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sunwoo-hoo · 3 years

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↣ the boyz reaction to s/o being shy /insecure

↳ a/n: hello my darlings! we’re back with another reaction for tbz. this was requested by hanagkskgks. i’m so sorry for the wait! i hope you enjoy it. also, these reactions are canon to my as your boyfriend series! so i highly recommend reading those as well! please, if your under the age of 18 do not interact with the post. PS. all bodies are beautiful and you should never feel ashamed for being who you are. x o x o

↳ genre: flufffyyy + smutttyyy

↳ warnings: stretch marks, pubic hair, dieting, reader with body insecurities

↳ requested? yes

↳ send me your requests here!

↳ word count: 2.8k what the actual fuck these are mini drabbles at this point

↳ the boyz x fem reader

「 Lee Sangyeon 」

you had only been dating for 3 months when you finally had sex with sangyeon for the first time

you had just walked through the dorms from another great date together after spending some much needed quality time

“where is everyone?” you asked looking around the living room area not hearing the laughter and bickering like you usually did

“the guys all went to get some dinner together, it’ll just be us for a couple of hours.. is that okay?” he responded

you were nervous to say the least, of course you and sangyeon have kissed many times, even made out but it never lasted longer than 10 minutes because the other members were around and you didn’t want to risk getting caught.

in this moment it all started to feel very real, were you ready? could fully give yourself to sangyeon? yes, you loved him, tonight was going to be the night.

“it’s perfect” you whispered walking up to him wrapping your arms around his neck giving him a kiss on the lips.

as you broke apart he smiled at you “baby we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. i want you to be comfortable” he observed

“no.. i want too. sangyeon i love you. i want this” you whispered he smiled as he grabbed your jawline tilting your head to give you another kiss.

before you knew it you were in sangyeon’s room, him on top of you kissing your neck making his way down to your breast. he was about to pull off your shirt when you stopped him

“wait.. i-i’m nervous for you to see all of me..” you mumbled

his eyes soften at you “you don’t have to be baby, your absolutely perfect in my eyes. nothing is going to change that” he promised

when he finally took of your shirt he looked deeply in your eyes “you’re so beautiful” he whispered bending down to give you an eletricfying kiss before the long night ahead.

「 Jacob Bae 」

sex was a new thing for you and jacob. having losing your virginity to each other you were still pretty nervous when it came to your body.

while jacob was more comfortable with his you still hadn’t quite matched his level even though to him you didn’t have a single flaw.

as you both were laying in bed watching t.v he started to trail long spicy kisses along the side of your neck making his down to your collarbone. you gently pushed him away

“jacob i’m sorry.. it’s not that i don’t want to it’s just that i don’t feel pretty” you mumbled not looking at his face

in retrospect it sounded ridiculous coming out of your mouth but you just couldn’t help the way you felt

he gave you a shock expression before he lightly grabbed your face to make you look at him

“baby, how can you say something like that? you’re beautiful in every way. in fact your way out of my league.” he reassured you grabbing your hand kissing the back of it

you smiled at his words as he continued

“you have nothing to feel embarrassed about, i love everything about you. don’t ever forget that okay?” he said giving you a temple kiss

you leaned into his touch pulling him close so that you could continue to cuddle together.

「 Kim Younghoon 」

you were both equally shy when it came to showing your bodies for the first time to each other.

there you were naked on the bed while younghoon was hovering over you.

you quickly covered your chest and closed your legs shut trying to cover as much as you could

“a-aren’t you gonna say anything?” you whispered not looking into his eyes out of nervousness

“you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen in my life” he said turning your head to give you a passionate kiss

it was at the moment where all your troubles went away it wasn’t about your body not being good enough for younghoon

it was about the way he saw you and how you were everything he could possibly ask for

moving your hands away from your breast your arms made it’s way to his neck as you spread opened your legs

he gently aligned himself in your entrance slowly pushing his cock deep inside your pussy as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

「 Lee Hyunjae 」

you and hyunjae were on vlive when it all happend

your relationship had been public for six months even though you were technically together for over a year

for the most part deobi’s were happy for you and hyunjae but you couldn’t deny the negative comments you would see from time to time about not being pretty enough or good enough for him

at first you chose to ignore them but as time went on it started to drag you down mentally and emotionally and hyunjae started to take notice

during the vlive when deobi’s started to ask questions about your relationship you quickly saw the comment that read ‘hyunjae break up with [name] i’m so much better looking’

after of a couple of minutes you swiftly pulled hyunjae out of camera shot and quietly told him that you wanted to end the vlive

at first he looked at you confused until you told him what you had read

appearing back on the camera by himself he told deobi’s “deobi i want you to know that i’m extremely happy with [name] it always amazes me on how beautiful she is. of course deobi’s your beautiful as well but let’s all say how gorgeous [name] looks today.

soon enough comments were rolling in about how amazing you two looked together and how everyone was rooting for you two, giving you well wishes

you scooted your chair back in the camera view and bowed your head deeply in graditude telling deobi’s thank you as hyunjae laced his fingers into yours holding on tightly

「 Lee Juyeon 」

it was one of those weeks, everything was one big blur and you didn’t have time to do your personal self care like you usually did

it all happend during one night when you were getting ready for bed with juyeon when he decided that he wanted to have a little fun before sleeping

his hands stared to caress the side of your thighs making his way up to your hips as you were finishing your skincare routine in the bathroom

“juyeon… i don’t think it’s a great time to do that right now.” you whimpered as he was trailing hot kisses along your shoulder blade making his way to your neck from behind you

“hmm? why not? baby you look so gorgeous tonight you know i can’t resist you” he whispered against your ear “especially when your wear this..”

looking at yourself in the mirror you silently cursed at yourself when you decided to put on your lacy black night gown for the night

“it’s not that it’s just… this week has been so hectic i didn’t get a chance to shave.. you know..” you mumbled covering your face with your hands out of embarrassment

he gently turned you around so that you could face him

“baby you know i don’t care about that, you’re beautiful either way” he smirked as he picked you up placing you on the bathroom counter

he gently pulled down your panties kissing your inner thighs in the process making his way up to your core

it all happend so fast your brain couldn’t even register what happend in that swift moment until you felt juyeon’s tongue on your clit licking it lightly, obviously teasing you.

you moaned trying to reach for anything to grab until your hands found it’s way to juyeon’s hair pulling tightly as you started to feel your first orgasm of the night built up

「 Kevin Moon 」

you couldn’t believe it but it was right there in front of your eyes. as you were changing you couldn’t help but see the noticeable stretch marks that made an appearance in your inner thighs

you were all for body positivity but you couldn’t deny the fact that you felt a little insecure about the new additions to your body

as first you chose to ignore them pretending that they weren’t even there, when you started to wear more jeans and pants kevin started to take notice and become suspicious but he wasn’t sure what it was

one night when you and kevin were about to have sex is when he found out about your little secret

“kevin.. do you think that maybe we can turn off the lights tonight?” you asked

he looked at you confused it was an odd request considering you two would always have the light on when you had sex

“why babe? is something wrong?” he responded

“no nothing! or maybe it’s something! i don’t know.. just look” you rambled as you removed your blanket to show him your thighs

as kevin leaned closer to take a better look he smiled as he looked up at you

“is that it? their just stretch marks babe it’s no big deal, in fact i think it’s super cute it makes you look like a tiger” he said proudly tracing his fingers along them gently kissing the lines

you smiled looking down at kevin realizing you made a big deal out of nothing. regardless of any flaw you thought you had you always knew kevin would always have a way to make you feel irresistible

「 Choi Chanhee 」

it all started from a doctor’s visit you were just having a regular checkup when the doctor decided that he wanted to measure your height and weight

when he told you had gain a couple of pounds you were a bit confused, you didn’t look any different, to you your body was as healthy as it could be

nevertheless you decided to go on a diet and chanhee quickly took notice when you started to skip a lot of meals

“love, why haven’t you been eating?” he wondered after another afternoon when you decided to skip lunch a third time this week

“oh well… i went to the doctor and they told me that i needed to lose some weight” you mumbled

chanhee gave you a confused look before responding “that’s ridiculous! there’s nothing wrong with your body! and even if you did gain weight your cheeks would just be more cuter to squish” he nearly shouted

calming himself down he continued “love, you don’t need to lose anything i love you just the way you are. promise me you won’t skip anymore meals?” he pleaded grabbing your hand

you smiled and nodded giving him a cheek kiss “i promise” you replied

「 Ji Changmin/Q 」

you loved everything about changmin to his smile, the way he made you feel, his charisma, even his high pitched dolphin screams you would hear on occasion. he was perfect in every way

you on the other hand sometimes felt a slight sense of insecurity being with changmin, your skin wasn’t always the clearest, your body wasn’t always the skinnest, hell sometimes you thought you were too short or too tall for him

you always thought idols dated models or actresses you were just a regular girl. why would changmin like you in the first place?

changmin took notice immediately when your personality start to shift after going public with your relationship

he decided to finally talk to you about it one night before going to bed

“sweetheart what’s wrong? ever since we’ve became public with our relationship i noticed you haven’t been the same. is everything okay?” he asked as he was playing with your fingers

sighing you hesistated before finally coming clean “it’s nothing it’s just… why are you with me q? there’s so much more prettier girls that you can easily have. i’m not good enough for you” you whispered tearing up finally breaking down after it being bottled up for so long

changmin let out a gasp covering his mouth before he answered you “[name]… i never want to hear you speaking like this about yourself ever again. i love you regardless of how you look, to me your perfect” he reassured grabbing your arm as he pulled you close to his chest giving you a head kiss

you nodded as changmin lifted your jaw and wiped your tears away from your face and leaned close giving you a soft kiss

「 Juhaknyeon 」

when it came to your body juhaknyeon had no problem praising it making you feel special 24/7

you had manage to keep it a secret until he finally saw it the one insecurity that you hated the most about yourself

when you were in high school you had gotten a permanent scar on your stomach from a car accident

over the years it eventually faded but it was still noticeable if you stared at your stomach long enough

you and juhakyeon were both getting undressed getting ready to shower together when he finally saw your scar

“hey baby what is that?” he pointed to your stomach noticing the small yet faded white scar on your abdomen

you quickly turned around covering your scar feeling embarrassed

“it’s nothing! i don’t know what your talking about” you stammered

“c’mon baby let me see” he asked as you hesitantly turned around removing your hands

“aww babe it’s just a scar, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about i have some as well” he told you as he showed you his faded scars from past dance practices

he continued “it just makes you that much more unique and beautiful”

「 Kim Sunwoo 」

one thing you always loved about sunwoo was that he was not afraid to show others how he felt especially when it came to you

he had no problem giving you kisses and holding your hand in public even though sometimes you had to remind him to behave

you were both visiting your parents when your shyness got the better of you

your parents loved sunwoo to the point where they would call you and ask about him first seeing if he was okay or if he needed anything to sunwoo they were his second parents

it was a nice sunny day when your parents decided to have a BBQ lunch for the 4 of you and sunwoo couldn’t keep his hands off you as he was behind you grabbing your waist pulling you close answering your parents questions

“how are you treating my daughter these days sunwoo?” your dad asked

“like a princess sir, she deserves nothing but the best” he answered truthfully giving you a small kiss on the cheek

“that’s wonderful! that’s what we love to hear” your mother smiled brightly enjoying the small interaction between the two of you

when your parents went inside the house to get the plates and utensils you decide now was the chance to talk to sunwoo

“sunwoo i love you but we’re at my parents house I’m a little shy when your touching me in front of them like that…” you mumbled

you knew your parents didn’t mind the loving interaction between you and sunwoo but you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed and shy about the whole ordeal

“oh… i’m sorry baby i didn’t know i just wanted to show them how deeply in love I am with their daughter” he answered putting his hands in his pockets

you smiled up at him and leaned in to give him a passionate yet inviting kiss sunwoo instantly slid his hands behind your neck deepening the kiss

before the kiss got too heated you pulled apart and replied “they’ll be more of that later if you tone it done a little okay?”

he gave you a smile and winked “you can count on it”

「 Eric Sohn 」

being best friends with eric before you got into a relationship was one of the best decisions you could ever make

he already knew everything about you, what you liked, what you hated, what your favorite color was, what you loved to eat, etc.

you loved that there was no awkwardness between you two, or so you thought.

when you finally decided to have sex for the first time after a month of dating you were extremely nervous. you knew eric for most of your life.

sure, he’d seen you in a bathing suit plenty of times but you were still partially clothed, it was at this moment when it hit you that he was about to see everything

as eric was about to pull down your shorts you hesitantly stopped him

“eric wait, what if... what if you don’t find me attractive?” you shakily said

he stopped and hovered over you before he answered “[name] i’ve loved you ever since we were kids, you are the most important person in my life. i’m always going to find you beautiful, you mean the world to me” he vowed

in that moment you felt your cheeks become wet from the hushed tears that fell

eric wiped your tears away with his thumb before leaning down giving you a kiss full of love

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* © sunwoo-hoo 2 0 2 1 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

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vv3nti · 3 years

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liar — t. oikawa & h. iwaizumi

synopsis—a love triangle of unrequited love

warnings—angst , unrequited love , break-up , some aspects based off american high school , there may be a little ooc i'm still learning to writing the hq boys sorry :/

a/n—this is a one-shot i wrote i'm hoping to make into a series- i've started part two so that's promised if not a series, send an ask or wtv to be tagged for that <3

“I’m tired of hiding, Tooru. I’m tired of being kept a secret.” You said softly, twirling the necklace around your neck between two fingers. The weight of this relationship finally lifting off your shoulders, but that didn’t stop the inevitable thump growing in your throat. You love Oikawa, you really do, but you can’t keep going like this. Your heart won’t allow it. You want someone proud to show you off and cherish you with all they have. Maybe, your expectations were too high from the beginning; if you had set the bar lower, this all could have been avoided. Or if Oikawa truly cared for you, loved you as he said he did. Whatever the reason, the dull ache was too much to bear. “I can’t do this anymore; it hurts too much.”

Oikawa had not expected those words to leave your plush lips. No, he thought you’d complain again, he’d kiss it better, and you would forget about it, like usual. But this—this was the last thing he wanted to hear. You were happy; he was sure of it. What the hell provoked you to feel like this? “What do you mean? We agreed we would wait.”

“Yeah, months ago.” You wave your hand through the air. You had no intention of allowing the boy to dismiss your concerns, not again. “And every time I mention it, you disregard my feelings like they don’t matter.”

His eyebrows furrowed, a clear frown set on his face. “Of course, your feelings matter to me.”

“If that were true, we wouldn’t be in this situation.” Anxiety started creeping up your spine, a deep shiver demersing. You couldn’t help but feel off-put; if you didn’t end the conversation fast, you knew you’d slip back in his clutches. “Please, don’t make this any harder than it has to be. No one even knew we were together; that means things can go back to normal.”

“Normal?” He mumbled, eyes downcast to the floor. “What does that even mean? Nevermind that—is this about my fangirls? Because I can tell them to back off. Or Mei? Did she say something to you.” Oikawa’s calm demeanor began to wear off, and panic soon set it. The perfect picture he had planted in his head was decaying within the second, and he couldn’t manage the thought. He couldn’t even see the harsh reality behind his imagination; nothing about your relationship was ideal. Oikawa pushed you too far off the deep end, and as he tried to meet his own needs, he neglected yours.

His hands reached out to you, afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t get ahold of you soon.

The mention of his ex stung a little more than it should. But what are you supposed to feel? Tooru was publicly dating her for a lot longer than you've been together and you felt inferior to her in so many ways. They didn't break up on bad terms and you can't help but wonder if he still has feelings for her—it would justify his need to keep you a secret. “No! I’m done, I’m done with this, Tooru. This how couples are supposed to act; I don’t want to act like this. I’m sorry, but I can’t keep doing this. I need time, a break, anything but this.”

That night you both went home with a gaping hole in your chest and beds a little colder than before. Uncertainty crept in; was this a temporary break or a breakup. Neither of you had the answer.

You spent the first day of the long weekend cooped in your room, fresh tear streaks following the tracks on the old. On Sunday, you had to head to the school to decorate lockers for senior night or week in Sejohs case; the volleyball team had games on Tuesday and Friday this week. Luckily your appointed third year was Iwaizumi, so you didn’t have to trouble over an awkward encounter with Oikawa. Monday consisted of endless baking; it was safe to say you went slightly overboard. Assortments of brownies, cupcakes, mini cheesecakes, and peach cobbler aligned the countertops. One might say you’re a stress baker.

On the contrary, Oikawa spent his weekend hounding down on his team with tiring drills and repetitive rotations. His temper was short, and his attitude anything but playful. None of the club members wanted to be the one to confront their captain, leaving him alone in his thoughts—thoughts about you. At night he got little to no sleep, spending his sleepless nights replaying all his wrongs as if the answer will all of a sudden appear. But how is Oikawa supposed to fix a problem he didn’t even know what there.

Tuesday rolled around faster than anyone could have expected. You sat restlessly in the clubroom, waiting for Iwaizumi to meet you there. You requested him to join you in the room, considering you didn’t walk to school with him and Oikawa as you usually would. Regardless of where you interacted, you knew Iwa had many questions, and you’d preferably be interrogated in private than in front of the entire student body.

Iwa rushed into the room, school bag around his shoulder and one of his jerseys flailing in his hand. “Hey,” He spoke, his usually irritated tone nowhere to be heard. Upon seeing him, scorching anxiety rose in your chest. Deep breaths, Y/N, deep breaths. “I brought this.”

“Iwa, hi,” You chirped, hopping on the tabletop and embracing your friend—holding on a little tighter than usual. Despite your constant mantra of ‘I’m fine,’ you did long for some form of comfort. “Yes, right, thank you. Just set in on my bag. I want to show you what I made.” You dragged the boy by his hand to the table occupying your tasty treats. You figured he could share the desserts with the rest of the team once they won tonight. The hopeful look on your face slightly dropped. Iwa didn’t look as excited as you hoped for. Instead, he looked deep in thought, like something was bothering him.

“What’s going on?” He questioned quietly, finally meeting your puzzled eyes. “Come on, Y/N, you cook when you’re upset. Anyone who’s known you for more than a year knows that.”

Mouth ajar and eyes wide, you searched for an excuse to preach to Iwaizumi—although you know your attempts will be futile. Since you were in elementary school, you’ve grown up the boy and had no doubt he would read you like an open book. And if not you, then most definitely Oikawa. “Nothings going on; I just wanted you to have an array of options. Is that so bad? You could be a little more thankful, you know.”

“Of course, I’m thankful for all of this. But I’m going to find it a little concerning when Shittykawa is as quiet as a mouse, and you’ve got bags under your eyes from what? The hours you spent baking through the night?.” Iwa uttered, raising his voice a bit.

Unfortunately, that only further pushed you to the defensive stature. You wished he’d just leave it, shove it under a rug as you did this weekend. “Not everything I do involves Oikawa! If he’s acting weird, then you can ask him about that instead of undermining what I did for you!” You frantically grabbed your bag off the ground, planning to leave the room. “If you didn’t like it, you could have said thanks and thrown it away—”

“Hey, Hey,” A tight grip encloses around your bicep, halting your departure. “I’m sorry, I really like everything you did for me, you know cheesecake is my favorite. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry.” Iwaizumi’s grip doesn’t falter, even as your teary eyes meet his own.

The lump grew in your throat as you fought back the waterworks. “We broke up, or I broke up with him, I guess. Can you even break up with someone who didn’t want you in the first place?” You said, through a broken sob. Iwa doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you with the same pitiful look you’ve seen a thousand times. His free hand moved to the side of your face, patting your hair a few times before he pushed your head into his chest. Words wouldn’t provide you with the support you needed, so Iwa simply let you cry in his embrace—secretly plotting all the ways he wanted to beat Oikawa’s ass.

He didn’t need to ask. He knew all the reasons why this happened. Hell, Hajime had seen the foreseeable future unravel when Oikawa presented your relationship.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be such a downer on game day.” You lifted your head, lightly brushing your palms along his uniform, waiting for your tears to dry. The door to the clubroom snapped open, hitting the opposing wall, prompting you and Iwa to rush apart. The look on the face read shocked, more towards the fact you didn’t need the club questioning why you were crying this early in the morning. But the brunette boy in front of you idly took a long, deep breath encouraging you to do the same.

“Oh, are we interrupting something?”

“Just Iwa and his not-girlfriend, what’s new?” Mattsun and Makki seemed to be having a good morning, and not even Iawizumi could shake them out of the teasing moods. Despite their playful banter, you couldn’t help but focus on the silent set of eyes following your movements, and something about his silence was off-putting.

You turned to the two, a sly smile planted on your lips. “I’m not even indulging,” Fake it til’ you make it. “But I did make a small arsenal of desserts, so help yourself-”

“If I decide to share with these idiots.”

“Help yourself-if Iwa chooses to so graciously gift you the pleasure.” You said sweetly, playfully bowing as Mattsun and Makki rolled their eyes. “I have to go to class, so enjoy, and good luck.”

“Here I got it.” Iwa offered, plucking your bag from the floor with a small smile. The kind gesture made your heart flutter, your mood beginning to lift simultaneously. Ever since you were little, Iwaizumi always seemed to know what you needed to feel better, almost like an institution. Maybe that’s why his tone was short and sharp when he told Oikawa to move away from the door as you tried to leave, you’re used to his cold demeanor, but it was unsettling. You didn’t want him to be this angry with his best friend because of you, although it was a little awarding.

Oikawa’s lips laid ajar, fumbling his thoughts to form a reasonable enough sentence. He wanted to say something astounding to you, something that gave you no choice but to come back to him. He planned it all day yesterday, but now as you hide behind Iwa, he drew a blank.

“I’m serious, Oikawa. Move.”

Oikawa hung his head in shame, shuffling to the side, allowing you and Iwa to exit the room. The overwhelming feeling of patheticness climbing his veins. He didn’t mind his best friend’s anger towards him, but this wasn’t rage. Iwaizumi was disappointed, and Tooru couldn’t shake his glare.

Practice was usually a time the boys could assert their worries into energy, but the thick tension left everyone unsettled. Today’s warmup was eerily different.

Tooru watched you bounce in and out of the gym with the rest of the cheer squad; Iwa’s jersey adorned your figure. His expression held that of a kicked puppy, and it was pissing off the rest of the team. They needed their captain in his best frame of mind if they wanted to win.

Hajime’s humorless laugh broke the silence. “I warned you, you know.” Oikawa shifted his attention. “I told you you’d only hurt her, and you continued reassuring me you wouldn't, time after fucking time. And...there was a time I believed you, but you’re a liar, and Y/N sees it too.”

Oikawa’s sadness morphed into anger, eyes twitching as he bit the inside of his cheek. “If I’m a liar, that makes you one too.” He sneered, eyes still downcast on the court. His emotions were on overdrive, plucking and pinching in his mind. Oikawa knew he should resort to this method of release, but he was losing all control.

The ace sucked in a sharp breath, eye blazing. “Yea, well, I can live with that. Can you?”

Coach cut the conversation short, asking why the boys weren’t warming up before the game. The captain and ace have begotten many altercations through the years, but they always found a way to convert their anger into power. Coach Irihata only hopes that proves true with tonight’s game.

You, on the other hand, had a million tasks to complete before you could settle down in the gym, so you ultimately missed the scuffle in the gym. Just that didn’t make you ignorant to the rising tension, and you couldn’t help but feel it was your fault.

#haikyuu!!#oikawa toru x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #haikyuu angst #oikawa angst #iwaizumi angst #oikawa x reader x iwaizumi #mattsukawa issei #takahiro hanamaki

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ikingsley · 3 years

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Ina x MC: My Star

Summary: Ina and Luna take their relationship to the next level.

Warnings: Fluff! So much fluff.

Tag: @samanthadalton @domakir @kulaykape @hellyeah90sbaby @dopeyouth @kwaj05 @thedaft1 @swimmingshoebakerydreamer @kaitlynliaofanxx (Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed)

Author’s Notes: Events after the gala in QB Ch 16. Unfortunately, I have been busy with school and work, but I’ve still been writing. I’ve been working on a new series, one that tells about Ina and Luna’s future together. Here’s the start to their future relationship.

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May 3 @5:42 PM

Ina: Hey. I have a little something for you. Do you want to swing by my place and pick it up? Maybe stay for dinner too?

