#and norm is like 'chat; should we kill this guy? yes or no' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

baepsaesbae · 3 years

Text

Sugar, Snow, and Everything Glows

Pairing— Park Jimin x female reader ft. OT7

Genre— Fluff, College au, Friends to Lovers, Holiday au

Warnings— None

Word Count— 3.6k

Summary— You’ve gone the entire semester being friends with Park Jimin. Now that the holiday season is in full swing, will things take a turn?

A/N— This gift was created through @bwcsecretsanta event and is for @pjmsdior. Surprise! I’m your Secret Santa, Winter Bear ❄️🐻 It has been so fun getting to know you and sending fun little asks. Please stay in touch and know that you can always come chat with me! I hope you enjoy my present, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays~

“We only have two days before everyone goes home. Well, I guess it’s more like one and a half now. We gotta make this count!” Jungkook enthusiastically stated to everyone crammed into his tiny dorm room.

“We just finished our last final, can’t we chill out for tonight? We can watch a holiday movie or something,” Taehyung complained.

“That’s exactly why we should celebrate! I heard they’re having a floor wide gingerbread house competition tonight,” Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows.

“Yes, we all know that, Kookie. We literally all live on the same floor and have the same RA,” you reminded him, “Honestly, I’m down to make a gingerbread house. I haven’t done that in forever.”

“Then it’s decided, we’re building edible houses tonight. We still have a few hours to kill so we can watch a movie if you guys want,” Jimin suggested.

With everyone in agreement, all four of you crammed onto Jungkook’s tiny twin bed to watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000). Your first semester of college has been a success. You aced all your classes and lucked out on being in a great friend group. You met all three boys at your first dorm mixer. Thankfully, you all came to a mutual agreement that dorm parties were way too crowded and not even that fun if you weren’t completely drunk. So, you all decided to leave together and played ping pong in the lobby. All four of you had been good friends since.

Jimin and Taehyung were roommates and were practically inseparable. For once, it seemed like the random roommate system created a perfect match. Jungkook was the luckiest of all, since his roommate dropped out early on and he never got a replacement one so he had a room all to himself. The other boys joked that he could have hookups any time he wanted but despite his good looks, Jungkook wawa rather shy when it came to girls. He was awkward when you first met, but he easily warmed up to you and now treats you like one of the boys (Jimin often has to remind him of this when he tells him to keep his poop jokes to a minimum).

You used to get dirty looks from other freshman girls when they saw you surrounded by all the cute boys, but you learned to ignore them. You tried going on dates with some guys, but freshman boys are still just high schoolers disguised as college students. Needless to say, you never found any guy that interested you.

Of course, no one could blame you for having a tiny crush on Jimin. You liked everything about him. He was extremely thoughtful, very intelligent, and was in fact a very cute boy. However, you kept your romantic feelings a secret because you didn’t want to ruin the group dynamics.

These thoughts were hard to suppress when you were literally pressed up against his chest. In order for everyone to fit comfortably, Jimin offered for you to lean against him as he put his arm around you. The other boys paid no attention to his move, which you were thankful for because they would have made fun of you for blushing. You couldn’t pay attention to the movie. You were engulfed by Jimin’s scent (he wore a light yet alluring cologne), and your heart was beating so loudly you were worried that he could hear it.

“Should we wear Christmas sweaters?” Jungkook glanced at the clock as soon as the movie ended.

“I don’t have any,” you shook your head.

“I have an extra, you can borrow it if you’d like, “Jimin offered.

“Perfect! Tae do you have one?” Jungkook didn’t give you time to reply.

“I have one with polar bears on it,” Taehyung answered.

“That’ll work! Let’s meet back here in 10,” Jungkook stated as he stripped off his shirt.

“Stop showing off,” Taehyung laughed as he slapped the younger boy’s abs, “C’mon ___, let’s go get changed.”

The other boys’ room was just a couple doors down from Jungkook’s. Taehyung went to change in the bathroom while Jimin picked out a sweater for you. You waited patiently while you looked around Jimin’s side of the room. Your gaze stopped at his polaroid collection that hung above his desk. Looking at them made you smile as you reminisce the fond memories from throughout the semester. You saw the boys laughing and smiling, a surprising number of Jungkook shirtless, and a few selfies that only got Jimin’s forehead as he tried to fit everyone in the picture.

Then you saw one you’ve never seen before. It was a solo picture of you from Halloween. You wore one of your favorite black dresses with flowy sleeves paired with a pointy witch hat that brought the look together. Upon a closer look, you realized you weren’t even looking at the camera. Instead, you were looking away at an angle that made it seem like you were doing one of those classic model poses.

“I didn’t know you took this,” you called to Jimin, who was rummaging through his closet.

“Oh. Yeah, you just looked picturesque in that moment. I’m glad I got to capture it,” Jimin said in an uncharacteristically bashful way, “Here’s my Santa sweater,” he handed you the article of clothing.

“I actually look kinda cute here, so you did a good job,” you teased him as you put the sweater on over your shirt.

“You always look cute, so don’t worry about that,” Jimin smiled softly.

“You guys ready?” Taehyung barged in, ruining the moment.

“Yep!” you quickly answered and walked out of the room. Jimin was always sweet, but was he purposely flirting with you there?

“Give me a second, I’m almost ready,” Jimin responded with a tinge of annoyance.

Jungkook was already waiting outside the room, apparently too impatient to wait for everyone to show up in his room. He was sporting a green sweater that was obnoxiously decorated with real ornaments.

“Did you make that yourself?” Taehyung asked in awe.

“Made it last year with my family; they insisted I bring it with me,” Jungkook shrugged, “Let’s go win this thing!”

“Whaddup guys?” your RA, Jin, greeted the group as you entered the lobby. Four gingerbread kits were set up on a table in the middle of the lobby. Jin glanced at his watch and sighed.

“Hey Jin. Ready for the holidays?” you asked.

“Ready to get away from all you troublemakers,” Jin laughed, “Just kidding. You guys are the only ones who show up to my events, so you’re all automatically my favorites. I had to invite a few of my friends to help make it a real competition.”

“There’s already four people here though, that’s all you need,” Taehyung observed.

“That’s no fun. This is a team competition,” Jin explained, “Counting my friends, I think we can split up perfectly into teams of two.”

“I call ___,” Jimin immediately spoke up.

“Dude, I thought we were gonna be partners,” Taehyung looked butt hurt.

“Don’t worry Tae, we’ll kick their asses. Let’s combine our creative juices together,” Jungkook slung an arm around Taehyung.

“Fine. But keep your juices to yourself,” Taehyung sighed.

“What’s good, party people?” an unfamiliar voice shouted.

“Ready to show these Freshman how to properly make a gingerbread house?” Jin called out to his friends, “These goons are Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok. I’ll pair up with Namjoon.”

“Sope in the HOUSE!” Yoongi and Hoseok hollered in unison.

“Oh, and I forgot to mention that the winner gets a $50 giftcard,” Jin winked, “Ready, set, go!”

You and Jimin quickly got to unwrapping all of the goods. You were in charge of putting the house together as Jimin thought about how to decorate. The icing that held the walls together looked a bit messy, but you could cover that up with even more frosting.

“Wanna start icing the details and I’ll add the candy?” Jimin suggested.

“Yes chef,” you nodded and got back to work.

Jimin delicately added gumdrops and mints to the roof and added licorice to line the windows. You moved on to take care of the front yard. You added candy canes to make an arches along the front walkway, which was lined with kisses. More and more candy was being added onto the house up until Jin’s timer rang.

“Time’s up! Step away from the houses! Let’s start from this side with Jungkook and Taehyung’s house,” Jin announced.

“It’s certainly...avant garde,” Jimin commented. Icing was piped around the house in intricate patterns and candy was strewn across the house with no rhyme or reason.

“We didn’t want to be confined to the cookie cutter gingerbread house norms,” Taehyung said proudly.

“I can’t tell the windows apart from the door,” Namjoon whispered.

“You’re not supposed to!” Jungkook snapped, “Our house is anything you want to imagine.”

“Alright, moving on-- what the hell? Did you guys even try?” Jin shot a disgusted glare at the SOPE team.

“In my defense, I haven’t had dinner yet,” Yoongi shrugged.

“And I thought it wasn’t fair that only Yoongi got to eat it so I joined him,” Hoseok hung his head.

You stifled your laughter as you looked at their plate. Candies were piled up and the house laid unconstructed with many bites taken out of it. Jin shook his head and continued to present his house, which honestly was not much better than his friends’ lack of a house.

“This one was my bad,” Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck.

The gingerbread house looked like it was struggling to stand up. The walls were lopsided and the icing was messily laced around the entire thing.

“I wanted to go for a White Christmas look and have the roof be completely covered with the icing. But thanks to Namjoon’s sloppy work, it got too heavy and the house started to fall apart--” the house collapsed right as Jin said that.

“___ and I made a picture perfect gingerbread house,” Jimin boasted. It was true. Your house looked like it was done by a professional. The icing was well done and the candies were placed in all the right places. No one else made a front lawn like you guys.

“It looks like we have a clear winner,” Jin nodded.

“Good try guys, better luck next time,” Jungkook stepped up to claim the prize.

“___ and Jimin are the winners,” Jin handed you the giftcard while looking at Jungkook in disbelief.

“Woohoo! Great job __!” Jimin cheered and hugged you tightly. You once again caught a whiff of his cologne and felt yourself melting in his arms.

“Boo! Lames!” Jungkook yelled at you both.

“Wait, is it snowing?” Yoongi said as he looked out the window.

Sure enough, white flurries were swirling around as snow landed on the ground. It must have been snowing for a bit, as it was actually sticking to the ground and there was at least an inch of it.

“Let’s go let’s go!” Jimin took your hand and dragged you to the elevator.

“You too, Jin. I wanna pelt my RA in the face,” Jungkook stuck his tongue out at Jin.

“Oh you’re on, kid. Let’s go boys,” Jin motioned to his friends.

Cold air whipped across your face as soon as you walked outside. You weren’t wearing nearly enough warm layers and the cold chilled you to the bone.You stuck your tongue out to catch snowflakes as you shivered. Jimin wrapped his arms around you, catching you off guard.

“Cold?” he whispered in your ear.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted as you felt your ears warm up. Right as you said that, a small white ball exploded on your chest. Jungkook had his signature bunny smile plastered on his face as he laughed hysterically. He was on a rampage, and you laughed as you watched him chase Jin around with a gigantic snowball.

“Oh, it’s on!” Jimin yelled at him as he started to form ammunition of his own.

You went to stake your own tiny claim of land to make snowballs in. Taehyung was running around with an arm full, pelting anyone in sight. Endless bouts of laughter echoed outside of the dormitory as you and your friends engaged in an intense snowball fight. There was no clear winner, but no one could feel their extremities by the end of it.

“Alright alright truce! You kids go take a hot shower before you get sick. I don’t wanna get blamed for anyone having an unpleasant holiday season,” Jin finally shooed all of his kids out of the snow.

“I can’t believe this. Why do my parents have to come pick me up a day early?” Jungkook complained as he sprawled out on his bed.

“Because they love you and are excited to see you, Kookie. Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to partake in more shenanigans next semester,” you patted his ankle in reassurance.

“If you’re leaving, then I’ll probably drive home today too. I miss Tannie,” Taehyung sighed.

“Why? ___ and Jimin are still here. You guys can have fun without me,” Jungkook pouted. Jimin and Taehyung exchanged a quick glance at each other before Taehyung talked about how much he missed his adorable little fluffy companion.

“I’m telling you, you have to sneak Tannie over here next semester,” you joked.

“He’ll get too excited and bark. Jin is chill, but probably not that chill,” Taehyung said somberly, “But don’t worry! We can take a field trip to my house next semester for sure. My mom makes the best food.”

“I can’t wait buddy,” Jimin smiled as Jungkook finally got out of bed to start packing. All three of you saw Jungkook off once his family came to pick him up. His mother was sweet and you could tell that he got his charisma from his father. Taehyung hugged both of you goodbye and you watched him drive off.

“Guess it’s just us left huh,” Jimin observed.

“What do you wanna do? It’s not even 11am yet,” you checked the time, “Oh! How do you wanna split up the gift card? It’s a visa so it can be used anywhere.”

“Why don’t we spend it together? That way it’s fair. What do you say to one final outing to commemorate the end of a great semester?” Jimin offered.

“Sounds good! Do you wanna stay on campus or?” you trailed off.

“I have an idea,” Jimin nodded, “But it’s a surprise! Meet in my room after we get dressed? Change into something a little warmer.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes.

You showed up in front of Jimin’s door wearing a cozy sweater a couple minutes later. You also sprayed on some of your favorite perfume, but he probably wouldn’t notice. Nor would he notice the extra effort you put into styling your hair.

“Hey you ready to have some fun?” Jimin greeted you with a smile, “You look...nice.”

“Thanks, you too. Now will you tell me where we’re going?” you asked.

“I’ll tell you on the way. C’mon let’s go catch the train!” Jimin led you by the hand down the hallway yet again.

The way he said that you looked nice made you feel self conscious. He had the same tone that people have when someone really doesn’t look nice but they were too far into the sentence to correct themselves. Now sitting together on the train, you wondered if you were wearing too much perfume.

“How do you feel about ice skating?” Jimin asked.

“I love it. Haven’t done it in a while though,” you answered.

“Perfect! I realize I probably should’ve made sure you enjoy skating before surprising you with it,” Jimin laughed nervously.

“This still makes for a fine impromptu date,” you laughed with him before realizing what you said.

“Date?”

“Sure is weird not having those two around causing a scene!” you interrupted him.

“Um, yeah. They’re good dudes,” Jimin awkwardly agreed.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. You finally get some alone time with Jimin and you’re making it all weird. The other boys always made sure there was never a dull moment during your escapades. You wished they were here right now.

“This is our stop,” Jimin tapped on your knee.

The snow had stuck overnight, making everything that the sun touched glisten. Your spirits lifted as you walked around the decorated town, the festivity of everything seeped into you. Christmas lights were strung up everywhere, and there were big red bows on nearly everything.

“You good? You seem kinda out of it,” Jimin nudged you.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine! Don’t worry about it,” you shot him a fake smile.

“Hey, don’t lie to me. I’d like to think I know you better than that. What’s wrong?” Jimin prodded.

“It’s nothing really. It’s silly, believe me,” you replied quickly.

“___,” Jimin said in a serious tone.

“I didn’t mean to say ‘date’. It was just a stupid slip up and I guess I was worried about making this awkward when you’re really just trying to be a good friend and--”

“This is a date,” Jimin stated.

“It--what?” you were surprised.

“The boys and I have been planning this since last month. We figured it would be the only natural way for us to spend time together. Alone,” Jimin blushed as he looked at the ground.

“If you wanted to make it seem natural then you probably shouldn’t have disguised it as an accidental stroke of luck,” you crossed your arms, “And the way you said I looked nice earlier made me feel like I’ve had something on my face this whole time.”

“No no! You really do look nice! I was actually gonna say super cute but I chickened out. Aw, ___, you look lovely. I’m sorry I made you self conscious,” Jimin pulled you in for a hug, “I’ve liked you for a while, but I was scared that you didn’t feel the same way. If this makes you uncomfortable, we can just forget about this whole date thing and just skate as friends,” he whispered.

“I was scared of ruining the group so I never wanted to tell you that I like you,” you responded once the hug ended.

“I guess we both goofed. So can we call this an official date?” Jimin asked with a hopeful smile.

“Yes, yes we can,” you laughed.

“Sweet. Since it’s a date, can I hold your hand?” Jimin held out his hand and you happily took it. He led you to the ice rink as you both laughed and made fun of each other for being so coy for the entire semester.

“So how long have you liked me?” you asked.

“Would it be cheesy to say since I first laid eyes on you?”

“Yes.”

“Then since I first laid eyes on you,” Jimin was pleased with his answer.

“And the other two knew?”

“The entire time,” Jimin confirmed, “It was actually Taehyung who came up with this plan.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me out normally?” you tilted your head.

“Honestly, we never thought of that,” Jimin admitted.

“You boys are all so dumb,” you laughed.

“True, but it worked!” Jimin defended, “We’re here! You got the gift card on you?”

After paying for the ice skate rentals, it was now you leading Jimin into the ice rink. It had been a while since you last skated, and you were eager to glide across the ice again. You dragged Jimin behind you as you trudged forward.

“Do you not know how to skate?” you looked back at him.

“I do, but this is more fun,” Jimin smiled. You let go of his hand and took off. You laughed as he struggled to chase you. His version of skating was more like inching forward very very slowly with the grace of a newborn deer. You skated circles around him to tease him. The teasing continued until you both wore yourselves out (and your rental time was up).

“That was fun,” you announced happily.

“Speak for yourself, I lost track of how many times I fell on my butt,” Jimin rubbed his backside with a sad frown.

“7 times. And you fell onto your knees 3 times,” you informed him, “Do you wanna grab something to eat to make you feel better?”

“Some hot chocolate would smack right now,” he nodded.

“Let’s go get you warmed up big boy. Wanna go to Starbucks or something?”

“I have some hot chocolate back in the dorm. Can we heat that up and watch a movie?” Jimin asked sweetly. You nodded and made your way back to the train station. You leaned onto Jimin’s shoulder on the way back, enjoying your new freedom to be a little flirty with him.

Once back in Jimin’s dorm room, you made the hot chocolate while he changed into pants that didn’t have ice all over them. Both of you snuggled together on Jimin’s bed while Die Hard played on his laptop (believe it or not, that counts as a Christmas movie).

“Would you say today’s date was a success?” Jimin asked before taking a sip of his drink.

“I’d say so. I think we get along well,” you nodded.

“Well that’s a relief. I can take you on more next semester if that’s okay with you,” he looked into your eyes.

“That’s perfectly fine with me,” you smiled before kissing his cheek. This semester definitely ended on a high note. Tis the season.

#bwcssy2 #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #clubjimin #bts fluff #park jimin fluff #kpop fluff #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #jimin fanfic #park jimin #bts #ot7 fluff

102 notes · View notes

poison--ivory · 3 years

Text

Uninviting Cataclysm(Alastor x Reader) Chapter 1

Daily routine isn't always good

(You call the old couple mom and dad) *Also sorry I didn't mention until now that you have really curly hair and your biracial(so you can decide what your skin color is)* •You were also raised up north and still kind of speak with that dialect•

June 6, 1915 Age: 20

The morning sun pushing through the curtains along with the sound of dogs barking slowly woke you up. Forcing yourself up and managing to bear from the comfort of your bed and it's still warm sheets. First, tidying your bed spread neat before mom could scold you.

Making your way to the wardrobe to gather clothes for today's venture, you grabbed a (f/c) V-neck, short flutter sleeve dress that hits mid thigh. With matching flats to best match your dress. Oncing over the choice for today you thought it was best enough. Setting them on the bed and quickly making your way out of your room and into the hallway.

Swiftly moving down corridor to the bathroom to freshen up before breakfast. Seeing that your old mom already set a nice bath for you. Letting your gown carelessly fall off your frame and removing your undergarments. Mindlessly going into deep thought about your day.

You usually go to the library to read or grab a book. Maybe chat with the sweet old lady and her seven year old grandson who run the place. Then, possibly taking a stroll around the fair that just open for the summer. By that time your already bringing your twin something for lunch.

Later, you either stop by the market to pick up groceries or you help your mom take care of wealthy white kids. Their parents pay mom a great deal to care for their children. She does literally everything for them from making meals to sewing dresses or little suits. But, some clients left after my brother and I showed up I guess they didn't want their children to be near a person of color for too long. The ones that stayed seem nice enough. My personal favorite being a middle aged man, Henry Bourgeois, who always said, 'hello' and gave me small tips for caring for his daughter Sally.

Your skin started to prune sitting in the water for too long. Stepping out of the tub and snatching a towel from the rack you started to dry off. Starting with hair and slowly making your way down to your toes.

Wrapping the towel around your womanly frame you crept back to your bedroom and got dressed.

__________________________

Once downstairs the smell of bacon and spices hit your nose and triggering your mouth to salivate. Walking into the kitchen you found your mom just about done with her last plate to place at the table with the two others. You greeted her with a warm hug and a 'Good Morning, Mom'. She smiled back and gave your cheek a quick peck. Then went to sit in your chair and wait for your plate.

"Good Mornin', sweetheart. How'd sleep?" She asked, turning back around to slide the eggs on the plate.

"Better than yesterday I can tell you that for sure. The dream I had was so realistic with the flames of hell melting my flesh. I could of sworn that my eyes busted through my soc-" You were cut off by a plate slamming down in front of. Looking up mom had a stern look to her aged face.

"Now ya need ta stop talking 'bout ya dreams like that. Really unladylike especially in public," She spoke with a slight authoritative tone. Lightly limping to her chair she spoke again, "it's just a dame should stay in her own lane. Not that I don't wancha to get a little fire on me now. Men just don't like that talk ya know."

Nodding to her response she took the answer and went on her to turn up the radio for the daily news.

Good Morning, ladies and gentlemen and welcome back to the radio show.

Staring your favorite radio host, I Alastor, to brighten up your morning with a few songs, but let me darken your day for just a minute with such sad news. Another body was found by an egg last night floating down the bayou.

Coppers have yet to capture this Button man. This tallies up to over twenty people in a span of two years. Now what most of you fine folk want to listen to here we have, Mr. Artie Matthew's play the 'Weary Blues'

The piano playing filled in the silence that would have been forks hitting plates trying to pick up flimsy fried egg.

The killings haven't been new and have been the norm for awhile. You can hear people talking about it at every street, alleyway and bar.

The coppers haven't caught the guy yet and it puts lots of people on edge. Especially people with families.

Nearly shoving food in my face causing mom to tell you to slow down. But, hardly listening you shove the rest of the bacon into your mouth and make your way to the sink to scrub your plate and placed it on the drying rack.

"Bye, mama. I'll be back before you know it!" You yelled from the front door way and before you could venture outside she yelled back.

"Pick up some milk and bread before ya get home, would ya?"

"I will, mama."

"Have a safe trip and the cabbage on the table for ya." She slightly limped over and gave both of your cheeks kisses.

Checking the table you hurriedly snatched the money and skipped out the door. Slamming it shut behind you.

Walking down the curvy road that leads into the city. The walk leads you through a small, little wood patch and into a small clearing that slowly shows small businesses and shops. The library is located near the school which is pretty far off from other buildings.

Reaching your destination, the library stairs are long wide, and white cemented staircase with two pillars on each side with the big doors that lead into the actually building. Pushing pass them you nearly run into a little boy, Joseph Bonnefoy.

"Oh, where are in such a rush to?" Smoothing out your dress asked in a slight taunting tone.

"Granny said I could go out for a short break. I'm getting myself a few chocolates as a snack." The words rushed out of his tiny mouth. Hardly catching his breath when he was finished.

"Well aren't you grown now, Joseph. Next thing you'll tell me your getting old enough to get your own house." Jokingly ruffling his hair, he smiled and waved off vanishing from sight once down the incline.

Sauntering into the building you noticed that Claire Bonnefoy wasn't at the front desk where she usually was. Probably in the back.

Making your way down the aisles of books you traveled around for a good five minutes passing books you didn't find interesting or they didn't have good covers. Coming across a couple of good ones you touched 'The Good Solider' reading the summary you decide to give it a try. °°It's set just before World War I and chronicles the tragedy of Edward Ashburnham, the soldier to whom the title refers, and his seemingly perfect marriage plus that of his two American friends.°°

Strolling around the aisle for a bit more you grace yourself with some dark writing. Traipsing on to some dark fiction you grabbed a fairytale book of the 'Grimm work original fairy tales'. Walking back to the front, Mrs. Claire was already their and ready for me. Smiling I greeted her and handed the books over. Smiling she rung them up and complimented the choice for this week.

" How have you been, Mrs. Claire. Not to intrude on your personal life, but is it true that the last person who died lived close to you." You questioned.

"Sadly, yes 'n I've been thinkin' of sendin' little Joseph up state with his aunt 'n uncle in Arkansas for awhile 'til this calms down." Her shaky hand clenched around the book harshly, "Or if they finally catch the bastard whose doin' all of this maybe mah little boy can stay. 'Til then mah old joints can't move like they use tah."

" Lititle Jo 's gonna feel so sad, he really likes New Orleans."

"Yes, I know dear. But, I'd sleep betta at night if he was somewhere safa." She slide the books in a paper bag and handed them over. A melancholy smile on her sweet face. "Been saving up on a train ticket for some time now. Most folk don't come by tah rent out books anymore. So, it took some time 'n hard work tah earn the money."

The killings have did put everyone at alert. Well, most people still hang out past sun fall just to watch the city come to life. Which I won't lie it is gorgeous to witness the night come to life. But, for old bims like Mrs. Claire she's dang plum tire and could use the time to calm her nerves. Maybe I should visit more once Joseph''s left.

"Thank ya, Miss. (Y/n). I'll see ya next week or so."

"The pleasure's all mine and I'll give these books back in no time."

Waving to the old bim you make your way back out the library and on tour way to your next destination.

Making your way back to the house to fetch Issacs's lunch you had to maneuver your way through the crowd of busy people scrambling around to get out of the sweltering heat and catching up with friends.

Your brother works at a boiler repair shop. Fixing cars and getting scraps of cabbage to make up for the bills that weren't paid. He's always been a hard working guy, he's selfless and protective. I still remember when we were kids and father used to hit him, so hard, but came to my defense whenever I was in trouble.

Traveling down the dusty road you made it to the repair shop where two boobs stood out front. One was always silent and the other was a continuous flirt whenever you came around.

As soon as they could hear your shoes hitting pavement the flirt Clay shot up to welcome you.

"How are doing this afternoon, (y/n)." His hand went out to grab your, which you quickly pulled back, "you know that offer still stands that if you wanna get tonight."

"I would, but I'm pretty sure your wife would raise all hell." Walking past him to look further into the garage. "Where is my brother, is he not here?"

Floyd spoke up, which startled you. His voice is pretty deep and gravely for a man only four years older than yourself. Blowing the smoke from his mouth he tapped the ash upon the ground to stare at you.

"He left early to go out with his dame. Told us to tell ya not to worry too much and that he'll be back home later tonight." He stole another drag from the cigarette.

"He could at least gave me heads up before I came all the way out here. What I'm supposed to do with this now." Dangling the bag of food from side to side.

"I'll take it off ya hands for ya." Clay swooning in to steal the bag and retreat back to standing next to Floyd. "Wish my wife could cook like your ma."

Huffing you said your good byes to them both with a very excited 'see ya' from Clay and a small wave from Floyd.

Once far away enough you groaned louder to reduce some irritation of making this heart felt trip. Pulling on your face to stop tears from forming you sighed and kept walking to your next venture.

The scratch mom gave you was enough for bread and milk. But, she also gave you enough to get something special from you little trip. You decided on a cup of coffee at the nearest restaurant with a beignet. It sounds so good right now and with more pep in your step you made it to the store in no time.

The corner store was full of people that day bustling around to grab what they need and storm out. You being the small self you are you tried to cram your way in and failed miserably. You tried this process several times and came out with the same results. Someone bumped into your small frame and sent you falling backwards. Gloved hands snatched you up before you could hit the ground.

You were in a state of shock before being knocked out of your stooper by a young man who you realized pulled you off to the side. With eyes wide you tried to make conversation, but no words would come out the only thing you could look at was his face.

"T-Thanks for helping me." You tried to mustard a smile, but it came out weird.

"You look like you were in quite the pickle their, my dear." Hands still on your waist he motioned with his head down the street. "You know there's a nice restaurant around here that serves the best venison. I think you would just adore it. Could possibly calm your nerves my treat."

Mouth still dry you tried to speak, "I don't want to impose on your lunch regimen." Shaking your head and slowly moving backwards.

"Oh, but I insist my dear I did invite you didn't I." Pulling you closer by the hip, your face heated up more than normal. Now following the man who you didn't even pick up the name you two made your way around the corner and down the street.

Stepping inside the small business you noticed only about six or eight people in here. Nicely decorated with bar stools and five booths along the wall and a bathroom across from the front entrance. But, it did smell really delicious in here maybe it won't be, so bad to have just a bite to eat. He did say he was paying. He lead us to a small booth in the back and waited for me sit down first before taking his seat across from me.

"Why did you bring me here I barely know you, sir?" Playing with your fingers to ease your nerves by making your fingers stretch and squeeze together.

His eyes looked off to the side in deep thought before he shrugged. "You looked interesting, my dear." Reaching over he scratched under your chin and his smiled covered more of his face. "Smile my dear you know your never fully dressed without one."

Making a smile fall upon your lips you smiled back. His eyes slightly narowed and his smirk stretched a bit. Suddenly, a very curvy and thick lady stood in front of our booth.

"Oh, Al are here to hear me sing again tonight. If you are your way too early, hun." She giggled.

"Oh no my dear, Mimzy. I'm here with a new friend of mine. She's going to have seasoned venison." His arm motion towards me and I froze on the spot.

Sticking your hand out for handshake, "HI, my name's (y/n). Nice to meet you."

She stared you up and down before slowly taking your hand and managing a small smile on her face. "You must be a fan, Al here, right. A lot of dumb dora fall head over heels for this man."

I guess she read the confused look on your face and answered for you. "Alastor, the radio man of New Orleans."

"Oh, sorry I guess I didn't notice." Turning your attention to Alastor, "sorry I didn't recognize a popular figure like yourself."

"It's fine dear a lot of people don't recognize the voice with the look." I'm guessing he's talking the creole look. To be honest a lot of people don't sound like the ethnicity on the phone until you see their face. But, I can't really judge I get turned down in person more than on the phone looking for a job.

"Well I'll go tell the servers the usual for you, Al." She looked you over, again. "What will you have?"

"She'll be having the same as me, mim." Alastor strong smile had her face painted in a light pink. She straighten her posture and cleared her throat and told us it it'll come out in no time. Once she gone I asked how long they've known each other.

"Mimzy and I go way back when she was a small singer. Know she travels from time to time to spread that lovely voice of hers." You just took noticed he speaks with hands a lot more than most people. But, you seem to like that.

Smiling back you told him that really amazing. It was you mothers goal before she stated using. He asked you about your occupation.

"Well, I really wanted to be a baker, but no plots are open, too expansive or I'm not the right skin tone for this establishment." Looking up for just a second you could have sworn the smile on his face fell and quickly went back into place.

"Isn't that just dreadful." He focused up at the ceiling for awhile and shot his head down to smirk at me, "How would like to work for me for a fair price a hour?"

"What?"

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #1920s #human alastor #hazbin hotel mimzy #toxic family #foster family #alastor being a jerk #period typical racism #hazbin hotel au

59 notes · View notes

plaidbooks · 4 years

Text

Everyone Deserves Love chapter 4

A/N: He’s here! Now done with the prologue, Barba has finally made it to the story haha. This is a long chapter, but it’s also a lot of exposition since it takes place 3 years after chapter 3. That’s right, this chapter takes place in season 15, right after Cragen retires. Gonna say now that I tried to keep the timeline of the show as close as I could, but I have taken some liberties (for example, Cragen leaving to Lewis dying is apparently 4 months, which is insanely short). Also, yes, Amaro should be on desk duty at this time, but with a threat on Olivia’s life, she’s not gonna be left alone.

Also, now that this story is in the “present” tense, and with both Devon and Barba, the narrative will switch between the two’s pov. It’s mostly Devon’s, but you do get Barba’s insight, as well

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tags: mentions of rape, mentions of trafficking, alcohol/drinking, knives, guns

Words: 12k+

Courthouse

Wednesday, January 26th. 4:36pm

“We find the defendant guilty,” the juror said before taking their seat. The judge thanked the jury for their services and dismissed the court. On the outside, Rafael Barba showed no emotions aside from a small smirk—ever the smug counselor—and simply gathered his papers, put them in his case, and latched it. On the inside, however, he was many things; relieved, happy, and yes, maybe a little smug. Yet a nagging part of his mind was nervous, if not a little afraid; something he wasn’t quite used to feeling, especially after securing a guilty verdict. Sure, he got the conviction on a top-ranking gang member—one Jorge Ramirez--who was just sent to jail for the rest of his mortal life for trafficking, rape, and murder. But Barba knew that this may put a target on his back in retaliation from Ramirez’s gang…not that he hadn’t dealt with some sort of threats in the past. But this time, his instinct was telling him something was off. He pushed the feeling down, grabbed his case while receiving a very nasty glare from Ramirez as he was pulled away, then turned to see Sergeant Benson and all of the other SVU detectives giving him broad grins or congratulations.

“Guilty on all counts. Nice, Rafael,” Liv said with a pat on his shoulder.

“Let’s hope we can round up the rest of his posse,” Barba replied. “Drinks?”

