#(if you made it all the way to the last tag I applaud you and would really like your thoughts! x)

[thefallennightmare]

The Coyotes Cry-One

*gif made by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: MafiaBoss!TattooArtist! Noah Sebastian x OFC.

Warnings/Tropes: violence, death, swearing, smut(very mature), angst, fluff, forced proximity, forbidden love, dark romance, mafia themes, arranged marriage, tattoo artist.

Summary: Centered on the story of a young bride whose fairy-tale vision of the Concrete Jungle is shattered when her father, part of the Irish Crime Family; McManus strikes a marital peace deal with the mafia head of OMNS, Noah Sebastian. Scarlett is faced with rage and conflict, as she is forced to work alongside her new husband in his tattoo shop that fronts for his mafia dealings. Devastating events leave Scarlett with the realization that there is more to Noah than meets the eye. "I would willingly, lay down my life for you if I had to." The power of love is thicker than blood.

Authors Note: Here is chapter one! I don't think this series will be more than six parts but you never know with how often I'm always adding things. This series will have mature themes throughout as a warning.

Tags[OPEN]: @thescarlettvvitch @sammyjoeee @happi-goth @lma1986 @iknownothingpeople @vinyardmauro @malice-ov-mercy @concreteemo @wheezybrenda @thisbicc @malerieee @mrs-zimmerman @srorgana1 @miserylovescompany1195-blog @embracethereaper42 @lizzieseveride @eclipseeetop @sundamariis @calleyx13 @krisslee18 @princessgh0st @aprosiacperson @xxrainstorm @ourdiabolikal-rapture @iamamatus @klutzy-kay24 @cookiesupplier @bngurngheart @idwt-money @rain-down-on-me

NOAH

The screams were muted due to the concrete confines of the room, the cold, moist air circulating us in a suffocating grip. But none of that mattered, the only thing that did was strapped to the chair in front of me. Cleaning the sharp blade on the once-white handkerchief, I clicked my tongue at the raw screams. 

“Scream all you want. No one can hear you all the way down here,” I said while pointing to the concrete walls. “I mixed the concrete myself with a special formula. Think of it as soundproof.” 

The man spat blood at my feet, nearly missing my black boots. “Fuck you!” 

A chuckle to the left of me and I glanced over to one of my right-hand men, Joakim. Although, we in OMNS always called him Jolly. 

“I applaud the fire in you,” Jolly nodded at the man. “You’ll need it.” 

Twirling the knife between my fingers, I yet again asked the same question that I asked three times previously. 

“Who killed Vincent?” 

“I already told you fuckers, I don’t know!” The man, Barry, choked out on a mouth full of blood. “You’re asking the wrong guy!” 

As Barry fought against the bindings, the chair scraping against the ground at our feet, I hummed in mock disappointment. “No, Barry. I don't think we are. My intel tells me that someone in the Irish Mafia killed a dear friend of mine.” 

“I hate to tell you, your intel is wrong,” Barry said with a dry chuckle. 

Suddenly his screams of agony sounded like music to my ears as I dug the knife deep into his thigh directly above the previous wound that Jolly had given him with the screwdriver. My hair fell into my eyes and I hastily brushed it back with my large hand, blood smearing in the dark strands. I’d been due for a haircut for the last few weeks but haven’t found anyone able to give me the correct Levi cut since my older barber passed away. 

“My intel is never wrong,” I gritted out through clenched teeth while twisting the knife deeper.

Barry was a blubbering mess, dark tendrils of his hair covered the agony on his face so with a sharp nod from me, Jolly stood behind Barry and ripped his head back so I could watch in pleasure. 

“Now, I’m only going to ask one more time,” I twisted the knife deeper. “Who killed Vincent?” 

He did his best to writhe away but with my knife piercing him in place and Jolly’s tight grip on his hair, there was nowhere for Barry to run. Blood dripped from his mouth, his nose, and the cut on his eyebrow. Before we captured him, he had the looks of a movie star but now, I couldn't help but cringe. 

“I already told you,” he sobbed, a mess of blood and snot. “I swear.”

Jolly and I shared a look for a brief moment before we pushed away from Barry to slink over to the far end of the room to have a conversation. 

“Do you believe him?” Jolly tied up his hair into a messy bun. 

I placed my hands on my hips and sighed. “I don’t think he knows who killed Vincent but he knows the right direction we need to look. We need to crank it up a notch and show him that OMNS isn't going to back down from this.” 

Instantly, he understood and while he retreated up the stairs to my office, I titled my head at Barry. 

“What family do you work for?” I asked. 

His breathing was shallow and unsteady thanks to the hard blows of Jolly’s fists to his ribs but I had to marvel at this kid's drive to remain loyal. 

“The Walsh’s,” he eventually answered. 

My brows furrowed in confusion. “The Walsh’s haven’t been around since they moved their operations back to Boston. Why are you still here running the streets for them?” 

Barry lifted his heavy head and wore a smug smile. “Call me committed.” 

“No, I don't think that’s it,” I shook my head and took two large steps towards him, him shrinking back into himself. “I think it’s the fact that you’re lying to me and I fucking hate liars.” 

“Fucking shit!” 

He cursed when I ripped out the knife from his thigh to press the blade against his neck. 

“You’re insane,” Barry shuddered when he noticed the playful gleam in my eyes. 

“Maybe,” I shrugged. “But I also don’t like liars. Now, I’ll ask again. What family do you work for?” 

“It’s a new family on the rise called O’shove it up your ass,” he spat in my face. 

Literally. 

His saliva and blood dripped down my cheek but I didn’t even flinch and made no effort to wipe it away. Instead, I broke out into a wide smile when I heard Jolly returning with something special in tow; something that made Barry’s eyes widen in fear. 

“Wh-what the fu-fuck, man?! Do you just have that lying around?” He stuttered. 

Glancing over my shoulder, I extended my hand to Jolly who in turn placed the handle of the katana in my palm. Standing straight now, I studied the old sword with careful precision. 

“This used to be my great-great-great grandfathers; passed down through each generation. It might be old but I have the blade sharpened every once in a while, just in case,” I said while slowly removing the blade from the sheath. 

The dim light overhead cast its faded yellow glow on the sharp blade and something inside of me twinged with sheer delight. 

“Ju-ju-st in case fo-for what?” 

Jolly snorted at the stuttering mess of Barry while leaning against the concrete wall. 

“Tell us what we want to know and you won’t have to find out.” 

The sharp tip of the katana pressed lightly against Barry’s jugular, all it would take would be one flick of my wrist to end it all however I refrained, not wanting to end the fun before I got what I needed. 

“What family do you work for?” I asked again, this time with less patience than the last time. 

Barry’s eyes glanced down from the long blade at his throat to Jolly then finally up to me as I towered over him. His bottom lip wavered as he finally nodded. 

“Okay, okay. Promise you won’t kill me?” 

He tried to wager but to humor him, I gave a curt nod. “Tell me what I want to know and I’ll think about it.”

“Fuck,” Barry sobbed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m good as dead anyway. The McManus family don’t like rats and a low-level drug dealer like me isn’t worth saving.” 

My grip on my katana slipped slightly at the name but I was quick to recover. “The McManus?” 

He nodded widely. “ Yea. I work for the brothers; Connor and Murphy. I deal their drugs and run their errands.”

“So you’re their bitch?” Jolly asked. 

Barry’s shoulders fell. “Essentially, yes.” 

“Did the McManus brothers kill Vincent?” I asked while tightening my grip on the handle of the katana. 

“No,” he shook his head, the blood from the wound above his eye now pooling into his eyes. “But they might know who did it. I can try and set up a meeting with them, on your behalf. Maybe they can lead you in the direction you’re looking for?” 

Jolly gave me a look and I held up a finger, not quite finished with my conversation with Barry. 

“Why the fuck would they listen to you if you’re just their bitch?” 

This brought a wicked smile to his face as he used his shoulder to wipe away the blood from his chin. 

“Because Murphy McManus doesn't like it when his daughter is threatened.” 

A loud rumble erupted in my chest, like a ravenous growl, as I dug the blade of the katana deeper into Barry’s neck, blood now oozing from the fresh wound. I ignored his wails of pain, now only seeing red. 

“You’ve got some balls kid to threaten the daughter of one of the most feared Irish Mafia families,” I said. 

Barry shrugged in his binds. “I didn’t say it would be coming from me. Word on the street is that McManus' grandfather had issues with your grandfather some odd years ago. They’d believe me if I said the great Noah Sebastian was looking to start a turf war.” 

With a scowl, I snapped my head at Jolly. “Get this piece of shit his phone so he can make the call.” 

Never once faltering the blade from Barry’s neck, I watched with narrowed eyes as Jolly removed one of the binds around his wrist and tossed the phone on his lap. 

“Make the meeting. If I hear one threat on the daughter, I’ll end your life before you even hang up the phone,” I seethed behind the mask of my hair as it fell into my eyes. 

My heart beat like a thunderstorm in my chest at the thought of the McManus daughter. No one knew of her and what she meant to not only the family but me as well; besides my closest allies. 

Barry’s fingers worked fast to type out a message before showing me the screen and with my free hand, I snatched it from him to read it. 

Barry: The brother's food will be delivered at six p.m. tonight. 

Unknown: What’s on the menu? 

Barry: Japanese with a side of Swiss.

“Joakim is Swedish,” I corrected Barry. “I’m assuming this whole dinner rous is to keep the authorities off your back if they go snooping?” 

“Look at you! I think you earned yourself a gold star,” Barry joked. 

Jolly’s fist collided with his face, his neck snapping to the side, and the faint red mark from his ring began to rise on Barry’s cheek. 

“Let me guess, he’s the muscle between the two of you?” Barry spat out a chunk of blood. 

Not bothering to look away from his phone as a new message came in, I answered his question. 

“No, that’s Ash. Trust me, you don’t want to meet him.” 

Unknown: Dinner will be served in the study.  6 o’clock. 

“It’s set,” I tossed the phone to Jolly who dropped it to the ground seconds before his boot came crashing down on it. 

“What the fuck! You guys owe me a new phone!” 

Placing the sheath back over the katana, I set it on the table along with the other wide variety of weapons and turned back to Barry with my hands crossed behind my back; grasping the weapon tightly. He glanced between Jolly and me and noticed the sinister gleam dancing behind my honey eyes. 

“Hang on,” he began thrashing in the chair, free hand swinging widely. “You said I could live.” 

“I did. But watch what you say next.” 

Quickly, Jolly grabbed Barry’s free arm to drag his still-bound body over to the table behind me and held his wrist down. His hand was on display for my wicked plan. 

“Barry, I have a question for you. If you answer wrong, well-,” I pulled out the hammer from behind my back and shook it in front of him. 

His eyes widened in fear but I paid no mind to it, simply asked my question. 

“Will Murphy’s daughter be there tonight?” 

“Fuck no! Dumb broad never leaves her bedroom,” Barry answered. “She’s holed up in there all hours of the day. The only time she leaves is at 8 o'clock for her nightly walks.” 

Jolly sucked in a breath just as I raised the hammer, bringing it down on Barry’s pinky, whose cries were overshadowed by the noise of his bones breaking.

“Why are you so obsessed with this broad?!” 

I brought the hammer down again, this time breaking his ring and pointer finger. Now he was practically having an exorcism with how he was moving about on the chair, struggling to break free from the binds. 

“One more question then I’m finished with this game,” I said while craning my neck to the side before getting eye level with the man. “Do you suspect the McManus family killed Vincent?” 

While he stayed silent, the look that flashed over his hazel eyes told me everything I needed to know. Turning on my heels, I dropped the hammer on the table and began walking upstairs to leave Jolly to clean up until Barry’s voice halted me in my tracks. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the broad pulled the trigger herself. She’ll do whatever she can to get Daddy’s attention since she was never the favorite..” 

My shoulders went rigid and I could faintly hear Jolly mutter under his breath something in Swedish before I grabbed the gun from behind my back that had been tucked in the waist paint of my black slacks and fired two rounds straight into Barry’s chest. 

“Noah,” Jolly started. 

I waved him off before dropping the gun on the table. “Let’s be real, Jolly. We weren’t letting him walk out of here alive anyway. 

“McManus,” he sighed while rubbing his jaw. “Why does that name sound familiar?” 

I cleaned the blood from my fingers and rings before letting out a long breath. I knew he wouldn’t remember the name but that name haunted me for years, plagued my entire existence in more ways than one. 

“They’re one of the most notorious Irish Mafia families. Their lineage started in Ireland generations ago before relocating to Boston where the McManus brothers were raised by their grandfather, Fergal. They moved to Los Angeles when the brothers were in their mid-twenties.” 

“Wait,” Jolly’s head snapped over towards me. “The twins that went on that killing spree all those years ago in Boston. The last anyone heard from them is when they shot Yakavetta in open court.” 

“Exactly why they moved here. Fergal didn't appreciate the hot trail on them so they hid out here for a few years. But Fergal couldn’t handle laying low for long because he began building the ranks here. Overstepping on my grandfather's turf, because he was still young at the time.” I grabbed the weapons we used on Barry and tossed them into the bucket of bleach in the utility sink. 

“You know a lot about this family,” Jolly noted. 

I hummed. “My grandfather told me all about them growing up. He wanted to make sure I was well versed in the McManus family once I took over.” 

Glancing down at myself, I hummed again in displeasure when I noticed the blood spatter all over my white turtleneck.

Should have worn the black one, idiot.

I went about cleaning up the mess, ignoring the slumped-over body in the chair for a moment. 

“The daughter. Do you think she did it?” Jolly wondered. 

I halted unraveling the plastic we used to wrap the dead bodies for a few seconds before letting my shoulders drop slightly. “I don’t believe so. While the McManus brothers do hire hitmen to do their dirty work, there’s no way Murphy would make his own blood do it.”

“I know there’s some sort of history between you and her. With all of us-” 

His words trailed off when I snapped my eyes over to him. “There is no history, Jolly. She’s just someone who went to high school with us. That was years ago and I doubt she even remembers that we went to the same school. She was too busy being preoccupied with other things.” 

All of us in OMNS grew up together since we were twelve years old, Jolly moved here from Sweden when he was ten. We’d all been inseparable for the last sixteen years in the schoolyard and now the streets of the Concrete Jungle. 

Not saying another word, the two of us busied ourselves cleaning up our mess and by the time we returned upstairs to my office. The staircase to the hidden basement was located behind a bookshelf and while Jolly closed it, I rummaged through the drawers of my desk to find a different shirt. 

Now dressed in a fresh black t-shirt, we stepped out of my office and the sounds of tattoo machines reached my ears and I smirked walking into the open lobby. Every one of my artists had someone in their chairs and my most sought-after artist, Nicholas, glanced up at me for a second before returning to tattooing his client. 

“How’d the meeting go?” He asked. 

“Didn’t work out. We have another one set for 6 tonight,” Jolly informed. 

I went up to the counter of my tattoo shop and glanced down at the book. It was a full day of appointments not to mention the group of girls that came in for a walk in. They were chittering like birds about how it was the blonde's bachelorette party and she specifically wanted me. 

In more ways than one. 

While she was cute, she wasn’t my type. 

Roger, the receptionist of Under The Right Lights Tattoo Parlor, and newest recruit of OMNS glanced at me over his shoulder. 

“Oh hey, Noah. Are you ready for the walk-in?” 

I shook my head. “No, I’m not tattooing today. But I do have a job for you.” 

His eyes lit up. “Yeah?” 

“Tonight when the shop closes, stick around. We need your help with something,” I patted his shoulder. 

“You got it, boss,” Roger nodded with a wide smile. 

Turning on my heels, I stuffed my hands in my pockets to glance at my studio. I opened Under The Right Lights about six years ago and even though we had a slow start, once word got out that Noah Sebastian and Nicholas Ruffilo tattooed here, business flowed in through the doors. 

I took over my grandfather's other business eight years ago but needed something to cover those dealings so that's when I thought of opening a tattoo shop with my best friends; my brothers. While Nicholas tattooed, Jolly ran the financial side of things, and Nick, or as we called him Folio, ran the motorcycle shop right next door. He was a mechanic, one of the best in town, and he often frequented here through the door to the left of Nicholas’ booth when he wasn’t busy fixing bikes.

Above my tattoo shop housed thirty apartments, all owned by me, and I lived in the penthouse on the tenth floor. Everyone in OMNS also lived in their own units so we could always be close to each other, in case something came up. With nine of the units being occupied by us, I rented out the other twenty-one for another form of income each month. 

I treated everyone as an equal with the tattoo studio and OMNS but they also respected me enough to know that I had the final say with both. Things didn’t get approved unless I gave the okay. 

Glancing down at my watch, I noticed that it was only four in the afternoon meaning we had a few hours until we met with the brothers. So I walked over to the back area of the shop where we used a private section to make a small gym where I knew Ash and Byran would be. 

Ash was not only my bodyguard but he was also my trainer and Bryan took photos of the tattoos and ran our social media account. 

“Tonight, six o'clock,” I said while crossing my arms. 

Bryan wiped the sweat from his forehead and nodded. “I’ll make sure the SUV is loaded up.” 

“Thank you,” I then turned towards Ash. “I’ve got a body downstairs. Do you mind?” 

He shook his head. “Not at all. I’ll bring Matt. He needs a break from managing everything. Get out and smell the trees in the woods. Or the salty brine of the ocean.”

With a snort, I bid them goodbye before retreating into my office and ignoring the preposterous waves of the blonde in the waiting area and instead thought of a certain redhead. 

SCARLETT

With a longing sigh, I brushed away the fire-red strands of hair from my face and adjusted my position on my bed to continue reading the book in front of me. It was the book Wolves: Behavior, Ecology, and Conservation by L. David Mech. This was the third time I’ve read but every time, I somehow learned something new. 

I've been out of college with my degree for four years now and although I haven’t done anything since then, I still tried to keep up with my studies. The possibility of opening up a wildlife rescue still weighed heavy on my mind but I knew my father would never agree to it. His money was to be used for other business opportunities.

The spiral notebook was filled with my chicken scratch handwriting and after tossing down the pen, I shook out the cramp from my hand to glance at the clock on my nightstand. It was nearing six in the evening and when it would be time for dinner with my father and uncle, they had to cancel due to a meeting that seemed to come out of nowhere. 

Next to the clock was a picture that made my heart drop to my stomach like it did every time. It was of me, my father, and my mother back on my eighteenth birthday and high school graduation; the last picture we took together. 

Because she was murdered that night. 

Eight years later the tears still burned in my eyes when I thought back to that night. We were driving home from dinner when someone crashed into our car and ran it off the road into a ditch. My father managed to pull me from the wreckage before the car burst into flames; my mother however wasn’t that lucky. We never found out who ran us off the road that night and whenever I asked about it, my father would wave me off and say one word only. 

Revenge. 

The relationship with my father was never the same since that night and once my Uncle Connor moved in, I retreated into myself. I loved them both dearly, but I blamed their life in the Irish Mafia for my mother's death. I did my best to remain respectful because I still lived in the McManus estate and knew I couldn’t make it on my own; not yet. My father had made it clear more than once that the only way I was to move out was either if I had my own money or married. 

Hence why I was doubling up on my studies, I needed to find some kind of job with my degree, a simple job at a store or fast food place would not be enough to survive on my own. And clearly, my relationship with my boyfriend was nowhere near marriage level yet; we’d only been together for less than a year and never spoke about getting married. 

I checked my phone and noticed Cory texted me a little while ago. 

Cory: I have to cancel tomorrow night, sorry. Work is sending me out of town and won’t be back till Sunday. 

I rolled my eyes knowing damn well he wasn’t the slightest bit sorry. 

Me: OK. See you then, I guess.

I locked my phone, the sound echoing in the quiet of my bedroom, and I busied myself once again with the book in front of me until there was a soft knock on my door. 

“Yes?” I called out. 

The door cracked open slightly and a head of white curls popped their head inside and I instantly smiled. 

“Hi, Dortha.” 

“Hello dear,” our housekeeper smiled, resting her frail hands in the pocket of her apron. “I know your father and uncle can’t make dinner but I still made your favorite. If you’re hungry.” 

My stomach growling gave way to my answer so with a chuckle, I let my studies be to follow Dortha out of my room and down to the dining room where I knew she already had a plate of food set up for me.

NOAH

The car ride across town to the McManus estate was filled with the ramblings of the other members of OMNS while I sat quietly behind the wheel, mind filled with more pressing matters. I gripped the wheel so hard that my knuckles were turning white, something Nicholas, who sat in the passenger seat, noticed right away. 

“Are you alright?” 

I nodded. “Just going over what I’m going to say.” 

Pulling the car to a slow stop at a red light, I drummed my fingers against the dashboard, trying another thing to calm my nerves since the deep breathing exercises my therapist recommended weren’t working. 

“Hey boss,” Roger spoke up from the back seat between Ash and Bryan. “Maybe someone else should drive. You seem nervous.” 

My eyes sliced into him through the rearview mirror. “No one drives my car but me.” 

With a shaking hand through his golden locks, he nodded and kept his head down the rest of the drive once I hit the gas again. 

“Do you know what you’re going to ask them? Folio wondered from the seat behind me while tapping the wooden drumsticks he always carried on his lap. 

“I’m thinking of coming out right and asking if they have any idea who killed Vincent,” I answered. 

Jolly shifted in the seat behind Nicholas and without having to gaze over at him, I knew he wasn’t too thrilled about my idea. 

“I’d say we just pop these fools. End this turf war once and for all,” Roger pipped up again. 

His excitement for being brought along tonight was evident but I was suddenly regretting my decision. 

“Chill, we need to be smart about this,” I said. 

“We can’t go in there with guns blazing,” Jolly added. 

I came to a stop in front of the large, gothic-like gate, and rolled down my window so I was able to click the button on the intercom. 

“Yes?” A thick Irish accent responded. 

I cleared my throat. “I have the brothers' dinner. Japanese with a side of Swiss.” 

Only static came from the speaker for a long moment until the loud creak of the gate caused Roger to jump in surprise and Byran to stifle a laugh behind his hand. The SUV glided up the long drive with ease as the setting sun spilled inside casting all of us in an orange and purple glow. We all piled out as soon as the car was parked in front of the McManus manor and I nodded towards Bryan, Ash, and Roger. 

“You three hang back in the foyer in case the brothers don’t want all of us in the meeting,” I said while clicking the safety on my gun before stuffing it in my back waistband. 

While Ash and Bryan agreed, both double-checking their weapons, Roger on the other hand made his distaste for my orders known with a low scowl. 

“All due respect, Noah,” he began. 

I adjusted the peaky hat on my head and raised a brow. “Is there a problem, Roger?” 

