’s hand away.

And then Jaskier pulled him down to the bed and wrapped himself around his body. Geralt, in turn, wrapped himself tightly around Jaskier. They couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began, and it was perfect.

“It’s not fair how much I love you,” Jaskier murmured against his lips.

“How unreasonable,” Geralt teased.

And they kissed. And kissed again. And again, and again, and again, and Geralt was certain he would absolutely never get sick of kissing Jaskier, no matter how much he was bound to demand it.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #the witcher fanfic #geraskier fanfic #immortal jaskier #my writing #power of love series

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reading-writing-revolution · 3 years

Text

Heather Cox Richardson

December 29, 2020 (Tuesday)

There is definitely a feeling of change in the air. For all his continuing insistence that he won the 2020 election, Trump is a lame duck.

Today’s complicated fight in the Senate over the one-time stimulus payment of $2000 illustrated that Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY), not Trump, now controls the Republican caucus. Trump originally refused to sign the Consolidated Appropriations Act of 2021, the bill that contains the coronavirus relief measures, because he claimed he objected to its meager $600 stimulus payments. Six hundred dollars was the amount his negotiators had demanded, but he suddenly said he wanted them to be $2000. Democrats in the House jumped on Trump’s demand for the higher payment and they passed a measure on Monday to increase the payments.

Trump had attacked the bill largely because he is angry at McConnell and Senate Majority Whip John Thune (R-SD) (a whip keeps party members in line behind the party leader) for acknowledging Biden’s victory in November. He was trying to illustrate his power by refusing to sign the bill at all. But Sunday night he gave in without winning anything. Yet, he continued to say he wanted higher payments. The House was happy to give him what the Democrats had wanted all along; today, Trump lost the showdown in the Senate.

Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-NY) introduced the measure, but Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY) killed it. This enabled the two embattled Republican Senate candidates from Georgia both to support Trump and to claim they wanted higher payments, all without actually having to vote for the higher payments. McConnell bested Trump all around: he had no intention of raising those payments no matter what Trump tweeted... and he didn’t.

Trump’s influence in Washington is waning in other ways, too. Yesterday, the House repassed the National Defense Authorization Act over Trump’s veto. Trump claims to object to the bill for a number of reasons, including that it will require that military bases currently named for Confederate generals be renamed, but this is the measure into which Congress put the Corporate Transparency Act I wrote about a few days ago. It will undercut the country’s plague of so-called shell companies, which enable money laundering and other criminal activity because they are owned and operated in secret. The new measure will require that all owners and operators of such companies be clearly identified.

This will likely impact the Trump family, which uses shell companies.

There were other rumblings today that Trump’s post-presidential life might have some sticky places. The Manhattan District Attorney’s Office has hired forensic accountants to help investigate Trump and his businesses. This investigation is a criminal investigation. New York Attorney General Letitia James is in charge of a civil investigation into Trump’s businesses.

But the big thing which showed momentum is moving away from Trump is that President-Elect Joe Biden is forcefully criticizing the Trump administration for its failure to plan for distribution of the coronavirus vaccine.

With more than 330,000 Americans dead of Covid-19 and infections spiking, Biden today noted that the Trump administration has fallen behind on vaccine distribution. The effort got off to a poor start as the administration delivered fewer doses than it had promised and initially blamed Pfizer for a “miscommunication,” only to have Pfizer state that it had “millions of doses” in a warehouse but had received no information about where to send them.

The administration promised to vaccinate 20 million Americans by the end of December, but yesterday, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reported that it had administered just 2.1 million doses in two weeks, although that number is likely somewhat low because of lag times in reporting. At the current rate, Dr. Leana S. Wen writes in the Washington Post, we can expect to achieve herd immunity in 10 years.

The administration at first refused to share information with the Biden camp about distribution, claiming there was a plan, even though, when finally part of discussions in early December, Biden said “[t]here is no detailed plan that we've seen, anyway, as to how you get the vaccine out of a container, into an injection syringe, into somebody's arm.”

Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar responded that Biden’s claim was “nonsense.” “[W]e have comprehensive plans from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention working with 64 public health jurisdictions across the country as our governors have laid out very detailed plans that we’ve worked with them on. We’re leveraging our retail pharmacies, our hospitals, our public health departments, our community health centers.” Azar said the distribution process was being “micromanaged and controlled by the United States military, as well as our incredible private sector. We do hundreds of millions of vaccinations a year. We’re leveraging the systems that are known, and that work here in the United States." Azar assured Fox News Sunday host Chris Wallace that, as soon as the vaccines were approved, the government would be shipping them “to all of the states and territories that we work with. And within hours they can be vaccinating,”

It turns out Biden was more right than Azar. The administration planned simply to get the vaccines to the states, and then leave to them the problem of actually getting the vaccines into people’s arms. But state Departments of Health are strapped for money after trying to manage the pandemic for nine months, and had been allotted only $6 million apiece to make the distributions happen. (The new Consolidated Appropriations Act that Trump just signed has significantly more money in it for distribution.)

“The Trump administration’s plan to distribute vaccines is falling behind, far behind,” Biden said today. “As I long feared and warned, the effort to distribute and administer the vaccine is not progressing as it should.”

Finally stung, Trump tweeted tonight that “It is up to the States to distribute the vaccines once brought to the designated areas by the Federal Government. We have not only developed the vaccines, including putting up money to move the process along quickly, but gotten them to the states. Biden failed with Swine Flu!” (Biden was not in charge of the Obama Administration’s response to H1N1 in 2009, which broke out three months after Obama took office.)

Biden promised to invoke the National Defense Production Act, a law that permits the president to require companies to produce goods at the same time that it guarantees them a market for those goods, to speed up the production of supplies necessary to distribute the vaccine quickly. “I have directed my team to prepare a much more aggressive effort, with more federal involvement and leadership to get things back on track,” he said.

But he warned that we are behind and, breaking with the Trump administration, warned that things are going to get much worse before they get better. The spike in infections along with the fallout from holiday gatherings means we will see high case numbers in January and high death tolls in February. It will be mid-March, he warns, before we see improvement. “The next few weeks and months are going to be very tough, a very tough period for our nation — maybe the toughest during this entire pandemic,” Biden said. “I know it’s hard to hear, but it’s the truth.”

“We are going to get through this. Brighter days are coming,” Biden said. “But it’s going to take all of the grit and determination we have as Americans to get it done.”

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omgjasminesimone · 4 years

Text

Masters of Sex Part 2

Bryce x MC

Follow up to this story as part of my 500 followers follow ups celebration.

Word Count: 2500

A week after Bryce and Casey’s hate sex session, Casey is approached by the last person she wants to talk to in the hospital hallway.

“Hi, Dr. Valentine, right? Can I talk to you for a second?” The pretty hospital pharmacist who slept with Bryce several months ago, who Casey thought was basically her boyfriend at the time, asks.

Casey gestures at the lab results she’s going over. “I’m actually really busy.” Casey claims.

“It will really just take a second.” The other woman insists, smiling gently.

Casey resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Fine.” She says shortly.

“Would you like to talk in the cafeteria?”

“Here is fine.” Casey insists, tapping her foot impatiently.

The pharmacist, Kelly, according to her name tag sighs. “Okay then. I just wanted to apologize. I didn’t know you and Bryce had anything going on, I definitely wasn’t trying to step into an existing relationship.” Kelly says softly, keeping her voice low so the doctors, nurses, and patients passing through the halls don’t hear them.

“You can have him if you want. Me and Bryce are done.” Casey replies, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

“Really? That’s not what he said when I ran into him at the gym yesterday. He said you guys were going to try to work it out.” Kelly reports.

Casey rolls her eyes. Why would Bryce send this woman here to talk to her? Did he think this was going to help?

“Well, I guess he got his wires crossed, because we’re done. So, feel free to continue to sleep with him.” Casey insists. Casey turns on her heel and walks away before Kelly can respond. She’s fuming as she heads to the on-call room where she knows Bryce is likely napping between surgeries.

She opens the door, and there he is, asleep on the small cot. She closes the door loudly enough to wake him up.

Bryce starts as he wakes, reflexively checking his pager before he realizes that’s not what woke him up. His bleary eyes drift up to Casey. “What-” He starts, but Casey quickly interrupts.

“Why did you tell the pharmacist that we were trying to work it out?” Casey asks, tone harsh.

