#but then again i like scribbling more. id rather draw | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soobasaur · 3 years

Text

are you mine?

— a lee minho au

genre: enemies to lovers minho x gender neutral!reader

a/n: this is for my bestie who has been in a minho obsession lately and needs more content, you know who you are :]

« masterlist

you and minho didnt exactly,,,get along very well for a while

the only reason you both even knew each other was two of your best friends were dating and merged ur friend groups

(thanks a lot binsung 〴⋋_⋌〵)

you wouldnt go as far as to say you hated him

but you liked to pretend you did

you just barely saw him around so why not just mke him your mortal enemy??

it was easier to hate him then admit he was decent company!!

you had a reputation to uphold!!!!

and apparently he did too because he never really disagreed,,,,

you guys just ever had a chance to get off on the right foot and really talk

mutual disagreement <33

the thing is, the both of you were never left alone together

like ever

until that one time yall were abandoned (-д-；)

you and ur friend groups planned a hang out but everyone ended up cancelling last minute with no excuse

it was just you two who didnt get the memo and ended up alone

now that you think about it,,,that sounds like smth ur friends would do on purpose

(again, fuck u binsung!! ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ )

so just picture this,,,you and minho both showing up to an arcade and sitting in silence for an hour before getting a text that everyone cancelled

your immediate thought was to go home bc why would minho want to hang out with you???

but after the both of you read the text in the groupchat he got up and made his way inside, holding the door open and quirking his eyebrow up at you

“well, are you coming or not? I wanna try the new vr game.”

and you were just like \\(⊙︿⊙)// ???

he? wants?? to hang out??? with just you????

but u ended up following him in and he paid for your guy’s tickets ≧◡≦

“just buy me lunch after and we’re even”

lunch??? now this mf wants to get lunch together?!$%

you learned one thing about minho that day

he was,,,competitive,,VERY competitive

like what demon possessed him kind of competitive

whenever he won he would flash you a smirk and skip to the next game as he dragged his row of tickets along

it INFURIATED U!!!

ur pride was in shambles

so you unleashed everything after that and won a good amount of games ;)

u had been eyeing a cute cat plush the entire time but u didnt have enough tickets at the end :((

o(╥﹏╥)o damn it capitalism u just wanted a plushie

you didnt rlly want anything else so you gave your tickets to minho and waited to the side for him to get his prize

he came out with tHE SAME PLUSHIE YOU HAD BEEN EYEING \\( ಠ_ಠ)//

but before you could sulk about it he handed it to you and started to make his way to the exit Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ

and during lunch this bitch ended up paying even after saying you should (｀ε´)

\(▰˘◡˘▰)//\\ (▰˘◡˘▰)//\\ (▰˘◡˘▰)// \\(▰˘◡˘▰)//

After that...hang out if you will,,u started to notice minho everywhere

LIKE E V E R Y W H E R E

why was this bitch all over your college campus?

you never noticed minho was in ur class for the longest time jsskkfk

like all of a sudden u just spotted him out of the corner of ur eye and were like o h

once he noticed you too there was no going back

say good bye to paying attention in class

(as if you ever did anyways)

he started to inch closer to you during class

he even started sending you notes

ಠ▃ಠ and u were so paranoid the professor would catch you

but this bitch was slick so u were fine

ヽ(๏∀๏ )ﾉ

he was the type of guy to throw little crumpled sticky notes at you whenever he wanted to say something during class

they’d be covered with doodles of cats and his scribbly messy handwriting + little hearts

it was usually just some dumb thought he had or a crude drawing of the professor (. ﾟーﾟ)

other than those few notes you guys never really talked outside ur friend group

there was one incident late at night tho

you had a big project coming up and it was 2am and you were...2 sentences in T_T

you deserved a coffee break <3

so that was how you found under the awning of an all night coffee shop

except it wasn't all night and closed right after you got ur coffee!!

and now u were stuck under the awning!!

all you had was your measly hoodie that you stole from changbin and your now soggy cup of coffee as you waited for the rain to pass

you might as well of just stayed home since ur wasting all this time you could’ve been working on your project standing outside

were you gonna work on the project once you got home? no

but did the thought of wasted time still make you mad? yes

you slumped against the shop as you bitterly drank your coffee, crushing the cup between your hands

after a couple minutes you felt the rain above you stop

you look to your side to see,,,minho?!

this mf was holding an umbrella above your head

“here, take my umbrella.”

thats when you noticed the cafe uniform he had on

“you work here?” you asked, before taking the umbrella from his hand

“yeah, your observant ass didnt see me literally make your coffee,”

“oh whoops,,,i thought you hated me, why are you giving me our umbrella?”

“i do, but id rather you uh...not die in the cold looking like a dead rat.”

was it just you or were his cheeks dusted pink?

probably the cold

(y/n you dumb bitch-)

you both walk back to your dorms after that

and he insists you carry the umbrella

cus his poor arms are tired from making coffee all day :((

and maybe it's an excuse to be closer to you

since hes a bit taller he has to crouch and scoot closer to you in order to not get wet >_<

⊙﹏⊙ ⊙﹏⊙ ⊙﹏⊙

over the next few weeks your find urself at the cafe he works at more often

one time you got the hours wrong and he wasnt on shift :(

but when you got up to leave he walked in and spent the day helping you study instead of working

you went for the coffee!! not for him!! definitely not,,,

(¬‿¬)

“look, im only hanging out with you cus you get the employee discount.”

“sure, and not cus you enjoy my company-”

“i 100% despise your company.”

ok but u didnt

u actually /REALLY/ liked his company

like WTF

where has he been all ur life

ew that sounded too romantic

but like fr where was he hiding

(・ε・｀)

soon you both were joining binsung on their dates

but it wasn't a double date!!

it was just four friends hanging out and two happened to be a couple

and they liked to hang out at fancy restaurants and do couple like activities

totally normal!!

there was one incident where you were about to pay for your meal but minho placed his hand on top of yours and slid his card instead

“you can pay on the next date.”

NEXT? DATE??

excuse me sir what do u mean-

you ignored changbin and jisung’s snickers behind you the entire night

when minho walked you home you couldnt help but let urself blurt out

“was this a date?”

minho gave you an incredulous look

“...was it not??”

oh my god this is embarrassing

“OH MY GOD WAS IT NOT?!!”

you ignored how minho was now turning crimson red and panicking and tugged on his collar, pulling him down for a kiss

“it was...a date” you mumble, now shy at the close proximity between the two of you

“...im gonna kill jisung.” he muttered, pulling you in for a hug, “he told me this was a double date”

“that can be our next date, the murder of our best friends.”

“wow i am in love with you.”

＼（＾○＾）人（＾○＾）／

minho and y/n murder besties!!

for legal reasons that is a joke

( ˶˘ ³˘(˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵)♡

thank you for reading !!

#Spotify #stray kids #stray kids headcanons #lee know #lee know fic #lee know headcanons #lee know x reader #minho x reader #stray kids x reader #minho au #lee know au #stray kids au #minho boyfriend #enemies to lovers #stray kids enemies to lovers #minho enemies to lovers #skz minho #skz au #skz aus

479 notes · View notes

mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years

Note

“don’t do that. don’t shut me out.” + Jupeter

I wrote this for @spiky-lesbian because she’s had a rough week so here’s some angst babe, go figure

----------

“I’m getting too old for this.”

Juno was pretty sure PIs were supposed to think that sort of thing when they were doing something cool and dangerous, like leaping the gap between the cars of a moving train or ducking behind crates at a harbour to avoid laser fire.

Rather than crawling on their stomachs to get their pet sewer rabbit’s favourite ball out from behind the sofa. But hey, it was his day off.

Then again, Small Fry did look delighted when he straightened back up with a loud groan and the cracking of some vertebrae, whiffling her nose and hopping excitedly, shaking the floorboards of their little apartment. Smiling fondly, Juno threw the ball off down the hallway so she could chase it, squeaking happily.

“Next time that happens I’m not getting it out for you! You can go make goo goo eyes at your daddy for a change,” he called after her, brushing dust from his curls and his shirt. But the smile didn’t fade from his face, even after she had rounded the corner to go and cause mischief somewhere else. Anyone who said keeping a massive sewer rabbit in a modest Hyperion apartment was a bad idea was just too afraid of cleaning up the occasional broken lamp or gnaw marks on the walls.

He was about to straighten back up and go back to the book he’d been reading, he got so little time to do things like that these days but his husband was still at work, the boys were asleep and Bianca was happily playing in her room, giving him a rare hour or two to himself that he didn’t want to waste. He was mildly tempted to crack the lock on the drawer where Nureyev stowed away any case files he brought home so he couldn’t continue working himself ragged outside of his own office but, contrary to the size of the lock and the dedication with which his husband hid the key, he really was getting better at giving himself time off.

After all, it had been a hell of a long time since work was the only thing he had to keep him going.

He was about to do that when something else behind the sofa caught his eye, something that wasn’t just a toy of Bee Bee’s that she’d forgotten or one of Small Fry’s hordes of left socks that she liked to build nests out of. He was about to sigh and mutter something about the wonders of having three kids being that you’d find trash in the weirdest places but something wary ran its way down his spine. Something that was maybe instinct, maybe his detective brain putting pieces together and proving yet again that the years spent theoretically on the other side of law and order hadn’t dampened his skills.

Whatever it was, it made him reach out, once again feeling the twinge in the base of his spine, using his hip to nudge the couch further out so he could snag it and bring it out.

It was a small bag, something designed to be inconspicuously held at the waist or over the shoulder, dark in colour so it wouldn’t catch the eye. Juno frowned, the wariness growing stronger as he sat on the couch and opened it up.

He recognised the precision and fastidiousness immediately, like it was rolling off it in waves like too much perfume. It was in the way everything was crammed in so tight there wasn’t a spare inch of space, everything chosen for its shape and size so it would go in seamlessly like a game of tetris. It was in the items themselves, every possible scenario accounted for; dried rations, iodine pills to purify water, vouchers for shuttle tickets that would take you anywhere in the galaxy, tightly rolled stacks of genuine honest to god Earth currency to take you even further than that, no questions asked, clothes folded so tightly they looked like napkins at first. And, in an even more closely concealed pocket on the inside seam, fake documents, fake IDs, fake cards loaded up with fake creds.

And a knife. If Juno had been entertaining any doubts, any lingering threads of uncertainty, then seeing his tired reflection in that razor edge snipped them neatly away.

He sighed, long and low, filing through the emotions rising in his chest, sending away any that he knew weren’t helpful or were just offshoots of his anxiety, counting backwards from ten like Buddy had shown him until all the messiness sorted itself out.

He didn’t pick his book back up. He watched the clock and waited for his husband to come home.

Nureyev really enjoyed working at the salon. He kept waiting, expecting to get bored or frustrated with it all, but it hadn’t happened yet. He just laughed at the conversations with his colleagues more and more, got more familiar with the smell of hairspray on his clothes and felt a small spark of pride at the ache in his ankles at the end of a long day.

It was enough to make him feel something approaching hope.

He slid off his shoes, not wanting to track any dust from outside into the apartment. Living on Mars had meant needing to get used to the fine red silt clinging to his soles every day and turning up in the most inconvenient places, no matter how careful he tried to be. Juno, the Aurinkos and Rita barely even seemed to notice it. Nureyev assumed that came from growing up with the stuff.

The apartment was surprisingly quiet, enough that he was already getting ideas before he walked into the living room and saw his wife sitting on the sofa.

“What exactly have you done with our children, my love?” he grinned, “Bought us some alone time?”

Juno started a little at his voice, even though he should have heard him come in, the door closing, his keys rattling into the bowl. And when his eye lifted and met Nureyev’s, it was immediately clear that his ideas had been far off the mark.

“Yeah, Rita has them,” Juno’s voice was even, not full of scowls and snarls as usual, not in any way a ‘we’re in serious trouble’ voice but Nureyev’s veins still flooded with adrenaline as he rooted to the spot, a discordant clashing in his ears, “I did want to have some time with just you and me.”

“And yet you’re still dressed?” Nureyev was a little impressed with himself, how his tone came out still perfectly light and joking, like he wasn’t completely gripped by panic and his brain wasn’t scribbling blue prints behind his eyes.

It would seem hairdressing hadn’t lost him all of his skills.

“Babe, listen,” Juno sat forward, eye gentle, “Just come and sit with me, okay? Nothing’s wrong, nothing bad has happened or anything like that. I just want to talk.”

Nureyev frowned. Maybe he had lost his skills a little. Or maybe they’d just never worked on Juno.

But he did sit, stiffly, still braced for something awful in spite of his wife’s reassurance. And when Juno wordlessly produced one of his getaway bags and set it on the coffee table between them, he was ready to run.

But Juno didn’t let the moment build, he didn’t keep him hanging. He simply sighed and reached across the gap between them to take his hand.

“Peter, I’m sorry.”

“What?” Nureyev looked up, certain he must have misheard.

But Juno’s expression was firmly set in penance, mouth turned down, brow fallen across his eye which was soft and sad, “I never once asked you if you were struggling to adjust to the way our lives are now. I never thought to check in with you. I let you down in that and I’m sorry.”

“I...what?” Nureyev was well aware he was falling short of his usual articulation but no more words were coming in to fill the blank gap in his mind, “You’re not...you’re not upset with me?”

Juno frowned a little, shaking his head, “No. No, why would I be?”

“Because…” Laughter, of all things, raw edged and disbelieving bubbled up in his chest, “Because the only thing to take from this is that I’m insane or I was going to leave you?”

“Are either of those things why you’ve got these bags?” Juno asked evenly.

Nureyev winced, “You found the others?”

“No but I know you enough to assume.”

Nureyev took a shaky breath, “I’m not leaving you. And...and I don’t know whether I’m insane or not, honestly.”

The sadness in Juno's eye deepened and he squeezed his husband’s hand, “I don’t think you are but we need to talk about this. What exactly were you trying to prepare for with these?”

“I...I don’t know…” Nureyev didn’t like this one bit, this reversal of their usual roles, Juno being so calm and collected and even while he sat here struggling to leash his emotions, “Nothing! I...I wasn’t…”

Juno exhaled, something cracking through his calm, “Don’t do that. Nureyev, please, don’t shut me out. That’s the one thing I need you not to do right now.”

Nureyev felt his throat close and he couldn’t have said anything if his life depended on it. He didn’t want to shut his wife out, he really didn’t, but it was so hard to unlearn something that had been your first line of defence since childhood.

But if there was anyone who understood that, it was Juno.

“Listen, Nureyev, there’s no answer you can give me that will make me angry with you or upset me. I just want you to feel safe here with me and with the kids and...finding this, it’s just made me worry that you don’t?”

Nureyev forced his lungs to pull in air and turn it into words, determined to not be the man who had shut Juno out for years, the man who had packed those bags.

“I do feel safe here, I am happy here,” he promised, feeling the truth of it and drawing strength from that, “It’s just been so long since I stayed in one place, since...since I could feel safe. And sometimes it feels like another cover I’m wearing for a little while, like something’s going to change and I’ll have to run again. And I guess I just wanted to prepare for that, even if it isn’t what I want. Even if I’m praying it never happens, I just can’t let myself be unprepared. It’s not how I was raised. And having those bags...I can breathe a little easier. I can settle into this more because even if the absolute worst thing happens, I’ll survive.”

Juno nodded slowly, eye never leaving his husband’s face, “Nureyev, we both knew this was going to be a change. And change is hard, even if it’s for the better. And if this helps you settle down, I’m fine with that.”

“But I’m not,” Nureyev croaked, wanting to wipe his eyes so the tears there didn’t fall but also not wanting to let go of Juno’s hand, “I don’t want to live my life like it’s not mine. This isn’t a cover, it’s my family and my home and I want to feel like that.”

Juno squeezed his fingers, “This is yours, Nureyev. I’m your wife and they’re our kids and this is our home. No one is taking any of this from us, I promise. And if you need me to remind you of that, I will, every single damn day for the rest of our lives if that's what you need. And it fucking sucks that everything you’ve lived up until now is telling you different.”

“Yeah,” Nureyev mumbled, the tears falling and dripping off his nose now but they hit Juno’s hands before his own and he didn’t flinch, “It does.”

“Come here…” Juno murmured, pulling him close, wrapping his arms around him as their bodies fit themselves together, “You can cry, it’s okay.”

Nureyev did. Because he believed Juno when he told him it was.

They spent the rest of their rare evening alone pulling out all of the getaway bags Nureyev had stowed over the first week of their retirement from the Carte Blanche, all of the stockpiles of food as well, everything he’d hidden underneath their new life with Mag’s voice and the voice of a hungry child guiding his hands. They didn’t get rid of it, he wasn’t ready for that yet, but it went into a box under their bed instead.

And Juno still told him he was proud of him.

Nureyev thought there was always going to be that part of him that had Mag’s rules in it’s mind and a constant hunger in its belly. All he could ever do was fold it up as small as he could make it and find space for it in the back of his brain.

But with Juno’s arm around him and red dust on the soles of his shoes, that felt easier than it ever had before.

#jupeter #tpp #the penumbra podcast #post canon #angst #hurt/comfort #angst prompts #juno steel #peter nureyev

67 notes · View notes

disaster-bay-leaf · 3 years

Note

Ok so these were the cutest~ (ㆁωㆁ)

4, 6, 7, 9, 12, 19, 22, 23, 28, 33, 34, 46, 47, 52, 59, 60, 63, 66, 83, 87, 88, 93, 99

I kno I listed like....all of them lmao but feel free to answer whichever you want and ofc you can ask me in return Baybe ( ◜‿◝ )♡

uHUHUHUHU much content for me to answer, im happy bebe 💜💜💜✨

4 - how do you take your coffee/tea?

hm coffee either Very Black No Sugar (for the sleep deprived me) or iced latte three sugars and theres no in between

and as for tea its All Black Teas That Exist, cinnamon-flavoured especially (but basically all teas that come to mind when u think “autumn”), and rooibos!!! okay basically the only oke i dont like is any type of green tea (which is sad because they look cool but my tastebuds said ✨no✨)

6 - do you keep plants?

honestly id l o v e too because i love plants but,,, im kinda horrible at taking care of them though still way better than the majority of my family (research helps) so the only plant i own is kinda a small-palm-tree-looking thing in a bigass glass jar that i saved from my mother’s plant-destructing hands and its mostly doing well (the ends of its leaves are starting to be yellow tho and im worried:((( )

7 - do you name your plants?

yes!!! though the current one was named by my sister and its called “pickett” after fantastic beasts shsjjsj

9 - do you like singing/humming to yourself?

oh god oh dude you have n o idea

i have absolutely n o singing voice but its something i do constantly to give my brain the right amount of stimuli so basically i listen to music 24/7 and hum to myself 99% of that time

12 - whats your favourite planet?

oh i actually didnt think about this for so long but either pluto (hes a planet screw nasa) or saturn (RINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) or venus (girls,,,and libra,,,)

19 - do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw in it?

okay im gonna be completely honest with yall and say that my every single try at keeping a journal failed spectacularly and i lost motivation after like a few months so my only journals rn are my fancy fake-leather-bound calendar to note tests and assessments into, a kinda roughed up notebook that i uses for noting down poems or scribbling or passing notes in class, and a kinda fancy bullet journal notebook that i used as a book of shadows for a while but since my fountain pen died i didnt touch it

22 - are you a morning person?

n o

i am so not a morning person but i wish i could be because honestly dawns are beautiful

but as it is rn im either sleep deprived all the time and loathe every second of being in an awake state or (if i have a few days of schoolbreak) my biological clock moves forward a few hours and i sleep 2am-10am

23 - whats your favourite thing to do on lazy days with zero obligations?

except for the fact that i dont remember the last time it happened, i would probably spend it drawing outside, watching anime with my sister and riding a bike around the forest

28 - sunrise or sunset?

i love sunrises because its so peaceful and everyone is asleep but also i subconsciously immediately correlate them with waiting for a train to take me to school (because thats basically the only time i see them) so its a bittersweet love especially with my fucked up biological clock

but sunsets are really really pretty too and i see them more often so i cant choose

33 - whats your fave pastry?