Flanagan’s Bar

Wednesday, January 26th. 5:06pm

They all agreed that a celebration drink was in order—this had been a rough case all around--and made their way from the courthouse to the cop bar down the street. None of the party were particularly heavy drinkers, but Barba knew that he wanted to leave his mind for a little bit tonight; this wasn’t his first hard case that he had dealt with recently. That being said, Fin only stayed for one drink, saying he had other things to do tonight. Rollins had a couple drinks, then bowed out herself. Amaro mentioned something about facetiming his daughter before she went to bed and headed out shortly after, leaving Liv and Barba alone. They moved from the big, party table to the stools at the bar, chatting idly about the case, then about life; the norm when they were alone together. Barba never admitted it aloud, but he loved their friendship; Liv was smart, strong, and, most importantly, put up with his shit. What they had wasn’t romantic by any standard; it was fully platonic, and they both knew it, regardless of what rumors flew about. But they both cared for each other in a way that was…different from anyone else. These types of relationships seemed to flock to Liv, seeing as she had a team that she worked with daily and trusted with her life. But Barba? Well, he had a couple childhood friends that he’d see around town, though after the business with Muñoz, those friends were fewer and farther in between. Then there was his secretary, Carmen, and a few acquaintances at work—none of these people were actual friends he saw outside of work, besides at the occasional suit and tie benefit dinners his office forced him to attend. Sure, he was friendly…sometimes…with them, and with the SVU detectives, but nothing that was substantial outside of Liv.

“You need a ride home tonight, Rafa?” Olivia asked after she finished her glass of wine. Barba took a look at his scotch; it wasn’t low enough to shoot it back quite yet. And he didn’t want to make Liv wait for him.

“Nah, I’ll be fine. I can catch a cab tonight,” he replied with a half-smile. Olivia gave him a look like she knew exactly what he was thinking, feeling. But she decided not to comment on it. She knew he could take care of himself.

“Good night, then. Good win today,” she smiled at him as she stood, putting her jacket on.

“Sleep well,” he replied, returning her smile, before taking a sip of his drink.

Liv grinned. “Oh, I will, knowing that we finally put Ramirez behind bars.” She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, gave him a light squeeze, then headed out into the cold evening. Barba sighed and checked his watch, 9:07pm, later than he thought. He was usually in bed pretty early after a big win, since he normally had to stay up late the previous week preparing. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he couldn’t stop the picture of his quiet loft from flashing across his mind, nor the sudden feeling of loneliness—something that he hasn’t felt in a while. Sure, he has been alone for a long time now, but that never bothered him…much. The truth is, he was usually too busy to really dwell on the fact that his bed, his home, his life, has been empty outside of himself. Plus, the scandal with Alex, Eddy, and Yelina happened only a few, short months ago. And Barba still couldn’t understand how Alex could be doing things like…that…when he got to come home to Yelina at night. YELINA. She was smart, attractive, strong…. Oh, the alcohol was definitely affecting his mood. He’d finish this drink, then head home, end this self-pity spree.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” a soft voice asked to his left.

Barba jumped; sucked into his thoughts, he didn’t hear anyone approaching him. “N-no, uh, help yourself,” he replied, turning his head slightly, but not really looking at the person. He heard the stool pull out and the person—a woman, he realized—sat down next to him.

“Whiskey and coke, please,” she ordered. The bartender nodded and went off to make her drink. There was silence, but Barba could feel her gaze on him. His heart was still racing from her surprise appearance, but now he felt his face heating slightly from her stare. “My name’s Devon, by the way.”

“Rafael.” This time, he turned and gave her a somewhat forced smile. He felt his face turn fully red as he looked her up and down, too dumbstruck to even try and hide it. Devon was, well, beautiful. She had long, brown hair cascading down her back in waves, a plain, black v-neck that hugged her curves, navy jeans, and a heavy black trench coat that she had opened once inside the heat of the bar. The simplicity of her outfit did nothing to diminish her natural beauty, and Barba didn’t really care that he was caught staring. She smiled back at him playfully, knowing full well that she had him on the ropes. Now, Barba knew that the alcohol was definitely guiding his thoughts. Maybe his bed wouldn’t be so lonely with her in it. He squashed down the thought as quickly as it appeared; he was not that type of guy. He did not just pick up random women in a bar. No more scotch for a while.

“You alright there, Rafael?” she asked slowly, letting his name dance across her tongue. His attention snapped back to the bar; at some point, the bartender had given her her drink, and he realized that he had been staring at her, mouth slightly open.

“Yeah, sorry. Just had a long day at work,” he replied, taking a sip from his drink. It was low enough now that he could easily pound it and leave if things got any more awkward. He was heavily debating it, debating just getting the hell out of there before either of them made a move.

She nodded, taking a long pull off of her drink, killing half of it in one sip. She swallowed hard, then said, “I know all about long days.” She sat for a second, eyes unfocused, staring at something only she could see. She shook herself, smiling a bit at whatever thought she had before focusing her brown eyes back on his green ones. “Did you want to talk about it?”

Barba thought for what seemed like a long time, at least to him. On one hand, it would be nice to unload some stress onto a stranger. But on the other hand, he was a pretty private man; he didn’t like discussing cases or work with others, especially such a nasty one. Ramirez was one of the worst he’d seen and…wait a minute. It hit him then and he gave the woman a sideways glance; who was this woman? Why did she suddenly appear when he was alone, drinking, and asking him personal questions? Did…did she possibly work for Ramirez? Was she here to threaten him, hurt him…kill him?

Barba pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at the blank screen. “Actually,” he started, slamming his drink, “I just got a call I have to take. It was nice meeting you.” He reached into his wallet, grabbed more than enough for his drinks, and dropped the money onto the counter. He didn’t carry any weapons, and he wasn’t much of a fighter. So, he kept his phone in his hand as he gathered his things. He had Liv’s number pulled up so that he could call her if anything happened; it was the only plan he could think of. He gave Devon—if that was her real name—a tight smile before turning and rushing to the door. Just find a cab, just find a cab, he thought. He figured that if there wasn’t one right outside the bar, then he only had to make it the two blocks to the courthouse to find one. There were always taxis on the main roads, and he was hoping that he could outrun the woman, even in his expensive court suit and dress shoes.

He made it outside and took a deep breath. The cold air stung his lungs, but he was used to New York’s frigid nights; it brought his mind back, sobering him up. There were no taxis in sight, so he quickly started to make his way to the main road. He thought he heard footsteps behind him, but he waved it off as being paranoid; no one was after him, surely. This was all an illusion, brought on by stress and adrenaline. But as he passed a dimly lit alley, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He was spun around, then felt a hard hit to his cheek. It all happened so fast, he didn’t even catch a glimpse of who hit him, let alone know what hit him. He stumbled backwards towards the alley, dropping his case and his phone. Pure fear rushed through him, and he threw up his arms in a defensive position.

Flanagan’s Bar

Wednesday, January 26th. 9:45pm

Devon waited to make sure that she was right. She watched the man—Rafael—make his hasty exit, then looked over at the two men who were sitting a little way away from her. Just as she thought, they got up, and started to follow Rafael out. She let out a sigh.

As soon as she had come into the bar, she noticed the tension in the room. Those two men, both Hispanic and wearing similar outfits, had been watching Rafael with such disdain that she knew they were there for him. By the look of the two, they were probably apart of the same gang. And by the look of the suit and the scotch that the man at the bar was drinking, he probably worked for the government. Seeing as this was a notorious cop bar, and that two gang members decided to actually stake someone out in it, Devon put her money on police commissioner, or lawyer. Of course, this happens the first night out after a three-year stint in undercover. And of course, there were no cops in sight. In a fucking cop bar. She just wanted to decompress, have a drink and just relax; she may have been back for a week, but she was just finally feeling up for hitting the town again. Though, she did enjoy the short conversation she had with the flustered, yet handsome, man at the bar. If the circumstances were just a little different, a little simpler, maybe they could have helped each other relax. Oh well. Still a chance for that, Devon thought, ignoring the fact that he seemed to freak out, citing a fake phone call to leave abruptly.

She waited for the two men to stand and head towards the door before she, too, stood, pulling out some crumpled bills and paid for her half-drunk drink. By the time she left the bar, the two men were hot on Rafael’s heels, though he didn’t seem to notice—there was a thin layer of snow on the ground that muffled their footsteps slightly. She realized that there was no time to warn him, so she took off after them instead, careful to not slip on the icy ground, silently thankful that she wore her snow boots. She opened her mouth to yell a warning anyways but was too late; the taller of the men grabbed Rafael by the shoulder, turned him, and punched him in the face. Rafael stumbled to the side, into a dark alley, dropping his attaché and phone as he struggled to stay on his feet.

What is this, a tv show? Devon thought. The two men had followed him into the alley by the time Devon caught up with them. Rafael had his arms up in a mock defense position—in reality, he wouldn’t stop a toddler from punching him--and the two men were descending upon him quickly.

“Hey, mind if I join in?” Devon called in a loud voice. Look at me, she practically screamed. The two men whipped around; the one who had not hit Rafael had a pocketknife gripped in his hand. Seeing as he had a weapon, and was closest to Devon, she set her attention on him. He lunged sloppily towards her with the knife—has this guy even held a knife before?—which she easily blocked. She grabbed his wrist and slammed it against one of the brick alley walls, forcing him to drop the knife. She then brought her knee up into his chest, knocking the wind out of him. Using his forward momentum, she punched him in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. He fell onto his back, gasping for air. The other man looked to his prone buddy at his feet, then back to Devon, but it was too late; he had left himself open by hesitating. She kicked him in his ribs, sending him into a wall. Then she grabbed his head and slammed it into the wall, not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that he wasn’t getting back up.

Rafael stood in disbelief, mouth hanging open, dropping his arms to his sides, and looked at the bodies around him, then at Devon. “You alright?” she asked, pulling her coat tightly around her in the cold.

“Y-yeah,” he replied. “Just…just a long day.”

Devon chuckled, then led him out of the alleyway and over to his fallen attaché and phone. She picked them up and handed them to him. “I’m serious, though. Do you need me to take you to the hospital? Or call someone for you?” She grabbed his chin, examining his cheek in the light of the streetlamp.

“No, no, I’m fine.” He pulled out of her grip, cheeks red not entirely from the cold, and looked back to the alley. He ignored the jolt of electricity he felt from the soft touch of her skin. “Should we call an ambulance for them, though? You went a little hard on them.”

“Hard on them? They attacked you, screw them,” she replied, then saw the alarm in his eyes. Right, most people would call for help, even if they attacked him first. “Oh, they’ll be fine. If anything, I should call the cops and have them arrested.” When Rafael didn’t respond, she asked, “why were those guys after you, anyways?”

Devon could see him thinking through his answer carefully. “I think it may be work related,” he finally said.

She didn’t push it; she doubted he’d elaborate anyways. “At least let me walk you to somewhere safer than here.” Rafael didn’t want to voice his objections from the bar, especially after the display in the alley, and so they made their way to the main street, Devon walking a little too close to him. To protect him, she told herself, ignoring the side of her that remarked how attractive this man was. Her heart was still beating fast, though from the fight or from examining his face in the light, she wasn’t sure. She thought about giving him her card with her number on it…for protection…but realized she hadn’t restocked her pockets with them since coming back to New York. Oh well…. Once on the main street, Rafael hailed a cab, and Devon didn’t leave until he had gotten in, thanked her awkwardly, and then disappeared down the street. God, I missed this city, Devon thought. Wish I got in that cab with him, though. Now alone, she headed back to that alley to see if she couldn’t get some answers from the two hitmen. Though, by the time she made it back to the alley, the men were gone, the only sign of them was their footprints all over each other in their scramble to run.

Apartment of Rafael Barba

Wednesday, January 26th. 10:37pm

“I’m telling you, they were working for Ramirez. Probably some low-level Aces,” Barba said into his phone. He made it into his loft, had locked the door, and instantly called Olivia. Even though he couldn’t see her, he knew the expression Liv had; worry, concern, and yet hard determination, her Sergeant side taking over.

“I’ll put an unmarked on your block tonight. We may be stretched a little thin here, but I can give you Amaro or Rollins tomorrow morning, then have them switch shifts at lunch,” Liv replied.

“I’ll take the car tonight, though I doubt they will strike again so soon. And I should be safe at the office and courthouse; too many witnesses.” Barba moved to his freezer, taking an ice pack out. His cheek was killing him, and he winced when he put the cold plastic on it. He slowly made his way to the hallway bathroom to examine himself. I can’t believe I got sucker punched….

“I can have a detective escort you to and from work, keep the uni’s there at night.”

Liv always had an answer for everything. But Barba was never a man to live in fear; he figured that he could simply carry pepper spray or a stun gun and be fine. Now that he knew the Aces were after him, he wouldn’t get jumped again. Plus, Olivia was going to have every precinct after this gang; they’d be rounded up in no time. “I’ll be fine, Liv.”

He could hear her winding up for an argument, one he was determined not to lose. Perhaps sensing this, Liv blew out a long breath. “I’ll have Amaro there, first thing in the morning. Please, for my sake, take the ride.”

Barba sighed. “Fine, but I don’t need a babysitter while at work.” She reluctantly agreed—he had a point about too many witnesses--then said her goodbyes before hanging up. Barba looked into the mirror in his bathroom, gently fingering the bruised skin under his right eye. There was no covering it—he didn’t know how anyways—so that would be some awkward conversations tomorrow. Hopefully he could glare hard enough that no one would ask. He put the icepack back on the spot, wincing again at the pain. He had no idea how he was going to sleep tonight. Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, especially after recounting the event to Liv. He also wished that he had thanked Devon more—she may not have realized it, but she most likely just saved his life. But one question kept coming back, swimming through the thoughts racing through his mind: who was that woman?

Apartment of Devon Motely

Thursday, January 27th. 7:08am

Devon woke up after a much-needed deep sleep, one she hadn’t had for years. There was nothing quite like sleeping in your own bed to make you feel refreshed. She had been out-of-state for three years, in the life of a made-up woman, in a house that was not hers, talking to people she didn’t know. And while the FBI had people come in a day before she was home, to clean all the dust off the furniture and wash the sheets, it was still weird to be somewhere “new.” There was a peacefulness she gained from being in her home—not just an apartment, but home—but it was still a little jarring coming back to reality. Not to mention the three-hour time difference between here in New York, and where she had been in California. Her sleep schedule in California wasn’t normal, but it made NYC seem a little better; waking up at 7am meant she was a go-getter…just ignore the fact that a week ago, that was 4am. She has spent the whole week home attempting to stay awake later, but it wasn’t happening; she slept when it was dark out, and with the city’s tall buildings, nighttime was earlier than that of the sunny West Coast.

Devon had already spent a couple months with the Fed’s shrink, both in the California branch and her home doctor, and was cleared to work. But her boss knew better, giving her three more months to decompress and return to normal. Not that she was complaining; she had never been undercover for that long before, and it took a bigger toll on her than she thought it would. The hardest part about getting back to normal was picking up her gym routine again; the first day was hell. She wasn’t out-of-shape, but she was definitely out of gym shape. And at first, she was happy when the first day was over, the burn a reminder of where she could grow. That happiness disappeared on the second day of gym. After this week, though, Devon was glad to find her body getting back into the motion of things.

After a long shower, she made her way to her closet. Even after a week of being back, she was still excited to put on some of her own clothes again; her last alias had a decent sense of style but was definitely not her. The college student’s style was oversized hoodies, too-tight shirts, and skinny jeans, while the Madam’s style was skimpy dresses and heavy makeup. Devon’s style, however, was practical; you never know when you may have to kick some ass—as evident with the events from the night before--or deal with a hostage situation. She almost always wore loose-fitting jeans, strong but mobile, and plain, scoop-neck shirts that fit perfectly; low enough to show a hint of cleavage--if only she had a dollar for every perp that hesitated from such a small distraction as a hint of skin--but comfortable enough to run, jump, climb, or whatever else her job required of her. She knew that she fit society’s standards of beauty, but as long as that was true, then it was a weapon she could use to her advantage.

While happy for her own home and clothes, nothing made her more excited than having her personal phone back. She couldn’t risk taking it with her last case—she was given a cell phone for her cover--so she had left it behind. But when she had come back from her trip, she found that couldn’t turn it back on. After a day of fidgeting with it, she had no other choice than to ask for help. Because it had sensitive information on it, she could only ask the FBI techs to fix it for her, something that was not high on the list of priorities for them. She only picked it up last night, after the bar fight—alley fight?—and was too tired to bother with it. Now, she held the power button, smiling as the screen turned on. It wasn’t like she was expecting much in terms of texts or calls; she only had a couple friends, friends who had known she was going undercover, but she wanted to meet up with them immediately to catch up, maybe even warn them about the man who was jumped last night. Even though her boss, Assistant Director Thomas Jenkins, gave her time off, she knew that 1) her boredom would quickly take over and 2) she’d get dragged into something anyways. She always did, especially with her friends being SVU detectives.

Her phone finally loaded, and she noticed that she had two unread texts. Curious, she clicked on them. They were both from the same person; Detective Olivia Benson. She opened them, read them, then sat for a moment, trying to figure out her emotions.

Happy Birthday! sent January 1, 2011 12:00am

I know you’re undercover and won’t see this until much later, but I wish you were here right now. I really need to talk to you. Elliot is gone. sent August 26, 2011 3:08am

The first text pulled on Devon’s heartstrings; she had forgotten how a simple birthday message could make her feel cared about—it was a rare enough occurrence. But that second message made her feel such a heavy amount of confusion, guilt, and sadness. She wasn’t here for her best friend when she needed her most, whether undercover or not. If she had known, she would have called instantly. And what did she mean Elliot is gone? Did he retire? Did he finally transfer out of SVU? Or was it worse; was he killed on the job? Devon clicked the dial button, determined to talk to Liv.

The phone only rang once. “Dev? Is that really you?” was Olivia’s greeting, her voice surprised and hopeful.

“Hey Olivia. Yeah, it’s me. I’m back in town. Can we meet up?” Devon thought it better to talk in person about this, seeing as the text was from over two years ago, barely a year into her UC case.

“Of course. Why don’t you come down to the precinct?”

“I’ll be there in 10,” Devon replied. She hung up and looked around her room. She had a grip that she tended to keep stocked with clothes and essentials, just in case. After waffling about it, she decided to take it with her—if Stabler really was killed, she’d make sure the bastard paid, if Liv hadn’t beaten her to it. She had packed it the day after arriving home, so it was ready to go except for one thing. She grabbed her work laptop and charger, and threw them in the grip before zipping it closed. Last but not least, she grabbed her badge, gun, and her throwing knife that she strapped to the outside of her left thigh—ol’ reliable, as she liked to call it.

SVU Department

Thursday, January 27th. 9:30am

As predicted, it took Devon 9 minutes to get to the 16th precinct, and another minute to make it to SVU. The officers gave her alarmed looks when they saw her with her bulging grip thrown over her shoulder. She flashed her badge but was still shocked when no one attempted to apprehend her; she didn’t recognize any of the officers, but maybe Olivia gave them a head’s up. She took a breath once in the SVU precinct, her shoulders relaxing—a second home when she was in New York. She looked to Liv’s desk, but noticed a man with dark hair sitting there. Noticing her stare, he looked up.

“May I help you?” he asked. Instead of answering, Devon looked at the desk that should’ve been Stabler’s, but saw that it was empty, leaving a heaviness in the pit of her stomach. Now feeling unsettled, she looked to Munch’s desk but saw a blonde woman giving Devon an equally confused look. She vaguely noticed the man reaching for his gun.

“Holy shit, Devon?” a familiar voice said. Devon turned to see Fin coming from the coffeemaker, cup in hand.

Devon felt the tension melt away. “Wow, Fin. I leave for three years and you guys change the whole force?”

He pulled her in for an awkward, half-hug, shocking the other detectives, and said, “it is good to see you, Dev. I thought we may have lost another one.”

By this time, the not-Stabler and not-Munch came over. “Uh, I’m Detective Nick Amaro, and this is Detective Amanda Rollins,” the man said, extending his hand.

Devon shook both of their hands. “I’m Senior Special Agent Devon Motely,”—she saw Fin’s eyebrows raise at the new title—"and as fun as it is to catch up and meet new people, I’m actually here to see Detective Benson.”

“You mean Sergeant Benson,” Fin corrected.

“Sergeant? Now this I gotta see,” Devon said, smiling broadly.

As if on cue, Olivia Benson came out of the captain’s office. “Devon Motely. It is so good to see you.”

Devon pulled away from the other detectives and made her way to Olivia. She gave her a big hug, saying “it’s good to see you, too. Can we talk in private?” Devon could still feel the other detective’s gazes on her back, hear their murmuring.

“Of course,” Liv said. But instead of going to one of the interrogation rooms, as per usual, she led Devon into the office. Devon saw that the décor had changed since the last time she was there, but the biggest change was that the plaque on the desk didn’t say Captain Cragen, but instead read Sgt. Olivia Benson.

“Cragen is gone, too? This is your office?” Devon blurted out. Olivia closed the door behind her, then went to sit behind the desk, motioning Devon to sit across from her.

“Cragen is gone,” she confirmed. “And Munch, and Elliot, too.” She then spent the next hour detailing everything that had happened to the three officers. Devon was relieved to hear that all were still alive, just retired. Again, she felt a pang of guilt and wished that she was there to help them through all the craziness that Olivia outlined. Though she was an FBI agent, Devon had a soft spot for the SVU team; she helped them whenever she could with things that were too…much for the four detectives and captain. Then, Liv started on what she had been going through, recounting her troubles with William Lewis, her relationship with detective Cassidy, their bad luck with ADA’s—“though, we have a good one, now. Hopefully he stays on”—and ended on a short, but informative, description of both of the new detectives.

Devon listened intently, and once she was done talking, she sat in silence for a moment, taking everything in. Her guilt was mounting new heights; while she was fucking around in California, her best friend was going through some of the worst experiences of her life. Then, she asked in a low voice, “do you want me to deal with Lewis?”

Olivia caught her meaning, shaking her head. “No, no, it’s fine. He’s not an issue anymore; he’ll be in jail for life.”

Devon nodded. “That just makes it easier to get rid of him. If you ever want me to, I want to be your first call.”

Ignoring what Devon just implied, Liv changed the subject. “So, tell me about your adventures in San Francisco.” Devon’s demeanor changed from plotting murder to one of exhaustion. She let out a sigh, then recounted her three-year UC case in California. She had been posing as a college student by day, and a Madam at night. She worked her way through parties meeting girls, then pimps, then finally, the pimp’s bosses. She felt terrible about the things she had to do; selling girls, drugs, and much worse. She was happy to be back here, where she didn’t have to fake having an interest in those types of things, where she could just arrest the bastards instead of joining them.

“So, when I turned on my phone today, I saw your text. I know that it was from a while ago, and that you are probably over it by now, but I thought I’d still check in on you,” Devon concluded. In her retelling of the last three years, she had completely forgotten about the attractive man in a suit at the bar the night before.

A wave of emotions flashed through Olivia’s eyes, though she kept her face mostly neutral. “You know, I felt terrible about sending that text to you. I knew you didn’t have your phone, and in a moment of—of emotional weakness, I sent it. And it’s not fair to you that I did that. But at the time, I thought that maybe, just maybe, you were able to see it and talk to me, to help me through that time. To let me vent and talk, even if you couldn’t reply, but just to have someone listen.” Olivia had tears in her eyes, which she quickly blinked away. “I also meant to text you again, but any time I opened our conversation, I would see that last message I sent. And I’d feel the guilt all over again.”

Feeling emotional herself, Devon replied, “I’m not mad or upset; I get it Liv, I really do.” Devon put her hands on the desk, palms up. Olivia placed her hands gently into Devon’s, and the agent started rubbing comforting circles into the back of Liv’s hands with her thumbs. “And I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be there for you when you needed me most. It must have been so, so hard for you to lose Stabler after so long. Do you keep in touch with him at all?”

Liv shook her head. “No, no. In the beginning, I thought about it. At night, when I couldn’t sleep, or when a nightmare would rip me awake before dawn. But I knew that it was for the best, for both of us, to just…cut all ties to him.”

Devon let the silence drag on for a little, continuing to rub little circles in the Sergeant’s skin, letting the conversation rest. “Well, I’m back for the foreseeable future. And I got promoted. And my boss even gave me three months off, if you can believe that!” she let out a laugh, trying to break the tension. They released each other’s hands, the moment over. “Plus, look at you! A Sergeant, and in the big boss’s office, no less.”

Liv smiled and opened her mouth to answer, when her phone lit up, vibrating on her desk. “Benson,” she answered, holding up a finger to Devon. Devon waited patiently while whoever was on the other line talked her ear off. “What? When?” Liv waited a second, “okay, I’ll be right there. I think I have someone that you should meet,” her eyes locked with Devon’s, “just stay there.” With that, she hung up, rubbed her temples for a moment, then got up and grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair.

Devon stood up quickly. “What happened? Everything okay?”

“Uh, about that time off that your boss gave you—”

Devon cut her off, “what do you need me for?” Devon was nothing if not loyal.

Olivia smirked. “How about a 24/7 protection detail, overseeing a sarcastic, pain-in-the-ass that we lovingly call our ADA?”

Devon had a rush of thoughts in the matter of seconds—spending 24/7 with someone she didn’t know, on alert at all waking hours, her exhaustion since just getting home, plus Olivia’s description of the victim—but she still said, “whatever you need.” She was glad to help Liv, especially to make up for the past three years, whether Liv thought Devon needed to make up for lost time or not. And with the sudden rush of adrenaline, she could feel her exhaustion ebbing away. Plus, what else were friends for?

“Thank you so much. Come on, I’ll explain everything on the way.”

Courthouse

Thursday, January 27th. 11:16am

As Olivia, Devon, and Detective Amaro, who was grabbed on the way out, pulled up to the courthouse, Devon summarized the conversation of the car ride. “So, let me get this straight; you and Rollins took down a gang leader, with this ADA Barba, pushing him into jail for life, and now the gang has a target on all of your backs? No offense, but why not just let me take down the gang instead of posting me up with an attorney?” She grabbed her grip out of the trunk and followed Liv and Amaro to the stairs.

Liv scoffed. “Because Barba was attacked in a crowded courthouse, with unis posted at every door, and yet someone was able to sneak in, armed with a pistol, and take aim at our ADA.” Liv saw that Devon was gearing up to argue more, but she cut her off, “look, we’re all covered at SVU; we already have leads on some of the big hitters in the Aces. And it would really help if I had someone that I could trust watching Barba so that I, or any of the other detectives, don’t have to.” She had a point, so Devon kept her mouth shut. Olivia wasn’t one to suggest things of importance without a reason.

They made their way up the stairs, past the cops that were mulling around, talking about whatever they were talking about, and into the courthouse. The crime scene wasn’t hard to find; it was roped off with caution tape and there were cops everywhere. Devon looked at the wall next to where they were congregating and saw two bullet holes in the concrete. She noticed a couple things at once; no blood, no EMTs, no CSU, which all adds up to no victim. Good, the perp missed his target—no doubt this ADA Barba that Liv was having Devon watch. Devon knew that he was alive—Olivia wouldn’t have brought her to watch him if he wasn’t here—but no one else was injured, either.

“What happened here?” Amaro asked an officer. He gave him a rundown of the facts; a young, white man walked towards Barba while he was on his way to court. He reached into his pocket; unis saw him as he raised the gun. One cop yelled a warning, tackling Barba out of the way, while the other cop on the door took down the man. He got two shots off but missed his mark, striking the wall. The cops arrested him and escorted Barba to his office down the street to await Liv’s arrival after he was cleared from EMTs; no injuries besides a bruised ego.

Gaining all the information they needed, Devon followed the sergeant and detective out, then down the street to 1 Hogan Place. Once inside the DA’s building, they made their way to the elevator. As the doors closed, Devon asked Liv, “hey, are you and Rollins safe? Are you sure there’s not a hit out on you, too?”

“Neither of us have been alone since Barba was attacked earlier. We’re not taking any chances on this one. This is why I need someone I can trust watching Barba; I can’t spare any manpower on it, and god knows we don’t need the Feds tied up in this.” Well, that explained Amaro hovering over Liv’s shoulder, like a bodyguard.

Devon sighed, “yeah, I hear you. But I want to be kept in the loop; names, faces, tattoos, anything and everything. I want to be able to pick out one of these jerks before they have a shot at Barba.”

“Of course,” Liv replied. The elevator doors opened, and they briskly walked to Barba’s office. There were four cops posted outside the door, which was shut. Liv nodded first to the frazzled-looking paralegal seated at her desk, then to the officers, and they moved to allow the three of them in.

“Barba, are you alright?” Liv asked when she saw him, pacing in front of his desk restlessly.

“I’m fine. But I want that bastard arraigned today, and then I have a case that I’m late for already, but these idiots aren’t letting me leave. I need to—” Barba’s outburst was cut short when he saw Devon, who also froze.

Following his line of sight, Liv said, “right, ADA Rafael Barba, this is Senior Special Agent Devon Motely. Devon, this is Barba.”

Barba swallowed past the lump in his throat, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, we’ve met before,” he said, eyes never leaving Devon’s.

It was Amaro’s turn to speak. He grinned in disbelief, “what? When?”

“Last night. In a dingy bar and then again in a dark alley,” Devon answered, making Amaro’s eyebrows raise. If she wasn’t still in such shock, she would’ve shot him a glare.

Liv’s eyes widened. “You’re the one that stopped those men from assaulting Barba? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“One, I didn’t know that was the ‘earlier attack’ you mentioned until just now. And two, he introduced himself as Rafael. I didn’t know his last name or his profession,” Devon explained, before muttering, “glad to see I was already doing this job before I knew it.”

Barba took this time to mentally collect himself, finally ripping his eyes away from the agent and furrowing his brow at Olivia. “Job, what job?”

Liv looked back to him. “Look Barba, I know that last night, you denied having protection. But after this, you need to have someone watching your back.”

“No, I don’t need a babysitter watching me, especially FBI. Why are the Feds even getting involved—”

“Barba look around! You were almost shot outside of a courtroom. You got lucky that he missed. You are going to have protection until this is over,” Olivia ordered.

Barba scoffed. “Over? Do you think that this is just going to go away in a day or two? That if you arrest one or two of these bastards that they’ll back off? I’m not living in fear, Olivia.”

“I know, I know,” Liv adopted her calm, quiet voice that she used with victims, “but I’m not letting you get killed over this. Devon is good; she’s willing to stay for the long haul.”

“Can you not talk about me like I’m not here, please?” Devon piped in. Barba rolled his eyes and plopped down behind his desk, running his hands through his hair roughly, while Liv huffed out a heavy sigh and Amaro stood to the side awkwardly, watching this all play out. “Look, I may just be the ‘babysitter,’ but I’m not working as FBI for this. This is a favor for Liv. Besides, I’ve done this before. Barba, you have nothing to worry about; I’ll be a shadow. You don’t need to talk to me, you don’t need to look at me, you don’t even need to acknowledge that I’m there. I’ll just be your bodyguard.”

“I. Don’t. Need. A bodyguard,” he said through gritted teeth. He slammed his hands down on his desk in frustration, exhaling through flared nostrils.

Liv and Devon exchanged a look. Liv nodded. Perfect, play hardball, Devon’s favorite.

“Fine, I’ll say this in terms you will understand, counselor. As Sergeant Benson said, I am good; you saw that last night. So, whether you like it or not, you will be under my protection until Sergeant Benson says otherwise. You may try, but you will not be able to lose me. I’m going to stay on you, make sure you are protected from all attacks, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” Barba opened his mouth, but Devon pressed on, “now, you can make this easier on yourself. Allow me to do my job, allow me to help you, and I will be as I said before, a shadow. Or fight me on this, and I’ll be the biggest thorn in your side. It’s up to you, Mr. Barba.”

Barba gave an impressive glare, aimed at Liv before turning those bright green eyes onto Devon. He seemed to be working through his thoughts, debating on if this fight was worth it. Apparently, it wasn’t, because he huffed angrily and spat out, “fine. But as soon as this is over, I better never see you again.”

“Deal,” Devon said, smirking.

Liv grinned, looking slightly amused, glancing at the both of them. “Well, I’m glad that’s taken care of. Keep me updated.” Still sporting matching smirks, Amaro and Olivia turned to leave, the latter shooting Devon an apologetic smile. Thanks, Liv, she thought ruefully, wondering if she bit off more than she could chew this time.

Once alone, Devon looked at Barba, who had his head in his hands. “Would you like me to sit across from you, or against the wall behind you?”

Barba didn’t even look up from his desk that he was currently staring a hole through. “I thought I didn’t have to talk to you?”

“And I thought you had a court appointment?” She shot back, shrugging out of her jacket easily, tossing it to the couch, making herself at home.