He shifted on his feet. “I’ve been the recruit for six months now, don’t you think I worked up being involved in one of these meetings?” 

I bit the inside of my cheek to my snarky remark to myself but Folio was quick to respond in my place. 

“Kid, calm down. It took Bryan six years to work up the ranks. Ash, it took him ten years.” 

Roger gaped at the two of them who seemed to have played along with Folio’s joke and agreed with a nod. 

“Can I atleast get a gun?” He outstretched his arms. “You guys are sending me into the warzone with no weapon!” 

“It’s only a warzone if you make it one,” Ash said. 

“No weapons for recruits,” I said. 

Not wanting to waste any more time out here, I led the group of us up the crumbling steps and came to a stop in front of the door. Motioning to Roger, I waited for him to ring the bell, and glanced around the vast grounds of the McManus estate while stuffing my hands deep into the pockets of my black peacoat. 

“Nervous?” 

Peering to my left, I nodded to Nicholas. “A bit.” 

He clapped my shoulder. “Let’s keep our questions short. Try to get the info we need then we can leave.”

“Yeah,” Folio agreed while shivering. “This place gives me the creeps. It looks like it's days away from caving in.” 

Glancing up at the old brick mansion, I had to agree with him. It looked as if neither of the McManus brothers bothered to keep up with the maintenance of the home and the overgrown grass on the other side of the driveway was proof of that. 

Suddenly the front door opened with an eerie creaking and all of our eyes met with an older lady with a head full of white curls. 

“Yes?” 

I stepped forward. “My name is Noah Sebastian. OMNS has a meeting with the brothers.” 

Her brown eyes shifted between all of us before she slowly stepped to the side, letting us all pile inside the grand manor. While the outside needed some work, the inside was marvelous with expensive pieces of art and not a speck of dust anywhere. 

“My name is Dorthea. I will let the brothers know you’re here,” she said with a thick Irish accent. 

Movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention and when I gazed up at the top of the stairs landing, all of my breath left my soul when those familiar hazel eyes met mine. All of the hairs not only on the back of my neck but on my arms stood straight with the buzz of electricity that shot through me when I noticed her eyes double in size. The brightness of her gaze struck a chord in my heart, playing a soft melody that only the two of us could hear. 

It had been a long while since I’d seen her last but fuck, she still looked absolutely breathtaking like she did the night of high school graduation.  

Her hair was deeper red than the last time we saw each other, now it cascaded down her back, and when she outstretched her arms on the wooden banister, her head tilted to the side in a way to assess all of these strangers in her home. 

Although four of us weren’t strangers to her. We all went to high school together even though she wouldn’t remember us. She was always with the group of kids that were rich, too good to be seen with the bottom dwellers like us. 

I removed my hat to hand it to Roger to hold onto it then shook out my hair from my eyes before slicking it back and I could have sworn I heard someone’s breath catch in their throat. 

“Noah Sebastian, standing here in my house. I must say, I almost didn’t recognize you without the long hair.” 

Well, shit. 

“Saoirse McManus,” I hummed in response to her sarcastic tone. 

A low scowl pulled on her lips before she pushed herself away from the banister and quickly scurried down the hall, disappearing around the corner. 

It was almost bittersweet seeing her again after all this time. While I wish it had been under better circumstances, I knew that I couldn’t allow myself to get wrapped up in Saoirse McManus; not again. I had built an empire since dropping out of high school and I couldn’t let anything tear it down, especially a silly little crush. 

It never was a silly crush. It was always more than that. You’re just bitter that she never felt the same.

Why would she ever have feelings for me? In her eyes and her financial stature, OMNS were nobodies; the gum on the bottom of their shoe. While they ran their empire up in the rich estates of the wealthy, we ran ours in the slums of the Concrete Jungle. There may have been a point in my life when I wanted to be in the same stature as her but now having earned my wealth, I realized that all I needed was my brothers. 

Bullshit. 

If that were the case, seeing her tonight wouldn’t have taken my breath away and cock twitched with such a dire need for her. 

“What was that about her not remembering you?” Jolly asked. 

I ran a hand over my mouth. “I didn’t think she would.” 

“Hey,” Roger’s head popped in between Jolly and I. “That’s the daughter, right? You know, rumors are going around the CJ that she’s the one that killed Vincent.” 

My eyes sliced into him and Jolly had to press a hand to my chest to keep me from wrapping my hands around his throat. 

“The CJ?” I spat out through a clenched jaw. 

Roger swallowed thickly. “Yeah. The Concrete Jungle. I thought you would understand the nickname since you were the one who created the Concrete Jungle. I spend a lot of time in the tunnels with groups of guys who tell stories of OMNS success. Why do you think I wanted to join so badly?”  

“Do me a favor, kid. Stop lingering in the underground parts of the jungle because you don’t know what dwells underneath there. You don’t want to find yourself in a situation you can’t sweet talk your way out of,” I said. 

“What?” He let out an airy chuckle. “Are you hiding a tank full of sirens? Or creating your own artificial intelligence?” 

With a dark look filling my eyes, I gave him a smirk before giving him my back when I heard the faint footsteps of Dorthea returning.

“Just the Japanese and Swiss,” she pointed to us. 

Jolly let out a groan. “I’m Swedish.” 

“Follow me,” she hooked a finger at us, ignoring Jolly. 

Giving the rest of my brothers a nod, we followed Dorthea down a long wide hallway, and I took in the sight of all the pictures lining the wall, noticing that they were family pictures of the McManus family. 

The first picture was of the man who started it all over one hundred years ago, Cillian McManus. It continued for a long while until Fergal’s familiar face caught my eyes, followed by his son, then Connor, then Murphy with his wife and Saiorse. 

Coming to a brief stop, I studied the picture for a long moment, before Jolly pulled me along. 

“The brothers are allowing you five minutes of their time,” Dorthea informed as we stopped in front of a set of double doors and her hands wrapped around the golden knobs. 

“How generous,” I grumbled under my breath just before the door opened. 

Inside was a huge library/office combo. Three out of four of the walls were just bookshelves full of books, the smell of old literature tickling my nose. Thick black carpet covered almost every inch of the floor and in the center of the room were two long burgundy couches that sat horizontally to an old fireplace that was blazing with hot flames. I felt the warmth on my face when Jolly and I stepped inside.  

On either couch sat the brothers, both having a glass dangling from their fingers, and their hushed conversation seized when they noticed our presence. 

“Ah,” the taller one with shorter hair muttered as he slowly stood to his feet and extended his free hand toward me. “You must be Noah. An acquaintance of mine said I’d be expecting you. I’m Conner.” 

After we shook hands, Connor motioned to the other man on the couch, who still had yet to stand up. “That is my twin brother Murphy.” 

Giving him a curt nod, I clasped my hands behind my back. “This is Joakim. We won’t take much of your time. But we do have one question to ask.” 

While Murphy muttered something in Irish under his breath, Connor urged me to ask. 

“About six months ago, a dear friend of ours Vincent Riquier was murdered, his body being left on the doorstep of my tattoo shop. I had some intel point me in the direction of someone in the Irish family.” 

Connor's brow raised as he took a small drink of his amber liquid. “Are you saying we had something to do with it?” 

Jolly shook his head. “Not at all. We were just wondering if you could let us know if our intel was correct since it came from one of your men.” 

This caused Murphy to snap his head towards us and brushed away the long hair from his face; blue eyes boring into us. “One of our men?” 

“Barry,” I said flatly. “Movie star looks. Although, I must say that was before.” 

The twins shared a look before Murphy rose to his feet with a roar. “You killed him?” 

I stood toe to toe with him, not showing him an ounce of fear because I knew guys like this could smell it. 

“Never said I did,” I answered with a shrug.

“Imigh leat,” Murphy waved a hand in my face before turning on his feet to face the fireplace. 

Connor let out a displeased noise at his brother before giving Jolly and me a tight smile, the lines in his face creasing. “You must ignore my brother, he just argued with his daughter before you arrived.” 

Saoirse’s face crept into my mind but I did my best to push away those feelings. I couldn’t give away my feelings for her; the ones that stayed buried for so long. 

“Again with this foolish dream of opening an animal rehab facility. Why she wants to work when she has all the money I can give her if she just stays here is beyond my thinking,” Murphy muttered after downing the rest of his drink, slamming the cup on the table next to the couch. 

“About Barry,” Connor ignored his brother while stuffing his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. “If you did kill him, one less thing for us to worry about. He was a pain in our arses anyway.” 

“So then, as a token, you’ll give us the direction we need to look into for our friend's death,” Jolly tried while scratching the facial hair on his chin. 

With Connor’s silence, his gaze locked in on us with his hand on the holster on his hip, and Murphy’s back still to us, I nodded towards Jolly, who understood and we bid the brothers goodbye. 

“Thank you for your time,” I said before ushering Jolly outside of the room before me. 

Once we were back in the solitude of the hallway, we rushed back to the foyer with a burning feeling at the back of my neck. Something wasn’t right, their silence told us way too much and I needed to get far away from here. 

“Something doesn’t feel right,” Jolly noted. 

I agreed with a low rumble in my chest, placing my hat back on. “I know. They were quick to dismiss us and I didn’t like how Connor reached for his gun.” 

Hearing our footsteps echo loudly on the marble floor, Bryan glanced up from his phone with furrowed brows. 

“That was quick.” 

“We’ll discuss it in the car,” I said while ushering everyone outside quickly. 

One by one we all piled out of the house and before I stepped through the threshold, I dared a glance back up to the stairs landing, hoping to catch sight of her but instead, I locked eyes with two large guards who had their guns in their grasp. 

“Boss, this doesn't make sense,” Roger turned swiftly on his heels and blocked me. 

“Roger, not now,” I said sternly. “Get to the car. Now.” 

“All these rumors, they had to start somewhere,” he continued to ramble on. 

I backhanded his chest and then threw a thumb over my shoulder to the men who were now descending the grand staircase. Finally, when Roger noticed them, he scrambled out the door, me swiftly following behind him. 

All of us gathered around the SUV to discuss what our next plan of action would be. There were other Irish families I could talk with but they all had connections to the McManus brothers so they wouldn’t give me anything. 

As I was chatting with Nicholas, Roger began pacing in front of the car, running a hand through his hair. 

“What’s his problem?” Nicholas mumbled to me. 

“He thinks the brothers are hiding something,” I informed him while shrugging. “I must admit, I feel the same. They were too closed off in there. And the way those guards were staring at me, I swore they were looking for a fight.” 

“In retaliation for Barry?” 

“Could be,” I ran a hand over my chin. “Or they don’t appreciate us showing up tonight. Either way, we need to get out of here.” 

Everyone began loading into the SUV, besides Roger, who was still pacing. 

“Roger, get in,” I demanded from behind the driver's door. 

"They're a bunch of liars. all of them. I bet you that broad upstairs knows something.” 

All I saw was read for a few moments before I realized that I had Roger pinned to the hood of the car by his throat, my tattooed fingers cutting off his oxygen. Strands of my hair fell into my eyes but I made no effort to let up my grip. 

“Watch how you speak about her,” I spit out. 

Roger’s eyes were white as he struggled to fight me, his nails digging into the skin of my wrist. 

“Shit,” Ash muttered while scrambling out of the car to wrap his arms around my chest, trying to pull me away. “Let him go, Noah. You’re going to kill him.” 

With an effortless grunt, I tossed Roger to the ground and did my best to fix my hair when Ash let me go as the front door of the manor opened; Saiorse walked out with the two guards following closely behind her. 

She paid us no mind as she trotted down the steps and began walking the opposite way of us. Glancing at my watch, I noticed that it was 8 p.m. 

“The only time she leaves is at 8 o'clock for her nightly walks.” Barry’s words from earlier rang in my ears. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I grumbled while adjusting my jacket. 

Roger quickly scrambled to his feet and when he finally noticed the two guards who had stopped walking to watch us with careful eyes, something switched in Roger’s mind. My jaw began to drop when I saw him reach for something underneath his shirt, my next words came out slow, almost inebriated. 

“Roger, no!” 

The sound of gunfire erupted, and all of us dropped to our knees around the car for some sort of protection. Bullets ricochet off of the car, one nearly missing my forehead as it blew the hat clear off my head. I strangled out a vacant cry while pressing my body closer to the car. My heart was beating widely in my chest and my hands shook but I didn’t have time to dwell on almost dying, I needed to stop this before it became worse than it already was. 

“Mother fucker!” 

Glancing over my shoulder, I cursed when I saw Folio go down to the ground clutching his thigh, his gun skidding halfway down the long driveway. I crawled over to him, keeping my head down when I noticed that a couple more McManus guards had emerged from inside and now we were outnumbered; seven to nine. 

Blood oozed out from the wound on Folio’s thigh and I grabbed a handful of his shirt, ripping a large piece from it. 

“You’re alright; just a flesh wound,” I reassured him while fixing the makeshift tourniquet. 

“Where the hell did Roger find a gun?” Folio asked through clenched teeth when I squeezed too hard on his wound to stop the bleeding. 

“I’m about to find out,” I patted his cheek before ripping my gun from behind my pants and clicked off the safety. 

Using the open door of the SUV as a shield, I peered around it to see that four guards were lying dead on the ground, two were hiding behind the pillars of the manor for their own protection, and one was coming towards us. 

Firing off two rounds, both hitting the mark of the guard's chest, I watched him crumble to the ground and then gave a sharp whistle towards Jolly who was firing his weapon in the car through the shot-out back windshield. 

“Two on the porch!” I yelled over the sounds of gunfire. 

Jolly nodded and I gave him protection against the other two guards who were firing their weapons from behind a bush, he snuck up to the two guards hiding on the porch, their lives ending before they even noticed him. 

Now the numbers were in our favor so slowly rising to my feet, I stepped out from my shield and called out to the last two McManus guards. 

“You’re not walking out of this alive!” 

“Imeacht go fánach ort féin is ar do chnapán miúlach!” A deep voice rumbled out from behind the bus. 

A flash of red caught my attention and I forgot for a moment that Saoirse was outside when the shootout began. I could hear my heart in my ears with worry if she’d been hit but when I saw her slowly rise to her feet due to one of the guards pushing her to farther safety, I breathed a little. 

Until a gun went off to my left and with sharp eyes, I watched as the bullet hit Saoirse in the arm, blood splattering against the fading white paint of the house. 

“Bitch! That’s for Vincent!” Roger bellowed his victory. 

I let out a vicious growl as I tackled him to the ground, laying fist after fist into his face. Poor kid never saw me coming and gave no fight against me. By the time I finished, my knuckles were broken and raw, covered in not only my blood but his as well. Roger’s face was a mangled mess as he rolled over to his side, spitting out chunks of spit mixed with blood. For a final measure, I laid a swift kick to his stomach making sure he wouldn’t get up for a while. Through the white noise in my brain, I did my best to calm my breathing when I gazed over my shoulder to the carnage that lay in our wake; all thanks to Roger’s trigger finger. 

Besides Folio, all of my men were unharmed and it seemed as if Folio would be fine. However, out of nine McManus guards, only two remain. One held something to Saoirse’s arm while the other tossed his gun to the ground, showing us he surrendered. 

“Is she alright?” I called out to them. 

“Fuck you, Noah!” She spat, eyes almost as red with fury as the color of her hair. 

Yeah, she was fine.

Through the eerie silence of the night air, I watched as the front door carefully opened then both the McManus brothers stepped into the carnage. 

“Saoirse!” Murphy’s voice boomed. 

“She’s over here!” The one guard who was tending to her wound called out while pulling them out from behind the bushes. 

I sucked in a breath when I saw all the blood staining the gray long sleeve of her sweater as the guard quickly whisked her inside, her father right on her tail. The look of pure hatred was on Connor’s face as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“Whose bullet hit my niece?” He asked. 

I pointed to the broken body of Roger, who was still struggling to rise to his feet. “I’ll take care of him, I promise you.” 

Conner gave a curt nod before hooking his finger in my direction. “You. By yourself. Now.” 

Licking my lips, I nodded and handed over my gun to Ash, who looked at me with bewilderment in his eyes. 

“Are you insane?” He demanded. “You can’t go in there by yourself.” 

“If they wanted me dead, I would be,” I said with more reassurance in my voice than I was feeling. 

Giving a soft smile to the rest of my men, letting them know I’d be fine, I stepped back inside the manor with Conner close behind. 

SCARLETT

“What the fuck!” I screamed while pushing myself away from the table, but hissing as pain shot through my arm.

The doctor we had on standby informed me that it was merely a flesh wound I suffered and closed it up with a few stitches and some pills for the pain. 

“Watch your tongue,” my father warned while not looking away from his plate of food. 

“You just told me that I’m supposed to marry Noah Sebastian! How the fuck can I watch my tongue?! This is absurd! You can’t make that decision for me.” 

He pushed away his plate with a sigh and then steepled his fingers together. “I can because I am your father. And for the price of peace, I couldn’t deny his offer.” 

I nearly fell back into my seat at the dining room table. “His offer? This was his idea?” 

My Uncle Conner nodded. “That man is quite the negotiator. He didn’t want any more bloodshed and for a truce, he asked for your hand in marriage; we agreed on one condition.” 

“Oh, I can't wait to hear what this condition was,” I placed my hand on my hip. “Does he want a baby in a year? Do I have to abide by his command? Am I to be locked away in a castle for the rest of my life?” 

“Far from that,” my father lit his cigar, puffing the smoke into the air. “We agreed that you can marry him as long as he kill the man that shot you.” 

My eyes widened. “The kid? Fucking hell, dad! He can’t be more than twenty years old!” 

“Then he shouldn’t have been involved in a game that was designed for men!” My father’s fist slammed on the aged oak of the table. 

I didn’t even flinch, being so used to his outbursts like this. Instead, I fought back harder against this offer. 

“What about Cory?” I questioned. 

“Who?” My father’s thick brows furrowed as the age lines in his forehead creased. 

“The boyfriend,” my uncle informed him while swirling the ice cubes around in his cup. 

My father did a double take. “How the fuck do you know?” 

“Fuck you, I know shit,” he shrugged. 

“Very well,” my father sighed. “It’s not like this relationship would have worked out anyway. You will end it and move in with Noah by Friday.” 

“FRIDAY?!” I screeched. “That’s in two days!” 

“The wedding will be at the end of the month,” my uncle informed me. 

Too much information had been thrown at me all at once and I pinched the bridge of my nose to keep myself from crying. I typically wasn’t a crier but from the moment I laid my eyes on Noah Sebastian in the foyer of my home, all of my old feelings came rushing in like a tidal wave and I still didn’t have time to process that. 

“If I say no to this deal?” I shot back. 

Neither my uncle nor father said anything, simply motioned to the guns that lay next to their plates. Now, I knew they didn’t mean they would kill me. Instead, they would kill Noah and every last mother fucker who had anything to do with tonight.

“This is unbelievable!” I yelled while throwing my hands up and storming my way up the stairs to my bedroom. 

The sound of my door slamming shook the old bones of the manor and I yanked the ends of my hair with a scream. I despised not only this life but also the fact that I couldn’t do anything about this arrangement. Not when the lives of innocents were on the line. 

Innocents? They shot you! 

Shaking the thought from my mind, I fell back onto my bed with a groan. It was easy to tell that the kid was the one that started the unnecessary gunfight. Noah was only doing what he could to protect his people. 

Those gorgeous almond eyes haunted me for years, plaguing my entire existence since I first saw them freshman year of high school. I never could do anything about it, however, knowing that we ran in different circles and it was forbidden. His family ran the slums while mine ran the prestige wealth. 

The last I saw of Noah or any of those guys was the night of high school graduation. While Noah dropped out three months before, the rest of his friends walked across the stage and he was there for support. Our eyes locked across the vast space of the room. His hair was long but pulled back into a high bun, showcasing the sharpness of his cheekbones as he gave me a gentle smile. Of course, I had to ignore the pull of my heart strings, no matter how strong they were. 

If someone had told a teenage me that now, eight years later, I’d be marrying that man who captured my heart so long ago, I’d laugh in their face. 

Running a hand over my face, I sat up in bed and quickly dialed Cory’s number so I could deliver the news. On the eighth ring, he answered almost breathlessly. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi,” I played with the ends of my hair. “Do you have a minute to talk?” 

There was some rustling on his end before his breath came through. “I suppose.” 

Ignoring the tone, I took a deep inhale to prepare myself for breaking the news to him. “There’s no easy way to say this. But my father just informed me that he arranged a marriage for me. I have to move in with the guy on Friday. I tried to fight it, tried to fight for us, but I didn’t have a choice. It’s something I have to do.” 

There was a very long beat of silence on Cory’s end before his voice broke through. “Ok. Thanks for letting me know.” 

My heart dropped to the pits of my stomach. “W-what? That’s it?” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Scarlett? You said it yourself, you don’t have a choice in this. Why fight for something that has no end in sight?” 

I bit down on the inside of my cheek hard to not snap at him but eventually failed. 

“You know, you’re right. What’s the fucking point,” I seethed. 

Before I could hang up on him, I heard the click and stared down in disbelief at my now black screen. 

“What a piece of shit!” I bellowed while tossing my phone onto my bed. 

My knee bounced in anger, that conversation adding more fuel to the fire, and as much as I wanted to scream out my frustrations I knew that it would be futile. Instead, I dragged my feet into the large walk-in closet and began packing up things that I knew I would need in my new life. 

NOAH

Wiping away the blood from my rings, I stepped into the lobby of the quiet tattoo shop and noticed Nicholas closing up his section. 

“How’d it go tonight?” I wondered after tossing the rag into the bag he had opened. 

The one we planned on burning anyway so any evidence would be gone in the flames. 

“Slow night but those aren’t bad every once in a while,” he answered before motioning to the door I previously walked through. “All finished?” 

“Yeah, Jolly and Folio are cleaning it up. This one was messier than I would have liked. I’ll admit, the kid put up a hell of a fight,” I said while leaning against the wall with crossed arms. 

The tattooed muscles in my forearms flexed. 

“Did he say where he found the gun?” 

“Bought it off of someone on the street before we left that night. Apparently, he had a feeling I wouldn’t allow him to have one and he felt like he needed protection,” I informed Nicholas. 

Who, in turn, snorted while packing up his tattoo gun. “A lot of good it did.” 

My lips parted to speak but with the sound of the bell dinging above the door, revealing that someone had stepped inside. 

“Sorry, we’re closed,” the words died in my throat when I saw who walked inside. 

Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid, her green eyes standing out amongst everything else about her. She carried two suitcases behind her and one large duffel bag on her shoulder. 

“Hi,” I said while standing straight up. 

All of the breath inside of me left me with a whoosh of air as the excitement of our arrangement finally filled me. When I first brought up the idea to the McManus brothers, I fully expected them to deny it. Much to my surprise, they agreed almost immediately with the exception that I take care of Roger, as promised. 