Bryce furrows his brow in confusion. “That’s not what I told her. I said I wanted to try to work it out.”

“Why would you even tell her anything in the first place? Did you want her to report back to me? Make me think that all of a sudden you’re going to act like you’re in a relationship?”

“Why would I have asked her to talk to you? It clearly just pissed you off.” Bryce retorts.

“Then, again, why did you tell her anything?” Casey repeats impatiently.

“Because, at the gym, she asked if I wanted to come by her place last night. And I told her no, and explained that you were mad at me for the last time I hooked up with her, even though we weren’t officially together, and then I said that I’m not sleeping with anybody else, because I want to work it out with you.” Bryce explains.

Casey leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Well, don’t deprive yourself on my account. I’m done Bryce. Sleep with whoever you want.”

“I only want you. And I’m going to prove it to you.” Bryce responds with resolve.

“What do you think you could possibly do to prove that?” Casey challenges.

“Well, step one is the celibacy. And then…. I’m still working on the other steps to get you back.” Bryce replies, smiling tentatively.

Casey rolls her eyes, turning towards the door. “Don’t hold your breath.”

“Mark my words Casey, I’m going to make you fall in love with me, again.” Bryce calls after her.

...

“What the hell is this?” Casey asks when she steps into her room a week later.

“Isn’t it romantic Casey? Bryce filled your room with roses!” Sienna exclaims, collapsing onto Casey’s bed, which has been covered in rose petals.

“Who let him in here?” Casey complains.

“Come on Case, the guy had $800 of roses in a wagon, I couldn’t turn him away.” Elijah claims.

Casey picks up a rose from one of the many bouquets on her floor. “What a waste of money, he should have given me a Visa gift card.”

“Jesus, your heart is ice cold.” Elijah replies, shaking his head.

“I told him this wasn’t going to work.” Jackie adds, moving a bouquet from Casey’s desk chair so she can sit.

“I don’t even like flowers. Shows how much he doesn’t even know me. What am I going to do with all of these?” Casey questions.

...

“Jackie told me you didn’t like the roses.” Bryce says, leaning against the desk as Casey uses the head nurse’s computer to look up her patient’s symptoms.

“You shouldn’t have wasted all that money.” Casey chastises.

Bryce shrugs. “I’m not worried about the money. I’m a surgeon after all.”

“A surgical intern.” Casey retorts.

“Same thing.”

“Very different salary.”

Bryce laughs at that, smiling at her. Casey quickly looks away. Damn him and that perfect smile.

“Did you throw them away?” Bryce asks, rising from his leaning position when he sees Dr. Avery coming down the hall. He’ll have to head off to assist with her hernia repair surgery soon.

“No, Sienna made them into potpourri balls. You know she’s crafty. Sold them at the farmer’s market. She made like $200.” Casey answers.

Bryce laughs again. “Did she split it with you?”

“Yep, $100 richer. But that could have been $800 if you’d just given me the cash.”

“But I’m not trying to buy you Valentine, I know you’re priceless” Bryce replies with a wink before walking away.

...

Casey wakes with a splitting headache in an unfamiliar bed two weeks later. She glances at her bed mate. Shit. It’s Henry Johnson. A psychology fellow from Edenbrook. She’d gone out to Donahue’s the night before, danced and flirted with Henry, and when she was drunk enough, went home with him.

She vaguely remembers the sex. Unremarkable. Nothing like with Bryce.

Double shit, Casey thinks as she sits up, looking out the window. Of course, Henry has to live in the same apartment complex as Bryce.

It’s not that much of a surprise, a lot of the hospital staff live here because they heavily advertise at the hospital and offer a slight discount. But it’s bad luck none the less.

Casey checks Henry’s clock. 8:10 AM. Bryce should probably still be at the gym from his morning workout. She’ll just sneak out really quick, and not even have to see him.

Casey slips out from under Henry’s arm, sliding back into her dress from last night. She catches her reflection in Henry’s bathroom mirror. Make-up from last night still on and smudged, her curls looking a mess. She sighs, preparing herself for her walk of shame.

She gets into the elevator, glad to see no one else in it. She impatiently presses the button for the lobby. But the elevator stops on the 10th floor, and of course Bryce Lahela is standing there.