Barba looked up then. He looked at Devon, really looked, as if he hadn’t seen her yet. She was just as beautiful as she was last night; she was tall, fit, well dressed. In the light of day, he could see the corded muscle in her arms and neck. But her image was tainted in his mind now; he didn’t want someone having to watch his back, even if it was a logical move, something he wouldn’t admit. He knew that Liv had his best interests in mind, and he did feel slightly safer having an FBI agent assigned to him, not that he would admit it out loud. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that this woman had somehow betrayed him. Even if she had saved him the night before, these attacks didn’t happen until she showed up into his life. Which wasn’t fair to her—it was because of the Aces and Ramirez, Barba knew—but he couldn’t separate the events in his mind.

“I got a text from the judge during your…speech. It got pushed to tomorrow, 9am.”

Devon thought for a moment before asking, “do you have any more court appearances today? Or any meetings?”

“No. I plan on being here in my office the rest of the day, prepping the four cases I now have tomorrow.” With that, Barba pulled out some paperwork and a couple of law books. Taking the hint that the conversation was over, Devon pulled one of the chairs from in front of his desk and pushed it to the side of his desk, enough space between it and the desk that she’d be directly in Barba’s blind spot. Before sitting, however, she walked over to the windows and pulled down the blinds, making the office a bit darker, but making it so no one could look in—even though they weren’t on the ground level, Devon didn’t want any unwanted attention from surrounding buildings. She looked at the closed door, seeing that the unis from earlier were still posted outside; four of them, two on each side. She wondered how long they’d stay before they made excuses to leave. Satisfied, she walked back to the chair she had moved and took a seat.

Devon looked sideways at Barba, trying to figure him out; he seemed like just a normal dude last night, albeit a little awkward, flustered even. A normal dude in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, though, she wasn’t so sure. He had an explosive anger—though that was a pretty normal reaction that people had when they had a bodyguard forced onto them, let alone a couple attempts on their life—but going by the fight, or lack thereof, he was all bark and no bite. But she couldn’t be sure of that, either. She had met previous ADAs that worked with SVU. And while Devon wouldn’t exactly call them fighters in the physical sense, they did know their way around a courtroom. And if Olivia liked him, then she was sure that Barba probably wasn’t that bad of a guy…and he also probably knew how to win convictions as well.

Devon then wondered how she had gotten here. Two weeks ago, she was in California; she was working as a madam, working her way through the ranks up a huge sex trafficking ring. Two weeks ago, she was pinning down a high-ranking trafficker, one in charge of bringing in all the girls for eight different brothels. Two weeks ago, the madam was arrested, as was almost everyone involved in the trafficking and brothels, and Devon was snuck out of the state.

Last week, she was in therapy, spilling everything that had happened, and her feelings on the matter, to a therapist, who actually deemed her as “mentally sound” after only four days. And then, she was back in New York. She had done her normal prep after getting home; she had a debrief with her boss, a check in with the shrink here, she unpacked and repacked her two-week grip, she dismantled, cleaned, and reassembled her guns—her normal glock and her drop gun--and she sharpened her knives. She went to get a drink, something that was denied to her for over three years, and something that she needed so that she could simply relax for the first time since she left. Then that man, sitting right in front of her, was at the bar. He was trouble; she knew from the moment she walked in and saw those two men—Aces—targeting him. But just how much trouble, she had no idea. She got into a fight, if you can call it that, and then heard how her best friend’s entire life had basically completely changed. And now, she was ripped out of her life before it even got a chance to be normal again.

“If you have a question, just ask, instead of staring at me the whole time you’re here,” Barba said dryly.

Devon started; she didn’t even notice she was staring. She cleared her throat. “I do have a question, actually.” Barba stopped scribbling, putting his pen down and looked at her, mildly annoyed. “Has your home been compromised?”

He sighed, picking his pen back up and looking at the notepad once more, clearly not taking her seriously. “Not as far as I’m aware.”

“Okay, that’s good. Even so, we should think about it as if it has been. There’re three options; one, we stay at your place with some extra precautions. Two, I set up a third-party place, like a hotel; don’t worry about cost, I’ll cover it. Or three, we stay at my place.” Barba raised an eyebrow. “Keep your mind out of the gutter; I have a guest room and two bathrooms. I also have extra security on my doors and windows that I had installed.”

“I’d rather stay in my own home, thank you,” he replied, not catching the fact that she had said ‘we.’ He continued writing, clearly done with the conversation. Smiling to herself, Devon pulled her laptop out of her grip and opened it. This ADA was headstrong, like most ADAs assigned to SVU, but she already liked him for some reason. She wasn’t sure why quite yet, but she learned to trust the instinct. Once connected to the internet, she got started on her own work.

Office of Rafael Barba

1 Hogan Place

Thursday, January 27th. 9:15pm

By the time Barba had finished for the night, well, as much as he was going to do, it was dark outside. He looked at the clock, sighing at the late time; he always tried to be out of the office by 7 at the latest, but time had gotten away from him, especially since his mind was rattled. It was harder to focus on the cases after everything that had happened the past two days, plus the extra day he was granted for the case that was pushed just made him more stressed. He sighed again, feeling the pressure that tomorrow would be. Then, he cleared his desk, pushing papers into his briefcase in an order that only he understood. He stood and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. He heard the sound of a laptop closing and jumped, startled.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Devon said, placing her laptop in her bag and zipping it up. How did he forget that she was there?

“Sorry, I forgot you were checking Facebook all day,” he replied, rolling his eyes, trying to slow his racing heart. It was only a laptop closing. Get a grip on yourself, he thought, chiding himself. Devon slung her grip over her shoulder but said nothing, a small smile on her lips. Barba put on his jacket and walked to the door. Devon was there instantly; she gently put her hand on his stomach and nudged him away from the door. Barba rolled his eyes again, annoyed at the theatrics, as she opened the door, checking every direction for anything out of the ordinary. The unis that were posted had long since left, as had Carmen; the building was empty, silent. Devon had her gun drawn and motioned for Barba to follow her.

“Is this all necessary?” he asked sardonically. Even with his tone, however, he stuck close to her.

“Honestly? Probably not, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful,” she replied. They made their way quickly through the DA’s building, Devon checking every corner and hallway, Barba thinking it ridiculous, over-the-top. “Did you drive here, by the way? Or should I order a rideshare?”

“I was dropped off by Detective Amaro this morning,” Barba said. “Seems Olivia doesn’t want me to be alone since last night.”

“I’d ask why Amaro didn’t stay with you, but if your outburst from earlier is any indication, I think I know the answer.”

Barba bristled, but said nothing. They both made it in and out of the elevator, then to the double doors leading outside. Devon stopped him, opened the door a smidge, and examined outside. After a moment, she opened the door wider, slipping out, but still motioning for Barba to stay put. Huffing, he opened the other door and walked out into the brisk night air, making his way to the street.

“Fucking really?” Devon asked, hurrying to catch up to him. There were no immediate dangers around, just a few stragglers walking down the darken streets, so Devon pointed her gun to the ground, more discreet this way.

“Come on Motely, you’ve seen how unorganized the Aces’ have been in their attempts on my life. I highly doubt there would be one waiting outside the DA’s building, especially this late. Probably got too bored waiting for me to come out.”

Devon made it to the curb, hailing a cab, thinking it safer and faster than waiting for a rideshare. As one pulled over to admit them, she said, “they’ve failed twice now, attacking you while you were at a bar and while you were in the courthouse. Honestly, they may be getting angrier or worse, desperate. So yes, I will expect them outside your place of work, along with at your home, the grocery store you shop at, and any other place you may frequent, no matter what time it is.” They both got in, Devon forcing Barba to sit behind the taxi driver—harder for the driver to attack directly behind himself—while she took the other backseat. “Besides, I’d rather be safe than sorry. And I think Liv may actually kill me if you were to get hurt on my watch.”

“That’s the first thing you’ve said that I agree with,” he smirked. Barba knew he was being difficult, and he wasn’t entirely sure why; there had been two attempts on his life in two days, one that left an angry red mark on his face that everyone was too smart, or scared, to ask about, and another that still makes his heart beat faster when he thinks of it, the sound of the gunshots still echoing in his mind. Now that he had time to sit and think about it, he thought that his anger was a mix of stress from his job—he was doing four cases at once, two of which were tough cases to begin with—and a fear that someone actually took a hit out on him. He’d been an ADA for over a decade; he’s gotten multiple threats, everything from violence to him and/or his family to death threats. But this was the first time someone had actually tried to follow through with it. He sighed, deciding to not take his emotional outrage out on Motely; it wasn’t her fault that she got lumped into this. He had to check his rage, especially now when any mistake could be the difference between living his life and being six feet under.

“Can you give me a quick layout of your place?” Devon asked, jolting Barba out of his thoughts. He agreed, spending the rest of the drive filling in the broad details of his loft; it was smaller than he would like, to be honest, but it was cheaper and close to the courthouse. He had a full floor to himself; a living room, kitchen, two bathrooms—though one was a master bathroom connected to the master bedroom—and two bedrooms. There were only windows in the living room and the master bedroom, the fire escape outside the bedroom window.

The cab pulled to the curb; Devon paid the driver, then followed Barba up the couple steps to the glass door of the building. He opened it, and she followed him in, to the elevator, then down the short hallway to the front door of his loft. She allowed him to unlock the door and walk into the living room before stopping him. She took off her grip and placed it on a couch—there was only a loveseat and an armchair around a coffee table--locked the front door, then unholstered her gun once more.

“Anything out of place?” she asked, not looking at him but rather looking down the hallway to the master bedroom, watching the dark doors lining the walls. There wasn’t much to check in the living room; besides the couch, chair, and table, Barba had a simple TV stand with a TV on it, two bookshelves side-by-side, filled mostly with law books and other scholarly literature he kept from college, and a few, minimalistic wall art hangings. He wasn’t a home designer, and he was hardly home as it was, so he never felt the need to decorate. Once he declined, Devon said, “okay good. Now, place your whole hand on my back, and do not remove it until I say so.” Barba opened his mouth to ask, decided against it, and did as she asked.

Once Devon felt his strong hand lay hesitantly between her shoulder blades, the warmth of his skin sinking through the fabric of her shirt, she started to move through the loft. Barba missed a step, not expecting her to move. He then followed, hand staying on her muscular back. She checked every room, gun aimed at chest height, looking in the closets and under the bed, before ending in the master bedroom, announcing that the home was cleared and reholstering her gun.

“You can have your hand back,” she said while checking the locks on the windows.

“May I ask why I did that?” he asked, dropping his hand to his side. He could still feel the pull of her muscles moving under her shirt, even though he was no longer touching her. He stripped his suit jacket and tie, placed them on a hanger, and hung them on his closet door. Normally, he took it off by the front door and threw it over a chair, but something about having a guest over, especially one he didn’t know, made him want to not look like a total disaster. Though, he noticed with a hint of embarrassment, Devon did go through the guest bedroom, if you could call it that, during her sweep. That room had become a second office to Barba; it was a mess of files, papers, books, and other miscellaneous things that made no sense to anyone except Barba, though he wasn’t even sure what some of it was. There was no bed, no dressers, nothing that actually made it a bedroom. Only a small desk and a lonely desk lamp.

Devon gave him a look that said, just do what you’re told, before explaining. “Because I’ve found that it’s the easiest way to protect someone while also scanning a home. If you go in front of me, you have a chance of being assaulted if there is someone here. Likewise, if I abandoned you by the door, someone could blitz you while I’m back in the master room. It just makes sense to have you touching me, so I know you’re safe while I’m also a human shield.”

Barba didn’t want to know how many times she had failed to protect someone to have found out this method of protection. Seemingly approving of the locks on the bedroom windows, Devon moved to other rooms in the house, checking for ways to break in. Thankfully, his loft was on the 5th floor, so besides the fire escape, there wasn’t a real way to break in—unless he had some very, very determined hitman after him. After checking all the windows, she went to the front door. Unlocking it, she checked the hallway quickly before looking at the locking mechanism in the door; it had a normal deadbolt and a chain near eyelevel. There was also a peephole; otherwise, it was a normal door. She huffed when she noticed the screws holding the hinges on.

“Did you honestly move in here without changing at least the screws in the door?” she admonished.

Barba never thought about it before. “Uh, yes?” Devon shook her head.

“You should install some thicker, longer screws; makes it harder to kick your door down.” Devon then rummaged through her grip, pulling out a doorstop.

“A doorstop? Really? That will protect us if someone kicks the door down?”

Devon rolled her eyes. “Of course not. This is a screaming doorstop; once armed, if this door moves at all, that alarm will wake up the whole damn building.”

Barba looked impressed. “Why the hell do you even know about a device like that?”’

Devon laughed, “I may be an FBI agent, but I’m still a woman. Damsel in Defense is a god-send for living as a woman in the city.”

Grabbing the doorstop, she flipped a switch on it, then wedged it under the door. She then glanced at the clock on her phone, noticing it was getting close to 10pm. “Hey, it’s getting kinda late; what time do you normally go to bed?” she asked, realizing that neither of them had had dinner.

Barba looked at his watch, seemingly also unaware of the passage of time. He had to be in court at 9, which meant he had to be in his office at 7 tomorrow morning and now he was faced with the decision that he had almost every night; stay awake and work on his upcoming cases or get a decent night of sleep. He almost always chose the former, he’d just get a strong coffee or three before court tomorrow. But another part of him was desperate to be alone with his thoughts, to really absorbed the events happening in his life right now. Maybe he’d work for a little bit, then figure out a polite way to kick Motely out for the night, something he very much knew he’d fail at.

“It varies, but it’ll probably be around midnight for me tonight…hopefully,” he debated for a moment before saying, “I’m not planning on leaving at all tonight if you wanted to go sleep for a little. I’m leaving here at six tomorrow morning.”

Completely missing the hint, Devon replied, “ah, no worries. I normally go to sleep around that time, too. You won’t be bothering me at all.” To prove her point, she pulled out her laptop, plugged it in to the wall, and sat down in the armchair with it. Feeling like that was a failure to dislodge her, but unwilling to try again at this moment, Barba sighed. He pulled out the paperwork he was doing in his office, and spread it over the coffee table, taking a seat on the couch.

They worked silently for a couple hours before Barba spoke without looking up. “What are you even doing on that laptop?” As focused as he had been on his casework, the constant clicking of keys as Devon typed crept into his brain.

Devon gave him a wicked grin before she replied, “Facebook, remember?” When Barba shot back a glare, she huffed out a laugh. “I’m looking through the FBI’s database on the Aces. I want to know everything I can about them, seeing as I may have to deal with a couple of them in the coming months.”

“What have you found?” he asked, his paperwork completely forgotten. He got up, came over to the armchair, and sat on an arm, leaning in so that he could see the screen. Devon had the leader—Jorge Ramirez—on the screen, with a quick summation of his profile. She also had the two men from the alley and the man that took a shot at Barba today, whose name was Jake Peterson. He couldn’t help but notice that the two men from the alley, Jose and Rogelio Olivera, both had AT LARGE written in their profiles.

“Well, it’s a relatively small gang based in Manhattan; only 65 members, at least on file. Most are Hispanic, drug dealers, and traffickers...seems like their leader, Ramirez, was the bad one. Probably why he was the leader. Though, they do have a couple of white men hired on as frontmen; they’re the ones that sell drugs to the wealthy businessmen because, and I quote, ‘white men are more trustworthy to the rich bastards.’” They looked at each other, “hey, don’t look at me, I didn’t write it. But it makes sense; most capitalist pigs are deeply racist.”

“65 members, though? You’re right, that is small, but it will still take the cops time to catch them all,” the unsaid words hung in the air, tangible, but not claimed, it’s going to take a while for life to go back to normal.

“So far, only two are incarcerated, Jorge Ramirez and Jake Peterson. Looking through the profiles that I can pull up, it seems like only a few of them have actually murdered before, but not as an active profession. Not to get too cocky, but I think that’s a good sign for you; I should be able to take on anyone who threatens you. Unless, of course, you decide that you want to go wherever you want instead of listening to me.”

Barba flinched inwardly at the slight venom in her voice. He had to work on controlling that spite of his. “You’re right,” he said begrudgingly. “From now on, I’ll follow your lead.” He looked down at her, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

She looked up at him, returning the smile. “That’s all I can ask of you. I know it’s not an ideal situation, but I am here to help.” They sat there for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. Maybe protecting the ADA wouldn’t be too bad, maybe this wouldn’t drive a wedge between her’s and Liv’s friendship. And maybe, just maybe, they’d both get out alive at the end of this.

Barba looked into her eyes, lit by her laptop’s screen. He could listen to her, follow orders, like the good lapdog people wished he would be. He knew, deep down, that she was there to protect him; even if it was a ‘favor’ from Olivia, he could tell that Devon’s job meant a lot to her, that she was taking this seriously. He’d have to remember to thank Liv later, if he survived this. He suddenly realized that he didn’t want Devon to leave tonight; he felt safe here, in her presences.

They both seemed to notice at the same time how they were sitting; Barba had been leaning down closer to her face, and she was leaning closer to his leg, cheek almost brushing against his pantleg. He stood up, hiding the blush that spread across his cheeks as he noticed how close to his crotch she had been, how inappropriate it was. She sat up a little straighter and seemed to find her screen very interesting all of a sudden.

“Well, I think it’s about time I went to bed,” Barba said, stretching. He packed up all the papers into appropriate folders and placed them in his briefcase, so that he wouldn’t forget them in the morning.

“That’s probably a good idea. What time do you get up? Do you eat breakfast, have coffee? Anything I can help with?”

Barba was surprised by the questions. “Uh, around 5:00, no, no, and no.” Once he collected his thoughts a little, he explained, “I get up, I shower, I dress. Then I leave.”

“Simple, I like it. See you in the morning,” Devon trilled.

Confused, Barba didn’t move as Devon closed her laptop and put it on the table. She then stretched herself out on the loveseat, as much as she could since it was shorter than she was, putting her head on one of the pillows he kept on it.

“I—I take it you’re staying here tonight?” Barba asked, incredulous at her brazenness.

“Uh, yeah? You heard Sergeant Benson, I’m sure; ‘24/7 protection.’ That includes overnights, Barba.”

He felt the weight of those words; he was seriously going to be with this stranger all day, every day, for who knew how long. “I just…I didn’t expect—”

“It always catches people off guard the first night. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to me. And besides, our deal is that after the Aces are gone, you never have to see me again. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to change out of these clothes.”

Barba’s face went bright red as he hurried to his room. He could swear he heard Devon chuckling as he went. After a couple moments, he heard the guest bathroom door close. Suddenly remembering his hospitality, he went to his closet, grabbing one of his extra blankets, and made his way back out to the living room. He moved quickly, suddenly embarrassed about seeing Devon in pajamas, huffing out a goodnight as he passed by the bathroom as he retreated back to his room before she had a chance to emerge. Again, he could’ve sworn he heard her laughing as he hurried by. Why was he so embarrassed?

He faintly remembered the night before, how lonely he had felt in the bar. Now that he had a roommate thrust upon him, he wasn’t sure if he liked it. Not like there was much he could do about it now. And with that thought from the night before, the other memories came back, how pretty he thought she was, how he had entertained the idea of bringing her back here, even if only for a moment—

No, he wouldn’t, couldn’t think about that, especially with her right on the other side of his bedroom door, stretched out on his couch, sleeping under his blanket. God, what was happening to him? He still didn’t even really know this woman! He had to be more careful, reign in his emotions; she was an FBI agent, assigned to him to make sure he lived through this threat on his life. Nothing more, nothing less. Though, he had to admit that she was probably going to be around for a while. Might as well get to know her, he thought ruefully. He tried not to get too excited about the thought.

#everyone deserves love #edl #everyone deserves love chapter 4 #edl ch 4 #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #barba x oc #rafael barba x oc #fanfic #my writing #this is not a sponsored ad for damsel in defense #but it is a good source of cool stuff

21 notes · View notes

captainillogical · 5 years

Text

Devil’s Ballroom Ch.7

A year after the events from the earth’s final attack, Little Homeworld is finally complete, and there’s a new jazz bar where gems and humans mingle and drink. - As you’re typing back a reply, someone pulls the stool out next to you and takes a seat. You see a sliver of pink out of the corner of your eye as you try not to actually Look. Oh god. It’s her. God can’t help us now.

Spinel/Reader

collab with my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants

ya’ll im sorry lmao

You spend the rest of your evening doing exactly none of the errands that you needed to deal with today. Instead, you're laying on your couch and texting your friends.

Y/N: I'm so tornnnn.

Y/N: Do I say something about the cheek smooch?

Y/N: Should I leave it be?

Y/N: Because she's texting like nothing happened.

Y/N: What if I'm reading too much into it??

Y/N: What if that's just how she shows friendship affection???

Y/N: I might make it so fucking awkward if I assume something!

Y/N: This entire ordeal is mortifying!!!

Y/N: I want nothing more than to dig a big hole and lie in it forever.

Y/N: I might be low-key having a panic attack about this rn but what's new.

Harper: Y/N. chill. you're way overreacting to this.

Harper: even if it meant nothing, she still likes you as a friend right?

Harper: i think it would take a lot for her to like.. not wanna stay friends lol.

Alex: im just saying you could probably kiss her and she'd be ok with it

Alex: cheek kisses are pretty forward

Harper: don't listen to him. all of his relationships ended in failure.

Alex: wow

Alex: im seriously hurt

Harper: am I wrong?

Alex: no..

Harper: my point exactly.

Harper: i’m not saying you have nothing to lose or anything.

Harper: because i myself had to tread very carefully with leah..

Harper: but i think you should just see where it goes and not like

Harper: put too much emphasis on this incase it was nothing.

Y/N: Yeah see now you have me worried it WAS nothing!!

Alex: oh my goooooooddddddddddddddd

Alex: the both of you approach women so.. pathetically

Alex: take a risk

Alex: live a little

Alex: what is seriously the worst that could happen

�� Alex: she kills you??

Alex: lmao

Alex: its funny cuz of.. you know

Harper: i can’t wait to be home and smothering him with a pillow instead of affection.

Y/N: You and me both.

Y/N: Try being the only one available to play games with him.

Alex: both of you fucking love me okay

Alex: alsooooooo i get to be home the day after tomorrow

Alex: the alex is back, babieeeeee

Y/N: Harper please come home I’m BEGGING you.

Harper: sorry you gotta deal with him alone for another month lmao.

Y/N: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Alex: can i get a fucking crumb of love here please

You swipe over to the couple of messages Spinel has left you in the past couple of minutes while you were talking to your friends.

Spinel: It’s another stupid ball, I just found out.

Spinel: I told her that I’m sitting this one out this time.

Spinel: She has so many others that would absolutely love to help her, and yet, still absolutely insists that I must be there.

Spinel: I don’t want to go back to homeworld right now, and not for this.

Y/N: And you put your foot down? Hell yeah, dude.

Y/N: Planning a ball for a bunch of gems sounds like a chore anyway.

Spinel: oh, it is, believe me.

Spinel: And they need everything to be PERFECT.

Spinel: Which isn’t realistic anymore now that they don’t expect any of the gems to stay in line with their gem class nowadays.

Spinel: The last ball they threw almost 4 months ago was utterly chaotic.

Y/N: For thousands of years y'all as a race never pushed to deviate from the norm, and now that you guys are allowed to? I’d go batshit with it too.

Y/N: Being stifled in everyday life, and finally you’re free?

Y/N: Fuck, I’d go around fusing with anyone!

Spinel: That is precisely what too many of them did.

Y/N: Lmao. I wish I could’ve seen that.

You tab back over to your group chat for a moment to see what they’re talking about.

Harper: see? they’re everywhere.

Harper: i wasn’t expecting the campsite to have so many.

Alex: you could have built an army and instead you took pictures

Alex: do you know how easy it is to lure chipmunks?

Alex: oh that lil guy on the bottom right is so fucking chunky i love him

Harper: that’s the one that got the closest when i fed them. :3

Alex: oh i fuckin BET

Alex: you dont get that chubby in the wild without takin a few risks

Alex: if u know what i mean ;)

Harper: i hate whatever you just implied.

Y/N: It’s not a conversation with Alex unless you roll your eyes at least 3 times.

Alex: hey i thought it was 4 times

Alex: dont insult me

Alex: anyway, y/n

Alex: are you workin the day i come back

Y/N: Yeah I’m actually scheduled a double.

Alex: scheduled

Y/N: Yes.

Alex: a double

Y/N: Yes.

Alex: he can’t SCHEDULE you a DOUBLE

Y/N: He can if he asks me ahead of time as a favor.

Alex: that fuckin bastard

Alex: always ruining my plans

Harper: you’re still mad at him for firing you last summer, huh.

Alex: OF COURSE I AM

Y/N: Bro you stole like $300 of cotton candy sugar that summer.

Y/N: It’s only fair.

Y/N: Besides, I’m only doing this because he said he’d give me a long weekend for it.

Alex: kay well

Alex: i guess i’ll just go bug you at work and wait for you to get off that day :'(

Y/N: Get me written up again, I swear to god.

Your phone chimes several times, and you swipe down to see messages from both Spinel and Steven. You check Spinel's first.

Spinel: Do me a favor and ignore any messages Steven has sent you.

Y/N: What are you, my boss?

Spinel: I MEAN IT

You quickly switch over to Steven's texts.

Steven: I was going to ask you if your date with Spinel went okay, but I'm assuming it went fine considering she hasn't really stopped talking about you.

Ohhhh my god, this is wild. You reply to him.

Y/N: It wasn't a date as far as I know.

Y/N: I had fun.

Y/N: She's telling me to not read your messages, lmao.

Y/N: Also what do you mean she hasn't stopped talking about me??

Steven: She’s been lying on my floor for the last hour basically gushing about you.

Steven: But you didn’t hear that from me!

Steven: :D

Y/N: Haha thanks, kid.

You switch back over to text Spinel, and get up off the couch to make yourself some tea. Pulling out your kettle, you turn the stove on and grab some raspberry flavored abomination tea bag that your dad loves more than any of the other good tea flavors.

Y/N: Sooooo.

Spinel: You talked to him, didn’t you.

Y/N: Hahaha noooo. :)

Spinel: The fuck did he say?

Y/N: Absolutely nothing.

Spinel: Seriously? I was sure he’d reveal something embarrassing.

Y/N: Nope! You should probably get off his floor eventually, though.

Your kettle goes off and you grab a clean mug, and pour the boiling water into it along with the tea packet. You look down at your phone, and grin.

Spinel: goddammit.

You let the bag steep for a little bit, and add in a small amount of sugar. Walking up to your bedroom you take a snap of Jellybean half lounging, half falling off the stairs and send it to Spinel. She replies with a couple heart emojis, and you wonder if Steven was the one to show her the proper use of them. You set your cup of tea down on your desk, and turn your computer on. It’s evening now, and it’s much too late to do anything left with the rest of your day productivity-wise, so you settle in on playing more minecraft. Your thoughts wander quite a bit, and you find yourself stuck on thinking about Spinel. Naturally. You wonder about a lot of things she’s learned while staying on earth, from things like - does she pay rent? Does she have a job? Does she know what taxes are? Does she know what a relationship with a human looks like? She said she watched a movie, but didn’t exactly elaborate. You don’t know what human-norms she’s been exposed to. You can’t even concentrate enough to mine any of this redstone for Alex, and you nearly die in-game when the thought of ‘does she know what sex is?’ pops into your mind. You grab your phone and shoot Spinel another message.

Y/N: Quick question.

Y/N: If you don’t mind me asking.

It takes her a few minutes to reply.

Spinel: Sure?

Y/N: Do you know how humans are made?

Spinel: w

Spinel: Yes?

Spinel: Steven told me about it a few weeks ago actually.

Spinel: Why are you asking?

Y/N: No reason! Just curious is all.

Spinel: Hm.

Yeah you’re not too confident that she actually knows, and you’re too chickenshit to elaborate right now. You’ll enlighten her later. You spend the rest of the night browsing memes on your phone, and texting your friends and Spinel on occasion. Before you know it, your eyes drift close with your phone in hand.

You wake up when your alarm goes off for your morning shift, and curse at yourself for not charging it last night. It’s at a solid 32%, which isn’t really enough to go about your day, but you’ll have to make do. You get ready for a hopefully not shitty day, lock up the house, and head in to work.

It’s a complete shitshow when you come in, and you turn your phone off to save battery and concentrate on dealing with more than an average amount of tourists. You find Mr. Smiley sleeping in the breakroom/office/supply closet, and have half a mind to lock him in there from the outside for the rest of your shift. It’s pretty busy, and messy, and it isn’t until you’re there for several exhausting hours that you finally have enough time for a break. You turn your phone on, and instantly you’re flooded with messages from several different people. Ugh.

A couple from your dad - just checking in, really. Group chat too as usual, but none of it seems overly important. One from Spinel, and several from Steven. You open up Spinel’s message first.

Spinel: Do you think we could talk about a couple of things later?

Vague, and a little concerning. You text back an apology for getting back to her so late, and open the messages from Steven.

Steven: Hey are you busy?

Steven: I’m dealing with a bit of a situation right now, and could use your help.

Steven: Spinel locked herself in my bathroom, and she won’t come out.

Steven: She refuses to answer to anyone, and several of us have tried.

Steven: I’m just really worried about her, and you guys seemed to bond, so I was hoping..

Steven: That maybe you could come over?

Steven: Thanks regardless.

You check the timestamp, and that was over an hour ago. Jesus christ.

Y/N: Steven I’m so sorry, my phone was off and I’m at work, give me a few and I’ll be right over, okay?

Y/N: I’ll be quick.

He replies almost immediately with a “please” and you pocket your phone. You try not to worry too hard about Spinel as you rush over to grab your things, and knock on Mr. Smiley’s office/broom closet door. He opens it groggily, clearly just waking up.

“Yeah?” he slowly blinks at you.

“I gotta leave early. Emergency.” You stare at him, trying to not be pissed at his lack of work ethic.

“Are you for real? You’ve got another 3 hours left.” He says and crosses his arms, and you glare at him.

“I’ve been working my ass off while you’ve been sleeping this whole time, AND I’m covering your ass tomorrow so you can go meet your old friend! So the LEAST you can do is let me go early when I have an emergency!!!” You almost yell out at him, and he holds his hands up in defense.

“Okay, okay! Fine. Only because you’re a good worker.” He says, and has the gall to look at least a little ashamed of himself.

“Damn right I am.” You spin around and head out of the building, practically running.

You almost trip and bite it several times on the way over to Steven’s place, but you’re more worried about Spinel. You’ve only been to his place twice, but once you’re there you run up the stairs and open the door without knocking. You’re greeted by the only two people in the living room, Pearl, and Steven.

“Oh, she’s here!” Pearl says and nudges Steven, who looks up from typing on his phone.

“Y/N! Thank god you’re here.” He says with furrowed eyebrows.

“What happened?” You say and shut the door, and cross the room over to him.

“I’m not sure! We were just working on something together for Amethyst, and she got a call from Blue and Yellow. She’s been ignoring them lately, and they’ve been bothering me in turn because of that, so I asked her to take the call just see what they want.” He runs his hand through his brown curls, and just for a moment, you see that 12 year old him in again. The obvious stress masks just how young he really is, and you feel bad that he can’t live life like a normal kid. “She went outside to take the call, and was out there for quite a while. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I did hear some yelling. And just when I was going over to make sure they were alright, she comes back in tears, eyes spiraling like months ago, and nearly knocks Pearl over rushing into the bathroom.”

“And nothing since?” You inquire, fidgeting with your hands.

“No,” He says, frustratedly. “I’ve been trying to reach the diamonds to see what this is all about, but I’ve only been getting the pearls. I don’t know what to do. She hasn’t been like this in months. What were they talking about to make her this upset?”

“Maybe I can find out. You said she’s in your bathroom?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, the one right over here.” He says and points to it.

“Is it locked?” You ask.

“No,” Pearl glances towards the bathroom door and crosses her arms. “The lock has been broken on it for a while, since Peridot joined us actually. Both Garnet and I tried opening it, but I think once Spinel hears someone trying to come in she blocks the door.”

Hm.

“I’m gonna try something, but you guys are gonna wanna stay away.” You say to the two of them. “I don’t want to overwhelm her with more than one person.”

“Let us know if we can do anything?” Steven makes to pass by you and gives your arm a light squeeze. “And thanks for coming to help.”

“Anytime, dude.” You give him a half smile, and walk over to his bathroom. You turn to take a look back at the other two, and they’re already in the kitchen discussing something in soft tones. You move to knock at the door, make two light taps against the frame, and wait for an answer.

A couple seconds pass, and nothing. Not even any movement. Nervously, you knock again, a little louder this time, and wait for a good ten seconds.

Still nothing.

You take a deep breath, reach out to grab the door handle, and very slowly and quietly open the bathroom door. You see nothing but absolute darkness, and step in. You feel around the wall to your right and flip a switch just as you close the door behind you with an audible click. The room instantly floods with the dark red light of the heat lamp, and before you can even think about finding another light source, you find yourself slammed up against the wall and let out a surprised yelp. You open your eyes to see Spinel’s face inches from yours, pupils wild, her hands splayed against your shoulders.