Luna picked up her phone, reading the message. They had been together officially for a few months now, but the gala had in a way halted their progress. It’d been a few weeks since Ina and Luna had truly been together for a date. Conversations through texts and FaceTime calls that lasted well into the night did occur frequently, but nothing of the romance the two had grown used to. Neither one knew how to approach the delicate situation they found themselves in.

Luna: I’ll be there.

Luna walked quickly to her dorm, grabbing a hoodie. She trudged over to Ina’s apartment and waited patiently on the other side of the door. Ina opened it and gave her that million-dollar smile.

“Hey,” Luna breathed out, her breath hitching after seeing Ina physically after weeks.

“Luna. You’re looking as radiant as ever. Come inside.”

Ina’s glance to the outside world did not go unnoticed. It was if she was searching for someone watching her. Not finding anyone who caught her attention, Ina closed the door and bolted it as she welcomed Luna inside.

“You know, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“You finished your first year at Belvoire. I think that deserves some celebration.”

Luna looked around, taking in Ina’s apartment once more. Then she smelled it. She looked around the kitchen and saw the oven light on.

“Is Ina ‘I-Burned-Pasta’ Kingsley cooking?”

“Well, attempting to. I have some chicken in there.”

“Color me impressed. Does that chicken happen to be for me?”

“No,” Ina chimed in, turning around to attend to her food. “It’s for a twin sister you never knew you had that I also happen to be going out with.”

Luna only rolled her eyes at Ina in reaction, but reached forwards to hug her from behind.

“I missed you,” Luna whispered into Ina’s ear.

Ina spun Luna around and stared intensely into her eyes. “And I, you. Our FaceTimes weren’t enough for me. I don’t know what happens next with my future at Belvoire, but I know I want my future with you.”

Ina pressed a kiss against Luna’s temple. The timer went off and Ina pulled the chicken out of the oven.

“Me too. I-” Luna stopped.

Ina stopped and swiveled around waiting to hear those three words. “I…what?” Ina questioned. And how she longed to hear those words uttered from Luna’s mouth. Ina heard them frequently from Lilian and Charlotte, but she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d heard it from a partner. Excluding Luna, it’d been so long since she’d felt that kind of intimacy.

“I…I wonder what we have to accompany this chicken!” Luna diverted.

“Oh. I forgot to tell you. I have some broccoli in there too. Maybe I have some…wait- this went bad.” Ina dumped the rotten spinach in the trash. “Yeah, only broccoli.”

“That’s perfect.”

Soon, Ina placed a full plate in front of Luna and settled beside her. They took their first bite and surprised was only one way to describe the taste.

“This is uh…interes-” Luna remarked as she politely forced herself to swallow a portion of the food.

“You don’t need to-”

“Thanks.” Luna ejected what was left of the chicken from her mouth like it were a toxin.

“So, pizza?” Ina said and sputtered out the chicken. It was bone dry and there was too much seasoning of all sorts. Too many things had been combined.

“Please. No offense.”

“None taken. It’s the thought that counts, no?”

“You’re improving every time I see you cook, so let’s call it progress,” Luna smiled as she patted Ina’s shoulder. She stood up to grab her phone and order pizza.

Ina sighed and flopped on the couch. She so desperately wanted this night to go well. She herself was nervous. Ina had spent the previous nights tossing and turning. It finally had dawned on her that she was in love with Luna. Ever since she met her she’d slowly been falling more and more under Luna’s spell. Now she was completely enraptured by her. The simple facial features that morphed into an infectious smile. The way her nose crinkled when she laughed at Ina’s horrible jokes and witty banter. The way Luna caressed her face as she swept her into a kiss. Everything had been coming together.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Luna asked while she sat down next to Ina indicating she had just gotten off the phone for pizza delivery.

“Just...contemplating everything surrounding us. I’ve come to understand what’s truly important to me, which ultimately boils down to Lil, Charlotte and you of course. I don’t dislike my job, but maybe this is an opportunity for me to try and search for a more research-based career rather than actively teaching.”

Ina stood up, grabbing a small, elegantly wrapped rectangular box.

“I care for you too, Ina,” Luna smiled. “You so did not wrap this by the way.”

“Hey! I’ve gotten better at gift wrapping.”

“Not this good-”

“Oh hush, you. Open it.”

Luna meticulously pulled off the wrapping. Inside was a small framed poster. The poster had a big circle right in its center with some stars in it.

“Ina, this is beautiful. Is this-?”

“The stars on the day we met.”

“I don’t know what to say, babe. It’s...it’s perfect. I love you. I mean, I love it! Yeah! I love it.”

The silence that followed was highly drawn out. Both - who could talk a mile a minute when they were excited or passionately ranting - were dead silent. Ina replayed the moment in her head over and over. Had she heard right?

Luna was more bewildered with herself. She’d been too used to toxic, quickly-ending high school relationships. But as more time passed since she’d let the cat out of the bag, the more she realized that this somewhat spur-of-the-moment confession had more truth in it than anything she’d ever said before. She did love Ina. She loved the way Ina would tell her about her day, getting particularly loud during both the best and worst parts of the day. She loved the way Ina made her laugh or actually kept up with her nerdy discussions. She loved the way Ina would leave anything she was doing if Luna needed something. She loved the way Ina cared for Luna during her stressful finals and tended to her every need. She loved the way Ina balanced her so well.

But deep down, Luna was scared. Scared of being hurt again. Scared of loving someone who only loved her if she acted in a certain way. But that someone wasn’t Ina. She’d found more of herself through Ina. And she’d found something she deserved in a relationship - a mutual respect.

“Can I crash here? I’m pretty tired.”

“Yes, but Luna...”

“Good night!”

“Wait-”

Ina’s urgency made Luna swivel around and she finally met Ina’s eyes. They were full of admiration, love, happiness.

“Did you mean it, Luna?”

“Mean...what?”

“You know.”

“Well, words are a tricky thing. After all, there’s a whole branch of anthropology that focuses on linguistics. It’s very complex!”

Ina hummed softly. “Yes, well...good night.” Ina pressed a chaste kiss on Luna’s forehead and Luna began to turn around to the bedroom. “I love you, Lu.”

Again, Luna stopped in her tracks. “What?”

“I love you, Garcia,” she grinned. “Come here.”

Luna ran towards Ina as she swept her in her arms. Luna jumped into Ina pressing her lips against Ina’s. Ina carried Luna’s small frame and paraded her around the apartment, often breaking their kiss with more admissions of love.

“I love you, Ina. With all my heart. You know pieces of my past and so I was scared to say it. I know we haven’t officially been together for long, but what I feel for you, it’s beyond anything I’ve ever felt before. I am...deeply in love with you, however scary it may seem.”

“Read the caption under the stars, my love.”

Quietly, Luna descended from Ina’s arms and picked up the poster she’d just been gifted. Under the stars was a small quote.

I love you, what star do you live on? - Conrad Aiken

Ina Kingsley and Luna Garcia

The Day the Stars Aligned. September 6, 2020 | 4 AM | Dreams Diner, New York

“I love you so much you big nerd,” Luna beamed and wiped away the tears that began forming at the corner of her eyes. “I love you, Ina Kingsley.”

“Sol.”

“Sun? My name, Luna, means moon in Spanish. But I guess I’m your sun too.”

“You are. By the way, I know that, Lu.” Luna gave her a ‘really? are you sure about that’ look. “I am fluent in Spanish thank you very much! I learned it before English!”

“As did I,” Luna retorted.

“Right, well. My middle name. It’s Sol.”

A few months later...

“I can’t believe I’m here,” Ina laughed.

“Honestly, same.”

“What? You basically coerced me into coming!” Ina exclaimed. “I thought we were going to the museum.”

“We will after if you’re up to it. And you would’ve come regardless. You love me too much.”

“Touché.”

“Such a little simp.”

“And?”

“No, nothing,” Luna said quickly. She proceeded to whisper simp once again under her breath.

A strong, tatted man opened the dark curtains, letting the establishment soak in the sunlight.

“How can I help you?” he asked.

“We’re here for tattoos!” Luna said happily.

“Yes, well, we are at a tattoo parlor,” Ina retorted.

“Sorry. Don’t mind her. She’s just grumpy all the time.”

Ina made a face at Luna, her brows furrowed in frustration. Just through that look, Luna knew not to pester Ina once more. She gave her a ‘you’re in trouble when we get home’ look.

“You both are willingly getting tattoos?” the man asked. It was definitely more directed towards Ina.

Bashfully, Ina nodded. Never in a million years did she think she’d do this. A tattoo. Jesus Christ. Luna was right. If she pulled out a Merriam-Webster dictionary, she knew she’d find a full page photo of herself next to the word simp - a word they’d specifically added just for her.

“What are you guys looking for? Something small, something big? Something plain, something colorful?”

Who was this man? Dr. Seuss’s son? Ina thought to herself.

“Just something small. Maybe on my hip or something,” Luna answered for the both of them as Ina nodded in agreement.

As fun as this little bonding activity was, both women were professionals. Nothing could be too blatantly obvious. Potentially hypothetically, Ina couldn’t have her students ask her about her new tattoo rather than anthropology.

“Do you guys have any designs you want me to copy?” the man asked as he put on gloves.

“Umm...I didn’t have anything in specific in mind. Maybe her name or something that reminds me of her? A rose maybe?” Luna began rambling as her thoughts took over.

The two women stood aside in silence, pondering what they would get. It was unlike them - they were always prepared for everything.

“Hey, Luna,” Ina turned to face her partner. “Why don’t we get a sun and moon?”

“Aww, Ina,” she smiled.

Goddamn those heart eyes, Ina thought.

“Okay, why don’t you get a moon and I’ll get a sun,” Luna said. “That way I’ll always be reminded of you, and you me.”

“I’d like nothing more, my love.”

And after being called a baby multiple times by Luna and a few blaring yelps - mostly on Ina’s part - they were permanently linked by ink.

“I love you but I am never ever doing that again, Luna.”

#ina x mc #ina kingsley #queen b #luna garcia

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anxious-logic · 3 years

Text

Protostar

Sequel to The Stars Align, but not necessary to read that first to understand this

Ship: Logince (Roman/Logan)

Word Count: 670

Warnings: One swear, depictions of an anxiety attack, please tell me if there's anything else!

AO3 Rating: T

Summary: We know how Roman felt about meeting his soulmate. But what about Logan?

or, logan has a crisis in the bathroom

Logan tapped the notes for his lecture on the small stand in front of him, straightening the edges. He glanced up as he noticed someone lingering out of the corner of his eye; he looked vaguely familiar from the large crowd listening to the lecture.

“Hello. Do you have any questions about the topic?”

The person shook his head, a large smile appearing on his face. “No. I- I think you’re my soulmate?”

Logan felt his face go slack as his world crashed down around him.

“Oh.” He felt his hand grasp his left forearm tightly, where those exact words were written. “I- oh.” He took a deep breath, trying to keep himself steady and desperately grasping for anything to say. “Please excuse me for a moment. Do not leave; I will return momentarily.”

He left before his soulmate (fuck) could respond, turning on his heel and walking as quickly as he could to the nearest bathroom. He barely felt his backpack slipping out of his fingers and falling onto the floor as he nearly collapsed onto the sink, bracing himself on the cool white sink.

Logan could feel how quickly his breaths were coming, his body on the verge of collapse. He wondered why the world was blurry around him - he had his glasses on - before realizing that he was crying.

He wasn’t ready for a soulmate.

He tried to catch his breath, count it out, control, but he wasn’t able to.

God, this would disrupt every single plan Logan had constructed for his life - he had a plan, there wasn’t any room for another person in the plan, how was he expected to suddenly change all of himself to allow for his other half-

His thoughts were interrupted by him almost choking on a sob, involuntarily coughing and gagging in his body’s attempts to keep breathing. He forced himself to take control, swallowing and intentionally breathing.

He would be okay.

Cognitive distortions were common for everyone, even him. Even if it didn’t seem like everything would fall into place, it was highly unlikely that there would be such a huge disconnect between him and his soulmate that the stranger wouldn’t be understanding.

He took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair in a futile attempt to straighten it out. He made eye contact with himself in the mirror and smoothed down his tie, ignoring the way it was slightly crooked.

If his soulmate couldn’t accept the fact that he wouldn’t change his entire life and plans because of him, then that was his fault.

He carefully splashed a few handfuls of water onto his face, trying to make his skin slightly less red. He leaned down to grab his backpack, swinging it back onto his shoulder.

This would be fine, he reassured himself as he walked back to the lecture room. He saw his soulmate leaning on the desk at the front of the room, doing something on his phone.

“I apologize for that,” Logan said. “I… hope you won’t mind if I choose not to disclose why I did that, at this moment.”

His soulmate nodded, shrugging one shoulder slightly. “That’s fine. You don’t have to tell me everything right away. We’re strangers, right now, regardless of the words on our arms. We don’t have to trust each other immediately.”

Logan felt a sense of relief at his soulmate’s words. “Thank you. I… greatly appreciate that.”

The other man held out a hand to Logan. “How would you feel about going to get lunch together? No pressure, just two people getting to know each other a little better.”

Logan slowly took the offered hand. “I believe I would enjoy that very much.”

The other man squeezed his hand. “My name is Roman. He/him pronouns.”

Logan gave Roman a tiny smile. “Logan. He/him.”

Roman gently tugged him out do the lecture hall and into the hallway, moving towards the direction of the dining hall. “I can’t wait to get to know you better.”

***

Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed this!

#ts logan #ts roman #logan sanders #roman sanders #logince #romantic logince #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #i can write sometimes

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shinydelirium · 3 years

Text

MLQC Season 2 Chapter 9 (Kiro) Final Part [Delayed Answer] & [Fissure] Translation [CN]

***SPOILERS*** THIS POST CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR CONTENT NOT YET RELEASED ON EN SERVER!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!***

Here’s the rest of Kiro’s story from Season 2 chapter 9

For the previous translations of Season 2 Chapter 9: Part 1

Enjoy~

[Delayed Answer]

The day of the new song conference finally came to a successful conclusion.

Thinking that I could finally go home and rest at ease, I suddenly received a message from Savin, asking me to bring Kiro to the company right away.

After listening to my retelling, Kiro’s smile immediately froze on his face as if he got caught sneaking out for barbecue.

Kiro: Savin will definitely give me three hours of ideological education.

Kiro: ….Or I’ll just slip away and say that my stomach hurts.

MC: It doesn’t matter, I will help you intercede.

Kiro sighed. After thinking long and hard, he quickly aligned with me and prepared to proactively explain his mistakes.

Pushing open the door of the company, gold foil ribbons suddenly fell from the ceiling and cheers came one after another to my ears.

Kiro and I were stunned in place, surrounded by everyone.

Kiki: Congratulations to our company’s successfully held new song release conference by the ace artist, Kiro!

Willow: We did it!!!

The company is full of lights and festoons and the banners of “Today’s New Year” is displayed everywhere.

Kiro was pushed to the center of the crowd, surrounded by balloons, ribbons, and flowers. Soon, a huge cake was pushed in front of him.

Behind him was a long row of tables filled with tempting cupcakes and carbonated drinks.

A few golden letter balloons were fixed on the wall, piecing together the words “KILO”.

It turns out that everyone thought that Kiro rarely showed up these days because of the sullenness of the last storm so they prepared this surprise to cheer him up.

Kiro: Scared me to death…I thought I came to receive ideological education.

Savin: Don’t worry, there will be time for that later. ***Changed some wording***

With everyone’s urging, Kiro blew out the candles on the cake.

Kiro: Thanks, everyone!

His smile in the candlelight was captured by the camera. At this moment, the whole world is full of hope and life like never before.

After the celebration banquet, Kiro and I went to the company’s terrace for some fresh air.

As the sun sets, the evening breeze gently takes away the remaining warmth.

MC: Can you tell me now…?

MC: How did the “last-minute superhero” Kiro stop the train?

Kiro: It’s actually very simple. I briefly hacked into the car’s control system and activated the emergency braking function.

Kiro: As long as the startup program is disrupted, the train will be able to stop.

MC: What! I didn’t think of that before!

Kiro: The most important thing is that the boy changed his mind. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have worked even if I typed many lines of code.

MC: You’re right, but fortunately, he was not brainwashed by the people of GRAY RHINO.

Kiro: Because his heart has never changed.

Kiro: He lost his way and fell into a quagmire. All he needed was someone to pull him out.

Kiro: Therefore, we have also agreed that no one will say a word about what happened today.

The wind lifted his hair on his forehead and the eyes that looked at me were shining.

I nodded solemnly.

MC: No matter what, I will support your decision.

MC: What’s more, during that plane accident, he changed his mind in the end and saved the person on that flight.

The real culprit is GRAY RHINO. They took advantage of this boy’s pain and weakness to achieve their goals.

If today’s crisis wasn’t resolved, perhaps the contradiction between Evolvers and ordinary people will incite into an unprecedented degree….

Thinking of this, my mind suddenly fell into a daze.

CORE is like a stone thrown by an invisible hand, constantly stirring up even bigger ripples. I’m also more and more certain that the most critical variable in this world is CORE.

But for most people in this world, some of them choose to move forward and some choose to retreat.

Some people stay where they are, while others are lost and don’t know where to go.

Therefore, there are many people with inconsistent paces and different destinations.

The history of this world is written by everyone, but not everyone’s fate will be recorded.

Can their voices be heard? Can these meager destinies be included in the “beautiful future” pursued by this society?

Regardless of whether it is B.S., the Special Task Force, GRAY RHINO, these self-regulated people at the forefront, how can they frame the correct choice at every step….

Kiro: What are you thinking about? Why do you show such an unhappy expression again?

I shook my head.

MC: I was just thinking that the pain I felt from that boy might only be one thousandth or one ten thousandth of how he felt.

I was able to see his past memories, but I can’t 100% feel his current pain.

Kiro put down the soda can, rested his hands on the railing, and looked at me quietly.

Kiro: Will MC suffer because of her own abilities?

I thought for a moment and shook my head seriously.

MC: Only when you are close to suffering, you are closer to reality.

MC: Isn’t it cowardly if you ignore the facts because you are afraid of pain?

MC: And so….

Before I finished speaking, Kiro suddenly took my hand and gently placed it on top of his head.

His tousled hair brushes my palm, ticklish. I looked at him, puzzled.

Kiro: Then MC can also feel my memory.

The corners of his eyes were bent, and the golden color of the setting sun seemed to flicker in his eyes.

Kiro: Since you have the ability to perceive pain, you should also have the same right to perceive happiness.

I stared blankly at him and couldn’t help but blurt out.

MC: Are you happy?

Kiro: Mm. When I’m by your side, I am happy.

MC: Is this comfort?

Kiro shook his head, giving me a serious expression.

Kiro: Not comfort, but a promise. By your side, I am happy.

The wind rustled the hair on his forehead, revealing his starry eyes and the sincere gentleness in them.

Kiro: But speaking of the topic just now, I also have a question for MC.

His tone suddenly became a little lighter.

Kiro: “If you don’t hurt people, you will be hurt”… what would you do with this choice?

MC: In fact, someone once told me this answer.

I looked into his eyes, as if I could feel a warm feeling pouring into my heart.

MC: He should be the one who chooses the latter without hesitation , but he can always get himself out of the situation.

Fresh and vivid memories. Some are complete. Some are fragmented and they converge like a river of flowing into the sea of memories little by little.

MC: But there is something he is a bit bad about—he likes to keep the secret until the end.

MC: …So I didn’t know for a long time after arriving.

Kiro blinked and suddenly sneezed twice in succession.

Kiro: Is someone speaking ill of me behind my back….?

I chuckled, the last regret in my heart seemed to disappear with the wind.

MC: Given that these days are so unlucky, let us be superstitious for a bit.

I took out a coin and put it in the palm of my hand, muttering something to the night sky.

MC: If it’s positive, it means something good will happen. If it’s negative, it means something generally good will happen----

Kiro: Miss Chips is so greedy. But----what if it’s in the middle?

MC: What a coincidence!

I retorted righteously and tossed the coin up while talking.

The silver coin drew an arc in the air. I held my breath and waited without blinking for the coin to fall back into my palm.

That’s when a cold gust of wind came and caught me off guard. With a shake of my hand, the coin slipped through my fingers. ***Changed some wording***

MC: !

Kiro clutched his stomach and laughed, but I could only watch the coin fall downstairs.

MC: Unexpectedly, there is such a thing as bad luck…

Hearing me sigh, he stopped laughing and looked at me seriously and tenderly.

Kiro: Maybe God thinks that this answer should not be revealed now.

Kiro: So, let us leave everything to the unknown tomorrow.

[Fissure]

The night is dark, like a deep ocean with turbulent undercurrents and unknown crises lurking within.

The old streets that no one cares about in the city form a narrow, unnamed area. Only a few dirty, industrial buildings stand here.

This is the Secret Research Institute of B.S.

I hurried out of the elevator, walked through the dark corridor, and opened one of the hidden doors.

I put the documents in my hand on the table and told the B.S. researchers who looked at each other.

MC: Help me find something.

MC: Without my permission, do not disclose it to anyone and do not tell anyone that I have been here.

MC: Including BOSS.

B.S. Researcher: But Miss Nox, this is not compliant—

MC: Don’t forget that I have the first level permission of B.S.

The winter seems to have sneaked into the city quietly and every narrow street has been immersed in the precipitous chill.

When I left this building, I finally breathed a sigh of relief.

The roof of the building in the distance seemed to glint with a hint of pure silver, almost melting into the moonlight.

I couldn’t help but look back, only to find that the streak of silver was gone.

A black shadow flashed in the night sky, and it quickly melted into the dark.

All the hustle and bustle in the city, the noise of people underneath.

As the cold wind passed by, he stared at the street where he lived alone in the night, holding his breath for the appearance of a figure.

??: Helios, it’s time for you to act.

Helios: I’m not doing things for you. You’re not qualified to order me.

The person on the opposite end sighed softly.

??: There has always been a big misunderstanding between us. In other words, between B.S. and GRAY RHINO.

??: I hope that our future cooperation can be built on the basis of mutual trust.

Helios: The assumption is that you don’t do unnecessary stupid things.

Helios: If you want to get something like that, just do as I say.

Helios cut off the call impatiently, and the man’s hypocritical voice made him feel very disgusted.

As far as he can see, a figure finally walks out of the building’s door.

He watched the figure until the girl disappeared into the night.

He pressed his lips, pulled the rope fixed to his waist, and jumped off the billboard.

The dark figure jumped vigorously, following the rope in his hand, simply and neatly, and quietly entered the building from the window.

??: Who are you!

Helios: Don’t move.

The researcher who had just picked up the gun was caught off guard against the man’s golden eyes, and suddenly his fingers on the trigger were unable to exert force.

The man played with the knife in his hand, walked to the table, and his eyes fell on the experimental report.

Helios: Did she only leave this thing?

B.S. Researcher: …..

Helios: Answer me.

The golden light flashed in the man’s eyes, and his raised voice was like an unsheathed coldness.

This invisible power. His vocal cord muscles contracted uncontrollably and a word was slowly squeezed out of his throat.

B.S. Researcher: ….Yes.

He finally remembered the identity of the man in front of him and the legends about him circulating in the organization.

B.S. Researcher: You, you are….

Before he could recall his name, the man had already turned around.

Under the dim light, he suddenly turned his head and the corner of his mouth formed into a mocking arc.

Helios: I command you all—

Helios: Forget everything that happened just now.

“The train will be arriving shortly, please stand behind the safety line and wait in an orderly manner…”

The first ray of morning light came into the platform. The boy remembered yesterday’s ordeal and subconsciously took a step back.

But soon, what the blond man had said, rang in his ears--

Kiro: Those who use past experiences to deny themselves are cowardly people.

Kiro: Don’t believe in the stories told by others, let alone the signs of the destiny you have altered.

These words shone like a beam of light into the abyss of his heart.

He made up his mind that no matter what the people in that organization say, he will not waver, let alone contact them again.

Thinking of this, he took a lively step forward.

He can do anything that makes him strong. Such as, submitting a transfer application form. Or give a severe beating to those who bullied him in the past.

And his Evol should be his booster, taking him to farther destinations, just like the train he is about to board.

The train stopped in front of the platform. The sound of running tracks overwhelmed the small sound of bullets in the air as well as the sound of the boy hitting the ground.

The gunpowder smoke from the muzzle quickly dissipated into the air like white mist from the breaths of pedestrians in winter.

The train doors opened and a few passengers stepped out of the carriage, yawning.

Soon, screams and chaotic footsteps filled the entire station.