Not even an hour after sending the picture to Murphy, his daughter was standing in front of me; bags in tow.

“Hi?” Saoirse scowled. “Do you know what the fuck I had to go through to get here? The number of times I had to circle the building to find somewhere to park? Two blocks away. Not to mention, how many homeless people stopped me along the way to ask for either money or drugs? And all you can say is hi?” 

Biting my lip at my smile, I walked over to the receptionist's desk to rest my elbows on it. 

“Are you finished?” I teased with a playful gleam in my eyes. 

She scoffed, appalled. “Am I finished? No, Noah. Far fucking from it. How dare you bid for my life without my consent? This isn’t the 1900’s where this was a common thing! I have a say in who I should marry!” 

“Then why are you here?” 

Saoirse pursed her lips and when I realized she had nothing to say back, I pushed off the counter to close the distance between us, my height towering over her. 

“Let’s get one thing straight. I didn’t pay for you. I don’t plan on holding you prisoner here. You have a say with anything and everything however to keep the peace from stumbling into my empire, if I had to arrange for your life, you bet your fucking ass I would do.” 

Her lips mimicked a fish and when her shoulders slumped in defeat, I held out my hand to her. “Keys.” 

“Excuse me?” She raised a brow. 

“Give me your keys. OMNS Legacy Villas has underground parking. There’s already a reserved spot for you,” I informed her. 

Shoving the keys in my hand, she sliced her eyes into me. “If it says Saoirse, change it.” 

I quickly tossed the keys to Nicholas, who understood and slipped out of the shop to retrieve her car. 

“Change it?” I repeated her words. 

“The only people who call me that are my father and uncle. Everyone else calls me Scarlett,” she tossed her bags on the ground at my feet before crossing her arms over her black sweater. 

This sass that fell from her blood-stained lips made me want to toss her onto the counter, rip off that sweater, and attack every inch of her skin with my teeth but I refrained. Instead, I brushed a hand through my hair and smiled. 

“Scarlett it is.” 

Scarlett glanced out the large window in front of the shop, watching as people walked past, every single one of them dealing with something in their own lives. The trash that littered the street was figuratively and literally. I had to admit that when I first opened up my empire here, the slums were extremely bad but with my help and funding, the streets had been cleaned up immensely; with a few stranglers still lurking around. 

Especially in the underground. 

“I don’t understand how you live here. The homeless, the drug deals, and the illegal activities I saw walking in here. It’s disgusting,” she shivered. 

I stood next to her now, stuffing my hands in the back pockets of my pants. “Welcome to the Concrete Jungle, Scarlett.” 

She turned her head up to me as I bent low towards her, my warm breath fanning those beautiful lips. “Where I’m the fucking king.” 

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian x ofc #mafiaboss!noah sebastian #tattooartist!noah sebastian #the coyotes cry noah sebastian #noah sebastian fan fictions

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: All That You Are

Plot: A chaotic press conference precedes a match that ends in violence.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: f!reader, language, minor violence

A/N: I’m gonna chalk this week’s chapters up to having some free time and also being really motivated to get to the next few. Phew, let me tell you…this is the last chance I’m giving y’all to breathe. The final act kicks off in the next chapter and we don’t stop till the very end…so everybody enjoy the fluff and the jokes while you’ve got them 🙃

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged and, as always, enjoy!

————————

AFC Richmond’s hot streak just…kept…going.

They were killing it, both at matches and training. More importantly, they were happy. Joyful, even. Which meant everyone else was too.

More and more fans started showing up to watch training till eventually, the stands were packed. Y/n had begun to come out more often, genuinely enjoying watching the boys practice, and had found a way to make it a PR matter. She helped get the crowd riled up, engaging with them and encouraging them to cheer and chant for their players. She’d collected whatever merchandise they had a surplus of, pens or coffee mugs usually, and made a game of handing them out to the fans that came. Ted had encouraged her to keep doing it, it only further fostered the atmosphere he wanted to create.

Y/n hurried upstairs one day in particular, having missed the alarm set on her phone while she was hauling a bag of freebies from the gift shop to her office. She was never late and felt like she was going to burst into flames for being so.

“Whoa,” Ted called, just a few steps behind her, “Someone call Allyson Felix. Let her know she better watch her back.”

Y/n hung back on the landing to catch her breath, falling back in step once Ted caught up. “We ran out of the mugs the other day but I’ve got coasters and coozies for this afternoon.”

“Ooh,” Ted exclaimed, “You’ve been killin’ it in the swag department, missy. Everyone’s a little more hyped knowing they get a prize just for participation.”

Y/n grunted, “Trophies for doing nothing is also why my generation hates work, so don’t applaud me yet.”

They entered Rebecca’s office laughing only to find the atmosphere contrasting their good moods. Spread out on the couch, Keeley had her face buried in Rebecca’s lap.

“Uh-oh,” Ted announced his presence, “When girl-talk turns into girl-hug, you know that either means something horrible’s happened, or absolutely nothing at all.”

“Please say nothing at all,” Y/n set her purse down and grabbed the takeaway box Rebecca had ordered for her.

“Jack’s ghosting Keeley,” their boss explained.

“Oh, no,” Ted frowned.

Y/n sunk into the cushion beside Keeley, rubbing her shoulder as the blonde snuggled back under Rebecca’s arm.

“First, she wants to go on a break,” Ted recounted, “And now the old digital Irish goodbye. Which is a term I never really understood. ‘Cause I got a buddy back home named Seamus O’Malley, and that son of a gun hugs folks goodbye for, like, twenty minutes before he leaves anywhere.”

Y/n smiled down at her salad. The last few months may have softened her, but decades could pass and Ted would remain the same.

“Yeah,” he looked to Keeley, “Sorry to hear about that. Hey, I did make you some biscuits, you know, just to soften the blow.”

“Oh, thanks Ted,” Keeley took the pink package from him and opened it. Her eye blew open, “What? There’s like forty quid in here.”

“Well, I didn’t know you were gonna be here till this morning,” Ted explained, “No time to do anything special so I just tossed a little cash in there.”

Keeley nodded, “That is very sweet. Thank you, Ted.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to it but to do it,” he shrugged, turning to Rebecca, “Hey, boss. You mind if I skip the press conference today? Michelle and I got these parent-teacher meetings I don’t wanna miss.”

Rebecca shrugged and smiled, “Of course, Ted. Family first.”

“I appreciate it.”

“So…” Y/n trailed off, “Who’s next in line?”

A metaphorical lightbulb went off over Keeley’s head. “We could have Roy do it,” she suggested, “I know he hates that stuff, but he is really good at it.”

Y/n struggled to see the “good” part of how Roy handled the press. On her last count, he’d cussed out no more than six reporters.

“I mean, you know, fine by me,” Ted replied.

Rebecca agreed, “Great idea.”

“Look at you,” Ted smiled at Keeley, “Heartbroken, but still kickin’ butt.”

“I mean, I’m not heartbroken,” Keeley fidgeted in her seat, “It’s more like heart-bent.”

“Heart-bent,” Ted mused, “I like that. It’s a great title for a country song. You know, like,” he began to sing, “I’m heart-bent, in my apartment, ‘cause all that you left, was your fart scent.”

“Alright. Goodbye, Ted,” Rebecca cued him up to leave, though Keeley was laughing and Y/n was smiling through a bite of spinach.

“And now that you’re gone,” Ted continued on his way out to the hall, “I wrote this song, ‘cause all you left was, the smell of your farts.”

Y/n pointed to the door with her fork, “Speaking on behalf of our homeland, we can do better than that.”

Rebecca snorted and Keeley rested her head on Y/n’s shoulder.

“Right,” she held out her hand, “Show me.”

Keeley handed it over and Y/n bore witness to the mile long chain of texts her boss had sent their boss. It was embarrassing to say the least, but Y/n wasn’t about to kick Keeley when she was already laid out.

“Wow,” she strained as she scrolled.

“I know,” Keeley moaned.

“It’s like a river,” Y/n mused as she surfed the rest of the blue bubbles, “Can you promise one thing?”

Keeley hummed.

Y/n handed her phone back, “No more. She’s the one that stomped on you, she gets to do the groveling.”

And grovel she should. From what Keeley had told Y/n, Jack had handled their conversation regarding the video leak and the so-called “statement” horrifically. Jack seemed offended that Keeley had dared to have a meaningful relationship before her. It was jealousy where jealousy didn’t belong.

Whereas Y/n was still struggling to comprehend Jamie and Keeley ever having been together.

“I won’t, I won’t,” Keeley threw her phone on the other side of the couch, “I’m done.”

“Good,” Y/n nodded firmly.

“And that’s all you’ve got to say?” Keeley asked with a raised brow, “Nothing else?”

Y/n purposefully filled her mouth with a far-too-large bite of lettuce. She had plenty to say on the matter, Keeley knew damn well, but she was determined not to do so unless there was a confirmed break-up. After all, Jack was still their boss.

“Nope,” she mumbled.

Rebecca and Keeley descended into a fit of snorts.

Later, the three women were were seeing Keeley out to her car. Roy was just coming down the hall when they came off the last step.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Rebecca said.

“Okay,” Roy replied before looking to his ex. An awkward silence came about for three seconds, though it felt like much longer. “Keeley.”

“Roy,” she nodded back to him.

Rebecca, blissfully, pulled them out. “So I need you to fill in for Ted at today’s press conference, if that’s okay.”

Roy didn’t hesitate in his reply, “Fuck no.”

Keeley, Rebecca and Y/n were just as unflinching as they waited for the answer to change.

“I mean,” Roy backtracked, “Why can’t Ted do it?”

His eyes went from woman to woman, waiting for one of them to answer or crack or…something.

Or nothing.

“I mean,” he pasted an unnatural grin to his face, “I’d love to.”

Y/n pointed a finger and nodded.

“Wonderful,” Rebecca replied, looking to Keeley and Y/n, “Shall we?”

The three of them left Roy in the hall, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

“Fuck,” he said rather loudly.

“I heard that,” Rebecca smirked.

“You still have my word,” Y/n remarked to her boss, “Send me up there, I’ll give them all they want to know. Sell everybody out. We’ll be on every front page in the country.”

Rebecca laughed, though Keeley missed it entirely. She was too busy glancing back at Roy.

—————————

Later in the afternoon, with the press conference a few minutes away from starting, Y/n swung by her office to pick up the notes she’d jotted down for Roy.

As she grabbed her notebook, she noticed there was a tea sitting next to her laptop.

She picked it up and examined it. It had come from the café, her name was written on the side in the big loopy handwriting Delilah, the barista, used. Assuming she wasn’t being set up to be poisoned, she took a sip and accepted the anonymous kindness.

Y/n made it down to the press room, meeting Higgins in the back and waiting for Roy to enter.

The door opened, and Beard walked through.

Y/n’s face dropped, “Um…”

“Where’s Ted?” Higgins asked.

“Where’s Roy?” Y/n corrected, “He’s supposed to be filling in.”

Beard took his seat at the desk, “Good afternoon. I know you all were expecting Ted, but he couldn’t make it today. I, however, will be happy to answer any and all questions, so,” he gestured to the desk filled with recorders and phones, “Fire away.”

Y/n took a breath, it wasn’t so bad. Beard, while not always the most sociable, was well-spoken and highly intelligent. He might have even been a better choice than Roy for his mood alone.

She regretted every thinking such a thing within two minutes.

“Look, man,” Beard sat back in the chair, “We can debate all day, Zeppelin versus Eagles, but one thing that is absolutely not up for debate is Walsh versus Page.”

“Oh, come off it,” the man fired back, “You honestly think it’s Walsh over Page?”

Y/n whispered to Higgins, “How did this go so far off the rails this fast?”

“I don’t know,” he replied.

She handed him her tea, “Hold this.”

Y/n quietly and calmly exited the room, breaking into a light jog in the hall and up the stairs. She knocked on Rebecca’s open door but didn’t bother to be invited in.

“Hi,” she greeted quickly, “Um, did something happen to Roy in the two hours since he was last seen?”

Rebecca’s brow lowered, “No, why?”

Y/n thinned her lips to a line, “You might wanna come downstairs.”

Without question, Rebecca followed her down and into the press room. Things had taken another turn in the minute Y/n had disappeared for.

“That is not what I said, Gary,” Beard angrily pointed to the reporter in question.

“I have your quote right here,” Gary chuckled.

“You did say it, Coach,” another on agreed.

“Stay out of this, Lloyd,” Beard snapped.

“Don’t shout at Lloyd,” Sarah, another reporter, said.

Y/n flattened her palm against her forehead.

“You said, and I quote,” Gary looked down at his notes, “‘Joe Walsh is a better guitarist than Jimmy Page.’ That’s what you said!”

Beard leaned back in his chair, exasperated by the fight he’d started. “Fine! I said it,” he spread his arms out in defeat, “But what I meant was that Joe Walsh, underrated. Jimmy Page,” he got stuck on the last word in his rage, “Overrated!”

The room was arguing amongst itself.

“I mean, Joe Walsh is a poet,” Beard went on, “Jimmy Page is a fucking court stenographer on Adderall.”

As the room digested the answer in shock, and amusement, Y/n reached out to Higgins, retaking her tea and taking a large swig as if it were wine.

“Are you out of your mind?” Gary laughed, “Page could beat Walsh with one string.”

“What do you mean, beat him?” Beard replied angrily, “It’s not a competition, man. It’s art, you fucking Neanderthal!”

Y/n, Higgins and Rebecca surged forward at the same time.

“Hello,” Rebecca cheerily announced, trying to draw the attention to herself while Higgins grabbed Beard, who was still arguing with Gary. “Hello! Hello!”

Y/n acted as a shield for Higgins as he walked Beard out of the room, dropping him in the side hall. But not before Beard could get in one last insult.

“‘Stairway to Heaven’” is a glorified fingering exercise, and you all know it!”

Higgins smiled at the press as he shut the door, Y/n blindly reaching behind to help him push against Beard’s weight.

“I can’t think of the last time I was able to be here with all you absolutely…” Rebecca spoke loudly over the noise of Beard still yelling into the door. Y/n and Higgins blocked his face from view. “Just brilliant members of the press down here in the pressroom. So with that in mind, I would love to take some questions. Come on,” Rebecca spread her arms welcomingly, “Absolutely ask me anything.”

“Oh, shit,” Y/n mumbled. This wasn’t any better.

Marcus from The Independent announced himself when Rebecca nodded towards him.

“Hello there, Marcus,” she greeted, “How are you?”

“Very well.”

“Good, good.”

“Miss Welton,” Marcus asked, “In your opinion, who’s the greatest classic rock guitarist of all time?”

Rebecca stuttered a bit, stuck on the question that had her blanking out on any rock she’d ever listened to.

“The, uh…” she struggled, “The…guy from Cream.”

Higgins snorted, Y/n buried her head in her hand as the pressroom quietly and collectively laughed.

“Uh…” Rebecca began.

“I think,” Y/n came to stand beside her boss, grinning abnormally large, “That in the wake of our recent wins, we’re all still a bit hazy from the excitement. I think we’re going to call this for the day, but we’ll be ready and waiting for you after the match this Sunday against Brighton. Thank you so much!”

Y/n placed her hands on Rebecca’s back and marched her towards the door.

“Uh, Ms. Y/l/n,” Marcus spoke up, “Care to comment on who you think the greatest guitarist is?”

“Keith Richards,” Y/n answered, “Purely because he’s still standing.”

Whatever reaction she’d caused, she didn’t hear them. Her and Higgins had gotten Rebecca safely out into the hall.

“Sorry about that,” she shuddered.

“You’re alright,” Y/n patted her shoulder.

“‘The guy from Cream,’” Higgins giggled.

“Yes, all right,” Rebecca twisted to face Higgins, “Don’t start with me, Leslie! I panicked,” she took a seething breath, “I’m going to murder Roy Kent.”

“If you don’t, I will,” Y/n exhaled.

“Look, Roy not doing press is just Roy being Roy,” Higgins stated.

Y/n gestured to the door they’d just come out of, “And look where it got us.”

“Well, I am sick of Roy being Roy,” Rebecca spat, hands on her hips, “So it’s time for Rebecca to be Rebecca.”

Without another word, she marched off in the direction of the training room. The boys would nearly be done with their afternoon workout.

“Oh, yes,” Higgins agreed, “Absolutely- I couldn’t,” he turned with Y/n to watch Rebecca strut away from them, “Yeah. There you go. Yes! Ooh!”

Y/n breathed a laugh, if anyone rubbed off on her from Richmond, she hoped it was Rebecca. There was a fierceness inside her that Y/n had never possessed in her life, but she’d have liked to.

“Stay for the aftermath?” Higgins asked.

“Oh, definitely,” Y/n nodded. She wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to stare down Roy.

Quick enough, Rebecca marched back up the stairs, Roy following thirty seconds later. While Higgins’ best frown was still his worst smile, Y/n glared at the coach unflinchingly. He did his best to ignore them both on the way up to Rebecca’s office.

“Another day,” Y/n mumbled, her and Higgins heading their separate ways for the rest of the afternoon.

As she walked down the hall, some of the boys came out of the training room. She high-fived them before coming up on Jamie, bringing up the rear.

He flicked the cup of tea, still in Y/n’s hand, and smirked. “Cheers.”

Y/n looked back and met his waiting gaze, the two of them sharing a smile. The days at Nelson Road grew more unpredictable the further into the season they got, but some things were as constant as breathing.

——————

The day of the Brighton match started as normal as any other. Y/n made the familiar trek to the owner’s box, taking a seat between Keeley and Higgins, and braced for the ninety minutes of nerves she both hated and loved.

“Oh, it’s Jack,” Keeley announced as she scrolled her phone. The three of them sat to attention as they waited to hear the text, “She’s saying that she’s in Argentina…for the next couple of months.”

“Ouch,” Higgins commented. Y/n scoffed while Rebecca pulled Keeley into her side.

“Well,” Keeley took a breath, “I think our break is actually an ‘up.’ So now that Jack is officially my ex,” she looked between the group, “Please feel free to say any of the things that you didn’t like about her.”

Rebecca sighed, “Well-“

“Ooh,” Higgins chimed in, “Her handshake was way too firm. You know-“ he groaned and grunted as he imitated the action, “I get it. You’re friendly. Good riddance.”

Y/n bit down on her bottom lip, trying to keep the comments from flying out her mouth.

“Something you’d like to say, Y/n?” Keeley asked knowingly.

Shaking her head, she tried to go the diplomatic route. “Just want to watch some football.”

Keeley slowly nodded, staring out at the field with her.

“And she’s a fucking asshole,” Y/n muttered as low as she could to let only Keeley hear it. They smiled to one another.

Right off the bat, the Greyhounds were struggling. Isaac, usually so focused, was off his game. He cost them a goal kick and earned Brighton a corner instead. It wasn’t like him and the fans were letting their displeasure be known.

Even worse, when Colin lost an easy goal, Isaac went after him. The two of them argued until Jamie and Sam, playing peacemaker, held Isaac back from following Colin any further.

Y/n frowned, something had to have happened before the match. The boys were far more in sync than this, and they sure as hell didn’t fight each other.

The first half ended on the heels of Dani just nearly making a goal, only for Brighton to block it. The score was 1-nil as the Greyhounds trudged back to the locker room.

Higgins, Y/n, Rebecca and Keeley went silent as the fifteen minute break began. There wasn’t anything to say.

Y/n’s eyes were glazing over the crowd on the opposite side of the stadium when a commotion started. She followed the noise to the tunnel to see Isaac, leaping into the stands and grabbing one of the fans.

“Oh my gosh,” she mumbled. Keeley, Rebecca and her all rose to their feet.

With the distance, the scene could hardly be seen properly, but it appeared that Isaac was holding the fan by the shirt and yelling in his face. The ref had never pulled the red card out so fast. It was unprecedented and unacceptable.

Higgins rushed out his seat, the women moving to make room for him down the aisle. Y/n’s eyes followed Roy as he helped Isaac down and started shouting something to the security guards.

The scene died down as quickly as it began. The fan was escorted out of the stadium and the Greyhounds disappeared into the tunnel.

“What the hell was that?” Rebecca finally asked.

“I don’t know,” Keeley breathed.

Internally, Y/n began to feel some sort of panic build. She couldn’t decipher the complexities of it, all she knew was she had to move.

“Where are you going?” Rebecca asked as Y/n slid past them.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled Keeley’s same answer, already climbing the stairs.

She hurried through the suite, past all the fans opening social media to post that they’d witnessed the fight themselves. Past all the fans in the concourse exclaiming how McAdoo was about to fucking kill the twat. Y/n couldn’t hear any of it as she made for the personnel-only entrance into the building.

When she made it to the empty hall outside the locker room, she faltered. Her immediate reaction would be to run in, but she knew it was far from appropriate. Her hand instinctively reached toward the door, even with feet of space between her and it. She couldn’t.

Nearly as soon as she’d thought it, Isaac came bursting through the door, unaware of her presence as he stalked to the boot room. He slammed that door shut and Y/n flinch at the sound.

Ten seconds later, Roy came out much more peacefully, but still with purpose.

Y/n stepped forward, her movements and her voice hesitant, “Hey-“

Roy could see the concern etched deeply in her face and touched her arm as he passed. “I got it.”

It wasn’t often that Roy wasn’t scowling, wasn’t speaking like he smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. For him to speak softly, to voluntarily comfort someone, he had to have meant it.

Y/n stood frozen as he shut the door to the boot room, all the pieces of her reaction making sense suddenly. After Isaac had attacked the fan, her first thought hadn’t been about PR. It hadn’t been about the clean-up her and Keeley would have to do, the stress of it all. It hadn’t had anything to do with what the internet would think or the fans or anyone.

Her first thought was to wonder if Isaac was okay.

She knew by now she cared about AFC Richmond. She had a special affection for Rebecca and their weekly tea. Keeley had cracked her way past Y/n’s gates simply by being herself. Ted was the nicest slice of home she could have gotten.

This was different. This was caring so deeply for the team that she was standing in the hall, unmoving until she knew they were all alright.

It was no longer about letting them in, Y/n knew, it was about how deeply etched in her heart they were.

She waited, waited, the whole fifteen minutes, hearing only the muffled mumbles of the team’s conversation through the doors. When they cheered and exited the room, their spirits seemingly lifted, none of them even noticed her against the wall.

Y/n moved to stand outside the boot room, catching Colin and Trent as the last ones to exit the locker room. Trent threw her a small salute that she matched, before heading out to his own seat. She still wasn’t leaving until she knew all was well.