and isnt that a millior-dollar question dhsjjsjsj

either cinnamon rolls (i absolutely adore them) or that one specific type of cupcake-shaped-thing made out of shortcrust/bread/whatever its called and filled with vanilla pudding

34 - tell us about a stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

awwww this is cute

okay so basically my two favourite stuffed animals (i still have them, they sit in my wardrobe) were two teddy bears (like maybe 20cm high each of them) and one was pure brown and the other was silver-brown and they had stereotypical polish male names “Waldek” (read. Valdek) and Stefan (i think tho im not sure if i remember correctly, my memory is a feeble thing sometimes

46 - tell us the worst pun you can think of

what dog would never bite you? a hot dog *badumtss*

47 - what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

huh a year ago id say pineapple pizza but i guess i dont hate pineapples that much anymore (tho putting them on pizza is still an abomination) but i think that if id ever want to get rid of anything it would be parsley, i hate that freakin herb (does it count as food tho)

52 - what are your favourite memes of the year so far?

the ever given for sure shsjshjsjsjsjjsj

but bullying tramp stamps is gold and pure tumblr energy too

as for fandom memes: im in love with all keeping-up-with-the-todorokis variations and the fact that the entire bsd fandom looked at fukuchi and said “biTCH” and thats one of the only things we’re unanimous about

59 - whats your favourite myth?

i always liked the kora/persephone myth (though demeter is an overbearing parent to the nth power), loki and thor crossdressing at a party to get mjolnir back, atalanta because shes a queen and id politely ask her to kick my ass, and cassandra because she deserved better, and theres a l o t more because alas i was a mythology nerd but this post is long enough for me not to make this section 20 times longer sjjsjsjsjsjks

but there are a lot of slavic myths that are very cool too, though we dont know that much about them as about the greeks for example

60 - do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

o o o o h yeah i do like poetry because to create such a beautifully sounding thing with only words someone has to be a genius

some of my favs are: some works of nakahara chuuya (thank u bsd for introducing me to this man’s beautiful imagery in his works i swear to god the descriptions do it for me) (also his poem about having hangovers is a mood like i feel you buddy), the raven by ea poe (i know everyone likes it but hOLY DAMN THE INTER/INTRAVERSE RHYMES ARE LIKE,,, BREATHTAKING) (and aso im a slut for gothic horror), and many more but also That One Poem From Welcome To Nightvale about reaching the island in the west,,, only perfect vibes from it

63 - are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organised or kinda leave them be?

okay heres the thing. for anyone else both my playlist library and my bookshelf would be considered pure chaos of a mad man b u t they actually have a highly focused system which means that i sort them based on their vibes, lovability and (in case of books) their age and whether or not theyre a part of a series so i would say my bookshelf is rather organised (when a quarter of it isnt occupying my desk that is) and my music is more organised than not but sometimes it gets out of control and i have to sort it entirely again

66 - what would your ideal flower crown look like?

either entirely constructed of simple white daisies, entirely constructed of only white roses, or something that probably would win a “how many different coloured flowers can one fit in a flower crown” competition

or something purple (maybe not belladonna)

83 - whats some of your favourite album art?

god i dont know if it counts but hozier’s wasteland baby is probably one of my absolute favourites and no one shall beat that

“thrifted youth” (dalynn) and “standard deviation” (danny schmidt) have very aesthetic covers too

also the iconic p!atd too weird to live, too rare to die! album cover,,, its just iconic what can i say

and last but not least matt meason’s pink-and-black album covers (though bank on the funeral is really pretty too but like,,, “who killed matt meason” d o e s it for me and so does the 2017 tribulation single)

87 - what are some movies that you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

this is such a hard question because im not a really cinematography-oriented gal but i suppose that (at the risk of not going deep enough into the cinema world):

- the princess bride

- inception

- night at the museum

- SPIRITED AWAY

- forrest gump

- truman show

- E.T. (i cried okay)

- the lord of the rings (because damn me if this isnt one impressive adaptation)

- parasite

and one more personal recommendation: “ready or not” with samara weaving because goddamn i dont usually watch this genre but holy s h i t is it good

93 - whats the hairstyle you wear the most?

honestly just plain hair down (because having curly hair is a menace), split in the middle when i have longer hair and split on one side when its short

also low ponytails or half-up-half-down when im exercising, or double french braids when my hair doesnt cooperate enough to look presentable in any other form

99 - list some songs that resonate with your soul whenever you hear them

this is difficult because my music taste is a goddamn rollercoaster on a good day, but heres some:

- me and the sky from “come from away” musical (this is sort of a test song for my mental stability, if i cry i aint stable)

- dancing after death by matt meason (okay most songs by matt meason except for like,,, hallucinogenics maybe)

- tears and rain by james blunt

- i will follow you into the dark by death cab for cutie

- almost home by mxmtoon

- anything by hozier really but shrike especially

- payphone, the cover by alex g (i cried to this song so many times)

- burning pile by mother mother (can i roast all my problems please)

- long way from home and cleopatra by the lumineers

- autoclave by the mountain goats

oooh that was c o o o o o o o l as fuck thank you sm so much bebe (and sorry for the long post @everyone else)

#smadhuman being pure af #bay answers #long post #very long post #ask #asks

4 notes · View notes

leeknow-bestboy · 4 years

Text

If You Close One Eye - Chapter One

Ships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Bang Chan/Yang Jeongin | I.N, If you really squint you can notice Lix is into Binnie, Hyunjin was into everyone once

Characters: All the kids, The ex kid isn't here I edited him out, Other Character Tags to Be Added

Trigger warnings: panic attack, ptsd, original character death, homophobia, original character cheating, descriptive imagery.

Word count: 5277

Chapter: 1/?

Next chapter

Tags: Murder Mystery, amateur detective minho, Soulmates, not your typical soulmate AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Slow Burn, Slow Build, good things take time let it slowburn, minho is singlehandedly responsible for the slow burn so blame him, no soulmates in this universe only they are, criminology student minho, art student jisung, POV Third Person, chan deserves better and he does indeed get better don't worry, art references please look stuff up, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, best sibling bond ever.

"If you close one eye, you can see what your soulmate sees"

Born with one eye an unnatural golden color, Minho and Jisung have been forced to cover them up with colored lenses in order to blend into society.

The magic to their eyes? Even they still didn't know.

This is the story of how criminology major and dance minor Lee Minho found himself hopelessly in love with the serial killer, local artist Han.

[Alternatively, let's see how long I can make these two dumbasses pine without one of them snapping. Edit: they finally did]

[Also WARNING: a HUGE amount of Jeongchan ahead, it's not subtle at all! So much fluff--]

As per usual, the playground was packed; children of all ages ran wild, squalling and laughing like the little menaces they were- all of them avoiding a short kid who couldn't be older than five, seated at the very end of the sandbox and holding back tears of offense and loneliness.

It's not that he got bullied, he wasn't. His mom raised a tough kid who'd bite back when he's bit, but no one would play with him now. Not with how he looks, they'd rather scream and run.

Five year olds shouldn't worry about that.

Rubbing his left eye- the good one, he could see a woman's shoulder and hair. Her smile, bright and comforting, wording out a song with no sound.

"Jisung!" His mother's voice rang aloud, recognizable and warm in the hostile environment.

"Baby," She called again, finding him and wrapping her son in her arms. For the moment, there was no strange woman- only his own mother.

Jisung sniffled. "I hate people." -These words that shouldn't be said by a child flowed so easily from his lips, as if it was the only reasonable conclusion.

"We need to talk about something" his mother's voice, once excited and lively sounded utterly defeated. Little did he know, it was the last time. Years of telling him he's perfect just the way he is, special and unique in a good way, definitely- have ended up making no difference in the end.

That day, he learned to put on contact lenses.

"I know you're upset about the divorce, but you have to accept that it happened."

The woman's voice, high pitched and unpleasant, drove Minho ever so slightly closer to the edge. By now he knew no adult in the world would ever take him seriously, so what was the point in sitting here and listening to her talk?

The woman pursed her lips, plump and telling of the many times they went under the scalpel. Tapping her foot, she hazily reminded Minho of his own mother when scolding was due.

"If you don't talk to me, that's fine. Nothing's going to change. I get paid by the hour you know, I can do this all day."

That being said, she was probably stressed- no therapist had ever gotten Minho to talk, he's been changing doctors since his hallucinations began, which adds to a little over three years now.

"Minho, I can't help you like this. Tell your mother I give up."

A sense of dread spread over the eight years old. Again, another adult doesn't get it. Another one giving up on him, leaving, and suddenly he wanted her to stay. Pretty badly he did, at the time.

"I don't care that my parents broke up, I've been seeing monsters all day"

The woman blinked, stunned into silence. At the tinge of tears he rubbed his right eye- and there it was, certain as ever; drawn with a sharpie, people with horns. In a moment, a pair of hands that weren't his took the drawing away and pulled out a new one, drawing harshly a sad smiley face.

Although he was a big boy, he cried right then, scared out of his mind and very confused. He cried so hard it almost slipped off- the contact lens hiding his mother's disgrace.

Looking up, the woman made no effort to comfort or dissolve his fright. Rather, she was scribbling down the whole ordeal. Taking notes, furiously assessing and picking him apart, she finished her analysis smugly and said,

"It's time we get you a prescription, my dear"

And that was definitely not the last of it.

"Oppa"

Minho groaned lowly, alerting the speaker to the fact he's been woken from sleep.

"Minho oppa!" the voice persisted. Fully intent on hanging up, Minho side glanced at the caller id to make sure it wasn't important.

"Motherfucker!" the voice on the other end rose. From the corner of the bed Doongie meowed, alarmed.

"Freaking shrimp, what do you think you're calling your oppa?" He blurted. This isn't a call he should skip.

"Egg laying bastard! Answer me when I call you!" His sister's comforting voice trickled out.

"Gremlin twarp!"

"ballerina!"

"Whiny child!"

"Prune old man!"

"spoiled princess!"

"Mean hoe!"

"-!" Wheeze.

"I got you, you horrible gay bitch"

"We're both gay, Ryu" He threw back.

It's been a while since she last called.

"Well, you live alone, so I assume you're doing much gayer things than I can do at home."

Minho started, failing to hold back his horrified gasp. "Ryujin, you're eighteen!" He exclaimed. It seemed like yesterday she was still following him around, like some baby duckling.

"She's being mean Doongie, like you three don't count." He added, Ryujin electing to ignore his comment.

"How's dance going?" her tone changed, turning softer. For all their differences, dance for sure has always been something both loved and loved together. From copying idols on TV, to taking ballet and hiphop together, Jazz too.

"I'm not in college for dance and you know it" He groaned, immediately softening as well.

"I miss it a lot. I wish I could do more than minor in it.." On the other side of the call Ryujin hummed, understanding. She has always known his passion best.

"You're good at what you do too. You'd make a kickass detective." She claimed.

"I'm not taking criminology to be a detective." Why she had to be reminded was beyond him. If anything he aimed to be an officer, someone to tell kids off if they mess with the neighborhood cats.

"I'm just saying you could be!" She defended- which wasn't wrong, if he played job openings right. He did have a knack for picking apart mystery books too, but that was nothing out of the usual.

"How's grad life?" He asked with genuine interest. Nothing could ever matter to him more.

"I asked Chelle out, finally." She said, and Minho couldn't help but notice the edge evident in her voice.

"What happened? Did she let you down? Should I come over?" The questions left his lips before he could consider them, worry clouding over him.

"No, it's nothing like that. She said yes, but.. Yeah, oppa, I really wish you were here. I need to talk to you, face to face. Mom misses you too." She ended lamely. It was so unlike her, Minho couldn't find it in him to correct the fact that it was only Ryu's mom and not his.

"Tell her I'll be visiting tonight then, I'll go get ready." He said, fully intent on making the sudden drive over. It was only a two hour ride over to his father's, where Ryujin and his step mother lived too. If he headed out now, he could make it before dinner.

"Really? You don't have to, I know you hate it here-" Her attempts of taking it back wouldn't work once he set his mind to do something.

"Really really. I miss my stinky troll sister too," He insisted. No way was he leaving her be. The moment something felt off with her, he knew he had to go make sure she's fine; there aren't many things as precious in his life as she is.

"Dumbass," she relented, voice worryingly relieved. "I'll go tell mom."

He smiled, tapping his nail on the headboard, now sitting up at his bed. "Bye"

She huffed, pausing for a moment before giving her last reply. "Goodbye, oppa. I love you."

Minho sighed, leaning his forehead against the steering wheel.

For what little time he spent at his father's place, a surprising amount of bad memories were made. Up until his teen years he wouldn't even enter, and every time after that made for a rich history; first panic attack, first time breaking a leg falling down the stairs, coming out, taking Ryu to junior prom- door shut in his face that time, claiming she was grounded for beating up the neighbor's son. First time stung by a bee, and that weekend when his father's doberman puppy bit him in play, tore open his front lip and got sent to a dog pound despite his protest.

'Come on,' he thought. 'You can do this. Count to three-' and at three he did, opened his car door and walked up through the front gate.

"Minho! How lovely to see you." Smiled his step mom, a warm, if not a tad unnerving woman.

"Nice to so see you too. How have you been?" He asked, clean-cut manners kicking in. Dal and Byul had meanwhile made their way running over to the door, immediately rubbing against him with some level of desperation. He leaned down, rubbing Dal's small head.

"I've been well, your father too- that's right! Honey, come say hi to Minho." The short, lean woman called, still blocking the entrance to the oversized house and keeping Minho at the door. Whether this was on purpose shall forever remain a mystery- she did it every time.

"That brat has nothing to do in this house" His father's voice warmed over.

"Hi dad." He tried still, calling over the woman's shoulder. "Can I come in?"

Said obstacle smiled, moving aside at last. "Of course sweetie, Ryujin will be right over."

Taking that exchange for what it was, he made fast pace towards the kitchen. Avoiding his father has become a praised skill by now, a crucial one by all means.

"Dallie, Byulie, psps" he tried, pleased when both ran on over towards his outstretched hand. Two more allies at the ready.

Light steps cleared the remaining discomfort sullying his mood in short moments. "You!" A pair of arms tightened around his shoulders, prompting Minho to lift his little sister in a piggyback.

"You too!" He answered, relieved at feeling welcomed at last.

"I can't believe you actually came. Did you tell your mother you're over?" She asked, tactless as ever. He loves her a whole lot for that, too.

"She's not the boss of me, I'm twenty one" He announced, eyes closed in a content smile as his sister gently pet his hair like a cat.

"What about me? I'm almost nineteen, I wish I was free like you, Lino!" Exclaimed Ryujin, but really she didn't. There was a certain freedom gained from nobody caring about you that no one should be jealous of.

Letting her hop back onto the ground, Minho kept the smile on his face. She seemed fine, but he could tell better. Still, they couldn't talk before dinner- the pots and pans at the stovetop smelled just about ready, after all.

Instead he turned to face her, petting her head lovingly like she had his. "What's this? This tiny Ryuddaeng's nineteen? No way."

"Almost!" she growled. "Next month I'll be."

"Where have the times gone?" he questioned, shoving her playfully at the comments of "old man".

Dinner went as uncomfortably as expected, his father and he had behaved remarkably well- hadn't spoken a word to each other throughout. Minho ate neatly, made sure to compliment his step mother for every dish, and Ryujin helped by washing them after. All in all, it was successful unlike many dinners before.

Making way to the guest bedroom, Minho paused at the sight of his sister's door left slightly open. Right, yes- this would be a good time.

Knocking quietly, he waited for permission before entering and closing the door, waiting for Byul to enter alongside him. "Are you alright?"

Ryujin nodded, glancing up at him and back to the floor. He took that as a sign to take a seat down on her fancy dragon themed carpet.

"Are you really alright? Ryujin, I know we're not great communicators, but I'm still very worried. Is it dad?" At that his sister shook her head, taking a deep breath.

"Don't get mad, but I have a huge favor. You know Chelle, I swore I'll ask her out when I graduate and I did, but she…" Minho crossed and uncrossed his legs, chin finding its place resting on a knee. Byul purred, rubbing against it.

"She's missing. She's been missing for two weeks now, no one knows where she is." She explained, voice stern.

"I don't think she ran away, but her parents keep saying she did. She said nothing to me." She added, hoping he'd fill in the rest on his own.

"They're not filling in for missing person?" He asked, worry making his back stress and ace.

Ryujin nodded. "I know she's the bad girl type, but she wasn't into drugs and her friends seem fine. I keep trying to ask around but I can't, what if something serious happened?"

Minho nodded, realizing where he comes in. "You want me to investigate? See where that takes us?" He asked. For sure, that should be the police's job- but with her parents saying she ran away, would they even bother?

Ryujin kept quiet, eyes burning holes into Minho's. This was her crush, a big one- he's never liked Chelle, but now? If Ryujin cares that much… sure. It's not something he should be messing with legally, and a new project to be added atop his ever growing college work, but he'd do it for her. "Okay."

"Okay?" Ryujin asked back, relieved.

"Yes. I'll do it." He assured.

Ryujin's features softened farther, mouth breaking into a smile. "You're my new favorite person."

Minho smiled lightly, mind running full speed. "I need details. When and where she was last seen, and about her; exes, Instagram, friends and hangouts."

Ryujin's smile faded. Nonetheless she turned, pulling a notebook out of her bedside drawer.

Scribbling away the details he requested, she paused to ask a couple questions before turning back to her chore. "I know less than I thought." She admitted.

"That's fine, but I have a few more. How was her mental state, where did she study, was she on meds and did she mention any places?"

This kept on for a few hours, ending after they let an annoyed Byul out of the room - with Ryujin tiredly announcing that her brain is fried and he can ask the rest over chat when he's back in college. On his end, Minho learned one important thing:

This girl was not who she seemed to be.

Back at his apartment, Minho re-read all eleven papers of info they've gathered. On the way he's prepared a list of places to visit, only two of which stemmed from the info Ryujin herself had given him. Other than the school and family bistro down the street, it seemed the two have never gone out together, although Chelle was one to do so.

Good, he thought.

Scrolling through her Instagram, he noted which followers seemed to comment more, and who would show most often on highlights. Her latest post have been boring- it was landscape art of what he assumed to be a tall grass field on the outskirts of seoul. Around three months back he found a picture of some guy at the beach, shirt off and abs in clear view. Seeing as he looked nothing like Chelle, it would seem they weren't related.

Sorting through the packed comment section, someone's request to take it down stood out. Tapping on the person's icon, he realized that was probably the guy in the picture, although the account was made private. An ex? That would make a good trail.

Not having an account himself, by now Minho has used Ryujin's, but to follow guys it would seem he needs his own account.

Setting up all the necessities, he took a nice picture of Dori and made it his profile, sending the guy a follow request right away.

Now we wait.

"Oppa, if you have no photos or description and no followers, and he doesn't know you, did you really expect he'd approve your request?" Ryujin's laughter trickled through the speakers, as if it's been obvious. "You're going to have to find him." She pointed, before hesitantly adding, "Or I can-"

"No." Minho said, stern. "This guy could be Chelle's ex, he might be really dangerous! You don't get to follow his Instagram."

Ryujin sighed, and Minho got the sudden mental image of her rubbing the bridge of her nose as she did. "You have friends right? Ask one of them." She advised.

"I need to go, dad said I can't go out unless I finish these applications." She explained, hanging up after a round of goodbyes.

Right. He did! He has friends.

Picking his phone back up, Minho scrolled his contacts looking for either Felix or Hyunjin. The two weren't in his major, but they shared a dance class. Out of the student body, they were closest to his definition of friends.

A couple rings went by before the line picked up. "Hyung? Hello!" Felix's cheerful voice calmed the older's nerves ever so slightly.

"Felix, hi." He answered, trying to seem casual. "How are you?"

Felix took a moment before responding. "I'm great! I'm actually out with Chan hyung, is something up?"

"Who?" Minho asked, confused.

Felix took another moment. "Bang Chan. He's a fourth year in sociology, I don't think you'll know him."

Minho came close to a sob right then. "Can you pass him the phone?"

"Yeah sure." Felix agreed immediately, followed by ruttling sounds.

"Hello?" A voice sounded, accent similar to Felix's own.