The tall man standing at the top of the stairs grinned slightly, his smile fleeting. He put the gun into his sleeve and turned briskly to leave.

??: Mission completed.

The passengers panicked as messy, bloody foot-prints were left on the floor tiles.

??: The bait is ready and the fish should be hooked.

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daebakinc · 3 years

Text

Hero Among Thorns - Pt 6

Pairing: Hyunwoo x Reader Genre: Undercover Detective AU, Action, Romance Word Count: 2.5K Summary: When a mistaken connection results in your kidnapping by one of the city’s most notorious gangs, the undercover detective Hyunwoo has no choice but to rescue and protect you, and, most dangerously of all, fall in love with you. Warning: Mentions of violence and blood. Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

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

Hyunwoo immediately looks over to you, but you can't read anything from his face. Minhyuk's, on the other hand, is drawn. His fingers tap rapidly where they rest on the car door. Something has him agitated and this time, it's nothing you've done. At least, you don't think.

You glance out the windshield. Numerous high-end looking cars sit around the spacious shop floor on lifts or on the ground with hoods open, but they're all abandoned. The rest of Hyunwoo's crew, all outfitted in coveralls with varying grease stains, stand in an open area of the floor around Changkyun, who has one of his tablets in his hands. Their bodies mimic Minhyuk's, tense like warriors awaiting orders to confront the enemy head-on.

A sickly cool settles on your skin. Something's definitely wrong.

“Can I get out first?” Hyunwoo asks Minhyuk.

He backs away from the car.

The car is suddenly too stuffy despite the open window. You put your hand on the door handle, but something closes around your other hand, stopping you. You look down.

Hyunwoo's hand rests on top of yours. Your eyes shoot up to his, your heart thumping. He doesn't smile, doesn't say a word. He only squeezes your hand and nods. A simple dip of his head.

For some reason, that's enough to calm you. That silent reassurance that no matter what has his team so uneasy, Hyunwoo won't let it touch you. Not ever.

His hand is gone the second before his door opens and he slides out of the car. You hurriedly unbuckle and slip out as well, following close behind him.

“What happened?” Hyunwoo stops in front of his teammates, scanning each face.

“Not here. Upstairs.” Minhyuk's eyes land on you for a split second before he jerks his head toward a set of metal stairs. They lead to what you assume is an office space on the upper half of the garage that has a single window to look out of.

The message is clear. Whatever it is, Minhyuk doesn't want you to see it. You can't help but wonder if there's an actual reason or if he's letting his grudge be a pain in the ass.

“If it concerns me, I want to know,” you demand.

Minhyuk doesn't look at you, only Hyunwoo, and shakes his head at the leader's questioning gaze.

“I want to know,” you repeat.

“It's not about you, alright?” Minhyuk retorts. “It's about another witness. It's classified.”

You almost snark back with 'What? Another one die on your watch?' but you bite your tongue. No use pissing this guy off again if he's lying. Plus, if you're right, you probably don't want it confirmed. You do not need to jinx yourself.

“We'll be right back,” Hyunwoo says, addressing you. “There's a couch over there if you want to sit down. It should be clean. I'll show you around after if you want.”

You shrug, crossing your arms. As eager as you were to get out, you'd rather be back in your room right now. At least there, there are no surprises.

Hyunwoo heads for the stairs, the others following. Everyone except Minhyuk and Changkyun.

Minhyuk looks pointedly at Changkyun, who points to the tablet. “Gotta transfer the files first.”

Minhyuk sighs, walks towards the stairs, then turns around to walk back to you. He glances at Changkyun one more time, then says in a low voice, “Look, I'm... sorry.”

Your eyes, which had been following Hyunwoo, shoot back to Minhyuk. You misheard. “What?”

He bites his lip, fiddling with something in his coverall pockets. Sighing through his nose, he says, “I said I'm sorry, okay? For when I blew up at you at the apartment. When you said you didn't know if you'd testify.”

“Oh.” So you had heard correctly. For Minhyuk to apologize to your face is as surprising as Darth Vader being Luke's father. At least on the first watch-through.

“This case is kind of personal,” Minhyuk continues. “Remember the agent we said Yew killed? He was my friend. His name was Jung Jaehyun. He was a good agent and a better man. He didn't deserve what happened to him.”

“Oh,” you say again, more quietly. Whatever anger you still felt towards Minhyuk falls away when confronted with the pain evident in his expressive face. “I'm sorry.”

He wipes at his nose, sniffling, and looks away. “Yew needs to answer for that and everything else he's done. So much of our evidence could be ruled circumstantial; first-hand witness testimony could be what makes him pay, you see?”

Minhyuk's eyes beg for you to understand, to agree. You remember the recital of Yew's crimes, the venom and disgust with which your protectors spoke of him. You remember that tattooed arm and the way it so casually set in motion your shooting, drugging and kidnapping, the way it could have sentenced you to death. Such a man is no man at all. He is the shadow of humanity given form and such shadows are always searching for light to consume whole.

“Minhyuk...” You repeat his name so he finally looks you in the eye again. Summoning what reserve you have, you say, “I'll testify. I promise. For Jaehyun... and me.”

He stares at you, jaw dropping. It could almost be comical if not for the situation. The single promise leaves your legs weak, but it feels right. You know it’s what’s right.

Coming to his senses, Minhyuk shuts his mouth and shrugs. He turns away, tossing over his shoulder, “Thanks, but don't promise anything yet.”

Changkyun waits until his teammate is halfway up the stairs to get off his stool. “Just so you know, Minhyuk doesn't apologize often. If he does, he means it.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

“Well, better get up there, I guess. Just wanted to make sure all our security cameras were working,” he says, stretching his arms with his tablet in hand, the screen facing you.

You catch a brief glimpse of a small room like an office. Hyunwoo leans against a wall opposite the camera, beside a large, black television screen.

Changkyun sets the tablet on his chair, winks at you without a hint of smile that lacks warmth in his eyes, and ascends the stairs.

Watching him until the door shuts behind him, your eyes then fall to the tablet. It sits there, as tempting and revolting as Pandora's Box. If Minhyuk lied, and what happened does involve you, do you want to know? Or do you want to live as ignorantly blissful as possible?

Your deliberation only lasts a few seconds. Fuck it. There's probably some kind of price on your head. How much worse could it be.

Grabbing the tablet, you sit on the rather battered-looking brown couch. You find the volume button and hold it down.

Hyunwoo's voice grows louder. “... no way to trace it back to Yew?”

You can't see Changkyun's face, but you hear him answer, “I tracked the email. It's a bogus account sent from a burner phone. The signal was from some cafe in down-town. No known connection to Yew. We could always go to the cell's last location to see if they dumped it in the area, but I doubt it. They haven't been that stupid in the past.”

“Go check it out after this anyway. We're sure it's him?”

“Watch it. It's him,” Hoseok says with finality from somewhere off camera.

Changkyun presses something held in his hand. The screen by Hyunwoo lights up white, then a video starts playing.

Out of focus, it shows the outside of a brick building during the early gray hours of dawn. Whoever is taking the video is high up, at least three or four stories. The camera shifts and zooms in, going out of focus again. The sounds of a city are faint. Only a heavy breathing is captured clearly. The video slows to focus on a window of the opposite building.

It's open and without curtains. The camera zooms in even closer.

You gasp. The tablet drops from your frozen fingers.

The image, full of shadows as it is, leers back at you, still on the screen.

That's the blanket on your bed, the lamp on your bedside table, your face peaceful in sleep against the pillow.

The long muzzle of a rifle enters the shot. The end of its barrel aligns itself with your head like a hound trained on a scent.

You watch yourself roll away from the camera's view, completely unaware your safe-house could become the scene of your death.

A voice, mechanical and menacing, breaks the anonymous videographer's breathing.

“You let your girl sleep alone?” it asks, giving a low chuckle that makes you shiver with its chill. “Consider this a professional courtesy. Guess you didn't take my warning to guard her better seriously, Shownu. Bad idea.”

The video goes black.

Bad idea... Bad idea...

Changkyun comes down first, pausing at the foot of the stairs long enough to catch your eye. The look on your face must have confirmed you watched, but he doesn't stay to talk, instead heading out a side door. You drift from car to car after everyone but Hyunwoo and Hyungwon return to the garage floor, handing them tools or fetching needed parts. You know you're probably more hindrance than help. But they keep thanking you and patiently explaining what they're doing when you ask regardless. Jooheon especially pays attention to you, probably sensing your new restlessness. The mechanics may go over your head, but puzzling over it keeps the fear at bay. Somewhat.

Bad idea... Bad idea...

The pizzas Kihyun brings back smells amazing. One of them is even your favorite, but you're not sure you can even take a bite. Your stomach feels too tense to allow food of any kind in. You just smile and wave away Hoseok's call, pretending to be interested by a parts catalog you found on one of the benches. Hyunwoo wordlessly puts a paper plate with two slices of your favorite by your elbow. Rather than insult his kindness, you eat it all. The pizza tastes like ash and sits like a leaden weight in your stomach.

Bad idea... Bad idea...

Dread weighs on your chest when it's time to go. Hyunwoo and the rest of the team have done nothing but prove you can trust them. However, you doubt the windows in your bedroom are bulletproof. Maybe they'll move you somewhere else. But what if Yew can find you then too?

“Hey.”

You look up. Hyunwoo is watching you, holding the car door open for you. You had unknowingly stopped a few feet away. “Sorry, coming.”

Hyunwoo says nothing after he shuts the door after you, nor after he pulls out the garage. The closer you get to the apartment, the tighter your hands grip the seat. They start to ache, but you can't convince yourself to let go. The sanctuary you were so eager to leave feels even more like a trap than before.

Hyunwoo pulls the car into the same spot as before. As he turns the keys off, he says “Are you-?” just as you blurt out “I don't-”

“Sorry, you first,” Hyunwoo says, waving his hand in invitation.

Clearing your throat, you focus on your feet. “I don't want to go back in.”

“Why?”

“I... I saw the video. The one Yew sent.”

“How?” There's surprise, but no anger in Hyunwoo's voice.

You still don't dare to lift your gaze. “Changkyun's tablet.”

“Ah. He did try to argue you should know what's going on.”

You look up to watch Hyunwoo's face when you ask, “Were you going to tell me?”

Your ears suddenly feel hot at the thought of them keeping you in the dark about the new threat. Wouldn't they want to know if someone almost put a bullet between their eyes as they slept?

“We were still deciding,” he replies, meeting your eyes head-on. Even now, his directness is almost shocking. Shocking enough at least to cool some of your anger towards them. “Guess it's out of our hands. We didn't want to scare you any more than we know you are.”

“Too late.” You chuckle mirthlessly.

“If Yew was going to kill you, he would have done it already.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me feel loads better.”

Hyunwoo sighs at your heavy sarcasm. With patience clear in his voice, he says, “When you were kidnapped, that was a warning. We were entering his game without his permission. I'm still not sure why he got personally involved, but now we're messing up the chain of power. Showing he can still get to you is his bid to scare me and make us back off. But he won't do anything to you again.”

It's incredibly hard not to scoff. The obvious conviction in Hyunwoo's face stops you. “How can you know that for sure?”

“Because Yew's style is mind games. He isn't usually direct; he typically prefers being more subtle than overt. It's why he's been so hard to catch.”

“So what's to stop him from hiring someone to shoot me so it doesn't lead back to him? He killed your other agent.”

“A murder by sniper in a neighborhood like this? Of someone with no known ties to criminal activity? That would make news more than a nameless body in an alleyway. He must've thought our agent was a no one like that. Yew doesn't like news surrounding any of his crimes. News brings pressure on the police to solve the crime. Pressure that could hurt him or his business. He won't risk that.”

You feel like you're missing something. “So how are you supposed to get him?”

“Stealing high end cars was his beginning, now a hobby. We're stealing business from him. If we make him angry enough to do something drastic again, he'll come after me personally. Because I'm making this personal.”

So Hyunwoo is acting as a kind of bait. You shift in your seat, an unwelcome image of an injured Hyunwoo flashing in your mind. It's an uncomfortable thought to say the least, but just how sharp the pang is in your heart is jarring.

Hyunwoo says your name, making you look at him again.

“If I ever thought you were in real danger, that I couldn't protect you, I would get you out of here. I'd send you somewhere safe. Do you believe me?”

To your disbelief, Hyunwoo truly looks worried about your opinion of his ability to keep you from harm. Why should it matter to him? He's in charge of this whole thing in more ways than one. He's the badass skilled agent. As long as you don't run away, which you won't because you like living, he can do anything he wants with you. Hyunwoo could even use you as bait to try to draw out Yew again if he gets impatient.

But you know, as certainly as you've ever known anything, he would die before doing so.

Slowly, you nod. How could you not after everything he's done for you.

Hyunwoo smiles a little, his shoulders sagging slightly. He leans back against the seat, glancing out the window. “We'll move your things into my room. That window faces a brick wall. Should've put you there to begin with, but Jooheon suggested leaving you where you were. To give you your own space to help you feel more secure.”

“Where will you sleep?” you ask.

“On the floor of the same room in a sleeping bag if you're comfortable with that. Just to be close. Like I said, I don't think Yew would risk the attention of a forced entry and murder. It would be just in case. If you're not comfortable, I can take the couch.”

All the times your mother admonished you for not having matching cute pajamas suddenly ring in your head. You can just picture the smug look on her face. “I don't mind,” you squeak out, “but won't the floor be hard on your back? Especially after a few nights in a row?”

Hyunwoo's smile widens and he shakes his head. With a hint of pride, he says, “I've slept on a lot worse. Once, I fell asleep on concrete for a three hour nap.”

“Ow.”

“It wasn't too bad til I woke up. The shoulder I got shot in didn't like it. It's sensitive to cold.”

“You got shot?” You shift to completely face him, looking between his shoulders as if the wound was recent. “When? Are you okay?”

Hyunwoo laughs at your concern. “It was a few years ago. I’m fine, no lasting damage. Just gets a little achy when it's cold.”

“Oh.”

He glances out the window. “We should go in. Same way as we went out. Ready?”

There's a loaded question. Regardless, you answer, “Yes.”

You're not sure what you were expecting in Hyunwoo's room, but it definitely wasn't this. To call it Spartan would be too generous. The only furniture in the gray-walled room is a plain, metal-framed bed, a small trashcan, and a dresser closer to the side of a bedside table than an actual dresser. A large water bottle, the kind you remember jocks walking around with in high school, sits beside the bed on the floor along with a phone charger.

There's nothing personal. Of course, Hyunwoo can't have anything too personal on a deep-cover mission, but still. It looks more like a spartan hotel room than a bedroom.

As you stand in the doorway, clutching your pillow, you hear Hyunwoo shuffle out of the bathroom to stand just behind you. “I changed the sheets while you were in the shower, so you're all set,” he says.

“Thanks,” you say. Walking into the room feels like an intrusion, but you make yourself do it anyway. You step around the already laid-out sleeping bag for Hyunwoo, hesitating before you sit on the bed. When you look to the door, you're glad you did sit.

Hyunwoo is standing in the doorway, still drying his hair with a towel. His tan skins absolutely glows between the low light and the warmth from his shower. The plain gray sweatpants and white tank are hardly sexy on their own, but on Hyunwoo, clinging in all the right places and leaving just enough to imagination. What would it be like if instead of sleeping separately, you could sleep against him...

He drops the towel into the hamper in the hall. “Want me to turn off the light?”

“Yes, please. Thanks.” You quickly dive under the blankets, facing away from him. Hopefully he didn't notice you staring. The sheets smell like the detergent Hyunwoo bought for you. For a crazy second, you wish they still smelled like him.

The room goes dark. Hyunwoo's bare feet pad across the room. The nylon of the sleeping bag crinkles as he slides inside.

“Are you sure you're okay with the floor?” you ask quietly.

“The sleeping bag’s actually not bad,” he replies. “Lots of padding.

“Ok. Good night. Sweet dreams.” The last part slips out naturally. You screw your eyes shut, waiting for his reaction.

He only chuckles under his breath. “Good night.”

You were afraid knowing Hyunwoo was in the room with you would make it impossible to sleep. However, the adrenaline rush brought on by your eavesdropping finally catches up with you and you fall asleep shortly after settling in.

Unfortunately, sleep brings you back to a place you wish you weren't familiar with.

You know each sharp turn and twist of the abandoned street, each slash of shadow, even the haunting smell of garbage and fear and the uneven dips in the ground beneath your feet. You know how this dream goes. You know how it ends.

You wish you could fight to change it. The times you’ve tried to are countless. Unluckily, this isn't one of those dreams.

There's only one street with no end in sight. Every branching alley is blocked, sealed with impossibly high walls of bricks. Each building you pass is boarded up, derelict and hopeless.

The asphalt and concrete echoes with your racing footsteps and panting breath. Potholes and garbage grab at your feet. Every time you stumble, the noise behind you gets louder. A distant, reverberating growl of some monster. You don't know what it is. But animal instinct tells you it's danger. It's death if it catches you.

A faint light beckons in the distance. You run faster even as your legs feel like toothpicks ready to snap. The light gets brighter and brighter, just as your dread grows and grows.

When you reach the source of the light, your hand involuntarily reaches out and opens the warehouse door.

Don't do it! you scream at yourself. It's about as useful as yelling at the character of a horror film not to enter the haunted basement.

Inside, the only light is a single, bare light-bulb swinging from a cord high above the dirt floor. It sends shadows scuttling like rats around precariously stacked boxes. Plenty of places to hide, but you know they won't be enough.

The door behind you rattles and shakes like it's been struck by a battering ram. Although your entire body is on the verge of collapse, you lurch forward with a sob.

Hide. Hide. Hide!

You dive behind one of the towers of boxes just as the door explodes open. Gravel digs into your knees and hands. Tears sting your split lip. Your heart is beating so hard you feel dizzy. Unable to do anything else, you curl in a trembling ball. Praying for the miracle that never comes. Not this time.

The boxes that provided your pathetic cover fly away.

“Found you,” a deep voice says with a sinister chuckle.

The fear that strikes you is so potent you choke on it. You try to scramble away, but a foot connects harshly with your shoulder, sending you sprawling into the corner.

“You won't escape this time,” that voice says again. You could die a thousand times and never forget that voice.

Someone shouts your name in the distance. You know that voice too, trust it, but it's too far away. They won't reach you before it happens.

Hands enclose around your throat, jerking you up. Desperation turns your fingers to claws that scratch at those hands, but to no avail. You can't fight the dark.

Metal presses itself to your head.

But instead of the usual bang and flash of light, water fills your nose and mouth.

Spluttering and coughing, you're jerked from the nightmare. The faceless murderous wraith is gone, leaving Hyunwoo's worried face filling your sight, dimly back-lit by the lamp.

You shrink away, but you don't get far. Hyunwoo drops the water bottle in his hand to cup your face.

Hyunwoo says your name again, eyes darting all over you. His grip tightens, forcing you to look at him. His voice is soft and calm, but commanding. He repeats your name. “Look at me. It's okay. It is okay. You're safe.”

You can only stare at him a moment before you burst into tears that are equal parts relief and exhaustion. Your arms shoot from their petrified position against your chest to wrap around his. They're weak, robbed of all strength by the nightmare. Yet Hyunwoo lets you pull him closer, burrowing as much of yourself against him as you can.

He encircles your shoulders like a weighted blanket. Surrounded by the soothing weight and solidness of Hyunwoo, your trembling slowly eases to occasional shivers. The lingering, grasping phantoms fade away under steady strokes of his hand from the top of your head to your back.

“Nightmare?” he finally asks when your breathing mirrors his.

You nod, not daring to speak. You're afraid his gentleness, so different from your dream, will make you cry all over again.

“Has this happened before?”

You shake your head. Then you nod again. It's happened too many times to count. Nights of waking up alone and breathless in sheets sticky with sweat. Maybe this time, your subconscious knew someone else was nearby to be your savior.

“The first night after we brought you back here,” Hyunwoo says, continuing to stroke your back, “you had a nightmare. I wonder if it was the same. That nightmare was so bad you screamed then too. It made me angry.”

“Why would it make you angry?” you ask, your voice raw. Had you really screamed? You'd kept it in all the other times.

He doesn't answer at first. Then, his voice so quiet it's barely a whisper, he says, “Because I couldn't do anything. I... don't like not being able to keep you safe.”

What did he mean by that? No one can protect you from your own mind. At least he'd saved you in reality. Why did a nightmare matter? You sniffle, your tired brain trying to make sense of it and failing.

“Are you alright now?” Hyunwoo asks. “I can call Jooheon. He probably has some medication ---”

“No. I'm okay,” you interrupt. It was just a nightmare. A terrifying one, but you shouldn't disturb Jooheon over it. Half to reassure him, half to reassure yourself, you repeat, “I'm okay.”

“I'm not sure about that.”

Hyunwoo tries to pull away, but you don't release him. You can't.

“Please.” Your voice cracks. You hate it and how small it sounds. “Please don't go.”

“I won't.” He pats your back. A sigh brushes the top of your head, but it sounds more exhausted than annoyed or frustrated. “I need you to let go for just a little though, okay? I'm just going to grab a dry shirt. I'll be right back. Promise.”

Carefully, Hyunwoo peels your arms away from his torso. He winces as he stands from his kneeling position. Guilt pricks you. How long had he stayed in that position during your meltdown? Definitely too long for comfort.

You hadn't noticed you were shivering again until Hyunwoo comes back wearing a new shirt and carrying an additional blanket. Scooting over, you pull the blankets up to your chin and grab the new one as soon as Hyunwoo shakes it out over the bed. When he slides under the blankets himself, it feels like he brought a furnace with him. Like a cat to a fire, you can't help moving closer to him. To your surprise, he puts an arm around you to draw you snug to his side.

Lifting your head just enough to see his face, you find his eyes closed. His chest is already moving up and down in sleep's lazy rhythm. Damn, the man can fall asleep at the drop of a hat.

Hyunwoo suddenly speaks, his eyes remaining closed. “You've been brave through all of this, braver than I expected. I'm proud of you.”

You're unsure if he expects an answer, but you decide not when he continues speaking.

He sighs sleepily. “This is just for tonight.” The way he mumbles it makes it sound almost as if he's telling himself that as much as you, but your fatigued brain is probably playing tricks on you.

“I know,” you reply, tentatively lowering your head to his chest. Beneath your ear, his heartbeat thumps like a lethargic lullaby.

“You'll talk with Jooheon about this nightmare tomorrow. He can help.”

“Okay.”

The nightmare doesn't return.

#shownu scenarios #monsta x scenarios #kpopwritingnet #kwritersworldnet #kwriterskollection #monsta x fanfics #shownu fanfics #kpop fanfics

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savage-rhi · 4 years

Note

if you feel like it can you write smth for my baby khaio + higgs with this prompt 🥺👉👈 “I can’t believe you talked me into this.” have a nice day jay and hopefully u get to refresh yourself somehow its hot af here in croatia aswell im dying

@nemodoren Once again it is swamp night in my neck of the woods but I am doing awesome! My pants may be glued to my skin, but I am dandy! Please don’t die. Not without me my person xD lol. I hope you like this hon! Thanks for waiting on it! 💙

Spurts of laughter filled throughout the terminal as Khaio ran, leading the way while Higgs trailed behind. Khaio was ecstatic, his whole body brimmed with energy all the while Higgs was cautious, nonetheless, he was becoming more playful by the second. Khaio had that sort of effect on Higgs, and he knew when to take advantage of it especially when Higgs was having an off day.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Higgs said, catching his breath when Khaio finally stopped and began to climb up a ladder near the entrance. He looked down briefly and smiled at Higgs, giving a careless shrug.

“You didn’t have to tag along, y’know?” Khaio said in his defense. His sarcasm clearly evident.

Higgs shook his head up at his associate, adjusting his hat before he began to make the trek up the ladder. Murmured curses escaped his lips, wishing he had time to go to his quarters to change out of his porter uniform. Alas, Khaio’s enthusiasm ensnared Higgs and then some. Even if he wanted to say no, Higgs didn’t have the heart to deny the request. He hadn’t seen him ages.

Since they first met, Higgs had been wary of him. Khaio had his moments were he kept to himself, but when the planets aligned, he seemed to be livelier. More so than anyone who lived in the city limits that Higgs had encountered. The shift in personality once upon a time had put Higgs off. Given how he grew up and the kinds of people he encountered during his youth, Higgs didn’t have a lot of friends. He didn’t want to take a risk with anybody, regardless of his altruism to help the community out. In his experience being a porter, friends were nothing but trouble. God forbid they die on the job too. There was something about Khaio that lifted Higgs’s shields, and as much as his curiosity baited him to pursue further, Higgs was afraid of getting hurt. He was too stubborn to admit it to anyone but himself.