Eventually, Roy came out of the boot room with Isaac in tow. The disgraced captain glanced up at her as he passed, Y/n made a point to squeeze his arm. He didn’t flinch at her touch, but didn’t make a point of lingering as he headed to the locker room to wait the game out.

As Y/n inhaled, Roy nodded, “He’s alright.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

The two of them walked back to their separate paths, Roy heading out to the pitch and Y/n heading back to the owner’s box.

The match turned around after that, tremendously so. The Greyhounds had hit the pitch united once more, particularly Colin, who’d assisted in both goals that had led them to victory. Balance seemed to have been restored, and while Isaac would still be the most memorable part of the game, Colin’s efforts wouldn’t be forgotten.

And, as always, Y/n’s work began the moment the ref called it.

There were strict instructions from both Keeley and her to Higgins not to grab any of the players. They’d no doubt be asked about their captain’s actions and none of them needed to deal with that stress. Ted was the only one who could comfortably handle it.

They waited with Rebecca in the back of the room, Higgins and Trent joined them at the last minute.

“He’s on his way,” Higgins said.

“Thank you, Leslie,” Rebecca replied before turning to Keeley and Y/n, “You gave Ted some talking points?”

Keeley frowned, “No. I haven’t done that in a long time.”

“Not for a while,” Y/n added.

The side door opened before Rebecca could truly begin to worry. Where Ted should have strolled in, Roy did instead.

“Fuck,” Y/n whispered, punctuated by a gag from Higgins.

Roy took a seat at the desk, staring down the entire room. No one was wearing their surprise well.

“Yeah, alright, you got me today,” he growled, “Any questions?”

Every reporter’s hand went up, all of them shouting to get Roy’s attention.

“Fucking hell,” he mumbled before pointing to one of them, “You. Five-o’-clock shadow head.”

Gary, self-proclaimed Jimmy Page fan, stood up. “Coach Kent, do you or the organization condone what Isaac McAdoo did today?”

“What a stupid fucking question,” Roy was quick to reply, Rebecca, Higgins and Y/n all screwing their eyes shut. “‘Course we don’t. What Isaac did was awful. He was lucky he only got a red card.”

“Okay,” Gary relented, “So why’d he do it?”

Roy chuckled, looking like he was nearly about to say something before stopping himself. Instead of cursing or snarking, he settled back in his chair.

“When I was first coming up through Sunderland, there was an old-timer on the team,” Roy began, “Local guy. He and his wife were about to have their first kid. So during training one day, I made a joke that statistically, I was probably the real dad. And the boys fell about laughing, but he went fucking nuts. He battered me. Properly. I had a black eye, chipped tooth, three broken ribs…I couldn’t play for six games. He got booted off the team. After that,” Roy shook his head, “No club would go near him.”

“Then in the summer, after I could breathe again,” he went on, “I bumped into him in a pub. And I got the chance to say sorry for my stupid fucking joke. And he got to tell me he and his wife had lost the baby a month before all that went down. He hadn’t told anyone. Kept it all inside.”

The room had fallen hush, save for the occasional click of a camera.

“Look, I get that some people think if they buy a ticket,” Roy’s voice regained its strength, “They’ve got the right to yell whatever abusive shit they want at footballers. But they’re not just footballers. They’re also people. And none of us,” he dragged his finger across the room, “Know what is going on in each other’s lives.”

“So for Isaac to do what he did today, even though it was wrong,” Roy pointed to his chest, “I give him love. And as for why he did what he did,” he leaned closer to the microphones, “That’s none of my fucking business.”

That was it. There was nothing left to say. Roy had handled it with more grace and patience than anyone could have expected.

Y/n smiled to herself, “Okay.”

“Next question,” he called to the room, which erupted back into shouts and flashes, “Yeah, new Trent.”

“Coach,” Marcus spoke up, “Let’s talk about Colin Hughes.”

“Yeah, he’s a hell of a player,” Roy answered, “And a great man. I think we’ve underused him.”

“I think you’re right,” Marcus said.

“Glad we agree,” Roy replied, “I prefer you to old Trent.”

The room laughed before Roy called on the next reporter. Rebecca and him shared a look of acknowledgement, this was making up for his ditching of the last presser.

Roy went on answering questions a few minutes longer before abruptly calling it. As everyone was saying their goodbyes for the evening, Y/n caught him in the hall.

“You did good,” she complimented.

Roy grunted a little, still bad at taking praise about anything other than his professional abilities. “Sorry if I…made your job harder the other day.”

She shrugged, “No more so than anyone else. You’re just more of a dick about it.”

Having said it with a smile Roy knew Y/n wasn’t serious…totally. His lips quirked up ever so slightly.

“Night, Roy,” Y/n said, hitting his arm as she walked past him.

“Cheers,” he replied, heading his own way.

—————————

While the day was a victory, Jamie was exhausted. Some of the boys had gone out to celebrate, he was one of the ones who decided heading home was more appealing.

A ring of the doorbell dragged him off his couch and into the entryway. He opened the door, his chest both filling and draining at the sight.

Y/n was leant against the frame, a soft smile on her lips. She held up a paper takeaway bag.

“I won’t tell Roy if you don’t,” she promised.

Jamie chuckled under his breath and moved to let her in.

It wasn’t just the match that’d worn Jamie out. Colin’s confession in the locker room was…heavy. Weighing most on Colin, of course, but when the celebratory noise had died down and Jamie was left to his own thoughts, he found they were louder than normal.

Y/n showing up only acted as an amplifier.

Here was Colin, hiding away one of the biggest parts of himself. Forced to keep the person he loved in the shadows for fear of the public’s reaction. He couldn’t hold them, couldn’t be seen with them, couldn’t claim them. The person who meant everything to him.

And here was Jamie, with the woman he cared about most standing before him, feeling the weight of his privilege.

“Samir was working tonight,” Y/n announced as she slipped off her shoes, “He kept asking me if I was buying for us both. I think he slipped in some extra-“

She was cut off by Jamie, wrapping his arms around her in a full embrace.

Jamie wasn’t good with words. He was barely good with feelings. And expressing them was a whole other matter. What he did know to be true was that Y/n was the singular most important person in his life. Whether he’d realized it before or not, he wasn’t sure. But it was suddenly crushing him, he was overwhelmed by his affection for her. She was the best part of his worst times, the highlight of his days. The literal sunshine lighting up the darkest parts of him, the parts everyone else looked at and ran from. But not her, never her.

Y/n stumbled a bit, Jamie steadying her as he tugged her to his body. It wasn’t like they never hugged, but this felt different. The whole day had been so emotionally charged, she wasn’t surprised that he was feeling some of it. She wasn’t sure what had happened in the locker room between halves or after the game, but whatever it was had done something to him, and she apparently was the solution.

The truth was, Jamie was the first person Y/n hadn’t tired of being there for. She wanted to save him at every possible opportunity. To be there for him in whatever way he needed her. Lord knows he had done it enough for her. He’d looked at her ugliest parts and matched them, the two of them somehow growing together through their horrible histories. Some relationships were easily replaced, but there could never be another Jamie.

Y/n slid her arms around Jamie’s back, stealing some of the comfort for herself.

Jamie rested his chin on her shoulder, shutting his eyes and letting the moment wash over him. The world could stop, just for a moment, and it would be there when they broke apart. But for now, Y/n was all he wanted to feel.

They stayed in the hall, clinging to one another, having only unwrapped the first layer of what all they felt meant.

—————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

#ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso imagine #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso x reader #rebecca welton x reader #keeley jones x reader #heartfirst

[atimeofyourlife]

A song for the night

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: open mic night | rated: t | wc: 689 | tags: pre-steddie Eddie performs at open mic night at the bar Steve works at

Open Mic Night was somehow both Steve's favorite and least favorite night of the month to be working the bar. It was his favorite because it usually wasn't too busy, and he got to enjoy the local talent of musicians and comedians. It was his least favorite because for every one good or half decent act, there were five or six bad ones. And unlike the patrons of the bar, he couldn't just go out for a smoke during every comedian whose jokes sat firmly in the misogynistic, homophobic, and racist categories, or every tone-deaf singer that didn't understand how to tune an instrument. And to top it all off, he had to be the one to get up on the stage between each act, enthusiastically thanking them, trying to rouse something of an applause, before introducing the next act.

It was after a frightfully painful comedic routine, that seemed to have consisted solely of the guy talking about how much he hated his wife, that Steve caught sight of him. An attractive guy with long dark hair.

"Okay, thank you Derrek, for that interesting comedy routine. Everybody, give it up for Derrek." Steve kept his voice full of fake enthusiasm as he brought his hands together a few times. He then checked the list for the name of the next act. "And next up, we have another local musician. Please welcome Eddie Munson to the stage." Steve clapped a few more times as he made his way offstage, heading back behind the bar. He glanced up at the stage, and saw the most handsome man he'd seen in his entire life. It felt like it didn't matter whether or not this Eddie was any good, Steve was going to enjoy just watching him.

He couldn't keep staring the entire time, having to serve drinks to the other patrons of the bar, but his attention did keep getting drawn back to the man on the stage. He looked and sounded incredible, playing an acoustic medley of metal songs. Steve had to shake himself out of it after he'd gotten distracted while pouring a drink, overfilling the glass and covering his hand in beer. He handed the beer over to the customer, before drying his hands on a paper towel. Thankfully, it was nearly time for the next act, so Steve made his way back to the stage, hoping that someone else being up there would help him focus on his work again. Eddie finished the last song, and stepped back from the mic, starting to pack down his guitar. Steve stepped on to the stage, applauding as he went.

"Now, wasn't that incredible, ladies and gentlemen. Everyone, give a hand for Eddie Munson." Steve said into the mic, not having to fake his enthusiasm as he clapped this time. "And after that amazing set, next up we have Tammy Thompson."

Steve went back to the bar, wincing at how this next singer sounded. She'd performed several times at previous open mic nights, giving Steve an in joke about her sounding like a Muppet with Robin.

He started serving drinks again, noticing how the bar had emptied significantly, most of the regulars heading out to smoke for a few minutes to save their sanity, Steve just wished he could join them.

"What can I get to make this sound better?" A voice asked.

Steve turned quickly to see Eddie, and it took him a moment to get his brain to formulate the words needed to respond. "Legally, I don't think I'm allowed to sell something that strong."

Eddie laughed at that, his laugh as breathtaking as his singing voice. "In that case, I'll just take a PBR."

"Sure." Steve grabbed the beer. "Anything else I could get for you?"

"Your number, maybe?"

Steve's eyes widened for a second as he blushed a deep pink. He scrambled for a pen and a napkin, scribbling down the number as neatly as he could. "Here. Maybe we could get a drink some time?"

They both winced as a particularly pitchy note came through the speakers. "Just not when it's another open mic night."

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #pre steddie #steddieholidaydrabbles #open mic night #stranger things #atimeofyourwrites

[darlingsinscriptions]

Caramel Surprise

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Tags: fluff, no use of y/n, bakugou x reader, gender neutral, pro hero bakugou, cursing, the angst doesn’t even last a millisecond, its cute guys

You smiled to yourself as you quietly unlocked and shut the door. The bottoms of your shoes lightly thunked as they were taken off and gently placed onto the floor. So far so good, you applauded yourself, thinking back on a prior argument on whether or not you’d be a great stealth hero.

Fuck you, Katsuki, I’m doing amazing.

You giddily looked down at the box in your hands. Work had let out early and you were walking back to your apartment when you noticed the dessert displayed in the bakery window. A caramel crumble cake. Bakugou’s favorite.

He wasn’t expecting you to come over until later that evening. But, seeing as how such a dessert was a rare occurrence to be made at that establishment, you couldn’t pass up the chance to surprise your boyfriend.

Upon your request, the worker had pre-cut the cake and added a pair of paper plates.

The less work there was needed to be done, the less noise you’d make, the more of a surprise it can be when you sneak up behind him in his office.

Again, fuck you, Katsuki.

With the cake slice set onto a plate, you made your way towards the room that he’d probably been holed up in all day, paperwork never ending.

“I love you.”

You halted, the phrase sinking into your skin as those words poured over you in an instant.

Such words that should have elated you and filled you with overflowing affection toward their speaker.

But, there was no one around you. The confession wasn’t for you.

Your eyes flit to the room the voice had wavered from.

Bakugou’s bedroom.

Now, you weren’t blind to the concept of cheating. Countless nights of tv dramas, friends crying over the phone, and celebrity scandals made you well aware. But those characters were fake, those scandals a ploy, and those friends had shitty partners to begin with despite countless efforts by your friend group to sway them away beforehand.

None of those affected you. Such a thing wouldn’t happen in your life- couldn’t ever happen.

Never you.

Never with Bakugou.

Bakugou with his eyes always on you, his hand ready to block any surface you had the possibility of bumping into, the texts asking about your day, the pieces of clothing or knick knacks finding their way into your possession after staring at them a second too long, his lack of response or mumbles of irritation at those fangirls always throwing themselves onto him.

Never him.

And yet… why else would he be saying those words in the seclusion of his bedroom?

You wait with baited breath, expecting to hear another voice respond. Instead, you were met with a growl of frustration coming out of the room, turning your anxiousness into confusion.

Plate gently held closer to your chest, you slowly shifted your body enough for your head to peek through the doorway.

“Fuck.”

A punch to the wall.

“Stupid. This is stupid.” He gruffs out, fists now clenched at his side, eyes closed.

Frustration rolled off of him in waves, as it often did when things didn’t go his way. However, this time it didn’t last as long as usual. Running his hands through blonde locks, he took a deep breath and exhaled before lifting his head up and staring back at his crimson orbs reflected in the mirror.

You stared, eyes slightly wider, as he repeated those same three words over and over with different inflections, expressions, and adding on some sentences here or there as he fumbled with his hands, throwing a few more swears at attempts he didn't find particularly suitable.

Oh.

You don’t know how you managed to keep in your laugh. Not of ridicule towards his actions, but of relief it wasn’t what it could’ve been and adoration towards his nervousness.

Your Katsuki was so cute.

It was an endearing sight to watch. One that you didn’t want to tread on more than you already unintentionally did.

You tuck back away from the frame and make your way towards the kitchen. The slice settled back into the box, which was then closed and patiently waiting.

Slipping on your shoes, you grabbed the box and prepared to open the door.

Seems like your boyfriend had a surprise for you, too. Fingers gripped the knob as you smiled to yourself and tugged the door open.

And you’d gladly reciprocate it.

Whenever he was ready.

Without moving from your spot, you close the door with a thud.

“HEY, KATS, GUESS WHAT I HAVE!”

You smile triumphantly as he stumbled out of the room, face indifferent before the sparks lit up in his eyes upon seeing the dessert.

Yeah, you’d be a great fucking stealth hero.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x gender neutral reader #pro hero bakugou #bnha x reader #mha x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader

[oh-saints]

sunshine becomes you (pt. 4)

Being a footballer means Martin possibly has every resources in his whim. Well, except the one thing he needs now is only available in the hands of his (ex) girlfriend.

Grumpy!Martin Ødegaard x Sunshine!OC

Word Count: 4.0k

Note: please, please, please don't hate me for this lolol but we're going for a rollercoaster, odegirlies, so brace yourself! but as usual, i happen to write this around dawn so ofc not beta-read yet. feedbacks are welcome tho!

Tags: my lovely loves @julianalvarez9 @formula1tina @okayline @mehrmonga @mrswhitethornbelikov @notleclerc <3<3 (lemme know if you want to be added!)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5

It seemed Martin couldn’t operate around her if there was no false pretense standing between him and Eve.

The moment the clock literally struck 12, lightning struck back Eve’s life and returned them to normalcy. So normal that everyone else but her barely noticed the apparent changes unravelling around London Colney; she was back to Eve the receptionist, and Martin was back to his constantly-grumpy state to no one but Eve.

No more was the beautiful-looking couple captivating the entire Christmas Gala with their explosive, fantastic chemistry that shunned even the longest relationship existing in the same room.

She’d like to think going back to square one was better, given their real circumstances, but Martin wasn’t giving her any edges. Worse, he’d gone barely seen, and that was saying a lot when Eve was known to be the ghost of the building, for her immaculate presence all over the facility.

Some said he snuck in when Eve was always busy running errands; some said he arrived before anyone else in the morning; some said he clocked out later than the security team.

Final straw came when everyone was gathering in the canteen to bid Eve farewell on her very last day of working in the amazing club. Every single person working at London Colney—including Bob, even—applauded her for the fantastic job she’d been doing for the club, despite the short time shared on the grounds. A certain Norwegian blonde, however, remained unidentifiable until the 15-minute town hall before lunch ended.

Much to the front liner’s dismay, most turned to Eve about it. After all, Eve and Martin were still an item in their eyes. Eve could only do so much as replying, “we just don’t want you guys to be sick of us,” whenever the question of Martin’s avoidance towards crowds was raised, while chucking in the tears that were threatening to slide down her cheeks because she knew better—she knew the truth.

It shouldn’t be breaking Eve’s heart, but the damage had been done.

Eve wanted to badly lie to herself that she was doing that out of spite, that pulling out that degree of stupid stunt was her futile, foolish attempt to get him running after her like those chick-flicks she stashed in her library.

But Eve knew better—reality didn’t fit into Cinderella’s pair of glass heels, especially for someone like her, who fought for proper living standard every day to make ends. Eve and Martin were raised in different circumstances, made from worlds apart, meant for different purposes in life. There was no way they were going to be together—not in this lifetime nor any other alternate universes—as this wasn’t some written fairy tales.

She couldn’t afford a heartbreak when she’d foreseen the fruitless future if she were to share one with him, just like she couldn’t afford the gown she’d returned in the same satin box he’d delivered to her door.

This is for the better, she hypnotised herself as she placed the soft, expensive box on Martin’s bench, trying to pale the ache slicing through her chest. You have a realistic life to live.

Fuck rom-coms. She was going to discard each and every one left in her library as soon as she enjoyed her two-week notice.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

Obviously, with that being said, Eve didn’t have the heart to throw away the only outlets for her to escape the harsh reality for someone who came from a working-class family and inherited the reality of working 9-to-5 like her. Especially when those fake-dating tropes—ironically—reminded her of all the wonderful time she spent with Martin, no matter how fleeting and fragile those moments were.

Weeks after the Christmas Gala, Eve could now proudly say she thought of them as something precious because when else were you indulged in the luxury of being in Martin Ødegaard’s arms, acting or not?

Her best friend bit her ears off for taking the whole thing “like a champ”, as if her heart was made of steel when she was legitimately allowed to swallow the bitter pill while crying her heart out. Eve actually considered doing them, specifically during the first week after the painful no-show of her last day, but she decided against in and focused on the positive notes.

Dwelling over negatives wouldn’t turn around the fact that someone as great as Martin Ødegaard was destined for someone his calibre, someone that was definitely not Eve.

So it didn’t make any sense when she found Martin, already leaning against his car with hands in his pocket—undoubtedly hiding them against the cold air of a very early morning—as she walked down the porch of her flat. From where she stood, frozen at the unprecedented event unfolding before her eyes, his side profile gave away nothing but pursed lips, like he was holding off his thoughts from spilling.

Oh, how much Eve wanted a penny for that beautiful mind of his.

But she couldn’t. Unlike the night of the Christmas gala, Martin revoked her access to them. What used to be something easy for Eve to read between the lines was now guarded by a fence so high it put Wall of China to shame.

“Martin,” At his name being called, the owner of the name stood up straight, and—god damn it—Eve’s heart raced at the movement, for it reminded her of what happened between them in front of that sketchy backdoor toilet. “What are you doing here?

Despite being missing on action for weeks, Eve hated how much Martin still affected her, body and soul. She wasn’t even nearby Martin, distance between them were about 100 metres but might as well have the Atlantic between them like they used to be.

But no matter the palpable distance between where they respectively stood, Martin, on the other hand, would always be able to pick up her signature breathy voice that went only slightly above a whisper. It was the very sound he didn’t know he could miss hearing.

Like she was breathless, like he’d taken her breath away. The same way she did his.

If only he could tell her that… But instead of mulling over endless possibilities that couldn’t happen—not when Eve herself didn’t give them a chance, something she’d blatantly said at the end of Christmas gala—Martin stuck to the one thing he excelled at; choosing reality.

“Angel,” Words flowed effortlessly from Martin’s mouth but his smile was rather tight on the corners, and Eve hated it already when she knew first hand how blinding his real, true smile could be. “I see you’re going to the flower market.”

Had Eve’s eyes not focused on taking in Martin’s appearance, she would’ve swooned at the fact Martin remembered her little peculiar antics of getting a fresh set of flowers every Sunday from the flower market.

But his dishevelled presentation, so striking to the well-kempt display he always had everywhere, stole away her attention. It wasn’t only the mess on top of his hair, of his blonde locks gone astray to every direction; it was also the garments he threw on without a care in the world, all in black, like he was mourning.

His blue eyes descended to the deepest pit of the ocean, no longer shining in the glint she loved the most, especially bright against low lights. Like those eyebags were swallowing them whole, like those eyebags were a blackhole instead of dark circles.

His cheeks sunken, no longer protruding as high as a skyscraper, so different to the image of a Viking everyone labelled the captain as. If Eve didn’t know any better, she would’ve guessed Martin had undergone those cosmetic surgery of buccal fat removal.

He looked so haggard, as if he’d lost weight; exhaustion personified. She could only wonder why—perhaps Arsenal’s losing strike took a toll on him—since asking his well-being was not on the cards anymore, not since they stopped pretending to be lovers, not since Martin didn’t give them a chance.

Martin took his open opportunity when they fell into a pregnant silent. “I’ll take you there.”

“Why are you here?”

“I said I’m taking you to the flower market,” He said, as easy as the wind breezed past them. “What kind of boyfriend am I to let my girlfriend to roam around such crowded places so early in the morning?”

The indifference he showed, both in words and action, caught her off-guard. He was back to display the whole no-shit-sherlock attitude around her, complete with the expressionless face, like she should know the most obvious fact, and Eve had to remind herself that this was the real Martin, not the one that fooled everyone attending the Christmas gala.

Including Eve herself.

“You’re not my boyfriend, Martin.”

“In the eyes of the public, I am,” Martin shrugged his shoulder so nonchalantly, as if it didn’t hurt Eve to know he was doing just fine barging into her life like it was the most natural thing to do for him. “My family included.”

Wait, what?

“I need your help,” He continued, his hands moved from the pockets of his jacket to the pockets of his jeans. It scared Eve when he said those massive, literally burdensome words with squared shoulders and calm demeanour and collected composure—she felt like she was his opponent on the pitch. “My family went to the game today, only to be ambushed by many congratulations that I’ve scored a wonderful, lovely match of a girlfriend. One that that they don’t know of because it’s one I never tell them—”

“Because she doesn’t exist.”