“U-um,” Your voice cracks a little. “Hey.”

You watch her eyes take a second to find yours, and almost instantly, she lets you go, arms trembling.

“W.. what are YOU DOING HERE!?” She cries, large tears pouring down her face, eyebrows raised in confusion, mouth trembling. Her hair is in loose pigtails, strands untamed around her face, cheeks stained with tear tracks. She looks like a mess, and your heart breaks, just a little. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt y-”

“I’m fine.” You cut her off. “I should have said who it was outside the door, I’m sorry. And um.. Steven texted me while I was at work, and told me what was going on so I rushed over..” You trail off as you watch Spinel’s entire body shake, and she covers her face with both of her hands.

“I can’t believe I just did that.” You hear her wavering voice, muffled behind her fists, and she lets out a choked sob. “Maybe they were right. M-maybe I’m not meant to-” She quickly moves her hands down to look at the floor with wide, vulnerable eyes, and struggles to form the rest of her words. You hear her breathing pick up pace, and you’re starting to realize she’s hyperventilating.

“Spinel, look at me.” Her eyes shoot up to yours, lips trembling. “I need you to breathe.” You do what your friends have always done with you, and gently grab both of her hands and hold them with yours, thumbs stroking her palms in slow circles. She freezes up instantly, and you’re about to panic, because while a familiar touch helps ground you, you register that maybe it’ll make it worse for her. But before you can pull your hands away, her hands relax ever so slightly, and she lets out a shaky breath. “Good. Just like that.” You motion for her to follow your breathing inverals, and she copies you, hands still shaking in yours.

It’s been a while since you’ve had to deal with something like this, but you’re thankful for having similar life experiences. After a solid minute or two of this her breathing is back to a normal pace, but she’s still crying, and now not meeting your eyes. Almost like she’s avoiding them.

“Look, I.. I don’t know what happened with you and the diamonds, but you can talk to me about it if you’d like. No pressure, though.” You give her hands a small squeeze, and she whimpers, looking up to meet your gaze. Tears are still actively streaming down her face, and you have no idea how to make any of this better. It physically hurts you to see her like this.

“C-can I not talk about it? I don’t think I’m ready..” She pulls a hand from yours, and wipes at her face. She just kind of smeared half of her face with wetness, and she looks miserable.

“You don’t have to talk about anything, Spinel.” You look at her, making sure she sees it in your eyes. You slowly let go of her other hand, and hold your arms out in a silent question instead. Her mouth opens slightly, the red glow of the light around her making her look extremely vulnerable and soft, and she looks at your open arms with a blank face for a moment before understanding. Almost instantaneously, she throws herself against you and wraps her arms around your shoulders, shoving her face into the cradle of your neck. You envelop your arms around her tightly, giving her sides a squeeze, and you feel her start to shake again.

She lets out an unsteady sigh, and hiccups out another small sob. You pull her to lean fully against you as you stand there, bracing your back against the bathroom door. She lets you maneuver her, and you rest the side of your face against her temple while she cries. You resign yourself to letting her cry on you until she’s done, if she needs to.

You feel her sniffle against your neck, and try not to mind that she’s getting your shirt soaked. You give her back a few gentle rubs, feeling her body quiver against yours as she’s trying to control her choked breathing. You’re not really counting the minutes, as right now you’re currently having way too many rampant thoughts about what the fuck the diamonds could’ve said to her. You’re mad as hell, honestly, and if you could say shit to them, you would in a heartbeat. You don’t want to make anything worse for her though, as much as you want to steal her phone and video call them to curse them out. It takes a few more minutes, but eventually her crying dies down, and you feel her breathing even out. Slowly, she dislodges her arms from twisting around you two, and you feel a sigh, her breath hot against your neck. You do your best to school your facial expression as you’re realize just how close you are to her, and she pulls her face from its resting position to look at you. She looks awful.

“U-um,” She lifts up her hand to attempt to wipe her face, failing to rub half the tears away. “I don’t really want to go out there yet..”

“You don’t have to.” You say, quietly. “I can leave if you’d like some quiet to yourself.” Her face looks panicked for a second, and she grabs your wrist.

“Please don’t leave me.” She says, voice wavering again. You try not to let your heart shatter at her tone.

“I won’t if you want me here.” You say, and sigh softly. “Here, hold on a second.”

She lets your wrist go as you move slightly over to the sink, turn the hot water on, and grab a clean hand towel from the counter. You soak it in water, and squeeze out all the excess. Towel in hand, you turn back to her, and she’s looking at you cautiously. You lift the towel slightly, motioning to her face.

“May I?” You ask, and she nods slightly.

Tenderly, you brush a couple strands of hair away from her face, grasp her chin with your left hand and pull her forward, gently pressing the towel to her cheek. She closes her eyes, and her shoulders sag a little as she lets you dab at her face, cleaning her of any tear stain marks. She sighs into your touch, and it strikes you that it would be so easy to just.. lean in and kiss her.

Your brain almost short circuits and you snap your thoughts back to reality. There’s a time and place for everything. This is not the time, nor the place.

Once you’re satisfied that she looks a lot better than before, you pull your hands away to toss the rag in the sink, and Spinel, for a brief moment, looks disappointed that you had stopped. Which.. kind of gives you an idea.

“Can I try something? Harper used to do this thing with me when I.. had similar breakdowns.” You ask her. She raises her eyebrow in response, clearly exhausted from crying so much. “Here.” You say, and take her hand and lead her over to the rim of the bathtub. You sit down on the edge, and motion for her to sit in front of you on the floor. She takes a seat in front of you, still confused, but obeys nonetheless. “Can I touch you?” You ask her, watching her face to make sure she’s alright.

She looks up at you, the red light in the room flooding the entirety of her face, making her hair darker, and the whites of her eyes a bit more dramatic.

“Yeah.” She says in reply, voice tired.

You reach out to her hair, and stop for a moment.

“Can I have you face the other direction, actually? Come over here.” You move to open your knees, making enough room for Spinel to turn around and lean against the bathtub. She’s close to you again.

“What are you..” She trails off as you start to take the hair ties out of her pigtails, one after the other. It takes a second, as it’s a bit tangled, but you manage to get both out, and let her hair fall down. You comb out her hair with your fingers, gently, and she sighs audibly while leaning into your touch. You run your short nails along her scalp, scratching and massaging as you smooth out her hair, attempting to pull all the tangles out.

“Touch used to calm me down, and Harper was really good at it, honestly.” You say while pulling out a particularly difficult tangle without hurting her. Her hair is long like this, and you like it. You wish you could grow your hair this long, but it’s kind of a pain to deal with, and the longest you’ve ever had yours wasn’t even to your mid back, you think to yourself. “Sometimes she’d give me shoulder and neck massages, but I preferred that she’d just play with my hair. There’s just something different about another person touching your hair.”

“I kind of get what you mean.” She says, tiredly.

“Can I braid your hair?” You lean closer to look at her face.

“Do what you want.” She says, looking fairly relaxed.

“Cool. Anyway, while Harper was good at that, Alex, on the other hand, was just terrible at any kind of physical comfort. He’s genuine, and he tries, but he’s an idiot. He’s a lot better at distractions, for the most part.” You run your fingers through her hair one more time, before starting to separate her hair into three parts for a french braid. “He’s funny, and comes from a large family, so he always has stories and jokes. Whenever I’d have a panic attack, those two were always so good about being there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

You notice that Spinel‘s shoulders have lost most of the tension in them, and you’re secretly relieved. You keep talking to fill the quietness around you two, because you’ve always hated the quiet during moments like these. Your friends aren’t here, so it’s up to you to make up for it.

“It was kind of hard, at first though,” You say, and start looping the chunks of hair around your fingers, starting at the top of her head. “Because for a while there, back when I was 16 and dealing with the worst of my abandonment issues, I clung onto Harper like a baby koala. I had this super weird crush on her even though we had been friends since we were practically babies. I think I idolized her because she was just.. good to me.” You accidentally tug a little too hard on a strand of hair, wince and utter an apology while massaging the spot on her scalp. “I’m glad that didn’t ruin our friendship, but for a while there I really pushed my feelings onto her, which was kinda fucked up on my part.”

“Hm..” Spinel mumbles. “I kind of had a thing for Pink, I think. Which ended up screwing with me even more after what she did.” You stare at the back of her head and pause your hands for a second. Huh. Yeah, you had a hunch.

“If she were still alive, I’d punch her in the face for you, I hope you know.” You state, in full seriousness. This gets the first chuckle that you’ve heard from her today, and you’re secretly overjoyed.

“I’d pay to watch that.” She says, and you laugh out loud. You see her smile, just barely.

“So,” You continue, with both your hands and conversation. “A week or so after my 17th birthday, right after Harper talked to me about this guy at school that she liked, I confess to her. And not like a, ‘oh hey, you’re my best friend and I really like you’ kind of way, either. It was more like a, ‘have a mental breakdown over your best friend liking someone else and make them feel like shit about it on your walk home from school’ kind of confession.” Your hands reach the nape of her neck now, braid mostly done on her head, but you’ve got around another 20 inches of length before being finished.

“Harper avoided me for nearly a week after that. I was absolutely pathetic, and inconsolable. Alex was fed up with my shit after a few days, and nearly slapped me over it. He would’ve been in the right, doing so, honestly. I was a selfish asshole who only thought about her own feelings, and not about her best friends.” Your eyes drift to Spinel’s face, and her eyes are closed, eyebrows unfurrowed.

“Anyway,” You’re nearly done with the entire braid now. “She did end up forgiving me. Thankfully. I don’t know what I’d do if it were my fault that I’d split up our friend group.” You pick up the discarded hair tie from earlier, and tie it around the end of the braid.

“I’m all done, by the way.” You say to her. She opens her eyes tentatively, and she looks sleepy. You stand up, and stretch your back. She also gets up on wobbly legs, and turns to look at you.

“Um.” She’s avoiding your eyes. “Thank you. For this.” She’s twisting her hands together, nervously. You lean your face closer to get at eye-level with her.

“Anytime.. and for the record, you look really cute in a braid.” You say and smile, giving her a cheeky wink. You watch her entire face from the neck up turn bright red, and think that you could probably do this forever, and never get tired. She gives you a noncommittal grunt, halfheartedly smacks your arm and you grin at her.

You hear a quiet knock at the door, and look over to Spinel. She shrugs, so I guess it’s okay now.

“You can come in!” You say to the door. It opens slowly, and you see Steven peek his head in.

“Um.. are we okay?” He asks, clearly very worried about her.

“I’ll be okay.” She says, and you think that maybe she should lay down and sleep. You verbalize this immediately.

“Spinel. I think you should go take a nap.” You look at her, and she blinks at you. “I’m serious.”

“She’s kind of right.” Steven says in agreement with you. Spinel gives the both of you a shrug, and even that seems like it’s taking a lot out of her.

“Okay.” She says, and turns to walk out of the bathroom. Steven opens the door wider, and you can see Pearl in the kitchen leaning against the counter, trying to not seem like she’s intently watching all of you.

Spinel makes her way over to the couch and takes a seat, sitting up rigidly. You walk over to her to make sure she’s okay before you leave for home.

“You know you can text me, right? And if you need me, I’ll be available. I’ll leave my volume turned on.” She gives you a nod. “Oh, and.. take this,” You say, and pull off the pullover hoodie you’re wearing right now, and hand it over to her. “Alex used to let me wear his oversized sweaters, and they used to help me sleep, so..”

She tentatively reaches out, and takes it from your hands.

“Thanks.” She says, and gives you a small smile. With her hair pulled back like this she almost looks human, for a fleeting moment. You sometimes forget she’s a gem. You return the smile back at her, and turn around to leave.

After grabbing your bag that you set down earlier from beside the couch, you head over to the front door and open it. Shouldering the bag, you start to shut the door and see Steven behind you. He closes the door behind him, his face searching yours for something you don’t quite know.

“I don’t know what you did, but thank you.” He says, completely genuine.

“You don’t have to thank me. I’d do it for you, too, you know.” You say to him, and he smiles.

“That’s why I like you, Y/N. You’re sweet.”

“Yeahhhh, don’t tell anyone, though. You’ll ruin my reputation.” You smirk, giving him the side-eye. He laughs and pats your back.

“Ohhhhhh no! Whatever will you do!?” He rolls his eyes in jest. “Get home safe, okay?”

“No promises.” You reply, and jump down his steps, two at a time.

It doesn’t take you long to get home, and you’re pretty tired yourself. You make yourself busy by preparing dinner, cleaning the kitchen a little, and calling your dad for another check-in. Before you know it, it’s nearly 11, and you need to sleep for your double shift tomorrow that you almost forgot about. You’re laying in bed browsing social media before drifting off, and you receive a text from Spinel. You swipe down and open the message.

Spinel: Thanks again for today.

Spinel: I baked some new cookies with Steven, and would like to give you some tomorrow if that’s okay?

You smile to yourself. Ughhhhhhhh, you’re catching the feelings disease, and you swat the air around you like it somehow physically manifested around you.

Y/N: I work literally all day, but feel free to stop by and give them to me.

Y/N: Then I get to see a pretty familiar face to break up all the lame tourists.

Y/N: Cuz that sounds super nice. ;)

Spinel: I’ll see you tomorrow, then.

She didn’t react to your obvious teasing, but you won’t let that discourage you. You fall asleep thinking of the many different ways you can poke fun at her, and this time, you charge your phone.

You wake up the next morning feeling well-rested for once, and get ready for work. Alex has sent you a couple texts about when his flight will arrive, and when he’ll roughly come to meet you. Sometime around 4pm, apparently. You shoot Spinel a good morning text, and she replies almost instantly with the same, which makes you smile.

You head to work, texting your group chat about what happened yesterday with Spinel, and give them basically all the details. Alex makes fun of you for a bit, so you curse him out and pocket your phone as you clock in. Today’s going to suck, but you’ve got a few things to look forward to.

You make it a couple hours into your shift before you finally get a break, and Spinel texts you that she’ll drop by sometime in the afternoon once she’s done helping Bismuth with something. God you hope it’s not when Alex gets here, because you are so not fucking ready for that interaction. You eat your lunch and pray to any god out there that you could have one more day of peace.

You’re outside the main building repairing a couple parts on the carousel, ignoring the bulk of the tourists to focus on work. You don’t realize that quite a while has passed by, because someone walks up to you as you’ve got your head in a small door, and kicks you slightly on your ass. You jolt and bump your head against the opening, and you hear Alex burst out into laughter as you groan in pain.

God fucking dammit, this guy. You pull your head out to glare at him, screwdriver pointing at him threateningly.

“Do you want this up your ass? Because I can do that.” You say to him, and he laughs even harder. You roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t promise me with a good time, Y/N.” He says, and you stand up to smack him.

“I don’t think the pointy end would be a good time, idiot.” You deadpan stare at him. He grins.

“You don’t know what I’m into.” He shrugs, and flips his hair dramatically. You hate that he’s stupid and charming, and you love him so much.

“I know I haven’t seen you in 2 months, but like, I feel like you’ve grown taller?” You stare at him, a little mournfully. You’re the shortest one out of your friends, and you’re of average height. He also seems.. handsomer. You think he definitely got a lot more tan. He’s definitely grown into his looks, his dark curly hair and recently shaved face making him look older than you’re used to.

“I don’t think I did, but I think you’ve grown shorter.” He laughs obnoxiously, and you smack his arm again, which makes him laugh harder.

“You’re so mean to me, like all the time. Why do I love you?” You cross your arms and pout, because you know it gets a rise out of him.

“Youuuuuuu knowww, because I’m just so loveable and gorgeous and the smartest one in the group??” He flutters his eyelashes at you like he thinks he’s cute.

“Wow, you are none of these things.” You reply, smirking at him. He puts his hand over his heart in mock offense.

“Y/N, I’m offended. I’ve been here for like, five minutes, and I’ve received absolutely no affection from you. If I don’t get love, I will wilt and die. Do you want to be responsible for my death?” He opens his arms wide, and you roll your eyes dramatically, and stand there.

“We’re not doing this in public.” You say, standing your ground.

“Ohhh, YES we are, Y/N.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Prepare yourself for the onslaught.”

You take a couple steps back, prepared to run. He grabs your arms, wraps his around your torso, and picks you up, swinging you around.

“Nooooooooooooooooo!!” You cry. “Put me down you oaf!”

“No! I want love!” He all but shouts, and spins you around. He grabs your cheek with one hand and starts giving you big ‘ol smooches all over your face, and you’re giggling and trying to push him away, when you hear something drop and spill on the pavement a good twenty feet from you. You look up.

It’s Spinel.

Her face is twisted with heartbreak, and before you can even speak up, she bolts.

You look down, and see the cookies she made you scattered on the ground.

#spinel x reader #spinel #su #steven universe #spinel self insert #fic #my fic #devils ballroom #look. im not sorry yall. i promise next chapter youll get what u want LMFAO

132 notes · View notes

laughing-with-god · 5 years

Text

Exo as Yandere (based on Venus and Mars signs)

(I personally think that astrology reveals a lot about a person and I think it’s interesting to look into an idols’ chart to predict how they could be. As a writer, I tend to keep a person’s chart in mind when creating their character but in no way am I saying that they are like this. We don’t know Exo’s precise birth-times and this is a fictional scenario. Please no bitching in my inbox. Please enjoy and share your thoughts~)

Kim Minseok

{Venus in Aquarius}

He was probably a friend to you in the beginning but somehow worked his way into much, much more.

Aquarius has a reputation for being aloof or detached but they’re very good at analyzing and manipulating. His yandere is almost never detected bc he’s so good at hiding it.

Venus is what we are attracted to. So with his Venus in Aquarius we know he tends to like people who are unconvententional or unique for some reason.

Your race, your hair, your style ect… chances are it’s very different from the societal norm he’s used to.

Probably has a thing for foriengers

Big Age gaps too, doesn’t mind if you’re a baby to him or a milf but he will almost always end up with one or the other.

At first he wouldn’t realize that he was obsessed with you.

He would just tell himself that you’re a very interesting person and it’s normal for him to want to know more about you.

But eventually he’ll come to terms with it when he finds himself stalking and or emotionally manipulating you.

I think hes very big on stalking tbh. the reason why I think this is because his moon is in pisces and they tend to grow overly-attached to people. Mix that with his venus and mars in aquarius and you get someone who has an intense need to be near you and ALSO has the stealth and smarts to follow you around whilst being undetected.

The Lightbulb would go off when he’s crouched behind a bush to watch you or something and he’ll be like “......damn, I’m in too deep.”

Knows that stalking can be very inconvenient and risky so eventually it’ll bleed into him bugging your phone, car, watch ect.

Just to keep tabs on your locations. he’s become accoustemed to your usual spots so if he sees you at an unfamiliar address then he’ll physically track you down.

Really good at tugging on your heart-strings. His moon in Pisces tells me that he knows how to play with emotions and his aquarius side uses that to his advantage.

but he’s very subtle and you could never call it out if you wanted to bc he’s just so good.

“Well, it’s just after all I’ve done for you I thought maybe....”

“I just want what’s best for you. Would you rather have someone who has the worst intentions?”

“God knows what would’ve happen to you if I wasn’t there for you.”

{Mars in Aquarius}

I’m not saying freaky sex but, uh.....freaky sex

it’s hard to nail down the kinks of a mars in aquarius bc they could be into ANYTHING.

All we know is that they are attracted to the taboo and unconventenal so the kinks are almost always weird and unsuspecting.

Boy could be into feet for all we know.....

Anyways, as for the yandere side of him....Minseok doesn’t get mad bc he knows that tantrums are unproductive and can raise red flags

He gets clever.

he knows that the minute you pick up on his obsession with you, it’s over. therefore he always has Plans A through Z prepared

Most mars in aquarius don’t get jealous but I think Minseok is an eception given he has some pisces in him.

he feels so deeply for you.

Yes, I think he can and will kill those that get too close to his beloved.

But he would never be to obvious about it.

A friend starts flirting with you and crosses some boundaries? No worries, Minseok is patient enough to wait for the perfect time to strike.

could be next week, month or year but he’s ready all the same

he’s a fan of making it look as if his victims died in freak accidents

Like a guy will be fixing a car and minseok will just walk over and release the thing that keeps the car up so the guy gets crushed.

Or accidently tampering with some brakes...

Or stealing someone’s carbon monoxide detector so poisonous gas can slowly seep into their home.....

Maybe switching up some medications to cause some accidental overdoses

Creative deaths that he enjoys planning and can almost never be traced back to anyone bc they don’t even look like murders.

Punishments?

Minseok doesn’t like getting his hands dirty much less putting them on you.

But he does enjoy playing mind games.

he likes making you dependent on him so whenever you act up, he’ll just remove his support system so you can see exactly how much you need him.

You’ll never even suspect his yandere, and that’s just how he wants it.

Kim Junmyeon

{Venus in Cancer}

Junmyeon has the ‘boy next door’ vibe and he wants nothing more than to find the ‘girl next door’

Whenever he sees a girl/boy that looks just perfect to bring home to his family, he simply melts and falls in love

Attracted to slightly younger or same age partners.

Likes smooth and lighter skin, BOOB man, long dark hair, shorter than him, curvier bodies.

All the things listed above make him drool

Also he’s someone who prefers traditional Korean partners (sorry but some people have a preference for partners with the same cultural background)

Cancer is the sign of motherhood and that’s exactly what he’s looking for- the future mother of his kids.

So his yandere side probably developed when your relationship steadily grew serious.

the more time he spends with you, the more he gets delusional about how your life will be with him.

You catch him calling himself your husband like three months into dating him.

because in his mind you guys are already like an old married couple.

Probably went ahead and introduced himself to your parents before you even got the chance to. You wouldn’t notice until your mom mentions how sweet Junmyeon was when he took her out last week and you’re like “....what the fuck? I hadn’t even brought him home yet.”

Junmyeon is a textbook over-thinker and the epitome of an A type personality.

He has everything planned out about your future.

the wedding venue, the house you guys will settle in, how many kids you’ll have. He has it all down to a tee

Very Overprotective of you.

has an obsession with being your white knight so he’s always jumping at every chance to protect or save you.

Even if these so-called ‘threats’ aren’t really threats....

He’s too gentlemanly to get violent with someone.

But he is very good at being passive-aggressive and pulling people aside to have friendly ‘chats’

And if those ‘chats’ don’t work then he’ll just have to pay someone to get his message across.

has a burner phone for his hired hitmen

very into gender roled. idk how to explain it but he wants to be the ‘man’ and get all the doors for you, pay for everything, take the initiave during sex or affection. He’s not sexist so much as he enjoys old style romance.

You would have to be a fool to not pick up on his overzealousness of you. So on a small scale you are aware that there is a yandere side to him, but he’s so kind that you just rationalize it as him being clingy and over-romantic

{Mars in Cancer}

Overall, Junmyeon is vanilla in bed but very sensual.

the type to hold your hand and whisper praises in your ear while it’s going down.

mars in cancer leads me to suspect one weird kink; impregnation. he’s just really into the idea of you having his kids. I don’t know if he’s even aware of it but he does get turned on by the idea of breeding and he’ll catch himself feeling a certain way when you guys don’t use a condom.

He’s also attracted to the supple parts of a woman. Like the boobs, softer tummy and the fleshy thighs/butt

wouldn’t mind a slightly chubby s/o for these reasons.

junmyeon doesn’t really get angry unless your safety or future with him is tampered with.

Like while other yanderes would flip out at other people looking at their beloved, Junmyeon doesn’t care bc ofc he’s aware that you’re very attractive and he can’t control all the wandering stares.

However if someone were to tell you that they don’t think you and Junmyeon were a good fit and perhaps you should look elsewhere...

heads will roll...

How dare someone try to jeoprodize all he had planned by getting into your head?! Don't they know that you and Suho are the perfect couple?

Addicted to spoiling you bc his mars in cancer makes it so that he enjoys providing for his loved ones

He’s very big on couple outfits bc it’s another way of rubbing everyones’ face in how happy you two are.

Doesn’t punish you bc he worships you and it’ll ruin the image of marital bliss if he put his hands on you

Instead he convinces himself that it’s someone else who got into your head and is making you act up

“Darling, I know that someone filled your pretty head with useless garbage. Why don’t you just tell me who it is and I can have a talk with them.”

He likes having your friends over for dinner and stuff bc he loves the idea of you and him being the ‘mom and dad’ of the group.

ALWAYS offering relationship advice to his single friends like, “Well when stuff like that happens what me and Y/n do is....”

His moon is in gemini and I think he is totally capable of living two different lives. if he plays his card right, you’ll never find out about how sinister your ‘perfect’ hubby actually is

In general, he is a soft and clingy yandere who you would think is harmless. But those shady contacts in his burner phone tell a different story.

Yixing

{Venus in Virgo}

Lay adores innocence in a partner.

Virgo is the ‘virgin’ so he’s attracted to the image of purity because of this.

turn ons: younger partners, shorter and petite statures, big watery eyes, feminine clothing and manners, high pitched voices

He is also slightly obsessed with the idea of living in a fairy tale romance with you.

Most likely fell in love with you at first sight

Not the type to slowly develop a friendship with you into a relationship.

No, he makes his intentions known right off the bat.

he will be with you.

Virgo is very analytical and he’s constantly planning ahead and reading way too much into your words/actions.

Sweeps you off your feet everytime he takes you out. even if he’s just taking you out to dinner he’ll bring along a thoughtful gift to ensure you never forget how serious he is about you.

probably has a secret notebook that he has to take notes about you.

“she mentioned that her laptop has been acting slow lately. I should write down to get her a new one.”

“her face cringed when I mentioned cats. I should document that for later until I know exactly what that means.”

Yixing is like a rentlesless student whose dedicated to studying you.

he probably has a stash for momentos of you.

has pictures saved from your old social media accounts from like years before he even knew you.

he’s not a violent or obvious yandere bc his virgo side has already calculated the risks if he ever slipped up and he’d go crazy if he lost you.

Therefore he’s gotten really good at hiding how infatuated he truly is with you.

Doesn’t mean that there aren’t little slip ups

Sometimes you’ll be telling him something and he’ll say something that he shouldn’t know.

You: “So when I was studying at-” “(Blank) university, right?” “Yeah....wait how did you know that?”

When that happens he always just tries to play it off as if you already told him that information but you never recall these conversations.

But he always changes the topic before you could prod any further.

{Mars in Libra}

In the bed he’ll be whatever you want him to be.

You’re a dom? He’ll be your sub. you’re a sub? he’ll be your dom.

Your kinks are his now too.

Libras are people pleasers and your sex life is basically just him worshiping and serving you.

he also never looses his temper with you, or anyone for that matter.

Libras are clever and charming and not known for being very emotional, so he has all of his yandere in control.

He rather work the people around you and plant a seed in your head if you ever suspect anything.

“Y/n, if I truly was crazy then how come all your family and friends love me?”

“baby, it’s all in your head. Do I really look like the type of guy to do all those things that you’re accusing me of?”

“Fine leave me. But just know taht you’ll never find someone as good as me. and your friends agree witht that too.”

He won’t kill other people but he will blackmail.

He’s very good at getting information so if someone is getting a little too close to you he’ll just dig up some dirt and confront them with it.

If that doesn’t dork he’ll just try to change your prespective of said person by casually bringing up how ‘foul’ they are.

Doesn’t punish you bc he’s not your father. As obsessed as he is with you, he still considers you both equals in the relationship.

Soft yandere for you.

Having placements in libra and virgo make it so that he’ll do anything to make you happy.

Just say the word and he’s on it.

Some yanderes try to force their signifact other into being the ‘perfect lover’ but Yixing is different.

He’ll change the very foundation of who he is just to make you happy.

Byun Baekhyun

{Venus in Taurus}

Enjoys older partners, prefers sexy over cute bc he’s attracted to mature people

Lives for curves.

Like Suho, he also enjoys the more supple parts of the female body. Boobs, softer tummy, fleshy thighs and bigger butts.

very sensual bc Taurus is about feeling physical pleasures so he’s constantly holding you or touching you ins ome way, shape or form.

Weird but since Taurus needs to feel to truly get close to someone, the more skinship he has with you the more yandere he becomes.

very possessive bc Taurus tends to view loved ones in terms of personal posessions.

You belong to him and he will have the biggest hissy fit if someone else is touching you

Your dates are more homely bc Baekhyun is a homebody and he wants to enjoy you in a place free of distractions.

Also in-home dates mean more cuddling for him.

I cannot stress enough how important physical affection is to him.

He needs it to live.

Clingiest yandere.

Because he’s so possessive I def see him trying to control what you wear and who you talkt to

But he’s very sly about it and tries to put in a perspective that makes him look like a thoughtful boyfriend.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but theres tons of cat callers in the city and I don’t want anyone making you uncomfortable. Would you mind putting a sweater over that?”

“It’s just that friends are supposed to be supportive and if they’re not being supportive of your relationship...then maybe they’re not good friends?”

He’s not that delusional about you until you’re taken away from him.

Like let’s say you take a trip (without him) early in the relationship

During the days you’re gone he’ll go I n s a n e

When he’s not blowing up your phone, he’s crying like crazy and working himself into paranoia frenzies about what could be happening to you.

When you finally get back into his arms, he’s not leaving your side for days

Touch starved for you 24/7

He gets really grumpy when he’s not near you, so people think he’s a jerk if they meet him when he’s experiencing withdrawls.

But if your by his side then he’s the sweetest angel ever.

He’ s not good at manipulating so he doesn’t even bother trying. he’ll be very straight up about all his yandere behavior bc he honestly sees nothing worng with it.

Like how the hell could he love you too much? To him that sounds like bullshit.

{Mars in Aries}

very rough and fast in bed.

Sex with him is either all night long or 15 minutes. There is no in-between. (His Taurus makes it so he loves long drawn out sex with lots of touching and praise, but his aries makes it so that he often gets horny and needs to get it out really soon. thus, you also get quickies.)

mars in aries is a very interesting placement. Mars is the planet of war and aries is a warrior sign. Which means Baekhyun is one of the more brutal yanderes.

I dare say Baekhyun enjoys pain during sex. probably both giving and receiving.

His anger issues are really bad.

likes getting his hands dirty when getting rid of people.

His trademark is beating his victims for hours on endbefore finally killing them.

Their bodies are always very hard to identify bc they’re always beaten so bad to a point of being unreconginazable.

I don’t see him hurting you though. He’s too in love to put his hands on you. The only scenario is if you try to leave him, he might physically drag you back and rough house you a little bit.

There’s two baekhyuns; the soft and clingy one that needs to be held by you in order to be happy

OR the explosive Baekhyun that thinks someone is trying to keep him away from you.

Weird but I think he likes bruises and marks .

Whether it be from you during sex or one of his victims who fought back, he likes them all the same bc he has a slight fascination with violence.

He also adores leaving marks on you too, if you let him ofc.

His venus in tarus means he’s ultra jelous and possessive and his aries gives him the fire-power to fight back.

With you, he’s in heaven. And if someone tires to ruin that, he’ll raise hell.

Kim Jongdae

{Venus in Libra}

Likes girly partners.

Docile, passive manners, pastel colors, feminine style

Doesn’t have an age preference. he appreciates aspects of younger and older partners so it’s really up in the air.

he is a very sociable and charming person so he falls for people who are also charismatic.

You have to be able to hold his attention.

he likes witty partners too, someone who can have quick comebacks and understand his sarcastic humor.

One of the chilliest yanderes tbh.

He’s not controlling or overly jealous. he’s more focused on getting you to like him.

You can make an off-hand comment about how you think guys in sweaters are really cute.

he’ll go out and buy 50 and make sure to wear one whenever you’re around.

Even if it’s summer and he’s sweating like crazy, he’ll still endure it if it means being closer to your ideal type.

Since you’re so captivating to him he can’t help but desperately try to get you to like him.

It’s very important to him because you’re by far the most enchanting person he’s ever met and the thought of you not having a positive outlook of him fills him with dread.

So his yandere side is based around how desperate he is to get you to feel the same about him as he does you.

he’s a slave for you tbh.

he’s on your beck and call, he’d be so honored that you’d ask him to do anything for you

His friends and family may notice major behavior changes in him ever since he met you.

He will immediately shed his own style to match yours.

And he’ll start hanging out at all your usual spots.

he’ll act like it’s a coincidence that he keeps running into you but in all honesty he’s practically staking out these places in hopes of seeing you there.

As a boyfriend he’s extremely attentive and caring.

One of those guys who knows you better than you know yourelf.

he’ll come by with chocolates, an electric blanket and pain medicine and you’re like”...what’s this?” and he’ll just say “You’re period is coming soon, I wanted you to be prepared.”

When he’s with you he looses contact with the outside world.