“Bout’ time you showed up!” Khaio said as he watched Higgs reach the top. He extended a hand when Higgs got close, watching as the porter hesitated before grabbing a hold of Khaio’s arm while being hoisted up.

“Mind tellin’ me what the hell you brought me up here for?” Higgs chuckled, crossing his arms as he felt a cool breeze hit the back of his neck. Goosebumps began to trail down his skin. Even with the porter uniform, Higgs felt exposed to the elements. Nonetheless, it was kind of nice considering how sweaty he was.

“I gotcha some things! While you were gone, I did some trading with folks here and there and bada-bing!” Khaio said happily, walking over to a vent sticking out of the rooftop of the terminal. He gently kicked at a loose spot, taking off a panel that revealed a bag.

Higgs watched as Khaio looked through the contents before smirking, giving the bag a friendly toss towards Higgs. His eyes widened, leaning forward to catch it nearly falling flat on his face.

“Jesus!” Higgs exclaimed while Khaio laughed.

“I might be Jesus in your eyes after you see what I got!” Khaio said teasingly.

Higgs chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Whatever.”

He began to rummage through, his fingers being careful while he pulled out the contents one by one from the bag. To say Higgs was astounded was an understatement. Khaio had gone through the trouble of getting Higgs old Egyptian history books he hadn’t seen before along with a few packs of music CDs that existed before the Death Stranding. Higgs recalled ranting about his passions to Khaio but never thought he had been truly listening during their conversation in the past.

Higgs stopped to briefly look at Khaio, noticing the smug look he had on his face.

“Alright, alright, maybe you surprised me a little bit,” Higgs admitted.

“It gets better!” Khaio said, gesturing for him to continue.

Higgs sighed, then located the final item. He picked up the small package and brought it to his eyes so he could read over the inscription. Once that and the pungent smell emitting from the box kicked in, Higgs’s jaw dropped.

“No way!” Higgs exclaimed.

“Yeah, way!” Khaio laughed.

“No fuckin’ way!”

“Yeah, fuckin’ way!”

Higgs enthusiastically began to open the box, revealing the bundle of fifty cigarettes. They weren’t just any brand either. The potent scent of marijuana infiltrated his nose like an old friend and he couldn’t help but laugh like a schoolboy. It had been ages.

“Damn. Ya’ll know if the community police caught ya with this your ass would be deep-sixed, right?” Higgs asked, furrowing his brows as Khaio approached and took one of the cigs out of the box, keeping his gaze on Higgs while putting the end of one in his mouth.

“Do you think I give a shit?” Khaio snorted. “It’s not like you’re one with a clean track record.”

“Touche’,” Higgs laughed, taking a cig for himself. He sat the bag and contents on the ground and leaned towards Khaio when offered a lighter. The two of them silently puffed, enjoying the texture and taste of the smoke. Eventually, Khaio and Higgs leaned upon the balcony of the terminal’s roof and looked outward at the vast terrain. It was a full moon tonight, and they could easily make out rock formations that had character.

“You didn’t have to go through the trouble of doing all this, you know?” Higgs said after letting out an exhale.

Khaio was thankful it was dark out. Higgs couldn’t see how Khaio’s face flushed with pink from hearing how genuine he had sound from the turn of events.

“Contrary to what you might think, I do care about you,” Khaio said, swallowing as the words left his lips. He had been wanting to say it for a long time but didn’t expect his mouth to run away with him.

Higgs turned his head, gazing over Khaio. He could feel the corners of his lips form into a smile. His eyes sincere as he took in the emotions that sprung up suddenly, along with the pleasant buzz behind his eyes. Maybe he could take a risk. Maybe Khaio was worth it. Maybe.

**A link to my ko-fi account. If you enjoy my content and want to support me getting my monthly medication for fibromyalgia and arthritis, I would be eternally grateful. It is NOT a requirement however! All my work is free to read!**

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that-one-girl-behind-you · 4 years

Text

Illicio 9/?

Part 8

"What's up with that?" She asks after so long has gone by that Jon is starting to think he's safe. He lets out an exhalation that hopefully doesn't sound as exhausted as he is with this whole matter.

Jon is, regardless of what Tim -or Georgie, or even Gerry himself- used to say, not completely hopeless at reading people. Only mostly. He's not entirely blind as to how the mood has shifted in his interactions with the man in question.

"Nothing." Jon says, then adds sullenly. "I don't know."

Daisy squeezes his hand. "Martin?"

"I don't know." Jon turns his head away to avoid Daisy's gaze. "I- Daisy, I think there's bigger things to worry about."

"It's good to- I'm trying to think of the little things too." Daisy shrugs. "It feels like having a purpose."

On the days after the Buried, Daisy gets to know the world again. Or more accurately, the Institute, and the people in it. The difference is mind-blowing, now that the Hunt is only a background presence in her mind instead of the driving force behind her thoughts.

"You look... better," she tells Melanie one evening. It's not really a visible change, but she remembers Melanie from before the Unknowing, always bristling with a rage so barely restrained it used to set Daisy on edge too. Back then her thoughts had been mostly focused on how to take Melanie down if it came to a fight, and she has the feeling the same can be said of Melanie. Just two rabid dogs sizing the other up and waiting for the tension to crack.

"I guess I am," Melanie frowns down at the computer screen, and when Daisy leans over she can see she's taking a quiz of some sort. Probably not the approved use of Institute equipment, but she doesn't seem to care. "Did Jon tell you about the bullet?"

"He mentioned it," Daisy shrugs. A lot of things were said in the depths of the coffin, trying to bring the other some measure of comfort.

"Gerry says they got it off me just in time. Apparently I was a bad accident away from becoming a full avatar." Melanie gives her a careful look out the corner of her eye. "I'm guessing that's why you look..."

"Like shit?" Daisy asks with a dry smile, and after a moment Melanie smiles back.

"I was trying to look for a better term."

"Sugar-coating doesn't suit you."

"Can't say I have much practice." Melanie goes back to her quiz, and Daisy goes back to thinking.

Her condition is hardly surprising, considering everything; the Hunt has been pulling at her from the moment she climbed out the coffin after Jon, but she's done her best to ignore the call of the blood. Daisy's very aware that this is abstinence without recovery, and that her reticence to join in with the Hunt's other hounds is her choosing a slow but certain death.

But she's herself again, and finding out who that is feels like a goal worth dying for.

"Why are you an onion?" Daisy frowns at the computer screen showing the results of Melanie's quiz.

"I was always going to be an onion," Melanie shrugs, "I just wanted to know what kind."

Daisy's thinking about the right way to answer to that statement, when Melanie's phone pings in her pocket. She watches her pull it out, and her face softens at whatever it is she just received.

"I have to go. You should- I think he's recording, but you can probably go in if you're quiet." Melanie points at Jon's door. Even the way she refers to him is different, vaguely distasteful apathy instead of the tense hostility Daisy remembers from before the Unknowing, which is a relief.

The irony of the situation doesn't escape Daisy, how she walked into the coffin with half a mind to kill Jonathan Sims, and walked out ready to kill for Jonathan Sims.

"I can be alone for a while. It's alright." The call of the blood is easier to ignore when she's in someone else's company, but Daisy's not- she's noticed how Basira looks at her, the tired tension of her lips when Daisy follows her around the Institute and she has to pretend it doesn't bother her. Daisy's broken, but she will not be a burden. Not to anyone, but most of all not to Basira.

"Okay, then. Want anything from outside?" Melanie asks as she shoves an arm through her jacket's sleeve.

"I- some chips, if you could get them. Or any food that doesn't come packaged, really."

Melanie briefly nods an acknowledgment as she leaves, and she closes the door behind her before Daisy can ask her to leave it open.

It's okay. It's just a room, just a door. There's plenty of space to breathe and to move. If she focuses, she can feel Jon's presence in his office; he's okay too. They're- they made it out.

Daisy opens her eyes, unsure when she closed them, and finds that the walls have started closing in. She tries to ignore them by clicking back on Melanie's onion quiz, surely that will distract her right? The room is unchanged, she's- it's safe out here, safer than outside for sure, where she'd no doubt find a trail and be compelled to chase it, to run until her legs hurt and she can smell the panicked exhaustion her victim's perspiration, until they cannot keep from her any longer and she's forced to claim the prize and move on to the next-

"You alright there?" When the man's voice pulls her away from her mind, Daisy realizes she's closed her eyes again. Her fists are clenched tightly on the desk, and when she forces them open she finds a matching set of angry red crescent moons on her palms. "You're growling."

She looks up; the man is standing before the desk, looking warily down at her and he smells of lavender and Jon, which helps her push away the last traces of the blood.

"I'm okay." She mumbles, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to release her hunch over the desk, leaning back against her chair. She's heard a lot about this man lately; Basira calls him by his surname, like the ones she doesn't trust, but Melanie calls him Gerry with a sort of relaxed companionship, and when Jon does the same there's an undeniable undercurrent of fondness in the tone he gives the name. She has yet to meet him herself, but this seems as good a time as any, now that the room has stopped trying to suffocate her. "You're Gerry Keay?"

The man holds his silent contemplation for another minute, before he shrugs and grabs the chair across the desk. "That would be me. I've never seen an avatar of the Hunt look so famished," he observes. "Your kind doesn't usually deprive themselves."

"Well, I do," Daisy grumbles.

"Yeah. I can see that."

Silence. It's not exactly comfortable, but it's not uncomfortable either, and the company keeps both the Buried and the Hunt at bay.

"Are you here for Jon?" Daisy asks, and Gerry nods.

"Always. But right now I have to see Martin first."

That's... unexpected, to say the least. "Why do you have to see Martin?"

The man gives her an amused, resigned smile and a shrug. "Jon," he says like it's all the reason he needs, and Daisy decides on the spot that she likes Gerry Keay.

"I guess that tracks," she nods. "Why don't you go then?"

"You looked like you needed someone to talk to for a bit."

"That helps." Daisy nods. While she would've sneered at it before, she's now terribly aware that kindness is a virtue sorely lacking in the world they move in. "I'm alright now."

"You sure?" Gerry's eyeing her strangely, and only then does Daisy remember he's aligned with the Beholding as well.

"Yes. I'm- I'll just keep myself busy." Daisy looks at the computer. "I can... figure out what kind of onion I am."

The man blinks rapidly a couple times, probably trying to process what she just said, and Daisy wonders if Melanie felt the same perverse satisfaction when she said it.

"Sounds- yeah. I'll go now," Gerry says, climbing to his feet again. He turns at the door, and gives Daisy another evaluating look. "You're… very strong. Thank you. For helping him back." And he's gone before Daisy can ask what that even means.

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

"You should be careful with that. Could be dangerous." Peter half-turns before he leaves, a hand on the edge of the ajar door and ice-cold eyes heavy on Martin's nape.

"Not any more dangerous than anything else in my life, really." Martin shrugs, eyes fixed on the bright computer screen. Interacting with Peter is only tolerable because it feels only marginally like talking to another human being, but even that is enough to upset his stomach.

"Well, if you look at it like that. But I think you'll find that doing something dangerous out of your own free will is always better than being controlled to do it, even if that will is motivated by your frankly worrying infatuation with a man that does not care about you."

"Hm," is all Martin says. Out the corner of his eye he sees Peter's lips curl into a satisfied smile, but he can't bring himself to care. It's not like he's telling any lies either way.

"Okay! Now I really am running late, so if you don't mind?" Peter says in that cheerful, jovial tone Martin is quickly growing tired of, before he closes the office door behind him.

Martin sighs. This is- it's been harder, lately.

He still remembers why he's doing this, and he still cares, he really does. And everything is going according to plan, Peter really does think Martin believed his 'only you can save the world' spiel, Jon is out of the coffin, Daisy's alive, the Institute is -mostly- safe... but he just got the first actually feasible proof that the Extinction might be a real thing, and all he can think is that he's glad Peter left quickly.

The door flies open, and Martin jumps to his feet so abruptly that the chair he was sitting on tumbles to the floor.

"What- Gerard? What are you doing here?" Martin asks angrily, his heart beating madly in his throat. "Peter could've seen you!"

"I waited until he left, Martin, I'm not an idiot." The man rolls his eyes as he closes and locks the door behind him. Martin isn't sure it would be enough to stop Peter from coming in through the Lonely, but it's something.

"So what, were you eavesdropping?" Now that the shock is starting to pass, Martin is steadily moving towards annoyance in the spectrum of emotion. He told Gerard he didn't want him messing with his business, and yet here he is, just-

"You still look a bit gray," Gerard comments, coming to sit across Martin's desk like they had a freaking appointment. "You know what he said was bullshit, don't you?"

"He said a lot of things," Martin mumbles as he picks his chair back up and sits under Gerard's heavy gaze.

"There we go again." Gerard rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes are a beautiful color, Martin notices -if he still felt anything when writing his poetry, he'd be inclined to find a suitable comparison- and they couldn't be more different from Peter's. Gerard is actually looking at him, instead of through him, like Peter does. "Are you always this stubborn?"

"Excuse me? I'm not- you're the one who broke in here!" Martin sputters indignantly. "After I told you very clearly that I didn't want your help. If anyone is stubborn, that's-"

"The door was unlocked. Next time you want to be alone, check that first." Gerard shrugs, leaning backwards on his chair until the front legs lift off the floor.

Martin rolls his eyes. "Would it have stopped you?"

"For about five minutes." The man gives him a smug smile that fits his face like a glove, a handsome, mischievous troublemaker that takes far too much pride on the admission. "You look better now."

Martin grumbles, shoving the tape towards him across the desk's polished surface. "Here. Dekker's statement."

"What did you make of it?" The chair's legs land heavily against the floor, and Gerard reaches to take the tape and shove it in his jacket's pocket.

"It's... very odd. It feels like the Spiral, the Lonely and the End all rolled into one, with a side of the Stranger to boot." Martin worries at his bottom lip, frowning. His thoughts as he puts them into words are slow like dripping treacle, like waking up on a cold morning, but he can feel with no room for uncertainty that they're his thoughts, not the Lonely's. "I'm- I don't know if it is a new power, but I- the fears don't usually interact like that, do they?"

"Not really. They're more likely to fight over territory than to share it." Gerard's face is thoughtful when Martin lifts his gaze to look for answers there. "Sometimes they get along if their domains overlap. I've seen the Forsaken mix with the Vast and the Buried, but never at the same time because those two are opposites. The more entities that try to get in the mix, the more likely it is to fail."

"Hm. So? New kid in town?"

"I'll have to listen to it. I'm not exactly thrilled by the idea, though." Gerard sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck in a slow, deliberate movement that belies his exhaustion. "But it's not out of the question."

"H-how's Jon?" Martin blurts out. Gerard's mouth twitches, and Martin clears his throat, looking pointedly away.

"He's... better. I don't think anyone's left the coffin before, so it's not like we have much to compare his progress to. Got a nice new mark out of it, of course. We're this close to completing the card."

"The what?"

"It's just something I- " Gerard blinks, a confused frown coming to rest at his face all of a sudden. "...Something I thought of."

"...Yes?" Martin arches an eyebrow, but Gerard's frown only grows more pronounced when he shuts his eyes tight, as if trying to focus on a though- "Oh. Oh, you're bleeding again!"

Martin goes rustling frantically around in his desk, until he finds a box of paper tissues. The black ink dripping down steadily from Gerard's nose still hasn't slowed down by the time he looks back up, offering the box.

"Her- grab one. Jesus, what happened?"

"I-" Gerard opens his eyes again, and one of them has popped a blood vessel, it seems, the black startling against the white and blue as he reaches to pull a tissue free. "The Eye didn't like that too much."

"It didn't like what specifically?"

Gerard gives him a dubious look. "I don't-"

"Oh, no. You have to tell me now." Martin scowls as fiercely as he can, ignoring the heat on his face when Gerard raises an eyebrow.

"Excuse me? I have to?"

"Of course you do! You can't just barge in here and- and expect me to give you all I know and then not tell me anything!"

"You continue to not be what I expected, Martin," Gerard says in a flat, annoyed tone. Good. "It's got something to do with the marks. He's- he has twelve of them already."

"That's- wow. That's a lot of them." Martin blinks. He's aware -oh, he is so aware- of Jon's brushes with the entities, but it never occurred to him to actually sit down and figure which he hasn't encountered yet. It never felt important, for some reason. Peter's voice echoes in his mind. You should be careful with that. Could be dangerous.

"And he's getting them in the weirdest ways too, like-"

"Is there a normal way to be marked by a fear god?" Martin interrupts, only to be pinned down by Gerard's unimpressed stare. He snorts. "Sorry, sorry. You were saying?"

"Well, yes. I was there when he Knew about the bullet in Melanie's leg. It was a tidbit from the Eye. And then- why did that Stranger bloke bring the coffin here?" Gerard frowns, and ink starts running down from his other nostril as well. "Ah, fuck."

"Yes, maybe- we should stop for now." Martin gives the box of tissues another push. "I really don't want to go looking for Jon because you bled out in my office."

"Would be hard to explain, huh?" Gerard tears a handful of tissues out, before climbing to his feet. "We'll listen to the tape. I'll-"

"Wait- we?"

"I'm not going to lie to him," Gerard shrugs. "Besides, it will make him... not happy, but at least he'll have news of you."

"Very considerate," Martin says dryly. It's an abrupt reminder that they might be doing this out of love for the same man, but they're not friends. Still, Jon deserves nice things, even if Martin can't be the one to give them to him. "What?" He asks, when he zones back in and finds Gerard still looking at him thoughtfully.

"He really does care. Lukas knows how to come at you; don't let him." Gerard opens the door, halfway out already before he pokes his head back in. "Don't call the Lonely back in yet, give yourself a break, will you?"

He's gone before Martin can answer, and he sighs. This is getting so much more difficult than he thought it would be.

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

"-statement ends." Jon clicks the recorder off and places it on his improvised desk, before turning to look at Daisy. "The Flesh continues to be... puzzling, to say the least."

"Nasty," Daisy agrees without looking away from her phone. The tape recorder slides a little on his stomach when she shifts to make her head more comfortable on Jon's thigh. "Are vampires from the Flesh?"

Jon leans back, resting his head against the wall as the Knowledge starts pressing against his mind. "Yes. Bit of the Hunt too. And a little Stranger. They're quite a mess." He shifts too, the hardwood floor of his office punishing on his tailbone.

"Want to switch?" Daisy asks, already halfway through sitting up.

"I'm alright." Jon slides down instead. "It's almost time to leave anyways, Gerry will be here soon."

"I met him the other day. He seems nice." Daisy lays back next to him. Jon slides his hand under her forearm, just to have an additional point of contact, and she tangles their fingers together.

"He is," Jon says quietly. Daisy, who is not aligned with the Beholding but whose stare can still make you squirm, looks at him out the corner of her eye.

"What's up with that?" She asks after so long has gone by that Jon is starting to think he's safe. He lets out an exhalation that hopefully doesn't sound as exhausted as he is with this whole matter.

Gerry has ways been generous with his touch, a heavy hand on Jon's shoulder, around his wrist, on top of his head, but recently there's been the slightest moment of hesitation just before making contact, and Jon finds himself dreading it every time, without really knowing what outcome he fears more.

It definitely doesn't help that Jon is far too aware that no matter what Gerry may or may not feel, he did not choose to be here willingly, that even if he for some reason enjoys Jon's company, he's as much a prisoner to him as Jon himself is to the Eye.

"Nothing." Jon says, then adds sullenly. "I don't know."

Daisy squeezes his hand. "Martin?"

"I don't know." Jon turns his head away to avoid Daisy's gaze. "I- Daisy, I think there's bigger things to worry about."

"It's good to- I'm trying to think of the little things too." Daisy shrugs. "It feels like having a purpose."

Jon purses his lips. Sure, having a purpose is good and all until said purposes are self-sacrificing to a fear entity to keep you safe or behaving in an entirely too confusing manner.

"How's Basira?" He hasn't spoken much to her since that day after the statement. Jon gets the feeling she doesn't want to give him another chance to voice those thoughts she doesn't pride herself on.

Daisy sighs. "She's- it's okay. We're together, so it's fine. I just-" her voice falters a little, and Jon turns back to face her, squeezes her hand in reassurance. "I know I'm not what she needed."

Jon doesn't do her the disservice of trying to offer advice; the nuances of their relationship are something he doesn't want to intrude on. Instead, he tugs softly on her hand.

"I think we have time for an episode or two, if you're up for it."

Daisy's chapped lips twitch with humor. "I thought you didn't like it."

Jon snorts; no need for an Eye membership to see that, then. "It's- charmingly simple, I suppose."

"You don't get to back out," she says, lifting Jon's hand in hers to tap at her phone.

"Fine. But I will comment on it." Jon mock-scowls as the opening notes of The Archers' intro start playing.

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

"Want some coffee?" Gerry asks as he locks the door to the flat behind him.

"That sounds nice," Jon mutters. His voice is distracted and somewhat annoyed, and Gerry turns to see him struggling with the very last button of his coat. The burned hand must be aching more than usual, because he's not even trying to use it. "Uh- could you-"

"On it," Gerry nudges Jon's hand away gently, before easily sliding the button through the hole. "You're... good." Jon's large, dark eyes are glued to him when he looks up, awfully closer than he expected.

"Yes, I- thank you." After a moment's hesitation Jon's hands slide under his again to grab at the coat's lapels, and he steps away as he shrugs it off.

Gerry sighs, taking his own jacket off. This tension is ridiculous, he thinks as he watches Jon make a beeline for his bedroom. It's not- Gerry's far too aware of the situation with Martin. The tape he's carried around in his jacket for the past two days can attest to that, so no, he's not planning on making a move on Jon without at least a conversation. But he can't- it's not like he can just pretend he doesn't want Jon. Not after the Buried, not after thinking he lost him, and all the revelations that stemmed from that.

And speaking of the tape...

He hasn't brought himself around to listening to it, the hard corners digging at his ribs where his heart should be. Gerry's not so blind as to not realize this is selfishness on his part, a futile attempt to keep up this false normalcy they have found for themselves.

It's not fair for Jon, after Gerry made him promise to not keep secrets, but most of all it's not fair to Martin, who Gerry has very much decided he misjudged.

"We should- there's something I have for us. That we should listen to," he says once he goes back to the living room. He hands Jon -who has already changed into night clothes and is balled up at one end of the sofa- the two steaming mugs. "Here. I'll be right back."

Jon's eyes narrow in suspicion when Gerry comes back with the tape recorder. "What is that?" Gerry sits next to him on the sofa, stalling for time. "Gerry..."

With the kind of relationship he has with Jon, there's probably not a good way or time of saying 'I really like the way you say my name', but considering the news he's about to give, Gerry's willing to bet this would be one of the worst.

"I spoke to Martin." He says hurriedly, instead.

"You what?" Jon's eyes go wide, and Gerry lifts a hand in an appeasing motion.

"Yes, when- I went to look for him when you went into the Buried."

"I- why would you do that?!" Jon asks, his voice strained.

"Let me see, because I found out you'd fatally misunderstood the concept of anchors, and I thought he might have a better chance at getting you back than a rib." Gerry finds himself growing more agitated as he speaks, the light compulsion bringing forth more than just words. "A rib. Jon what were you think-"

"You said you'd stop bringing that up," Jon cuts him sullenly, his brow furrowed as he straightens up to shove a finger into Gerry's chest. "You said a man used quiche as his anchor!"

"It was not about the quiche, I thought you'd understood that!" Gerry clamps a hand down on Jon's to yank it away from his torso as he leans forward. "How was I supposed to know- a rib!"

"Well-" Jon snaps angrily, inches from Gerry's face. "Next time-"

"Next- there is not going to be a next time, Jon! You're not going into any more entities without me," Gerry blurts out. Jon's face goes carefully blank, and they stay there for a moment, breathing heavily in agitation. "Jon-"

"What- the tape." Jon sits back, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping an arm around them. "What's in it?"

Gerry groans, sitting back as well. Stupid.

"It's... let's just listen to it," he says before pressing the play button.

"Right. Martin Blackwood, archi- assistant to Peter Lukas, head of the Magnus Institute."

Jon grows more and more stiff with each passing second, and Gerry purses his lips in thought. This is probably the most Jon has heard of Martin in months, and the content could hardly be worse.