“She did during the gala, but that’s not the point,” Martin had to grind out his teeth from the inside, the perfect epitome how her words gnawed his heart from inside out because while they were nothing but facts, it didn’t make them any less hurtful to him—and to what could’ve been between them. “They want to have lunch with you today.”

Martin let out the last sentence with a heavy puff of breath. With the way his jaw ticked tightly, Eve could tell he hated saying that, like he’d take any other option but to ask her to pretend once more if he had the chance.

Maybe he’d told his family about us pretending but his family didn’t accept such a ridiculous pretense that they forced him to talk to her, and that the lunch was merely their effort to amend them. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was,” See, he even wished to have nothing to do with me anymore. Did he hate me so much? “You should know by now that being honest with you is something I wish to uphold.”

 “Even when our relationship is a farce?”

Martin didn’t have the heart to answer it, and Eve didn’t have the heart to acknowledge the pregnant silence.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“You had a game today, you’re supposed to be resting.”

Boyfriend or not, Martin really intended to come along by Eve’s side to the flower market, despite her initial protests and complaints. No one in the right mind went to the flower market alone at 2 in the morning, without a proper transportation on top of that.

Taxi and Uber certainly didn’t count as a safety mode of transportation for Martin. You never know what can possibly happen in that small space of four-wheeler—we’ve seen too much of real-life cases that happens to women.

I’ve been doing this for ages, but she failed to realise that just because something never happened to her, it wasn’t going to happen. In Martin’s defence, he had a sister himself and he didn’t want anything bad happen to Eve the way he didn’t want them to happen to his sister.

I am used to this, Martin, but she didn’t have to get used to those things. She didn’t have to get used to all these dangerous things she downplayed as normalcy because he knew that she had the options, she’d definitely want to take the tube or buses. She could be having what her heart desires—she should be.

No matter what went down between them at the end of the day, Martin would certainly give her a flak if she settled with someone less than what she deserved.

And no, that lucky bastard didn’t have to be Martin.

It wasn’t going to be Martin anyway, Eve made it clear at the very end of their contractual relationship once a long while ago.

“Can’t sleep well lately, anyway.”

Martin’s phlegmatic manner was now in sync—his actions were now as schooled as his facial features. His hands ran down the flower petals thoughtlessly, not giving anything of his mind away, just like his hardened expressions. Aloof, and Eve took it as a sign to reduce her small talks.

“You should see Doc about it.”

“You think I haven’t done that?” Eve’s hearts plummeted along with the way he sputtered the words, as if she should be smarter about the whole ordeal, and this time Eve was the one who had to school her expression so Martin couldn’t see her disappointment towards his attitude—he must not see them. The last time she gave away too much of her, she ended up doing rom-coms marathon with a tube of Ben n Jerry’s. “Doc’s prescribed me something but it’s no use,”

It might be the stress talking…, Eve tried to reason with herself.

“I don’t see the point of meds, to be honest,” Martin let out another heavy sigh as his hand ran through his hairs, messing them in frustrations. “Not when I’ve been restless since you’re gone.”

How could she possibly have a proper response to that?

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“There they are!”

Martin didn’t even have the chance to open Eve’s door completely before his mother ran down the porch towards his car to engulf Eve in the warmest hug Eve had ever gotten from a woman. Funny—despite never meeting his mother before, Eve had the most familiar feeling around her, like they were old friends reunited, and she didn’t know what to feel.

Partly because she didn’t share the same sentiment with her own mother, partly because she felt guilty that his mother had already welcomed her in this house like she was truly Martin’s girlfriend when, in fact, she wasn’t even close to what the word meant.

It didn’t even take his mother a minute to lead her towards the house, like she owned the residential instead of a visiting his son’s abode, asking if Eve had any food allergy that she should be aware of. That was amongst the things she questioned; others were trivial questions in order to get to know his son’s girlfriend.

With the swift pace his mother was speaking, though, Eve had to look beyond his mother’s shoulder to throw a help-me look to Martin because there was no way she could survive this on her own.

Eve couldn’t bring to hate herself for always seeking Martin’s aid this time around, no matter how much she wanted to be free of him. Like she promised herself internally just before she plopped down beside Martin on the passenger seat.

“That’s enough, mamma,” Martin strode his way towards the two of them, one hand reached for his mother’s that was grippling the life of Eve to set Eve free, before both hands clenched her shoulder gently. “She hasn’t even taken off her coat, but she’s allergic to shrimp and other soft-shell seafood.”

“Oh no, I’ve made crayfish—”

“It’s okay, she can have your venison,” Eve didn’t have time to discern anything because everything happened at the same time she didn’t even have time to breathe, not even the fact that Martin had gained information on her allergies, so she was lucky Martin took over the conversation. She shed her coat when Martin wordlessly tugged the wool piece, both of their eyes still set on the powerhouse that was his mother, and at that interaction, the matron smiled wider. “By the way, my mother makes the best venison, solskinn. Glad you can finally try them.”

“Ah, the infamous roasted venison you love? What’s that called again?”

“Dyresteg,” His mother answered for her, before Martin could have the chance. At the speed of lightning his mother unknowingly possessed—at least, one that he got to know of until today, in front of Eve, more over—Martin forced himself to look up from the set of eyes that reminded him of the deer but belonged to Eve. “I see that Martin’s told you about his soulfood.”

“He can’t shut up about it,” Eve elbowed Martin teasingly and the man replied by faking pain at it, which resulted in them both laughing without constraint. Without an underlying justification called fake dating between them. “Maybe I should learn one thing or two while the master is here so I can cook them for you.”

“That’s—” Eve’s response, however, startled both Martin and his mother. While Martin was rather taken aback at the genuine tone Eve used—because now he really couldn’t draw the line which one was the real Eve, unlike the night of the Christmas gala—his mother was caught off guard because she couldn’t recall the last time someone had ever offered to do such thing for Martin. Living in a different country meant she couldn’t cook her son’s favourite dish whenever she wanted to, and so far the girlfriends her son managed to take home didn’t care about anything beyond the luxury he could give them. “That’s very lovely of you. I hope you bring your notes.”

But to say she liked Eve already would be an understatement. Eve didn’t make it difficult to take her into everyone’s good side, as well, and as a mother, Eve had nailed in the moment she typed down every instruction she was giving Eve to make the perfect dyresteg. And maybe also little moments where Martin stole little pecks on her cheeks from behind whenever he was getting his brothers and sisters something from the fridge—because she knew her son only did that out of gratitude, the same way he used to do it to his mother whenever she was cooking this particular favourite dish of his.

At one point of cooking, everyone was flocking the kitchen and before they knew it, Martin’s brothers and sisters were already drilling the Norwegian captain’s embarrassing stories during childhood.

“Do you remember the time where he got lost because he followed someone he thought was mamma?”

“No way!” Eve’s eyes bulged out in pure surprise that Martin couldn’t help but laugh, instead of stopping his older brother’s beginning of Martin’s most embarrassing anecdote. “What happened?”

Martin’s mother noticed Eve’s focus was slowly shifting from dyresteg to the tale Christoph was giving so she dismissed the younger woman, only for Eve to realise there was no seat left on the kitchen island.

Martin didn’t think twice to pull her by the waist towards him, “Come here.”

“This feels oddly familiar,” Eve laughed under her breath, not wanting to disrupt Christoph’s flow in retelling his story, but enough only for Martin to hear, as she settled in the room between his legs. “Don’t tell me to sit on your lap again this time, we have your youngest sister watching.”

“Yes, mother,” Their position, her back on his front, eased up Martin’s way to reply her in a whisper, and they fell back to the smooth flow they had constructed during the Christmas gala. “I will behave.”

And behave he did. Without further words, Martin gave up his seat for Eve while he stood by behind her. His mother didn’t miss the way Martin never let go of Eve, always having an arm around the woman’s waist at least.

She also didn’t miss the way they’d look at each other when laughing, the way her hand covered the one Martin was placing around her hips, or the way he’d kissed the small spot on the temple above her ears while she stroke his square jawline back and forth. At one point, Eve laughed so hard at Christoph’s story that Martin had to envelope her into a back hug and hid himself in the crook of her neck so naturally it almost felt like watching water moulding into a medium’s shape.

She wanted to be jealous, as a mother, but she realised that her son was slowly building a life—his own life—here with someone he truly loved, and as a mother, she couldn’t be happier than knowing someone had taken care of her son very well, especially when he was living too far from her for a mother’s liking.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“Let me help you with that.”

Eve almost dropped the plate on her hands at Martin’s voice creeping from behind. She insisted on washing the dishes—or putting them to the dishwasher, depends on your standard—not because she wanted to play the good girlfriend card, but because she was raised that way; if someone else cooks, dishes are on her shoulder.

She was used to be misunderstood by other about it but before she could explain herself, Martin stepped in and said, “Let her be, Mom. She’s always like that and I can never win.”

Creepy would be an understatement of how well Martin knew things she never had disclosed to anyone.

“You should’ve told me you have such a big family,” Eve tried to break the ice that stood between them, so thin it was barely there, but present nonetheless, especially with the way they stood so close with one another. Shoulder to shoulder, Martin reached for utensils and ceramics Eve finished cleaning. “I would’ve come more prepared in facing your brothers and sisters.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Martin said, and although Eve didn’t see them, she could sense a small smile blossomed in his face. “I hope they don’t overwhelm you.”

“Not at all,” But Eve had to chuckle because come to think of it, Martin’s brothers and sisters could be overwhelming. Maybe they’d got under her skin if she was not pretending to be Martin’s girlfriend. “They’re all so fun to be around with. I wish I have siblings to banter with like yours.”

Martin laughed at Eve’s teasing jab. He could never live down the stupid anecdotes his siblings shared when he was just a kid, could he now?

“So grateful you don’t work at Arsenal anymore,” He crouched down to insert all of the cleaned dishes to the dishwasher. “What a disaster if you spill them to everyone at Colney.”

It wasn’t supposed to rub Eve in all the wrong way but it somehow did. Was he that truly glad to be rid of her?

“Please don’t let me stop that.”

Eve looked up to Martin, who was now standing towering over her, eyes zeroed down on her with a look she couldn’t decipher. And maybe she didn’t want to figure out what lied beneath them, for she was terrified the answer would only hurt her. It was something she found out just now that Martin was rather good at it.

She gave him a small smile to hide what she was thinking, grounding herself to not give any piece of her away and reminding herself the last time she did give herself away, and Martin already hated them. Eve and coerced smile didn’t belong in the same sentence. “Stop what?”

“You smiling. I’ve missed that a lot.”

*solskinn means sunshine in norwegian.

#oh-saints writes #martin ødegaard #martin odegaard #martin odegaard fic #martin odegaard fics #martin odegaard fanfic #martin odegaard fanfics #martin odegaard fanfiction #martin odegaard fluff #martin odegaard imagine #martin odegaard imagines #martin odegaard blurb #martin odegaard blurbs #martin odegaard oneshot #martin odegaard one shot #martin odegaard drabble #martin odegaard drabbles #martin odegaard x oc #footie fic #football fanfic #footie fics #footballer x oc #footie fanfics

[tyxoxo]

One Night Only - VI.

ch.5, m.list

Jeno x fem!reader series

Genre: slow burn, fuckboy!jeno, enemies to lovers/hate fucking fwb! bookstore jeno → model jeno au, 00’ dream + mark + jun (seventeen) character inserts

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: pure filth, jeno is mean, cocky, stubborn, this relationship is extremely toxic (i dont condone, this is pure fiction), phone sex, degrading, envy, mdni!

tagging: @sukistrawberry @mingiandbaconjam @baecobies @produmads

a/n: if you’ve gotten this far to reading, i applaud you. i started this series back in september and i’m still writing ಠ_ಠ

Chapter 6

You took a long pause, contemplating an explosive, and sarcastic response.

“What do you want? Don’t you have more important things to be worried about? Like making sure you don’t fuck up your modeling offer?”

Somehow, you didn’t stutter. But there was still a hint of timidness in your voice.

“It’s almost midnight. Do you really think I want to be doing that right now? Why do you think I called?”

You tried to ignore the shuffling sounds in the background, presumably from him shifting in his bed. And based on the temptation behind his arrogant question, you tried your hardest not to imagine anything impure.

Sadly, he did have a point. Who would want to be doing anything productive or work related at this hour. But then again, why did he call you?

“I don’t know, why did you?”

You slammed your eyes shut, making the darkness swell around you even more in your bedroom.

A hefty sigh fell from his lips, as if he was fed up with your lack of perception.

You knew why, you just wanted to hear it from him first.

And if this phone call turned into anything unconventional like you secretly hoped and imagined,

you would happily accept it.

“Fuck it. Nevermind.” His curt response almost made you hang up. But on the other hand, you wanted to confront him. After he ended the call with Renjun so abruptly yesterday, you were egocentric enough to think it was because you were there.

That had to be the case.

“You’re always so difficult.” You sighed in between, rubbing your eyes as if that would ease your frustration.

“You’re not the first or last person to think so. But I will ask, why haven’t you hung up yet?”

“Exactly…” He continued so matter-of-factly, not even giving you a chance to respond.

“I was calling because I’m fucking horny. But I think you just ruined my boner.”

To you, it sounded like he was trying to hold in a laugh.

Was he touching himself before even calling?

“Don’t expect me to drop everything just so you can rub one out.” You had definitely made the right assumption.

“So, does this mean no thank you for fucking your brains out? I’d like to think I did a damn good job.”

“You did okay.”

You were lying through your teeth. But he deserved the slander.

“Okay is all I get?”

“Do you think you could do better?”

You challenged him.

“Hell yeah I could. Make you cock drunk like the pathetic slut you are.”

The call took a turn in mere seconds. He was shameless, to no surprise. But his words made you rub your thighs together, almost involuntarily.

Still, you didn’t have any second thoughts on reciprocating his energy.

“Well in that case, I won’t thank you, until you actually show me again.”

“Excuse me?” He was taken back by your brazen attitude, or at least you thought so.

“Actions speak louder than words. Plus, my fingers work just fine.”

You desperately wanted to piss him off.

“Fuck you.” He snapped back, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Entertain me then.” You adjusted your position in bed, falling back on your pillow.

“You’re only this ballsy because you’re tucked behind your phone. I would love to shut you up…make you choke on my cum ‘til you fucking drown.”

You gulped down the huge lump in your throat; body temperature rising, and your core growing wetter by the minute. He kept getting dirtier, and dirtier.

And he was so close to making you touch yourself.

“Now you’re quiet? Hmm? Thinking about all the ways I could make you pass out?”

There was too much for you to process. He had just fucked you the night before, but you were already wishing he was inside you again.

“Ruin me.” You couldn’t help but let your words drift into a moan. Your hand trailed everywhere on your body, imagining they were his. All the while, you held up your phone with the other, wishing it wasn’t so clammy to have a better grip.

“You miss my cock. Mmmh. How I destroyed your little pussy?” His voice was bold, just like when he was inside you. You could faintly hear the sound of him spreading something, what you pictured to be his precum lubricating his dick.

Images of his shiny essence leaking from his tip made you tug at your nipples hard. To the point that you winced, loving the sting.

“Fuck…” Was all you could muster. You were completely defeated.

“I didn’t hear you?”

“I miss your cock so fucking much.” Your hand continued its descent, meeting your pulsing clit. You didn’t waste any time, knowing he was already busy working himself too, based on his accelerated breathing.

“You don’t even know how much I’ve thought about you since then. You’re so perfect for me to use...”

You whimpered, feeling such satisfaction for his disregard of your entire existence.

This was everything you wanted.

If only he was here on top of you now, pounding into you until all you thought about was your next release.

No other purpose in this world than to be a cum dump for him.

“I need you…just break me. Fuck me dumb.”

You were barely making sense. Words jumbled, paired with your filthy actions brought all the more truth to the effect Jeno had on you.

But you knew he loved it.

With every hum that left his lips, you sped up the circular motions on your aroused clit.

You were sure that he could hear your slick as you decided to add a finger, pumping yourself at the same speed as him.

“Shit…you’re drenched aren’t you? Just for me?”

“All for you. Always for you.”

“Fuckk…I want it.”

If only you could see that he was grinding into his hand, squeezing his shaft with such determination to get off.

“It’s a shame I'm getting close. Mmmh—would love to stuff your pussy full of my cum.”

His voice was shaky, but with just as much authority. It was enough to make you feel on the verge of collapsing.

“Fill me up, please. Ahh, i’m getting close.”

It didn’t help that he wore a condom the first time. Ever since then, you’ve fantasized about what it would feel like to take him raw.

“You better cum first. Do it, bitch.”

How was it that his competitiveness was enough to ignite your release.

With one final pump of your finger and flick of your clit, you came undone; shaking so much that you let your phone slip out of your hands and onto the pillow. Yet, Jeno was grunting loud enough for you to still hear without ever being on speaker.

There was no way Renjun wouldn’t be able to hear him.

The silken sounds of beating himself to orgasm was too much to bear. You continued into overstimulation as you heard him let out a string of curse words.

He kept pumping himself, emptying all of his seed onto his bare chest.

Both of you matched the same speed of breathing, slowly coming down from your high in silence.

“What a waste…”

You’re only guess to his statement was that it was unfortunate you weren’t there to clean him up.

Which you gladly would’ve done.

It took a few minutes before either of you could regain focus. But you were surprised that he didn’t hang up and continue on with his lack of sincerity.

“Why don’t you and me ditch work together?”

“Uhm, I have a clean attendance record. I don't want to screw that up.”

“I do too. Mark likes you, you’ll be fine.”

“Where exactly?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet. Just come over to my place first after Renjun leaves. I’ll send you my address.”

“Fine.”

You decided to end the call first, not that it held as much weight as what he did to you earlier.

~

In no way shape or form was last night a blur. It was still fresh in your mind, from the moment you slept until you woke up the next day.

You could use the morning to recoup, and come to terms with the fact that Jeno’s entire being consumed you.

10:20am

[you]: hey, probably should’ve given you more of a heads up but i won’t be able to come in today. i should be back tomorrow!

[mark]: no worries, see you tomorrow! 👍🏼

You did your morning routine, and sat on the couch in your living room, waiting for the right time to leave.

10:30am

[jeno]: he’s gone, head my way.

Other than the address he sent you, this was the only text he’s ever sent.

How flattering.

You left him on read and made way to your front door, putting on your shoes and exiting your apartment.

As you boarded the subway to Itaewon, you began to wonder if Renjun put two and two together last night. Not only from the disturbance of your phone call with Jeno, but also the fact you and him both “called in.”

If anything, Jeno wouldn’t be scared to admit that he was having sexual relations with you. But you hoped that if the truth came out, that Renjun wouldn’t ditch you as a friend.

You shook your head loose of worrisome thoughts as you exited the busy train.

It wasn’t often you ventured to Itaewon, but knowing you were going to Jeno and Renjun’s shared flat made you somewhat nervous.

You didn’t bother sending a text stating you were on your way up. The less dry texting, the better.

Their apartment was average, similar to yours, the only difference is that all the rooms were accessed from the outside, versus yours that had an extensive lobby and condominium style design.

*knock knock*

You heard a violent sneeze from the other side of the front door followed by the sound of the unlock.

Jeno swung the door open, scrunching his nose from the aftermath of his sneeze.

He was only dressed in a muscle tank top, basketball shorts and Nike socks, to which he matched your leisure style.

“Hey.” He said dryly, with a hint of his morning voice still there.

“Hi.” You brushed past him inside to take off your shoes, studying the look of his apartment.

Not as messy as you thought but comfortably lived-in.

“Do you think Renjun knows?” You said with your back turned, heading towards the living room couch.

“Probably. He’s a light sleeper.” You could sense the smirk on his face, as if this was a light-hearted matter.

“Great.” You plopped on the couch, thinking he would join you, but he went into the kitchen to cook?

“I didn’t want you over here to ruin the mood. Just sit and relax. Do you want brunch?”

“Uhhh, sure.” You tone of voice definitely gave way that you had no faith in his cooking skills-

“I already know what you’re thinking. But I can manage.”

“Okayy, if you say so chef.”

He chuckled at your teasing, which was rather pleasant when he wasn’t being a dick.

“So after we eat, then what?” You spoke loudly to combat the clacking of dishes and ticking of the gas stove coming to life.

“Still haven’t gotten that far yet. But maybe you could look up places for us to go.”

Before you grabbed your phone to search for places, your attention was frozen at his outstretched arms as he reached for spices in the upper counter.

The way his veins branched out in every direction, paired so well with his long fingers. And how often he had to shake his head to move his messy bangs out of his eyes made you tug at your lips.

It only took him 15-minutes to whip up a savory meal. He put both of your plates on trays and carried them to the living where you sat watching cartoons on the tv.

“Thanks. It actually looks edible.” You said as you rested the tray on your lap.

He shook his head with a grin as he joined you at your side with the tray on his lap. You both began to dig in.

“So what all did you find?” He said after swallowing his first bite.

“We can either do thrifting at the flea market, cycling at the park or the mall. That’s all I got.”

“Hmm…Let’s do the flea market.”

~

To say you weren’t a spaz was an understatement, but you hid it well.

The two of you were currently boarding the train to Jung-gu. It was crowded beyond belief, maybe because it was lunch time.

You and Jeno were squished right next to the doors, with no seats available. He stood behind you, trying to make as much room for the two of you as possible.

It was uncomfortable to say the least, and you tapped your foot to ease your claustrophobia.

Your entire body froze when you felt Jeno place his hand around your waist and lower his face to nuzzle in your neck, his nose making contact with your racing pulse; occasionally raising up to let his lips graze against your ear. The warmth from his cat-like behavior eased your anxiety, causing you to lean back into his light embrace.

What are we?

#nct dream fanfic #nct dream fanfiction #jeno x reader #jeno x you #jeno smut #nct dream x reader #feedback is appreciated <3

[raffe156]

Chain Mail and Silk

Pairing - Price X MC (Tank) F!reader

Summary - Little fluff drabble for the Knights AU

A/N - The brain rot I have for this AU is crazy haha I wrote this today while nursing a hangover from being out very late last night so please enjoy!

I really appreciate all the recent feedback and asks! Please keep em coming! Especially to the anon that started this DLC 🤣

Warnings - slight angst, forbidden love? Language, fluff, Age gap Relationship, Price (40) Tank, (25) she defo should be married off by that age haha

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters - Only Tank & Luke

Tags: @shuttlelauncher81 @fanficandartgal @deadbranch @soapyghost​ @mostannoyingbillioner @chb-7

“My lady, please let me finish it off for you, your fingers look sore…” Cece pleaded with you.

“No…it’s quite alright…ow…I want to do it myself”

A few more stitches an you were finished, your initials just legible in gold thread, it wasn’t perfect but it would do. You looked at Cece triumphantly.