Like it’s totally normal for him not to talk to his friends for weeks on end bc he’s so wrapped up in you.

{Mars in Cancer}

Vanila in bed but is probably a little subby.

Praise. I think he’s vocal in bed, his libra and cancer makes me think he’s very soft so I suspect lots of sweet nothings .

Wants a family with you, it’s the great end-game.

Also big on providing for you bc he want a traditional family and that includes him working to support them.

very protective of you.

I don’t think he’s violent but he does loose his cool if he thinks someone is putting you in a dangerous situation or making you uncomfortable.

has a ‘damsel in distress’ complex with you and is always rushing to ‘save’ you

Your home is very sacred to him. cancers are very touchy about their homes bc it’s their safe place so he’s not a fan of people just coming and going through your shared space.

he doesn’t get angry at you.

rather he self pitties and places the blame on him whenever things get tense between you two.

“you’re absolutely right Y/n. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why you put up with me.”

“I know you deserve better but please just tolerate me for a little longer. I swear I’ll work harder to become more deserving of you.”

Really good with twisting peoples words to get his desired affect.

Like Suho, he also tells himself that other people have gotten in your head if you ever try to leave him. Delusional bc once he gets with you, he thinks you two are the perfect couple.

Probably will try to isolate you at some pint.

he will cut off some people from your life if he doesn’t approve.

But he will do it by making them look bad and changing your perspective on them.

“I saw your friend (name) doing some weird things lately.”

“I know your close with them but I don’t know how I feel about them....”

“I don’t like the influence they have on you.”

Overall, he is a very dedicated but tame yandere.

He will move mountains for you if you just let him.

Park Chanyeol

{Venus in Capricorn}

attracted to taller partners with duskier complexions and slender faces.

Also tends to lean more towards older partners bc he likes mature people who have their ‘shit together’, so to speak.

likes career woman/men, he likes professionalism in a significant other

Chanyeol will follow the normal ‘courting’ process because he respects traditions.

Wont kiss you until the thid date, won’t have sex with you until you guys have been dating for weeks, follows all the rules of how a guy should treat a lady. (even if you’re a guy, he’ll still try to be the ‘man’ of the relationship)

He doesn’t like trendy or revealing clothes on a partner, he likes more conservative styles.

A person he can take home to his family.

Also has a preference for Korean partners (although I don’t think it’s a make or break factor like it is for Suho)

Very possessive of you.

Like Baekhyun, he also tends to view you as a personal possession more than an actual person with free will.

He knows what’s best for you and he’ll keep reminding you.

Wants you dependent on him so you can see how great he is at taking care of you.

Weird, but he will try to bribe you with money. Financial security is very important to Capricorns and chances are hes richer than you so you’ll catch him bringing up how wealthy he is.

“I can support both you and me, no problem.”

“If you just moved in with me you wouldn’t even have to worry about bills anymore.”

When you’re with him he’ll make sure you don’t have to pay for anything.

Although he is attracted to ambitous partners, his need to provide for you and his mars in cancer makes it so that he’ll eventually want you to quit your job.

Needs your only priority to be him.

(well, until you have kids but that’s not till later.)

Capricorn likes control so he’ll love dictating things for you.

Caps are also very patient so he’ll wait as long as it takes to slowly bleed his way into controlling every aspect of your life.

It’s a gradual process. At first he’ll mention small things to you, but give it some time and he’ll be in charge of those things in a few months.

“My phone is dead and I need to text someone. Can I use yours for a second?”

(Three months later) “Give me your phone. I want to see all your contacts.”

Sometimes he’s more like a father than boyfriend bc he’s just so protective and is always shielding you from things he deems unsafe for you.

{Mars in Cancer}

Suprisingly gentle in bed but still a dom.

Daddy

LiStEn, Capricorn makes him want to be an authority figure to you while cancer makes him soft and gentle. Mix that up and what do you get? A soft Daddy dom

Okay, that’s my ted-talk.

He wants a cute little housewife/househusband.

((I know what you’re thinking; “but chinkbihh, didn’t you just say that he like a career partner?” Well my little grasshopper, his fantasy is to take an ambitous person (since that’s what he’s attracted to) and make them into a little housewife/househusband))

Wants to have that experience of coming home from a long day of work to see you with dinner ready and the house all clean.

You getting dolled up for him and just for him makes him feel things.

If it was up to him, you’d never leave the house.

Really needs you to get along with his family, it’s really important to him that you do.

If you don’t, he’ll make you.

His cap makes it so that he has harsh rules for you to follow but his cancer makes it so that he never really punishes you if those rules are broken.

9 times out of 10 he settles for a strong lecture.

But, I do see occasional spankings if he gets really worked up.

Kids are just a given with him, he wan’ts a family and his fantasy is incomplete without them.

will be very yander about his kids too.

Extremely protective of them.

He wants you and him to look like the best married couple, the type that your kids will look up to and want for themselves one day.

Pampers you all the time, esp when you’re pregnant.

also a fan of couple clothes and maybe even a discreet couple tattoo.

Overall he’s a yandere who has a very specific picture perfect image he wants. And you’re just there to play your part.

Do Kyungsoo

{Venus in Pisces}

Won’t settle for anything other than the perfect partner of his dreams.

enjoys smaller partners, petite statures, a sucker for big watery eyes and impish or upturned noses, also more of a boob man than an ass man.

I don’t think he has an age preference but he does like a quiet wisdom in someone.

Not maturity per say because frankly I see him enjoying a slightly childish partner, but some people hold a quiet air about them that just tells you they’re an old soul. He’s very drawn to those people.

To be honest with you, you probably didn’t know him at all.

He’s a secret admirer (stalker) that you’d never even notice.

God only knows where he found you. it could be from the bus, the café you go to, a neighbor, a friend of a friend of a friend. It’s a mystery.

But boy when he saw you, did something just click.

Prone to dellusion

heres why; Pisces is all about dreams, fantasy and escapism. because of this Kyungsoo is someone who is really in love with love. His yandere side just amplifies that. He believes that him catching sight of you (on a whim in public) is destiny or love at first sight, he thinks all his stalking and love letters are just parts of a romantic courting process, deems you two soulmates before you have even said a word to him.

Because pisces is ruled by Neptune ( a planet that often blurs the lines between reality and fantasy) Kyungsoo is borderline mentally unstable because he genuinely elievs all of his daydreams and can’t decipher a reality in which you two aren’t together.

Sends you a gift like everyday.

It’s always an oddly convenient gift too. like if you accidenetly ruined a shirt one day, you’ll wake up the next morning to an exact replica of that shirt sitting on your doorstep.

While part of you is sorta thankful, another part of you is terrified because this must mean that your stalker is someone who knows even the most microscopic details about you.

he also sends you love letters everyday.

these aren’t just little ‘I love you’ notes either.

No.

They’re multi-paged letters filled top to bottom with utter poetry about a deep infatuation with you.

as if the dedication isn’t surprising enough, the details inside the writing is wild and makes you insanely paranoid.

Once you begin to realize that you’re under someones’ microscope, you begin to take percation by closing windows, buying locks, changing up your routine and investing in some self defense.

He just finds this cute and will mention it in his letters

“While I do wish for you to say

119 notes · View notes

ariahearthockey · 5 years

Text

Love Me, If You Will - Chapter 3

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

_/_/_/_/

Fandom: Men’s Hockey RPF

Pairing: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin

Tags: 2017 NHL Playoffs, Concussion, Memory Loss, Medical Inaccuracies, Unexplained Medical Conditions, Alternate Reality, Time Travel (sort of), Pining, Fluff, Porn With Feelings, Happy Ending (sort of)

Soundtrack: Dancing On My Own - Calum Scott

_/_/_/_/

Chapter 3

He feels odd walking down the familiar hallway towards the locker room in the PPG Paint Arena. Everything looks as it should be and yet, it feels somewhat difference. He has just finished a brief chat with Sully in his office, relaying the good news after his follow-up check-up with the team doctor. As expected, Dr Vyas has cleared him to play in game five but not before he is reminded to keep a look out for any more symptoms. He has decided not to enclose his issue with his messed-up memory, and it is arguably the most conflicted he has ever felt. It feels a lot like a betrayal of trust to the management, but with the playoff on the line, too much is at risk.

On the drive from their house to the rink, he has some time to think about the matter on hand and he has decided not to let anyone know other than himself and Geno. He is still shaken about it for sure, but years of practice has allowed him to compartmentalise his fear and do what needs to be done. And what he needs is for this to not interfere with his chance to go for the Stanley Cup with his team.

It took him more than half an hour in the staffs' parking lot to convince Geno. Geno has looked so offended when he has first suggested to keep it a secret. Geno was absolutely appalled and almost recruited Brisson to talk some sense into him until he begs Geno not to. He talked to Geno with as much sincerity as he could muster, reasoning with Geno that there would not be a quick fix to his condition. What if Dr. Vyas decided to pull him out for the rest of the playoff? What good will that do to the team?

And Geno had been so angry that he said to hell with the playoff because everything else pales in comparison to Sidney's health. Sidney would have been really touched by that, that Geno is genuinely scared for his sake. If only he wasn't a selfish bastard.

He pried further into Geno's weakness and used it to his advantage. He pleaded Geno to understand his desire to keep playing, telling him how much it would mean for him if he could raise the cup over his head again, how happy it would make him if they could kiss the cup again and bring it home together. And that if his memory never comes back, then at least he could have this, and they could build new ones together. It was a cheap shot, borderline manipulative to be taking advantage of Geno's kindness like that, but he was desperate, and it did get him what he wanted. Geno's reluctance was torn down bits by bits, and finally crumbled down when Sidney promised to come clean right away when he feels any worse.

So, as of right now, the secret is safe.

In a moment of honesty, he is willing to admit that he has never been as shaken as he has. He is somehow thrust in the center on an entirely different life that he knows nothing of. He has a husband and a beautiful, doting 3-year old daughter. Sofya, the child who is rightfully theirs through surrogacy. He is still not done digesting the fact that his own sister has volunteered to donate her egg and carry the child to term. It feels all too weird at first, but when he sees the picture of his—their daughter—on Geno's phone, he has never been more thankful. Dressed in tiny hockey gears, bright smile on her face, and clutching a giant penguin plushie in her tiny arms, she is just a ball of sunshine that makes him want to weep. A little bit of Geno and a little bit of him, she is just the perfect little miracle that melts his heart through and through.

And then he wonders to himself, how could I have forgotten my own child, as sweet and as beautiful as her? And all that has accomplished is making him dispose of any doubt he has for keeping his condition under wraps. This whole thing about not remembering is messing with him quite a lot. He can't seem to shake off the gnawing feelings his guts. It grows stronger with more stones being turned, and he can't ignore that something is disproportionately wrong with him. He thinks that it is his body trying to tell him something, that maybe his time as a hockey player is dated. That thought leaves him petrified and that further pushes him to make the most out of whatever time he still has.

He doesn't know what to expect when he pushes the door into the locker room. It smells just as it should be right after every practice session and just as loud too, maybe even louder. The picture of twenty over something men in all states of undress is a comfortable norm to him and for brief moment, he feels at home for the first time since he woke up. He doesn't know why but he comes in, prepared to feel somewhat out of place, but the warm greetings and lame chirps from his teammates give him a sense of familiarity he didn't know he craves until now. It calms him.

Geno is already out of his gear—thankfully with his undershirt still on—when he makes a beeline over to Sidney. He ducks down to give Sidney a chaste kiss on the mouth and hears some of the guys in the room hollering at them to get a room or something along that line and Geno chirping back. He doesn't know what to make of that little display of affection, nor he has the time to, because his mind is still reeling with it as he is being escorted back to Geno's stall. It isn't much, just a brief touching of lips on lips but it is enough to keep him stunned for a bit. The guys don't seem to bat an eye to see their captain and their alternate kiss, which tells him that it may be something of a frequent occurance.

Oh, yes. Of course it does. He just remembered that he and Geno have been married for five fucking years. They are practically one of the old married couples now.

"Sid, talk with Sully okay?" Geno asks and he almost can't hear it when the younger guys throw a couple more dirty chirps their way that comprises of their sex life. Sidney blushes and nods at Geno as a respond before they are once again interrupted, this time by Cully who comes by and gives his back a couple of friendly pats.

"Hey, babe. Good to have you back in one piece. You scared the hell out of a lot of us when you stayed down on the ice, especially your protective Russian bear over here."

"It's true, I can attest to that." Chimes Phil who looks like he has just came out of the shower judging by how his hair matted on his forehead. "You know, this guy here looked about to hurl when you went down and it took three of us to physically stop him from going over to make Niskanen pay."

Sidney chuckles when Geno grumbles disapprovingly at the two babble mouths and to his surprise, he finds Grumpy Geno kind of adorable. "Well, it's really just bad luck that he got me that way. It's just how it is, right? I don't think it was on purpose or anything. It's just ill-timed, is all. I think he left me several texts, probably apologising, but I haven't check them out yet, so."

"Ill-timed my ass! More like perfectly timed to me, man. If he hits any harder, who knows if it's gonna end it for you right there and then, huh? I don't know about you guys, man, but Flower definitely agrees with me, right Flower?"

"Huh?" Flower looks up from his lap where his helmet is on, and takes a few moments looking back and forth between Kuni and Sidney to catch on to what is being asked of him. He tosses a roll of tape onto the bench and smooths his long fringe away from his eyes. "Oh, yeah. For sure, man. Sid, so glad you're okay. What Nisky did was so not cool and I'm gonna make sure he knows that we're very upset with him."

Sidney frowns because Flower is usually not much of an instigator but he must say, he is curious to see what Flower would do to show his dissatisfaction. "Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it. I'm sorry for making you guys worry about me. But hey—it's game four. You guys are gonna kill it tonight, eh?"

"Hell yeah, baby!"

"You bet your gigantic ass we will!"

"We're gonna take this game for you, man!"

"For Sid!"

"Watch and learn, boys. I'm gonna make Ovi cry like a baby tonight."

To say that Sidney is touched by the support from his teammates is an understatement, especially when Horny make his way over without a word and gives him a tight, bone-crushing hug. It lasts longer than any ordinary locker room hugs should be, and probably longer than Geno has liked because it has him practically prying Horny's arms away to end it. When they part, Sidney thinks he caught a glimpse of Horny's watery eyes before he heads out of the locker room. At that moment, he thinks himself as the most privileged guy to be surrounded by these group of good people and he is grateful.

He stays in the room while he waits for Geno to come back. Geno is with Dana in the equipment room, sorting out some issue Geno has on his pair of new skates. Some of the rookies come to him and they talk for a bit, mostly asking how he is doing and talking about how to improve their plays. Shearsy—who is also out for concussion—sits quietly beside him and listens when he comments about Jake's wrist shots.

It is nice to be having these talks with the boys. It makes him feel like he is contributing something to the team, as much as it distracts him from searching for answers that never seem to be there. For what it is worth, apart from being called Mrs Malkin every five minutes or so—all in good fun, of course—the team is still more or less the same. They are still the same driven group and he wants nothing more than to help them achieve their best game, regardless if he is playing or not.

Optimistically, everything will return to normal once he regains his lost memories. But realistically, the brain is quite a fickle thing and God knows what will happen to him in the near future, if his health will deteriorate drastically at some point. Whichever way his health leads him to, he wants to be able to look himself in the mirror and says that he has done everything he can to help his team be the better team.

"Okay, rookies. Time's up. I'm take husband back now."

"Come on, Geno. Don't hog Sid all to yourself, man."

"I'm hog because I'm put ring on it. Now fuck off, Olli."

Geno squeezes himself into the space between Olli and Sidney and pushes Olli's blonde head away. Olli pushes back playfully and it makes Geno loses his balance a little, causing him to land onto Sidney's lap. Sidney catches a lapful of Geno and his hands flies up to Geno's waist on instinct, just as Geno wraps his arms around Sidney's shoulders. He has to bite back a moan when Geno moves to sits himself more comfortable and—probably not deliberately—grinding onto his crotch. He can't help the blush that rises when the rookies give them some horrified scandalous looks.

"Oh, come on. Really? Stop with the foreplay, dude. You know we can't unsee this, right?"

"Don't be baby. You see worse." Geno snarks at Jake as he make a show to tease the watchful eyes around them by tracing his hand slowly down the line of Sidney's spine. Sidney can't help the shiver that wrecks through his body and hides his profile behind of Geno, shielding his blush that is unmistakably colouring his cheeks.

"Ugh, don't remind me. I'm still trying to bleach that image of your naked ass out of my brain."

"Hey, is good ass." Geno counters and defends his ass further when the rookies shakes their head in disbelief. "You not believe me? Wait, I'm show—"

"Yeah, okay. I think we're just gonna go now and leave you two to it. And Sidney, try not to drain too much out of Geno, okay? We kinda need him tonight? Alright. Good talk, team. Dismiss!"

It is amusing to see how fast the rookies can disperse at the threat of seeing Geno's ass. Just in a few minutes time, Sidney finds himself alone with Geno in the room, with Geno still perched comfortably on his lap. He is in no hurry to get Geno off, and he will never admit it to Geno, but he is starting to lose feelings in his legs.

"Sorry for long wait. I'm make sure Dana do job."

Sidney glances up and stunned to have Geno's face just inches away from his. "It's fine, G. New skates, I know how it is."

"Yes. Dana say Sid worse than me."

Sidney shoves him away with a firm push and laughs a little guiltily when Geno lands on the carpeted floor with a thud.

"Hey, why Sid push me? What I'm say?" Geno asks as Sidney straightens his suit and heading for the door.

"Yeah, keep playing dumb, Geno. Come on, I'm hungry. Hurry up or I'm leaving without you." He shouts over his shoulder just as the door closes, and hears Geno chuckling lightly on the other side of the door.

_/_/_/_/

#sidgeno #fanfiction #Love Me If You Will #ariahearthockeywrites #men's hockey rpf

1 note · View note

lexiseigneur · 5 years

Text

Chapter twenty-nine: An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, ...

The anesthetic did not last long enough but the doctors refused to inject her with more, unsure how her physiology would react. So every time they came to flush her eyes with saline, Quinlan would hold her as she screamed herself raw. In between treatments, he murmured in her mind to lull her to sleep.

Quinlan was exhausted. His muscles were weak as though he had been injured himself. Maria entered the bedroom quietly, noticed Lexi finally sleeping and gestured at Quinlan to follow him outside.

As Lexi slept, her head full of nightmares, Quinlan reluctantly stepped out of her room. On each side of the door, Sun Hunters stood watch, including Eva who was biting her nails until none of their white edges were left. No one had asked them to come but still, there they were. Quinlan was thankful.

“The burns on her skin and in her eyes were treated quickly enough that we might avoid long-term damage. I would normally wait an entire day before making a final assessment but it seems her condition has already stabilized. Unfortunately, the trauma has clouded the vitreous humor inside her right eye.”

Quinlan’s hands closed in tight fists. The pain had gone, and there was still grief weighing in his chest but now his body tensed with rising anger.

“We will have to remove that vitreous humor in order to preserve her eyesight on that side. The surgery can be done with general anesthesia or local…”

“General anesthesia,” said Quinlan. “Make her sleep. She doesn’t need to suffer through that as well.”

“Yes…I also thought it would be for the best. We can proceed right away and within two hours, she will be back with you.”

“Yes, there is no point in waiting. Thank you doctor.”

Maria nodded gravely.

“Laura called and she wanted you to know that Emma is fine, just a little shaken. She is asking after you guys. Maybe you can call her when you have a little time?”

“I will.”

But not right now, because his day was far from over. When the doctor walked away, he stared at the Sun Hunters. They stood alert then followed him to the nearest staircase, away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.

“Where is the man who did this?” asked Quinlan.

“We don’t know…in the panic he slipped away but…” said Eva.

She pulled a plastic bag from her pocket.

“I saw him drop this.”

It was a baseball cap sealed in clear plastic. He looked at the woman and the two men accompanying her whose names he now recalled were Trevor and Ash. The three of them were from Lexi’s team.

“This...” – he made a gesture encompassing all of them – “never happened.”

He put the bag in his pocket.

“We came here to keep an eye on our buddies, nothing else. Also, I will be staying here with you in this deserted staircase the entire duration of Lexi’s surgery,” said Eva.

She leaned against the wall and thrust her chin toward the descending stairs. Quinlan ran down with Ash and Trevor on his heels. Out of the building and onto the dark streets they drove away. Quinlan would have preferred being alone but the canals prevented him from moving unassisted. The city was empty. Either the curfew was still in place after the attack or it was too dark for people to get over their fears of the night.

They returned to the courthouse with its metal barricades still present. The wide stone stairs were covered in various garbage, mostly discarded cardboard signs. Quinlan opened the plastic bag and inhaled deeply. The man’s scent was pungent and disagreeable. That person drank and smoked and spent a significant part of his day around car oils and fuel. Quinlan closed the bag and lifted his face to the night air. It took him a long time to disentangle the myriad of scents lingering. The hardest was ignoring Lexi’s. With a sharp twitch of his head, he located the smell he had been looking for. Quinlan indicated the way and those were the only words spoken. His anger grew with the strength of the trail. It led to a building in Hell’s Kitchen. The entire ground level was a mechanic’s shop and above an occupied flat. The windows glowed with flashing lights and shifting colors. Their motions were accompanied by the noises of a television. The smell came from that flat and inside, there was a single heartbeat and the snoring of a large man. Quinlan exited the car and closed the door softly.

“Pick me up in one hour,” he said.

The men drove away without any sign of acknowledgment but Quinlan knew they would be back exactly one hour from now.

In the cluttered flat he found a table displaying the proof of this man’s guilt. There was silver filed into a fine powder and more explosives. Enough raw materials to create a dozen more grenades. Had the man planned more attacks? On the walls were pictures of a smiling woman as well as two young children. But in the various rooms, there was no sign of this woman or of those children. This was a common occurrence. Broken families were the norm now.

This place did not provide the privacy Quinlan craved so he strolled to the sleeping man and hugged his neck. He awoke from his drunken stupor and his struggle was nothing. Utterly pointless. The Dhampir knew exactly how much pressure to apply and for how long. It was trivial when he could rely on the music of the man’s heartbeats as a guide. He hoisted the man on his shoulder and carried him inside the bowels of the city. He knew them well by now.

In those deserted tunnels, the man would not die quickly. He wanted to hate them so Quinlan was happy to offer him a reason to justify his hatred.

For so long his fury had been focused on the Master, it was almost liberating to be about to unleash it against a more accessible target. He never had a reason to resent a human being as he did at this moment. Past his initial anger directed at Hinata, his desire to kill her had been mostly pragmatic. There were also logical reason why this man should die, but right now only rage moved him.

The man was still unconscious, his mouth hanging open and filling the air with the stench of alcohol.

Quinlan thought about what he would do to him. His mind swirled with images of violence and gore. He wanted to do those things, those unspeakable acts, so very badly. Then he paused because he thought about Lexi. When he conjured her face, she was always smiling. But not this time. This time her eyes were judging him, her skin a human pink and her hair dark. You don’t have to be kind, but you do not need to be cruel.

Could he be cruel in her name? To avenge her pain? Of course not. She would want that man to be trialed and sentenced. To face the music, but a lawful music. Quinlan made a decision and took two steps away.

The man moved, regaining his bearings. It was dark and he reached around him, unseeing. He found a wall and tried to stand. Quinlan tried to take another step away, but could not. The rage was back. It made the edges of his vision blurry and grey with the stinking man as the sole focal point,.

“Why?” asked Quinlan.

The man put his back against the wall and flailed his fists around as though this could stop Quinlan.

“Who is here? Where am I?” he screamed.

“The grenade? Why did you do it?”

Quinlan knew why: prejudice, hatred, fear. But he wanted the man to say it.

“Fuck you! I know my rights, I ain’t telling you shit.”

“So be it.”

Quinlan flipped the switch on his right and the tunnel flooded with dim yellow light.

“You!” said the man and he made himself flat against the wall.

Me, thought Quinlan. The demon you should have targeted. Not the sweet soul you maimed, the sweet one who defended you and other wretched humans. The one you never deserved. But me, oh me, you deserve aplenty.

The claws of his stinger clashed together like knives.

“You are a lucky man. Because of the very person you almost took from me, I will not inflict upon you the suffering you deserve.”

The man’s eyes rolled madly, encompassing Quinlan and his surrounding desperately.

“You’re letting me go?” he asked, incredulous.

Quinlan laughed, very loudly and very long. Even to himself, he sounded unhinged.

“No…you are not going anywhere. I was merely stating that you will not suffer as much as I wish before you die.”

He stepped toward the man who slid down against the wall, as though trying to disappear inside of it.

“No, no, no, no! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” screamed the man, his fear increasing with each step Quinlan took.

“No...I don’t believe you truly are,” said Quinlan.

The Dhampir crouched in front of the man and cupped his face in his gloved hands. Then almost lovingly, he pressed his cheek against the human’s and whispered in his ear.

“But you will be.”

***

Back at the hospital, Quinlan ran up the stairs where Eva still waited. When he appeared, she looked at her watch and stretched.

“Welp, I’m glad we had this chat,” she said then returned to the corridor.

Gus and Raul arrived shortly after and soon, the waiting room was filled with men and women, each sporting the small tattoo of a sun on their throats.

Quinlan had had his revenge and the rage had gone. But this time he was not at peace or calm as he had been after killing the Master. Lexi’s pain would not be lessened by his actions. Not caring about the Sun Hunter watching, he took his face in his hands.

***

Quinlan showered in the doctor’s locker room and stole scrubs before shoving his blood tainted clothes in the beat-up washing machine standing in a corner. He used disinfectant on his boots, gloves, and coat whose scent would be strong enough to mask the smell of blood. Then as the machine started its drying cycle, he joined Lexi who was just waking up. Drowsy and confused, she reached for the bandages around her head and pulled on them. Quinlan gently stopped her.

“Not yet. It went well and the doctors think you will recover.”

“I want to leave.”

“As soon as we can…your team is here, do…”

“No.”

There was no reason to insist. She was free to refuse visits.

“Can you come into bed with me?” she asked and lifted the blanket.

Quinlan removed his shoes and slipped under the cover with her.

“Your clothes feel wrong,” she said as she lied on top of his chest.

She always put her ear on top of his heart and he would stroke her hair until one of them fell asleep.

“They are not mine, I stole those.”

She was slipping back into unconsciousness and he stroked her shoulder to keep her awake. When someone knocked at the door she growled. Quinlan got out of the bed and she growled louder and grabbed his hand. He held onto it but still stood to receive the visitor.

“Come in,” he said.

Costello entered and Quinlan was taken aback as he had expected the doctor.

“What do you want?” asked Lexi after sniffing the air.

“The president called me this morning.”

“Why should we care?” snarled Lexi as she turned her back on Costello.

“The president has seen what happened and wants to express his deepest sorrow.”

Lexi sighed and Quinlan was certain that if she would have been capable, she would have rolled her eyes.

“You can be sure that the person who did this will be found and severely punished,” said Costello

Quinlan remained stoic but the beatings of his heart increased a little. He would tell her. He had to tell her. But not now, not as she recovered from her still raw wounds.

“The same way you found those who disfigured three collaborators a few months back? I’m not holding my breath,” said Lexi.

“The police force is still stretched very thin but we will do our best, for both cases. The president also wanted to revisit the conditions he imposed on you regarding Greystone. I think you should hear what he has to say. I can dial right now.”

Why? Quinlan quickly examined all the players involved and how their state of mind would change following this incident. Television teams had been recording for the benefit of the entire world. He thought about the optics that the very scene would create. The Dhampir had not fled the danger. Quinlan had shielded a small, adorable child from the blast and Lexi had been hurt protecting everyone else. After such an event, it would not be unreasonable to assume that Quinlan and Lexi would want to distance themselves from New York. And others who might have decided they were useful monsters to have around would want to take advantage of that fact.

“Is the president afraid we might decide to leave? To try our fortune somewhere else where we would be granted more respect and freedom?”

To his surprise, Costello appeared amused. He thought back to her words the day they had accepted to live in Greystone.

“Could it be that other countries suddenly find themselves welcoming?”

Now she outright laughed but without any trace of joy.

“I told him you’d figure it out right away. He still wanted me to present it like this,” said Costello.

Quinlan was about to answer but Lexi interrupted him.

“I don’t want to hear any more of this.”

“As you wish.”

“Please thank the president for his well-wishes but tell him we are tired and just want to be left in peace. Goodbye.”

Costello shrugged, left a card with a hand-written phone number then left.

***

A bandage still covered Lexi’s eyes when they drove back to Greystone. Maria had given Quinlan a list of instructions for her medical care at home. Since their departure, her silence built a sort of pressure. Quinlan was unsure what it would lead to. She startled when her phone vibrated in her pocket, her heart exploding into a frantic gallop. Lexi put a palm on her chest and breathed deeply. Quinlan glanced at the screen when she took the phone out. There were many texts from names he recognized as Lexi’s team. He was about to propose reading them for her but before he could, she crumpled the small device in her fist and threw the pieces at her feet. Part of Quinlan was tempted to reach through the Bond and probe at her feelings. But if she wanted to share them, she would have done so already.

Two days later, she almost yelped when the landline rang in the living room. She had not spoken since their return, preferring instead to sit in the garden and listen to the forest awakening from a cold winter. Quinlan had called Laura and Emma, as well as Gus so that he may relay to the rest of the Sun Hunters that Lexi was healing but would prefer privacy to do so. Lexi had given no sign that she had listened to those conversations.

With her hands touching every surface ahead, she located the phone. It was situated near the kitchen. Quinlan was much farther away than she was, standing by the stairs that he had just climbed down.

“Are you going to answer that?”

Quinlan knew she would not and did not move when Lexi tore the phone off the wall and reduced it to a mess of plastic and wire. He remained just as immobile when her rage, as blind as she was, pushed her to destroy everything she could reach. The dining table flew and smashed into the library in an explosion of books and loose pages. Then she projected the couch, coffee table, and armchairs against the walls. The plaster covering them cracked into large pieces which came loose and fell into the floor in a cloud of white dust.

She had not made a sound and her thoughts were sealed shut. Out-of-breath, she dropped to her knees and her shoulders rose with each deep inhalation. Her cheeks were flushed white and her fist clenched. Lexi’s mien screamed anger, so he let her be.

Quinlan had no intention of attempting to calm her unless she was amenable to it. He gathered the remains of the coffee table and threw them in the hearth then started a fire. The flames grew and the heaves of Lexi’s chest quieted down. Both the scent and soft cracking of burning wood filled the silence.

“You made a fire? Are you cold?”

Quinlan kicked at the debris from the cabinet where he knew he would find a particular book. The cover, thick leather, had held though a few pages were torn. He threw a blanket on the carpet in front of the fire and sat.

“Join me,” he asked.

She did, tripping over the results of her thrashing. When her hand found his shoulder, he guided her so she could sit between his legs, with her back against his chest. He opened the volume and searched for the second chapter.

“When you get up in the morning start by saying to yourself: Today, I will deal with people who are meddling, ungrateful, arrogant, dishonest, jealous and surly. They are this way because they cannot distinguish good from evil.”

She startled at the first words because he spoke them lowly in his deep rumbling voice. Goosebumps rose where his warm breath touched her skin.

“But I have seen the beauty of goodness and the ugliness of evil, and have recognized that the wrongdoers have a nature related to my own…

“Not of the same blood or birth, but the same mind. And so none of them can hurt me. No one can put ugliness on me.

“Nor can I feel angry at my relative, or hate them. Because we are born to work together like feet, hands, and eyes, like the two rows of teeth, upper and lower. To obstruct each other is unnatural. To be vexed and to turn away: those are obstructions.”

Lexi relaxed and leaned her head back on his shoulder. He deposited a gentle kiss on her temple, just above the bandage covering her eyes. Then he flipped the pages to the sixth chapter, found the sentence he had been looking for and almost did not read it because it would make him a hypocrite. But there was strength in those words that she would relate to better than he could. He spoke them despite his guilt.

“The best revenge is not to become like the wrongdoer.”

Her lips parted and he gave her time to mule over the meaning of this sentence.

“What are you reading?”

“The thoughts of a better man than I will ever be. A great emperor who came into power around the time of my 120th birthday. And a dear friend. Would you like me to stop?”

“No, please go on…as you were, out loud.”

He flipped to the first page and read from the start. It was a translation from Greek and he found some formulations lacking, so he improvised at times when the words diverged too much from what he remembered of their meaning. By the end of the first chapter, they both purred. When a particular sentence or paragraph made her react, he would pause and give her time to appreciate them. At the end of the eleventh chapter, she fell asleep but he read on so that the words, spoken softly, might soothe her dreams.