"Hey, I..." Gerry sighs. Jon doesn't look at him, and Gerry notices with a start that his eyes are starting to glow a faint green. More information to the Archive, then, whether Jon wants the knowledge or not.

He reaches over to lay a comforting arm across Jon's shoulders, pulling him lightly towards him, and Jon -surprisingly, terrifyingly- comes. It doesn't make Martin's words any less dreadful, but it does make it easier to listen to, knowing they're not alone.

"What- what happened after?" Jon asks after the tape clicks to an end. Gerry didn't miss how his posture against him grew stiff again at the subtle abuse Lukas flung to Martin after the statement. He'd known that was a possibility, but he'd also known Jon wouldn't let him stop the tape before it was over.

"I waited until Lukas left, locked us into his office and pissed him off until he was more human." Gerry shrugs. "Then we talked."

"Please don't antagonize Martin," Jon mutters softly, running his pointer finger over the edge of the tape in a gesture that seems almost intimate, and that Gerry very much doubts is meant for the device.

"All interaction helps, when he's like this. Especially if it turns out he wants to engage back, and trust me, he wanted to argue with me."

"That's because you are irritating," Jon huffs, and Gerry snorts a little.

"Beholding hasn't told you where it hid the return receipt?"

Jon's hand slaps softly against Gerry's chest. "What else?"

"Not much. After- I reminded him that you care about him. When he was more himself," Gerry adds, giving Jon's shoulders a light squeeze. "He even listened, I think." Jon frowns, quiet and contemplative for a moment that stretches for entirely too long. "Does it help? To know he's doing this for a reason?" Gerry asks

'Does it help to know you're loved?' he doesn't add.

Jon sighs.

"Somewhat. I just- leaving my personal- what are we going to do about this?" Jon asks. "This new- we have our hands full with the regular ones already, but a new one?"

"Is the Eye telling you something about it?" Gerry watches his face carefully, but his eyes are already back to their usual, comforting dark hue, and Jon shakes his head.

"Suspiciously quiet, if you ask me." Jon looks up at him, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Does it ever tell you anything?"

Gerry thinks of the marks all over Jon's soul, and the screeching static that came from trying to Know about them.

"Sometimes. I try to pay more attention to what it doesn't want to tell me."

"And what is that?"

"There's something about your marks," Gerry says slowly, trying to pinpoint the exact piece of information that the Watcher doesn't want him to focus on. "I think there's a reason you're getting- oh, there we go."

"Wh- Gerry!" Jon springs from the sofa, leaving Gerry's side uncomfortably empty as he darts into the bathroom. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back to keep the ink flowing from his nose from making a bigger mess. Done with Eye business for the night, it seems.

"It doesn't hurt," Gerry shrugs after Jon comes back with a handful of bunched up toilet paper. "You're a cheapskate, Martin had tissues."

"You're ridiculous," Jon huffs, pressing the paper carefully against Gerry's face. "Should I- I'll get something to read, that'll fix it. Hold this."

"Nah." Gerry makes no move to take over holding the toilet paper under his nose, cracking an eye open instead to find Jon hovering over him with concern clear on his face. "Just talk to me. I like it better."

"I-" Jon's cheeks go a few shades darker, and Gerry feels his mouth twitch into a smile. "Uh- alright. What- Gerry, I'm really bad at small talk."

"Then don't do small talk," Gerry shrugs. "Tell me... oh, tell me about when you broke into Getrude's flat."

"W- how did you know about that?!" Jon gapes, his face red with embarrassment. He could get used to this, Gerry thinks.

"Had a lot to listen to when you went to pick up Daisy. Supplemental Jon sounds like a fun fella," Gerry adds with a wink, and Jon sputters like an angry kettle.

He could definitely get used to this.

#jongerrymartin #illicio #vit writes #j/g/m

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5-secondsofcolor · 5 years

Text

C.H.|| Hopes Up

Summary: Are they or are they not? An inbetween blurb with Calum inspired by H.E.R.’s Hopes Up. 1.2k words

Warnings: None

“Pick me up? I'm in California. Leaving tonight.” She knows Calum will respond. She also knows she shouldn't; she used to just chase in lust but lately, it’s hard to tell it apart. It’s dangerous; It won’t be long before one of them gets their hopes up. Too late to avoid attachment, that’s for sure. It's been nearly a year since this all started and the entire country doesn’t stop them from the same texts. “I’m on your coast” every time one of them makes the trip. Neither are yet to say they’re too busy.

“At breakfast with Ash,1 pm work?”

“Yeah.” She responds before getting out of bed to get dressed. She attaches her location, knowing he'll take care of the rest.

He's there a little early, placing his hand on her leg as soon as she sit in his car. She fights a smile at the familiar warmth of his hand. Instead staring out the window thinking back to how the whole thing started.

She was volunteered onto a shoot with the boys. Barely a PA, she had little control over what she got to work on and one day the call sheet said, ‘5SOS’ along the top. Apprehensive at first, she was surprised when the young men walked in. They all looked about her age. All the boys were sweet but she noticed Calum was particularly quiet. He shifted and fidgeted so much she had to readjust his microphone various times during filming. She didn’t speak to him until they took their first break.

“It's easier to be on camera if you focus on speaking to a single person,” She said to him as She adjust the microphone on his shirt. “Do you need anything? Water? Smoke break?”

“No, I'm good. Thank you.” He said with a small smile.

“Ok, I'm gonna bring you guys all a round of water bottles anyway,” She returns with four water bottles handing one to each of the boys. “Here fidget with this, the mics won't pick it up. Just promise to give it back later, it's my favorite,” She hands him one of her rings. He nods and offers a timid smiles as he turns it over in his hand. A Möbius strip, a surface with only one side. No matter the fact that it looked like two, it was always bound to meet.

“Hey, thank you for earlier.” Calum hands back the ring.

“Thanks,” she answers continuing to pack up microphones from the shoot, paying careful attention to the way he lingers a moment before finally speaking again, “I didn't catch your name?”

“Y/N. Calum, right?” She asks offering him a hand.

“Yeah,” He shakes her hand. Knowing he needs to go but something won’t let him turn away, “Hey, you happen to know any good places to go for a drink tonight?”

She knew almost immediately she was attracted to him but never realized it would hold still, become a long-term thing. As she built her career, she found herself traveling to LA semi-frequently; little did she think it would begin to lead back to him. it’s been nice to have a familiar bed in a different city. Regardless of the familiarity, she plays her cards close to the chest, making sure she always waits until her last day in town before texting him. Careful that neither of them would have time to get too comfortable.

“You all mine today?” He asks, moving his hand higher up her thigh. Snapping her back into California, his car, their moment.

“I'll see what I can do,” she responds feeling a shiver run down her spine as his hand settles between her thighs.

They barely make it into his house before he’s got her pressed against the front door. Calum quickly closes the distance between them. She can feel the heat, the hunger behind his lips immediately. Taking off his shirt and he immediately pulls her closer, she grabs his groin, feeling the hardness in his sweats already. “You all mine today?” Voice sweet as honey, he could’ve taken her right where she stands but where’s the fun in that?

“Room now.” He orders voice low, raspy; more than happy to oblige, she starts the walk back to his room, tossing her shirt back at him on her way down the hall. A smirk growing knowing he’s already losing it at the sight of her.

—

She turns over to face Calum, unsure when they fell asleep. He's asleep on his stomach, a hand outstretched towards her. She takes advantage of the lull in their day together. Taking the time to check into her flight, make sure her emails are up to date.

“You should change your flight, we can do that some more.” Calum says, turning onto his back with a stretch.

“I’m needed in the office first thing Monday. Don't get your hopes up,” she moves over to straddle him. her knees on either side of his thighs, their hips aligned. He’s props himself onto his elbows and presses his lips on hers, gently this time. The immediacy is now gone as they take their time with lazy kisses.

He takes her hand into his, “You still have that ring.” He slips the same ring off her finger to get a closer look at it. She can't help but notice how well the gold ring complimented both their brown skin; her own a few shades darker than his.

“Yup,” She tries to kiss him again. Instead moving to lay beside him when he’s not responsive; she can see him focused on the band held between his fingers, running his thumb over it gently as he takes in the engraving inside it; ‘Become’ it reads inside. It was the first thing that truly made him pause when he first met her.

“It’s a Mobius ring. Nerd stuff.” she explains briefly, not wanting to give any more information on it; never offering an explanation for the engraving. Worn it nearly everyday for years, he felt oddly attached to the ring. Such a small thing, it’s seen her through moves, graduations, separations, and more changes than a lot of friends but Calum doesn’t need to know that.

She stares up at his face and remembers why she trusted him to begin with. He has a strong profile, but when he smiles, his face always softens. Little crinkles forming on the sides of his eyes and his eyes light up. She starts biting on her nails knowing it would be time to go soon. Don't get your hopes up, sometimes she needs the reminder too.

“It only has one side, one edge. Connecting everything. Becoming one,” Something in the way he says it catches her attention. There’s something more there but she ignores it. It won’t matter what he’s getting at; her flight leaves at 10:40.

“Yeah.”

The curiosity has hit them both, would something more work? The question will remain unsaid. The fact that we’ve made it this far is a genuine surprise but it didn’t mean more. She reminds herself the rest of the afternoon

She leaves his house for the airport soon after a takeout dinner. Promising herself it is the last time seeing him as she feels anxiety rising. Subconsciously she reaches for her hand to adjust her ring and finds the hand is empty. Her stomach sinking as she pulls out her phone to find a text from Calum already there.

“I’ll be on the East Coast Friday. Finishing interviews at 6. Pick us up?” Attached is a picture of her ring on his chain.

#calum hood #ch #calum blurb #calum hood blurbs #calum hood blurb #blurb #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos blurb #5 seconds of summer blurb #5 seconds of summer calum #ashton irwin #michael clifford #imagines #5sos imagines #5sos fan fiction #my writing #my-writing #luke hemmings

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indigosees · 4 years

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She Who Manifests

Fandom: Original work Character/s: Daiki Kwon, Anaïs Park

Author’s Note: Was actually their lore in someone’s Fantasy AU, though I believe this can be their own story if I so wish. Some other fantasy story of my own. And yes, I put them in a lot of different universes, lol. Lore behind this art.

It hurts… it hurts.

One moment, she was sitting idly in her throne, like how she has been for eternity. The next--her being, her existence, was being ripped at the seams and what the fuck is happening?! All she could do was scream as she felt what she has never felt before, not even once in her life: pain. It scratched and tore at her skin, her being, coming from all directions that she doesn't even know what to make of it and why it's happening.

There were loud noises--static and cymbals and drums banging in her ears and then everything feels like it's burning and she can't see anything and breathing fuels this chaos--

There was a voice. Soft, deep, smooth--a little familiar, but it spoke in quiet tones. She could barely make out what it was saying but when it stopped, she felt a bit more… whole. Stable. Her breathing wasn't as labored and it didn't hurt as much. But it still hurts.

Daiki circled around her, mesmerized. Her hair wasn't as pitch black as he saw them back then, but it was black all the same. Stopping right in front of her, he gently placed his hands on her shoulders. He spoke the final words to his chant, and noticed her shaking less than when she came into being, into this mortal realm. Finally, they did it. Finally, she can exist and live like anyone has , and experience life itself. It did come at a price of her losing her followers, though. All of them. After the ritual was performed, their collective belief, their flesh, and of course, their soul, was sacrificed to make her real. To make the Lady of the Void real. In the flesh, literally. It was a long shot, but it worked. He didn't think it would, and it may have just ended with a bunch of dead bodies and a kilometer radius crater at the face of the world.

Her existence would most likely cause some instability for the next couple weeks until he has stabilized her more. She would also need some time to adjust. He imagined it would be like teaching a toddler, only she's a full grown adult, physically. Maybe mentally, too. But emotionally? Oh man, it would be hilarious to see where her presumably lack of emotional stability would lead her. He has, of course, considered all the possible scenarios, though of course he has to work with it as they go along, as this has most likely never happened before. Angels and demons can have their mortal vessels anytime, easy, maybe some gods too as well. But when it was a god that has never been in the mortal realm and most likely lived in a realm that kept her almost nonexistent, the results tend to lean on the unexpected. All the more reason for him to believe that this was fated to happen. The stars and planets aligned for this night. "My lady," he began. "Can you hear me?"

The voice sounded garbled and muffled, she couldn't tell what it was saying. Her throat was dry and she had no idea if she could even speak.

He stared at her, waiting for a response. She sat motionless, her glazed eyes didn't even shift to look at him. Could she… even hear him? Huh. He wondered if she could see, or even speak. Ah. That was something he forgot to consider. Although, he was under the assumption that she will have all five working senses. But since she is the void… maybe one or two would not work as expected? He would have to see later, then. For now, he should carry her to safety. He managed to contain the blackhole she created so it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but soon enough a couple guards and maybe mages from nearby holds would be investigating the commotion. Carefully, he picks her up--she was quiet--and carries her in his arms.

It took her nearly 24 hours to begin talking, and a week to hold a full conversation. One thing he's sure of is that she is in constant pain and there's little he could do about it. It must be her inherent abilities clashing with the form she has taken. Still, he kept with his enchantments day and night, as apparently it helps alleviate some of the pain and speed up her adjustment process. All her senses are working fine, aside from the fact that more often than not, she hears random noises and sees dark spots in her vision. There are also instances when her voice is.. strikingly different. Sometimes, it sounded like the world yawned then began screeching like tortured harpies while croaking like a frog. It would have made him terrified of her, if he knew fear. Regardless, he made sure to keep notes of her behavior and how she feels about things.

He worked tirelessly to gather as much information as he can that could maybe help her. Meeting mages, reading books from cover to cover, and talking to cultists from other beliefs… he is exhausting all possible resources. He plans on searching old ruins as well, once she’s better. He has been quite vigilant about her possible decay, or other possible signs of illness. It’s so risky… letting her into this realm. If there’s one thing he knows of the Void, it’s that things happen in a snap, in a blink of an eye, in a millisecond, that no one really has the time to do anything, not even the Lady herself.

His worries came to life when he came home from the tavern, after chatting up some undeniably charming mages and adventurers, and she was nowhere to be seen. None of the runes he set up to alert him of her activity registered her leaving--in fact, it still thinks she’s in their residence. He was sure it worked. Did she find a way to circumvent it? Was she really more capable than he’s giving her credit for? Or maybe his runes are just fucking broken and useless and he shouldn’t have trusted them in the first place--

Fortunately he has made it so that he’d always know where she’d be. Always. The sigils he carved in her skin served a purpose: mostly to keep her contained. Although he knew it’s going to work without a hitch, as he has used it with the people that made a contract with him, he couldn’t help but feel frustrated at how long it’s taking him to feel her. For fuck’s sake… she better not have gone back to the void. Not now. Not when he has made so much progress. Not when she’s so close to fully integrating herself here. He made sure that wouldn’t happen through his rituals. But if tonight’s any indication, he may as well expect none of them works on her...

Shuffling through the darkest corners of the city, the intricate web he has built is unseen, and it helps him navigate around faster. Frankly, many individuals benefit from it, especially those sensitive to magic. No one knows how but they are thankful all the same in easily finding their way home, as the night can get quite dangerous even within the city walls.

Relief washes over him when he finally felt a response from her--and she’s outside the city what the fuck! How far did she go?! And how the hell did she get there?? He didn’t waste any time and flew as fast as he could to where she was. Standing on a cliff side. Looking at the stars.

“They are… less seen… here,” she said, then turned to him. “You have… seen them. The void.. has plenty.”

He wanted to be mad, he wanted to get angry. If she wanted to go somewhere, she should’ve just told him. But there are more pressing matters to tend to. “How did you get here?”

She blinked. Twice. “Here?” Her eyes wandered to the trees behind him, and the grass beneath them. “Here…” She looks up at him. “Blink. Here. From home.”

Teleportation? Well, if it’s magical in nature, his runes should still go off. Unless her magic is the kind it couldn’t detect, since hers is new… fuck the void, man. He sighed, at least she’s safe. “Please tell me if you’re going somewhere, next time.”

“Didn’t… mean to,” she looked back down at her feet, the grass crunching against her toes.

He pulled her in his arms, feeling her hair in his hands. She is warm. His chest swells knowing she’s here with him. He’s happy he could almost cry. “It’s fine. We’re learning. As long as you know how to get home.”

And then he was hugging the air. He could only hope she went home, but just to make sure, he tried to find her again in his mind.

“I thought… we are… going home,” she was back beside him again, which almost made him jump. “I’ll take longer than you,” he smiled.

She nodded. “I’ll wait.”

He is alone again, on the cliff side. Well, that presents a myriad of new possibilities. He would have to adjust home security and perhaps come up with a better way to find her. He could only assume, again, that it was the void that is making this so fucking hard for him. Really, he should be lauded for all the effort he’s doing.

In time. In time.

#original content #writing #daiki #anais #oc #fantasy #lady of the void

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nationalhoranleague · 4 years

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Two | Tomorrow

≫ Everly - Monday, October 26, 2015 ≪

"Casey!" Lillian screeched, tossing a green bean at my brother's face, hitting him smack-dab in the nose. "Don't be stupid!"

I glanced up at my father who sat with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at my two older siblings with a disapproving look. My mother sat next to him, her dainty hand trying to hide her smile. I always got a kick out of my parents, they were complete opposites, but they got along so well. You would think that after being with someone for thirty-three years that you would get tired of their antics, but my mother claimed to fall more and more in love with my father each day. I aimed for a relationship like theirs.

"How about you both stop being stupid?" My mother and I giggled as Casey and Lillian instantly stopped arguing to look at my father. Lillian settled back into her seat next to me while Casey wiped at his nose.

My father sighed and everyone was quiet for a moment, all of us eating, the only sound in the room was the clanking of silverware and the clock on the wall behind me ticking.

"Everly Grace," My mother addressed me, tapping on my plate with her fork. I swallowed and looked up at her. "How was practice today?"

I shrugged, now pushing chicken around on my plate. "Not great, I couldn't quite get out of my head today."

She sighed but shrugged her shoulders. "It's fine, it was only one practice, right?"

She had a point, it was only one practice. One bad practice is not the end of the world.

"You're always too hard on yourself, Ev," My dad chimed in. I looked up from my plate to see everyone's eyes on me. "Plus, you just had knee surgery in February, relax a little."

I felt my shoulders relax. My parents always knew how to find the right words to comfort me.

"Are the Penguins still practicing there?" Casey asked suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts. It was almost like he knew that I had done nothing all day but replay my practice and seeing Sidney again in my head.

"Uh, yeah, I think so," I responded, keeping my eyes downcast on my plate. "I don't think our practices overlap, though."

"Really? I read somewhere that Crosby likes to come to practice extra early, usually around the time you finish up." Did he already know? Had a straggling member of the media seen the two of us together?

I coughed, attempting to clear my throat. "Interesting, I'll have to keep an eye out for him."

I glanced up at Casey, who seemed to not know a thing about me seeing Sidney today. I exhaled and allowed my eyes to search for everyone's eyes at the table. Everyone had their view downcast on their food, except for my dad who was wiggling his eyebrows at me, a suggestive look on his face.

Oh, boy.

Because my mom made dinner, my dad had to wash the dishes. I offered to help him as Lillian and Casey made excuses about how much work they needed to do, or how they needed to call their out-of-town fiancées.

It was quiet between us for a while, my hands dunked in soapy water as he dried the plates I handed him. He cleared his throat after he heard my mom turn on a recorded episode of Chicago Fire.

"You're a bad liar you know? You have a tell." He teased, nudging his elbow into my ribs, as he looked over at me with a smirk.

"I do not have a tell!" I argued out, my voice still in a whisper.

My dad laughed, his laugh was hearty and warm and always made me feel safe. "You look at the ceiling,"

I groaned and refused to look over at my dad. A pregnant pause hung in the air. "We've met before," I started. "In Raleigh, Eric Staal introduced us a few years ago."

I looked up to gauge the look on his face. His graying eyebrows were knitted together. "Sidney?"

I nodded, making a piece of hair fall into my eyes. I attempted to blow it back into place. "Crosby," I confirmed.

"So, you saw him again today?" He asked, trying to keep his voice low and calm. My dad was born and raised in Pittsburgh and had been a Penguins fan for as long as he could remember. He absolutely adored Sidney, as a fan of the game, of course.

"Yeah, we met again," I confessed. "He's a really nice guy, you know?" He nodded.

"Yeah, I've heard," He agreed, as I handed him the last clean plate to dry and put away.

"He, uh," I pulled the drain stop from the sink and shook my hands, watching the droplets of water fly from my fingertips and onto the window in front of me. I looked over at my father as I dried my hands, his eyes looked like they were ready to pop out of his head. "He's giving us tickets for tomorrow's game."

"Us?" My dad could barely get the word out.

"Yes, us," I responded, hanging up the dish towel to dry. "Me, you, and mom," I confirmed, causing a wide smile to come across his face.

"Can I meet him?" He was so quiet I almost didn't hear him over the dishes he was putting away clanking together.

I smiled. "I'm sure we can work something out." My dad nodded his head, clearly trying to keep calm. "But, we keep this a secret, between the three of us, deal?"

My dad continued to nod his head eagerly. "Of course." He pulled me into his arms for a hug and I got a strong whiff of his Tim McGraw cologne that he's been using since my mother bought it for him in 2008. "Have I ever told you-you're my favorite daughter?" I laughed but, nodded regardless. It was no secret.

I had just begun to doze off when my phone lit up on my bedside table next to me, the vibration against the wood startling me.

It was so nice meeting you for real today!

Hey! Thanks again for the tickets, Sid!

Anytime. They'll be at will call under my name, they'll ask for your ID, but other than that, you should be all set.

:) We're all so excited! Can't wait to see you tomorrow!

Speaking of which, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to meet for lunch tomorrow before the game?

I would love to! Keep me updated on a time, I can meet you wherever and whenever I'm just unpacking my boxes tomorrow.

Meet me at the Iceoplex around 11?

That's great! See you tomorrow!

See you tomorrow, Ev.

I went to sleep with a grin on my face.

≫ Tuesday, October 27, 2015 ≪

I was shaking as I turned into the Iceoplex parking lot. I had to pee and my nerves in preparation to see Sidney were running high. I was parked there for a minute, just staring at the huge sign in front of the building that read 'Official Training Center of the Pittsburgh Penguins and Olympian Everly Cassius', before I forced myself out of the car and into the cold building. A small part of me wanted to run back to my car and forget about my plans with Sidney all together, but another part of me, a larger, more confident part, wanted to see Sidney. The confident Everly carried me to the front desk of the Iceoplex.

A larger woman behind the desk looked up at me as I propped my arms onto the counter. "Oh, Everly!" She all but screeched before standing up and rushing to hug me.

"It's good to see you too, Rita," I said with a laugh, as she pulled away from me. Rita had been working at the Iceoplex for as long as I could remember, in fact, she taught one of my skating lessons when I was younger. "How are you?" I asked as she walked back around to the other side of the desk and sat down.

"I'm lovely, how are you? How does it feel to be back in the city?" Rita asked me before she quickly turned behind her to look through the window that opened to the ice.

"I'm missing the warm North Carolina weather, but there's no place like home, right? Feels so good to be back." I explained to her as I gazed onto the ice myself. Her eyes followed mine, and she chuckled slightly.

"It's not an open practice today, but I think I'll allow you to be an exception. They're nearly done anyway." Rita said as she tapped a pen on the desk twice before pointing at the entrance to the ice with it.

I smiled, offered a wave, and then walked past her desk and through the door into the spectator area of the rink. I walked down along the front side of the bleachers until I reached what was aligned with center ice and then climbed about four rows up.

There were three men standing on the ice, laughing rather loudly, as they spoke inaudible words to each other. Eventually, after a couple of minutes, they all settled down and slowly began to leave the ice one-by-one. The average-sized guy left the ice first, barely glancing at me as he passed by. Shortly thereafter came the tallest player who stopped just beside the set of bleachers I was perched upon and looked up at me.

"Here for Sid?" I narrowed my eyes but offered a small smile.

"Yeah," He grinned and tilted his head in the direction of the only person still on the ice.

"If he not done in twenty minutes, go get him." The second half of the 'Two-Headed Monster' grinned devilishly before winking at me and making his way down towards where I knew the Penguins' dressing room to be.