He seems surprised to see her, but quickly schools his expression as he steps into the elevator.

Casey can’t believe her bad luck.

“Long night?” Bryce asks. He tries to say it with levity, but there’s underlying jealousy and anger there. Casey rolls her eyes.

“I don’t owe you anything. We’re not together. I can sleep with whoever I want.”

“I never said you couldn’t.” Bryce responds, somewhat testy. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. “What kind of pie do you like?”

Casey looks at him incredulously as the elevator reaches the lobby. “Pie?”

Bryce nods. “I’m baking you a pie today. That’s step 3. The way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach.”

Casey walks out of the elevator, heading for the T stop. Bryce follows. “Why are you doing this? I told you we’re done. Maybe one day we can be friends again. But as far as a relationship goes, I’ve clearly moved on.” Casey gestures to her outfit from last night.

“If it was any good, you wouldn’t be sneaking out of his apartment at 8 in the morning.” Bryce insists. Casey can’t really argue that point, so Bryce continues. “We’re good together Casey, and I’m going to prove it to you.”

Casey ignores that, splitting off from Bryce to head up the street. “I don’t like pie!” She calls over her shoulder.

“Liar, everyone likes pie!” Bryce shouts back.

...

The next day, Casey walks into the kitchen after her shift and finds her roommates all eating cherry pie around the kitchen table.

“Bryce brought it over a little bit ago.” Sienna informs Casey as she pulls up a chair.

Jackie cuts Casey a slice, handing it over.

Casey chews thoughtfully.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Elijah questions.

“Hmmm...It’s not bad, but not amazing either.” Casey decides.

“Come on Casey, you can tell he worked so hard on this. Don’t you see the indentations in the crust?!” Sienna presses.

Casey shrugs, taking another bite. “He shouldn’t quit his day job.”

...

3 weeks later, Casey comes down with a nasty, highly contagious bug. She doesn’t want to infect her roommates, so she checks herself into a hotel south of Boston. She’s absolutely miserable, and pretty sure that she’s dying. She’s almost fallen into a fitful sleep when she feels a hand pressed against her feverish forehead.

“Ahh!” She screams, rolling away and fighting to get from under the twisted covers.

“Casey! It’s just me!” Bryce reveals, hands raised in a non-threatening manner.

“What the hell Bryce? What are you doing here?” Casey asks when her heart rate has slowed down.

“I heard you were sick.” He replies simply.

“How’d you even get in here?”

“Hotel concierges don’t ask a lot of questions when you just say, hey, I’d like an extra key to this room please, Casey Valentine’s.” Bryce answers.

“That’s terrifying.” Casey mutters.

“Well, in her defense, I look extremely non-threatening.” Bryce insists.

Casey rolls her eyes. “Why are you here though? I’m in this hotel quarantining myself so I don’t get anyone else sick.”

Bryce waves off her concerns. “I have an extremely strong immune system. Haven’t been sick in like 15 years. So, I came to take care of you.” Bryce reaches to the nightstand. “Here, take these.” He hands her some medicine. “And drink this.” Some Gatorade.

Bryce gets up from the bed, moving over to the couch and opening a textbook he pulls from his backpack. “Now get some rest. When you wake up, I’ll make you some soup.” Bryce instructs.

“You really don’t have to do this.” Casey insists, eyes drooping from the sheer exhaustion of being so sick.

“I want to. Sweet dreams Casey.”

...

3 days later, Casey has recovered. And she hears from one of the surgical interns that Bryce is sick. She knocks on the door of his apartment. It takes him a while to answer the door, wrapped in a blanket and looking absolutely miserable. His expression immediately brightens when he sees her though. “Casey! What a pleasant surprise!” He greets, stepping aside so she can come in.

Casey can’t help but give him an ‘I told you so look. “So, I guess your super immune system failed you?”

“This is some bug you caught Casey. Takes a lot to take me down.” Bryce insists, slowly lowering himself back onto his couch.

“Have you eaten anything?” Casey questions.

“I can’t keep anything down.”

“I know, but you have to eat something anyway.” Casey insists, pulling some warm vegetable broth soup from her shopping bag. “I also brought medicine, and fluids.” She reveals, sitting beside him and handing him the soup.