***

The living room stayed empty for three days until Quinlan finished building a table and took mismatched chairs from the empty bedrooms. Until then they would eat by the hearth on the blanket. There, Quinlan would also read and Lexi would listen. She was still quiet but more thoughtful than angry which he saw as progress in her healing. When he did not read, he still told her stories. He had enough tales in his soul to fill a library and as he slowly repaired the living room, he would tell her about his past and all the wonderful ages and places he had witnessed.

He had already ordered a new phone for her but since she never asked for it, he left in the closet of their bedroom.

Without bothering her about it and with the help of the French prosecutor, Durand, he contacted lawyers in Europe to take possession of several properties he owned. Most had been ceased by their respective states who assumed their owners had perished during the Fall. Thankfully, they had not been so quick when it came to his personal accounts in Swiss banks. Those contained the deeds of his properties as well as comfortable amounts of precious metals, and currency. Thanks to intermediaries hired by Durand, he soon received confirmation that two of his houses in Italy and one in London were mostly intact.

“That’s excellent news, I am very thankful for your aid.”

“It was a pleasure, Mister Quinlan. How is Lexi?” said Durand.

“She is…better.”

“Huh huh…Do tell her thank you on my part. I got a call today of the Minister of Defense. He wanted your contact info but I was quite uncomfortable sharing them without your express approval.”

“I guess the outbreak in Marseille last week prompted her to reach out?”

“Yes…It was a real tragedy. They are desperate.”

“At the moment, Augustin manages those types of inquiries. He already worked similarly at the scale of cities, it wouldn’t be that much different to train a team for the French government.”

“Well, they really wanted you guys but I will pass on the advice.”

“Until Lexi is fully healed, we will not take any such engagements.”

“Yes, of course, I understand.”

***

Several days after the offer by the French government, it was time to remove Lexi’s bandages once and for all. Once her face became bare, she rubbed it.

“It’s good to be free of this thing,” she said.

Her eyes were still shut.

“Do you want to try to look around?”

She caressed her eyelids carefully, with just the tip of her fingers. There was no swelling left and just the faintest irritation running down the stripes on her temples. Where the water and silver had run down as the doctors flushed her eyes.

“What if I still can’t see?”

“Then I will see for you.”

He tipped the image of the living room in the Bond.

“I like what you’ve done with the place.”

Her pupils moved behind stubbornly closed lids. He pushed her hair behind her ears and caressed her cheeks.

“Beloved, open your eyes.”

She held onto his fingers then blinked very slowly. The hazel eyes focused on him. Her pupils were dilated and as they adapted, the left one contracted but the right one stayed open, giving the impression it was now a darker color. Lexi put a hand over each side of her face in turn then her gaze veered down. She was crestfallen.

“The left one is fine but on the right…it’s dim. Like I’m watching you between the threads of a dark cloth.”

Quinlan forced an encouraging smile on his lips. She did not need his disappointment adding to her own.

“Look at me, Lexi. You might still need time to heal.”

She nodded and he knew she could not agree with words because they would be untrue. That night they sat in front of the cold hearth and having postponed this conversation far too long, he asked her what she desired for their future. They had funds and properties to reclaim. It also seemed her native country was amenable to welcoming them.

“I’m not sure. Even if we do go there or to Italy, or to England, we’ll always have the same problem.”

“Blood,” he said.

“I don’t think we will gain true freedom until we fix that issue. I don’t even know that we can fix it at all.”

“Before the Fall, one could buy blood on the black market. Unfortunately, the contacts I had in Europe are long dead. Acquiring it by any other means than donation would grant us the status of pest to be exterminated along with the Strigoi. In time, black markets will arise again and when that happens, we might rely on them as I did in the past.”

“Yes…I guess you’re right.”

Then she observed him and as she did he too was getting accustomed to her now mismatched pupils. She could see again and it was all that mattered. He considered telling her now. What he had done to that man. This was what he had promised himself he would do. But then, he had counted on her regaining all of her sight. So he told himself that he would reveal that secret either when she had completely healed, or when she had finished grieved for that loss.

“You would be entitled to say ‘I told you so’,” Lexi said.

He had been lost in his own thoughts and it took a few seconds to understand what she was referring to. Lexi was talking about his warning against meddling in human affairs.

“Why would I do such a thing?”

“Because you were right. You were right about a lot of things and I get it now.”

“I get no satisfaction from this.”

“I know you don’t. I just want you to remind me of this in the future if I disregard your warnings again.”

Quinlan doubted he would ever abide by that request. He was certain she would regret not doing the right thing more than being punished for it. Lexi picked up the only book resting on the mantelpiece then sat between his legs and against his chest. Finally able to see them, she traced the golden letters of the title and author’s name, Meditations by Marcus Aurelius.

“Can you read it again?” she asked.

Then she smiled and he knew she would be alright. He pulled her tighter against his chest then opened the book. Together, they would be alright.

***

They did not avoid sunlight that day once it arose. With her sunglasses, she peered outside from the window-doors. Birds were coming back from their winter retreats and she had enticed them with seeds. When she began purring softly, sitting crossed legged on the wooden floor; he took a book along and joined her. He was reading A Tale of Two Cities again.

She was growing sleepy and he wanted to propose going to bed when she sat straighter. Lexi jumped to her feet, crossed the room and as she did, bumped into the table with her right hip. She swore.

“You will need a little time to get used your limited field of vision. I’ve known plenty of warriors who learned to manage.”

Lexi appeared too focused to reply. She dug through drawers whose contents were still unknown to her.

“Quinlan, do you know where my laptop is?”

“In the bedroom closet.”

“Thank you!”

She tossed her sunglasses on the couch then ran upstairs. Quinlan was quite satisfied to see her use her Dhampir speed once more though she tripped and growled as she reached the first floor. When she came back and began working on her computer with intense concentration, he observed carefully. He did not want to give her any indication that he was hopeful, or even that he had noticed what she was doing. It might make her stop somehow.

Days later, the dinner table was covered with printed pages. Many of the words on those sheets had Latin or Greek origins and from their amalgam, Quinlan concluded that she was researching how to grow blood outside of a human body. It seemed like an impossible task but Quinlan had to remind himself that there was a time in his life he would have laughed at the idea of soaring through the skies like a bird. Completely engrossed in her research, she sometimes needed reminders to eat and sleep.

“Quinlan! Come see this.”

Abandoning the library he was building in the garage, he wiped his hands to remove the wood dust then joined her in the living room. She showed him an internet page which listed a series of names and their accompanying pictures.

“What is this?”

“I wanted to see if the researchers whose work I was reading were still alive and…Joseph Alaster, the Librarian, made this. It’s a list of scientists, politicians, and others. You can check if they are still alive and if they can continue their work. It’s brilliant really…a way of forming new research teams.”

“Have you found the people you were looking for?”

“Yes, they are all dead. They were blood specialists and I guess their expertise made them too dangerous but that’s not why I called you…”

She typed a few words in the search bar and Quinlan leaned over her shoulder to read them. It was her name. At the top of the results they could read:

Seigneur, Alexandra, Ph.D. Animal behavior, animal physiology, cellular biology, endocrinology, reproductive sciences, immunology. DECEASED.

On the right was her face. The quality was grainy and it looked unofficial, as though cut from a larger picture. It made him uncomfortable. Her demise was not something he liked imagining.

“The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” she said and chuckled.

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Oh no, this is for the best. And this is not me anymore…Alexandra Seigneur died in that bunker.”

Now that she had acknowledged herself the work she had started, he thought she might be amenable to speak about it.

“If those people are dead, do you see yourself finishing their work?”

“It’s far from my area of expertise but they were practically finished. The Master would have spared himself a lot of trouble by letting them continue. But obtaining blood was not his only goal. At the time of the outbreak, they had been conducting trials. Injecting blood they had grown in vats into humans to test its effects.”

From the latest articles spread on the table, he had gathered as much.

“It sounds encouraging,” he said.

“It is…with just the right push, one could resurrect this project.”

“I always found you quite gifted at pushing.”

Lexi ignored his teasing and bit into her thumb pensively.

“I’ve found something else.”

“Yes?”

“Since the Master’s death, blood donations worldwide have been at an all-time low. People die every day from ailments that would have been easily remedied with a transfusion.”

“Humanity as a whole has been traumatized by those events and it is understandable that parting with blood would now stir negative feelings.”

“Yes…and with this research, this might become a problem of the past.”

He racked his fingers through her silvery hair she leaned onto it with a purr. Quinlan was not surprised that this would give her another motivation to revive this project. It made him proud of her in fact, though he did not believe humanity, as a whole, deserved her help. But a few select humans did and she had been neglecting them for far too long.

“If you are feeling better, what do you think about returning to New York? Trainees from Seattle need some sense scared into them. At least that’s what Augustin told me.”

“I would prefer to stay here. It would not be prudent to go back.”

Quinlan disagreed with her. Though her eyesight required her to slow down at times there was nothing stopping her from teaching again. In fact, nothing stopped her from returning calls and texts from her only friends.

“They are all worried about you. Maybe you could use your new phone…”

“I think all of them should worry about their own selves and families. They are the fragile ones, not me.”

“What…”

She shut her laptop with more force than necessary.

“Please, don’t ask me again,” she said and rushed to the window doors.

Before she stepped outside she hesitated.

“Is…is Emma alright?” she asked.

For a moment he considered not answering her question. If she truly desired that information, she could contact Laura herself. Lexi misinterpreted his silence and turned to him with horror on her face. Quinlan now regretted prodding her boundaries. It had been gauche and patronizing.

“She is well and enjoys school once more.”

Lexi leaned against the window and he could tell she was biting back tears. Look what you’ve done, you idiot. In a heartbeat, he crossed the room and embraced her, whispering apologies until she relaxed.

#mr.quinlan #mister quinlan #quinlan #quintus sertorius #the strain #the strain fx #the strain fanfiction #the strain fanfic

1 note · View note

thewalkingdeadimaginings · 6 years

Text

Jump The Gun

Hi babe could you do a imagine with Norm? Now that I know you also take him?😂 so it would take place in the cruise they are actually now and like Norm sees this girl and completley falls for her and he tries to meet her but people or events keep coming up, so like one night there is like a party and they meet there and they have sex 😏😂 but at the end they are willing to dare eachother 💙👏🏼

Ah, I missed the Norman requests. Just for anyone who’s new here or forgot, I’ll write one shots for the actors/actresses too! And I’m ever so slowly getting caught up. I honestly never thought I’d get the amount of requests that I got, ya know? I expected one or two requests once in a while. I’m at 1,500 followers now and I never thought that would ever happen. Never thought I’d have so many people actually excited to read something I’ve written. Honestly, you guys just make me so happy with your nice comments and the messages you send. I don’t think you guys will ever know how much that means to me.

Okay, I’ve been away for several weeks. Yes, I am trash. I was just taking a little break, working on other things. But I recently got a request that was asking for one of those “doing something with a certain character would include” type imagines. Is that the new imagines now on Tumblr? I follow a blog that does that but I didn’t know it was becoming more and more popular. I’ll try to do it but I can’t guarantee that I’ll be good at it so…be kind when that one comes along haha.

I’ve never been on a cruise before and I’ve never been on the walker stalker cruise so the stuff I mention in this one shot is kind of a guess so if I get anything incorrect, I’m sorry haha. I did all the research I could so I tried. But honestly, we’re not here for accuracy…shit…are we here for that? I’m not sure if the cast actually ate in the same dining area place thing as everybody else but I hate the idea of them having to isolate themselves in their rooms just to eat so I came up with something else. If you notice any inaccuracies, please be kind haha.

NSFW: smut

You’d worked on many cruises before but you’d never worked on the Walker Stalker cruise. It was pretty exciting to see some members of the cast appearing there although you couldn’t enjoy it too much as you had to work for parts of it. Luckily, your work was mostly morning and afternoon shifts so you had the evening to see what all the fuss was about.

The first day, you and your staff were busy getting the dining room ready for all the passengers. As the dining room manager, you were used to running around and thinking quick on your feet. And you only had a few hours left to make sure everything was perfect when all the guests and the cast members arrived. Being the manager, it all reflected on you.

While the main dining room was being taken care of, you went to the separate area where the cast could dine in peace to make sure everything was on schedule as well. The cast would be boarding the ship first and you needed everything to be even better than perfect. The staff could tell you were getting a little frazzled.

“Hey, it’s gonna be great,” one of the buffet servers remarked, “I’ve heard nothing but great things about the cast members of this show. I don’t think they’ll give us a hard time.”

“Yeah,” one of the busboys said in agreement, “I doubt they’ll freak out if there’s a fork in the wrong spot on the table.”

“Uh-huh,” you muttered, only half listening to what they were saying, “Look, we’ve got like…fifteen minutes. I’m sorry, we can all have a group chat later, okay? And I swear, I’m not normally this bitchy. Once this is all set up and finished, I’m actually really nice.”

Finally, everything was to your liking and everyone was in their place as you got word that the cast members had boarded and might be heading into the dining room for lunch before everyone else arrived. You started to panic but your staff was handling it so well, you didn’t really have to give anyone too much direction. You tried to stay behind the scenes but you found yourself helping the buffet servers and the servers. Especially when the other passengers started boarding and entering the main dining room. You went back and forth between them and the cast.

“Hey,” one of your waitresses stopped you halfway back to the kitchen, “Y/N, you know that Norman Reedus is here?”

“I mean, I would assume he would be,” you chuckled, “Why do you say that?”

“He’s been staring at you since he walked in,” she replied, gesturing to his table. When your eyes met his, he instantly looked back down at his plate, his cheeks turning red. The waitress giggled and nudged you, “You should go over there, a nice little hello from the dining room manager, yeah?”

“I would but I don’t think I have time,” you said.

“Oh please,” she said, “You’ve been a great help to us but we can take it from here, boss. Go get some.”

The waitress took the empty tray from your hands and hurried to the kitchen before you could protest. You’d been so busy and the cast had been so quiet and polite, you hadn’t really noticed them too much. You approached the table, finding yourself more nervous than you thought you would be. Jeffrey Dean Morgan was trying to get Norman’s attention when he realized you were coming towards their table. It seemed to just make Norman more nervous as he started fidgeting. You couldn’t believe that you hadn’t noticed how good looking he was. He was rugged and toned, the sleeves of his shirt hugging every curve and highlighting every muscle in his arms. Norman finally looked up to meet your gaze, a tiny smile on his lips.

But before you could reach his table, a busboy stepped in front of you, an urgent look in his eyes, “Y/N, I hate to bother you but there’s a problem in the kitchen! You’ve gotta come quick!”

You glanced at Norman, whose smile faded. The disappointment was relatable. You sighed heavily and hurried to handle whatever problem the kitchen was having. After that was settled, you came back to an empty table. Norman and the others had left already.

“Damn,” you said to yourself. You had only intended to say hello and ask how they liked everything, not really anticipating talking to Norman one on one. The disappointment really surprised you.

Your shift was over not too long after that. The closing manager relieved you and you could head back to your room. After the long day you had, you were looking forward to a glass of wine and a nice long soak in the bathtub.

As you headed towards your room, you passed right by Norman and Jeffrey walking by. Your heart skipped a beat as you came to a stop, the two men stopping with you. You smiled, “I didn’t have a chance to ask you how you liked your meal earlier.”

Norman opened his mouth to speak but this time, he was the one to be interrupted, “Jeffrey! Norman! There you are! We’ve gotta get going! We’re kinda in a rush here.”

With a sigh, Norman walked off with Jeffrey, leaving you even more disappointed than before. You just couldn’t get a break. It was probably stupid to try and even get close to him. Just because he was on this cruise didn’t mean he had all the time in the world to relax. Unfortunately, you both had jobs to do while you were here.

The next day was much less hectic than the first day but you were told that Norman, Jeffrey and Greg Nicotero would be doing a panel later in the evening. Since you weren’t working, you figured you should go and see it. You couldn’t get a chance to talk to him personally but this way, you would at least get a feel for the kind of person he was. These missed opportunities to get to know him drove you mad, the curiosity killing you. Did it even matter if you actually talked to him? If him staring at you meant as much as the waitress implied it did? If there was some sort of attraction there, what difference would it make? He was a famous actor and you were just a dining room manager for cruise ships.

You could still be curious though.

The panel was so entertaining. Norman had such a close friendship with Jeffrey and with Greg and the interaction with the audience felt so genuine. Halfway through, although you were towards the back, it felt like Norman had caught you and he couldn’t take his eyes off you. It might’ve just been in your head. With the hundreds and hundreds of people attending this panel, he could’ve been looking at anyone. It probably wasn’t you.

The moment the panel was over, the crowd dispersed. You were kind of being dragged along the crowd, though you were trying to break free to get back to your room. Jeffrey and Greg were walking off the stage and Norman lagged behind a little, scanning the crowd. Was he looking for you? Couldn’t be. But once he laid eyes on you, he paused, as if contemplating venturing into that crowd. He took a few steps in your direction before Jeffrey stopped him, whispering something in his ear. Norman frowned but turned and walked off with Jeffrey. Why couldn’t either of you get it together?

There were meet-and-greets, photo ops, more panels, and countless meals in the dining room but you’d given up on actually seeing Norman. Every time you had the chance to talk, someone needed your attention or Norman had to be somewhere fast.

You were thankfully getting the next two days off in a row and you planned on spending them in your room doing nothing. That was easier than constantly having a chance to talk to Norman and having it taken away again.

One of the buffet servers that you’d befriended this past week, named Cynthia, was in your room with you enjoying a glass of wine. She poured herself a second glass as she brought you the other glass, “Y/N, are you coming to the party tonight?”

“Doubt it,” you muttered.

“Oh come on,” Cynthia whined, “It’ll be fun! And you don’t have work tomorrow. So why not?”

“Just don’t feel in a partying mood,” you said.

“I can’t believe you’re letting this famous dude that you haven’t actually had a conversation with get you down,” Cynthia replied, “Just forget about all that and have some fun. We can pre-game it!”

“Pre-game it?”

“Yeah!” Cynthia exclaimed. She gestured to the bottles of hard liquor with a mischievous grin, “Would showing up tipsy be a terrible thing?”

A few shots later, you felt so much looser and more relaxed, eager to get to this party Cynthia took you to. You had a nice buzz going but were still sober enough to be aware of what was going on and to have conversations without slurring.

“See?” Cynthia said, patting your back, “It’s a good time, right?”

You nodded, “I’m gonna get a drink before my buzz wears off.”

“Okay, I’m gonna head to the bathroom,” Cynthia said, “I’ll join you at the bar in a bit.”

The two of you parted ways and you found a spot at the bar with two open seats. You sat down, saving the second for Cynthia as you ordered yourself a drink. You sipped on your drink happily, your head swimming. You’d forgotten all about your frustrations this past week. At the moment, his name was fuzzy in your mind.

At least until he took a seat next to you at the bar. You hadn’t even realized it was him until he spoke, “I thought I’d never get a chance to see you.”

“Hm?” you squeaked, nearly choking on your drink as you set your glass down to look at him. You swallowed hard, “Oh! It’s you! It’s…”

“Shh,” Norman whispered, pressing his chubby finger to your lips, “I’m trying to keep a low profile. No one has realized I’m here yet.”

“Tomorrow is the last day,” you said, “Kinda pointless to try and talk to each other now, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so,” Norman said. He opened his phone for a second and gave you a nod, “We have another…twelve or thirteen hours until we have to get off this ship. I know we haven’t had much of a chance to talk but…it’s not from a lack of trying I can tell you that.”

“I know,” you said, “We’re always so busy.”

“Not busy now,” Norman said. He reached out and tucked your hair behind your ear, “And…since we’re so short on time, I’ll say it. Since I saw you in the dining room that first day, I can’t get you out of my head.”

“Wow,” you said softly, “Really?”

Norman nodded, “I tried to get close to you but something always came up. Thought I’d have a chance after the panel but I had to go somewhere else right after. It was always something.”

“I know the feeling,” you said, “So, now that we have no interruptions…what do we do?”

“We could go somewhere quiet,” Norman said.

“Let’s go out on the deck for a while,” you replied, pressing your hand against your forehead, “It’s getting hot in here.”

Norman took your hand and walked you out of the party. Stepping out into the cool breeze, you took in a deep breath, closing your eyes at the soothing air against your warm skin. Norman found a spot on the deck for the two of you to take a seat and relax for a moment. His flushed cheeks made it obvious he’d had a few drinks too. But you were both coherent, just too nervous to say anything.

“This is silly,” you said finally, “Why are we so…uneasy around each other?”

“I don’t know,” Norman said, “Ever since I saw you in the dining room that first day, I just wanted to get close to you. But…I never actually thought about what I would do or say when that actually happened. Everyone kept pulling me away or you away, I thought it would never happen.”

“I get it,” you chuckled, “I didn’t think it would either. But I’m intrigued. Is…is there a point though? Pursuing something?”

“Why wouldn’t there be a point?”

“Because tomorrow, it’s over,” you said, “Everyone gets off this ship, I go home, and you go off to the next event. We only have tonight.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Norman said, “I know we technically only just met but why give up on it before it can even start?”

Norman was looking at you but you refused to tear your gaze from the ocean view in front of you, “Because it seems like…maybe fate was trying to keep us apart all this time for a reason. I know that sounds crazy. We don’t run in the same circles, not even close.”

“So?” Norman said, “If I cared at all about the circles we ran in, I wouldn’t have given two shits about who you were.”

“You don’t even know my name.”

“Who says I don’t?” Norman retorted, “It’s Y/N.”

“How the hell did you know that?” you asked, whipping your head to look at him.

“I asked one of the waitresses about you the day I saw you,” he said, his already pink cheeks turning even pinker, “That makes me look really bad, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all,” you laughed. You scooted closer to him until your body was pressed up slightly against his, “I find it…sweet. And flattering that you were interested.”

“I wasn’t sure what to expect,” Norman continued, “The kind of person you would be when I finally talked to you.”

“And?” you said, your face inches from his.

Norman leaned in a little closer, “I wasn’t disappointed.”

Your lips finally met and a sigh escaped your lips as he kissed you. You could taste the whiskey on his tongue and it made your heart race. Norman let a groan out as his kiss deepened, his hands gripping onto your hips. His fingernails scraped against your jeans, his lips grazing your jawline, breath hot against your skin.

Norman’s kisses and his wandering hands left you in a haze that you couldn’t get a full sentence out. You could only get two words out but they were enough for Norman to understand, “Your room.”

His breath hitched as he grabbed your hand once more to lead you across the deck. You pulled your hand from his grip and wrapped your arms around him, placing kisses on his cheek, teeth grazing his jaw. Norman groaned, turning momentarily to kiss you.

“Patience,” he whispered against your lips, “We’re almost there.”

As expected, the cast’s rooms were separate from the rest of the passengers and were exquisite, though you didn’t have much of a chance to take in the beauty of the room. Not with Norman standing there, immediately crashing his lips into yours the moment he shut the door. But you did notice the softness of his sheets when the two of you fell into his bed. You giggled as he kissed down your chest, his facial hair scratching your skin. You ran your fingers through his long dark hair as he unbuttoned your blouse, kissing down your body. Your breath trembled as he tugged your pants down your legs. You bunched his hair up in your fists as his thick fingers hooked your underwear and slid them down.

Norman mumbled something incoherently as he sat back up momentarily, leaning in to kiss you. You felt his quivering fingers slide up your thighs, whimpering against his lips as his fingers reached your heat, circling your clit slowly, torturously. He pulled away from your kiss, his fingers pressing a little harder to hear your soft moans. Pushing you back down onto your back, he lowered, kissing your hip bone as he slid his fingers inside of you. Finally, he buried his face between your legs, his tongue practically attacking your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you. Arching your back, you tangled your hands in his hair. Your jaw dropped but tried your best not to make a sound. Small grunts and whines came out as Norman’s tongue and fingers moved quicker, more aggressively.

“N-N-Nor…Norman,” you whimpered. You felt the buildup in your body, almost painful but in the most wonderful way. Norman, feeling your walls tightening around his fingers, pulled away which left you aching. You sat up, breathing heavily as you watched him stand and undress himself.

“You’re stunning,” he said under his breath as he tossed his shirt across the room. He beckoned you closer to him as he undid his belt buckle. You eagerly obliged, your legs still shaking as you shifted to the end of the bed. Brushing his fingers through your hair, he dropped his jeans, stepping out of them and kicking them away. You didn’t need him to say a word, placing kisses on his stomach, your tongue gliding along the sensitive skin above his waistband. Norman’s tongue darted across his lips, waiting in anticipation. You felt his hands shaking in your hair and you simply smirked, pulling his boxers down as slowly as you could.

“Just returning the favor,” you teased. Taking him in your hands, you gripped him firmly, stroking his shaft, lowering after a few moments and you swirled your tongue around the head, sending shivers through Norman’s body. As you took him in your mouth, bobbing your head, you heard his grunts and cries. You relished in the way his body tensed around you, every sound the came from him, even the pain of him just slightly pulling your hair.

“Stop,” he said, stepping away from you, “Scoot back, I’m not done.”

With an excited grin, you jumped back, your body buried in the pillows as Norman crawled back into bed. He pushed your legs back until your knees were pressed against your chest. With his hands pressed against the back of your thighs to keep your legs up, he slowly pushed into you, groaning out loud as your walls squeezed him. He released your legs and you instantly wrapped them around his waist, pulling him deeper into you. He fell forward, his hands at each side of your head as he began to thrust in and out. Your vision was hazy, your senses numb to everything but the pleasure Norman was overwhelming you with. You found yourself scratching down Norman’s back, which just made him thrust even harder, grunting and groaning every time he slammed back into you.

Norman paused, helping you sit up in bed. You sat on your knees as Norman turned your body around, his chest against your back. He wrapped his arms around your body, his hands massaging your breasts as he entered you again. Kissing the back of your neck, he rolled your nipples between his fingers, smirking against your skin as you moaned, slamming your hands on the headrest to keep your balance.

“Y/N,” he muttered, his thrusts becoming sloppy and erratic, his groans coming out louder as he buried his face in your neck. One of his hands slid down your body back to your heat, his fingers making quick, deep circles around your clit.

You lost control, crying out as you came hard, your body tensing, your walls contracting, and your hips rolling against Norman on their own. Norman’s arm around you was the only thing keeping you upright as you rode out your high, pushing your hair back as you cursed under your breath. Your orgasm set Norman’s off, squeezing your body tightly against him as he filled you and the two of you stayed in that position for a while to catch your breath.

“Good god, Norman,” you panted. The two of you finally fell back into bed, getting comfortable under the covers. Norman pulled you in, his arm around your shoulder.

“Goddamn right,” Norman said, taking a deep breath. He kissed the top of your head, “I’m not sure I can say good-bye to you, Y/N.”

You would’ve had a response for that, but sleep was pulling you in too fast. Norman didn’t seem to mind as he was falling asleep too. You couldn’t imagine having to part ways tomorrow morning. Would it be the last time you saw him? Was his only intention to have sex with you and then be on his way? You weren’t sure you wanted to find out.

A headache awaited you when you woke up the next morning, just a tad hungover from last night despite not having too many drinks. You could still feel Norman’s warmth surrounding you and you lifted your head to find him still fast asleep. His hair was all over the place, covering almost his entire face. You supported yourself on one elbow, reaching over to brush the hair from his face. He was a gorgeous man, so peaceful in his sleep. With a laugh, you leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose.

“What are you doing?” Norman asked teasingly, startling you. He opened his eyes, staring at you with those beautiful blues.

“Nothing,” you said, “You were just so cute. I had to steal a kiss.”

“On my nose?” Norman said.

You kissed the tip of his nose again, “It is rather cute. I should probably get back to my room. We’ll have to get off the ship soon.”

“I know,” Norman said. He rolled over to grab his phone from the nightstand, unlocking it and placing it on your lap, “Will you put your number in there for me?”

“Really?” you said.

“Of course,” Norman replied, “Why do you look so surprised?”

“I just…I wasn’t sure if this was a…a one night stand or whatever,” you mumbled, nervously typing your number into his phone.

“That’s not what I wanted at all,” Norman said, “I want all of you, Y/N. I know you think that with our schedules, it won’t work but we should at least try. I think it’ll be worth it, Y/N. I think this is something worth pursuing, don’t you?”

“We barely know each other,” you said.

“Then we’ll get to know each other,” Norman argued. He chuckled as he got out of bed, “I know we jumped the gun a little but does that have to ruin something that could be great?”

You smiled, clutching the blanket against your body, “I guess not.”

“Good,” Norman said, “Then, I’d like to officially ask you on a real date.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to go after this is over?” you said.

“I do,” Norman replied, “Come with me.”

“What?!” you exclaimed.

“You have another job right after this?” Norman asked.

“No…”

“Then won’t you come with me, Y/N?”

“I…” you paused as Norman sat back in bed, tucking your hair behind your ears. There wasn’t a reason for you to decline. Norman did have a good point, you couldn’t possibly give up the chance of something great. Your heart broke at the thought of being away from him. You wanted a little more time with him, even if it was just a few days. A long distance relationship would be difficult but Norman had such faith in it, he made it feel a lot less scary, “Yes, yes I’ll go with you.”

“And then we can go on that official date,” he said, grinning as he placed a light kiss on your lips, “Take you to a nice dinner, wine and dine you.”

“Stop,” you laughed, your cheeks turning bright red, “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said, kissing you again, “I want to.”

You got lost in his kiss, wrapping your arms around him. As his hands started to roam your body, you reluctantly pulled away, “If we don’t get up now, we’ll never get off this ship.”

Norman glanced at the clock on his nightstand and then jumped back into bed, hovering above you, “We’ve got at least an hour and a half before we have to go. Think of what we could do in that time.”

You bit your lip as Norman tore the covers off your naked body, tracing your collarbone with his fingers. You pushed his hair away from his face, “I can only imagine the possibilities.”

YOU ARE ALL SO PATIENT AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT. I don’t deserve you guys. BUT HERE YOU GO I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS 😊

#Norman Reedus #Norman Reedus one shot #Norman Reedus smut #one shot #fanfiction #Imagines #Norman Reedus Imagines

174 notes · View notes

taekookismylifeline · 6 years

Text

(yoonseok) - trust my heart when it beats for you

ao3: (x)

Summary: Jung Hoseok has had an awkward Thing for Min Yoongi for four years of his school life. He is certain that the only thing that gets in the way of them and everlasting love is the fact that Min Yoongi doesn't know he exists, but that all changes due to one drunken text message: a pick-up line. Ready to flee to another country under a false identity in mortification, he finds himself ruining their blossoming friendship and confessing when Yoongi asks why Hoseok had tried to flirt with him. However, things take a turn after his confession when Yoongi starts to (awkwardly) flirt back.

Pairings: Yoonseok, Taekook and Namjin

Chapters: (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8), (9), (10), (11), (12)

Chapter Thirteen - look at me like you used to. i miss it. i miss you

Yoongi hadn’t expected a response and he didn’t receive one. Morning dawned bright and early on Monday morning which contrasted heavily with the trepidation churning inside of his stomach. The first thing he did was check his phone as he did every other morning but his routine was dismantled when seeing no messages from Hoseok fill up his notification wall.

He shouldn’t have been so affected, he knew this, but he was. Hoseok had managed to break in and occupy a space in his heart in barely a span of three weeks. He wasn’t sure if he was just easy to break as a person or if he was simply made to be broken by Hoseok. It was just cruel that the only person who could make him feel something more, supply him with a whole new range of emotions, was the one who he had to push away.

Even Jeongguk hadn’t messaged him, but Namjoon had. ‘Hey, how’d it go yesterday?’ He couldn’t bring himself to reply.

He got ready for school and took the bus as usual, blocking out the ruckus of the children in the years below him with his music, music that he and Hoseok had shared a mutual interest in. Yoongi had to shake himself, bringing him away from his thoughts by looking at his phone and finally replying to Namjoon, he was talking about Hoseok as if he were dead which was definitely not the case when he would be seeing Hoseok in first lesson.

Oh crap. A double period alone with Hoseok was the last thing that he needed right now. Due to his sudden state of panic his composed message to Namjoon came out a little more desperate than he had wanted. ‘awful. Can you kill me please so I don’t have to suffer two hours with H?’

He received a reply almost immediately. He climbed down from the bus before opening the message, keeping his head down as he walked into school. ‘whoa, what happened? Did he do something?’

Yeah, Yoongi thought to himself, he made me realise how crappy of a person I am. He didn’t dare type this out, though, for he knew that he would be on the receiving end of a pep talk. He detoured and took a route away from the basketball court as he knew that was where Hoseok met up with his friends at the beginning of school, and more recently at breaks and lunch, too.

‘It wasn’t him, it was me. It’s easier just to forget about all the romantic stuff, it’s too much pressure. I messaged him this and he didn’t reply and I have 2 hours of History with him in the morning.’

Namjoon must have been waiting on the chat for a response because he messaged back straightaway. ‘I’m almost there. Meet you at the bench around the back?’ And so he did, Namjoon approached him a few minutes afterwards. Yoongi didn’t think he had ever felt so much relief; Namjoon was advice and support personified, and that was all he needed right now.