"Hi! My name is Minho, I followed you on Instagram a couple days ago."

A short silence. "Oh my god." Chan exclaimed.

"No, never mind that, I need to talk to you." He rephrased.

"I have no idea who you are." Chan replied, confused.

"It's about Chelle." Minho added, hoping to learn anything from the other's reply.

"Oh." Was all he got. "Okay, I guess we should meet sometime then. How is she?"

The question caught Minho off guard.

"I, I'll tell you more when we meet. When are you free?" he asked, quickly seeking out a pen and scribbling the time and date on his wrist, phone squeezed between his ear and shoulder.

"Yeah, sounds great! See you then." He concluded, getting passed back to Felix and thanking him profoundly before hanging up.

"In my own college." He muttered after the phone found its place back on the table.

"Unbelievable."

Not many people occupied the café, despite its convenient location not far off the olympic park. For that reason Minho concluded, the coffee there probably sucked.

It wasn't his intention to show fifteen minutes early, but his nerves got the best of him, taking shape in miserable pacing until he deemed it late enough to leave his apartment already. Worst case scenarios running through his mind, he wasn't expecting it as someone took seat in the chair opposite of his.

"Hello. It's Minho, right?" Asked the stranger, dimples forming in an awkward smile.

"Ah." Minho voiced dumbly before quickly picking himself up adding,

"You're Chan?"

In the short time that passed between first learning of Chan's existence and actually seeing him, Minho's mind managed to fill with expectations and fears, all of which shattered right in that moment.

First of all, the guy in the picture had very defined abs and arm muscles, making it seem as if he'd be your average muscle-head, someone who could pull apart limbs off boys like Minho- a description that apparently had nothing in common with the hesitant and awkward person in front of him. Rather, he found that this Chan was a tad shorter than him, barely filling the light gray sweater he threw on.

Secondly, while the photo showed a man with straight dark brown hair, the man in front of him had soft blond curls that seemed so, so fluffy- invoking a primal urge to pet them in, Minho assumed, not only himself, but also every innocent bystander.

Lastly, by the amount of english in his Instagram description, one would expect an obvious accent, but that had been proven false on the phone call anyway. Regardless, Minho imagined a foreigner, so seeing his face up close had been a surprise on its own, especially considering the smile… he was, how would he put it? Cute.

"Yeah! Nice to meet you. I was worrying I'd be early, but it's good to see you are too." Minho could only half process the words, a glance at his phone telling him they both still had around ten minutes before the planned meetup time.

"Right! Right, I wanted to talk to you." Minho started, forcibly clearing his mind of any strange thoughts.

"You said it was about Chelle? I assume you're her new boyfriend?" Chan asked, voice a bit strained.

"No, It's not like that. I wanted to know if you've heard from her for the last couple weeks." Minho replied, quick to correct him so to not make things needlessly awkward. Right, he thought- Chan still might have had something to do with this girl's disappearance.

"Oh, well, I actually hadn't, I try not to do that anymore. We didn't end things on good terms." Chan confessed, picking Minho's interest.

"What happened?" He asked, worries picking back up.

Chan paused. "Are you her friend? This kind of thing is a little personal, I don't want it to affect your friendship."

Minho blinked, thinking up a smaller scale storm. "I live in her neighborhood. We're not very close, but some things happened that made me look for you."

Chan hesitated, saved by the waiter's interruption asking which drinks the two would have. Still suspicious, Minho only ordered a small iced americano, Chan matching with a small iced tea.

"You probably know we dated for around two months, it ended after I found she was cheating for a long time."

Minho's breath hitched, dangerously close to choking on his coffee. "She cheated on you?"

Chan's expression fluttered before he nodded, sheepish smile back on. "Kind of pathetic, isn't it? I couldn't hold her attention. At least, the others didn't know."

Minho gaped, unsure how to handle the new information. Chelle, the girl Ryujin asked him to look for. Was that her true nature? "What do you mean others?"

Chan's embarrassment grew, yet he didn't look away. "We were around.. five, I think.. that I know of. I followed her for a bit."

The awkwardness settled, leaving both speechless.

"Okay, I'm really sorry but I still need to ask you a couple more things." Minho was the first to break the silence.

"Go ahead." Chan smiled in relief.

"Were you mad? Wait, no- Can you think of anyone who could have held a grudge against her? More than, I guess, this."

Chan shook his head. "She's a really nice girl! She has some serious issues, but I liked her a lot at the time."

Minho bit his lip, ready to push on. "Chan, I'm going to be honest with you.. Chelle's been missing for over two weeks now."

If Chan was drinking at the moment, it would have been his turn to choke. "What?" he asked, voice steady.

"I got in touch with you because right now, nobody knows where she is. Or someone does know, but I don't" Minho explained, hoping his message went through alright.

"Are you sure she's not ghosting you? She might be." Chan offered. Minho stiffened. If Chelle was fine, if she was ghosting his sister- there will be hell to pay.

"I don't think so?" he continued anyway.

"I can't remember a specific person who would want to hurt her, but.. God, I'm worried. Chelle's gone? Like, kidnapped or.." Chan paused, taking deep breaths.

"If you have any information on where she could be, it would help a lot. I don't know her well, I'm not sure who else to ask either." Minho added.

"What do you want to know?" Chan asked, worry clouding his face in an unpleasant way. Minho almost felt, scratch that- he did feel really bad for the guy.

"Hangouts, friends, habits, names of other exes- mental state too, it's a little invasive but I can't find her otherwise." Chan stared, eye contact with Minho intensifying as neither averted their gaze.

"Okay." Chan replied after a while. "I don't really know you, but I guess it suits her. If anything happened, I wouldn't expect an officer anyway."

Slightly disturbed, Minho pulled his notes from his bag, offering Chan a big sheet of paper. Just like that, the two had begun- Just as Minho had with Ryujin before.

"I can't help with other Exes, I don't know any of their names. I do know where she hangs out usually." Chan supplied helpfully.

"Chelle, she's very into art. She thinks her art, only hers, is the best of the best. She considers herself an undiscovered gem, that kind of mentality. She'll do anything for exposure, and she likes compliments a lot." Chan bit his lip, pausing in his writing.

"She's not on good terms with her parents, and sometimes I remember, she said she wanted to run away. She has horrible mood swings, but when she's happy she can be the sweetest, most considerate person in the world. I think she had too much love in her, that's why…" Chan trailed off, sighing before shaking his head and writing down some more details.

"I'm not okay with that, you know? It's the worst kind of betrayal, but I'm still so worried. I never wanted anything to happen to her, I don't wish that for anyone." Minho hummed, recalling back on his previous suspicion, how ridiculous it seemed now to think that of this person.

So it went on, the two of them coming up with important details and question marks to jot down. Before they knew it the sky turned dark, an impatient barista politely asking them to leave.

"You have my number, right?" Chan asked.

"I don't." Minho replied, glad Chan remembered. The two exchanged phones, filling in their details with some hesitation.

"Call me if you need anything, or if you find her." Chan added, eyes glinting under the streetlights.

"You too, call me if you remember anything important." Minho replied, parting with a wave goodbye and heading towards the bus station.

It was only on his way back that he recalled their first exchange through the phone, and how stupid it had been to expect anything else from a friend of Felix's, of all people.

Groaning lowly, Minho moved his bag up, staring at the paper pile stuffed inside it neatly. Ahead was, he expected, a night full of reading- all 38 new pages of details about this girl, who he found himself liking less and less with every passing statement.

Over an extended time period Minho had found himself visiting many different places to no avail. He tried asking around, dropping Chelle's name here and there for good measures, but it seemed that the girl had vanished into thin air. Her only legacy had been the outrageous rumors surrounding her name, such as dating kids much younger than herself and having sex to get her way in the art world. Really, Minho should have stopped there- he wanted nothing to do with this girl anymore, was happy even; happy that she didn't get to lay her hands on his sister. Yet he couldn't stop thinking, this girl.. She was missing, it was real, and not one soul other than him have made a single attempt to locate her. How could he give up now?

It had been a long day- visiting a bar from the list in the morning before moving to a café nearby and finishing one of his assignments, Minho decided to follow up on Chelle's tracks. Twelve days have passed since his meeting with Chan, and although his anxiety kept getting worse, the list of things to check kept getting shorter with every lead he crossed out.

This one had honestly been a lame lead, but he wanted to make the most out of it- a short trip out of seoul, to a grass patch stretching a couple miles that was similar to the one he saw on her Instagram. If he couldn't find her with anyone's help, he thought- maybe he should try to think like her more. This girl, where would she go? Who would she meet? What would she do? And for that this practice was important, too.

The land stretched, tall grass for as far as the eye could see. He roamed around, looking at the tall buildings that made his home from afar. From here, definitely- he recognized the scenery as the one she drew that time. Stepping back through the grass, it didn't make much of a difference from how far he's already been, but the moment felt special somehow.

Minho breathed in, a strong breeze blowing from the front and carrying the dust and pollution of the city with it. Bad air, even this far back. At least it was silent, no cars, no birds either- it felt peaceful. Minho stepped back again, pulling out his phone, intending to take a photo. A couple more steps back, and he tripped- landing on his butt in the grass.

It was there that he found her.

Jisung stretched, back aching after sleeping in so late.

"Good morning, and good luck falling back asleep at a normal hour." Seungmin commented. True that, Jisung managed to mess his sleep schedule pretty badly. Good thing it was friday.

Standing up, he considered responding before giving up and making his way to the kitchen.

"Ji," Seungmin spoke up once more,

"At least brush your teeth. I'm your roommate, not your mom- I shouldn't have to tell you this!" His voice, although annoyed, remained calm. He did have a point.

"Okay mom." Jisung replied, deadpan. Without another word he turned, entering the bathroom and picking up his toothbrush to do as instructed.

Life as an art major was hard- he had so much work to do in little time, and the pressure made it feel a little like a job. Nowadays his minor in music made for the only stress reliever he could put time into without guilt, and he wondered if maybe he should have chosen it for major instead. Useless thinking about it now, anyway.

Jisung went on brushing, releasing a small whine at the thought of his next assignment. Whatever- he rolled his eyes, raising a hand to rub the remains of sleep away.

Tall grass, the clear view of seoul from afar- blurring, moving, fast as if he was struck by lightning.

The toothbrush clinked loudly against the sink as it dropped, leaving Jisung with the reflection of himself in the mirror, left hand raised. He made quick way, spitting the paste and powerwalking back to their room, brushing against Seungmin on his way there.

"Jisung? Jisung, you can't just leave this here." Seungmin bristled, pausing at the sight of Jisung pulling out his sketchbook with the craze of someone going through a revelation.

He sighed, recognizing the scene in front of him. "Inspiration struck?"

Jisung hummed, wiping his mouth and beginning to sketch. This happened every once in a while, it was one of the things that made Jisung… well, Jisung.

"I'll clean up. Should I order takeout?" Seungmin asked, affection sneaking into his voice. He's a bit weird, but sometimes he was cute too.

"Thank you, please." Jisung replied absentmindedly, focused on the paper.

"I will. Okay." Seungmin concluded, fishing his phone out to call his favorite fast food handler.

To them, after all, it was nothing more than an average friday night.

23 notes · View notes

cptsdstudyblr · 4 years

Text

I got a new planner!

[Image descriptions are available at the bottom of the post.]

[Image description after text because it is very long.]

This year, I’ve really been struggling with the digital planner system that’s gotten me through the past 4 years of school. Honestly, I think the fact that all I ever do anymore is stare at my laptop has made that planner less practical for me to use. So, today, I was out and about trying to find a specific size of envelope (which I did not find) and I ended up at YP Books (영풍문고), where I found this planner (the Color Point Study Planner). I honestly picked it up just because it was there and it was cute, but when I opened it I was struck by how well-organized this planner was for someone who likes to plan the way I do. To plan, I need a delicate balance of structure and leniency, because if I tip too far one way or the other, I’ll never accomplish anything.

It’s got this really cute monthly page (which can be customized for any month). You do have to write the days yourself, and as you can see by my scribbles, I momentarily forgot that not every month starts on a Sunday. However, this page is super versatile! I write my assignments and exams here and color code those days, and I use the unlabeled checklist at the bottom right to make a brief to-do list for the month. Once I finish something, it gets marked off or highlighted! I think this is a really helpful way to visualize my schedule and make sure I don’t lose track of any due dates.

Each month also comes equipped with daily pages. Once again, you do have to customize these yourself, but that’s part of what I like about it. I can skip days if I need to and I can make sure that the page handles what I need how I need it. These pages are quite complicated, but I’ll give you the basics of how I use them.

At the top, there are 3 blanks after the date. One is labelled “D-Day,” but I instead use this to label the day of the week as I find that much more useful for me, then I fill out how many hours I plan to study (I do this at the beginning of the day so that it motivates me), then I put my general goal or plan for the day to the right. Below that, in the “Check Point” space, I put the two biggest goals I have for the day task-wise. These are usually my highest-priority tasks.

Obviously, the bulk of the space is used for a checklist, which I use to outline all the tasks I need to do that day, both school and otherwise. To the right, in the schedule space, I plan my day to make sure I can get everything done that I need to get done. There’s also a space at the bottom that I use to write events and extremely important tasks (such as exams and due dates).

Overall, the point of this post is that it’s really important to find an organizational system that works for you, whether it be digital or paper. My personal suggestion for figuring out your best system is just trial and error. Unfortunately, trial and error can be quite expensive, so I’ll include below some tips to find a good system for you without breaking the bank:

Try digital first! Most digital platforms are free (or at least have free trials), so this is a great place to start to save money. It’s also a great way to figure out what elements of different systems work for you - even if digital isn’t your thing, you might realize that you prefer a to-do list over a calendar, or that you work really well with a super structured study schedule. That info can help you find a paper planner that will work well for you.

Go to the store and look at physical planners. Once you have an idea of what you’re looking for in a planner, go to a physical store (or multiple) and spend some time looking through a bunch of planners. Once again, even if you don’t like any of them, this might help give you an idea of what you do and don’t like.

Print out (or draw) planner pages. If you want to test out a style of physical planner without buying it, find an online PDF or create your own and print a few to test out. You can also draw it (just make sure to take a photo in the store so you can do so accurately) in a regular notebook for testing purposes.

Do research. There’s lots of different methods of planning schedules, keeping track of due dates, and journaling besides the typical Google calendar and to-do list or the standard paper planner. A great example is bullet journaling, which allows you to create your own planner and change it up as you want.

Eventually you’ll figure out what planning style works best for you, and you’ll find the perfect paper planner to purchase if that’s what you decide is your best option.

[Image description after the read more:]

[Image description:

Image 1/4: There’s a pink notebook. On the cover are a man and a woman holding smiley face signs over their faces. Below them, text reads “Anything is good if I can do it with you. Whether it’s laughing together, studying together, or playing together, everything is twice as wonderful when you are doing it with me.” In the top left, a blue sticky note covers the user’s name and on it is written “@cptsdstudyblr.”

Image 2/4: This is a two-page notebook spread. The pages are white with a purple outline. The page is titled “How to Use Study Planner.” The two pages detail how each page of the planner is intended to be used, but most of the text is in Korean (transcription note: according to Google, the Korean alphabet would not work with English screen-readers, so I haven’t included this text). There are 7 steps labelled in English for using the planner.

About my goal

Time table

Monthly study plan

Daily study plan

Exam plan & result

Internet lecture check

Mock test record & graph

Transcription note: I’m happy to provide the Korean contents of the page for anyone who is interested, but I don’t want to break everyone’s screen readers.

Image 3/4: This is a two-page monthly calendar spread. The pages are primarily white, with a yellow bar across the top. The number 10 is circled in the top right to indicate that the page is for the 10th month. The days of the week start from Sunday and go to Saturday. The month is labelled from date 1 (a Thursday) to date 31 (a Saturday). Below are listed dates with special notes:

October 4 - Micro HW. This date is highlighted purple, and the text is highlighted yellow to indicate that the assignment is complete.

October 7 - Networks HW. This date is highlighted purple, and the text is highlighted yellow to indicate that the assignment is complete.

October 8 - Critical Thinking Paper. This date is highlighted purple, and the text is highlighted yellow to indicate that the assignment is complete.

October 10 - Korean HW. This date is highlighted purple, and the text is highlighted yellow to indicate that the assignment is complete.

October 11 - Micro HW. This date is highlighted purple, and the text is highlighted yellow to indicate that the assignment is complete.

October 15 - Micro HW. This date is highlighted purple.

October 18 - Micro HW. This date is highlighted purple.

October 22 - Comp Pol Exam. There is a bubble around the words and the date is highlighted pink.

On the far right is a cute, colorful drawing of a woman studying with her dog and the quote “It’s more fun when you study together than alone!” Below that is a checklist with the items “Vote!,” “Student ID,” and “Midterms.”

Image 4/4:

This is a two-page spread consisting of two daily planner pages. The pages are primarily white with a yellow outline. The leftmost page is as follows:

There are two columns on this page. The left column’s top row has three sections - “Date - 12,” “D-Day - Lun,” “Study Hours - 5.” (Transcription note: The “D-Day” blank is used for the day of the week instead of the proper use, and the days of the week are labelled in French rather than English.) The second row of that column is labelled “Check Point” and has two bullet points “catch up on micro” and “be ready to vote.” Below that is a small slot to put a song of the day, which is “SKZ (Transcription note: SKZ stands for Stray Kids) - Slump (Japanese ver.). Below is the checklist for the day. It includes both the priority and the item as follows:

HI - buy envelope

HI - micro lab video

HI - Korean class

MED - micro lecture

LO - micro HW (lecture)

MED - grocery shopping

HI - Korean HW

Below this checklist is a doodle of a woman studying.

The right column of this page starts on its top row with the slot “Goal,” which is filled with the phrase “catch up.” Below that, the user has indicated that they woke up at 11:30 and went to sleep at 1:30. Below that, they have colored 4 water drops out of 5 and given the day a score of 4 stars out of 5. Below that is a timetable for the day, which is filled with “Shop” from 13:00 - 14:30, “Study” from 15:30 - 17:00, 20:00 - 20:30, and 22:00 - 23:30, and “Korean” from 18:00 - 20:00. The right page is as follows:

There are two columns on this page. The left column’s top row has three sections - “Date - 13,” “D-Day - Mar,” “Study Hours - blank.” (Transcription note: The “D-Day” blank is used for the day of the week instead of the proper use, and the days of the week are labelled in French rather than English.) The second row of that column is labelled “Check Point” and has two bullet points “vote” and “micro HW.” Below that is a small slot to put a song of the day, which has been left blank. Below is the checklist for the day. It includes both the priority and the item as follows:

HI - drop off ballot

HI - comp. pol lecture

MED - micro HW (lab)

MED - micro HW (lecture)

HI - Korean HW

LO - religion series plan

Above this checklist is a doodle of a man sleeping.

The right column of this page starts on its top row with the slot “Goal,” which is filled with the phrase “micro HW.” Below that, the user has left the wake time, sleep time, water consumption, and daily score fields blank. Below those is a timetable for the day, which is filled with “Vote” from 9:00 - 11:00, “Study” from 12:00 - 14:00 and 14:00 - 18:00. The bottom of the page has been censored with two blue sticky notes that read “Plans for the day! Censored for safety reasons.”]

#university #college #high school #studying #study #study tips #studyblr #planner #planning #to do #todo #to-do #image description #accessibility

15 notes · View notes

luckystarchild · 3 years

Text

2020 Retrospective

Thanks to Tumblr’s archive function and my constant posting, it’s easy to recap how 2020 went for me. Let’s take a look below the cut.

In late December of 2019, I came off of an unplanned 7-month hiatus, bringing LC back into active posting status on its third birthday. Updates continued throughout 2020, no more unplanned hiatuses in sight.

In February I was apparently very stressed, I think from work. But I started updating Daughters of Destiny again after a long break, and I ended up finishing that story this year. I think it’s my favorite thing I’ve written as Star Charter.

In March, Lucky Child reached the climax of the Dark Tournament arc. We also celebrated Lucky Child’s 100th chapter, an enormous milestone I’m still shocked we reached! I also went into lockdown this month. I thought I’d be back to work in a few months, but here we are on New Year’s Eve and there is no word on when I (or anyone else) will be returning to normal life.