“.... Did you think this would be the circumstances that would get you back to my apartment?” Bryce asks, chuckling weakly, but that quickly turns into a rumbling cough.

“I had thought the only thing that could get me back here is more hate sex, but I owe you one.” Casey quips.

Bryce laughs, taking a few small spoonfuls of the soup. He sets the soup to the side, leaning down to rest his head in Casey’s lap. Even she doesn’t have the heart to shoo him away when he’s so sick, especially when he’s sick because he took care of her.

“Sweet dreams Bryce.” She murmurs as he falls asleep. She turns the TV on mute, watching it with subtitles.

…

A few weeks later, Casey collapses to the floor of the supply closet as soon as she closes the door, tears wracking her small frame. She can’t believe she lost her. She ran so many tests, desperate to find why the young girl’s cell counts were so low. But she ran out of time, the child dying while Casey held her hand.

She knows who it is when the door opens, her suspicions confirmed when he gets onto the floor beside her and gathers her into his strong arms. She cries into Bryce’s chest, clinging to him desperately.

“Shh…. what’s wrong?” Bryce tries to comfort when her sobs show no sign of subsiding.

Casey just shakes her head, hugging him tighter as she continues to cry. Eventually, she’s all cried out. And then she tells Bryce about losing her patient.

Bryce wipes her tears away with his calloused thumbs, smiling sadly at her. “Do you want to know what I do when I lose a patient?” He questions.

Casey nods weakly, and Bryce stands, pulling her to her feet as well. He takes her hand, and gently leads her out of the supply closet, into the stairwell, and then up to the 6th floor. He walks her though the hallway and stops in front of the window of the nursery.

Casey looks at the newborn babies, all different shades and sizes. She can’t help but smile when she gazes at them, all bundled up in blue and pink hospital gear.

Bryce steps up to her back, speaking quietly behind her. “When I come up here, it reminds me that life goes on. It’s horrible to lose a patient, especially a young one, but you have to remember that you did all you could. And you’ll learn from this. And hopefully be able to save the next one. There’s always a chance to start over new Casey.” Bryce concludes.

Casey leans back into Bryce’s embrace, observing the room full of new beginnings.

…

After thinking long and hard about it, 4 days later Casey sends a text.

Casey Valentine: Do you want to get dinner? So we can talk about starting over new?

Bryce replies seconds later.

Bryce Lahela: Name the time and place, I’m there.

Tags: @octobereighth @akrenich @lovehugsandcandy @regina-and-happiness @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicesarehard @lizeboredom @desiree-0816 @hellooliviaolivia @dreaming-of-movies @friedherringclodthing @weaving-in-words @fairydustandsarcasm @goldenjellyfish12 @pessimystic-fangirl @mimikoasahina @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl @god-save-the-keen @caroldxnvxrs @cora-nova @emceesynonymroll @choicesgremlin @anxious-arliah @cordoniasmost @lahelable @ohsnapitzlovehacker @pixeljazzy @blk-girl-emoji

#bryce x mc #bryce lahela x mc #choices fanfiction #500 followers follow ups #open heart