“Very nice mlady”

“Let’s just hope he actually does ask for my favour after all that”

********

Price watched as you took your seat in the royal box, your father being an advisor to the king allowed for that privilege. He had donned his best armour and rode out onto the field, his heart pounding with anticipation. The slight scandal of him asking for your favour was not lost on him. He was the knight commander his mind was meant to be focused on battle plans and strategies, not wooing a lady of the court 15 years younger than him.

Your eyes fixed on him as he rode towards you. You had convinced yourself he wasn’t going to ask you and ask one of the other women instead, but there he was just below you with that eye crinkling smile that made your heart flutter.

“My lady, may I ask for your favour? Such a token would be an honour to an old knight commander such as myself” there were a few mumbles as you leant forward.

“Of course Sir Price” you handed him your handkerchief his hand holding on to yours for a few seconds longer than needed. As you slowly withdrew your hand Price looked down at the silk handkerchief, your initials embroidered in gold thread on the corner, just under the last stitch a tiny dark spot, you must of pricked your finger.

“Thank you my lady, I shall keep it next to my heart for it shall protect me better than any chain mail” he bowed his head as he folded it up tucking it under his breast plate. You bowed your head in return his kind words making your cheeks flush. The mumbling started up again, but you didn’t care, The knight commander had asked for your favour.

*******

The day was long and grueling, but Price fought with all his strength and skill. And in the end, he emerged victorious, having unhorsed all his opponents and won the tournament. Even at his age his level an skill never let him down even against men half his age.

As he removed his helmet and wiped the sweat from his brow, he felt a surge of pride and joy at the sight of you stood applauding his final victory your eyes wide with excitement. He hoped Garrick had got the message to Cece that he wanted to meet with you later that night in the eastern tower.

*******

As the whole castle slept you creeped through the dark corridors all the way to the eastern tower a tall candle lighting your way. You climbed the steep stone steps to the top opening the door to the small room, you thought maybe Price had changed his mind as it was empty but then from the shadows he appeared his dark blue eyes as if light from behind greeted you from the dark.

“I thought you’d changed your mind” you placed your candle on a near by dresser.

“Never…” he closed the distance between you in one stride, his arms wrapping around you pulling you back tight to his chest his face buried in your hair.

“You did well today, I heard the king singing your praises and you made a lot of men very rich by the way” you rested your hand on the back of his head.

“I don’t care about making other men rich and I’d take you singing my praises over the king any day” he mumbled the words into your hair.

“Don’t let the king hear you say that…or my father for that matter…he still wants me married off to sir Luke the one with the highland cows” Your words made Price step back he hated when you spoke of your fathers numerous attempts at marrying you to the highest bidder, it caused his heart to ache and blood to boil.

“Sir Luke can gladly fuck off…” Price scowled at even the repetition of the name.

“Never mind all that…..what was it you wanted to show me?” There was that child like excitement in your eyes again, your hands clasped together tight.

“Sit down” he guided you to sit in the small seat by the candle light, the glow illuminated your face and it almost caused his heart to cease, you were the most beautiful creature he had ever had the grace to lay eyes upon and here you were entertaining an old fool of a man.

Price handed you a small velvet box. Inside was his gold signet ring, his family crest engraved on the front.

“I know this is not nearly as beautiful as your handkerchief," he said, "But I hope you'll wear it in some form as a symbol of my love for you” as he spoke you took the ring from the box and slipped it on to your ring finger holding your hand up to admire how it looked in the candle light, you smiled at him, your best smile only reserved for him, it made his heart pang back to life in his chest.

“It looks rather nice on that finger doesn’t it?” Your smile turned to a grin. Price gave you a small smile, he would love nothing more than to slip a wedding band onto your finger, fully an finally claiming you as his an him yours, for the whole kingdom to see, but that was a new kind of war he hadn’t yet planned a strategy for, but for now he simply agreed with you.

“It does my love…it truly does” he held your hand up kissing it just below where the ring sat.

******

You had both been talking for hours entangled on the old ornate lounger as the tall candle was now just a wick fighting to stay alight.

“You better get back to your chambers mlady…I’m sure Cece will be thinking I’ve had my wicked way with you…” Price nuzzled his face into your neck his beard tickling you.

“I’m sure she will be climbing the walls, that or hunting poor Garrick down!” You laughed at the thought as you made you way to the door Garrick was a highly decorated knight and had fought in many battles but he was terrified of little Cece.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” You looked back at him.

“I’ll make sure to find you, maybe I’ll escort you on you afternoon ride? Cece permitting” He bowed his head taking your hand in his again to kiss it. You longed for his kisses on other parts of your body. Parts that made your skin run hot an heart to beat loud like a drum.

“I’d very much like that…” you made your way down the steep steps the cold wall guiding you down.

“Good night mlady” he bowed his head once more. This parting ways was always bittersweet as now you had to return to your respective roles only offering small glances an secret smiles across crowded rooms. Price watched as you made your way back to your chambers the glow from the moon lighting your way. Though it pained him, he knew you would hold his token of love close to your heart an he yours.

#captain john price #captain price #john price #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #price x tank #141 knight au #141 knights au #cod knights au #knight au #call of duty knights au #sir price #cod knight #knight commander #knight commander price #lady tank #cod oc #cod headcanons #call of duty fic #cod fic #cod fanfiction #call of duty fandom

[anamelessfool]

Valise (AO3)

From my "Domestics" Ficlet Series

GEN Young Secondo (b. 1961) (1969)

(Illustration by Me...Yes, he is supposed to look like Damien from the Omen)

8 year old Secondo is a touring piano prodigy, and his mother supports him every step of the way. An unexpected visitor arrives at the Ministry HQ.

Tags: domestic fluff, Secondo the child prodigy, mother and son relationship, this is why he is so intense, Enjoy my Google Translate Italian, Maybe I should send this to my Therapist, Sorta Sad Fluff Because That's My Brand

First and foremost dedicated to @fishwithtitz once more for asking me about Secondo after reading my Kid Primo stuff.

Ficlet below the cut!

1969

She was always there. Sister Rebecca. His mother. Secondo stole a glance across the top of the piano to the velvety darkness of stage right. He could tell she was there by the soft gleam of her perfectly round glasses. Secondo gave a nod, then refocused himself on the piano keys before him.

This tour season she had planned for him a program highlighting the greats of Chopin’s work He had grown quite a bit since his debut at six, and so he was able to reach more keys with greater accuracy. The theater was packed, the audience on the edge of their seats astounded at how such a young mind could comprehend the complexities of piano performance. He was on tempo and accurate—but then again any trained monkey could be that with enough practice. They were drawn to his surprising sensitivity on the keys, his understanding of drama and atmosphere that went way beyond his years.

Secondo didn't care whether he played in the common room of the Ministry or a packed orpheum in New York City, in both places his brain worked the same. His fingers moved and the sound fell out, a puzzle to massage his brooding mind. They were the soundtrack of the visions he had in his imagination brought on by all the paperbacks he read in the Ministry limousine as he toured up and down New England.

A leviathan of cosmic horror, its impossibly great head rising from the sea.

Moriarty and Sherlock, entangled as they plunged headfirst down the falls.

A corpse’s heart, beating under the floor in defiance of its murderer.

Rough beasts, their hour come at last, slouching towards Bethlehem.

He finished the piece with a flourish, bowing solemnly. His mother was always the first one to applaud.

When they traveled, which was often, she insisted they stay at the finest rooms in the finest hotels. Her businesslike, steely expression was usually enough to ensure their stay there was one of ease and opulence, and she tipped everyone handsomely besides. “Yes, and the room needs to have a phone. It is essential.”

“There is a time to perform and a time to rest,” she told her son once. “Commit to each season fully.”

Except it seemed like she never truly rested. The Personal Assistant to Mother Imperator rarely does. They would have a meal in the hotel suite, or go to a play or opera performance in each city they visited, but she was always peering into her datebook or calling the Ministry in the theater phonebooth during intermissions. Secondo would hold her drink while she made plans and kept appointments across the world.

Back at the hotel, the calls and note taking would continue, this time on the elegant historical phone of the penthouse, at least until she felt everything was laid out well enough before going to bed.

“No, it's not possible, but you have to make it work.” Click. Her datebook would snap open, and she'd dial the rotary phone again for another check in. Whirrrr, whirrr, whirrr.

“Nihil will be on tour the fifteenth through the second. Yes, the venues are all approved.” Click. Snap. Whirrr, whirr, whirrr.

Then she would pull out an array of languages. A full half hour conversation in Italian. Three requests in Portuguese, a demand in Spanish from another caller across the world. A stilted yet firm discussion in broken German (she struggled with that one, but it was on her list).

Secondo, still warm from his bath, would close his eyes in the other bed. There was the soft murmuring of phone call after phone call. The efficient scratching of a fountain pen. The impatient tapping of her fingernails across the desk. She would turn to check on him and through his eyelashes he saw once more the gleam of her spectacles, the white gold glitter of the smart brooch at her throat. He started to drift off to sleep to the quiet efficient sounds of his mother at work.

“Yes, I'm away now. Our tour is going well. My son and I are having a lovely time. Yes, he is doing so well. Talented through and through.”

***

“And what brooch shall I wear today, boy?” She would ask him each day, after putting up her hair and putting away her ivory combs. Secondo would peer across the open jewelry case, the finery enclosed and separated with black velvet dividers, a stable of jewels. He would pick one and hand it to her. She never refused his selection.

“How is my watch today, boy?” Would be the next thing she would ask about. Secondo would already be prepared with it. It was a thin ladies wristwatch over forty years old and still pristine. It was a big moment for him when he was allowed to take care of it. He would make sure it was wound each day, opening the back to see the small gears whirring smoothly like the action of a song bird's heart. He would polish the white gold surface, check the fittings on the square cut sapphires. Under his care he wanted it to run for another four hundred years.

“We are going back home today,” she said. “The tour is over. The car is picking us up at the front in an hour. Is everything accounted for, boy?”

Secondo inspected the entire jewelry case, making sure all was there. He even considered the secret panel underneath, where a few hundred dollar bills were stored. He nodded solemnly, the most dutiful little butler she'd ever employed.

Secondo was the only one allowed to carry her travel case of jewelry. It was a small valise of ostrich leather with engraved brass to protect the corners. He was the only other one who knew the combination. When they traveled he never let his hand leave the handle. He had once seen a spy movie where a man had a handcuff and chain attached to a secret spy suitcase, and that really stirred his imagination.

I'm going to protect these, Secondo would think, and the idea of fighting off bandits and thieves with his teeth and fists would send a thrill through his little body. I'm going to defend these with my life.

***

Secondo stared out the window of the Ministry limousine, watching the ascent of the car into the canopy of old growth as they returned home. When there was nothing to say he and his mother Rebecca chose to say nothing. They sat in a silence that was comfortable to them, the soft scratching of her pen in her little datebook lulling him into calm.

Rebecca closed the book with a business-like click, elegantly stowing it in her coat breast pocket. Secondo watched the little flash of red shagreen vanish into the black wool.

“Boy.” Rebecca’s face showed nothing. She peered at him with a corvid intensity, then leaned forward, her strong nose mere inches from his face. An eyebrow twitched exactly once. “What do we have here?”

Second stared back with an equal level of stoicism, although there was the slight fluttering of anticipation behind his ribs. His mother reached out by the side of his head, feigning dramatic surprise. “Look!” She hissed. A wrapped caramel miraculously appeared from his ear, and she solemnly placed it in his hands. “Don't I tell you to wash your ears, boy?” She teased.

At that, Secondo smiled broadly, unwrapping and savoring the treat. Rebecca gave her son's knee a single pat. “Excellent work once again, my Secondo. I would not expect anything less.”

“Will we go again next year?” He asked.

“If you want,” she said.

“Europe?”

Rebecca frowned. “Not until you're older. These little tours are too much as it is on you. I know you enjoy the spotlight, boy, but you do have the rest of your life to stand under it.”

Secondo tightened his grip on the handle of her jewelry valise, glowering at the ridges of the leather seat across from him. “Why can't I be old enough right now?”

“Secondo—” and he snapped bolt upright, looking into her eyes. She used his name mostly when he was in trouble. She pulled off her glasses and began to clean them with a cloth from her jacket. The thick glasses concealed the tired wrinkles under her blue eyes. “Great men are good boys first. If you're going to be Papa Emeritus, you need to start now. And you are on the path. One step at a time.”

“But Nihil…” Secondo found it hard to understand how his proper mother ever spent a moment enjoying the presence of his freewheeling bohemian father. He suspected Rebecca felt the same.

Rebecca replaced her glasses. “I said that you are going to be a great man, Secondo.”

As the limo pulled into the circular driveway Secondo noticed two figures and some luggage standing under the front portico. Rebecca looked unusually puzzled as she helped her son out of the vehicle. One of the figures was a tall man in a very opulent fur-lined cape. He had the headwear and glittering grucifix that announced his station as a Cardinal, although he was not anyone Secondo had ever seen before. The second figure was much smaller and shyly stood behind the visitor. He was so small and hidden that Secondo assumed he was some sort of pet.

“Sister Rebecca, buon Giorno.” The Cardinal’s voice was merry, sing-songy. Foreign. “They had said you are one I will be needing a seeing, yes?” He bowed his great graying head. “I am Cardinal Raphael, sono di Milano.”

“Parlo fluentemente l'italiano, Excellenze,” said Rebecca. “How can I help you.”

Raphael’s shoulders lowered in a moment of relief. “Dov'è il Papa Emeritus questo pomeriggio? Sono qui per Sua Eccellenza.”

“è fuori. in questo momento è a San Francisco.”

“Ah, si, si…”

The two adults chattered on the step. Secondo held his mother’s hand as he observed the other visitor beside the Italian, who was slowly inching into view.

Holding onto the Cardinal’s belt end was a very small figure, bundled up. Above the mountain of his knit scarf and below the too-big beret, little cat-like eyes sparkled. It was a boy about half Secondo’s age, or younger. He had a cardboard suitcase on which a child drew a cartoon flower.

“Shall we go inside?” Rebecca finished the conversation. “You did not come all this way to stand on these steps. Come.”

A few moments later and Rebecca offered the visitors a seat at the sofa of a receiving room. She smiled as the adults settled in. Secondo took a seat in a nearby armchair, still holding the precious valise in his hand. The new boy struggled a bit with getting up onto the couch but sat there obediently, swinging his legs.

“Now,” Rebecca said, done with the pleasantries. “Why have you come all this way today, Cardinal.”

Cardinal Raphael swept out his hand. “Questo è il figlio di Papa Emeritus.” The little boy beside the cardinal blinked his eyes wide, checking in with his mentor. The Cardinal raised his bushy eyebrows, gesturing slightly with his hands. The boy screwed up his face in an attempt at nobility and bobbed his head slightly in a bow.

Rebecca’s mouth was now a thin line. “Oh? Is that so?”

“The em…his Eminence’s tour of Italy was er…in the 1964 and the 1965.”

“It most certainly was,” replied Rebecca. Her hand imperceptibly clenched the edge of her sofa chair. “I planned every last detail.”

“Perhaps not,” replied the Cardinal with a good natured chuckle, but upon seeing Rebecca’s icy expression he swallowed his own. Time crawled as she stared into him, tapping her fingers on her chair. If a sinkhole ripped open beneath the Cardinal's feet dropping him into the depths of the planet, he would thank Satan for the opportunity.

Rebecca solemnly pulled off her glasses and rested them on the side table. She arranged the datebook and fountain pen beside them, and rose to her feet. “Cardinale, mi scuso.”

She backed away elegantly, opening the parlor doors behind her and slipping inside. The Cardinal seemed to be a decently friendly man, since he attempted to break the tense silence by leaning over to address Secondo. “So eh, you….baseball?”

There was a shattering sound against a wall in the parlor. It sounded like a plate falling to pieces. Afterwards there came a great toppling noise of wood on wood, a pop and crack of carpentry destroyed under a foot. Then a wrathful scream was drowned out by the rushing, creaking crash of something large sliding to the floor. The tinkling of glass and a ceramic explosion suggested the victim to be an entire hutch of dinnerware.

The plates on the floor settled and Rebecca once more emerged, softly closing the door behind her and returning to her seat. Her face was as calm as it always was. She brought her items into her hands, writing something quickly in her book, then replacing in her jacket. “Secondo, I'm not sure if I want to buy your father a suitcase or a coffin.”

Cardinal Raphael shook his head and chuckled, but immediately recoiled once more at the glare thrown at him across the room.

The conversation became low, almost silent, the Cardinal gesturing with his hands as if he were a fencing opponent. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to Rebecca, who snatched it from his hands and glared at the words.

Secondo observed the little boy who was smiling to himself and admiring the carved wood paneling in the opulent receiving room. The boy noticed Secondo and presented him with a friendly mischievous grin.

Secondo frowned suspiciously back. He pulled the jewelry valise even closer to his chest.

The hushed conversation continued around them. Secondo had no idea what they were saying, but he attempted to understand the small snippets he heard.

Ci siamo presi cura di loro... quattro anni... torre della cattedrale... suicidio... è solo…

“Fine,” Rebecca said, neatly folding the note. She glanced over to Secondo, then back to her guests. She pointed at the new boy. “Stai qui per favore.”

The cardinal patted his young ward to his feet.

Rebecca leaned forward, staring into the little boy standing in front of her. Light reflected across her perfectly round spectacles, concealing her eyes and transforming her into some sort of suspicious owl, an inhuman statue. “Sei un bravo maschietto? Sei un maschietto obbediente?”

The boy winced, perhaps confused by the question. He collected himself and nodded.

“Lavorerai?”

Again he flashed a small face of concern. But he gave her one last determined nod.

“Very well,” Rebecca sighed. She leaned back in the chair and removed her glasses. There were a few beats of silence, the nun gathering her thoughts and tidying her mind from the previous moment’s sudden earthquake. She gestured from her son to the little visitor. “Secondo, this…I suppose then that this is Terzo,” she said. “Your…half-brother.”

My AO3 | Tumblr Fic List | My Obsessive Ghost AU Series aka My Flavor of Insanity

Please comment and reblog! Thank you.

#ghost scenes from the void #papa emeritus ii #ghost headcanons #domestic fluff #my art

[pocket-lad]

CH 1- A Dying Man's Wish

Hey, we're back with a sequel! Join Adelaide and Ian in their adventure to Isla Sorna. All new characters and all new situations, but the same ol' g/t. Links to the prev story below.

Only a Couple Days: FIRST ; LAST

Adelaide woke up in a dark, soft, and confined space. A fast and rhythmic thumping pounded against the wall behind her. That’s what had woken her up. 

Curious and a little groggy from her unintentional nap, Adelaide started to pull herself to the top of Ian’s pocket. It was his heart that pounded behind her, but she wasn’t sure what he could possibly be nervous/excited/mad about. 

She had almost made it to the top when a gentle pressure pushed her into Ian’s chest, sending her back to the bottom. It was probably (hopefully) his hand, and he probably passed it off as an itch or something to the outside world, but this was his way of telling her not to come out. Just as quickly as the pressure appeared, it vanished. 

Instead of kicking him and stubbornly trying again, Adelaide decided to actually use her ears and figure out where they were before she moved. She chided herself for just assuming she was in the clear. 

There was a loud, ever-present clattering noise that she couldn’t identify, and the faint sound of people talking. Then, a much louder, much closer voice spoke. 

“You’re him, right?” 

Ian responded, and his voice reverberated throughout Adelaide’s body. It was louder than usual, as it often was when he spoke to other Beans. “Excuse me?” 

“The scientist? The guy? I saw you on TV.” 

Ian’s heart rate picked up even more, and Adelaide started to catch on. After they left the island, there was a ton of ‘legal drama’, though she didn’t understand much of it. What she did know was that someone or something powerful was mad at Ian because he spoke out about what happened. That earned him a lot of negative attention, and he frequently complained about it to her when he got home. 

Adelaide didn’t leave the house very often, so she never experienced this firsthand, but now, here they were. And he was right. It was annoying. 

Without a response from Ian, the guy kept pushing. “I believed you.” Again, Ian didn’t say anything. The guy then roared, imitating a dinosaur. 

Ian just shifted away, sending Adelaide to the other side of the pocket, but she didn’t even register the movement, too preoccupied with this guy’s audacity. She applauded Ian for his restraint because, if it were her, she would have already gone feral. Who did this guy think he was? What kind of asshole would act like that? Adelaide had to restrain herself from jumping out of the pocket and sticking him with her knife. The only thing holding her back was the fact that it sounded like more people were around. 

After that, the guy left them alone, but Adelaide stayed fuming for a long time, and she could not sit still. The pocket was cramped, and though it was cozy when she needed a nap, it was stifling when she was full of energy. 

Eventually, Ian stood up, and gravity forced Adelaide to the bottom of the pocket. As he started walking, she dared to peek her head out, but upon seeing a vast sea of people, ducked back down. Adelaide felt a little exhilarated. This was the longest trip she’d ever taken outside, excluding Jurassic Park, and the appeal of adventure was tantalizing. Sitting in Ian’s pocket, she was invincible, and she could go anywhere. 

Actually, not too long ago, Adelaide actively did not want to tag along when he went places, but on one particular day, Ian won her over, as he so often did.

*** 

“This sounds very familiar... Oh yeah, it sounds exactly like that time you begged me to come to Jurassic Park and we almost died,” Adelaide said. 

“Hey-” 

“No, I’m sorry. That was too far. I was joking. Not a good joke... I just don’t have any desire to see John Hammond ever again.” Adelaide had long since forgiven Ian for dragging her along. She never really blamed him in the first place. John Hammond, however...

“Neither do I, but he um, he insists. What am I supposed to do? Not honor a dying – a dying man’s wishes?” Ian protested. 

Adelaide stopped. “Woah, he’s dying?” 

“That’s what it sounded like.” 

She gave it some thought. The appeal of seeing new sights and feeling fresh air on her skin was strong, so half the battle was already won for him. And Ian was right – they couldn’t just ignore someone who was dying.

“Man...” Adelaide trailed off, unable to think of an argument she hadn’t used yet. 

“Please don’t make me do this by myself,” Ian complained. 

“Fine,” Adelaide conceded. “But no dinosaurs!” 

“No dinosaurs,” Ian agreed. 

*** 

Adelaide pounded her fists on Ian’s chest. 

He looked down, wondering what she was getting at, and checked around himself before he pinched the pocket open. “What?” 

“Is it clear? I’m dying,” Adelaide whined. 

Ian checked around again, just in case, then gave her the all clear. “Just be prepared to uh, duck back down. We’re almost – almost at the door.” 