Also in March, I also took it upon myself to try to begin “Lucky’s Ask Marathon of 2020,” in which I answered answer DOZENS of asks in a short time in an attempt to clean out my askbox… but answering them is like rolling a boulder up a hill, and even though I answered nearly 80 asks, I still have 200+ in my inbox.

In April, I tortured all of you with cliffhangers (seriously, the number of all-caps Asks was hilarious) as NQK’s secret came out at long last. I also wrote more than 55k words that month, apparently! Additionally, I completed Daughters of Destiny and Scooby Doo, Where Are Yu-Yu?

May marked the introduction of Animal Crossing into my life! I also made a bunch of memes that characterized the YYH characters based on their quarantine habits, which was a ton of fun. On a somber note, this month was characterized by Black Lives Matter protests across the US. I volunteered driving protestor’s home from the county jail. I was angry that month. I still am.

June continued in the vein of May. I pissed off some readers by talking about BLM, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

In July, the reality of COVID really sank in, hard. I was quite depressed. Anti-maskers were flooding my social feeds with ignorance, and not being able to see my family for July 4 (an annual tradition) hurt.

In August, 2020!NQK was born as a result of the impact of COVID, civil unrest, and the other disasters that have made 2020 so infamous. RIOT CHILD is perhaps the most collaborative project I’ve ever worked on, and putting it together was a nice distraction (ironically) from 2020 itself.

September was an exciting month! NQK collapsed and visited her home world, prompting wild speculation from readers that I thoroughly enjoyed, and it was also my birthday! Tom had a moment in the spotlight; I answered many asks about him in the wake of his starring role in that month’s LC chapters… also my water main burst that month, and it was awful.

In October, I wrote Scribbled in Secret, which I think is my favorite prompt collection yet and something I’m quite proud of. NQK’s powers also debuted as of chapter 116, revealing the plan I’d been hiding for years now.

In November I went on hiatus so write for NaNoWriMo. It was nice to take a break and recharge.

December heralded another pipe explosion just like the one I had in December 2019. I hope to NOT make this an annual tradition. But speaking of traditions, we explored Christmas traditions in “A Very Keirama Christmas,” which debuted for the Christmas season. I also talked more about my gender and became more comfortable with my ID.

I wish I had some big conclusions to draw about this year, but… I don’t. I’m proud of myself for keeping to a schedule and finishing some projects, and I’m immensely proud of how much I’ve written. And yet, I still feel like I didn’t progress through LC as much as I wanted, biweekly instead of weekly updates slowing the release of the story’s many chapters.

Still, this wordcount is nice.

In 2021, I hope to continually peck away at LC. I’d like to get more work done on RIOT CHILD, as it’s rather time-sensitive, and I want to do another prompt collection. Basically so long as I keep on at this steady pace, I’ll be happy in 2021.

Happy New Year to all of you, and see you next year.

#2020 #retrospect #luckychildfanfic #Happy New Year

5 notes · View notes

mae-i-scribble · 3 years

Text

I was tagged by @jukstapose (thank you for tagging!! :DD) and since my goal for this year is to be more active on this blog, this was a great chance.

name: Mae

gender: Most definitely a girl

star sign: Cancer

height: 5′8 or 172cm

time: 6:45pm

birthday: June!

favorite band: i dont really know that many bands off the top of my head,, mostly i just like certain songs, but uhh owl city,, bastille, mystery skulls and imagine dragons i guess

favorite solo artist: again, i tend to just focus on singular songs rather than artists, but sometimes people just have multiple songs i vibe to. id say a few are halsey, alec benjamin, siames, and mitski

last movie: im pretty sure it was The Witches (the 90′s version bc nostalgia)

last show: tgcf donghua is the latest ive completed, but im also watching So What I’m a Spider and Horimiya (i want there to be more fans of spider isekai so much please its so lonely with me and my 2 stick friends)

when did i create this blog: either 2017 or 2018,, can’t remember which but it’s been a hot minute

what i post: my art and drawing for whatever fandom im in atm, posts i find relatable, quiz games sometimes, convos i have with people, and I want to start posting more analysis type things

last thing i googled: i dont have search history but uhh i think i was looking up where to find giga drain in pokemon emerald because im doing a nuzlocke of it now and i wanted my cradily to have it (;-; you cant get it until post game)

other blogs: @maelikemaybelline is my reblog blog, all the things i like but i dont want to spam my main blog with go here

do i get asks: barely XD

why did i chose this url: i am physically incapable of choosing something that isnt a pun, and scribbling applies to both writing and drawing so it was fitting

following: 224

followers: 118

instruments: does playing the xylophone in elementary school count. i also played the tambourine for a school play once

what am i wearing: sweatpants and a charlie brown shirt with charlie and snoopy on it that says “life is better with a dog” (it’s a long time favorite of mine)

dream job(s): animal husbandry! id love to work with exotic animals, especially reptiles.

dream trip: honestly i dont really have one? tbh travel never appealed to me, but id love to go and see places with a lot of cool wildlife

favorite food: it’s too hard to pick one,, im a huge meat fan, but i also have a massive sweet tooth. ice cream and other cold sweets are the best

nationality: american

favorite song: i,,, cannot physically choose but i have been listening to Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths, The End and The Beginning and The Missing Piece both from Razia’s Shadow, and the ending song to the spider isekai (i love it more with every rewatch)

last book i read: the invisible man! I didnt finish it before having to return it to the library but it was good for the first half pffff

top 3 fictional universes i'd like to live in: hmm i’d love somewhere with magic and fantastical creatures, like pierce’s immortal quartet, or maybe his dark materials bc daemons neat. uhh,, in terms of tagging i guess @cangse-sanren and @gingermintpepper (if you guys want to no pressure)

#about mae #now yall have some fun facts :3

5 notes · View notes

monsterlovinghours · 4 years

Note

So... I found an interesting tweet and was wondering if you'd write something sexy for it.... "In Vietnam it's a popular belief that if you are single in your 20s there is a ghost following you and hindering your romantic life because it wants to be with you and I just want to tell my personal ghost to quit being a coward and fuck me already." Also I claim the ✨ Emoji, if that's okay?

That’s fine with me, Starburst! holy fucking moly this took me forever to finish and this turned out way longer than i had originally planned but fuck this is such a neat idea and it just kinda snowballed but it’s finally done hurrah!!!!

fem!reader, just bear with me i am soft and full of feelings and i need to self insert

Bitter tears stung her eyes as she unlocked the front door to her empty apartment. Her empty, cold, lonely apartment. Another unsuccessful first date, ruined before any real potential could be reached. Everything seemed to go wrong; first her car wouldn't start, then her Uber was late, the table next to theirs at the restaurant was noisy and obnoxious, and the movie they had wanted to see had been sold out. Her date hadn't offered any suggestions to further the date, just sighed and took her home. He didn't even try to touch her, barely looked at her, and that stung more than she cared to admit, to feel invisible and undesirable. If he was the first, second, or even the fifth, it might not have hurt quite so badly. But the numerous dates she had gone on since entering her twenties had all gone the same way, ending too soon without a single spark of chemistry. Was there something wrong with her? Was she that repulsive?

Sighing, she swallowed her tears for the moment and walked dejectedly to her bedroom, dropping her purse and keys as she went. Down came her hair from the careful twist she had pinned it into, Mediterranean blue waves spilling down her back, her dress shed and her shoes kicked off. Makeup removed and dressed in panties and an oversized shirt, she slipped into bed, curling up with a pillow hugged to her chest. Finally, she let the tears come, sobbing out her hurt, her frustration, her loneliness. She had thought that perhaps this would be the one that went somewhere, that she'd finally break the cycle and maybe, just once, she'd have the chance to feel wanted, to feel seen. To love and be loved, like everyone else. But no; either she was entirely unloveable, or some force out there was deliberately fucking things up for her. In desperation, she angrily muttered through her tears, "Whatever cosmic entity has decided that I'm going to be lonely and hurting forever, could you either fuck off or come fuck me yourself?"

Thud

Something fell from her desk, something relatively heavy, and she sat up with a start and a gasp, her heart hammering. Her journal had fallen to the floor, lying open on a date that was still several months in the future, and the pen that she kept tucked in the pages…was standing upright on the page, scribbling something onto the paper. Her heart rose up into her mouth, fluttering sickeningly. That...was...not normal. Slowly, she slid out of bed, approaching the journal as if it were a live thing, dangerous and fanged and unpredictable. The pen finished whatever it was writing and fell over, and she knelt to read the message it left behind.

i thought you'd never ask babe

She sat back, her eyes darting around the space as if she could catch a glimpse of the mysterious specter that seemed to be listening, watching. Her voice soft, hesitant and tremulous, she asked, "Is someone there?"

Instantly, the pen flew upright again, scratching something out just below its previous message.

been here the whole time sorry about your date.

"Oh my fucking god," she breathed, her pulse pounding in her ears. "Who...who are you? How long have you been here? Are you the one fucking with my love life?"

whoa one question at a time babes

To calm herself, she took a deep breath. "How long have you been following me?"

5 years

"Jesus." She let out a breath, unsurprised to feel her hands shake as she ran them back through her hair. "Why?"

its complicated id rather tell you face 2 face

Her brow furrowed, getting to her feet to switch on her light. "Okay. So come out and talk to me. Why are you hiding?” The pen scratched across the paper insistently.

invisible not hiding

“So...make yourself visible?” She crouched by the journal, noticing that the pen was digging into the paper so hard it was nearly tearing it.

Can’t until you say my name

“So what’s your name?”

Can’t tell you

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she groaned, throwing up her hands in exasperation. The pen suddenly flew across the room, where a poster that had been hanging on her wall swung loose, then fluttered to the ground. Her poster of the constellations. The pen was circling something, a name...the name of a star.

“Betelgeuse?”

Almost excitedly, the pen wrote next to the star, the words jagged and sloppy.

Two more times!!!

She paused, wondering if this was truly a good idea. “Beetlejuice.”

One more one more one more please baby gimme one more

One beat, then two, then she threw caution to the wind and spoke the word one final time. “Beetlejuice.”

Her light flickered, as if to announce the sudden appearance of a very real, very solid looking figure standing with their feet planted on her poster, wearing a suit of dirty black and white stripes and a grin that could light up a small town. “You said it! You finally said it! I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me for five fucking years and you finally said my name!” Before she could speak or even breathe, he had all but lunged for her, wrapping her up in his arms, the smell of damp earth filling her lungs even as he tried to squeeze the breath out of them. Ineffectually, she squirmed in his over-enthusiastic embrace, trying to wriggle away, to take a minute to process what the fuck was happening and who the fuck was standing in her bedroom right now.

“Wait wait, hold on, so...your name is Beetlej-”

“Shhhhh!” He clapped a hand over her mouth, shaking his head vehemently. “Don’t say it. I’m sorry babes, but I’ve waited too long for this to go tits-up now.” He lowered his hand slowly, that grin resurfacing. “Okay, so I know you’ve got a lot of questions and you must be pretty excited to meet your own personal ghost but before we get to the boring stuff I gotta do one thing first.” Without giving her a chance to ask, his hands slid to her waist, pulling her to him even as he dipped her back and kissed her, his lips like ice, though surprisingly soft. What surprised her most was not the kiss itself, but rather her lack of aversion to it; she tried to tell herself it was because she hadn’t been kissed in so long that she was desperate for any kind of affection, even the strange, otherworldly, and rather abrupt kind. Oddly enough, she even found herself kissing him back, her fists gripping the lapels of his coat as he set her upright again. That Cheshire grin still hitched the corners of his mouth high, and his gaze raked over her like a physical caress, cool, white hands still curved in her waist.

"Alright. Fire away, babes, ask me anything."

"Um…" Her head spun, thoughts racing, heart still pounding a chaotic timpani in her ears. "Did...did you say 'my own personal ghost'?"

"I sure did. You're one of the lucky gals that gets a ghost attached to ya when you reach adulthood. And you've got the luck of the draw, sweet stuff, because you managed to snag the Ghost with the Most!" His thumbs hooked into his suspenders, though oddly enough, two hands still stayed clasping her waist.

"And you...you've been fucking with my dates...screwing around with my love life for five years?"

Her voice raised a bit in pitch, and he had the presence of mind to look sheepish. "Sorry about that, but none of those schmucks were good enough for you. I had to scare 'em off, you're mine."

"Excuse me??" She broke his grasp, stepping away from him as her brows knitted together in hurt and anger. "I've spent five years convinced there was something wrong with me, that I was repulsive or unattractive or unlovable, because no one ever made it past the first date, and you waited this long to tell me that it was you the whole time? Do you have any idea how worthless I felt after each failed date? How broken a-and defective I felt? How-”

“Hey hey, take it easy for a second, dollface!” He grasped at her wrists; until he grabbed them, she hadn’t realized how wildly she was gesturing. “Look, I tried. I’ve been trying since the moment I saw you to get you to talk to me. It ain’t exactly easy for the dead to communicate with the living. But you knew I was there, didn’t you? Hasn’t every house you’ve lived in felt just a little bit haunted?” She paused, thinking back to all the doors she had closed but hadn’t opened, the objects on the floor that had been sitting secure on a shelf when she’d left, the quiet moments when she couldn’t sleep when she swore she could feel eyes on her. Encouraged by her pause, he continued. “You breathers are stubborn, you just don’t wanna see what’s right under your noses. Until tonight, I barely had enough influence on the living world to push a piece of paper off the desk. But you...you called for me. You finally gave in and called for me.” He grinned again, and though the fangs should have made him seem frightening and demonic, he just seemed...relieved. “I was finally able to tell you my name, and let me tell ya, there hasn’t been a single sound in my very, very long existence sweeter than you calling my name.”

She took a deep breath in, processing everything he had told her, everything that had happened in...god, had it only been three minutes? “What did you mean when you said that...I was yours? What does that mean?”

He shrugged, pulling her closer, his hand pressing against the small of her back. “Means you’re mine, babe. It means that you’re my girl.” Something dulled the gleam in his eyes, and to her surprise, the green in his hair began to fade to a deep, shamed violet. “I was there for every night you fell asleep cryin’ over some guy who would have only hurt you in the end. It gutted me that I couldn’t do anything to help. You’re my baby, and I don’t like to see you hurt, and I really don’t like being the one to hurt you. But it had to be done. You didn't belong with any of them." He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut as his hair faded back to green, as if he were forcing the color to appear. "We're wasting too much time talking when I should be kissing you."

"W-We just met!" The outrage on her voice felt like a show, a dutiful proper response to finding a green-haired, handsy ghost in her bedroom. But she hadn't once tried to wriggle out of his arms, unconsciously leaning closer when his hand slid up her spine.

Beetlejuice shook his head, stepping into her, strands of pink peeking through the green of his hair as he felt her body against his, solid and oh, so warm. "We've known each other for years, honey. You may not have had a face or a name, but deep down you've always known I was there. If I was just some stranger, you'd have run for the hills by now." She wanted to argue, but as much as she didn't want to admit it, he was right. His presence felt familiar, like a memory from her past she had all but forgotten about, but the emotions attached still lingered. It was why she hadn’t struggled when he reached for her, hadn’t tried to shake off his grasp, had kissed him back. His grin widened when she didn’t argue or protest, and he pulled her close, her body flush to his; he all but purred at the way her lashes fluttered, her hands naturally settling on his shoulders, as if they had done this a hundred times.

“Let me kiss you,” he rasped, holding her chin in his hand. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long, babe, please...let me give you a real kiss.” There wasn’t much more than a fraction of a second of hesitation before she nodded, gaze flicking to his mouth just before the distance closed and her brought her lips to his. With that first urgent kiss out of the way, this one was softer, more patient, sweet, and when she felt his tongue trace the seam of her lips, she parted them without question. Oh, it was wonderful, more so than she had ever dreamed, to be kissed like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, to have hands pressed so close to her skin, as if she would slip from his fingers and shatter if he let go. She wasn’t quite sure how they had ended up on her bed, but the softness of the duvet embraced her as he laid her back, kneeling over her. She moaned as the tip of his tongue flicked against hers, the sound echoed as he tasted the first flickers of her pleasure, soft and tremulous, like the first stretch of the wings of a newly emerged butterfly.

“I wanna touch you,” he growled, his kisses trailing down her neck. “Fuck, you taste so good already, baby.” One of his hands rested at her collarbone, waiting for the invitation to slip lower. “Please, honey, let me pull your shirt up? Wanna feel just how warm you are under there…”

“Wait,” she said breathlessly, leaning up on one elbow. He seemed confused, perhaps just a touch annoyed, but he stopped. “All those years you spent following me around...did you ever…” She gestured to herself. He smirked.

“Of course not. Not that I didn’t want to, sweetness, but when I saw you for the first time, I wanted you to be able to see me back, y’know?”

“And when I...had...alone time?” She arched a brow, and his grin widened.

“Didn’t see a thing. Scout’s honor. Though, I definitely heard quite a lot. You know, you’re not nearly as quiet as you think you are.” Her cheeks flushed red, and she turned her head to the side in an attempt to mute the color rising in her cheeks. “Nope, huh-uh. Keep those eyes on me, babe.” His fingers gripped her chin again, bringing her gaze back to his. “I want you to keep looking at me, no matter what.” She nodded, and he grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. “Good girl. Now, lemme get a look at you.” Perhaps not quite as slowly as he should have, he grasped the hem of her shirt and lifted it, groaning as her breasts came into view, soft and tipped with dusky pink. “Oh fuck,” he nearly whimpered, and she moaned as his hips pressed into hers, seeking warmth and friction. “Such a gorgeous little thing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen you come in from the cold, saw these little beauties all stiff and hard through your shirt, and wanted to tease them with my tongue until I had you moaning and squirming.”

She shivered, letting loose a soft sound of want as he settled his weight more firmly over her, purring like a cat as he leaned down to kiss her nipples, first one, then the other. A moan left her as she felt his tongue softly lick at one stiff peak, her hand tangling in his hair, which to her surprise pulled an answering moan from him. Seems she had found a weak spot.

Oh, she had never dreamed that this would feel so nice, his mouth at her breasts, sucking, kissing, licking, teasing. His hands, still cool but warmer than before, squeezed the full flesh, kneading restlessly, and she arched her back, pulling her shirt off all the way and moaning. His scruff tickled her skin, made her shiver and break out in goosebumps, and she let her fingers drift through his hair, causing him to spill little growls and purrs against her skin.

"Ohhhh, baby," he groaned, lifting his head, his hair a deep rose pink, his pupils wide, drinking in the sight of her. "Baby girl, I've dreamt of this moment for five years, I wanted to make it so good for you. But I don't think I can wait." His hand slipped down her body, palm flat to her skin to touch as much of her as he could at once, then slid between her legs, inside her panties to cup her sex, the heel of his hand pressing into her clit. She keened, her toes curling, and he groaned in response. "Please, babe," he murmured, pushing the tip of his middle finger into her. "Please?"

"Yes," she said, with no hesitation, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, god, please."

There it was again, that mega-watt grin, his mouth split wide with joy. "Thank you, doll, fuck...oh, I've been wanting this for far too long." He sat up, and in the time it took for him to be upright again, his clothing-suit, tie, and all-had vanished, leaving him naked and visibly throbbing. His hands shook as he pulled down her panties, his cock twitching as he saw her bare for the first time. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, my god…” Nearly the same temperature as her now, he touched her, thumb rubbing her clit as he pressed two fingers inside. “Has any guy ever done this to you before," he asked lowly, his free hand sliding up her thigh as he watched his fingers slide in and out of her.

"No." Her answer came immediately with a shake of her head, hips rolling against his hand. "No one."

"I knew it." He grinned, withdrawing his fingers and popping them in his mouth with a deep groan. "Knew you'd wanna save this for me." Licking his lips to savor her, he crawled over her, grasping himself to guide his cock to her entrance. The tip pressed inside, and he groaned, shivering as he saw her teeth come down on her lower lip. "Feel okay?"