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sinagrace · 4 years

Photo

This summer marks the tenth anniversary since the announcement of The Walking Dead creator Robert Kirkman’s Skybound imprint at Image Comics, and today is eight years since I left the company as its Editorial Director. I had no intention of waxing nostalgic or posting about this fun and weird chapter of my life, but I’ve been cooped up in an apartment watching my dog as he recovers from surgery… so I’ve got nothing better to do than look at old pictures and post on social media. Being a comic book editor is not an easy job at all. Most folks think it just means emailing people about deadlines and checking for spelling errors, but there’s so much more that goes into the job, especially when you’re working in the field of creator-owned comics. The list of responsibilities is absolutely boring to recount, but I’ll just say that for as mind numbing or menial the tasks may seem, the consequences of going on autopilot and not double checking everyone’s work can lead to catastrophic printing errors with all the blame set on who??? The editor. What’s funny is that I didn’t necessarily want the job. I was really content working part-time on Rodeo Drive and growing my illustration portfolio (I’d been doing the Li’l Depressed Boy with Mx Struble and had finished illustrating a Middle Grade book for Amber Benson at Simon and Schuster). The opportunity to work full-time in comics and learn under a guy as respected as Robert appealed to me. Of his books, I was a fan of Invincible, and more to the point: I really appreciated his brazen defense of creator-owned comics in a Big Two market. Politically, I felt okay giving so much of my life to his journey. At one point in the interview process, Robert asked me if I was familiar with him and his work. My answer was sincere: “I’ve read some of your stuff. I respect you, but I’d never wait in line to meet you.” When I got the job offer, I was still on the fence. My friend Tyler always reminds me that he basically told me to just take the job and decide whether I liked it after I was there. He pointed out that the first ninety days are a mutual trial period for employee and employer. It would totally be fair for me to say in the first three months that the job wasn’t right for me. I’m glad that I listened to his advice, because being present for The Walking Dead’s ascension from beloved bestselling comic book to actual factual international phenomenon was an experience that I deeply treasure and will never have access to for the rest of my life. Even though my main duties were about the comics, I found myself getting tipsy at award show after parties, handling business affairs in talk show green rooms, sitting in development meetings with video game creators, picking up props from creature design workshops, and- the most bizarre scenario of them all- driving my tiny car around big rigs to drop off a pallet of merch at a shipping yard in the South Bay. My first year at Skybound was absolutely crazy, and getting my friend Shawn in the position of Director of Business Development was all too necessary at that point. Between the show’s success and the launch of a handful of original comics, my responsibilities grew to include foreign licensing, copyright filing, convention planning, editing the collected editions, liaising with collaborative partners, and the occasional bit of merchandise design. It was a lot to handle, and I look back fondly on the late nights when Shawn and I would walk down to Pinches for dinner, devouring burritos and chips before putting more hours at the office. We formed intense bonds with the production folks at Image Comics who were putting in the same hours at the Berkeley office. The stress and hard work was always worth it when you’d pull off a miracle like shipping Walking Dead every three weeks on time for a 100th issue to come out at Comic-Con with a smattering of variant covers- including a chromium cover that required multiple printers and so much advance planning. (As I’m typing this, I also am remembering that I was still drawing The Li’l Depressed Boy and working on my graphic novel Not My Bag on the side. Considering I hadn’t done any drugs at that point, I have no clue how I did all of that and still found time to sleep.) Being an editor is a pretty intense grind, and if you’re not a career editor, then the eventual burnout will hit super hard. I loved my job, and I loved the artists Robert chose to work with… for the most part, they were all kind and hardworking folks dedicated to the craft. I met one of my best friends on the job, and I was able to bring in my favorite people along for conventions across the continent. There were extraordinary highs, but the gig was taking a toll on me. I was answering work emails in Texas on Mx. Struble’s wedding day. I worked six out of the seven days I was in France for my sister’s wedding, and still got yelled at for something going wrong. How do you delegate instincts to someone? “Double check the file size because sometimes so-and-so will scan things wonky,” or “zoom in at 300% because the clipping path will look fine in the preview image but the sword is actually creeping into the logo.” I was starting to mess up, and after a point, it became clear that I needed to transition as a full-time writer and illustrator. It’s eight years later, and I’m still so very happy that I took the job. I may have pulled a lot of hair out, but I learned so much about storytelling and the business of making comics from one of the most iconic guys in the business. I always let my editors know how much compassion I have for the work they have to do, and try to never add problems to their already busy days. Some production designers may still hate me, because I learned all the tricks in terms of how late you can push something at the printer… but I’m getting better, I promise!! I know how valuable it is to connect with local retailers and with readers, because they’re all coming from a place of just loving comic books so darn much, and they’re the ones doing the major work in helping build successful titles. Skybound is now a decade old and has a staff of over fifty or sixty individuals pushing the brand to new and exciting places. Robert is still someone I admire for how hard he tries to inject vitality into the direct market. I *still* get people coming up to me saying that they thought I was a girl because of my name in the Walking Dead letters column. For as crazy as the freelance creator lifestyle has been the last eight years, I wouldn’t change it for the world. It’s been scary, and sometimes hand-to-mouth, but I’d never have had the bandwidth to take on all the opportunities that started coming in recent years if I was still an editor, and I wouldn’t have been as great an advocate for myself in business dealings if i hadn’t learned from Robert. HBD Skybound. X.

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