“So, tell me, what’s brought this on?” Namjoon asked once he had sat down. “Last week you were all about this, talking to Hoseok all the time to see if you felt that way about him, and now you meet up and suddenly nothing? What happened?” How could Yoongi have forgotten? Along with support and advice came an intrinsic sense of knowing that Yoongi had something to hide.

Yoongi shrugged, trying to meet Namjoon’s searching eyes. “Nothing, really. It’s just... I don’t know, I don’t really know anything about Hoseok.” That part wasn’t true at all, Hoseok had been more than happy to spill his entire life story to Yoongi. Yoongi now knew all of the spats between Hoseok and Taehyung that Hoseok could recall, and also precious memories of his childhood, like how his mum had purchased an assortment of stuffed toys for him but then found out they would be worth a lot in the years to come so he was banned from touching them. “I figured that even if I date Hoseok, we wouldn’t last; Hoseok will find someone else.”

Namjoon surveyed him before turning away to look at the vast field of grass in front of them. “How do you know that?” He asked softly. “I don’t believe that in the last week you’ve learnt nothing about Hoseok. If that were true then he wouldn’t mean anything to you, but he obviously does seeing as you asked me to kill you so you don’t have to face him.” He cracked a smile, Yoongi stared intently at the ground, hating that Namjoon could see right through him. “So, please, tell me what happened.”

Yoongi exhaled harshly through his nose, so harshly that it made his eyes water. “He kissed me,” he muttered. Namjoon nodded as if he had foresaw this event, which wouldn’t be particularly surprising. “Afterwards I knew that I wouldn’t be enough for him, he’d move on easily, so I told him that we should stick to being friends. It’s simpler that way.”

“Simpler for who?” Namjoon turned on him, making him feel trapped. His chest restricted and it was difficult to draw breath. “I don’t see how this could be easier for you. I know you, Yoongs. You’re in deep and I can tell that Hoseok’s made an impression on you. If you really felt only friendship for him, you wouldn’t have let him kiss you. You’re a good guy, too good to lead someone on which – without giving him the real reason – it looks like you have.”

A surge of self-loathing ran through him, twisting his insides and mangling them together. It was typical of him to do something which he thought to be right only to have it blow up in his face. He had undoubtedly hurt Hoseok with his selfish actions, allowing Hoseok to kiss him and then to rip himself away, lying through his teeth and saying that Hoseok meant nothing to him, nothing more than a friend.

Yoongi valued friendship, of course he did. Friendship was an important part of his life after he had learnt that he couldn’t breeze through life solo, he needed companionship. He was happy to have Hoseok as a friend, blessed even, but he wanted something more. He wanted heated glances, a singular touch or a glimpse of revealed skin to ignite a passion in his veins, he wanted to be looked at like nothing could replace him.

He wanted to be Hoseok’s and he wanted Hoseok to be his.

This revelation should have been startling, but he wasn’t the least bit shocked. This conclusion must have been thrumming under his skin, one with his flesh and blood.

“Oh, I fucked up,” he admitted.

Namjoon chuckled and shook his head. “You did what you thought was right.”

“Yeah, which was wrong.” He ran his hands over his face. “Tell me what to do. How do I fix this?”

“Do you know what you want?” Namjoon asked him in a serious tone.

“Yes.” Hoseok, he added silently. “How do I tell him?” Now time was creeping forwards, he was avidly aware of how close he was to being near Hoseok again. That thought alone was enough to thrust his heart into a frenzy.

“That’s up to you. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to write a script,” Namjoon lightened the mood slightly. “You just need to express yourself clearly. You’re good at writing your thoughts out, but you’re also good at free-styling. You should be fine.” And with those words of wisdom, the school bell rang, initiating the jittering of Yoongi’s nerves.

“Thank you,” he said just as Jeongguk jogged over to them, his school bag rocking dangerously on his shoulder and a grin practically bursting off of his face.

“Guys, guys, I have so much to tell you!”

“You’re gonna have to save it, I’m afraid,” Namjoon stood up and grinned. “You can tell us at break, I’m thinking that Yoongi will have some news for us by then.”

Jeongguk shot him a curious glance but apparently he was too elevated by his own news, most certainly about Taehyung, to inquire as to what Namjoon was talking about.

Registration seemed to drag on but the last few minutes sped by and suddenly Yoongi was signing in for History and had positioned himself in the library in the same seat where Hoseok had invited him out after school. It seemed like much more than a week had passed and he felt like he had aged considerably since then, or perhaps it was because he was devoid of Hoseok’s youthful energy.

Hoseok took a considerably long time to show his face at the library but when he did Yoongi wished that he hadn’t made an appearance at all. A paranoid fear took hold of him, gripping at his lungs causing his breathing to be limited. He kept his eyes glued to the keyboard when he sensed a figure place itself onto the couch. The only thing he expected was to hear the pounding of his rapid heartbeat and the stilted typing of the keys, he did not plan on Hoseok clearing his throat and addressing him.

“So, Yoongi.” Hoseok’s voice did not sound calm at all, if anything it sounded slightly hysterical, with his voice breaking at the end of his speech. Yoongi steeled himself before flicking his eyes over to Hoseok. He was smiling. Painfully. Almost comically. “I just want to tell you that I received your message and it was awfully rude of me not to reply.”

Yoongi felt his eye twitch. ‘Awfully rude’? Was the Hoseok in front of him from another dimension where it was the norm to use speech from the 18th century? “It’s okay, I didn’t expect you to,” he said honestly, hoping that upon hearing him speak Hoseok would drop the terrifyingly wide and unnatural smile that littered his face. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that-” Before he even got the chance to pluck the next sentence from his heart and breathe it into the air, Hoseok interrupted him.

“It’s okay, Yoongi. I understand! You said it yourself, you don’t like me like that, and if I weren’t too respect that, I would be an idiot. So, from now on, there’s to be no more flirting, or kissing, or anything like that, okay?” Now Hoseok didn’t look as comical, Yoongi saw through it to find that he looked dejected. Yoongi was sure that his heart had just folded inside out as an agonising fire spread throughout his chest as he saw the turmoil in the darks of Hoseok’s eyes.

“I’ll get used to it, I’ll get over it! So, I wanted to tell you that I’m more than happy to be friends, after all, we have to spend a whole year together!” Hoseok sounded convinced. He sounded fine with the fact that their ambiguous relationship would be labelled as friends and nothing more, even though he had been the one to tell Yoongi that he liked him, told him that he was beautiful. It hurt. He hurt.

Hoseok offered him his hand, Yoongi stared down at it listlessly. Hoseok’s words were still resonating in his ears, scraping against his ear canal.

“You haven’t changed your mind again, have you?” Hoseok laughed, but it was nothing like his usual laugh which was loud and filled with good feeling. This laugh was stale, cold and cruel. Just like the air of the bus stop in which he had ripped himself away from Hoseok. “Friends?”

He blinked away the tears forming in his eyes, blurring his vision. Hoseok’s hands were soft in his, and cold, it was as if he was still standing at the bus stop and Yoongi were in the protective layer of the bus, feeling trapped by his own self-loathing.

“Friends.”

If Hoseok heard the wary defeat of Yoongi’s voice, he didn’t comment on it. Hoseok snatched his hand away once it had felt Yoongi’s warmth.

Yoongi found himself wishing for the cold that Hoseok carried, just to have a part of him.

#yoonseok #yoonseok fanfiction #yoonseok fanfic #yoonseok fic #sope #sope fanfiction #sope fanfic #sope fic #taekook fanfic #taekook fic #namjin fanfic #slow burn #bts angst #bts fanfic

18 notes · View notes

takadasaiko · 6 years

Text

Such Great Heights (a Wynonna Earp fanfic)

FFN II AO3

Summary: Everything looks perfect from far away, but the closer she looks the more cracks in that perfect façade Wynonna finds.

Part Two

The Sheriff's station was surprisingly empty as Willa made her way in that early afternoon, a hot tea in hand and she hadn't dared pick up a coffee for Wynonna. She knew herself well enough to just avoid the temptation. No alcohol and no caffeine. She'd forgotten how cranky being pregnant could make her.

"Hey, sis, what are you doing here?"

The eldest Earp sister turned to find Waverly standing at the front desk, leaning on it a little as if she had been chatting with Nicole before she'd interrupted. "I was looking for Wynonna."

"Oh, she and Dolls are out tracking down a lead on one of Wynonna's special cases," Waverly answered. "Something about a judge using kids to work illegal angles or something."

"She's been working more and more of those cases lately. You guys get the demons under control?"

"Dirtbag and demon aren't exactly mutually exclusive," Nicole pointed out. "The guy had some serious ties to Revenants back in the day."

"Anyway, I thought you wanted to stay away from all the Earp stuff," Waverly teased.

"Hey, I served my time with it. Daddy thought I'd be the Heir until you came along and Peacemaker all but flew into your hand."

Waverly gave a small smile and ducked her head. Willa reached out, playfully pooping her on the shoulder. "What did Mama always say? Everything has a purpose. You ended the curse and we're all free because of it. Grace too. Anyway, they used to come after all of us. Could you even imagine Robert fighting a demon?"

"I'm kind of surprised he even believes in all of the supernatural," Nicole murmured thoughtfully. "Most people I meet that are from Purgatory are all but brainwashed into ignoring everything that is happening around them."

"He's always been pretty open minded about it." Even so, Willa had plenty to be grateful for in that he'd never been dragged into the fight. He was a stubborn man and loyal as hell. He would have tried to do anything he could to help protect her, and it would have gotten him killed in the end. No, Mama was right, things work out as they should.

"Should I tell Wynonna you're looking for her?" Waverly asked, her voice a little hesitant as she pulled her older sister out of her thoughts.

"I'll catch up with her. She's just going to get the news second."

"What news?" Then it seemed to click. "Oh! You had you ultrasound today! Did you find out?"

Willa's grin only grew. "We did. Grace is having a baby brother."

Waverly squealed. "Have you picked out a name yet? Greyson maybe? Or is that too close? Maybe that's too close."

"Actually Robert and I like the name Wyatt."

The youngest Earp sister paused, her eyes growing just a little bit wider and her voice was soft when she spoke. "I like it."

Willa pulled in a steady breath. "Good, because I was going to ask if you'd be Wyatt's godmother."

Waverly blinked at her, her expression blank. "What? You want me to be…."

"Wynonna is Grace's, so it just seemed… right that you should be Wyatt's. I mean, you are kind of the keeper of all the family history and with us naming him Wyatt-"

"Yes!" Waverly squeaked. "Yes! Of course! I just thought… nevermind what I thought, yes! Wait, what's his middle name? Is it going to be Earp? Or would that be overdoing it just a little?"

A laugh escaped and she shook her head. "We haven't gotten that far yet. Probably not though." Her hazel gaze flickered over to Nicole. "We're asking you too, Nicole. I know you guys haven't tied the knot yet, but you're family."

Nicole's smile stretched. "Definitely. You know I love you guys."

"You hear that, Wyatt?" Waverly asked. "I'm not just Auntie Waverly anymore. I'm your godmother."

Willa groaned dramatically, swatting at her younger sister. "Gah… don't make me regret this," she teased, but suddenly she was being dragged forward as Waverly wrapped her arms around her tightly.

"I love you, sis."

"You too, Waves. Just… keep it quiet until I tell Wynonna? I promised her she'd be the first to know."

"I think she'll forgive you. Anyway, won't Robert tell her?"

Willa tilted her head in question. "Why would Robert tell her?"

"That's where they are, over at his school following up on some of the rumours about the judge," Nicole explained, glaring at the phone on the desk that started to ring.

"I need to get going," Willa offered. "Did you ever decide on a date for that announcement party?"

"I'm thinking the beginning of next month."

"Just let me know. I'll clear Shorty's for you and we'll get Doc to decorate. Who knew the man had a hidden talent?"

Waverly grinned at her and Willa offered her another quick hug before waving goodbye to Nicole who had the longest-suffering look on her face as she told whoever was on the other end of the phone that, again, this was the sheriff's office, not the bakery. Just another day in Purgatory.

It was amazing how certain judgements lingered long after they should have faded away. Wynonna felt like she was a student all over again as she shuffled through the halls, avoiding eye contact with some of the older teachers that recognized her from her days there. She hadn't been that bad, not really. She had smoked weed behind the gym, skipped a few classes, but all in all she'd been no worse than Willa the year ahead of her, and once they'd both been in high school together they had definitely raised more hell than they had separately, but no one seemed to remember Willa like they remembered Wynonna. It probably didn't help that Waverly followed after, her 4.0 average and perfect attendance a goal that Wynonna never would have been able to reach when she was there, much less in retrospect. Their parents hadn't played favourites, per se, but everyone loved Waverly. The perfect student, the perfect Heir…. Well, that was one thing Wynonna wouldn't envy her sister. She could keep that.

"I still can't believe you actually went to school here," Dolls said, breaking Wynonna from her train of thought. "I mean, like a normal teenager." He was bent over looking at the trophy case like he hadn't seen it half a dozen times since moving to Purgatory years before with the intention of working with Ward Earp to end the Revenant threat in the town. Instead he'd found three sisters dressed in black for their father's funeral after a terrible car accident and the youngest Earp the one able to fire the gun passed down from generation to generation. Wynonna had understood why he stuck it out in their crazy little town for the two years that it took Waverly and Team Earp - as she liked to call them - to take out all of the Revenants, but what had kept the war hero that could have taken his operation anywhere in the world in Purgatory of all places was still beyond her. Not that she was complaining. Dolls had given her purpose in her job. Apparently plain ol' Wynonna was pretty good at taking names and kicking ass, even when some of those asses she was kicking were demons drawn to Purgatory in the wake of the broken curse.

"Sort of normal. I was still an Earp."

"And all that entails. Tell me you weren't a cheerleader."

"You wish. That was Waverly. Willa went out for it one year too, but she didn't last long. Something about an attitude problem." A small smile played on her lips as she remembered how smug her big sister had been when she'd gotten booted. That had been the real accomplishment, not making it.

"Every teacher in this place hates you, don't they?"

"Well, not every one. There are some that don't know me. And I don't think Robert hates me. Kinda hard to get a read on the guy sometimes."

"He's been married to Willa since before I came into town."

"Six years…? No. Five. Between five and six." She struggled to put the memories in order. "They didn't date very long before tying the knot. They started dating after Doc and I did, but got married before us."

"Okay, that part doesn't shock me."

"Why's that?"

"It takes you a while to commit, Earp."

"Hey now, asshole."

Dolls lifted his hands in mock surrender. "Once you figure out what you want, you're all in, but getting there? Don't even try to tell me you're the trusting type."

"None of us are," Wynonna murmured. "I think that's why it surprised us that it happened so fast, but she trusted him. Robert was the exception to every norm Willa had."

"Seems to have worked out."

The bell rung overhead and doors opened all around them, sending kids flooding into the hallway. Wynonna and Dolls were bumped and jostled as teenagers rushed for their lockers. "This was a terrible idea!" she called over and between, wherever she could find a hole to try to shout at her partner.

"Not like we could just call her to the office," Dolls answered, pushing through to get closer to where Wynonna stood. "What'd you say her name was again?"

"Jessica… something."

"Helpful."

"Hey. Alice refused to go to sleep last night. She was determined we needed to watch Frozen at least five times before she'd even consider bed. You're lucky I'm not still sleeping, pal."

Dolls rolled his eyes, but she was sure she saw his lips quirk at the corners before he turned to use his height to survey the running students.

Somehow it was Wynonna who spotted her though, and she reached out to grab hold of Dolls' jacket to drag him along with her. "Hey! Hi. Jessica, right?"

The girl she'd spotted looked over with suspicious blue eyes, adjusting her backpack over one shoulder. She was tall and skinny, her clothes hanging off of her like they were hand-me-downs from someone much more broadly built. "Who are you?"

"I'm Deputy Marshal Dolls and this is Deputy Earp. We just have a few-"

"I didn't do anything and I have a class to get to," the girl answered and started past them.

"We know," Wynonna said as she reached out and latched onto the bag, effectively halting her escape. "We just want to ask you a few question and I promise you get to walk off to wherever you want to go after with a free pass through the class you're supposed to be in if you want it."

That caught her attention and she looked around as if to make sure they weren't being noticed. "The whole thing?"

"Yep." Wynonna could feel Dolls glaring at her, but it was the only way she was going to get this kid to talk. She felt familiar, somehow, like she knew her even though she couldn't remember seeing her before this.

Jessica nodded slowly, positioning herself in a less visible spot of the hall, her stance still tense and nervous. "I don't know what you think I know or what you think I've done," she muttered.

"Oh, we know what you've done. A few B&E's mostly," Dolls said and Wynonna felt the urge to elbow him in the ribs. Hard. She resisted though. Good cop, bad cop.

"Yeah, well, that's not news," the girl grumbled, her fingers playing at a long necklace that caught Wynonna's eyes. A key hung at the end of it, a few beads worked into the necklace itself.

She shook the strangest feeling of deja vu from her mind and focused. They were here to help this kid. The necklace wasn't important. "And you're answering to Judge Cryderman, right?" She watched the girl go quiet at that. "Yeah, I thought so. Real dick. That's the guy we're after. We just need to know if he's asked you to do anything illegal. Anything that he told you to keep to yourself. If he-"

"No," the girl snapped.

"Jessica, we can't help you if you don't help us," Dolls warned.

"I can't help you with something I don't know. So, if we're done, I gotta go."

She shoved past them, not even bothering with the pass for the class. Wynonna looked at Dolls and he huffed a frustrated sigh. "That guy is so dirty."

"Oh yeah."

"But if none of the kids will talk, we can't prove anything."

"I'm not saying I'd be willing to break into his office to find evidence, but I'd totally be willing to break into his office to find evidence."

Her partner offered her a glare that lacked any real commitment to it, but the conversation came to a halt as they spotted a familiar face. Robert Svane, his messenger bag hanging from one shoulder and keys in the opposite hand, paused in the middle of the hallway, peering through his glasses at them. "Hello," he greeted with one dark eyebrow quirked upward and a small, hesitant smile starting at his lips. "Harassing my students today?"

"Trying to catch a bad guy. We were hoping that one of them might have some answers for us."

"Oh, you won't get them to talk to you directly. Not with that," Robert said, motioning to the badge on Dolls' belt. "That makes you the enemy in their eyes."

"And you?"

Robert shrugged. "Depends on the student. Some talk, some don't."

"This one's Jessica. Long dark hair, key necklace?" Wynonna prompted and watched her brother-in-law's eyes narrow just a little as he tilted his head to indicate that they should follow him. He moved towards a room and pushed the door open.

Wynonna hadn't been in Robert's classroom in some time and her gaze swept over the rows of desks, the overflowing bookshelves, and finally came to rest on the framed photo of Willa kissing a giggling Grace that sat on his desk, a small smile working its way into place. He must have caught her looking at it because his own expression had lightened considerably when she looked back over at him. "Found out we're having a boy today," he told her. "That's where I've been, so you caught me just in time. I'd have had a class next hour."

"What do you know about the girl?" Dolls prompted.

Robert pulled in a deep breath, starting to unpack his bag on his desk. "She's in the foster system. I don't know the whole story, but I do know she's been in and out of St Jude's."

"Just Cryderman's type," Wynonna grumbled. "Someone no one would believe even if she'd be willing to ask for help. You think you could talk to her? Let her know we're not trying to hurt her?"

"I'll see what I can do."

She nodded, feeling like there should be more. It was something dancing on the edge of her mind, something that didn't fit or that shouldn't fit, she wasn't sure. After a moment she pushed it back. If she thought of it later, she'd know where to find him. She started to turn, but stopped. Maybe that was it. "Congrats, by the way."

Robert's grin flashed immediately. "Thanks."

"You guys have a name picked out?"

"Yeah. Wyatt. Just act surprised when Willa tells you. She's been lookin' forward to it."

Wynonna found herself smiling too. "Oh I know she has. Doc'll want to take you out to celebrate tonight. Just don't giving him any ideas, got it? Alice is more than enough right now."

"No promises," he offered with a sly wink and she rolled her eyes at him as she turned, Dolls moving with her as they went back onto the trail of a dirty judge.

Word traveled fast in the Earp clan and just as Wynonna had predicted Doc called for a celebration that evening. The last minute timing meant that only he and Robert actually made it to said celebration, but that worked out well enough. It would be like old times, just him and Robert and a few glasses of whisky between them. It would be just like their undergrad days.

Robert had rolled his eyes a little at that one, but Doc knew the man. He had always needed a little coaxing to loosen up and he relied on Doc to be the one to do it. What better excuse to have a few drinks and smoke a couple cigars did they have than finding out that Grace was getting a baby brother, just as Doc's precocious little niece had predicted.

"I'd say things worked out," Doc said, the words tumbling over each other a little more than they had a drink or two before. "We always said we might as well be family. Who'd've thought we'd marry two of the Earp sisters?"

Robert snorted a laugh, taking a long sip from his own glass. "Times do change."

"Ha. But sometimes you stick with the people who've seen it all." He motioned to the bartender. "You know he shaved most his hair sophomore year of undergrad on a bet he lost? I want you to picture Robert Svane with a mohawk for just a second. Man looked like a damn viking."

"That's his last one," Robert told the chuckling bartender, motioning to Doc's drink.

"Willa know about that?" the younger man asked.

"Oh, she has photos. I made sure of it," Doc assured him. "And one more. We're celebrating, and Robert ain't near drunk enough."

"Wynonna's gonna kill me," Robert managed as the bartender did as Doc asked and refilled his glass.

Doc flashed him a grin and gave a him shove, a little disappointed that the other man didn't tilt any more than he did on his barstool. Nope. Definitely not to their limit yet. "Another for him as well."

"Oh hell," Robert chuckled. "We are not repeating that night before graduation, you hear me, Holliday?"

The grin didn't fade as Doc lifted his glass to toast. "To every decision we've made that brought us here, good and bad, and to little Wyatt Svane."

Every argument that he might have made seemed to wash out of him at that as Robert clinked his glass to Doc's and the two tossed the whisky back in celebration of the newest addition.

Doc watched the other man as they both set the newly emptied glasses down, noticing the slower movements and the clumsy way he reached up to shove his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. There was that limit. He'd seen it many an evening over the years of their friendship. First in college, then when Robert had had visited each other during the darker haired man's master's program and Doc's brief stint through dental school. As different as they were, they'd remained close throughout it all, and here they were, years later, family.

And family took care of each other. He reached into his wallet and pulled out enough to cover both sets of drinks and tip before motioning to Robert. "C'mon."

A pair of icy blue eyes blinked owlishly at him from behind those glasses. "What?"

"You think this is the only thing I had planned? What kinda best friend would I be?"

Robert shook his head and stood a little unsteadily from his barstool. "You're the one that'll hate yourself in the mornin'," he drawled and Doc swung an arm around his shoulders.

"Oh, we'll find somethin' that gives you a hangover one of these days, don't you worry about that. It's on my list of life goals after all the times you've been fine and dandy the next mornin' with me sicker 'n a dog." His friend snorted and Doc grinned, guiding him towards the door of the bar. This was going to be a fun night.

By the time they reached the end of the main street that wound down to the path that led out towards the edge of town Robert was starting to recover at least some of the feeling in his face and extremities. His steps had steadied out just a little better, or he thought they had anyway, but then all of a sudden that strange sensation of sudden tunnel vision would hit that would screw with his equilibrium. Drinking with Doc Holliday was always a bad life choice. Fun, but a bad life choice.

"You got a lighter on you?"

It took a moment for the words to make their way through his mental filter to make sense of them and Robert looked over to where Hank had somehow managed to turn and actually look at him while still walking forward. Okay, well at least one of them was steady on their feet. "I quit when Gracie was born. You know that."

"Sure you did."

"I did."

Hank offered a shit-eating grin as he pulled out two cigars and Robert shook his head. "I hate you."

"You do not," his friend argued and started digging around in his own jacket pocket with his free hand for something to get them lit with. He held one out and Robert took it.

"So we needed to come all the way out to the town line to smoke these?"

"Nah. Coulda done that back behind Shorty's." He found what he was looking for and the flame jumped up from the zippo.

Robert shook his head and leaned in, letting the flame burn the end of the ready cigar and he inhaled, feeling the nicotine hit and the smoke travel down his throat. Damn. He'd really tried to forget how much he missed smoking.

"We came out to the edge of town because I'm gonna teach you to shoot."

Blue eyes popped open and glared over his glasses, smoke releasing along with the one word answer he gave. "No."

"Yes." Hank lit his own cigar and Robert watched him carefully as he inhaled, his lips twitched upward like he thought he'd already won this argument. "You grew up in Purgatory and never learned to shoot. That's why you don't like guns. You don't know how to use one."

It was only then that Robert caught sight of the pistol tucked away in its holster. More people carried than not in Purgatory, even into the bars, so it hadn't phased him until right then and his thin lips twitched doward. "You're drunk."

"So are you. That's when you make the best decisions of your life."

"Oh that is not true," the darker haired man managed, the words riding out on a chuckle. Funny, he thought he was sobering up a lot faster right about then.

"I promise not to shoot you if you'll say the same," Hank laughed as he started for the fence line, eyes scanning for something along the bushes. It took him a few minutes, but he found a few empty cans from whatever teenagers had come out here to avoid getting caught with their party. He lined them up on the rock fence between the metal bars, grinning as he finally returned, pulling the pistol from his belt and Robert took a very purposeful step back.

"You're drunk enough to see double. Exactly how do you plan to hit-"

The first shot made him jump and the first can, fit between the bars, went flying. The second went after that, and finally a third. Hank looked very satisfied with himself. The fact that Robert was gaping at him probably didn't hurt. He'd always known the man was a good shot, but this drunk? Not to mention at night and between the bars of the old fence.

"Your turn."

"Oh no. I'm more than happy to watch."

"You married an Earp, Robert. The fact that Willa hasn't-"

"Willa was well aware I couldn't shoot when we got married. Hadn't forgotten that in the five years since either."

Hank all but shoved the pistol into his hand and Robert took a deep drag from his cigar. He thought he could use another whisky right about then. "Fine," he all but growled, shoving the smoking cigar into his grinning friend's hand as he shifted the gun from his right to his left hand and back a couple more times, trying to decide which it felt more comfortable in. Neither. Neither was the answer to that question.

"You're a lefty aren't you?" Hank asked.

"I write with my left, yeah. Few things with my right."

"Think they call that ambidextrous."

"They do," Robert agreed and he leveled the gun, wondering just what would happen if the bullet happened to hit one of the bars. He could just see it ricocheting off to one side, doing some damage or the other that he'd never meant. This had to be the dumbest thing he'd done in years. If he thought about it, most of his truly dumb decisions had been made after he and Hank drank way too much. He had the scars to prove it.

Motion to his left caught his attention and Robert spun to look, taking the gun with him and causing Hank to jump back. "Woh, first lesson is you don't point that thing at someone you ain't willin' to shoot."

Robert immediately let the barrel drop. "Did you see that?"

Hank turned, scanning the treeline where Robert was sure that he'd seen something move just moments before. He shrugged. "Probably a bird or a coon. Maybe a deer?"

"Right."

"Don't let it spook ya. Just aim and fire."

"Right," he repeated, swallowing hard and forcing himself to relax. He put pressure on the trigger, steadying himself to pull it, and nearly jumped out of his skin as his phone started vibrating in his pocket. The shot went off and the gun recoiled, leaving him standing there for a long moment just gaping in the direction the bullet had sailed, finally snapping his mouth shut hard enough that his teeth clicked together and he shoved the gun back into Hank's hands. "I shot it."

"You have got to be the worse shot I have ever seen in my life," his friend chuckled, exchanging the gun for the cigar and Robert was much happier for it.

He put the cigar to his lips and inhaled deeply as he fumbled to pull his cell out of his pocket, his fingers still feeling a bit clumsy. Apparently the adrenaline hadn't fully burned the alcohol out of his system. "'lo?" he answered, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

"Is Doc still with you?"

Dark brows drew together and he double checked the phone, seeing Wynonna's name and a photo of her flipping him off light up the screen. "Yeah. He's got a phone too, y'know."

"That'd be great if he would answer it. What the hell are you boys doing? You're not at Shorty's."

Robert chuckled, shifting the phone so he wasn't speaking directly into it and mouthed Wynonna in answer to Hank's confused expression. That seemed to confuse him even more and he went searching for his own phone.

"We're at the town line. He thought it'd be a smart choice to try to teach me how to shoot."

"Yeah? How'd that one go?" his sister-in-law chuckled.

"'Bout how you'd expect. Hank, you lose your phone?"

"Mustta left it at the bar. Let's head back for it. You're a hopeless case anyway."

"On this, yeah. I do a few other things alright though."

"You guys heading back then?" Wynonna asked, reminding him that she was still on the line.

"Yeah, you wanna check with the bartender to see if he's got it. We're…" There it was again. The same movement. It caught Robert's gaze and this time he was certain it wasn't an animal.

"Robert!"

Robert spun when Hank shouted, but it wasn't his friend that was suddenly behind him. He thought he heard Wynonna yell over the phone, but it went flying from his hands as he stumbled back, finding a creature standing right in front of him that was most certainly not human either. Robert hit the ground hard, rolling to his left to avoid the clawed creature that came down after him, and he struggled to his feet as a shot rang out from Hank's direction.

The creature stumbled, hit square in the chest, but it only knocked it back enough to give Robert a chance to put a little distance between himself and it. Hank shot again and a terrible roar erupted from it.

"I think the only thing you're managin' to do is piss it off," he said lowly as he finally got to his friend's side. "I thought all the Revenants were supposed to be gone. Waverly broke the curse. What the hell is that thing?"

"There are still plenty'a demons drawn here. Looks like we found one of them."

Robert couldn't help but stare, the creature straightening itself out so that it loomed over both men's heights. It was ragged, dark, and looked ready to rip them limb from limb. He'd always believed in the supernatural, but seeing it like this, up close and in person, was something else entirely. "We can't outrun that."

"We're gonna have to try. Aim for the line. Maybe it's like the others and can't cross it."

It was worth a shot. It couldn't get both of them at least and if Hank's theory worked out, then they could get across the line and wait for Wavelry to bring her gun and send the thing back where it belonged.

Robert risked a look behind him, spotting the demon making a beeline for Hank who raised his pistol, the gun giving a echoing click proving that he'd used the last bullet in the chamber. "Hey!" he called out, catching the demon's attention and suddenly it was on him. Robert turned and ran.

He made it to the gate and was right at the line, but his boot hit a patch of ice and he felt himself falter. He twisted, trying to catch himself and he felt a burning sensation as he did, but he didn't have time to try to figure out what he'd twisted out of place as one of the clawed hands grabbed hold of the back of his jacket and dragged him back, throwing him roughly to the ground. He hit hard, his head bouncing off the half-frozen ground and the world pulsed around him dangerously, dark spots dancing across his vision. He was fighting a losing battle for consciousness, Hank's shouts sounding further and further away as the darkness closed in around him.

Notes: Well, that didn't take long for them to find trouble, did it? I hope everyone has a fantastic New Years! I plan to get some more writing done this evening :D

#Wearp fanfic #Wynonna Earp #Bobo Del Rey #Doc holliday #Waverly Earp #Nicole Haught #Willa Earp #Such Great Heights

4 notes · View notes

themurphyzone · 7 years

Text

Oneshot: Platypus Onesies For All

@shit-sara-murphy-does, @thebrilliantbean, @colderthancoldest. As well as everyone else who put some some great tags to this post!

“Zonian4life is online now! Finally!” Candace exclaimed, sinking into a mound of pillows as she prepared to chat with one of her favorite Internet friends. She opened a private message box.

Canducky: Hello! What’s up 2day?

Zonian4life: Donating mom’s clothes. Said u had a platypus right?

Candace groaned at the reminder of the meatbrick. He wasn’t home at the moment, but he’d arrive soon and start shedding everywhere.

And shedding season was annoying. She was still finding blue hairs in the carpet at the foot of her bed from the last time he’d snuck in her room.

Canducky: Yes. Y????

Zonian4life: What do u think of this?

A picture popped up. Candace tapped it and zoomed in, raising an eyebrow at the existence of teal platypus onesies. It was a perfect likeness of Perry, right down to the vacant stare.

Canducky: OMG I can’t believe this exists....

Zonian4life: U likey?

Canducky: Short lived job at toy store and momming an egg kinda killed my interest for platypus suits.

Zonian4life: Oh too bad....

However, this thing was right up Phineas’ alley. He’d love being able to match Perry!

Candace couldn’t remember a time when she saw a perfect gift the moment she’d laid eyes on it. Phineas’ birthday was next week, and she had no intention of going through that whole last minute birthday thing with the left handed whatchamacallit again.

Canducky: But I think my bro would like it. His bday next week. Where 2 buy?