"Feels great," she murmured, reaching up to hesitantly cup his cheek in her hand. "You can move, honey, you won't hurt me." Her heart gave a funny little stutter as he nuzzled into her palm, as if craving her touch. He began to rock his hips, so shallow and gentle, widening her for him, though she could see the strain it put on him to go slow, the tension in his shoulders and the clench of his jaw. Any last doubts she had about him melted away as she fully understood the care he was treating her with. To wait so long for somebody, to be with them every second and watch them laugh and cry and hurt without you, to ache with the need to touch them and be near them, and for the object of your affections to not be able to see you, let alone touch you...she could only imagine how frantic for her he must feel, but he was taking the time to consider her comfort, setting a slow pace despite the fact that it must be torture for him. “Beej?” She spoke the nickname softly, and his gaze focused on her with laser intensity, teeth exposed in a grin. “You don’t have to take it so slow, I won’t break.” Her thumbs stroked over his cheeks, slipping down to cup the sides of his neck and trace his jaw. “I want you to...to feel me. I made you wait so long, honey, but you can make up for lost time now. Don’t hold back.”

A thousand expressions crossed his face at once, his hand sliding around the back of her neck to lift her head, pressing his forehead to hers. “Baby,” he rasped, sounding on the brink of some tremulous emotion, “are you sure? I want this to be good for you-”

“This is as much for you as it is for me. If...if we’re really meant for each other, then isn’t it my job to take care of you, too?”

Beetlejuice let out a soft noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, his lips pressing desperately to hers. “How did I get so fucking lucky to land a babe like you?” And with a snap of his hips, he was fully hilted, his eyes rolling back to the whites as she jolted in his arms, her wet warmth squeezing him, gripping him so tight. A string of curses left his lips, some in a strange language she suspected wasn’t from anywhere aboveground, and she lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, anchoring herself to him. “Fuck, that’s it, babycakes,” he crooned, his hips rolling, groaning with each delicious slide within her velvet. “Ohhh shit, you take me so well...yeah, fuck, you feel so damn good, sweet stuff. You doin’ okay?”

Oh God, was she ever. It was a little uncomfortable at first; while he was average in length, he more than made up for it in width, and there had been a strange burning as she stretched to accommodate him. But that sensation of fullness, of movement, of joining...was indescribable. It felt like breathing for the first time. Like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place. Like the ceasing of a lifelong pain she had grown too used to to notice until it was no longer there. “Yeah,” she answered, tears gathering in her eyes. “I’m great. P-Please, you can go faster.”

He looked stricken at the glisten of her eyes and the tremble in her voice. “You sure? We can stop if it hurts, babes, I don’t-”

“No.” Her hands shot up to thread through his hair, yanking on it to pull him down into a kiss, the first time she had kissed him. “God, no. It doesn’t hurt, honey, it feels...oh, you feel so fucking good…” To emphasize her point, she squeezed her walls around him, bucking her hips up, and he groaned, shuddering against her. “More, please, I need more of you.”

His mouth left hers, but his lips wouldn’t or couldn’t seem to leave her skin, kissing across her cheek, the delicate shell of her ear, down her throat. “Fuck, say it again,” he murmured into the hollow of her throat as his pace increased, pushing harder, faster, the sense of something on the verge of collapse filling the room around them.

She knew what he meant, and she smiled, combing her fingers through his hair, neck arching as her hair spread across the pillow. “I need you,” she repeated, her body meeting his, rising up as he pushed down, rolling and cresting and crashing like waves against the shores of her bedsheets. “I need you, please.”

Whatever splintering dam had been holding him back finally broke, and he latched his teeth into her throat with a cry, slamming into her with unrestrained passion, marking her at her pulse, her collarbones, even just under her jaw. She was his, his, and no one else could ever have her now. She had called him, accepted him, opened herself to him in so many ways, in ways he never dreamed a beauty like her ever would. Praise dripped from his lips like rain, showering her in attention and bite marks. Her back curved, her body alight with sensation, each nerve electrified as she held him tighter and tighter, curling herself around him and letting herself get lost in him. This was everything she had wanted, everything she had been missing, in the world’s most unconventional lover. Affection, pleasure, desire, playfulness, care and attention. Her heart melted, her entire self surrendering to him; she felt it now, felt the rightness of his claim. She was his, body and soul. She always had been.

His moans changed in pitch, his thrusts frantic, mindlessly chasing his pleasure as he took her hand, pressing it into the bed beside her head as his fingers wove between hers. “Babe, fuck, I’m gonna come...can I come inside you, baby? Huh? Can I fill you up, sweetness, fill you up and make you come with me? Please, baby girl, I’m so close…” He growled, nipping at her earlobe. “Let me make you mine.”

She nodded, almost too breathless to reply. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please, I’m already yours.”

He groaned, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling it back before releasing it. “Say it again. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m y-oohh fuck!” She cried out, cursing as his free hand began rubbing her clit, hard and fast, tripling her pleasure all at once. “I’m yours!”

“Again, babes…”

“Yours, Beej, I’m yours!”

“Louder, baby, scream for me!”

“Yours!”

With a shout, he broke, his entire body shivering as he came, cool and so deep within her she could practically taste it. The fingers at her clit didn’t let up, and moments later she was following him, her pleasure crackling through her, spreading like lightning across a stormy sky through her body. Her vision faded, dimmed, but the light of his smile and the sound of his voice remained clear as day, grounding her as the muscles in her body unfurled one by one, her body collapsing against the bed as the pleasure faded slowly. There was the sensation of something dripping down her thighs, something wet and just slightly cooler than her own skin, and a delicious little shiver went through her at the sensation, heightening the little aftershock tremors.

“Fuck,” he breathed, lowering himself to rest his head on the pillow of her breasts, “that was worth the wait.” His hands cupped them, pressed them together as he buried his face between them. For a few moments, everything was silent and still, his lips skimming her skin in little butterfly kisses as she stroked her fingers through his hair, catching her breath. Then, she heard something, heard his voice, heard a muffled voice murmur something that sounded suspiciously like, “I love you.”

“What was that?”

Lifting his face ever so slightly, but not looking up at her, he said loudly, “I said you have nice tits!” The words tumbled out of him a little too quickly, and the sudden flush of pink in his hair was a sign that he hadn’t meant for her to hear him, or perhaps he hadn’t meant to speak out loud at all. Either way, she didn’t press the matter, smiling secretly to herself. His kisses, however, became firmer, his tongue even darting out to flick against her skin, and she moaned, wriggling against him as his lips began to migrate south.

“Where’re you headed, honey?”

“God, I like hearing you call me that.” He grinned up at her, licking over her navel. “What, you didn’t think I was done with you, didja? No way, dollface, I’ve got five years of lovin’ to make up for.”

She could have made the argument that they had tons of time to make up for those five years, but as his fingers spread her open to allow his tongue to lap at her clit, the sentence was erased from her mind, her hips jolting up into his mouth. It had been worth it, she decided as his clever, hungry mouth sent her spiraling into one frenzied orgasm after another. All the heartache and tears and lonely nights had been worth it, since it had all lead up to him. For the first time, she felt wanted. Felt loved. Felt truly, finally seen.

206 notes · View notes

cuttoothed · 5 years

Note

first encounter jonmartin?

In which Web!Martin attracts some unwanted attention from the Magnus Institute.

Martin’s willing to admit it was a bad decision. Stupid, really, to do what he did so close to home, but how often do you find something like that on your own doorstep? One of those Divine Host cultists living right in his building, it was practically gift wrapped. It was far too easy to strike up a conversation, play the lonely misfit, desperate for a connection. (Not actually much of a stretch there, he thinks.) The perfect victim to lure her in, and she had gone so eagerly, had never seen the strands until they closed around her.

In the end she had walked into the Web with her eyes open and horrified, unable to do anything else and utterly aware of what was about to happen, gushing helpless fear.

It’s probably fine, though,Martin reassures himself. Nobody saw them talking, and he didn’t leave any evidence. Well, no evidence that would point towards a person being involved. Anyway, the Met tend to gloss over the odder cases.

He is almost entirely convinced that he’s got away with it until someone buzzes his flat on a Wednesday evening and says he’s investigating the death of a resident. Martin considers for a moment, and then buzzes the front door open. It might be nothing, and if it isn’t, well...

The man that comes to his door isn’t wearing a uniform, and he doesn’t look much like a detective. He is thin and harried looking, and younger than the gray already peppering his hair would suggest, maybe only Martin’s age.

“Hi,” says Martin.

“Yes, hello,” the man says. “You’re...M. Blackwood?”

The man has a deep voice, with an accent that curls sharp and precise around every syllable. It’s a rather nice voice.

“Martin,” says Martin. “You said something about investigating a death?”

“That’s right - one of the residents of the building, Lisa Suarez. She lived in, uh...” He shuffles a file of paper in his hands. “In number 102. I’m following up on the case.”

“Oh, right,” Martin says. “Would you like to come in?”

“That would be - very helpful.” He sounds mildly surprised to be invited in, as if it doesn’t happen often. Martin steps aside and the man walks into his flat, juggling his files and notebook as he tries to remove his heavy overcoat.

“Tea?” Martin asks over his shoulder, already heading for the kitchen.

“Sorry?” the man says, still struggling with his coat.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Oh, if it’s not too much trouble. Thanks.” He sounds even more surprised to be offered tea, and Martin smiles.

“It’s cold out today. A cup of tea usually helps. Make yourself at home.”

Martin busies himself in the small attached kitchen while the man sits down on the sofa, perching stiffly right at the edge of the seat and balancing his files and coat on the arm. A single brown spider skitters across the countertop as Martin pours boiling water into two mugs.

Not just now, Martin thinks, and says: “Milk? Sugar?”

“Just milk,” the man replies. Martin brings the mugs and hands one over with an encouraging smile. He sits down in the armchair with his own tea.

“Sorry,” he says, “What did you say your name was?”

“Jonathan Sims,” the man introduces himself. “I’m with the Magnus Institute - maybe you’ve heard of us? I’m doing some follow up research on the...circumstances around Ms. Suarez’ death.”

Not police, then. Martin’s heard of the Magnus Institute, here and there over the years. A supernatural research organization as far as the public is concerned, bit of a laughing stock among skeptics. But also, from what Martin has gathered, a stronghold of some power in itself. He’s never had anything to do with it before, though, so he’s not sure what to expect.

“Circumstances?” he asks. “I knew the lady downstairs died, but I’d heard it was natural causes?”

“Almost certainly,” the man - Jonathan - says, waving a dismissive hand. “But the, uh, condition in which the body was found was rather unusual, so I was asked to look into it further.”

“Right,” says Martin. “So what can I do to help?”

“Have you seen any suspicious people around lately? Anyone...unfamiliar, around the area?”

“Hmm,” Martin says, “Not that I can think of. I know everyone who lives in the building by sight. And I haven’t seen any mysterious strangers recently, just the usual, postman and the like.”

Jonathan scribbles something in his notebook and nods.

“And have you noticed any - ” he hesitates, “Any unusual wildlife around the building? Specifically...spiders?”

He sounds embarrassed to even be asking the question, a self-deprecating twist to his mouth. Martin frowns theatrically, makes a show of considering it.

“Spiders?” he says. “No, nothing out of the ordinary. Why? Was she bitten or something? I heard there were venomous spiders migrating north with global warming and everything, but on the news it said they’re not deadly - ”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Jonathan shakes his head with mild disdain, writing another note.

“We had silverfish last winter,” Martin volunteers. “All over the building, you couldn’t move for them.”

“I see,” Jonathan sighs, sounding more bored by the second. “Well, thank you for your time Mr. Blackwood - ”

“Martin,” says Martin.

“Martin,” Jonathan concedes. Martin quite likes the way his name sounds in the man’s mouth, even if he does seem a bit of a superior prat.

“You’re sure you don’t want to ask me anything else?”

“No, no, I have everything I need.” Jonathan quickly drains his cup and starts gathering his belongings. Martin mirrors him as he stands up, and escorts him to the door.

“It must be very interesting,” he suggests, “Working for the Magnus Institute. All...spooky occurrences and that kind of thing?”

“Occasionally,” Jonathan says, pouring a wealth of disappointment and scorn into that single word. “Mostly it’s, well, not that at all. Hoaxes and optical illusions, mostly, and an unfortunate amount of untreated mental illness.”

“Oh. Well, if you need anything else, you know where I am.”

“Thank you,” says Jonathan. “And, uh, thank you for the tea.”

“Anytime,” Martin tells him, and smiles as he shuts the door.

Nothing further comes of the visit, and Martin doesn’t think of it again until a few months later when he sees a job posting buried in the back of the newspaper. Short and discreet, as if trying not to draw too much attention to itself:

Researcher required. Must be willing to work in the field. Paranormal experience preferred. Proficiency with Microsoft Office beneficial. Apply c/o Mr. Elias Bouchard, Magnus Institute, SW3 4LG, London.

Well, Martin thinks, why not? It would have to be more interesting that Martin’s current job, the latest in a long string of boring office roles, distinguishable only by which slogan he repeats when he answers the phone. And having access to the Magnus Institute’s resources and knowledge could only be useful in finding suitable prey- it’s not as if eldritch cultists fall into Martin’s lap as a matter of course. Martin’s not sure if this advert has been drawn to his attention deliberately, or if it’s a coincidence, but either way, he likes the idea.

At his interview, Elias Bouchard quirks an aristocratic eyebrow at Martin’s CV and makes an enigmatic comment about singular credentials. His gaze pierces Martin right through, and Martin is very certain that this man knows a great deal more about him than should be possible. Elias offers him the job there and then, and shakes his hand with a veiled warning about ensuring extracurricular activities don’t impinge on the Institute’s mission.

On Martin’s first day, a familiar disheveled figure almost runs right into him, arms full of files.

“Careful,” Jonathan scolds, as if it had somehow been Martin’s fault he wasn’t watching where he was going. “Wait, don’t I know you?”

“Martin,” Martin reminds him. “We met a few months ago. My neighbor died and you were looking for spiders?”

“Right,” Jonathan nods, looking vaguely discomfited by the reminder. “And, uh, you’re working here now?” He glances at the Institute ID hanging around Martin’s neck.

“Just started,” Martin says. “You made it sound so interesting, I had to apply.”

“Right…” says Jonathan again, skeptical. “Well, uh, welcome to the Institute, I suppose?”

“Thanks,” says Martin. The man really is a terrible arse.

Unfortunately, he’s also very much Martin’s type.

#the magnus archives #tma #my fic #ficbits #web!martin #jonmartin #(sort of)#writing prompts

272 notes · View notes

ill-skillsgard · 5 years

Text

Cat Burglars - Henry Deaver X Mistress

Warning: 18+ mentions of sex/cheating/mature themes. Please read at your own discretion.

Note: A little development, angst and a touch of cuteness!

Read more Henry x Mistress here > Masterpost

A hand on your shoulder startled you until you realized it was Henry. He wasn’t supposed to touch you or even smile too long, but sometimes, the man was blissfully negligent. You drew back in your chair and smiled at him.

“Yes, Mr. Deaver?”

A knowing grin widened across his lips, drawing his natural pout into a pleasing line, complete with chin dimple. “I’m about to start my meetings once my client arrives in, oh, ten minutes.” He looked at his watch. “Can you make sure that nobody disturbs us? It’s very important.”

“I know,” you replied. “You have three in a row with ten minutes in between. Assuming Bastion doesn’t talk your face off, you might make it out for lunch. And if not, I can grab you something.”

“I would love that,” Henry said with a sigh he didn’t intend to sound dreamy. “Thank you so much. If it’s a quarter past noon, just assume he’s talked me into a coma, and you can jet out for lunch. Whatever you want. I’m not picky.”

“Sounds good.” You returned his warm smile and turned to the papers on the desk.

The office was quiet that day, and you got a lot of work done while Henry was busy. The second client left the office looking rather pleased with himself, and Henry emerged for a bathroom break.

“Two down, one to go.” He winked at you.

“Bastion should be here any minute,” you tapped your wrist.

“Sounds good. If he arrives before I’m back, just send him in.”

Henry left and came back in time to intercept his last client of the day. The two men entered his office and shut the door. Your stomach growled ten minutes before lunch, but you put it off and crossed your fingers that Henry wouldn’t get bogged down in Bastion’s golf-talk. Henry hated golf, but his client was a top-tier, so he had to suffer through dry conversations about Florida, witless caddies and club brands.

At 12:15, the door showed no signs of opening, so you filed away your work and began to scribble out a note to leave on your desk in case Henry finished while you were out. A clicking noise approached as you signed your name on the bottom of the note and tucked the end of the pen between your lips. It was a bad habit, but one you hadn’t been successful in shaking since high school. When you looked up, a woman was standing in front of your desk.

“Hello, may I assist you with somethi—”

“Save the pleasantry. I need to speak to my husband,” her voice slithered out like a viper’s tongue.

It was Mary standing before you. You flinched from the realization, remembering her face briefly from the grocery store. Her eyes flashed and all the blood in your body drained into your legs, causing them to buzz and wobble. She gestured toward the door expectantly. “Well?”

“Uh, um... H-Henry... Mr. Deaver is in an important meeting right now and mustn’t be disturbed,” you stammered.

“Where’s the other girl? Who are you?”

“Oh, I... I’m filling in for her while she’s on maternity leave.”

You wondered if she recognized your face as she studied you over the desk from head to waist. When she noticed the make of your clothing, she quirked a thin eyebrow.

“Very nice outfit for a temp,” she said.

You didn’t know what to say and blanched a touch more.

“When will he be finished? This is just as important as whatever he has going on right now,” she waggled a manila envelope in her hand. You noticed her diamond wedding ring glinting in the incandescent light.

“I’m not sure when he will be done. I was told not to let anybody in.”

“Well, I’m not just anybody. I’m his wife.”

Not for much longer...

“Okay, ma’am, I still can’t let anyone in.”

Mary breezed by your desk with a scoff and brought three hard thumps down on the office door. You looked on in horror while she stared at the door as though waiting for it to disintegrate. When there was no answer, she knocked again louder.

“Henry!” She called out.

Some eyes peeked out over desks at the disturbance, some lingering and others turning away immediately. Mary sideswiped you with a vicious glare and looked at your fidgetting hands.

“Nice pen, by the way,” she smiled softly.

The silver pen twirling in your fingers stopped moving. You placed it on the desk and felt your head get lighter. The office door opened and all two hundred and fifty pounds of Bastion the insurance broker appeared with Henry looking rather spooked behind him.

“Mary! Good to see you!” The jolly man opened his arms.

“Pleased to see you, Bastion. Sorry, I can’t chat. I have an important meeting with my husband.”

“By all means!” The man decreed. “We should get together some time. You, Henry, me and June! It will be like old times!”

“Sure thing, Bastion. Good day.”

The office door shut behind the insurance broker, cutting off your view of Henry’s pale face. A nervous heat crawled up your back, beading your skin with sweat. Objects were leaving trails behind as your eyes wiped over them. Even Bastion noticed you looked wan as fresh paper. He made an act of looking at his watch.

“Lunchtime, little lady. You should get yourself something to eat. You look like you might need it.”

“Thanks, I will. Sorry for the interruption,” your voice was brittle but audible.

Bastion leaned up against your desk, oblivious to the jolts of panic beating in your stomach. “It’s not to worry, little lady. Henry, Mary and I go way back. I got them their first policy after they got hitched. They were just two young kids. None of this fancy-shmancy Prada and beamers. Hell, even I was a rookie back then—”

Bastion’s story was cut short from the sound of glass shattering. Voices raised beyond Henry’s office door and your eyes widened. The broker chucked a curious look at the door. All the eyes that peeked out before were now anchored to the entrance to Henry’s office. Pale and cold as china, you pocketed Henry’s silver pen and looked around your desk for anything that might give away more than what you wanted.

There was nothing on your desk that might show further connections with Henry except a bright yellow sticky note that he had drawn a childish heart on in black ink. You peeled it off, folded it into fourths and pocketed it as well. You heard more shouting from the office.

“I think you better call security. Sounds like somebody in there is about to get their ass kicked,” Bastion thumbed at the door before making a quick exit.