Adelaide rushed to the top, hanging her arms dramatically over the edge of the pocket. Fresh air met her face, and she closed her eyes as she took a long, deep breath. This felt nice. 

The world around her was gorgeous. Lush green grass with all kinds of colorful flowers lined the walkway, which was impeccably clean itself. The sky was crystal clear, and an active, ornate fountain stood up ahead before a massive house. House? Castle? Adelaide didn’t know it was possible to have a house this big. Ian’s was big, but it was nothing compared to this. 

As they approached the door, Adelaide took one last breath, savoring the crisp fall air. Then, she retreated back into the pocket. Hammond knew about her, sure, but she didn’t know who else would be there and she didn’t want to chance anything. No way he lived in that big of a space by himself. That would just be greedy.

Ian checked to make sure Adelaide was in place before he rang the doorbell. 

They didn’t have to wait long before an old man hesitantly opened the door. “Who should I tell Mr. Hammond is calling?” he asked in a fancy accent. 

“Uh, Ian Malcolm,” Ian said. “I’ve been summoned.” He gave a light shrug. 

Adelaide hated not knowing what was going on. She trusted Ian completely, but she preferred to see where they were and who was around, just in case. The anticipation of literally anything happening was unbearable sometimes. 

As they entered the mansion, Adelaide heard faint music. It was almost immediately interrupted by a semi-familiar voice. 

“Dr. Malcolm!” 

Another familiar voice. “Hello, Dr. Malcolm!” 

Oh my god ! It was Lex and Tim! But like.... definitely older. They did all the “great to see you's” and such, and she felt them give Ian a hug. 

Adelaide was torn. Again, she didn’t know who was around, and she hadn’t seen these guys in forever. They were still kids, still dangerous, but they literally survived near-death experiences together. That had to count for something, right? 

“Is Adelaide with you?” Lex asked. It seemed Adelaide’s decision was made for her. 

“Oh yeah, she’s right here,” Ian said as he patted the pocket, knowing full well how much it would annoy Adelaide. 

“Dude!” Adelaide called after being repeatedly shoved into his chest. She was not amused, but it certainly sounded like the kids were, if their giggles were any indication. She guessed that meant she should come out and say hello. 

Adelaide stuck her head out, but almost fell back to the bottom of the pocket when she saw just how big they were. Lex was at eye level and Tim was fast approaching. 

“Hi,” Adelaide said after an awkward pause. “You got... tall.” What else should she say? 

“You didn’t,” Tim snickered. 

“Tim!” Lex chided, smacking him on the arm, but Adelaide laughed. 

“That was my bad. I uh… walked into that one,” she chuckled. The kids sobered up quickly and Adelaide noticed that they seemed.... stiff. 

“Is everything okay?” Ian asked, picking up on the tension in the air as well. 

“Well, not exactly,” Lex admitted. Not a second later, hordes of footsteps could be heard trampling down the stairs. Adelaide turned to look but was blocked by the wall that was Ian’s chest. Better safe than sorry. 

“That sounds like my cue.... Good to see you guys again,” Adelaide said. She wasn’t sure if that was true, but at the very least it was polite. She applauded herself on the normal social interaction as she ducked down just in time to hear someone call Ian.

“Here to share a few campfire stories with my uncle?” it said in a cold, pretentious, and accented voice. 

Ian’s heart rate picked up again. “You can convince the Washington Post and Skeptical Inquirer of what you want, but I was there. I know what happened and so do you,” he said. 

“Do you actually believe that everyone who chose discretion did so for a nefarious motive? Even Lex and Tim?” the man countered.

Oh. This felt different than the guy on the subway. This man sounded smart. He sounded like he was well aware of the situation and knew how to handle it. He sounded exactly like the guys Ian complained about. 

Adelaide felt herself get riled up all over again. She listened as they argued about stuff she already knew. Signing an agreement, misinforming the public, compensation for Ian's injuries (which he didn’t take, much to Adelaide’s protests), and the loss of his tenure. 

Her blood boiled as they continued to talk. Ian kept trying to defend himself, but it was a losing battle. She wished he would just punch the man square in the jaw instead. Ian wouldn’t win by talking – he was good at it, but it sounded like these guys were better. He could definitely win by brute force. Apparently Human Beans frowned upon that, though. 

Adelaide didn’t notice how much she was moving, frustrated that she couldn’t defend her friend, through words or fighting or otherwise, until Ian once again laid a hand over top of her. Entirely not in the mood, she kicked at it until it left. Maybe she should show herself. Maybe if the man saw her, she could use his momentary shock to attack. 

In fact, Adelaide almost did that when she heard him say, “Careful. This suit cost more than your education.”

Not long after, Ian pinched the pocket open as he approached Hammond’s room, annoyed. “Stop moving so much!” he said. His face took up the whole opening, making Adelaide feel like she was under a microscope. She had to remind herself that he wasn’t annoyed with her , it was just a shitty situation to be in and she probably wasn’t helping by wriggling around.

“I can’t help it! It’s cramped and I’m pissed off! He shouldn’t talk to you that way!” 

Ian laughed sadly. “That’s uh, just the way the world works.” 

“I need to move around,” Adelaide said. “I have too much energy and I might just channel it into stabbing that guy's eyeball.” 

“Okay,” Ian blinked. “That’s... maybe we need to take it down – take it down a skosh.” He knocked on a gorgeously carved wooden door, and a faint ‘come in’ was heard. 

Adelaide let out a frustrated noise as Ian opened the door. The appeal of adventure was wearing off by the second, and she regarded the pocket with distaste as she plopped down again . Maybe going outside was not her thing. There was enough adventure in the walls, anyway.

“You’re alright, it’s uh, just Hammond,” Ian said aloud. 

Adelaide didn’t like that he announced her presence, but Hammond probably already knew. Plus, she didn’t come all this way not to at least say hello. Tentatively, she peeked out. 

Ian stood near the doorway, and across the room, in a decorated wooden bed, lay John Hammond, looking worse than the last time they met. He was surrounded by medical equipment that Adelaide recognized from their week in the hospital after Jurassic Park. 

Adelaide didn’t even have time to wonder who was going to speak first, or what anyone was going to say. 

“You were right, and I was wrong. There! Did you ever expect to hear me say such a thing? Thank God for Site B.” Hammond spewed those words out as if he’d been rehearsing them. He was absolutely the same man, but his energy was a lot more subdued. 

Adelaide glanced up at Ian who was glancing down at her with the same confused expression.

“Site B?” Ian asked hesitantly, fearing an explanation would confirm what he thought might be true. 

“Isla Nublar was just a showroom, something for the tourists. Site B was the factory floor. That was on Isla Sorna, miles from Nublar. We bred the animals there and nurtured them for a few months, then moved them into the park,” Hammond elaborated. 

Ian slowly approached Hammond as he spoke. “Oh, really?” His tone was cautious, not wanting to give away exactly what he thought just yet.  

Adelaide didn’t know what she expected. At least a ‘hello’, right? Some form of introduction or ‘how are you doing’? But they just sort of jumped into business. At the end of the day, that’s what John Hammond was – a businessman – but the immediate gravity of the discussion was jarring. 

Hammond continued to explain that a storm wiped out the human facilities on that second island and the animals were somehow thriving, despite all the efforts to keep them from living without human involvement.

“How?” Adelaide blurted. 

Although his smile was warm, Hammond’s cold, blue eyes focused in on her for the first time since they arrived, and it made her uneasy. 

“That’s one of the thousand questions I want the team to answer,” he said. 

“Oh,” Adelaide muttered, dissatisfied. 

“Team?” Ian prompted calmly, also dissatisfied but knowing how to keep the conversation going. He still maintained his cool until he knew for sure what was happening and why exactly they were here. 

Hammond continued his explanation as he struggled to get up out of bed. Ian offered a hand, which Hammond took, but then he was off on his own to the other side of the room. Adelaide stayed frozen and tense the whole time. Ian followed. 

Apparently, Hammond gathered a team of people to study and document the dinosaurs. There were no fences on the island, but they’d stay away from the interior so as to avoid the ‘dangerous ones.’

As Hammond spoke, he addressed both Ian and Adelaide, so Adelaide had to pretend like she understood what he was talking about and nod along. When she couldn’t take it any longer, she climbed up to Ian’s shoulder, which was not easy when he wore his leather jacket. Even then, she dragged out the process to avoid engaging in the conversation. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not making the same mistakes again,” Hammond assured. Adelaide couldn’t help but snort at the absurdity. They sure sounded like the same mistakes. 

Maybe she should have been a bit more careful, but with the state Hammond was in, Adelaide doubted he posed any threat to her, especially up on Ian’s shoulder. So, she let herself laugh, but then almost immediately felt bad for thinking that. Jesus Christ, he’s dying. Be nice . 

Ian voiced her thoughts aloud. At least, the ones about ‘making mistakes.’ “No, you’re making – you're making all new ones. Who are the four lunatics you’re trying to con into this?” 

Oh no. Adelaide was fairly certain she knew why they were here now. Why else would Hammond invite them? 

“Ian-” Adelaide started to warn him, but Hammond interrupted. Her voice was quiet, so probably not intentionally, but it peeved her off nonetheless. 

“Nick Van Owen, a video documentarian.” Hammond handed Ian a stack of files as he spoke. “Eddie Carr, a field equipment expert. We have our paleontologist, and I was hoping you might be the fourth.” 

Unfortunately, Adelaide assumptions were correct. She also didn’t miss the way Hammond didn’t count her as a person. “Absolutely not,” she said immediately.

Hammond took Ian’s arm and Adelaide pressed herself against Ian’s neck, just in case, but he only used it to help him walk. 

Hammond tried for sympathy instead. Their company, InGen, was in legal trouble and there were some who wanted to exploit site B to bail them out. Apparently, a stupid rich family stopped on the island and their daughter obviously got hurt because it was full of dinosaurs, so that sped up the process. Essentially, Hammond no longer had control of the company. 

“Don’t care,” Adelaide shrugged. Hammond ignored her, turning his attention fully to Ian. 

“Public opinion is the one thing I can use to preserve the island, but to rally support, I need a complete photo record of those animals alive and in their natural habitats,” he said. 

“So, you went from capitalist to naturalist in just four years. That’s - that's something,” Ian mused, but Hammond pushed on. 

“It’s our last chance at redemption,” he pleaded. 

“Don’t. Care.” Adelaide repeated, actively hoping to draw his attention back to her, which was... new. She was getting bolder, and she didn’t care that Hammond was a giant. She wasn’t going back to any island, Ian wasn’t going back to any island, and neither of them were ever going to see dinosaurs ever again. There was no argument. And Hammond needed to know that. 

“Della,” Ian held up his hand, which meant ‘shut up’. Insulted, Adelaide was about to argue, but Ian continued, and it seemed like they were on the same page. Thank God. “John. No. Of course, uh, no. We’re not going. And I’m gonna contact the other three members of your team, and I’m gonna stop them, uh, from going. Who’s the paleontologist, by the way?” 

Ian turned to go grab the other file and Hammond suddenly got defensive. “She - she came to me. I want you to know this.” 

“Who did?” Ian asked. 

Once again, Adelaide was fairly certain she knew who Hammond was talking about. It wasn’t good. And Ian was going to be pissed. She wondered if she should break it to him, or if she should let Hammond do it, or if Ian would figure it out all on his own. None of the options seemed appealing. So, Adelaide braced herself. 

“Leave it to you, Ian, to have associations, affiliations, even liaisons, with the best people in so many fields.” Hammond intentionally avoided the question. 

That was all it took, though. Ian stopped moving completely, and Adelaide was worried he stopped breathing. “You didn’t contact Sarah,” he exhaled. It wasn’t a question, or even a statement, really. Ian was speaking that sentence into existence. Hammond could not have contacted Sarah because Ian said it was so.

Hammond defended himself and Sarah while Ian frantically searched for a phone. His breathing became shallow and quick, like he was on the verge of a panic attack. Adelaide desperately wanted to do something, to be of literally any help, but she didn’t have the faintest idea what to say or where to start. 

“Ian, breathe. I can feel you shaking. You need to calm down. You know Sarah. You know how smart and how capable and-” Adelaide could tell the words she whispered into his ear were not making it through to his brain, or if they were, he was ignoring them. 

“It’s too late,” Hammond said. “She’s already there.” 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Adelaide yelled. “You didn’t have raptors chase you through a kitchen. You didn’t have your leg obliterated by a T-Rex. Why the hell aren’t you there, then? If you think it’s so safe?” Though she already had a couple small outbursts, this one took Hammond by surprise. He blinked, not expecting something so forceful to come out of such a small creature. Adelaide even surprised herself. It was a little harsh, but she stood by it. 

Ian continued her train of thought as if they were the same person. “If you want to leave your name on something, fine. But stop putting it on other people’s headstones.” With that, Ian got up to leave. Their visit was over. 

Hammond ignored the point they were making by diverting the conversation back to Sarah. “Oh, she’ll be fine. And believe me, the research team will-” 

“It’s not a research expedition anymore,” Ian interrupted, stopping in his tracks to look Hammond in the eye. “It’s a rescue operation, and it’s leaving right now.” And then they were on their way out. 

Adelaide exhaled as she let her body slide into the pocket from Ian’s shoulder, but she felt nothing. She felt numb. This was it. They were going back to Jurassic Park. 

.

Next

#jurassic park #ian malcolm #g/t #giant/tiny #jurassic park g/t #gt #size difference

[sightoru]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎... and happy new year!! I wanted to make a post showcasing some of my favorite things i've read this year, and thank you all for sticking with me as i transition from writing on tumblr to ao3!

I do want to do a separate shoutout for @mybigbangacademia and the wonderful people i met there! it was so great to be part of something that challenged me to write, and it was so great to work together as a community ! linky.

please let me know if you'd like to be removed or untagged as well! i really don't mind at all. I also wanna say this is for fics i've read THIS YEAR, regardless of when they were posted.

now without further ado...

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒...

𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐀.... by @dilu3 scaramouche x reader, tattoo au. this is so fucking good and i literally love everything about it.

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒.... by @eremikan natsuo, dabi, shigaraki, keigo x reader. it's written in a gorgeous way, very unique and i love the entire story. mari has a stunning way with words and it shows through the entire piece. i cant wait to see where it goes!! MIND THE TAGS!

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐒... by @andypantsx3 andy is so incredible and i literally devour everything they write like a boa constrictor. the most canon shouto todoroki i've ever read, and im ngl im not a massive shouto simp??? but i am eating this fic up.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃... by @yeagerbombs CEO of canon zhongli. the pining and build up is incredible, i love readers personality in this as well!!! very elaborate and stunning and one of my favorite versions of zhongli i have ever read.

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄... by @katsukiskitkat literally some of the best world building i've ever read in my life, binge read everything in a day in my bed while i was clutching my phone and kicking my feet like a school girl. absolutely incredible.

𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐔𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐄...

𝐔𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐘... soggy by @mintmatcha. this gutted me and i will never be the same again.

𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐘... study buddy by @sems-diarie , sem always does my baby izuku right (OUR baby) and this is just another one she did beautifully.

𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋...dead young and fair by @j0succ turned me into a diluc simp??? its so stunning and beautifully written and everything about it made my heart ache.

𝐈𝐃𝐊 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐓... what doesn't kill me makes me want you more by @dottores / @twdottore im not even INTO TR (not for any particular reason) and yes i did have to look up what these dudes look like but it did not stop me from devouring this like a man starved.

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒...

@tteokdoroki 's the sinister six event, which combines my two favorite things: smut, and long fic. aali killed it last year, she killed it this year and if she decides too, she'll do amazing next year.

@anantaru's kinktober was a full course meal every single day of october. they're built different, idk how they did it but they did and i applaud them. raising my glass to them like that leonardo dicaprio meme.

@vampyrsm 's kinktober was nothing short of perfect. i've reread these like 4 times.

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐒...

@hanmas nsfw + sfw + multifandom.

@spacelabrathor nsfw + bnha + sprinkle of dc + longfic

@haruchiyos dc + nsfw + multifandom

@oh-katsuki dc + nsfw/sfw + multifandom + longfic

@petrichorium nsfw + multifandom

@willowser sfw + bnha

@willowser-but-nsfw nsfw + bnha

@vagabondings nsfw + multifandom

@hawnks nsfw + sfw + multifandom + long fic

@saneminx nsfw + multifandom

@alhaithms nsfw + sfw + multifandom

@tinie nsfw + sfw + multifandom

@dearbraus nsfw + sfw + multifandom

thank you all for a great year!

#[✩|recs]

[blamemma]

the ppl online insisting on holding daniel to things he said about his career last year for these tired "gotcha" takes like a) he wasn't burnt out as all hell at the lowest point of his professional career and b) like they are unaware of how the passage of time works is hilarious to me. he answered the questions he was asked with the way he felt at the time. circumstances, perspectives and attitudes change? this isn't a revolutionary concept lol. (and you just know a majority of these ppl were the ones saying he was too ego driven to drive for a backmarker too but now that he is it's like...better make this a bad thing too! gotta keep those goalposts moving!! aren't they tired yet, honestly...)

i think i'll just pop @toastandvegemite's tags here which i read this morning and i think are the perfect way to sum it all up...daniel took his space, he's made choices that are working for him, went back to an environment he has seeming excelled in, so of course that is going to make him feel good, feel better. he's taken his time and is thriving because of it, YET IF he had gone straight into the haas, or the williams, or the alpha tauri at the beginning of this year....i think we'd be seeing a completely different daniel right now and not one we wanna see :)

like i genuinely think this is sometihng we should be celebrating and commentators should be talking about....he left the sport for a little bit and has come back seemingly looking and feeling better than ever and we'll have to wait to see if that translates to his driving on the track but when we've got certain teams pushing "mental health matters!" but not actively looking after their drivers, i think daniel taking this step and showcasing it works is something we should be applauding, not berating him for???

#idkkkkk people have had such empty arguments about nyck v daniel throughout this whole saga #im bored of it now #over and out #think its clear what my stance is so just gunna move on and celebrate a daniel ricciardo race week #anon #asks

[nrc-research-club]

driver’s license

↬ Summary: In which you finally get your driver's license and offer a ride to the guys. It goes as well as you can imagine.

↬ Characters: Jamil Viper, Jade Leech

↬ Tags: fluff, bit of crack

↬ Notes: i am back!! from a very long hiatus!! i also have another side blog for another fandom now haha so that made me think of writing something for here. also on a side note.. should i open ko-fi or something similar for those who want to commission when requests are closed? let me know in an ask or a reply or literally anywhere haha

Jamil Viper

↬ When you tell Jamil that you've finally gotten your license, he feels, at the very least, proud. Driving is hard no matter how you look at it, and getting a license is just proof of how much you've practiced earning one. He gives you reminders such as to never drink and drive or to always take a break if you feel like you're too tired to drive.

↬ He's quite confident in you, so when you ask him if he wants to join you for a ride, he thinks of how to leave Kalim in someone's care for a while before saying yes. His family would kill him for this, but Kalim would kill everyone in the car if he were to join.

↬ With Kalim out of the way and you being super enthusiastic about driving, the two of you get in the car with high hopes. You've planned on driving around town to do some errands, but the moment you start your car, it makes a weird noise that drains the color from Jamil's face.

↬ "Hey," he says after a long pause, getting nervous and rechecking his seatbelt. You still have a smile on your face, but it doesn't ease his worries one bit. "That doesn't sound good—"

↬ The car jerks forward before moving again, and he swore he got whiplash and a heart attack from it. Your engine sounds like it's dying, making whirring noises that definitely sounded wrong.

↬ "It's okay!" you say as you step on the gas. The car whirs and buzzes as the speedometer rises (along with Jamil's blood pressure), and then realization dawns on you. "Oh! I forgot to change my gear. Hold on."

↬ As you take one hand off the steering wheel, the car starts moving to the side. Jamil snaps, holding onto his seat for dear life as he watches his life flash in front of him. Maybe this was good since it would free him from his duties, and yet… dying in a car crash seems too terrible, even for him.

↬ "What are you doing!?" he asks when you accidentally turn your headlights on instead of making a signal. A car from behind you honks its horn, but you pay it no mind as you make a turn and activate the signal at the very last moment. It's a wonder you haven't gotten pulled over yet.

↬ "Just relax! See, let's park right there," you say, briefly gesturing to a spot sandwiched between two, very expensive-looking cars. Jamil glances between you and the cars, sighing in disbelief as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

↬ "Get out," he says, already halfway through the door. The last thing he needs is to pay for damages when you inevitably crash into those cars. "I'm going to be the one driving from now on."

Jade Leech

↬ Jade is very supportive from the start, his carefully practiced expression dismissing any of your initial concerns. Little do you know there are pads, a helmet, and a first aid kit in his bag, just in case the two of you needed it even before you arrived at the campsite. He observes you as you start the car, noting how you checked the mirrors and seatbelts first before anything else. Good.

↬ It's a long drive ahead, so he's resigned himself to keeping you alert so you don't fall asleep. After all, you're the only one with a license between the two of them, because driving with his new legs is a little too complicated for Jade yet.

↬ The drive starts out fairly fine. He has never heard that many suspicious noises in the span of a few minutes in his lifetime, but he chalks it up to your relative inexperience. No one starts out perfect at driving, especially with how difficult it is in the first place.

↬ He would've applauded you for even getting to the freeways without crashing into anyone yet if it weren't for your personality change midway. You start spewing out insults, pressing on the gas to overtake some poor grandmother who was in the wrong lane. If he hadn't known you for some time, he would've been… scared.

↬ "Yeah, get your ass off the highway if you can't keep up with the minimum speed limit," you spit as you get back to your original lane. Jade retains the calm facade on his face, but he's already thinking if he should force you into pulling over and calming down soon.

↬ "My dear," he starts out, one hand in his backpack in case he already needs to take the helmet out. "Shouldn't you exercise more patience? You are a new driver yourself, after all."

↬ "Nah," you say, swerving as another slow car blocks your way. Jade is sure you're breaking so, so many laws right now. "Oh hey, that's our exit. Crap, I'm not in the outer lane right now."

↬ After narrowly missing your exit and decreasing Jade's lifespan by at least a few years, the two of you are finally at the base of the mountain you decided on camping at. Jade's legs shake as he gets out of the car, threatening to give up as he attempts to walk over to your side.

↬ With a gentle, yet firm hand on your shoulder, he gives you his signature smile before saying, "Let us take the mirror next time, shall we?"

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #jamil viper x reader #jade leech x reader #twst fluff #jade leech fluff #jamil viper fluff

[voidstilesplease]

zenith

word count: <1000 words | tags: lovers to enemies; mancers or magic users Stiles and Theo. Theo is a Necromancer (a magician of death), while Stiles is a Dismancer (a magician of discord/chaos). Based from this tumblr post. Complete AO3 chapters here.

after years, i finally completed this au series. phew!