Zonian4life: Animal Warehouse. Got my Time Ape tee there too.

Canducky: Cool! Thank you so much!

Zonian4life: No prob. Gtg, fire on coffee table.

Canducky: kk!

Candace scrolled through the rest of the blog, giggling at the various memes Zonian4life had posted with her dog as the centerpiece. She made sure to send a few to Stacy, who would no doubt be annoyed at the meme spam and retaliate by photoshopping Candace and Jeremy’s faces into random pictures.

This time, she didn’t have to second guess herself.

Candace handed her gift to Phineas, the platypus pajamas neatly folded inside a box covered with platypus print wrapping paper (There was a high demand for everything platypi for some reason).

Phineas tore one corner, tugging to gently unravel it. Candace rolled her eyes. “It’s just wrapping paper. It’s designed to be torn up.”

He gave her a guilty grin. “You always put a lot of effort into your gifts, Candace. And Perry likes it too. I’ve never seen him so happy!”

Candace glanced down at Perry, whose vision was still as unfocused as ever. He didn’t move his tail or prance around so she couldn’t exactly tell what was ‘happy’ in platypus body language.

He unwrapped the box with only minimal tearing to the paper, tossing it aside. Then he opened it.

Candace snapped a photo on her phone the moment Phineas pulled the onesie out of the box. His face was frozen in a mixture of surprise and pent up excitement.

Ferb counted down from three on his fingers.

“This is the best birthday ever!” Phineas shouted. “We can match now, Perry! This is so cool!”

Isabella giggled. “Maybe I should get a chihuahua onesie so we’d match! What could possibly be cuter than a pair of pet owners dressing up as their loyal companions?”

“If that happened, I think Ferb and I would need an entirely new processing system for the cuteness trackers. We’d never be able to track anything if the signal from your interference alone would contain the same amount of raw wavelengths as the sun’s light energy,” Phineas replied.

Isabella relaxed, a serene expression crossing her face.

Baljeet waved his hand in front of her face. “She blanked on us!”

“Step aside, nerd,” Buford said, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. He shoved Baljeet out of the way, then snapped his fingers in front of Isabella’s face.

Nothing happened.

Buford shrugged. “Well, I tried.”

Gretchen muttered something about ‘Phineasland’ and signaled the other Fireside Girls to grab a bucket of ice cold water.

Phineas hugged Candace, the platypus onesie hanging off a shoulder. “Thanks! You know me so well!”

She ruffled his hair. “What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t?”

They stayed that way for several moments, their parents ‘awwing’ at the display of sibling affection. Then Phineas broke away. “I’m gonna try these on. Be right back!”

He rushed inside the house, Perry padding in behind him.

Ferb stared at her.

“What?” Candace protested.

His gaze didn’t waver.

“Okay, fine. I’ll buy you one too. Happy?”

Ferb gave her a thumbs up.

Canducky: Operation Platypajamas a success!

Zonian4life: Little bros love onesies who knew?

Canducky: Awesome big sisters!

“Phineas and Ferb look really good in those onesies,” Vanessa said, swiping through Candace’s photos. “They look just platypi!”

Candace shrugged. “They look the part, but they can’t act it. Regular platypi don’t do much.” Vanessa frowned at that. “What? Ever met a platypus who does more than eat and sleep?”

Vanessa shook her head. “No, that’s silly. I’ll meet a platypus that does more than the basics as soon as my life isn’t one big soap opera.”

There was a knock on Vanessa’s door. “Vanessa! I made you and your friend some doonkleberry pie! I promise there isn’t a zombie apocalypse this time around!”

“Speaking of my life being one big soap opera,” Vanessa muttered. Candace giggled, which earned her a pillow to the face. “You hungry?”

“Sure. Bet it can’t beat my mom’s doonkleberry pie recipe though,” Candace said.

Vanessa opened the door a hair, then groaned. “Dad, why did you pick that apron of all things?”

“What, can’t a guy be hospitable to his guests?” Dr. Doofenshmirtz protested. “Besides, I happen to like this apron.”

“Can’t be any worse than my own dad’s Kiss the Brit apron he got at an antique show!” Candace called. “How bad can it-”

Vanessa let the door swing all the way open, and Candace flinched at the sight of the bright pink frilly apron. “See what I mean?” Vanessa asked.

Dr. Doofenshmirtz scowled as he set two slices of doonkleberry pie on a table. “Hey, you went through a pink phase too. I have pictures of that really poofy fairy princess lying around somewhere. I need to sort through those photos anyway. Maybe I can get into scrapbooking.”

Vanessa buried her face into a pillow. “See what I mean?”

Candace patted her back. “You did harp on him about the apron.”

“You joined me!” Vanessa protested. “I’m going to crawl under a rock. Alert me during the next nuclear meltdown.”

“Boy, you have a penchant for drama,” Candace said.

Dr. Doofenshmirtz laughed. “She gets it from me. Don’t give me that sour look, Vanessa. It’s true no matter how much you deny it. Wait, are those boys dressed in platypus onesies?”

Candace nodded. “My brother’s birthday was a few days ago. He was really happy to match Perry.”

He gasped. “You have a platypus named Perry?”

“Um, yes? I think he’s in one of these photos. Ah, here.” Candace showed him one that had Phineas and Ferb in their new onesies while hugging Perry. “Why? Have you seen him? I mean, he wanders off all the time so he’s bound to meet some people around town.”

He shook his head. “Must be thinking of a different platypus. The one I know doesn’t look that unfocused all the time. Strangely, his name is Perry too. Small world, right? Just out of curiosity, where did you get those onesies from?”

“Animal Warehouse,” Candace replied. “Had some really great stuff there! A friend recommended it to me.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened. “No. Oh my goodness, no.”

Dr. Doofenshmirtz seemed confused. “What? I was just thinking about going there sometime to see if they had one in my size.” There was a crash from outside. He groaned. “I’d better go see what damage Norm did to the wall this time. You’d think he’d learn to use the door properly after a while. Anyway, enjoy your pie!”

Vanessa shut the door behind him, tapping her foot as she glared at Candace. “Thanks,” she drawled.

Candace beamed at her. “You’re welcome!”

Canducky: My friend is mad that I inspired her dad to go buy a platypus onesie.

Zonian4life: Wow this onesie thing is snowballing.

Canducky: Ikr congrats we accidentally started a fashion trend!

Zonian4life: Next could we try to ‘accidentally start a fashion trend’ for Dr. Zone?

Canducky: Help me for starting one with Ducky Momo?

Zonian4life: Deal.

Phineas had a platypus onesie.

Ferb had a platypus onesie.

Heinz had a platypus onesie.

Candace didn’t have one, nor did she want one, but she inspired everyone to go purchase one so she still counted.

OWCA owned Animal Warehouse so they could appeal to animal loving consumers in order to use them as a host family later if they chose to adopt a pet.

Perry saved the pictures from the birthday party to his lair computer, looking through them one more time before heading home.

He really did have the greatest family and job in the world.

#milo murphy's law #phineas and ferb #candace flynn #vanessa doofenshmirtz #heinz doofenshmirtz #sara murphy #fanfiction #oneshot #perry the platypus #this is the power teenage girls have over the internet

101 notes · View notes

raeofalbion · 7 years

Text

Writing Pet Peeves

Someone asked about this a while back—the ask is gone but I think I’m ready to give my opinion on this. I wasn’t sure if they meant writing pet peeves as a writer or writing pet peeves as a reader, so I’m going to separate this into two sections and try to answer to the best of my ability. If you‘re easily angered by people bitching about things that annoy them, you might not want to read this. Also, as a disclaimer, I will not be calling anyone out by name. Just because that’s not how I do things. I might curse a bit, though. It’s also really long, so look under the cut.

Writing Pet Peeves As A Writer (in no particular order)

- When The Words Won’t Do The Thing

I’m pretty sure every writer has dealt with this. You’ve got this beautiful, perfect scene in your head and everything down to the last detail is perfect and you can picture it and you know it’s within your ability to write…and the words suddenly don’t come out right. They just…aren’t correct. The feeling’s gone and the details are off and nothing is coming out like it’s supposed to. You still have this perfect picture of the scene in your head, but it won’t come out into your paper. Why won’t you do the thing, words? What is your problem? Why have you forsaken me? WOOOOOOOOOOORDDDS?!?!?!

- Asshole Readers (Most Of Which You’re Not Allowed To Call Assholes Without Losing A Reader)

I feel like asshole readers fall into two categories and both are a pain for different reasons and I’ve got stories to go along with both.

So, first category: the outright asshole. I don’t mean the trolls who get off on being a dick, I mean the ones come at you, spouting venom, and acting like all their hateful words are supposed to, somehow, “help” you. For instance, waaaaay back (like 6 years ago) when I posted the first, not very good, draft of MoI I got a PM from a guy who had read through chapter 14 (about 60,000 words) and said “I’ve read through what you have posted and I feel like I wasted my time because you’re not putting any sex in. This is really bad. If you don’t have any sex in the story, it’s not a good story. Your writing would be so much better with sex in it. You should write a story with me because I write great sex scenes and you’ll learn something.” -very deep sigh- I could rant for hours about this guy, and how his response to my “thanks but no thanks” was even worse, but I will spare all of you from it. This, paraphrased as it is, speaks for itself I think. Please keep in mind that that draft was only on FFN…which doesn’t allow explicit smut and will delete fics with detailed making out. Now allow the soul crushing “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me” feeling to grow. Please.

Second category: the “I’m not sure if you are purposefully being an asshole or not” asshole. This reader approaches as a fan, seems delighted to be in touch with you, and then…something happens. And you’re not certain if it’s a calculated thing or if they were just careless with their words and you’re over invested in your work, but it fucks you up nonetheless and, every time you think about it, it upsets you again. Usually, this seems to happen with readers being like “have you considered writing -insert thing here-? I think you’d be really good at it” and you consider it and decide “yeah, this would be fun to write”. So you write the fic, you post it, you tell the person “hey, I wrote the thing you suggested” and they just…never get back to you? Ever? And, if the fic is pretty niche and not something a lot of people are interested in, that kinda makes it even worse? Because, now, you’ve got this fic hanging around that no one likes and was written for a ghost that might exist but maybe you dreamed the entire fucking convo and now what the hell do you do with it? Was it intentional? Was it not? This is like conspiracy theory level paranoia-inducing stuff.

Continuing on from the second one, just…watch your words when you’re talking about a writer’s work. You might not have meant to insult my work, but I cannot read your thoughts through a computer screen. A while back I was approached about MoI (that fic has so many crazy stories attached to it) and, as anyone who has read it knows: the pair is a bi dude and a bi chick and they are bad at emotions. So this reader and I are chatting and they’re really nice and we end up chatting on and off for over a week…and then I bring up that I’m really proud of myself for recently getting better at writing romance and displaying it physically, which will be really useful in the fic’s sequels…to which they replied “well, I’m gay so I don’t care about stuff like that LOL” and changed the subject. Maybe it was a joke? Maybe it was a “I’m just reading for the story and not the romance”? But it really bothered me. This is gonna sound dumb, but I think about it almost every day and it’s been about a year since then. And every time someone reads without commenting or without liking it or I post something for someone that gets ignored, all I can think of is “I don’t care”. I’m not saying this to make you feel sorry for me or to be dramatic, just to warn you: never tell a writer—or anyone with a very specific interest that means a lot to them—that you don’t care. Even as a joke. It’s cruel and that’s the one thing that will stick with them even if they meet other people who love their writing or the thing they’re interested in. Anytime they’re snubbed or someone reacts unenthusiastically, all they will think is that it’s another person saying “I don’t care”. And, if they already have a hard time trusting people, this is going to fuck up relationships with other people, too. Just…think before you say something. You don’t know what harm you could do by being careless.

- Lying About Fic Trades

Usually, when you think of a fic trade, you think of two writers writing something for each other, but there is another kind, as well. This is when two writers like each other’s work and really need an outside opinion on their work and so they swap fics with the purpose of the other looking for errors and things to fix to help each other out. And this is what I’m referring to. When people are honest about wanting to do them, it’s really nice. You both get interesting opinions and thoughts you might not usually get if you only have one usual beta reader (like me). What pisses me off is when people claim to want to do this, but really have no intention of reading your work and are just using you as a beta reader. What’s funny is, I love beta reading and will totally help you out if you’re up front about what you want and I have time. You don’t have to lie to me and make me no longer want to be your friend just because you didn’t feel comfortable asking for editing help.

- Review/Like Karma

I just…really don’t like when people come up to me and are like “I reviewed and faved your fic five seconds ago so why haven’t you done the same for me yet?” Chances are, if you give me a fave/kudos and/or a review, I will immediately check out your profile to both see what fics you have and if you have anything interesting in your favourites. If one of your fics catches my eye, I’ll read it and react as I feel is appropriate. You don’t need to harass me into reading your story. If I’ve read it and am not responding, it’s because I’m not into it and I don’t want to be rude OR I don’t have the spoons for interaction today. If you harass me, 90% chance I will not read your fics unless by accident. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Don’t be a dick.

- “Do You Have A Book Done Yet? One Of You Own Ideas? When Are You Going To Get Published And Be Like JK Rowling?”

Okay, I lied, I am calling someone out by name: I’m calling out my entire immediate family (with the exception of one person, who’s on Tumblr, and doesn’t do this). That up there are direct quotes. I get these at least once a month, mostly from my immediate family and it is one of the worst feelings? I always have a lot of projects going on because I can’t stand to be not working on something. So the constant “are you finished with something? Are you gonna get published soon?” is really stressful. Like…how am I supposed to keep a level head and put out a good product if I’m sitting here, feeling like a failure and like I’m disappointing people for not getting published? My relationship with my original stories are really rocky. I can’t just work on them if I’m not in the right headspace…how the fuck am I supposed to get there if I’m sitting there stressed about not just being published but being successfully published? First off, JK Rowling’s dividends are an outlier, not the norm. Most writers live below the poverty line because 1) you get very little from being published unless you are very, very lucky and 2) people seem to think it’s okay to pirate books instead of buying them which is literally killing well established series. Yes, folks, it’s not publishers killing long-standing series, it’s dicks who think “stealing is acceptable because I can’t afford this luxury item at this second and I declare that I should have it so fuck the creator getting the money they need to live”. Secondly, “one of your own ideas” is quite possibly the worst way to describe original fiction. You think I didn’t sit here, plotting out every fucking chapter of this novel-length fanfic? You think this isn’t my story, my baby, my writing, my ideas? GTFO. Get out of my house. Unfollow me now. I work on this fanfic more than most writers work on their originals in one day. This is my story as much as any original story is. You do not get to disrespect my work just because someone else wrote the original world first. I am done with this bullshit.

Anyway. Moving on before I start challenging people to fights….

Writing Pet Peeves As A Reader (in order from least to worst)

- Sloppiness

I’m sure someone’s going to read that and be like “Rae, wtf? That’s rude” but I don’t mean “you’ve worked on this fic for months and have 1 (one) typo in 30k words and now I will never read your work again”. I mean, like, “you worked on this chapter for an hour, didn’t spell check it, the paragraphs are all smooshed together so no one can read a damn thing, and there isn’t a single consistent detail in this entire fic”. Usually, I’m very forgiving when it comes to errors (unless I’m editing them), but…like…please run this through spell checker? Check to make sure your paragraphs are spaced apart? Do not post 5 minutes after you finished writing the chapter? Seriously, the best thing you can do for a story after finishing it is to set it aside for a while and not touch it. You’ll pick up all the stuff you learned from writing the later bits and be able to make the earlier chapters look lovely will make the readers happy.

(Note: I’m only aiming this at people for whom English is their first language.)

- “This Thing Is Bad But I’m Gonna Write It Like It’s Good And No One Will Notice It’s Bad, Right?”

This happens so often and I just…ugh. It seems like the main theme people use in this is the “person A raped person B and person B got off so it wasn’t really rape” or “person A and person B barely know each other, person A tries to seduce person B and person B resists. Person A rapes them. Somehow this turns into a romance and they live happily ever after”. And the writer never addresses that this is not right. Never. This sends such a bad message to people. It’s telling people that “it’s okay if you’re raped, your rapist loves you and this wasn’t a traumatic experience at all because they did it because they love you so much”. This isn’t true. Writing about a terrible thing and not addressing how terrible it is doesn’t somehow make it a good thing. Nor does it take away the fact that someone was suffering and you ignored it.

- The Writer Is So Meek How Are They Posting This??? (Someone Get A Blankie And Something Nice To Drink And Give Them A Hug.)

This isn’t something that makes me mad at the writer, it makes me mad at their readers. I have met so many good writers who have been so badly bullied and cut down by their so-called fans that they are just…how do they have the willpower to post? Writers who are so talented, but are so afraid of going against a single thing their fans say that they never can reach their full potential because their readers won’t let them. How do you do that to a person? How can you act so abusive and not realise that your behaviour is toxic and oppressive? You’re hurting someone who just wants to make you happy and…for what? To have say over what they post? It’s disgusting. If you do this, you should be ashamed of yourself.

- That Point Where Greed And Lack Of Care For The Material Meet And Somehow Coalesced Into A Single Shitty Book

And now we reach the point where I will drop your story in a fuckin’ heart beat if you do this. This one is more common in published work based on other media (ie books for video games/movies). I hate, hate, buying a novel and realising, not even a chapter in, that the writer isn’t interested in their characters or the world or anything. The novel has the consistency problems I would usually be okay with forgiving in an online fic, but is presenting it snobbishly and makes it clearly known this is just a cheap grab for money they don’t even seem to want. No love for the writing, no interest in their work, and all I can think is: why are you writing this? You don’t want to be writing this any more than I want to be reading it. And the book is never good. Never. It’s just…bad all around.

- Pretentiousness And Assholery

Have you ever gone onto a fic that was really hyped and well-received and you were excited to read, only to realise the writer’s an elitist prick that is using the space intended for sharing their work to scream incoherently for pages about how much of a better writer they are than the canon writers and how they’re going to fix the canon writers’ fuck ups and “look at how great I am” that, by the time you got to the end of their pages of bitching and the beginning of their fic, you want to just throw your computer/phone/tablet out a window? And then you realise, at the bottom of the chapter, they have another author’s note of equal length? Better yet, have you ever looked up reviews for a novel only to see the writer screaming at fans in response to every negative review like a small child not getting the toy they wanted? Do yourselves a favour: don’t bother with these people. They are the absolute worst and don’t give a fuck about anything but their ego and how much you can boost it. They aren’t worth it. I have dropped so many writers for this, it’s not even funny. It’s one of the few things I just...can’t separate the writer and their work over.

Bonus: Censorship From The Fans

I’m going to preface this by, once again, stating that censorship does not include wanting things to be tagged correctly. Censorship is someone with power saying “I don’t like this thing and no one else should, either”. Censorship of literature is anyone with any kind of power (and, if you have followers on social media you are in this group) saying “I don’t like this book because I: a) don’t agree with its message, b) don’t like the writer, or c) didn’t read it but thought the summary sounded sketchy and am deciding I know more than the writer. And, any one of you that reads this or enjoys this is to be shamed and humiliated and abused along with the writer for the rest of time.” Which, maybe you’re not saying word for word, but that’s essentially what you’re promoting. If you have a following, you have a large group of people that is looking to you. How you act influences them. If you sit here, shaming people for their books, then you are an asshole. If you projecting to your followers that they should shame everyone who likes that book, you are even worse. What you post, what you write, what you encourage others to do, that is on your hands. You are responsible for any harm that comes from that. And censoring media to the point where people are receiving death threats over it is disgusting. And if that shit’s being started because you started it, you need to stop and take a look at yourself. No one should be getting death threats over a fucking book. (If you’re interested in seeing a video relating to this topic, you might want to look here: Link )

Thank you for listening to me ramble, to anyone who has made it this far. If you have any thoughts, anything you want to add or debate, feel free to respond. Thanks for your time.

#writing #writing pet peeves #writing angst #very long post #lots of complaining #I'm in the mood to fight and I'm sorry for all the aggression #and the lack of editing

8 notes · View notes

movietvtechgeeks · 6 years

Photo

Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/brendan-taylor-talks-supernatural-breakdown-briana-buckmaster/

Brendan Taylor talks 'Supernatural' Breakdown and Briana Buckmaster Pt 2

Here is Part 2 of Brendan Taylor's interview with Lynn about returning to Supernatural as Officer Doug Stover (he also appeared on the show in 2015 in the Plush episode) and working with Briana Buckmaster, Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki. Part 1 of the interview is here. L: I’ve often said that I should bring the casting agency a fruit basket, because they only cast the best most committed people. Jared and Jensen said occasionally they get someone who doesn’t fit, but they don’t last long. B: Yeah, no. I think with the amount of actors they go through; it’s kind of a rite of passage to be on Supernatural. They did say there was this one person who was just like doing his own thing, doing weird awkward loud warm-ups and they just kinda pulled him aside and were like, you can’t do that on this show (laughing) L: (laughing) That’s not this show. B: I don’t think they’ve had to do that a lot, but I think you have to listen – when everything else is going so well without that behavior, why would you think that you could get away with that? L: You must not be very observant not to pick up on that. But I’m always in awe of guest actors, constantly having to go to a new setting with new people and having to be that observant, so you can pick up on the norms right away and fit yourself in. That’s intimidating! B: Yeah, and you know, my first episode, to be honest, I felt that in a way. Briana was back for her third time in Plush, and I was brand new, so they had a rapport and I really kinda didn’t and you just -- all you can do is just what you’re paid to do, and that’s what I did. Obviously, it was rewarded with getting to come back on the show, probably a multitude of factors decided that. And this time I got the opportunity because they split up a lot in the episode, Briana goes with Jared, and I go with Jensen, so we spent a good bit of time together, shooting the shit and chatting. We’re actually around the same age, which is funny. L: I saw that you tweeted ‘Jensen and I got along like a house on fire.’ B: Yeah, we were just kinda joking about the same things, we have a similar sense of humor, like a dry sense of humor, I guess? L: That sounds about right. B: We were just like sharing a lot of internet memes, showing them back and forth between takes. L: (cracks up) B: Like dad jokes. I was showing him some memes he hadn’t seen. It was pretty fun and we just kinda clicked in that way. L: Oh, Jensen and memes, that’s awesome. Okay, I’m moving to the comedy portion of the chat now – what were the worst times when you kept cracking up and couldn’t hold it together? You and Briana tweeted something about ‘the butterfly’ scene and Jared and Jensen kept making you laugh. B: (laughing) I actually watched and was like, where’s that scene? Oh, they cut it entirely. Which actually makes sense because the way it was written, it made Donna come across as maybe not so bright. They had the FBI guy talking about the patterns of this abductor, and he’s saying oh their migration patterns move up north in the winter and in summer down south, and then pause…beat… and Briana says (in a dramatic whisper) ‘Like a butterfly.’ L: (cracks up) B: And the line just made Sheriff Donna sound clueless, and we all look at her like, duh. But trying to keep a straight face through that line, oh man, it was hard. We kept doing it over and over and especially when… [At this point Brendan is laughing so hard he can’t go on, and I’m laughing so hard just picturing it…] B: Sorry, it’s bringing me right back…. And Jensen would look over almost anticipating and she’d go (dramatic whisper again) ‘like a butterfly’ and he’d just go ‘shit!’ L: (still cracking up) B: And the FBI guy, he was a nice guy, but there’s a time when he’s on camera and we’re off camera and we’re just being unprofessional… L: The poor guy B: So Briana’s tactic was just to look straight ahead and not react to them (J2) reacting, but in the meantime, it was a funny image. Jared is kinda my height and the camera is kinda over our shoulders behind looking back at the FBI guy, and Jared is on the left side of camera facing out and then it’s Briana and then it’s me. But she says the ‘like a butterfly’ and Jared just kinda slowly turns his head and I just see his eyes over top and I just couldn’t handle it… L: I don’t blame you! B: They know their power and yeah, their mastery of screwing around. L: Oh yes they are very good at it B: Jensen is also really funny, they’re both just really funny. Briana’s tweet about this scene: FUN FACT: we couldn't stop laughing at a line they inevitably CUT OUT of this scene. "Like a butterfly" i would say. And Jared and Jensen would pretend to look at me like "duh Donna". Eventually I had to just not look at them to not laugh. "Nice tactic" Jensen said. L: They are really funny. I thought you did a good job with the lines you had that were supposed to be funny too. You deadpanned it a little with a lot of them and that made them even funnier. B: Yeah I do a lot of commercials – I don’t know if you watch tv a lot and catch them – but one thing they allow me to do is work on the comedy. Just having an understanding, there’s a moment in that intro scene when we’re looking at the car and Dean says about Donna, oh yeah she’s family. And I just kinda am smiling along and then drop like what?? Like this whole time? And we had this moment at the end of that scene where he’s big time bullshitting. I like that scene because it is so obvious, like no one would really believe that, but at the same time we kinda love that Doug just wants to believe. L: Exactly, he’s a little naïve and sweet… B: Yeah, but I added that moment when Dean turns and walks away, I have a little like (laughing) ‘Huh. All right..’ L: Oh yeah, that was good, that’s what I mean, your funny lines came out very funny because of the way they were delivered and all the little nonverbals too. B: I could have easily just kinda stayed there smiling like a goofball, and then we get from that oh Doug is just like totally clueless, but I think it’s important to understand the arc of the episode to see that he’s starting to gain a suspicion. L: Yes, I liked those hints. And I love that you were thinking about that throughout too. B: Another funny part that was all me (cracking up) was the head slap [when Marlon asks ‘what’s the matter, you vegan?’ and Doug slaps him upside the head]. I thought it was important for Doug to have that scene to show that he’s not a pushover, he does something a bit out of character that’s putting someone in line because he does care. It’s not just everyone else doing everything; he’s active in it. I mean, it could have easily been Sam or Dean who does that, but I think it’s especially funny that Doug got to do it. L: Yes, and him having taken that in, like yeah, that’s how they do it in the FBI. B: Yeah, kinda looking up to them, like I wanna be like him. Practicing the head slap, Steven (Yaffee, who plays Marlon) was fine with me just kinda knicking his hair, but it would kinda be different every time, he would look at the screen and look back, and I didn’t want to – I mean, the stunt guy is always there, even for something as simple as that – you don’t wanna hit someone in the temple or the ear. L: Ouch B: (cracking up again) And I kept – I was worried about hitting him too hard, and we had a few takes, there was one where I just like, I completely missed his head! L: lol B: And then they didn’t cut, so I just kept trying to do it again, and the guys were like, what are you doing? And everyone just couldn’t hold it after that; it was just funny that I kept trying to do an impulsive slap like twice in a row. L: I hope some of this will make the gag reel. B: I hope so, it was like partially me, Brendan, just trying to get this thing right, and it was partially just it’s funny to kinda see something comedic for no real reason. L: I wouldn’t be surprised. I wasn’t surprised when they brought you back either. Every now and then you get a guest character that resonates with the viewers. There was a bit of a gender role flip with him telling Donna she’s treating him like crap and I think we were rooting for him. B: Yeah definitely, and in the end of that first episode it was open-ended so I kinda hoped they’d have some kind of closure to that, but I’m fully aware that me and Doug are part of Donna’s story line. And it should be her going forward, and I think it was important to show that she doesn’t need a man to keep her going, and I think that was showing that. But it is nice to have someone who’s supportive and caring. L: Well, if Wayward Sisters goes… B: That would be… obviously, I would love that. I understand the hesitation, you could never see me again, and Donna will go on and kill monsters. I think it’s important that she takes her own path but of course, I would love to be back. Even in this episode and consistently multiple times in each episode, someone is in danger, and someone is about to die -- even in this one, the FBI guy is about to shoot Sam in the head and it pans over to the camera and then blam! OMG and you look over, and of course, someone is bleeding and then he falls over, and there’s Dean with the smoking gun! L: That was such an awesome moment. B: That happens like all the time on Supernatural in one form or another, and I think it would be cool if that same kind of thing happened and Doug is standing there with a gun. I think he just needs some time to process. I do say I love you Donna but I can’t do this, but I did also say – within the episode – I’ll always be there for you. Dean says, you’ll always be there for her, right? And I say you betcha. L: That’s right. He wasn’t rejecting her, just saying that he can’t do it. That’s why it’s so tragic. B: So yeah, obviously relationships are complicated, but also holding myself (Doug) accountable for what I said about being there for her. I think that’s something to think about – obviously, to come back in a way that doesn’t outshine the girls though, that somehow highlights the force against evil I guess, as a member of the team L: Yeah, that’s what Dean was saying, we could use another hand on this side from someone who knows. I felt like they deliberately left that door open, so… B: I sure hope so. I was texting Briana last night – and all the cast was messaging her saying how great they thought the episode was. L: She kicked ass. B: I think – I’m not up to speed this season, but this was one of the best ones I’ve seen recently. And she’s a big part of that obviously. L: I have a good feeling about it all. It was so nice to get to chat with you. Anything I didn’t ask you about? B: It was great chatting with you too! Oh, I posted a lot of photos from on set and I appreciate that the fans appreciate those behind the scenes things. L: Oh yes, I’ve got a lot of them, they were great – you did nearly kill the entire fandom by posting that picture of Jensen on set wearing glasses though. B: (laughing) I can’t even understand that, I didn’t know that I wielded such power with that! It was just a picture of them screwing around, it didn’t even come close to occurring to me that would be the response to that photo L: Oh yes, I could have predicted it. B: And then people were like, you broke the internet! I’ll post a few more too tonight that are pretty fun. L: Fans really appreciate the behind the scenes because most of us will never get to be there. B: I sort of gathered that and essentially nowadays you have the ability to do that with social media, and true fans like to know every single bit. L: Absolutely we do. B: Oh and I was gonna mention that I did set dec for 15 years and I worked on the episode LARP and the Real Girl, helping build that big set out in the field. I did that job for many years, day calling around so I didn’t have a permanent place on Supernatural but I did span a few weeks at a time there working on sets. That’s why I posted a picture of George Neuman [the set decorator on Supernatural since Season 1], who was so happy to see me back there. And I was on the show in Season 8 too. L: You were? B: They cut my scene. L: Oops. B: I did post a photo a while back, I’m trying to remember the episode number. I was so excited that I got on Supernatural. It was a scene with Alaina Huffman. It was me and my friend Adam Pateman, and we were sorta business guys chatting about how unfair the world is blah blah blah and we go down these stairs from a law office kinda thing and we look over and Alaina is standing there with her demon eyes and you look back at us and we both have demon eyes, and she’s recruiting her army. L: Oh cool – but gotta say, this role is a million times better! B: Oh totally, that was just a one time thing. It was cool, but I do remember gathering my family to watch, like ‘yeah I’m on Supernatural!’ and then… L: No I’m not… B: It happened a few months prior on another show where I got a part in the finale, and they cut that scene as well. It was starting to look like I was making everything up! L: Yeah sure you’re on these shows… B: My family was like we watched the episode two times… L: Like, where were you? That sucks. So do you like acting more or set dec? B: I haven’t done set dec, knock on wood, in almost three years. For me, acting is a goal. It’s actually very hard to make it as you probably know. It’s always been a passion of mine, and I couldn’t really handle it anymore being on set literally a few feet away watching people do what I wanted to be doing L: Oh god yes, that would be so painful. B: Yeah and I was taking classes on weekends, it was something I pursued in high school and then in university it was sorta on the back burner, but then I found my way back to it. And as I gained more experience with set dec and knew more people, I was able to go to more auditions and slowly they started paying off more. It was a very gradual thing, not an overnight success thing, which is a very rare thing. It does happen; it happened to my buddy Jordan who’s on Riverdale overnight. Anything on that show is huge, so it can be an overnight thing, but it’s not the norm at all. So slowly I’ve started to work and checks would show up and I also did a lot of theater and all of a sudden it started to go in the other direction. Now it feels like I can kick back a little. I think even in Jensen and Jared’s position, who are like the only actors in the industry [in Canada] who have a full time job (laughing), I think they, yes they have that, but you still have to put in work, to keep it consistent and help it grow. It’s ironic that I have way more time now as a full time actor, but you sometimes make plans and – while we were talking I saw that I got something from my agent for an audition on Monday so I won’t be taking my car in to get fixed on Monday, I guess I can’t do that now! L: Fingers crossed for you for Monday! B: My character is back on the The Magicians too in March and I’m also on The Arrangement up here. I got all three emails for those within a week of each other, so those are the kind of lucky breaks you hope you get, but you have to work for it. And fingers crossed for Wayward Sisters, this has been an awesome thing to be part of! Hopefully, Brendan will have more chances to be a part of Supernatural – and Wayward Sisters – in the future. Until then, check him out on The Magicians and The Arrangement!

Movie TV Tech Geeks News

#Brendan Taylor #Briana Buckmaster #Featured #Interviews #Jared Padalecki #Jensen Ackles #Supernatural

1 note · View note