I turned my attention back to the scarred ice in front of me and watched as Sidney pushed around some pucks, shooting all but one into the back of the net. The rink was nearly silent, the only sound was of Sidney's skates rushing back and forth across the ice and the occasional puck hitting a pipe. I watched him for a bit, not paying attention to how long I'd been watching until I realized it was a quarter till noon. I hopped down the rows of bleachers and walked towards the goal he was shooting at.

"Hey!" I shouted, knocking on the glass between a set of his powerful shots. His head snapped up and he caught my eyes with his. "Wanna get some food?" He placed a grin on his face as he nodded and then motioned for me to meet him over by the bench door that would allow him to come off of the ice.

Sidney skated over to the bench door and came to a hockey stop, nearly snowing my legs. He pulled his helmet from his head and shook the sweat out of his hair. "Hey, hey, pretty lady." I could feel the blood rush to my cheeks. "How's your day going?"

I cleared my throat. "I can see it getting better,"

Sidney grinned like a three-year-old on Christmas morning. "Let me go get showered and changed and then we'll head out. Twenty minutes tops."

"But, you have to choose." Sidney all but whined, before popping a piece of his waffle into his mouth.

"I think Brendan Gallagher would be entertaining." I offered before taking a sip of my iced tea, which was definitely not sweet.

Sidney nodded, swallowing his bite of waffle. "Not bad, but I was thinking Tyler Seguin."

I laughed and shook my head. "He has some growing up to do first, plus, I don't really think he's looking to give up the bachelor life at the moment," I concluded with a nod of my head, making Sidney crack a smile at me. "We've gotta get a nice guy."

Sidney sat for a moment, watching his fork push his waffle around, sopping up the last bit of syrup on his plate. "Olli,"

"The little blonde Finnish kid? Number three?" Sidney nodded, before taking the last bite of his third waffle.

"He's the nicest guy, has a great back story. He'd be an amazing bachelor." Sidney decided and I nodded, agreeing with him. Bachelors with a backstory tend to be the best kind of bachelors.

"So, it's decided." I declared and Sidney nodded his head. "Do you have a favorite teammate?" The past hour and a half had gone just like this, barely finishing one conversation before starting another.

Sidney laughed and shook his head before pointing his fork at me. "Do you have a favorite sibling?"

I tilted my head and smirked. "Yes, my sister," I answered almost immediately.

Sidney snorted, and then widened his eyes and covered his mouth like he couldn't believe that he had just snorted. "Geno," He spoke, finally, muffing his answer with his hand.

I smiled, now pointing at him with my fork. "That was my guess,"

Sidney was standing on the opposite side of my car door with his arms crossed over one another on my rolled-down window, his sweatshirt hood pulled tightly over his ears. "So, I'll see you tonight?" He asked, grinning widely.

"For sure," I confirmed with a grin.

Sidney smiled at me. "I would like to meet your parents tonight if that's okay with you?"

I laughed, of course, it was okay with me. "Sid, they idolize you, they would love that. Thank you." He grinned, dropping his chin down onto his arms and looking up at me through his incredibly long eyelashes.

"Anytime." Sidney smiled and nonchalantly reached a hand inside my car to play with the buttons on my door, forcing my back windows to roll up and down. "I'm good with parents, you know?" He asked, lightly, making my cheeks flush even darker than before.

"Sidney, you could insult these people and they would thank you." I teased, causing Sidney to fall into a fit of laughter.

He shook his head and stood up straight as he finished laughing with me. "I-I need to get going, but I'll see you tonight." I nodded and he winked at me as he began to walk backward toward his car.

"Good luck, Captain," I called as I turned the key in the ignition and felt my engine turn over.

"Hey, with your beauty in the stands distracting me, I might just need it."

My cheeks were redder than a bunch of cherries, yet again.

Read Change on the Fly here!

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#change on the fly #sidney crosby #sidney crosby fanfiction #sidney crosby imagines #Sidney Crosby imagine #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #figure skating #love #romance #nhl imagine #sc87

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snowbellewells · 5 years

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Face to Face in the Broad Daylight: Chapter Four

I really can’t apologize enough for the long wait between chapters here. There all sorts of plausible excuses, but I’ve basically just fallen behind with starting back to school and getting into the teaching routine again. Hopefully, I won’t keep you waiting on this story so long again, and that you will still enjoy what I’ve cooked up this time around...

Also, I still don’t think it quite needs an M rating, but fair warning, Emma and Killian do get up to a bit of mischief on a stakeout...

Thanks again to @branlovestowrite for the gorgeous story banner; I continue to just love it and smile every time I add it to the chapter post. And to @cssns for inspiring so many wonderful stories and such a fun community outlet. I’m so glad it gave my little werewolf story an outlet and a reason for me to finally get down to business and commit to it the page!

~chapter four: sinister stirrings, signs of life

Gold did not allow his accomplice’s taunt to hang in the air for long; instead, speculation lit his serpentine eyes with cunning curiosity. “And just what is your price, Morgana? What is it that a powerful witch like you cannot simply conjure for yourself with ease?”

“I seek vengeance,” she bit out, tone icy cold with the fierce utterance. “For my father’s life, for my mother’s pain… and what I have lost to that ingrate King… Arthur of Camelot.” She spat the famed appellation, which most spoke in reverence, with a venom that momentarily surprised even the Dark One.

A knowing, secretive smile crept over his sharp face; no other words necessary for him to understand what drove her. He had after all seen the quest for revenge bring many a man and woman to his door, willing to take his wretched deals whatever the cost, and then meet their doom, or at least soul’s ruin. He and the would-have-been Duchess of Cornwall had much in common, and always had. Both believed the world to have slighted them, and both plotting, scheming, grasping every bit of what they felt was their due wherever they could. Perhaps she would grow a bit too desperate, and he could then be certain of the upper hand in their arrangement. He would simply watch and wait to see.

Morgana, on the other hand, was not idle, even as she finally handed the contained hat over to Gold and began to move around his shop with mild interest as he examined the token ravenously. Just as her former mentor sensed her fervent desire and impatience, the seething rage pushing her forward, she could also read his extreme confidence, his discounting of the worthy mind and abilities she had cultivated since the time he had known her well. He thought she would be easy to manipulate; powerful enough to provide the assistance he needed, but not a true threat to his own mastery of the exchange.

He misjudged both her magical strength - and her loyalty. She had learned that no one could be trusted but herself. Though she was willing to side with him while it proved beneficial, she would not sacrifice her own goal, nor confuse a healthy respect with true devotion. Rumplestiltskin foolishly believed her indebted to him, simply because he had discovered where to summon the hat from Merlin’s safekeeping. That mattered little when she was the one who had retrieved it; she was the one he had needed to complete his task. Their purposes were not truthfully as aligned as he thought, yet she felt no qualms at playing along until it was too late for even the Dark One himself to stop her or ruin her plans. He saw her as a willing and able pawn, and she would let him do so for the time being. As long as he gave her the hat as promised when he was done, and she could increase her power, take it back to Camelot, usurp Arthur, and gain her revenge, she cared little how Gold’s plan worked out. His power would be the first she would harness for her own devices - his and all the other Dark Ones who had come before - once the time was right.

“That seems only fair,” Rumplestiltskin spoke in his slick, indulgent tones that might fool someone who didn’t know him as well as Morgana did. Though neither fully trusted the other - nor any beyond themselves - the sorceror before her did seem near tittering with subdued malevolent glee. He really was an imp to his core, delighting in the fall of those who took might and control by vicious means, even if that downfall was not of his own making. “King Uther, Arthur’s father, did indeed wrong your family greatly.”

“I know that,” she snapped, eyes burning as they swung to his in sudden anger. “You needn’t recount the injustices! I remember them well.” Her fine, white hands clenched and unclenched, as her deceptively thin shoulders heaved. She was practically seething from every pore.

Unfazed, the Dark One stepped nearer, cradling his precious talisman in one hand as he wagged his forefinger at her teasingly. She wanted to snap the digit at its joint, but instead held her tongue stonily. “Easy there, Dearie,” Gold chided in his infuriating manner of jest. “Flying off the handle like that can lead to dangerous mistakes.” He winked at her before turning to leave, clearly unconcerned with her alone in his shop to wreck it if the desire took her.

Morgana’s voice rang out quickly, before he could vanish in a puff of his magic, stopping him with the sort of ringing command he couldn’t ignore. “Midnight, a week from now, when the moon is at its fullest… If you wish for my help, you will bring the Sorceror’s Hat to the lakeside when the lunar orbit reaches the zenith. We will perform the ceremony, and then the hat will be mine once it has served its purpose for you. Do we have an accord?”

“Certainly, certainly,” Gold chimed, and though his tone was soft and sibilant, Morgana could hear the eagerness, the urgency for his full freedom and command of his power running beneath. She wasn’t the only one whose need for retribution had them chomping at the bit.

All that remained, she considered saying as the bell tinkled after Rumplestiltskin’s exit, was to see who would allow their quest to be their undoing. Then, without another moment’s hesitation, she vanished from the spot as well in her own column of cobalt blue smoke.

~~***~~***~~***~~

Once again nighttime darkness reigned over the quiet streets of Storybrooke. The main street, lined with storefronts, the Sheriff’s station, and the cheerily butter-yellow Town Hall, was so still and calm by 9:30 that one might think the place either deserted or inhabited entirely by senior citizens, Emma thought with a wry shake of her head and exhaled breath as she sat watching the scene before them from her usual work parking space. Apparently, fairy tale characters exiled in the “real world” adhered to a similar early bird schedule. She was in the more roomy back seat of her Bug, not expecting to see much of anything that would require her to pull out quickly, and needing to sit somewhat turned in the seat to keep her eyes on Gold’s shop, a Thermos of hot chocolate on hand to warm her insides as the night grew more chilled, and Killian cuddled against her side assuringly, something in his lupine makeup keeping him always a few degrees warmer than the average human.

Reading her mild amusement as easily as he seemed to do with all her changes in mood and emotion, Killian leaned in to whisper against her ear, his scruffy whiskers raking deliciously across her cheek and neck. “What is it, Swan? Did I miss something humorous?”

Emma shook her head with a chuckle, swiveling a bit to look at his quirked brow and curious face more clearly. His crystalline, sea-blue eyes twinkled as if he could already anticipate her answer, and in that moment, Emma genuinely wanted nothing more than to kiss him senseless, plant little pecks all over his forehead and cheeks and chin, just for sitting there with her, for always being by her side, and for being her ridiculous, handsome, dependable companion, whatever new surprise or danger came their way. Though she managed to hold back the outburst of affection, she still couldn’t help the frisson of awareness that ran through her veins at his nearness, even while proceeding to answer his simple question. “No, nothing funny really, just thinking how there truly is no night life here. It’s not even ten o’clock, and there’s no one out on the street!”

“Aye,” Killian nodded conversationally in agreement. “You’ve a point there. Any port town in which the Jolly ever docked - regardless of how small or remote - was more lively than our little town currently.”

Both fell silent once more, eyes unavoidably drawn to the entrance of the darkened pawn shop, looking deceptively closed and shuttered,but nevertheless the reason they were sitting on the street in a stakeout and wondering whether or not they should trust the seeming peace of the night around them. “Exactly,” she smirked at his comment, against her better judgement leaning closer as she did. She could feel that the spark always burning between them, fanned by both recent interrupted assignations, was still simmering hotly, barely banked by more pressing concerns, and knew that the right sort of look or touch might well be all that was needed to set it aflame once more. And yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to resist.

Killian reacted just as she had hoped, his response to her invitation almost immediate, hand balancing him on the seat beside her as he leaned even closer than they had already been seated, his breath warming her forehead as he exhaled and his hook tracing a purposeful path up her jean-clad thigh. “Looking for a bit more excitement, are you Darling?” he questioned devilishly, his lips and tongue pronouncing each sound and syllable of the words in a manner that left tingles racing up and down her spine.

The intentional progress of his metal appendage swung inward to trace along her pants inseam, ever closer to the goal, and Emma swallowed hard, irrationally embarrassed that he might already feel the heat radiating from her center and how her pulse seemed to be throbbing there noticeably. It was all she could do not to start shedding layers and crawl into his lap. She could only nod eagerly for several tensely heated seconds before finally affirming breathily. “What if I am, Pirate? Are you gonna do something about it?”

Killian’s heavy, dark eyebrows practically danced across his forehead merrily, as if she’d given him a present with her challenge. The tip of his wicked tongue poked from between his full, tempting lips before tracing along the lower one as if he had just glimpsed a meal her wanted to devour. “Oh, you know I will, Emma. Don’t you even doubt it.”

In the next instant, he seemed to pounce, his warm weight pressing her back against the leather upholstery of the Bug’s rear bench seat, as that tongue swept into her mouth to lay claim. The curved edge of his hook found its goal at last, putting delicious cool pressure against her still-clothed heated core and making her moan shamelessly into his mouth in return.

“Oh...Ki - Killian!... Please…. Ummm…” she raised her hips almost unconsciously, bucking toward his questing hook, and the added stimulation of his hand, which had now managed to slip under her shirt, up her side to her heaving chest. Emma forgot all about Gold, the newcomer, and why they were outside in her car at all, between the way his hand and hook were making her feel and his lips suddenly veering from her own to wander along her jaw back to the sensitive spot behind her ear, driving her even more out of her mind. She would swear under oath that she shouldn’t be held responsible when her desperately clutching hands pulled so hard at his shirt in her haste to touch him too and hold onto something to ground herself that she heard the sound of ripping fabric over her own gasp and whimper of need.

Not in the least disturbed by wardrobe damage - he had lost count of how many shirts and pants his wolf had destroyed in transformation ages ago - Killian merely chuckled with indulgent pride at the effect he was clearly having on his usually cool and collected girlfriend. It wasn’t lost on him that Emma rarely allowed herself to let go of control so completely. Splayed before him openly, eyes half-closed in bliss, Emma was offering him the trust and vulnerability few others received from her, and it awed him all the more beyond what her beauty had already accomplished. Not wanting the swell of emotion to derail them, now that they had at last managed to preserve a long enough moment alone, he bent his head back to the task before him. He nearly lost a handful of hair when a few seconds later he caught the lobe of her ear between his teeth and bit down playfully, not expecting the force with which Emma grasped the dark strands between her fingers as she keened breathlessly.

The wicked smile that quirked his lips as he murmured into her neck, “Feeling lively enough now?” was entirely unavoidable, if he did say so himself. For a moment, he allowed his mind to gloat inwardly as her pants seemed to indicate his Swan incapable of speech from his pleasurable ministrations.

Letting down one’s guard around Emma was never wise, however, as he was soon letting out an indecently loud and tormented groan of his own satisfaction. Somehow, while he had been occupied with tracing patterns over her collarbone with teeth and tongue, she had worked a clever hand into his tight jeans and dealt him more than enough taste of his own medicine.

“Ah! Wh- Swan…” he choked, his own head falling forward to rest on her shoulder as she squeezed and pumped delicately in the limited space she had to work with. “Mmm, love...easy does it,” he finally managed to grind out after riding the sensation for a minute. “Much more of that and you’ll bring the night to completion before I can finish what I started.”

Reluctantly his bold lass did release him and pull back slightly, one sculpted eyebrow arched in what could only be the beguilingly feminine equivalent of the look he had given her so many times before. “Can’t have that now, can we?” she teased gently, stroking along his stomach muscles, which quivered in response to her touch and practically smirking up at him.

“Certainly not, Love. It would be poor form indeed to leave a lady such as yourself unsatisfied.” He licked his lips salaciously, but meant every word, and the way she threw back her head with a wholehearted guffaw of laughter made him certain she knew it too.

“Well then, Captain,” she purred, pulling him in once more by the charms that hung around his neck. “Let’s see you make good on your word.”

Pressing forward with a deep, almost feral sounding growl, part his own desire and part his wolf within howling to break free, he lay her back unresistingly on the seat beneath them, spread out before him like a delectable banquet feast.