One of the floor supervisors came over, imploring you for answers with a serious look without having to utter a word. Her eyes bugged out behind thick glasses. You imagined Mary getting in Henry’s face, the broken glass — whatever it was — and the venomous insults you had heard the day she showed up at the condo. Your muscles screamed out to run in and put a stop to her tirade but your bones remained rooted. The worst thing imaginable would be to attempt an intervention.

“You’re fucking someone! You have been this whole time!”

“This isn’t the place to be having this discussion, Mary!”

“Ingrid saw you with a woman!”

The exchange warbled in your ears as blood pulsed through your head, dizzying you and shortening your breath. The supervisor went to the door, but it swung open before she touched the handle. Mary appeared, twice as red as when she entered.

“Move!” She spat, and the supervisor stepped aside.

Mary walked right to your desk and didn’t break eye contact with you for a second. “Call my husband’s lawyer and set up a meeting. We’re going over this bullshit settlement in the presence of the law.”

Henry finally appeared, shaken and ready to burst. “Don’t talk to her. Your problem is with me.”

Mary gave a dry chuckle. “She another one of your whores?”

“Excuse me—”

A security guard rounded the corner and Henry sighed. When Mary saw him, her chuckle turned into a great peal of laughter. “Oh, you’ve called security on me, of course. Well, let it be known that your precious Mr. H. Deaver is a cheat and a liar who fucks whores!”

“Mary, Jesus Christ, just go before you get yourself in trouble,” Henry insisted.

“I’m surprised you can get your dick up for the prostitutes,” she jabbed. “Oh, I will ruin you. You’ll have nothing but an outfit left after this. You want your divorce? You want freedom? I hope you enjoy it with an empty bank account!”

“Ma’am, you need to come with me,” the security guard motioned for her to come away.

Mary stormed past the guard and left the entire floor gawking like fish in a tank. All eyes were on Henry, including yours. He stood straight at the door to his office, shaking his head. Once you were certain his wife was far enough down the elevator shaft, you got up and went into the office.

The wreckage was merely a drinking glass and the manila envelope in shreds on the desk. Henry came in quietly, shut the door and risked a look at you. “That went terribly.”

“Well, now the entire world knows. Or, at least, the entire floor.”

“I’m sure the news will travel quick.” Henry pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“What happened?”

“She received my settlement proposal.”

“And? Suffice to say she didn’t agree with it?”

“She said her friend saw me... Us. I was a few days away from an even fifty-fifty split. Somebody saw us out. Now she wants everything... And...” His words trailed off.

“And?”

“She wants to keep my cat.”

“Your... Cat?”

“I have a cat at the house. He would have come with me to the condo, but the pet policy... Oh, god. She will never let me see him again.”

You tried not to point out the absurdity of the situation, but Henry was visibly upset.

“She just announced to the world that you fuck prostitutes, and you’re upset about a cat?”

“He’s not just a cat. He’s my cat! I adopted him. He’s mine and she won’t give him to me.”

“Henry... A cat.”

“You don’t understand, okay? This cat... He was there when she wasn’t. She doesn’t even care about him! She buys him the cheapest food possible. And he hates her!”

“She threatened to drain you, Henry! In front of your entire office.”

“No. No... This is good,” Henry nodded. “This is great. She came in here like a hurricane. All I have to do is call up her supervisor and tell them what happened. She’ll lose her job over this. She won’t be able to afford her lawyer.”

“This is insanity,” you mumbled.

“Help me,” Henry took a step closer to you. “Babe... You have to help me. We need to get Gromit back.”

“Gromit?” You tried not to giggle.

“If she hasn’t changed the locks on the house yet, I can still go in there. We can go get him.”

“We?”

Henry grabbed your hand and brought your fingers to his lips for a quick kiss out of habit. “Please, baby. I need you.”

A knock on the door forced Henry to step back quickly. The feeling stayed on your fingers as he called for whoever it was to come in. It was another security guard with a clutch of inquisitive employees peering in behind him. “Everything okay in here, Mr. Deaver?”

“I’m fine, my good man,” Henry’s chest puffed out. “Thank you.”

The guard left with a nod and Henry deflated when the door closed again.

“So, are you up for a cat-heist?”

“You want me to become a real-life cat-burglar with you?” The question rang with a hint of amused unrest.

“Yes. I need you to help me steal my cat. Please.”

All of the trepidation shaking your nerves faded and you nodded with a smile. “All right, fine. Let’s steal your cat back.”

~*~

You never knew what Henry’s house looked like, but you had your suspicions. It was a large two-story home on the outskirts of a suburb, one of a handful that wasn’t a copy of all the other tidy homes in the area. Henry parked down the street and you waited in his car until his wife pulled away.

“She’s going to her book club. She should be out for at least an hour,” Henry explained.

After work, Henry took you home so you could change out of your office clothes into something subtle and civilian. Henry shed his jacket, tie and unfastened the first two buttons of his shirt. There was a rosy splotch on his collarbone peeking out from his undershirt — a little mark you left on him the night before.

Henry went in first, disarmed the alarm and then motioned for you to come in. There was no time to take in the details of the house, but it was just as magazine-worthy as you expected it to be. The floors were shiny, the banister polished and there wasn’t a dusty object on the shelving units.

“Won’t she notice the cat’s gone missing?”

“Oh, I don’t think so. At least not for a while. I paid the cleaning lady to feed him and pet him every day. She doesn’t care enough to notice.”

“Okay, well, if you’re not worried then I suppose I shouldn’t be.”

“Of course not. It’s my house, too. My name’s on the mortgage,” Henry pointed out.

Without further questioning, you followed Henry upstairs while he whispered for the cat. At the top floor landing, Henry let out a soft gasp. Alarmed and still on edge from the incident at the office, your eyes shot to where Henry was looking. A grey tabby cat brushed up against a doorjamb, purring and mewling for attention.

“Gromit! My boy!”

You watched him pick the cat up and cradle it in his arms like a child. The cat didn’t seem to mind the treatment and nudged his owner’s chin affectionately.

“Okay, that’s some next-level cuteness,” you scoffed.

Henry beamed at you. “Told ya. He’s the cutest boy in the galaxy. Yes, he is!”

Not wanting to interrupt their reunion, your eyes wandered over some photos on the wall. There were pictures of parents, grandparents, extended family and a few of a younger Henry looking happy with his wife. You wondered how long into their marriage they were in the photos. When Henry noticed you looking, he set the cat back down and went to you.

There was a photo of Henry and Mary sitting at a table in their wedding clothes. Mary was gazing at the document that Henry was signing with a recognizable silver pen. It was the same silver pen you saw him writing with before you ever knew his name; the pen she saw in your hand earlier that day.

“Hey. Everything good?”

You smiled at him, though your heart skipped a beat. “Yes, everything’s good. I just like to see old photos of you... Even if they’re with her. God, you’ve aged well. You’re so handsome.”

His cheeks turned pink. Henry was still green with receiving compliments about his looks. The man had convinced himself over the years he was nothing more than average, but the intensity of his bi-coloured eyes, the cut of his cheekbones and the plumpness of his lips told otherwise. You touched his chest and kissed the space between his nose and cheek before going for his mouth.

“Soon you and I can have our photos up on a wall.”

“I’d rather have you fuck me up on a wall.”

“Yeah?” Henry’s eyes darkened with mischief. “You want to fuck in my old bedroom?”

“On the bed that you used to sleep in with your wife? The bed she sleeps in every night?” You asked.

“Um, yes?”

“Fuck yes, let’s do it.”

#henry deaver x mistress #henry deaver fanfiction #bill skarsgard fanfiction

82 notes · View notes

donaldresslerfanfic · 4 years

Text

Unpredictable

Rating: M

Warnings: Strong Language, Sexual Content.

Word Count: 2867

Donald Ressler X OC Maggie Waters.

Chapter: Eighty-Two

Chapter Index

Story on Wattpad

Ressler.

After Liz was reinstated, things against Garvey moved fast. Liz saw the littlest sign of hope when she found a witness who could identify him as the killer of the detective that was helping Liz, but quickly lost it when the witness was snatched from Aram's custody.

I'd seen Aram looking over at files and security cameras and CCTV footage in his off time, non stop.

We were stalling in reports so we could get moving. I received an update later in the morning.

"Forensics says the report’s gonna be ready later today." I informed as I walked to Aram's station.

"I promised that we would protect him – that I would protect him." Aram said with a sad look on his face.

"Aram, we’re gonna find out whoever took this witness, all right?" I tried to cheer him up with a pat on the back.

"Tony Mejia was gonna testify that he saw Ian Garvey murder a cop. And thanks to me he probably never will." My eyes fell from him to the side

"Whoa, wait. Is that what I think it is?" I said referring to a little bag I saw peaking from his first desk drawer.

"Oh, uh – it was my grandmother’s. Amethyst is Samar’s birthstone." I chuckled a bit as he handed me the little bag. Birthstones were like zodiac signs to me, how that meant anything related to the day you were born was always going to be a mystery to me.

"Now, here I thought you were all doom and gloom." I opened the box and gave the ring a look, it was a nice ring, definitely fitted Samar. "When are you gonna pop the question?"

"What?" Aram asked with a chuckle and a frown "No. No, no, no, no" he said as I placed the ring back in the bag. "This is not an engagement ring. It’s just a ring."

"But you guys have been dating for over a year. You give her just a ring, she’s gonna think it’s a proposal."

"That’s insane. How can she think it’s a proposal if I do not propose?"

"I can guess what a woman’s gonna do, but why she does it, I got no clue."

"Apparently, I don’t, either."

"Well, why don’t you ask one"

I motioned with my head at Liz, who was walking towards us. Her and Samar tried to convince Aram once again that it wasn't his fault the witness was taken. Upon revising the events, it was obvious it was an ambush. Liz received a call from Reddington and left to meet with him.

We were stalled for a bit until Liz came back, and whilst Samar and I headed out for a case, I leaned that Aram did ask Liz the question about the ring.

"She told me that Samar would only think it's a proposal if she wants to marry me"

I frowned and shook my head a bit. "I guess I really don't know what women want"

He let out a little chuckle and sat down in Samar's chair in our office. "You already have one woman, I guess you only need to know what she wants"

My eyes landed on a photo I had of Mags and Alma when she was a baby. I guess I need to update it. Alma was on her way to her second year already.

"About Liz" I diverted "I don't think we're going to get too far"

"Why do you say that?" he said a little offended by my pessimism.

"Because Reddington is working for his own benefit as always, and we've learned before that even though he cares about Liz, he's always his first priority"

He frowned a bit, confused.

"Do you know about the car? How could you?"

"No, what car?"

"The car we used to transport myself and the witness, it was hijacked, and after I did some digging I got an ID of the person who placed the device. He works for Reddington"

I let out a dry laugh and shook my head.

"See? Reddington is hiding something from Liz, and he values that more than helping her get to the person who killed her husband"

I stood up from the chair with a grunt.

"Makes me sick" I said in a sigh.

I heard someone walk from the stairs, and I exited the office to meet up with Samar and Cooper, he gave us our last directions and we were off again.

That day we resolved the case of the vigilante child bride. I had the chance to go home early and leave the investigation to Samar and Liz. I still couldn't believe she was willing to help Reddington retrieve something he wanted from the girl.

"Don" Maggie called from next to me, I led my eyes to her and then down to Alma who was handing me something.

"Oh look at this" I said taking a piece of paper scribbled all over "what a masterpiece, thanks cupcake" she smiled sheepishly and was off again to continue drawing in the floor in front of us. Mags was watching a movie after we'd had dinner, I was just there to make company.

"Ever since you came back on the taskforce you've been different" she noted. I stopped watching Alma draw and looked up at Mags, she was hugging her legs on her chest, waiting for me to answer.

"I've always hated secrecy and lies and... That's all Liz is getting and I don't think it's fair. I also had a car bomb explode next to me and some idiot stopped me from getting the unsub but that's beside the point"

"I see" she said with a little nod "but is it just the Liz thing that has you worried?"

"Yes" I answered with certainty, because it was. "Everything else is fine. Because we're fine right?" I asked her, she gave me a little smile and ran a hand on her hair.

"I mean we haven't had sex in a week"

"Oh I see, that's all you want me for" I teased as I leaned over her, she gave me an eyeroll as she looked sideways with a smile.

"No" she said with an obvious tone. I grabbed her by the legs and pulled her to me, leaning over her and latching her legs on my sides "the kid is watching"

"She's not" I downed my lips to hers and kissed her. I realized only then that we had been doing our own things and hadn't been together all that much, because I felt like I hadn't enjoyed a kiss with her in a while. She rounded my neck with her arms and I hummed against her lips. "I guess it has been a while uh?" I said quietly over them. She smiled a little and leaned in to kiss me again. I rubbed her waist and pulled her up, sitting back on the couch with her on arms.

"That's not all I want you for" she excused, hugging me by the neck "I just miss you"

"I know" I hugged her tightly by the waist, pulling her closer to my chest "we should go out tomorrow"

"I don't know, you're kind of unpredictable now" the corner of my lip pulled down to give her a sad smile.

It was crazy how we talked about how unpredictable everything was and the next day I got sent to Paris. After we rode in Reddington's private jet to Paris, he left us in the hotel to wait for him. For hours.

I hated when he left us waiting.

"Okay, enough" I said standing from the rather cozy loveseat in the living room, Samar looked up at me with a little frown "where is he? We need to call him, we need to get moving"

"Okay, I'll call him" she said standing and pulling her phone from her jacket.

After finding out that Reddington was kind of planning things as they went, we met up with him later that day.

He went on with the information he had about Mosadek and his security, and by the end of it I was sure it was impossible.

"No way, this could take weeks to plan out correctly, there's no way we're getting in"

"Let alone get Mosadek out" Samar chimed in.

"Oh come on, where's your sense of adventure?" He stressed.

"So you've got a way to get this lowlife out without getting us all killed?"

"The elevator" he replied simply.

"Oh the elevator?" I asked with sarcasm.

"Oh my God, you had the same idea!"

Few were the times when I actually felt like I could jump to Reddington's throat, because I wasn't in the mood the joke, and most definitely not in the mood to die. The elevator sounded like a terrible idea already.

We went on with the plan barely got the guy, and after Reddington interrogated him and somehow involved us all in a bigger thing that the one we signed up for, I had to call Cooper to get authorization. Later that day I face timed Mags to let her know the news.

"Hey princess" I saluted, Maggie smiled.

"Hey love, how are you"

"Daddy!" I heard Alma yell in the background, Maggie chuckled and moved the camera to focus Alma in the background, she was sitting in a chair eating.

"Hey cupcake" I saluted "where are you guys?" I asked after I didn't exactly recognized the furniture of the place.

"Well" Maggie said and turned around to focus Aram on the background. "I'm with Aram, he invited us over for dinner"

"Oh, it's uh, agent Ressler"

Maggie frowned and gave him a side look.

"I know it's hard but you can at least try to call him Donald, his first name is not Agent" she joked, Aram was clearly flustered.

"Okay, hi Donald" he saluted, then frowned "that sounds awful"

Maggie laughed and shook her head.

"What are you two doing?"

"You left me" she stressed "and went out to Paris with his girlfriend"

I stood up and walked around the suite, finding Samar sitting in front of a computer in the living room.

"We're being cheated on" I announced, sitting next to her and focusing us both in the camera.

"Hi Samar" Maggie saluted.

"Oh, hi Maggie. What are you two doing?" Samar asked, clearly weirded out as well.

I don't think either of them were too comfortable knowing that we were hanging out with eachother's partners, but I'd walked on James having breakfast with Mags too many times to be weirded out at this point.

"I think Aram and I would make a better couple, you know why?" Maggie said holding Aram by the shoulders.

"Because you ramble too much?" Samar answered.

"No, because we-" she motioned between them "believe in ghosts"

It was unbelievable how Samar and I grunted in reply.

"Oh yeah, Samar doesn't believe in ghosts" Aram interjected.

"Neither does Donald, he laughs at me"

"Everything that has happened to you, is completely explainable" I said. Aram and Maggie looked at eachother in surprise, I guessed that Samar must tell him the same thing.

"Anyway" Maggie said walking away from Aram "what are you two doing?"

"I saved Dembe from a falling elevator whilst Samar talked to a Parisian old man" I answered, standing up from the chair and heading back to the couch near one of the windows "I'll have to stay in Paris for a few more days"

"Oh, okay" Maggie replied with a little look I couldn't pinpoint "say bye to your dad" she moved the phone to focus Alma. She was still a little weirded out by the FaceTime method, so she kept looking at Maggie while talking to me "say bye"

"Bye" she complied

"Say bye dad"

"Bye dad" she said, then threw me a kiss and a hand wave. I bet Maggie made her do that.

"Bye love, I'll talk to you later" Maggie yelled, then ended the call.

My time in Paris lasted two more days between shots and not so nice runs in the catacombs of Paris. We arrived back home, then Cooper gave us our leave, even though we didn't catch the blacklister, our case was finished.

I arrived home by the time of lunch, though Mags wasn't at the house.

I was rolling my suitcase down the hall towards the bedroom when I heard a scream on the other side of the hallway, I looked up when I heard hurried steps coming down the hall, I bent down to catch Alma in my arms as she came crashing to me.

"Hey cupcake" I said with a chuckle, picking her up and holding my suitcase with my other hand.

"Hi Daddy" she said showing me some kind of dough she had in her hands.

"Did you miss me?"

"Yes" she replied, I set my suitcase near the door of the closet and left Alma on top of our bed

"Really? How much?" I made conversation as I took off my jacket. She extended her arms at her side "wow, that much? That's a lot" I said with a smile. I finished unbuttoning my shirt and headed into the closet to put on a shirt, then changed my pants to some sweatpants and headed out.

Alma was focused on her dough, I picked her up again and headed to the kitchen, Carol was there setting up something for Alma to eat.

"Hey Donald" she saluted "how are you?"

"Half tired" I replied, leaving Alma on the high chair, I'd eaten something on the way, because we were still on Reddington's jet and he doesn't take a "no" for an answer, so I sat next to Alma as she ate.

The phone of the house rang, I picked it up after a few rings because no one called landlines these days.

"Yes"

"Who is this?" I recognized Mags voice.

"This would be Donald Ressler"

"Oh, then this would be your wife" she answered with a chuckle "what are you doing at the house?"

"Just arrived, what are you doing calling the landline?"

"Carol doesn't pick up her phone while working, which I think it's great, but I wanted to let her know I'll take a little longer today, but if you're home then-"

"Yeah, I've got you covered, why do you need time?"

She let out a kind of annoyed sigh "my sister is going to some doctor for some operation and I'm going to take care of her during the post op"

"Something serious?"

"No" she said with a chuckle "not at all, you'll laugh when I tell you"

"Okay love. I'll make you something nice for dinner" I offered.

"Oh, can't wait" she said with a low voice "I'll see you tonight love"

"Love you" I saluted, then hung up.

Maggie.

"A breast augmentation?" Don asked confused, placing a plate of barbecue ribs in front of me, my mouth watered instantly, and even more when he set French fries in front of me.

"Oh my God I love you" I muttered, taking one and eating it quickly "yes, she wants-" I motioned at my breast.

"I mean, don't take me wrong, but your sister doesn't need bigger breasts"

"She's on a 2 for 1 deal, I wanted to check with you"

He looked at me with a twisted eyebrow, then gave me a sly smile.

"You're not against it!" I exclaimed.

"I'm not against it, but you definitely don't need it either" I laughed and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks for the confidence boost, but I would never get anything done. And my sister is going through some weird middle age crisis thing, even though she's not even 40."

"What's in it for me then?" He joked.

"Is it good?" I said looking at Alma going to town at the ribs. I grabbed a napkin and cleaned up her face. "She's going to surgery in two weeks."

"And the kids?"

"Ethan is going to take care of them for that week"

"Alright then" I looked at him, giving him a smile "I'll take care of the kiddo" he reached to me and rubbed my cheek.

"I love it when you cook for me" I said leaning into his hand.

"I'm trying" I took his hand and kissed his palm, then continued eating because his barbecue ribs were actually heaven.

"What about your whole Liz thing?" I asked, giving that he hadn't talked about it in a while.

"She's working on it, so far not getting us involved all that much" he replied shortly.

"Does that upset you?" He gave me a look over his glass as he took a sip, then twisted his lips.