—-

Stiles has waited years for this day. He’s fantasized dozens of scenarios for when he and Theo cross paths again but somehow never imagined it happening this way. It was always some version of Stiles waltzing into the den of the Dread Doctors – the supernatural scientists responsible for taking Theo away from them almost two years ago – saving Theo and bringing him home.

Despite the initial distrust they had of Theo – the only Necromancer to be born in the last three centuries – once Theo proved himself and his loyalty to the House of Magic by bringing Kira back to life, endangering himself, and fighting the hunters, they couldn't deny anymore that he was one of them. Despite the type of dark magic he had – the darkest magic that every single magic user in existence fears – he belonged with them.

And he was Stiles’. Before those Dread Doctors came and disappeared with Theo in the shadows, he and Theo were discussing the lives they could and would like to have someday outside the House of Magic, outside Beacon, outside their ability.

But now, it is evident that those fantasies will never come to pass. 

“Was this your plan all along?” Stiles quietly asks, kneeling in a pool of blood. He can’t even tell whose blood it is mostly – just that it’s a mix of everyone he loves. Every one of their friends who wanted to get Theo back just as much as Stiles did. And now everyone Stiles may not get back.

Were any of those plans he made with Stiles even real for Theo? Even a little?

Theo steps forward, gesturing at the chamber, healthy and seeping with power, not at all the magic-depraved, sickly, and tortured man they were worried he would be. 

“What do you think of it, Stiles? The walls, floor, and ceiling are heavily infused with iron and lead, enough to incapacitate even a powerful magician.” When he looks at Stiles, he grins. “You know, like that one that we planned to build in the House as an isolation room? Of course, I made it ten times worse and added a little touch of fatality, but yeah. As envisioned.” He sweeps his hands around proudly like he expects Stiles to applaud his genius.

He can’t if he wants to since Theo has his arms and wrists bound in poison iron.

“I think,” Stiles replies, throat raspy from misuse, “you’re a piece of shit.”

The smile doesn’t slide off Theo’s face. He shrugs easily like the weight of what he’s done to his friends is not weighing down on him at all. “I guess, I deserve that after this... poor reception.”

No, Stiles disagrees. What he deserves is pain. An endless flow of it. Stiles has a lot of it from his friends; from himself, even more. If only he could inflict it on Theo.

“Was this your plan all along?" he asks again, looking at Theo, willing him to tell the truth. Willing him to stop his lies, for once. "Lure us in, slowly kill us to feed your magic, and then give us to the Dread Doctors to be their plaything as you were? Why wait years, then? Why didn't you let us find you right at the beginning? Why were you so confident we wouldn't just give up on you?" Quieter, he adds. “I guess that's where I come in: this stupid magician who makes a habit of upsetting the balance just to keep the people he loves. Was none of it real?” Was anything between us real?

The smile does drop, then. All charades gone. In place is a cold look. Theo shrugs again, “Does it matter now?”

Stiles exhales shakily, “It does.”

Theo frowns at his reply, “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me, Stiles?” He steps forward, suddenly enraged. “You’re the expert in creating illusions inside people’s heads, aren’t you? So, you tell me. Was any of it real?” 

Stiles scoffs. “When have I ever pretended with you? I'm here, am I not, as you knew I would be? My magic feeds off of pain. I create nightmares, Theo, not fantasies.”

“But when those fantasies fall, what is left, Stiles?”

Against his better judgment, Stiles’ eyes begin to prickle. “I’m not the one who betrayed us. We came here to save you. I came to get you back, you worthless son of a bitch.”

Theo stands abruptly, hands tightly fisted at his sides. “I don’t need saving,” he spats, turning and making for the exit. Then he stops and looks over his shoulder to say, “You never should have trusted me.”

“No,” Stiles says, hollow voice above a whisper. “I never should have.”

For a moment, Theo only stands there, looking at Stiles, at the unconscious and bloody bodies of their friends. The only reason Stiles knows they’re not dead is because he can taste their pain. He cannot use their pain, not inside this room, but he can still feel it in the prickling of his fingertips.

“I can feel your pain, too, you know?” says Stiles a moment later. His eyes meet Theo’s. “That’s how I know some of it was real for you. In a perfect world, we can still escape and live the life of our dreams.” Stiles watches the hard way Theo swallows and hears his sharp exhale of breath. “But we’re done living in that fantasy.”

Theo tears his eyes away, moves past the entrance, and presses a button to close the chamber's mechanical doors. 

For a moment, their eyes meet one last time as Stiles and Theo, the magicians who fell in love and dreamed of getting out. There’s no getting out after this.

“Welcome to your nightmare, Theo.”

And the door shuts.

—-

steo a-z: part 26

#steo #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #stiles x theo #steo A-Z #steo flash fiction #contains: Magic users Stiles and Theo #contains: lovers to enemies #contains: <1000 words #fics tag #flashficsau

[fincalinde]

tennis AU fiend back again - i was wondering whether you had any thoughts about what the scores are for the matches jgy has against nmj and wrh when he wins the FO

That's it, I've officially made a tag for this AU.

I do indeed have thoughts on the scoreline! Make way, make way for more tennis rambles. This is how JGY lifts the Coupe des Mousquetaires.

Jin Guangyao d. Nie Mingjue - semifinal

No one can deny that Nie Mingjue comes into this match in bad shape. He's carrying a couple of injuries and dropped sets to players he'd usually beat in straights. But this is a grudge match for him—the tournament where his father's career ended with a humiliating defeat to WRH. NMJ's father never won RG. NMJ has also never won RG—yet.

JGY, meanwhile, is in the form of his life thanks to his affiliation with the Wen agency juggernaut. It doesn't matter. No one thinks he has a chance even against a NMJ who's below his best, and at first it looks like they're right.

Set 1 - 7-6 (7-5)

JGY manages to hang onto his serve by the narrowest of margins. He doesn't get a single break point on NMJ's serve until the tiebreak when he snaffles the crucial mini-break by forcing an error off NMJ's backhand. He takes his first set point with an absolute classic of a disguised dropshot that NMJ can't get to in time. The crowd are excited mostly because they're surprised this match might be remotely competitive.

NMJ smashes his racket. He doesn't get a warning for racket abuse.

Analogous to NMJ's assault on the Wen in the latter stages of the war culminating in the moment when JGY reveals himself as being in WRH's employ.

Set 2 - 7-6 (7-5) 6-2

JGY sends NMJ running back and forth, using his insider knowledge of NMJ's chronic injuries to his advantage and giving NMJ very little opportunity to unleash his forehand. NMJ just can't slide well on the clay—that level of flexibility has never been his strong point, and all the quick turns and being dragged crosscourt are taking a toll. The crowd are confused but there's not really a sense of doubt that NMJ will break back and take this set to restore order. Some people are starting to get behind JGY because regardless of MDZS canon it is a science fact that tennis fans enjoy a good upset and NMJ is more respected than beloved.

NMJ takes a medical time out during the change of ends at 2-5 just after being broken for the second time, and JGY serves out to love, taking his first set point with a rare ace.

Analogous to JGY's taunting of NMJ including handling Baxia and referring to his father's death.

Set 3 - 7-6 (7-5) 6-2 0-6

Normal service is resumed. NMJ is absolutely furious about being two sets to love down against Meng Yao of all people and he takes a bathroom break that's a couple of minutes over the maximum time allowed. The umpire doesn't penalise this and the crowd don't express disapproval either.

NMJ finds his forehand and blows JGY off the court as one would expect. The third set is over in twenty-six minutes. A lot of NMJ's shots are body shots, intentionally hit directly at JGY so he has to dodge at the same time as attempting to return. Several make contact. Set point is a forehand down the line JGY has no hope of getting near.

Analogous to NMJ attacking JGY and striking him.

Set 4 - 7-6 (7-5) 6-4 0-6 6-0

JGY has remained composed and smiling throughout the match, even applauding NMJ's good play at times. Now he's dropped the smile that disguises the intensity of his focus and after an epic battle with multiple deuces he breaks NMJ's serve.

Then he does it again. The crowd cannot believe this is happening. In contrast to the lighting-fast bagel of the third, this is the longest and most precarious and difficult bagel in the history of the sport. It lasts longer than most sets that go to 7-5. Nevertheless, NMJ does not win a game, and when JGY takes his seventh match point with a favourable netcord he looks over to the debentures where WRH is watching and applauding.

Analogous to JGY kicking NMJ and continuing to assault and berate him until WRH takes over.

Jin Guangyao d. Wen Ruohan - final

This one doesn't need much of a set by set breakdown because it's in straights and it's over sooner than anyone can imagine, 6-4, 6-2, 6-1. JGY plays absolutely out of his skin and he's almost as surprised as everyone else not just that he wins but that he does it swiftly and in some style. We are talking 2019 Wimbledon final Halep level of play here. Absolutely eviscerating a legend of the sport.

First set - JGY breaks WRH at 4-4 then serves out. Second set - at 2-2, JGY wins the next four games. Third set - JGY wins four games on the trot to make it eight games in a row, drops one game on WRH's serve then closes out by holding and breaking WRH again. Championship point is the Murray-worthy lob that leaves WRH totally wrong-footed.

The crowd are shell-shocked but also going absolutely wild. JGY has gone from being that upstart who ruined the NMJ-WRH showdown everyone wanted, the one whose presence in the final has turned it into a procession for WRH, to immediate superstar.

Analogous to the suddenness of JGY killing WRH who is most definitely not expecting it, then revealing he's a spy and a war hero.

Bonus LXC

Naturally LXC attends both matches, the former ostensibly to support NMJ, though when JGY wins he goes to find him after the on court interview so he can congratulate him. After congratulating JGY and showing his support, he goes to commiserate with NMJ and spends an inordinate amount of time patiently rebutting NMJ's accusations of poor sportsmanship and corruption etc.

During the final he's in JGY's box and seems to be the only person on the planet who isn't surprised when JGY wins. He and JGY are confirmed to be entering the doubles at Wimbledon.

#ask #testblog-54 #roquen's xiyao tennis au #i said at the beginning you don't know how deep this goes #no tags can encompass this monstrosity #the most niche of all the niche stuff i do

[aralezinspace]

Songs in the Dark

Requested by anonymous: Morpheus x reader where they have broken up and he watches from afar? Reader doesn't notice him until they're singing a heartbreak song and doesn't break eye contact with him to make sure he knows just how much they're hurting

A/N: ... I made myself cry writing this one. Hurt no comfort kind of, mostly pining and longing, feels galore. I try to keep my SFW reader inserts gender ambiguous, so for the song at the end here's Frank Sinatra's version for the masc aligned folks and Bette Midler's version for the femme aligned folks cuz everyone deserves a chance to have Dream pining for them tagging @fangirlmary this is also totally My Kind Of Shit, I'm a musical theater actor so if anyone wants to hear me sing this to morpheus hit me up i'll make a vid xD

~~Requests for Morpheus and the Doctor (9-13) are open!~~

You should have told them no. There was no way you could do this. How in the hell were you supposed to sing when your throat was clenched so tightly around tears and sobs you could barely talk? Either way, ten minutes before your first two songs was too late to pull out.

You drank some water and let out a shuddering breath. The stage manager knocked on the door to the greenroom and murmured, “Y/N, you’re on in five.”

“Thank you five,” you choked back, giving him a nod. You took another sip of water and tossed the bottle back in your bag. A quick glance in the mirror to make sure your face and hair were performance ready- they were, even if your face was a little pale.

You stared your reflection down and took a few more deep breaths. “Okay,” you told yourself, “We’re gonna get through these four songs, give ‘em a good show, then you can go home and cry over ice cream and a sappy movie. You can do this.” The last bit didn’t sound convincing at all.

The stage manager returned. “Y/N, you’re on deck, we’re ready in the wings.”

“Thank you on deck.” One more deep breath and you followed the stage manager up the narrow stairs to stage level. Another singer gave you a quick smile as she passed you on her way back to the greenroom.

A shiver ran down your spine at the change in temperature when you got into the wings, ears filled with piano music and the man currently singing on stage. Your mind slipped into that fuzzy yet focused state you found yourself in when performing. You know the words. Don't think, just do. You heard the audience applaud at the end of the song, sounded like a decent sized crowd. You took another deep breath and shook the numbness out of your fingers.

The man who was just singing gave you a thumbs up as he walked off the stage and the announcer started to introduce you. There was another round of applause when your name was announced; you willed your legs to carry you forward onto the stage.

The heat of the spotlights instantly warmed and half-blinded you. Combined with the dim lights at the back of the room, most of the audience was only visible as shapeless forms in various shades of black You could almost pick out some facial features of the people sitting in the back as you approached the standing mic and gave the pianist a nod.

You took a steadying breath as you heard the first chords of the song. Everything seemed to fall away, there was nothing in the world except for you, the piano, and the microphone. Your eyes softly fell shut for just a moment. You took another breath, pulling air all the way into the bottom of your lungs, supported by your diaphragm. The first words were already half formed in your mouth. Your eyes eased open.

And then you saw him.

At first, he appeared to be a cool black, vaguely person-shaped blob, much like the rest of the audience. He had situated himself against the back wall, dead center stage. The details sharpened as your eyes once again adjusted to the spotlights: the tufts of midnight hair you knew were softer than the finest cashmere; the pale skin that appeared to shimmer with starlight if you looked long and hard enough; the faint, almost imperceptible glow from the flames and stars of his cloak. That glow almost seemed a trick of the spotlights, but you knew better.

It was a testament to your skill that you kept singing as if nothing was amiss, as if your ancient, eldritch former boyfriend wasn’t burning holes into the core of your being with the intensity of his stare. Your knees almost gave out, and you tried to make your death grip on the microphone stand part of the emotion the song was trying to convey.

Also to your credit, you refused to break eye contact, staring down those black pits that would have been utterly soulless if not for the tiniest glimmer of light.

Your mind wandered during the short piano interlude. Why was he here, looking as if he were about to explode into shadows and dissolve into sand at the same time? Why did he seem so… hurt? After all, he was the one who did the breaking up- his version of “it’s not you, it’s me,” Endless and mortals cannot be together, it always ends in ruin. The fact that you were willing to risk ruin, willing to prove the universe and the stories wrong was utterly ignored, never mind how strong and deep your love for each other was. I'm sorry Y/N, my light. My heart. His choked, gruff words echoed in your mind, quickly replaced by the next lyrics.

The song you were singing was playful and flirty, but you knew the next one was much more melancholy, full of longing and empty sadness. You hit the last note and held it perfectly, lips twitching into a small, pride-filled smile as the audience broke into applause. When it died down, you gave the pianist another nod and he started your next song.

When you had first agreed to perform at this cabaret, you had picked this song for no reason other than the vibes; a melancholy, jazzy piece was right at home among the velvet chairs and faint cigarette smoke. The meter of the song was straightforward, but the nature of the lyrics left lots of room for variation.

~I'm gonna love you, like nobody's loved you, come rain or come shine. High as a mountain, deep as a river, come rain or come shine.~

You felt the barely healed cracks in your heart start to fissure. The hurt, the love, the wistful, melancholic longing, the strength of your faith in the two of you together, Morpheus could see it all on your trembling face, in your sparkling, watery eyes. Could hear it in every crooning note, every word you sang.

~I guess when you met me, it was just one of those things. But don't ever bet me, cause I'm gonna be true if you let me.~

Now it was you staring burning holes into him. Dream could feel the stubborn determination in your gaze pierce him through skin and bone, all the way to his heart and soul. He barely breathed, not wanting to disturb a single atom of the room while you poured your heart into the song.

The rest of the world disappeared; to Morpheus it was just you and him in that darkened room, a single spotlight illuminating your form, the accompaniment lightly riding the air. You were singing to him, no one else. Your eyes hadn’t left his for a second.

~You're gonna love me, like nobody's loved me, come rain or come shine. Happy together, unhappy together, and won't it be fine.~

Your gaze turned sad and knowing, even as a quivering smile stretched your lips. Dream knew in the depths of his being that you were right. No matter what the universe did or didn’t do, his heart would always belong to you. And that was why he had to end it. If you perished, surely, so would he.

~Days may be cloudy, or sunny. We're in, or we're out, of the money.~

Again, that love and passion fueled fire filled your eyes. These weren’t Harold Arlen’s lyrics anymore: they were a declaration of your unfading love. You meant every word, and they were for him alone.

~But I'm with you always, I'm with you rain or shine.~

Morpheus was filled with so many emotions swirling like a storm he could barely name them all: shame, love, pride, adoration, longing, the sweetest, deepest hurt.

The piano slowed, gently pulling the chords from the keys, giving you the freedom to sing the last words as your heart dictated, not the sheet music. Faint flashes of silver flickered to life in his eyes when he saw a solitary tear roll down your cheek, heard the shakiness of your breath as you sang the last phrase:

~Rain or shine~

#The Sandman #The Sandman fanfic #Morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #Morpheus fanfic #my stuff

[afrobeatsindacity]

Rema, The Prince Of Nigerian music

Rema and Selena Gomez's "Calm Down" continues to shatter worldwide records as it advances its claim for 2023's Song Of The Summer, and indeed for every other season—it has in fact completed a year on the Billboard Top 100 chart, and even now continues to chart in the Top 20. And as its impact has been far reaching, so also have the accolades. The most recent of these came only a few days ago, when the song officially crossed 1 billion streams on Spotify, crowning it the first African song to reach this feat, and also one of the 500 most streamed music tracks of all time. Before this was the MTV Video Music Award ceremony, where a charismatic Rema received an award for the maiden 'Best Afrobeats Song' category. Before calling on his co-creator to say a few words of thanks, he paid homage to Nigerian music icons that paved his way to the world's biggest stages—names like Fela, pioneer of Afrobeat (no 's'); D'banj and 2Baba, prominent figures who ruled through the 00s; Don Jazzy and D'Prince, his mentors at Mavin and Jonzing, his record labels; and of course Nigerian music royalty Wizkid, Burna Boy and Davido.

It is fitting that he makes such acknowledgements at a time when he too is progressing towards a career of this status. Nigerian music's growth, like he succinctly put, has come slowly but surely off the back of these creators, so that now, "Calm Down"'s worldwide acceptance does not draw the surprise it deserves from the Nigerian audience; exploits of the last two years appear to have numbed its citizens to what is possible. Two years ago, Essence, the Wizkid-Tems sultry collaboration that got a Justin Beiber touch for its remix, was having its moment in the sun with each new step applauded by the country, and it is important for context that Rema’s song has already amassed five times as many Spotify streams as its predecessor.

For many, this moment was always going to arrive for Nigerian music, the day when we would no longer need tags like "For an African artist" to qualify a new win; we would compete with parity against music from anywhere in the world. And for a tiny subset of these believers, it was always going to be Rema at the forefront of the vanguard effecting this cultural revolution for Nigeria. For the artist, born Divine Ikubor, has always borne a mark of divinity.

After catching the eye of D’prince, CEO of Jonzing record label, via a cover of his song, "Gucci Gang" that he posted on Instagram, the Benin-based singer got an invite to come to Lagos for a proper audition, after which he was signed to Jonzing, a Mavin record affiliate. At the age of 19 he made his entry via a self-named EP, a Mavin tradition, that highlighted in only four songs what Rema was set to bring to the industry. His euphonious vocals were for many the biggest and most prognostic highlight, but they masked other crucial aspects of his artistry—the depth of emotion he channels on "Why", and his dexterity in balancing this beside the fast-spinning Afropop bangers, "Dumebi" and "Iron Man".

A few months later, he made his reprisal, but in a new apparel—Trap music. His Rema Freestyle EP projected speedy delivery, snappy trap beats and rhymes about money, as Rema displayed another aspect of his artistry. Most noticeable was his sparsity of romantic themes on the new project, the substance with which he propped up his earlier effort. His third project, Bad Commando, found the balance between these two extremes, placing confident statements of self-aggrandisation (Dem know say I be bad commando”, he sings on Bad Commando) side by side with affecting professions of infatuation (The moment I see you na up NEPA, he begins on “Lady”), while he switches between Trap and Pop on the production side of things.

Releasing this project meant it was a very busy debut year for the singer, and at the 13th edition of the Headies he was awarded the Next Rated award—earmarking him as the next big star. In January he picked up a similar plaque at the Soundcity MVP Awards, and together with his City People Award for Revelation Of The Year, these plaques underscored how outstanding his debut year was. In 2020, though, it was time for the next stage of music release strategy, and this time he worked by releasing singles, as he tried to establish his sound as a balance of his Afropop, Trap and Arabian music origins. His first effort of the year was the two single pack of "Rainbow" and "Beamer", and the latter was the significantly more successful song, featuring Jamaican producer Rvssian who incorporated traces of the Dancehall genre.

These songs, along with his June release, "Alien", were drawn chiefly from the Trap corner of his artistry, but to properly dominate a country like Nigerian, he would need to create for a dance-loving audience, and with his next two singles, the melodious, groovy "Ginger Me" and the explosive "Woman", he sought to do exactly that. With the latter, Rema’s material also took on a sultry turn—“I too like woman, me I no dey gboran”—that he reprised with his next single, the Don Jazzy–produced "Bounce". Already Rema’s profile was growing exponentially on a national level as he sought inroads into the global market.

2022, for Rema, was the time to crystallise this three-year dominance in Nigeria's industry into a recognisable global profile. He released "Calm Down" in February, melding Afropop, Arabian and Dancehall influences for a track that was still authentically Nigerian—"Girl you sweet like Fanta", he says, reworking a popular Nigerian children's rhyme into a missive of playful adulation—and yet lent itself to foreign acceptance. To advance its entry into foreign markets, a stroke of collaborative genius brought a Selena Gomez remix, pouring fuel into the fire of the song's momentum so that it sauntered into the next gear of its worldwide ascent. With this remix has come multiple broken records, a couple of awards (including one for Rema as Headies Best Male Artist), and certifications that continue to roll in by the day.

As Rema continues to break new grounds both historically and geographically,—as in his recently-completed Indian tour—the next sets of doubts will centre around whether he can extend this fame beyond "Calm Down", and insert himself properly in world stardom. But that should be no problem. A combination of his astute singing talent, evocative writing and undeniable star power should ensure Rema fulfils his promise as prince of Nigerian music.

This article was written by Afrobeats City Contributor Ezema Patrick - @ezemapatrick (Twitter)

Afrobeats City doesn’t own the right to the images - image source: Instagram - @Scrdofme

#Afrobeats #AfrobeatsCity #Afrobeats article #Rema #Africa #African music #Afrobeats UK #UK Afrobeats #Afropop #Afrofusion #Calm Down #Selena Gomez