When they surfaced some time later, bare and skin glistening with sweat from their enjoyable activities, they had already missed both clouds of magic and the reappearance outside the shop of their new female nemesis - the reason they had been waiting in the car in the first place. Still, even if they had been less than purposeful, as they rested together, sated and entwined in each other’s arms, neither Emma nor Killian could bring themselves to mind.

~~~**~~~**~~~**~~~

After checking in with Emma and Killian at the station - and gathering a much clearer picture of how his deputy and her beau were progressing as a couple than he had needed or wished to have - making sure they had been alerted about the strange woman he had seen at daybreak, Graham was more than anxious to see his own lady love once more. Firstly, because he longed to be at her side, to see her happy, every second of each day that it was reasonably possible; a truly jarring sensation for a man who had up until that point led a quiet, solitary life and thought himself reasonably satisfied, but a sensation he had warmed to and treasured all the same. And secondly, knowing that she carried their pup - a child conceived of their love for each other - in her womb made the normal protective urges he already struggled to manage at normal levels exponentially stronger. To think that Gold still lurked around town and must wish to win - or coerce or steal - Belle back to himself worried Graham enough on a daily basis, but the attack on Granny and this obviously magical stranger’s appearance had him all the more on edge. No, Belle might argue that she was quite alright and could take care of herself, but he intended to stick quite close by whenever his duties as Sheriff allowed, and he might just speak to David and Snow about seeing if someone could stay nearby, just in case, when he could not. He would simply bear her annoyance and exasperation with his fussing as best he could; it was much better than seeing any harm come to her.

Letting his mind return to that morning, Graham thought back on how, after sighting the cloaked woman by the lake, he had hastened back to his cabin with extra speed, shifting on the porch back into his lanky human form so as to let himself in with ease and check on Belle where he had left her sleeping. The sight of her peaceful in repose beneath the moss-green cotton sheets upon the bed, her auburn hair spread out across the pillow, and the softest little purr of a snore escaping her pretty lips, had made him loathe to wake her.

Shirtless and barefoot, clad only in the grey sweatpants he slipped on for decency once human again, he padded across the smooth hardwood floor simply watching her sleep for a few seconds longer with an adoring smile on his face. He had never seen her look so serene, stunning in her sweet fragility, her petite beauty and kind nature concealing what he knew to be a backbone of strongest steel. Still, however much he hated to rouse her from much-needed rest, she had made him promise to take her with him back into town this morning. She was not content to hide out and wait passively until all was safe. And even if it was only researching information that might help prepare the rest of them for the storm they all knew was coming, or finding any accounts which might might better inform the two of them on the little one they were awaiting, she would not settle for anything less than doing her part, in her library, surrounded and aided by her beloved books.

Perching lightly on the mattress near her hip, Graham reached out a large, calloused hand, with a gentleness he hadn’t even known he possessed (having never known a tender touch until this tiny spitfire of a woman came into his life) lifted a loose strand of hair from her velvet-soft cheek and tucked it behind her ear. As he had known it would, even such a light touch had her stirring, beginning to stretch and slowly wake.

Now that his duties for the day were mostly complete, it eased his soul to once more slip into the cool, enveloping shadows and hushed, welcoming space of the town library. He could feel the taunt hunch of his shoulders relax within seconds of entering his love’s hallowed space, at the sound of Belle’s voice farther within the stacks, directing someone he could not yet see. Perhaps one of their friends had already had the same thoughts he did and undertaken to keep her company.

Venturing on silent feet, long accustomed to moving swiftly and without sound on the forest floors and castle courtyards of their old world, Graham stepped into one of the larger conference rooms toward the back of the library, one appointed with a large study table and numerous chairs for large groups. He leaned against the doorframe there, happy just to watch and enjoy the comfort and relief of once more being in her presence and seeing her in her element.

The Hatter in their world - Jefferson, Graham believed he went by here, was the first other person he saw. He recalled with a wince that this man had also been painfully manipulated by Regina - both in the Enchanted Forest past and their small town present. He knew with the same guilt-ridden certainty that he had realized Belle could have been freed from her imprisonment sooner if he had been quicker to awaken and act, that he had probably passed Jefferson on the steps of the mayoral mansion or in the frigid labyrinths of the Town Hall, but both had been too ashamed at being ensnared or indebted, or in some way under the command of the Evil Queen, to look up and meet the other’s eyes, to see a fellow sufferer or brother-in-arms. If nothing else, he reminded himself pushing off the doorjamb and moving into the well-lit and enlivened conversation humming around him, at least now he was beginning to see just how many friends there truly were here, as well as foes. Good people who could be relied upon and were hoping for the chance to regain their lives, just as much as he and Belle were.

His adorable librarian was chatting happily with both Jefferson’s daughter Grace and Henry, who were all too content with darting back and forth from the stacks for any book Belle could think of to request - all of them trying to keep her seated and off her feet. Coming to her side eagerly, Graham leaned over to kiss her cheek, even as she turned her head upward to greet him with a welcoming grin.

“It’s good to see you,” he whispered in her ear, letting his scruff tickle along her skin slightly, making her giggle and tuck her chin toward her chest.

Still, she caught his hand and squeezed it back affectionately, holding on and pulling it down to rest his palm over her still-flat stomach.

His brow furrowed, confused, even as she beamed at him to wait and be patient. It was much to early for him to be feeling any sort of movement from their little one; Belle wasn’t even showing. He was more than a little puzzled, and a bit concerned if the truth were told, but willing to humor her, and so stilled dutifully, waiting for he knew not what.

Then, abruptly, a definite jolt jarred his large hand from where it rested against Belle’s stomach. Eyes widening almost comically as they darted up to her face, he felt as much as saw Belle suck in an excited breath as she nodded her head in enthusiastic affirmation.

“Wait, but, it can’t be… It’s too soon…” he sputtered. “Are you sure? Should we take you to Whale? Are you hurting at all, Darling?”

The flow of words was almost more than she had ever heard her gentle huntsman say at once, but no more than she expected. Still, she tried to implore him in her gaze and the steady pressure on his hand to calm, that she had learned some things about her particular pregnancy and she would fill him in, but she wasn’t in pain, and she wasn’t concerned or frightened - though she had known he would be, for her. Guiding his hand still, she brought it to her lips to gently kiss the back of it, hoping to soothe him. She merely wanted to share this miracle with this precious man, the depth of her joy causing tears to well in her eyes.

They were still for several grounding moments, and when she lifted her gaze to meet Graham’s once more, she saw that same welling of love and astonishment in his eyes as well.

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @therooksshiningknight @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @resident-of-storybrooke @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @gingerchangeling @ilovemesomekillianjones @spartanguard @whimsicallyenchantedrose @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @darkcolinodonorgasm

#cssns 19 #cs au mc #cs werewolf au #face to face in the broad daylight #chapter four #graham x belle

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dlugo7-blog · 4 years

Text

Still Here.

Disclaimer:

I’ve seen so many wins and losses, both in my life and in others’, and I wanted to share my experiences from what was quite easily the toughest 365 I’ve ever faced. This isn’t to bring attention to myself, but more so to let you know that we’re all human. I hope you read this and it helps you somehow; whether you can relate or not, we’re all in this life stuff together. Be confident, be you, always.

It’s been… a while? Sure, the decade is coming to a close, and it’s great that many are reflecting on the last ten; however, I myself wanted to focus on this past year in particular.

Making decisions is inevitably a part of life that we eventually must tackle with confidence. The spectrum of decisions features endless possibilities: from black or white socks in the morning, to which job you should take, one is small, one is big, both are crucial.

I made a decision at the end of last year that changed my life forever. This decision was something that I never envisioned happening. When I say never, I mean not one millisecond did my mind wonder off into a state that featured this decision coming to life in any way, shape, or form. There were plenty of reasons that I didn’t think that a decision like this would ever have had to be made, but the main ones were the power in and faith of love, which I still possess to this day.

With that decision came the darkest days of my life, but opportunistic ones subsequently. I started a new position at Nike, which consisted of a three month “stretch assignment” as a part of the music team. I was primed and determined to obtain a corporate-level position after the 90 days because I knew that I had worked my ass off and was ready for the next step in life, but also partially because I needed the aforementioned next step for the sake of my own mental.

The first month was full of learning and growth; I was blessed yet again to rub shoulders and engage in conversation with some of the most creative, hard-working people that I had ever met. For my Nike vets out that made the choice to read this, I was just trying to be a sponge early on in the process. January was a blur, but it closed with me being asked, “is your schedule clear for the first week of February? We want you to go to LA.”

*cues “Bicken Back Being Bool”* The night before leaving, I had one of the toughest conversations I’ve ever had in my life; one that semi-clarified the direction in which my life was heading in. I’ll never forget the ride to the airport in the morning; I let it all out in that Uber while texting my inner circle. I told them that I was scared as fuck, in so many ways, but I thanked them for always keeping me afloat in midst of this life shit. I’ll say this until I am blue in the face, but you are only as strong as your support system. I’m often one to bottle up, but we’re all human at the end of the day, and I have no shame in admitting that. I boarded the plane, my brain scrambled, with my first solo work trip staring me in the face.

I landed in LA, arrived at my hotel, and walked into a room that was straight out of the movies. TV mounted on a pole in the middle that swerved whichever way you wanted it to, king-sized bed with a bathtub adjacent to it, and a mirror the size of a Manhattan skyscraper. The best part was the fruit platter that was assembled on the table, which had an envelope propped up against it that said “Mr. David *middle name* Lugo.” I felt like Hov, y’all. I can’t lie.

The trip was full of nothing but positivity. I’m forever grateful to the both East and West music teams for showing me an insurmountable amount of love throughout my time with them, but this trip in particular was something I’ll never forget. I got the opportunity to meet so many people in higher places, and experience things “on the other side.” I was ten feet away from Jorja as she performed, and I was never so close to losing a job in my life. That’s cap, but, what a moment that was. “If you asked this little kid from Brooklyn who had dreams of being in the MLB if he would be on a work trip in LA working in the music world, he would’ve looked at you like you were crazy. Thank you for taking a chance on me.” That’s the text I sent in gratitude at the conclusion of the trip. I meant every word.

Time passed, and I kept working hard, as always. I started to gain some traction, some momentum, both physically and mentally. Then, March 31st came. I’ll never forget being on Dave’s couch watching Duke and Michigan State when Ian stopped and said, “Not Nipsey, man.” I frantically refreshed Twitter, the only word I could utter was “fuck.” Thirty-three years old, shot and killed in front of what he built. He’s playing in the background as I type this now, and it still doesn’t seem real. I’ll never forget coming to work and talking to Kha about it. He said, “that’s so crazy, because you always tried to get me to listen to Nip.”

The next day was the start of my last week at the office. I barely spoke to anyone that day, because that shit hurt. It still does, there’s no way around it. Ironically, one of my close friends was getting married in LA that weekend. I’ll spare the details, but despite my hard work and determination those few months, the stars weren’t fully aligned yet, and there was no room for me to join the corporate team. The trip to celebrate love couldn’t have come at a better time.

I made my way out West, and it was bittersweet for obvious reasons: the decision to close out the last year, Nip’s death, not getting a permanent look at the office, and a variety of other life obstacles all weighed on me. We pulled up to Slauson to pay our respects, and hundreds of people were gathered to celebrate Hussle’s life. As emotional as it was, the love and energy that was there was truly special.

Wedding day came, and to see love at its’ peak was a beautiful thing. My friends were so happy to be joined in marriage; the company, the scenery, the aura, all of it was perfect. They even walked out to “U See Us,” and I was so gassed that I went and thanked them after. Nip blaring out of the speakers as they walked into the hall was something I didn’t expect. Full transparency, as gushingly happy as I was for everyone involved, I was selfishly sad a bit. Reflecting is great, but reminiscing isn’t always the same. A combination of the two made for a constant tug of war in my mind. As I sat in the airport waiting for my departing flight back home, I couldn’t help but think how this could’ve been me soon.

I got back home, hot to cold, literally. Back at the store, I felt trapped again. Creatively, I was fed up with my lack of progress due to circumstances that were out of my control. The one constant positive thing about that door was the people and the running community that was built there. I loved being that guy to round the troops up to go for a run after work, motivating others to join me regardless of their running experience.

A big step in my personal growth this year had a lot to do with running, as many of you may already know. I took it extremely serious, and developed a new passion that I never could’ve imagined coming to life. This new found passion allowed me to lead in a new way, inspire in a new way, and most importantly be happy in a new way. I am forever grateful for every single person that encouraged me, ran with me, or was involved in the journey that is still going to this day. I’m forever in debt to you all.

Skipping a few months of a routine cycle, which led to this.. Remember that opening paragraph about decisions? Well, I faced a pretty fucking massive one in July, when I stepped out of the box and bet on myself. Real quick, though, shout out to Roddy for a late contender for Song of the Year with “The Box.” Unbelievable.

Anyway, I felt stuck and decided to reach out to someone who had offered me some help a while back if I ever needed it, based on some work that I had done in the past. I took his word for it and set up a meeting. That meeting led to another meeting, which led to an interview, which led to a 90+ degree day in July. I was at Citi Field for Go Play Day with Nike, when I got a text from said person saying that he wanted to speak about a potential offer. I couldn’t take the call because I was occupied teaching first graders the proper fundamentals on how to field ground balls and step into their throws. Clearly more important. So serious, by the way.

The call happened the next day, and I was offered a job. Holding back tears like Will in The Pursuit of Happyness, I thanked the other end of the phone a million times, and the call ended. I broke down, my pals. The accumulation of hard work, persistence, struggle, pain, and everything you could imagine had brought me to this point. That’s where I’ve been since August, putting in some serious work with an All-Star team. I’m leading my own year long project, and doing the damn thing.

Damn, it’s been a while since I’ve written. I’m tired. I’ll use this paragraph to tell y’all some random facts about the year. Amanda and Darren had a baby, and Adonis is perfect. He’s a baby me, and I can’t wait to take him to the park. I went to Oregon and Seattle, went up to the Space Needle which was beast, and had a peaceful time exploring such a beautiful coast. I went to more of Ian’s plays because he’s a superstar. I ran with Dave because he realized I’m not trying to be a bodybuilder like he is, so to get him to run was like pulling teeth. Freddie Kitchens is the worst coach ever. I started going to church this year, and it’s one of the best decisions I’ve made in quite some time. I dyed my hair because, life? I got two tattoos, one of which has been years in the making and is an ode to Sade, Bob Ross, and myself. I fell in love with Snoh. I don’t know, a lot of shit happened.

To close out this damn near novel of the year, I want to say that I’m proud of myself. I’m still standing, and I didn’t know what to expect as I wrote this. It was emotional, without a doubt. I’ll continue to reflect, I’ll continue to reminisce, and I’ll continue to be human. I encourage you all to do the same. I’ll continue to walk in faith, and give all glory upstairs. I don’t really know how to close this, which is weird, but as I always say, love is love. Whether it’s to close out this decade, or to start the new one, make a decision. Right or wrong, have faith it’ll all work out. I still do.

- The Boy

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b-afterhours · 5 years

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Avenue of Sins (part seven)

summary: a story of two misfit kids from mid-west america making it big in the big apple. and in the true sense of the american dream they find themselves in a life of sex, money, drugs, and a little rock n roll too.

warnings: adult content, mature readers only.

if you’re seeing this for the first time you can read part one here and if you need to catch up on previous chapters go here.

series playlist

Alma stirred in bed discovering that she was alone despite the fact that Bill had fallen asleep with her that night. She scanned her room briefly in her sleepy fog only to see he was nowhere to be found. The only difference she discovered was that her bedroom door was slightly ajar and the smell of rosemary and garlic wafted into her room. It felt familiar yet she couldn’t remember exactly when the last time she smelt those homey aromas but it clued her in that Bill was in the kitchen cooking. She looked above her door, to the standard round clock mounted above thinking that it must have been dinner time but it was only just an hour afternoon. Propping herself up on her elbows, her head felt as if it weighed a ton. Even with the considerate amount of hours she slept, it wasn’t enough to stave off the terrible cocaine crash she was experiencing. Her mouth felt dry, feeling as rough as a cats tongue and her hair stuck to the back of her sweaty neck. She collapsed against the mattress wishing for a few more hours of needed sleep but she begrudgingly rolled out of bed with a growling stomach for a quick shower.

With wet hair and a long tartan button up and panties she met Bill in the kitchen where he was plating fettuccine noodles topped off with chunks of chicken breast that had been cooked in a creamy sun-dried tomato sauce. He gave her a winking glance with a cigarette perched between his lips. Even in just his trousers and white tank top, she found him looking as handsome as he’d ever been.

“Cooking?” She smiled leaning against the archway between the kitchen and the small dining room.

“Yup it’s been awhile,” he said nudging his head for her to follow as he took both of their plates to the dining table.

“It has… and what about the club?”

“We can be a little later than usual. I already gave Cooch and Theo a heads up.” Convincing Bill to give them keys to open the venue was a pain in the ass but it was nice to not have to be there early or rather in this case late and having to face their disgruntled employees as they waited outside for them. “Anyway, eat.” He said handing her a fork as she took a seat. “I made your favorite.”

She looked at him skeptically before wrapping her hand around the fork he held before her. “Everything is okay, right? You didn’t… did you?”

“What?” Bill shook his head. “No, not that. I just thought we’d have a meal that isn’t take-out or pizza for once.”

Alma nodded, stabbing her fork into her chicken. Honestly, regardless of how good it looked and how tasty she knew it was, she wasn’t very hungry but for his efforts, she dug in. Bill watched her twirl and twirl and twirl her fork full of noodles only to take small bites out of the mound she had accumulated on the tines. She had put a considerate dent into her meal but she couldn’t help but feel just a little ungrateful when she saw Bill’s plate nearly clean. Noticing, he was quick to suggest to save it for her as leftovers.

“Thanks,” she smiled appreciatively. “I’m gonna get dressed,” she pushed her chair across the linoleum floor but before heading off she stuck her thumb out to wipe away a speckle of sauce from his mustache. It was a courteous gesture but it was so loving. He wanted to kiss her, to wrap her in his arms yet he held back. They were both on the right foot again so he was cautious about derailing it by being too needy. After all, they had only made up the night before. Besides after last night, there was so much there that hadn’t been addressed and quite frankly he didn’t have the balls to. …

It was a quiet night at Trigger Finger XXX and although steady Alma sent half her staff home only leaving Praline, Raven, and Diego and unfortunately Craig – who charmingly convinced her to finish out his shift. She wondered when the hell Bill was going to kill him. One moment she was fine with him and the next she couldn’t stand his childish behavior but deep down she just felt sorry for him.

Portia had sauntered over to the bar after her set, digging into her cash pouch and gathering a few bills. “Could I get a tequila sunrise, sweets,” she asked.

She was wearing white daisy dukes and a southwestern styled fringe jacket with nothing underneath it was a total bite off Kansas western gig. She wasn’t a favorite among the dancers in the club since she often stole other girls bits piggybacking off their acts as a way to gain extra cash for herself. She didn’t need to, her usual noir film damsel act earned her enough money. Past her snobby attitude, she was insecure about her knobby knees and the hard edges of her body as she was not as filled out like the other girls were.

While Alma prepared the cocktail she reached for the decanter of orange juice only to discover it was empty. She turned her head towards Raven who had already taken notice biting her lip nervously. It was her job to make sure the bar was stocked and for it being a slow night there wasn’t a good excuse she could muster up.

“I’ll grab some from the back,” she said quickly. “And I’ll check everything else.”

Alma sighed, shaking her head as she drew a cigarette from her pack. “It’s gonna be a sec’,” she said to Portia muffled by the cigarette she held between her lips as she lit it. “Get off your feet I’ll have Raven bring your drink over to you.”

Portia slid her bills across the bar rolling her eyes and as soon as she turned her back Alma lifted a corner of her top lip, sneering at her attitude. She was feeling antsy for another bump and luckily Raven had swiftly come back with two cartons of juice in hand and finished Portia’s drink for herself.

“Sorry,” she said before her boss could sneak off. “I tried to fill the bottles earlier but Craig’s been in an out of the back room yelling on the damn phone.”

“Great,” Alma sighed blowing smoke. “Where is he now?”

“He’s still back there.”

“You went alone knowing he was back there?”

“Well, I couldn’t wait any longer...”

Alma put her finger up and took off stomping to the stock room. She couldn’t be pissed at Raven, she should have been watching him anyway. Near the very back, in the view between pillars of boxes, she spotted him repeatedly slamming the receiver into the wall mount on the verge of tears.

“Hey!?” She said flicking her cigarette to the floor causing embers skittering across the concrete floor.

“Shit,” he said blinking his tears away rapidly as he gained his composure. It was strange catching him having a human moment when he often hid behind an act of cocky arrogance which was hard to sympathize with.

“What’s going on? You can’t slam equipment around unless you plan to replace it.”

“Okay, okay,” he said putting his hands up defensively. “Sorry,” he said taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

“You can go home like I said you should earlier...”

“Not right now, I can’t go home right now.”

“I’m not telling you to go home. Where ever you go when you leave here isn’t my business,” she reached into her back pocket for her personal baggie of coke. “Do you mind?”

Craig simply shook his head. “Veronica, I mean, Blondie’s been giving me shit all day I don’t want to go home to a shit show, showdown you know...”

“Veronica.” Alma scoffed as she stuck her little finger in the pink baggie shoveling a mound out with her nail. “You know I gave her the name Blondie? Anyway, I don’t blame you I guess,” she snorted the powder, pinching her nose off briefly before digging in a second time. “But, you can’t spend your shift arguing with her on the club’s phone. Leave that bullshit at home.”

“Yeah...” Craig nodded, sighing as he looked terribly defeated. If he were fighting with anyone else besides Blondie maybe she would have lent her sympathies but she was too familiar with her pettiness that she couldn’t bring herself to. “She just gets really jealous sometimes. She’s pissed about me getting to see all the girls perform while I work.”

“Well… what does she expect this is a strip club?”

“Exactly! I asked her if she wanted me to work fucking blindfolded and she seriously said yes!”

Alma lightly laughed. “She’s fuckin’ nuts. You wanna bump? Feels rude not to ask even if it's you.”

Craig cracked a smile, “Well if you’re offering.” He took a few steps over to her where she leaned on shipment boxes and bent down aligning his nostril to her jutted out little finger. He smelled strongly of hair mousse but also she smelled the faint fresh musk of Acqua Di Gio, the same Bill wore. It was an expensive fragrance, she knew for a fact since she had bought it for Bill as a Christmas gift. No wonder he owed his cousins' so much money he was burning it all on himself. “Mm, thanks,” he said wiping his nose. “You know you guys have better shit than what my cousins have?”

“I’ve heard,” she smirked.

“If they wouldn’t cut it to hell maybe their clientele wouldn’t come scurrying here for any. I tell them all the time but they don’t listen.”

“Hm,” Alma nodded. “Well, we should probably head out now?”

“Right you mind if I get another though?” He said mussing the dark curls on his head into place.

What Alma and Craig hadn’t known was that while they were chatting in the stock room Blondie had come to the club waltzing in like a whirlwind looking for him. He had hung up in her face and she was going to tell him in person exactly how she felt about it. That was until Bill stood tall, looming from his high rise VIP section leering right at her in contempt. She wasn’t banned but she wasn’t necessarily welcomed either. She ignored him heading straight for the bar in her frenzy.

“What in the hell?” Cooch said to Bill who was talking business with him beforehand. “She’s not allowed here, right? Want me to get her out?”

“No, let me see what’s going on,” he told her. In a haste, he walked to the bar where Blondie was interrogating his staff on her boyfriends' whereabouts.

“Hey,” he said grabbing her by the arm. “What do you think you’re doing here, huh?”

She softened her features once in his presence. “Bill…” she sighed, smitten. “Oh, I uh-”

“I uh, what?” He mocked. “Come with me. We can talk in my office you’re making a fucking scene out here.”

As Bill pulled her to follow she pointed at Violet who was inviting a client to the private room below the loft. “I see you’ve gotten yourself another blonde bitch in here!”

“Go. Don’t make another fuckin’ peep,” he said pushing her towards the stairs.

“She’s not me though,” she grinned devilishly much to Bill’s annoyance.

When Bill closed the door behind him, he stood with his back towards it. He didn’t want to lead her further in giving her any ideas but it was all for naught when in an instant she was all over him. He began pushing her way but she pulled his arms around her body placing his hand on her bottom. Her dress was so short, he could feel the skin right on the crease where her ass and thigh met with his fingertips. She was a desperate, hopeless little thing for him.

“Blondie quit,” he said pulling his arms away again but not before he copped a feel. She groped him through his pants. Which made him coil back a bit when he initially thought she was going for his gun but the thought faded when he felt that familiar rousing he’d been missing for too long. Before he could give in to her touch he placed both of his hands on her shoulders shoving her away at arm's length. “I said stop.” Dejected Blondie shrugged his hands off and fluffed up her teased bleached to hell hair back in place. “I appreciate the enthusiasm but desperate doesn’t look good on you, dear.”

“Oh fuck this,” she groaned trying to push past him but he blocked the door.

“Why the hell are you here?”

“’Cause my boyfriend – who’s about to be my ex – is being a fuckin’ wise ass. He hung the phone up on-”

“Christ, that’s enough,” he said waving her off. “I don’t care what you and Craig have going on. You have to leave. I can’t have you in my club causing shit-”

“Or what you’re gonna take me out back and beat my ass too? Huh?”

“Fuck sake. Blondie you quit working here that was on you. Just because your boyfriend-”

“Ex.”

“Ex whatever works here. Who, might I add, is enough trouble on his own and we don’t need you adding to that, alright.”

“Well, I don’t like him working here seeing all these girls tits who hate me!”

“Take that up with his cousins then?” Blondie shook her head at that impossible thought. “Right, you wouldn’t dare.”

“So but – I don’t like that he works with Alma at the bar! Okay!? Can’t you put him on security or something Bill? Just not, with her.”

“I knew it,” Bill shook his head. “I fucking knew it but I’m not going to do shit about it. And I’m especially not about to talk about how I run my club with you.”

“Craig… I can’t trust him when it comes to other girls. You remember what he was doing to earn that ass-whoopin'.”

“And, what were you just doing as soon as I shut the door? I don’t think he’d be very happy to know you were touching my dick?”

“I-I just can’t help myself when it comes to you,” she feigned a pout. “I miss what we had,” she pressed her body along his.

“Stop.”

“I know… you only have eyes for... for her. But we had something? You can’t deny that.”

“Maybe you’d like to think that. But whatever it was, it’s over.”

“Are you sure though?” She pressed her self harder against him, smashing her tits on him pushing them to the verge of popping out her dress top.

“It’s time for you to leave. Deal with Craig at home,” he said reaching for the doorknob behind him and stepping aside for her to exit.

When they had reached the bottom step from the loft Alma and Craig had emerged from the stock room together laughing about something but it cut short. The four of them stopped dead in their tracks for a moment all observing each other, gauging the vibe. Alma looked from Bill to Blondie, blinking in disbelief before pulling her brows together and her top lip turning up slightly, perplexed yet disgusted. She could sense that Craig had done the same but despite all the accusations he could have thrown at his boss and his girlfriend he steered away from it instead, directing all his anger towards Blondie.

“Blondie what the fuck?” Craig said. “You come to my job looking for me really?”

Bill raised his hands up. “Enough. Craig, get off the clock and go home. Take her with you,” he said pointedly looking down at her.

“Come on baby. I missed you,” she said pouting up to him just as she was with Bill not even five minutes ago.

Craig swallowed hard looking like he was holding back a scream. He grabbed hold of her hand leading her out the club feeling pathetic, taking her back for what might have been the hundredth time. Bill leaned on the bar in front of Alma pulling a smoke from his pack, shaking his head.

“They’re a mess,” he said darkly laughing.

“Hundred percent. Looks like you got a taste of it before she left though,” she said flicking a spot just below the collar of his slate gray dress shirt. He looked down to a smudged pink lipstick print and rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t touch that bitch,” he said as he tried to dab it away with a cotton rag Alma had handed him. “I swear.”

Alma raised her brows. “She’s lucky.”

“What?”

“I was this close,” she said with her thumb and index centimeters apart, “to beating her ass.” ...

A day later Alma had stepped out buying cartons of orange juice from the bodega down the street from the club. Raven also failed to inform her that the two cartons she had gotten from the stock room was all the juice they had for the weekend. She couldn’t blame her, it was Alma’s fuck up too not realizing she forgot to add it to the restock list.

Lately, she felt that she was losing it, she was always on top things at work but not so much. She was feeling antsy, only thinking about her next cigarette, her next beer, or her next bump. And although she was high most of the time, she couldn’t even focus on what was important and when she came crashing down everything became foggy. She was overdoing it, she knew it. Maybe she had a problem – actually, she knew she had a problem but she took to an account that her life wasn’t crashing down because of it and that was enough to justify her habit even if by a little bit.

The bodega man, Kwame, a man with long amber brown dreadlocks meticulously stacked in a bun on his head and wrinkled cheeks was helping her fill a spare milk crate with all the juice she bought that would tie them over when the next shipment arrived Monday; while she snacked on a bag of plantain chips she grabbed from a rack by they counter adding it to her total.

“You need help carrying this? Please, take my nephew he will help,” he said pointing at his disinterested nephew who was sitting down watching a soccer match on a small buzzing tube tv set. Shooing away the orange bodega cat who was rubbing its head on his shin vying for his attention.

“I’m not too far, Kwame. He kinda looks busy anyway,” she winked, tucking her bag of chips in the crate and putting her half-smoked unlit cigarette between her teeth while perching the crate on her hip.

“Busy my ass!” She heard Kwame say as she pushed out the door with her shoulder.

She was halfway back struggling with the weight of the crate that only seemed to get heavier the closer she got to the club. When she heard someone call for her it felt all too familiar like deja vu. Only this time she was walking towards the club she now worked instead of away feeling crushed and hopeless when she first arrived in New York. And instead of Bill, she turned her head back and saw Craig jogging up to her, grabbing the crate from her arms.

“Shit that got heavy,” she said shaking out her arm. “But I could have carried it.”

“I know you could have,” he smirked.

“You seem to be in a better mood.”

“Eh,” he shrugged. “Better than usual I suppose?”

“Glad to get rid of your ex?”

“Ex? What? I haven’t broken up with Blondie?”

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“I, I just assumed after...” She didn’t mean to slip up but that night after Blondie stormed in, Bill told her all about their conversation in the loft before bed. “Nevermind.”

Craig walked backward, pushing the club door open while letting her in first. Bill was there at the bar with his paranoia creeping up on him once again when he saw them together. They seemed friendly in the way coworkers were but even that, was the last thing he wanted. Alma was all business and knew Craig had a target on his back but if she formed some type of attachment it could fuck everything up. Besides that, it bothered him knowing what type of person he was that she would even give him any time of day outside the usual work orders.

“Just in time,” Bill said stubbing out his cigarette out in a glass ashtray on the bar just as soon as Craig walked passed him with a nod. “We’ve got some important business.”

“Important?” She lifted a knowing eyebrow.

“To the loft, love,” he said placing an arm around her waist, his fingers grazing her tight jeaned ass.

Her heart pounded in her chest, it always happened when she was anticipating a romp with him. He knew her body so well, he could touch her here and caress her there and she melted in his hands like a strawberry swirl on a hot summers day, sticky and sweet.

They broke apart once they entered the loft, he took the lead towards his desk as her hands went to the top button of her jeans but stopped when he reached into his desk drawer pulling out the white land phone he kept hidden and placed it on top the desk while he sat. Her hands immediately snapped away from her waist, she felt silly for completely crossing his signals. She also found it peculiar, she was feeling desperate for his touch, didn’t he feel the same? It had been a while since they hooked up. She figured he might be getting it in with someone else but then with who? Her mind wandered briefly thinking maybe something did happen with him and Blondie the other night but it wasn’t like him to lie about something like that. Still, she wondered.

“I got a beep from Joey. I figured since we’re gonna be a team on this I’ll let you listen in on whatever the hell he has to say,” he said looking less than pleased with having to speak with a Russo.

“Oh shit...” she reached into his shirt pocket taking his pack of smokes as she sat on his desk next to him. “He’s probably wondering what’s the hold-up,” she said hushed before drawing on her cigarette.

“Maybe but I have some questions of my own.” He dialed on the receiver and held the phone to his ear as it rang.

Alma hunkered down a bit, putting her ear as close to the receiver as she could so that she could listen in. She smoked silently while they gave each other surprisingly pleasant greetings.

“Well, I’ve got two questions for you buddy,” Joey said.

“Well, I’ve got one for you first.”

“Go on.”

“I need Blondie gone.”

Alma whipped her head towards Bill, her lips apart in shock looking almost dumbfounded. Was he really asking the Russo’s to whack Blondie too? Of course, she didn’t like her whatsoever but not so much that she deserved to end up at the bottom of the Hudson.

“That, that was one of my questions… What the hell was she doing over there? She missed her set here and we put two and two together. Are you trying to pull some shit on us?”

“Pulling shit? No one’s pulling nothing but your favorite little cousin!”

“Alright, alright cool it. Those two are a fuckin’ mess, I know. She’s always crying about something in the dressing room every other night but I just wanna know what the hell compelled her to even step foot on your turf when she works for us now?”

Bill plucked Alma’s half-smoked cigarette from her fingers and took a long lung burning drag that he often did when he felt stress. “She’s got some issues with an employee of mine,” he said shifting his eyes at Alma briefly. “She gets jealous-”

“Does she!”

“She walked her happy ass in my club causing a scene interrogating my whole bar crew on whether he was cheating on her.”

“Christ, I see.”

“Now I’ll hold my end of the deal but I can’t have her starting shit when her beau goes missing. She goes snooping enough it’s your ass too.”

“You make a good point, I have to admit.”

“She’s a hellion. She gets under peoples skin for a fucking hobby.”

“I know you two had a thing. This certain employee though, it doesn’t so happen to be your girl Alma would it?”

“Alma?” She said harshly. Bill put his finger up for her to keep quiet but she shoved it away. “He knows my name?” He quickly cupped his hand around the speaking end of the phone to keep Joey from hearing her.

“Shut up,” he said through his teeth, brows raised. “You’re fine, okay?”

Alma huffed, “I guess...” she ripped the nearly gone cigarette from his fingers taking the last drag to the filter.

“Bill?”

“Sorry,” he began as he slid his hand away from the receiver, “the line must have crossed or somethin’. But yeah, unfortunately.”

“Hmm. I’ll talk to Batter about it but I’m sure we can get her out of your hair. Which leads me to my second question, when are you gonna get it done buddy?”

Alma turned to Bill with a look that said I-told-you-so. “As soon as Blondie’s a non-issue. I need him out of here as bad as y’all do.”

“Sounds good to me. How is he there by the way?”

“He doesn’t give me much trouble unless he brings personal bullshit from home here. But surprisingly, he’s not a bad employee.”

“Wow, you musta beat his ass real good cause he was worthless here,” Joey laughed. “Well then, I’ll give you beep on Blondie and you take it from there kid. Later.”

“Wait. Uh, may I ask what you’re gonna do to her.”

“Don’t worry about that. Worry about what you gotta do.” Click.

Alma sat back on the desk while she watched Bill light another cigarette, leaning back in his chair and hooking his other thumb in the front of his waistband.

“So that’s what was important? You’re ordering hits with our enemy?”

“I wasn’t necessarily ordering a hit. I just need her gone, however, that might be. I thought you’d be happy to hear that?”

“I am… but I’m not happy about racking up a body count now all of a sudden? One is okay but two-”

“One isn’t even okay, what are you even saying? How fucking high are you right now?”

Alma glowered at him, her lips hard pressed. “You got yourself into this shit Bill. I know one isn’t okay? But for as long as you’ve been running the show here and how cocky you can get you’re lucky it has now only been one!”

Bill rolled his eyes. “Remind me not to have you for any more calls then. If you want to act like that.”

“Fine then,” Alma shrugged. “Being left in the dark was heaven now that I look back. Frankly, when you said important business I thought you wanted to fuck,” she pushed off the desk and on to her feet to leave but he quickly sat up snatching her by the thigh pulling her back on to his lap.

“So,” he said sliding his hand up her warm thighs. The smoke from his cigarette wisping and whirling around them. The smell and the Acqua Di Gio he wore was making her dizzy. “That’s why you’ve been so wound tight, huh? You’ve been wanting me inside you?”

Alma bit her lip, shying away from the intensity of his eyes. She wanted him bad but being stubborn she shook her head.

“No?” He slid his hand as far as it could go, pressing her jeans against her pussy causing her to coil at his touch ever so slightly. “If I kissed you would you change your mind?” Her heart was thumping in her chest and all she could do was nod as she swallowed hard. Bill reached over to the corner of his desk, setting his cigarette down to give himself a free hand. “Do you want me to kiss you here,” he pointed at her lips, “or here?” He asked squeezing her with his other hand making her whimper. “Tell me what you want, baby girl?”

She responded by connecting her lips with his, kissing him feverishly while he still worked her through her jeans only this time she bucked her hips against his hand wanting more sensation than what the material would allow. She sucked on his tongue moaning as she did it until she slid off his lap and sat back on the desk in front of him shrugging off her leather jacket. He got to his feet trying to help her out of her sheer body suit but she stopped him.

“Wait you gotta unclasp it from the bottom first. Help me get these off,” she asked as she sucked in her belly struggling to get the ultra tight pants off.

“I really miss your tight little dresses right now,” he said as he struggled with it as well while trying not to hurt her. She had to agree with him on that. If she were wearing one he’d already have his head buried between her legs by now. “Christ is this why you asked for a wrench this morning? To get these on?” He said just as he got them unbuttoned and ripped them down her legs laughing with her.

There was a knock at the door, they both groaned turning their attention towards it.

“Tell them to go away,” Alma hissed.

“What?!” Bill hollered.

“Uh It’s Theo Boss, I’ve got Alvin with me,” he announced from the other side of the door.

“Shit,” Bill said slamming his fist against his desk. “I gotta take this.”

“Really? Tell him to wait a second we can-”

“I don’t like keeping him here long, love. Sorry...” he said pecking her lips.

“But my pants?”

“You’ve got a dress in the cash cabinet? I broke a sweat just trying to take them off.”

“Fine,” she groaned sliding off his desk, rubbing the sore skin on her stomach where her jeans cut into her skin.

“It’ll make it easier for later?” He winked watching her shimmy out the rest of her clothes. He felt his dick twitch seeing her in just her tiny panties in the corner of the room thinking about what could have been. “No panties, take those off. I don’t want anything else in the way.”

Alma slid into her black crushed velvet mini dress, one with a plunging draped neckline. She reached under the skirt and pulled her panties off with a smirk, twirling it around on her finger as she approached him.

“God damn it,” he said playfully leaving scratchy mustached kisses from her shoulder up to her neck. “I was about to fuck you up baby girl.”

“Boss?”

“Hold your horses,” Bill said opening the door for his bodyguard and his guest.

“Coulda let us in sooner me and the oaf wouldn’t have minded a private show,” Alvin patted Bill’s shoulder.

“What show?” Alma retorted back. “No one in a five-mile radius can get off when your skeezy ass is around.”

“Nice to see you too Miss Echo!”

“Go, take a seat Alvin, Christ.”

With her panties balled in her fist, she discreetly tucked them into Bill’s front pocket, “something to remember me by.”

Bill smiled and kissed her on her way out. It was funny, he thought when she’d put on a show for him. Like she needed to earn her way into his pants. He would drop to his knees with a simple snap of her fingers. Although he insinuated a merciless fucking – one where he’d choke the breath from her as he pinned her head against his desk while he slammed hard and deep into her he really just wanted to feel her from the inside. It made him feel safe and he felt like a chump thinking that but it was true. No one could make him feel like that but her and only her.

Once Alvin left, he cut into the half kilo brick he had bought from him taking a few hefty bumps with the sharp tip of his pocket knife. He sat back thinking of what Alma had said before about his “hit” on Blondie. He had, had a thing with that girl and now he was getting rid of her like it was nothing. He did like her, just not in the way he could promise her. She was the most volatile and exciting person he had ever met in his life. He hated playing games but he foolishly went along with hers gaining a rush from it even. He was in a weird place then. He had only been operating Trigger Finger for only a short while when he met her. Lonesome, he’d close up and take the train to an after-hours club for a beer and a good head bob to loud thrash music...