"A little. She'll come around, Reddington will leave her no choice"

I gave an understanding nod, then leaned my hand to place it on top of his arm.

Sometimes I felt guilty for wishing that Don didn't get involved in Liz's things, I felt bad for wishing he wasn't the way he was, so helpful, so righteous, so overall good. Because when things went bad, they went terrible.

#donald ressler #donald ressler x oc #the blacklist #the bl fanfic #fanfic

2 notes · View notes

anianimol · 4 years

Note

I read your self ship aesthetic post don't worry ☺️ how are you so eloquent though! I'm a bookworm and all but it's always been difficult for me to express my thoughts and put them into words. I've improved slightly over the years but I still struggle a lot and it takes me a million years to write an idea out lmao. But then again I think it also has something to do with how one's mind processes things (mbti functions). Mine unfortunately has something blocking the exit - 🔬 anon

🥺STOP you are too kind❤️thank you for reading it!! lol I didn’t think anyone would want to listen to me babble on about kuroo😂

hmm, I think what has helped my writing the most is honestly reading. picking up different kinds of sentence structures that emphasize certain phrases, using repetition and different literary devices (🤮i sound like my old ap Lang teacher) and incorporating those into your own writing is really helpful! I’m no expert so I don’t have a ton of tips but a thesaurus definitely helps when you’re trying to find more descriptive words👍🏻it’s important, at least to me, to find a good balance between using more complex and difficult words while also not sounding like you’re throwing up a dictionary.

in all honesty, I was never super into writing, but when i write about something I love, it flows much better and it’s really fun☺️I’m more of a stem girl myself, so I was never big into it; when it comes to school, id rather get my ideas down quickly, jotting down scribbled notes and phrases as opposed to sentences. my best advice, is to take inspiration from what surrounds you, whether it be music, a certain visual, or other writing-that way you can formulate your own style! everyone has different strengths and I honestly think writing takes a lot of practice- my first pieces on here weren’t all that great imo, but you start to develop your own flow and get better and better each time!

English/writing was ALWAYS my worst subject-I wasn’t bad by any means, but i was never a super strong writer. drawing from other influences, making mistakes and trying again is what has really shaped me as a writer!😊

I’m not sure if this helped whatsoever, but remember that each person has their own strengths, and it might take writing about something you’re passionate about to give you the push you need! 🥰

#🔬anon #ask animol🧠

1 note · View note

edaen · 5 years

Text

Gone Fishin’ (revised)

Pairing: Dominick “Sonny” Carisi Jr./Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical Violence, Referenced Rape/Non-con

Words: 6548

Summary: When a string of violent nightclub rapes soon leads to a murder, the squad decides it’s time to catch the criminal in the act. This started out like any other undercover mission but ended as something new. Something different. (Canon-typical warnings do apply.)

[Click to read on AO3]

The dynamic dubstep music of the nightclub roared and pulsed through your bones. Each bass drop pounded at the temples of your skull just as it shook the ground beneath you. Strobes of a vibrant neon lights flashed near-harmoniously, distorting your vision as the huddled masses of sweaty strangers danced so closely together that you couldn't help but feel as if you were being swallowed whole by the rhythm of the night. It was the type of chaos you liked; one you could get lost in. It was unwavering, unrelenting, and altogether thrilling. Had you not been in the middle of a job, you would have easily let yourself be swept away in the commotion.

Bodies bumped into you as you stood in the middle of the dance floor surveying your surroundings. The movements allowed yourself to be somewhat easily hidden amongst the crowd as you searched for your target. Someone elbowed your side, but you hardly registered it. Your eyes swept across the room, hyper-focused, darting from one face to another.

“Do you have eyes on him?” A familiar female voice spoke to you through your concealed earpiece in your right ear. Rollins, who sat anxiously in the unmarked van outside with your lieutenant and a few other armed officers, let out a tense breath when you failed to be the one to answer. You were never much of a talker and, despite having access to the club's security footage, they were still struggling to spot their target in the crowd.

You kept searching, not wanting to draw attention to yourself by appearing to talk to no one. You weren't totally unnoticeable. “Negative on my end,” you heard a second male voice say, “and for the record, I still object to this whole thing.” Carisi sat on a high stool at one of the bars to your left. You gave him a smug grin between the moving bodies. A nondescript virgin drink sat in front of him as he held his cell phone to his ear, pretending to talk to someone of importance. As if they could even hear him over the sound of the music.

Carisi had been against the plan since you proposed it back at the office that morning. His fussing fell on deaf ears, however. Lieutenant Benson opted to agree in your favor. For weeks, Viktor Martin, the son of a wealthy judge, had prowled and hunted around the club scenes of lower Manhattan. Four women were found abandoned in piles of trash in alley ways– half naked, brutally raped, beaten, and mutilated– clinging to what little life he left them with before someone happened upon them and called 911. His last victim, however, was not as fortunate. Winter had arrived only days before her assault, and the unforgiving cold and rapid blood loss resulted in a DoA. Dead on Arrival.

You were the first detective to make it to the scene that time, running several red lights on your motorcycle as you sped to the location downtown. Much like the others, her face was severely gashed and almost unrecognizable; her mangled, delicate limbs were spread haphazardly in the putrid piles of black plastic, beautiful golden blonde hair stained red with dry pools of blood, and her expensive dress torn to pieces. The light snow that layered atop her overnight melted away as the CSU team got to work, leaving her looking almost damp. Rage boiled in your blood. You stood motionless, fists clenched so tightly in the pockets of your leather jacket that your nails might have broken some skin. You could think of nothing else but stomping on the neck of the monster who did this. One of the first responding officers handed you an evidence bag containing her wallet and ID. Her name was Abigail Florés, and you would not forget it.

Carisi gently laid a gloved hand on your left shoulder, but you didn't jump. You couldn't focus on anything else. He had arrived a little after you but decided to give you some space before approaching. Even though he had only seen the profile of your face, he knew that look. “Hey,” there was a softness in his voice that seemed to lull you back to your senses, “you alright?”

You finally blinked, eyes dry from looking for too long, but still you didn't look at him. “Should I be? Viktor did this, Sonny. We could have saved her.” You bit at the bottom of your lip, handed the evidence bag to a passing CSU member, then placed your then free hand on top of his. You hadn't even noticed when he began to rub your cold, bare fingers tenderly with his thumb as you both continued to stare hopelessly at the horror that laid before you. Your shoulders softened unknowingly.

It was the work of a beast so engulfed in his hate and bitterness towards women that the energy of it lingered in the air long after he had gone. The squad had been onto Martin for a while now, but the evidence, according to Stone, was circumstantial at best. While they had plenty of DNA, it matched no one in the system and no judge would grant a warrant for a swab based on victim testimony alone; not when the recipient was related to a fellow member of the bench. There were no eyewitnesses as he made sure to lure the victims to a place where no one would see them. Each had traces of rohypnol in their system as well, so they would have struggled to fight him off or call for help. Any security footage was also virtually useless as Viktor had managed to avoid them by sitting in camera blind spots. All this in addition to the fact that the victims were too scared, hurt, and humiliated to testify left little room for the ADA to maneuver. Stone needed more. Something solid, he said. He wasn't about to arrest the son of an esteemed sitting judge on anything less. An idea occurred to you: there was nothing more solid than catching him in the act. Almost a week after the Florés murder, you would present your plan to the squad.

“Using you as bait,” Carisi contested almost immediately as he crossed his arms and leaned against his desk, “I don't like it. Viktor Martin is a dangerous person.” Deadpan as ever, sipping from the bitter coffee Carisi forced upon you, you offered him only one retort:

“As am I.”

Of that, Carisi had no doubt. He knew little of your time in the service since you weren't exactly keen on sharing the more darker details of your life before SVU with anyone that wasn't Olivia, but you clearly were one hell of a soldier. A weapon to be reckoned with. It was evident in the way that you carried yourself– focused, intense, and a demeanor so calm as to be inscrutable. Indomitable. Truthfully, It scared him sometimes. It scared all of them, actually. He often thought back to the time you immobilized four armed gang members that surrounded you with only a tin lid from a nearby trash can during a neighborhood sweep. You didn't even reach for your gun. You always kept a casual coldness about you, hardened to the world. If fact, it was only in the past couple of years since his arrival— Benson noted one day— that you had you allowed yourself to soften, showing your more vulnerable side through dry, dark humor and the occasional witty remark. Unbeknownst to you, of course. He liked that part of you and did his best to pry it out from your shell whenever he could.

Yet, despite your seemingly immense levels of willpower and stamina, he knew that even you had your limits. No matter how high you had built your walls, he saw the cracks. Better than the others did. You were partners, afterall.

He cared about you.

After the murder of Abigail Florés, you had elected to tail Viktor Martin tirelessly for the past few days to learn his movements, only returning to the SVU barracks for some brief R&R when you were positive he wasn't currently a danger to the public. He asked, nearly begged, Lieu to pull you off the stake-outs, but Benson also knew you a great deal. She knew you were going to keep an eye on him regardless of what she said, so she would rather you did so with her supervisor and approval rather than risk insubordination. You were determined, but you had begun to look unraveled and ragged, eyes bruised from lack of sleep and hair disheveled and slightly knotted. Sonny and Amanda exchanged concerned glances as you paced back and forth in front of the white board on which you had scribbled your battle plan.

"When was the last time you were home? Or got more than 3 hours of sleep?" He had asked.

You waved him off. He was being a mother hen again. You didn't need sleep, you needed this bastard locked away. "Look," you spoke directly to the lieutenant that time, "we know that Viktor scouts out a club at least a week before he attacks in order to learn about their levels of security and the location of their cameras. The past couple of nights that I've tailed him, he's only visited one club: The Blitz. And if he follows his pattern as closely as we think he does, his next victim could be tonight. Yours and Rollins were the only faces he saw during his initial interrogation… but he hasn't seen mine. I know how he thinks. If I can attract his attention and catch him in the act… Lieutenant, I can do this."

Benson didn't need to hear more. "I'll call Stone."

The wolf would pose as a lamb. At midnight, you would find yourself in the middle of the herd.

---

Your time in the CIA required you to be a Swiss Army Knife of many talents; sharp, adaptive, and multifaceted. You discovered quickly that undercover work was one of your fortes. While you were no means a natural born thespian and preferred to carry out the majority of your operations from the shadows, you learned through experience (and a lot of trial and error) how to play the part if need be. You were a scalpel, finessing your way through any situation to achieve your goal with near perfect precision, as you were trained to do. When you abandoned that life, you found these tools could serve a purpose even outside the military. You found purpose at the NYPD's Special Victims Unit.

Fin, who stood vigilant at the balcony on the second floor overlooking the hunting grounds, interrupted your thoughts. "I've got him. He's coming in through the east entrance."

Drowning out the chaos of the club scene, you breathed in and sharpened yourself.

Viktor Martin, the pompous ass, was a man of no remarkable features and average looks but was fiercely charismatic. He demonstrated as much during his first interrogation with Benson and Rollins. He didn't even ask for a lawyer. He simply talked his way out. A man like him could have easily found a nice woman, settled down, beget 2.5 children, and lived the white picket fence life that so many could only dream of. Instead, he chose to inflict pain and spread misery. He got off on it, and he got off on getting away with it. Martin's silver tongue might have impressed the women he preyed on, but you had seen plenty of monsters. You knew how to spot them.

Takes one to know one, I guess. You thought to yourself, thinking back on the past.

There was a heinous glimmer in his eye as he sauntered to a bar adjacent of the one Carisi sat at. It was the same glimmer you had seen during interrogation; flickering red and shifting with the club lights. He sat in a spot he knew the camera couldn't see him, ordered a drink, and searched the room for prey just as you and your coworkers had searched for him. Unfortunately for Viktor, he was spotted first. It was time to get to work.

"I'm going radio silent," you said into the wire hidden in your dress, looking up once at Fin and then to Carisi, "Wish me luck." You couldn't risk Martin seeing the police-issued earpiece, no matter how well concealed it appeared.

You heard a faint "Hey! Wait! No– " as you took the earpiece out and placed it in your clutch. Carisi felt his heart drop into the ground.

They could hear you, but you couldn't hear them.

Action.

You positioned yourself closer to Viktor in the crowd just enough so he could see you. The black mini dress you wore held tight to your curves and the plunging neckline revealed more skin than you would have liked. It wasn't exactly tactical either, but it was near identical to the type of dresses Abigail and the other girls had worn during his previous attacks. You hoped that the similarity was enough to attract his ire as you feigned confusion, seeming lost and frankly overwhelmed in the swirling club commotion.

It worked. Viktor noticed you almost immediately. You avoided direct eye contact as you made your way slowly to the spot next to him at the bar. Viktor sized you up, and Carisi resisted the urge to throw his phone directly at his head.

"Um… can I get a vodka soda please?" You asked the bartender sheepishly as you ducked your head to look at the phone that you had pulled from your clutch earlier.

Viktor waited until your drink arrived before finally leaning in and making his move. "Not to be rude or anything," he leered and bent his neck to see your face, "but you, uh, seem a little out of place."

Good. You forced a lighthearted laugh. "Ha, is it that obvious?" Still playing with your phone as if to be messaging someone, you turned to face the man you tracked for weeks. You loathed this man, but you had to keep it together. For his victims. For Abigail. A weak smile forced its way across your cheeks.

Pull him in, lead him on, turn him down, make him angry, then let him do the rest. Let him dig his own grave.

Viktor straightened himself, placing both elbows against the bar and turning his body away and towards the dance floor. His eyes, however, remained on you. Carisi turned and looked at the bar ahead of him to avoid drawing any attention to himself. "Any man who'd allow a diamond like you get lost amongst this pile of garbage should be arrested and sent to jail! For life!"

You couldn't hear it, but Benson and Rollins both scoffed. Carisi's eyes rolled so hard, he thought they might fall out of their sockets. The irony was not lost on you, however. You let your smile grow wider as you played along.

"Yeah, well, he might not be my boyfriend much longer after tonight!" You huffed and put your phone away. He needed to know that he had your full attention. Your drink remained untouched. He then introduced himself to you. Not as Viktor, but as Henry. After getting questioned one too many times, he had to cover his tracks better. You shook his hand, also giving a fake name: Ursula.

"Ursula, huh? That's quite a name!"

"My parents wanted me to be unique."

"That you are. Well you don't look like any evil sea witch to me. Though I wouldn't be surprised if you had a little magic of some sort in you..."

He was full of cheesy lines, but his delivery was spot on. Disgusted with yourself, you pushed his shoulder playfully. Flirtatiously. A single touch was enough to open the door.

"Tell you what, Ursula, let's play a game." He put his hand on your shoulder to turn you towards the crowd. They were like fire against your skin and every cell in your body began to scream in unison. Crime scene photos of past victims flashed in your head. You wanted nothing more than to rip his arms from their sockets for what they had done.

After turning you completely, Viktor placed his hand behind your back and used the opportunity to drop a pill into your drink. It was quick and effortless. He clearly had some practice. You might have missed it, but Fin, positioned on the balcony above you, didn't. He alerted the team. Carisi held his breath and prayed you wouldn't accidentally take a sip.

Viktor continued, silver spilling from his lips. "Growing up, I loved Where's Waldo? I never missed him on a single page! Ya know, finding people, It's like my own weird super power. Let's see if we can find your misplaced lover in the club tonight. And if not…"

"And if not?" You echoed him, raising an eyebrow with curious intent. He inadvertently admitted he was a predator.

You felt his hand against your back. It blistered like a hot branding iron on your soul. "If even our magic combined can't find this wretch, I'll see to it personally that you– "

His thumbs caressed your back. Unable to stomach another second of this, you cut him off, regretting it immediately and cursing yourself internally. You needed more time but it was too late. The words were already jumping out of your mouth as your eyes darted to where Carisi sat. "OH! There he is!" You grabbed your drink and ran off without offering Viktor a much as a single goodbye.

According to the victims, the last thing they could remember before their attacks were rejecting his advances. While walking away from him mid-sentence might piss him off, it wasn't quite enough. You cursed at yourself internally for your failure. He wasn't on the hook yet, so you would need to think fast and act quickly. You could still feel his eyes on you. You still had a chance.

Carisi spun to you as you approached and put his phone in his coat pocket. You weren't entirely used to seeing him in casual civies. The light bomber jacket was a nice touch.

"What happened?!" He said at an almost whisper. Viktor couldn't hear you guys, but he could see. He tried to look as pleasantly boyfriend-like as he could. Carisi wasn't part of the plan. "He slipped a roofie in there, by the way."

You said nothing as you put yourself so close to Sonny that you were almost between his knees. Heat rushed to his cheeks. The height of the stool he sat on made it so that you were only slightly taller than him. You placed your drugged drink next to his, stealthily took his virgin drink that looked exactly the same, and chugged it in one go. Viktor had to see you take the drink, so you pivoted a bit as your poured the last bit down your throat. If you couldn't piss him off, he might take your bait for convenience sake alone if he knew you were already drugged. Carisi relaxed a bit knowing you were in no danger for the moment.

You put the drink back while an undercover cop disguised as a bartender took both glasses. "I messed up. It's time for Plan B." You responded frankly.

"You? Messing up? Martin must really get under your skin."

"That's an understatement."

"So," he tapped the bar lightly with his fingers, "what's Plan B?"

A new fire lit up in your belly as a new idea came to mind. You looked softly at Carisi.

I hope you're good at improv.

"Viktor Martin sees himself as an Alpha Male. Your presence threatens that. So, as my newly knighted boyfriend, you have to out-alpha him."

He laughed. "Oh yea, and how am I supposed to do that?"

Viktor's gaze still on your back felt like daggers. Carisi wasn't getting it. You had to move things along.

You took the tapping hand Carisi had settled on the bar and interlocked it with yours. You flipped your hair a bit and slowly moved closer to him. Fully between his legs now, you tried to look as seductive to Viktor as possible.

"Make him jealous, detective."

There was a certain tenderness in your voice that Carisi was not, by any means, accustomed to. And with the way your eyes were looking at him was new as well. There was a rush of confusion as your proximity to him closed in before he finally understood what you were hinting at. Or, at least… what he thought you were hinting at. If he was wrong, you could yell at him later. You cocked your head to the side and bit your lip. You grew impatient. He adjusted his eyes to reflect yours, attempting to meet you on equal ground. The pair of you were supposed to be lovers, after all.

Carisi placed his free hand on the back of your neck and pulled you in, kissing you sweetly but with some force. His lips were softer than you thought. Was he wearing chapstick?

"Oh damn!" Fin laughed in Carisi's earpiece.

In the van, Olivia's eyes shot open. "Well, that wasn't what she proposed back in the den."

"It sure wasn't…" Amanda said, picking her jaw off the floor.

The kiss didn't last very long. As is broke, his hand moved from your neck to the small of your waist. The two of you just sort of stared at one another. His face was still so close to yours. While you both played it off as a loving couple would for your onlooker, a new feeling washed over you. What was it? You were astonished, confused, and delighted. You couldn't stop looking at his lips. For a moment, you had entirely forgotten about Viktor.

"Well?" You forced yourself to speak.

Carisi was apparently lost as well. "Well what?" He couldn't stop smiling.

"What is Viktor Martin doing?"

Carisi landed back on earth. He looked directly at Viktor, who hadn't taken his eyes from you for even a second. His teeth clenched together as he sneered in revulsion. He was snagged on the bait. Viktor took one last swig of his drink, slammed it down on the bar, and walked to the back hallway he had entered from to lie and wait. Carisi mentally praised himself for a job well done then found himself spellbound to your presence yet again.

"He moved to the hallway directly behind you, didn't look too happy though," Carisi was beaming, "I think your plan worked, Doll."

Doll?

"Excellent." You rejoiced.

You acted on instinct a did something you would probably regret later.

You kissed him again.

This time it was slower and softer. Your lips only barely seemed to touch. There was no reason for doing so aside from wanting to understand what feeling came over you the first time. It was purely experimental, you told yourself. The perplexity ate at you. Why were you so transfixed? Especially at a moment like this? Why was his thumb caressing yours suddenly? Why didn't he stop you or push you away? What were you really feeling? Why did you have so many questions?