~~~

He saw her at Damned, a little hole in the wall dive bar close to where he lived at the time, looking like another Blondie lookalikes he’d often spot at punk clubs he’d frequented. She set herself apart, moshing and kicking with men twice her size and fearless. Even in the thrashing of limbs and bodies under the black lights, he could see that wild spark in her pale blue eyes right until she got elbowed straight in the nose knocking her back on her ass. She sat there stunned for a second, her nose leaking like a sieve running down her face and on to her shirt.

Compelled, Bill hopped from his seat and hurriedly helped her up afraid if she stayed there she’d gain an extra kick to the face.

“Are you okay?” He asked once they were in the clear of the pit.

Blondie, touched her face as if she couldn’t even feel the wetness running down face clearly still in shock.

“Oh fuck? Is it bad?” She whined.

Bill raised his brows, frowning and nodded. She began to laugh maniacally, wiping the blood with the back of her hand further staining her skin and spreading it everywhere. He was taken aback for a moment wondering if she was severely concussed or if she was just insane.

“Gnarly, huh!? I got hit fuckin’ hard!” She said still laughing with blood stained teeth. “Will you get me a beer?”

“Uh, sure?”

“I deserve it? Don’t you think?”

While she certainly seemed crazy all of his red flags were ignored when they started talking about music. It was refreshing to meet someone who knew their shit, it reminded him of conversations he’d have with his old friend Alma who he hadn’t seen in some years then. When she asked about what he did for a living he was slightly hesitant to mention his line of work worried about how she might receive it but when he did she became very intrigued.

“Is it good money?”

“Depends,” he said taking a sip of his beer.

“On?”

“On how well you can shake your tits and work a pole,” he chuckled. “But it just depends. I have girls that make money all the time because they build a clientele for themselves in my club. Then some nights even the worst girls cash out more than my best. Depends.”

“Jesus. You sound like a fuckin’ pimp.”

He shrugged. “It’s not so far off I guess.”

When they parted ways that early morning she tried to go home with him until he reminded her about her busted nose.

“Right. Maybe I should get it checked? So... I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. You can always find me at Trigger Finger. I’ll get you a drink and a show,” he winked. “Nice meeting you Veronica.”

“Pleasure,” she playfully curtsied. “See ya... oh shit, I forgot your name?”

He hadn’t seen her for months after that until she nervously walked into his club on an incredibly busy night. Theo approached the VIP booth while Bill was flanked and flirting with various girls as if it were a sport and informed him that “some girl was looking for him”. He looked passed Theo to the direction he pointed and saw Veronica there sheepishly waving cast in the pink neon light from the bar. When he joined her, she was staring wide-eyed at the stage watching Cooch clapping her heels from the top of the pole before graciously spinning down as dollar bills rained around her.

“She’s a fuckin’ amazon!” She exclaimed.

“She’s one of my best girls,” he said proudly.

Cooch came down in a smooth split, scooting toward the edge of the stage while shaking her plump rear and allowing the patrons tuck bills into the straps of her red thong.

“I can tell!”

“Here,” Bill said taking his wallet out and handing her 10 dollar bills. “Give this all to her and she’ll give you a little something back. I’ll get us a drink, have fun,” he winked.

She stood there looking at the cash hesitant until she mustered up the courage to approach the stage, fanning the money out in the air to gain her attention. She’d only ever been to a strip club once and it was hardly as extravagant and engaging as this place. Cooch crawled to her seductively once her attention was caught. She took Veronica’s wrist brushing the bills along her body before pulling the front of her panties open letting her tuck the cash inside. She was blushing the whole time trying to avoid directly staring at her tits as if it were rude to. Until Cooch took her other hand letting her run her hands over her bare breast as she stood there at a loss for words, cheeks hot with embarrassment.

“Thanks, love!” Cooch winked, twirling on her knee over to the next patron.

When she turned around towards the bar Bill was laughing with their drinks in hand.

“You should have seen your face!” He said when she approached.

“This place is wild,” she said taking her drink, laughing with him.

It only took a couple weekends hanging out and hooking up with Bill at the club that Veronica got the gumption to ask for a job.

“Maybe you should think on it?” He was hesitant to hire her.

“Think on what? It looks like good money and I need a job. I got fired a few weeks ago.”

“Fired for what?”

“Nothing. My boss just didn’t like me?”

Bill lifted a brow. “Why didn’t they like you?”

“It doesn’t matter. I just need a job... please.” She almost looked pained to say it, to be begging a near stranger.

“You know it’s hard work? My girls make it look like fun because they’re professional. I don’t like to hire girls without prior experience. When I did they were crying out of here within a week.”

“That won’t be me. I’m a fast learner!”

“You might be but I don’t do the official hire ‘til Cooch gives the green light. And she’s tough, she’s been in the business for a long time if you get the okay from her-”

“Then I can work here?”

Bill’s attention was taken watching his best friend who seemed to have fallen from the sky and back in his life that very evening walking down the steps of the loft. “Uh, maybe. If you get through Cooch you still gotta get a yes from me.”

She was going give him some sort of smart ass reply but she held her tongue knowing he wouldn’t hear her anyway. She slightly turned her head to see who he as looking at like a devoted puppy. A gorgeous shapely girl with black hair was looking at him in the same way. Veronica had noticed girls take an admirable shine towards him during her visits but how she was looking at him was genuine. Like he was the shining light at the end of a tunnel. She felt an irrational pang of jealous bubble within her with how they looked like lovesick teenagers.

Foolish, she thought she may have been the only girl he’d been legitimately interested in by how he charmed her. She should have known better to think a strip club owner would have loyalty to anyone with so much pussy running around him. Though she wasn’t positive that if she did take that to account sooner that she still wouldn’t have bent over for him across his desk the other night giving her the best fuck of her life but it made her sick.

“I’ll talk to Coo-” she began to say but he was blatantly ignoring her, waving Alma over to the bar with a smile stuck on his face and forgetting she even existed. “See you later,” she said but her dejection was drowned out by the loudspeakers. “Bye then,” she said grabbing her purse and flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Sure,” Bill nodded hardly even hearing her.

Alma took her space right after as Bill ordered her a drink. “Who was that?” She asked.

“Some yuppie...”

tags: @dreamtherapy @bskarsgardlove92 @tinygayfungi@skarswhat @nutinanutshell @xskarsgardx @reinamysterio @darling-dearest-desired@erika-beau-berika @fine-i-suppose @corlin90 @codependentcellist @loveforbillskasgard@kikilikes @twosupergayghosts @umbriellethenightfall @tigers-pat @billullabies

(please let me know whether you’d like to be added/removed from tags)

#avenue of sins #bill skarsgard #aos #my bill writings

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mutantsrisingrpg · 4 years

Photo

Congratulations ADDISON! You’ve been accepted as EPIMETHEUS with a FC change to JOEL KINNAMAN.

When writing Tierney’s skeleton, I tried to hint at how his emotions are something that can rule him - and you picked up on that right away. In fact, you picked up on it, wrapped it, and delivered it to us with a backstory that tore at my heart as the bow. ‘Had he always been a mutant?’ God, the way his power was discovered hit me in the face and I loved it. The theme of taking care of his family is one that I’m excited to see translate to the Blackburn Syndicate. I can’t wait to see Tierney flex his big dumbass energy on the dash!

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

Out of Character Information:

NAME/ALIAS: addison/hellsign

PRONOUNS: she/her/hers.

AGE: 20

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: EST, uhhhh activity level….6

In Character Information:

DESIRED ROLE: Tierney Sinclair, FC: Joel Kinnaman

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cismale, he/him/his

DETAILS & ANALYSIS:

To sum him up, BDG - big dumbass energy. But anyway:

Tierney (Irish): lord’ or ‘master

With names like these, at age 40, why the hell was he just a hitman, a tool for other people to use? Like every man when close to power, he should want that power, right? With Tierney, I think that was the last thing he wanted. Let me explain.

The only time he ever came close to being a “lord” or a “master” was taking care of his brothers growing up. Not that he would ever demanded them to call him that, it wasn’t some kind of title he would’ve liked to keep since it never felt like he ruled over them. Power equated to responsibility and he was a boy forced to become a man. He does not trust himself with power, he doesn’t know what he’ll do with it. Being a hitman is simple. He can clearly see the line between success and failure and he knows what it takes to achieve both. That’s where he gets his comfort. Some people may perceive this as laziness. But Tierney had been alive for 40 long years now. It was about time things became easy.

Epimetheus (Greek): afterthinker, hindsight, foolish Sinclair (Scottish): pure, renowned, illustrious

“red eyes” “always with malice” “burn of whiskey” “rusty pipe…whole world a show”

Why was he so EMOTIONAL??? Perhaps, he was a fool because he was ruled by anger. I thought I had more thoughts than just this, but yeah, he’s just an emotional man showing signs of intermittent explosive disorder.

BIO:

TW: murder/death

Dallon Sinclair was a good cop turned dirty. It was the sort of thing that happens when you knock up your mutant informant. Katelyn Monroe never wanted this baby, but she wasn’t about to die getting rid of it either. At one point, what they had between them was love. This was that one point.

Regardless of the gun pointing to his head, Dallon sworn to protect Katelyn and his unborn child. But his tenure in the depths of the underworld didn’t last very long. After a close shoot-out, Dallon came home and begged Katelyn, please, let me marry you, let us get out of here. Her boss didn’t like that very much.

When Tierney first opened his eyes, the world was a bright flashlight. He was born in the back of a car, seats pushed down with sheets thrown on haphazardly. A night in July, new moon in the sky enveloping the world in darkness. Nothing spectacular about it. Later on, his mother would tell him the story of a car chase, screeching wheels, leaving flames in their wake. He would never remember it.

Here was what he knew: his father was a paranoid old fuck; his mother was a fleeting apparition; his brothers were the only ones worth anything. He would die for them. Really un-fucking-fortunate that he wound up killing for them instead.

Katelyn Monroe came back into their lives like a raging hurricane.

Look, Tierney was only a Sinclair through blood, never by meaning. All that fucking purity shit that was supposed to come with it, circumstance never allowed it. They lived on the outskirts of Chicago’s underbelly and he dove right in to provide for his brothers whenever his father would swan dive back into his own darkness. Fucking faster than going to college somewhere and getting a good job. Tierney fought for money. He scammed for money. He robbed for money. He had a damn line. But somehow, holding Keaton and Charlie in his arms, he couldn’t remember why he had it in the first place. She wasn’t going to take from them anymore.

Katelyn Monroe lied motionless, blood soaking the wood under her. Dallon Sinclair hung like an ornament, his head secured in the wall. The floating glass didn’t fall until Tierney collapsed to his knees.

That was the first time Tierney was aware of his powers. The second was later that night, floating his parents’ bodies into the graves hastily dug under the new moon. Now that he was a mutant (shit, had he always been a mutant?), more doors opened and more questions were asked. There were several syndicates for mutants in Chicago, but Blackburn caught his eye. Protection. And fuck, Tierney knew enough to know that he’d be way over his head to think he could do this on his own now (shit, had he always been a mutant?). Using his connections from the neighborhood fighting ring, he got some names and a way in. And the rest was history.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

Okay, for CIARA SAWYER, I first noticed how young they were which gave me some pseudo-sibling vibes. They’re around his brothers’ age so I totally see Tierney taking them under his wing when they were younger. To Ciara, Tierney is why they still have a job within and outside of the syndicate. The two already work well together, but I think Tierney would’ve sought Ciara out even if they didn’t and make sure they learn how, projecting onto Ciara to cope with his failed relationships with his brothers. Ciara’s power is invisibility, but I also think personality-wise, they prefer to be unknown, or at least, try to be unknownable (“[Tierney doesn’t] ask too many prying questions” —so they prefer him). For whatever reason, they trust Tierney to see them and that means more to Tierney than he’ll ever say.

As for GERRARD BERMUDEZ!!!!!

“They have moral differences that clearly set them apart, but the similarities that they share are what makes Tierney hate them the most… What bothers them is how they notice the barely contained anger sitting behind their eyes because they’ve seen it too many times in their own mirror.”

DIFFERENCES:

Gerrard Bermudez: Jem Family, goals of a Mutant Supremacy.

They don’t kill/torture though.

Scare-tactic, bruiser

Doubles as a bodyguard when unassigned to a mission.

Hyperion - “God of Watchfulness, Wisdom and the Light”

1. One of the titan children that overthrew their father 2. Profitor on Cornerstone Convenience 3. No rules

Tierney Sinclair: Blackburn Syndicate, with a focus on being a safe haven, not necessarily political

Hitman - kills (+ malice = murder)

Epimetheus - “afterthinker, hindsight, foolish”

1. No positive trait for humans

I think it’s kind of ironic that despite being in different groups with very different goals, they are more closely aligned with each other’s organization.

The Blackburn Syndicate, for the past 17 (excuse me, SEVENTEEN) years, has been trying to shed its reputation as a crime-ridden mob. Here’s the thing though. Tierney is a hitman, he kills people but oh it’s okay because he’s one of the good guys. His anger feeds into a motive of justice. Gerrard is all bark and no bite, hiding under the Jem Family because of fear. Their anger is selfish and unproductive. Chaotic for the sake of chaos. That’s what Tierney believes anyway. To him, Gerrard is a victim that wants to be a school bully. Seeking revenge instead of avenging. In his post, his history with Gerrard “has long been forgotten.“ With Gerrard, their history is constantly brought up with snide remarks and an upturned nose. Tierney lies to himself because how can their history be forgotten when he can always feel it looming over him every time he’s in the same room with Gerrard? I think whatever happened between them solidified their morals and had them join different organizations with different goals. And it eats at Tierney to be so close to Gerrard—thanks to the treaty—but yet, they’re still lost to him. (This may change since I’m coming at this with the headcanon that the two were friends… not to god-mod Gerrard or anything). So really this hatred stems from heartbreak. (Tierney is a Cancer, of course).

AND LIKE… NOT TO GOD-MOD GERRARD OR ANYTHING, but if I were to hate Tierney, it’d be because of his hypocrisy and self-delusion. It’s like… what you do is bad but when I do it, it’s okay because I’m better than you. Which, bullshit. So I’m really interested to explore that.

EXTRA:

Honestly, the idea of Tierney having brothers stems from me thinking all white men look the same. I see one picture of Joel Kinnaman and I’m like is this Luke Mitchell?? Anyway, CHARLIE - Luke Mitchell, KEATON - Ross Lynch.

Okay, let me just get my family headcanons out of the way first.

Tierney’s oldest memory was of his little brother. He was six years old, eyes wide with wonder, with his hands reaching out for the warmth of his brother. They weren’t in a car this time. The Sinclairs finally had a house with a dining table, though the sheets might have been the same. Tierney wasn’t the first one to hold Charlie in his arms, but he was the first Sinclair to do so.

Tierney had his father, but Charlie had Tierney. And with those six years between them, Tierney always felt like Charlie was his.

Charlie, when he was younger, couldn’t pronounce Tierney so he called him Ernie.

Tierney used to walk Charlie home from school. Waited outside and everything because he got out earlier.

Being six years apart, they were never in school together so he had to teach Charlie how to fight so people wouldn’t mess with him.

Charlie never did like fighting though. And Tierney wasn’t above picking on kids so they’d leave his brother alone.

That was how he got a rep as a bully.

But if he liked you, he’d protect you too.

He got higher grades on the homework he did with Charlie because Charlie would ask him to explain everything and make him think through shit.

But usually he would do them during homeroom on the days they were due.

Tierney THINKS his powers activated on that fateful day, but really he’s had them this whole time and never fucking noticed.

It’s not that he’s good at finding things. He just subconsciously moves them closer.

He was able to hold Charlie because of his telekinesis. Charlie didn’t float because Tierney wanted to hold him in his arms.

At Fight Club, he expected to win with his punches and kicks, so he did.

Tierney had his fists locked by his side, but his mom flew out the door because he wanted it more.

He couldn’t join the Jem family because his father wasn’t a mutant and he had loved Katelyn, who was, and protected his family, who were. He couldn’t join the Jem family because his mother was a mutant and she hurt them more than anybody else.

Remember how I said that his connection with Ciara was to make up for his failed relationships with his brothers?

Charlie had a fiancé who was actually working for a small org that wanted to test mutation implementation (and Charlie were to be one of their victims). Tierney found out and mentally manipulated him to feel sick and disgust whenever he was with Charlie so they’d break up. Charlie found out that Tierney did that (but not the reason why).

Keaton never felt close to Tierney (mostly because of the age gap) and growing up, Tierney was mostly away working for the syndicate (not that Keaton knew that). Also, Charlie told him what happened and honestly fuck Tierney.

Tierney’s favorite color is yellow.

He never falls first, but he falls the hardest.

I mostly listened to THIS while writing this app. To me, it represents Tierney’s softness but also his desire to keep everybody at far more than arms’ length.

ANYTHING ELSE:

ok i was never into mob/mafia rpgs but i’m so FASCINATED by the premise of mutantsrising anyway anyway i’m super pumped for it. i would apologize for sending in like 2k of analysis but i know yall live for this soooo YOURE WELCOME i hope i did well and this MAKES SENSE I’VE NEVER CONNECTED SO HARD WITH AN OLD MAN

#accepted #accepted: epimetheus

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