You wouldn't get answers, not now. Truthfully, they mattered little in the grand scheme of things. It was just a kiss and you did not have the luxury of time to ponder it. You put the feeling in the back of your mind, content to leave it there forever, unnamed. You had a fish on the hook and it was time to reel him in.

His other hand gripped tighter at your waist as you parted. If someone was speaking to him in his ear piece, Carisi did not notice. His eyes searched yours and his face was hard to read. He seemed equal parts flabbergasted and almost angry with the way his eyebrows knitted together. Perhaps he was just contemplating too hard.

You extended him an honest smile, not wanting to go head on with Viktor Martin with your partner disoriented. He gave you one in return. The heightened emotions on both ends seemed to dissipate as you came to a mutual understanding that the moment had passed. Focus returned. Electing to stay silent, you nodded to Carisi and turned on your heel towards the hallway.

Carisi spoke into his mic, "She's entering the hallway with Martin."

"Good work," he could hear Olivia say. "Don't lose sight of them, we don't have eyes on that section. All units stand by near the east exit. Wait for my signal."

Fin left his perch on the balcony. "I'll join Carisi."

There was a lump in Carisi's throat as you walked further and further away.

---

The hallway was poorly lit, but not entirely dark. It was short and narrow with all sorts of posters and ads stuck to the walls. The red neon exit sign created an ominous red glow, but Viktor was nowhere to be seen. It was then that you noticed the door to the unisex bathroom was slightly ajar. Definitely a trap, but you were ready.

You entered the bathroom casually. Your olfactory senses became suddenly aware of how little it bathroom was serviced. The wallpaper was torn, the checked tile was suffered and dirty, and one of the sinks dipped continuously. There were three stalls total and only one was occupied. You spotted a pair of shoes but it was impossible to tell if they were his. If Viktor wasn't in here with you, then you had missed your chance entirely.

Your heels clacked against the cheap linoleum as you made your way to the dripping sink in the middle to turn the faucet all the way off. Now the only noise that filled the room was the quiet thumping of the club music in the background. You waited a moment, then looked up into the dirty mirror.

In the reflection, the door to the one closed stall creaked open slowly. Viktor Martin's silhouette sauntered menacingly out of the shadows. If he was trying to scare you, he was going to have to do better than that. But you had to keep up the facade. You faked being startled. "Oh, Henry! You scared m– "

Before you could turn around fully, he pounced on you. Viktor grabbed a fist full of your hair and slammed your face against the glass mirror. Your head began to ache as you felt the surface of the glass bend but not break. Years of combat training pounded in your muscles. You wanted to throw him off you, but not yet. His body pressed against you as you made him believe that your were struggling as much as you could muster. He was strong, but you were stronger. You had to be.

"Henry– stop! What are you–"

You face was slammed against the glass again. You put your arms out against the wall to brace for the impact, but it helped very little. The glass shattered and cut into your temple. A headache immediately followed.

"Shut up, bitch!" Viktor foamed at the mouth and grunted. You felt something sharp against your waist in the same spot Carisi had held you so lovingly earlier. "You're just like the rest of them! Beautiful women in short skirts who lead on poor men. Men like me. We're just ants to you while you play God with a magnifying glass!"

Another slam against the glass. You let out a small gasp, but nothing else. Something wet trickled down your face.

"You think you're so much better than the rest of us?! Well, I'll show you," He laughed as he spat, "I'll show you just like I showed the other women."

A confession.

The knife pressed harder into your side as he jerked your head back, forcing you to straighten out. You stared at him in fragmented, shattered pieces of the mirror in front of you. The ghoulish look he gave you was his true face, not the "Henry" character he played. While the sight of your blood didn't make you squirm like it would for most people, (it wasn't your first time seeing it), the way he breathed hard on your neck was enough to make your hairs stand on edge.

"You're making a mistake," you muttered. You held up your hands to show surrender.

"Quiet, Ursula. We're going on a little walk. Scream, and I'll gut you in front of your pretty boyfriend."

You said nothing, but complied with a frigid stare. He remained behind you, knife now pointed to your lower back, and shoved you out the bathroom door with one hand gripping your arm. You held your clutch tight to your person, feeling the outline of the police-issued glock against the thin fabric it was made from. You weren't big on guns, in fact you hated them, but you couldn't deny it brought you comfort in times like these.

Plus you were an excellent shot.

As you exited the bathroom, you couldn't help but look towards where Carisi had been sitting. He was nowhere to be seen. Before you could scan for him, Viktor tightened his grip and dragged you to the exit. Not a single person in the club had seen the two of you leave.

The brisk air of the New York winter night was cold against your skin. You were suddenly more aware of how little the dress you wore covered. The blood on your cheek began to freeze, but least the bleeding had stopped.

Viktor marched you forward a few feet. The exit door slammed behind the two of you. That's when you heard the shuffling in the snow.

"Put down the knife, Martin." Your lieutenant barked.

Viktor spun you around. Before you stood Benson, Rollins, and two other officers. Their guns were angled and ready to fire, though they lowered them slightly when you blocked their line of fire. You kept your face relaxed as not to scare your colleagues, but Rollins still flinched when she saw the blood.

"It's over, Viktor!" She yelled, slightly panicked. She appeared more frightened than you. You appreciated the concern.

He jerked your arm. "I wish I could say that it's nice to see you again, detectives. Are you in on this, Ursula?! Did you lead me on just to trick me?!" The knife was cutting through your dress now. You felt the cold steel against your skin.

Carisi and Fin snuck up behind him.

"You're surrounded, Viktor. There's nowhere to run! Drop the knife and let her go." Olivia pressed forward.

"BACK UP!" His voice cracked as he screamed. Sweat dripped from his brow. "I'll KILL her! I'll swear do i–"

You had heard enough. It was growing late and your headache was growing worse and worse with each word he spat. He was pathetic. You cut him off again as you did earlier, this time with your heel. Using all the might in you could muster, your foot came crashing down and bore its way into his cheap penny loafers. You could feel the bones in his foot fracture, bend, and let out a faint crunching noise. Viktor yelped, completely stunned. You only had a fraction of a second to act. You grabbed his wrist that held the knife to your side and squeeze so tight that you thought it might break. It wasn't until you broke free of his grasp, elbowed him in the ribs, and flipped him over your shoulder that he finally get go of his weapon. All the air left his lungs as his back smashed against the concrete with a satisfying wham ! You pressed the flat part of your high heels tight against his throat and ripped you gun from your clutch, discarding it to the ground. By the time Viktor regained his sense and opened his eyes, you had already turned off the safety and aimed the barrel at his head.

Your peers could do nothing but watch. They all seemed to let out a sigh in unison as they lowered their guns, confident that you had the situation handled.

"Viktor Martin," you said in a low, assertive tone, "you're under arrest for the rape of four women, assaulting a police officer, and the murder of Abigail Florés. You have the right to remain silent…"

---

The flashing police lights did little to help your headache, but at least the EMTs had given you a blanket while tending to the wound on your forehead. The cuts were not deep enough to warrant stitches, but that didn't stop Carisi from hovering. You tugged the blanket closer to your person.

"Here, lemme get you another blanket." He fussed, looking for one of the EMTs. They were busy looking over Viktor.

You grabbed his coat before he could walk off. "I'm fine, Sonny. Really."

He liked the way you said his name. Though you had said it a thousand times before, tonight it sounded different. He wasn't sure why. He grabbed your hand without thinking. "Will you at least take tomorrow off?"

"You heard the EMT, I'm fine. No concussion, just some cuts and bruises." You didn't object to the hand holding.

"Your mental health is important too."

"I'm the spitting image of perfect mental health."

He laughed. "You were just held at knife point! He smashed your head against a mirror!"

"Eh," you shrugged, "I let him." You gave him a weak smile. He wasn't falling for it, not that you were lying. You truly were fine. Mostly you were tired. And cold. You hadn't noticed the shivering until now.

A quiet moment fell between you two. You watched as his thumbs grazed over your fingers again. Did he always do that?

"You know," Sonny laughed, finally breaking the silence, "it was really smart of you to tell me to kiss you. That really pushed Martin over the edge."

You have him a pointed stare. "I didn't tell you to kiss me."

"Uh, yes you did."

"When?"

"You said to make him jealous!"

"But I never said to kiss me! That was entirely of your own volition." You tucked your arm back into the blanket for warmth, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed as he gaped at you.

"Well… it would make me jealous," He grinned, "I acted on instinct, ya know. For the job." He rubbed the back of his neck.

For some reason, you didn't entirely believe him.

"Wait a second!" he got a sudden burst of energy and put his hands on his hips like he did during an interrogation. "That second kiss, that was entirely you! Viktor had already walked into the hallway at that point." He started wagging his finger at you now. He was always so expressive. "You. Kissed. Me."

He looked as if he had just solved a case. You loved that look. Not missing a beat, you stood up from where you sat on the bumper of the ambulance, only inches from him. You conceded. There was no disputing the facts.

"I guess I did."

Carisi felt frozen solid. He hadn't expected you to just confess so directly. He moved his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He just stared at your lips.

You finally understood what you were feeling earlier. It was all new to you, this feeling of adoration. It was immense and clouded your judgement. Love scared the living hell out of you, as it wasn't something you ever considered achievable for someone such as yourself. It wasn't something you deserved. Besides, you haven't had a "serious" relationship in years. You were trained in a lot of things, but you weren't trained for this . Maybe it was just a stupid crush; maybe you should say something?

"Listen, Sonny, I– "

"Hey lovebirds," Fin interrupted. Sonny jumped back about a foot. You smiled towards Fin. "The Lieutenant is waiting to talk to you when you're done with… whatever this is."

"I-it's nothing. There's nothing!" Carisi stammered, looking back at you and then to Fin as if he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Nothing is happening." He walked off.

Fin looked at you, but you just shrugged. "You heard the man"

"Uh-huh."

You caught up to Sonny to join him next to Rollins. Fin decided he had enough and went home. Olivia slammed the door of the police car where Viktor Martin sat. She pounded the hood and they drove off with another vehicle behind them as an escort.

"Well," Benson started, resting her hands in her jacket pockets, "he has multiple fractures in his foot, a sprained wrist, a dislocated shoulder, and a bruised ego, but he's fine."

"Then he got off easy," Rollins scoffed. "She could have easily killed him in self defense."

You rolled your eyes. "I have some self control, thank you very much."

"At least we're one step closer to getting justice for his victims." Carisi crossed his arms.

"Yea, well, it's not going to be easy. Now we have to deal with an angry judge. Judge Martin isn't going to be happy when he hears about his son's injuries." Benson looked at you with maternal eyes and spoke your name in a way that was almost berating. "What on earth were you thinking?"

You were too tired to argue, all the sleepless nights suddenly caught up to you at once. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I guess I went overboard."

"I meant kissing Carisi." She chuckled to herself. She was proud of you, regardless.

You returned a smile. "I promise it won't happen again."

Carisi put his hand on his heart and staggered, pretending to he wounded. "Hey, I take offense to that! You could do a lot worse than me, alright?"

You me smile didn't fade, but you said nothing.

"Carisi, take her home please." Benson and Rollins started walking past you to their car.

That made you frown. "Wait, I don't get to help process him? I read him his rights, technically this is my collar."

The lieutenant turned, "And technically you're one of his victims." She pointed towards her forehead, reminding you of your injuries. "I think you've done enough for tonight, don't you think? You want to deal with Judge Martin and Stone as well?"

"Can I at least get my things from the office and watch him get sent to booking?" You were defeated.

Benson looked at Carisi. "Make sure she gets her things and goes straight home." There was no more room to negotiate. Both her and Rollins waved as they continued walking away.

You huffed.

"So, 'it won't happen again', huh?"

You gave Sonny another pointed stare. "Maybe if you buy me waffles from the diner on the way to my apartment." You started walking with him towards his car.

He snorted "You want breakfast? Now? It's almost 2 AM."

You wrapped one of your arms around him for warmth. He pulled you in and did the same. Maybe you didn't have to confront your feelings tonight; maybe you could just bask in the moment.

"Shut up and buy me some damn waffles."

#sonny carisi #dominick carisi #dominick sonny carisi jr #law and order #law and order svu #law and order: special victims unit #sonny carisi x reader #carisi x reader #law and order imagine #sonny carisi imagine #undercover couples #myfics

101 notes · View notes

sanguinecalamity-a · 4 years

Text

fck discord and its 2000 characters limit, if I have to send a chap in like 23 pieces again I’m gonna sob- Just posting it here real quick so I can just throw the link at a few people who want to read it.

I should just make a temp sideblog or something so no one has to be subjected to my unedited, unproofread, generic love triange-- :’D

At least I’m nice enough to put it under a read more, go away

CHAPTER 01

"I love you. Be mine." Sound seems to fade as the taller man’s mauve gaze meets Kiara’s own. Seconds pass, her heart skips a beat. The man's larger hand is holding her own to his chest as if she's a lost princess who has just been found. "What...?" "I have loved you since the moment I first laid my eyes on you." the beautiful man's low baritone promises a myriad of things Kiara can't quite understand. He towers over her by a solid eight inches, his short black hair a hot mess of thick waves which fall in a layered style, framing his well defined face perfectly. Mouth dry, Kiara can only stare up at the man for a few seconds, before finally uttering out a, "Who... are you...?" The naturally narrowed gaze seems to pierce through her own before his brows droop, expression forlorn. The expression lingers a mere seconds before a saddened smile curves his lips. "Of course you don't recognize me." he murmurs, voice dropping. "Uhm, what?" Kiara awkwardly tries to tug her hand back, only for the man's grip to tighten. Pulling her closer, the man's smile turns utterly charming, making the young woman wonder if the previous expression was a mere figment of her imagination. "My name is Dante... it's a pleasure to meet you, Kiara Cross." raising her hand to his pale face, his thin lips graze against her knuckles, before he finally releases the appendage. Turning on his heel, he abruptly walks off, a final smile cast upon the confused woman from over his shoulder. He's gone before she can even ask him how he knows her name.

"Kiara, are you okay?" Kiara blinks slowly to snap herself out of her stupor. The sounds of the college classroom register in the back of her mind and she shakes her head, before turning her attention back on the male seated next to her. Luca White's baby blue eyes have widened slightly in concern, his shoulder length dark blonde hair pulled back in a partial ponytail as has become usual for him. "Yeah, I'm fine," Kiara gives an apologetic smile, trying to push the events from last weekend out of her mind. "Just thinking, that's all." "You've been out of it all week," Luca's eyebrows raise a bit "Did something happen?" "Nothing's out of the ordinary, don't worry." Kiara is quick to assure. If she's being honest, she should tell her childhood friend about the odd encounter she'd had at the mall the other week, especially since the stranger seemed to know her name. But for some reason she can't bring herself to do it. The more she thinks about him, the more Kiara can't help but think that the man, Dante, was oddly familiar in a way... but she's certain she'd never met him before. She'd never forget a man like that, especially not with those eyes. Not only was the purplish shade strange, but there was something about them, something that pulled her in... she hasn't been able to get the encounter out of her mind all week. Averting his gaze, Luca licks his lips briefly, before turning his attention back to the other. "Was it one of your dreams again?" "No, no," Kiara shakes her head quickly "It's nothing like that, don't worry." she'd rather not think back to the vivid dreams she's grown up with. Fortunately they became rare as she grew up. "Really?" Luca gives a small, relieved smile, ruffling his messy fringe with his hand a bit. "That's great, really..." "Yeah, so don't worry about that, okay? I'm just thinking about later. You know, Matt..." she trails off, and just like that the smile leaves Luca's lips. "What did he do this time?" With a sigh, Kiara props her chin up on her hand. "He got into another fight. Seriously, just because mom and dad aren't around, he thinks he can do whatever he wants..." she sighs. "When are they going to come back?" "No idea. End of the month, maybe? Next month? Who is to say?" Luca nods once before resting his cheek against his hand to level his gaze with Kiara's. "Want me to go talk to him? I can smack some sense into him, if need be." "Don't worry about it," dropping her voice to a whisper as the Professor starts his lecture, Kiara gives Luca a weary smile. "I can handle it." They both know it's a lie. "Good afternoon, everyone. Please open your books to page-" The class passes in much of a blur for Kiara; nothing the professor says really seems to stick, her notes are filled with random doodles she wouldn't be able to explain as anything other than 'art is in the eye of the beholder'. She can still hear Dante's low, sultry voice now, the memory bringing a pleasant shiver down her spine. In the end it's the final bell which jars her out of her daze, forcing her to stop her artistic rendition of what might be a burning hill if the scribbles count for something, and to make a quick note on what the assignment for this week is. Avoiding the piercing gaze she can just _feel_ coming from next to her, Kiara messily shoves her books and pencil case into her bag before getting up. "Well that was interesting." she tells the blonde. "Learned a lot. You?" "Yeah... sure." Luca responds slowly before also rising from his seat. He opens his mouth to ask something, then seems to think otherwise and changes his words: "Let's meet up tonight to get a head start on the assignment, okay?" "Uh-huh, sounds great." Halfway to the parking lot, Kiara stops in her tracks and looks around. That's odd... is she getting stared at? "Kiara?" Luca stops as well and looks back at me with a furrowed brow. The feeling of being watched disappears as soon as it had appeared and Kiara shakes her head. "No, just thought I forgot something, sorry about that." "Uh... huh. You know you look a little cross-eyed when you lie, right?" Eyes widening, Kiara splutters indignantly before swatting Luca's arm. "I do not!" Luca stops at his car with a laugh. "I'll drop by after dinner. Don't forget." "I won't, I won't." Kiara huffs softly while unlocking the car next to Luca's, pretending like she doesn't feel his concerned gaze boring holes into her head. "I see you tonight, okay?" "Yeah, okay." Luca agrees. Kiara gives him a faint smile, then gets into her car and closes the door. "Now for the next item on the list..." she stares ahead for a few seconds, unseeing, before buckling up with a sigh. Turning on the engine, she pulls out of the parking lot, before heading off to Matt's school.

Preston Academy is a private school for the intellectual and prestigious children. It's the educational grounds to those whose parents can afford them, or a lucky few who are able to grab hold of one of the three scholarships extended each year and are able to maintain those. Kiara pulls up in front of the gates surrounding the large, white building and soon walks past the familiar fountain of her ex-school. An ID check is required to enter the building, then it's through the large, arched doors and up to the first floor. The halls have quieted down. The school has been out for half an hour by now. She finds Matthew sitting outside the principal's office. He's holding an ice pack to his face. "Matt," Kiara approaches and tries to ignore how Matthew's scowl deepens. "I got a call again." she continues, trying to sound firm. "Good on you." Matthew mutters, glare fixed on the desk. "Your cheek too, let me take a look at it-" "Don't need you to." Taking a deep breath, Kiara clears her throat, leaning down a bit to be eye level. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" she isn't surprised when she doesn't get a reply, but that doesn't stop the disappointment sigh. "Matt, I can't help you if you don't-" "You can't help me anyway." He kicks the desk with a heavy scowl. "You're not mom. So stop acting like you are." Kiara purses her lips together. She reckons she should be used to hearing the same remark over and over, but it never fails to smart. "No. I'm not," she agrees "But I'm here right now, and I'm the best you got." "Joy." Kiara narrows her eyes a bit, "Matt..." "Miss Cross? Please enter." Kiara looks up when the cold, clipped tone cuts off what she was about to say. The door to the principal's office has opened, revealing the tall and thin woman who is dressed in a navy skirt suit with black stockings. The thin, pursed lips do nothing to hide the stern wrinkles around the aging mouth, graying hair pulled into a tight enough bun that many would like to attribute her ever sour mood to a headache and Kiara is certain the creases around the woman's steely gray eyes have nothing to do with smiling. She stares down at the siblings through half moon glasses. Kiara can only hope she didn't hear just how little control she has over her brother. "Mrs. Hawkings." she greets, straightening up as if she's the one in trouble. She gives Matthew a final, stern glance as the principal steps aside enough for her to enter. Once she does, the door closing behind her feels more like a death sentence, if anything. "Sit down, please." Kiara sits down on the chair she's found herself far too many times ever since Matthew started attending the school. However, rather than on the woman sitting at the other side of the large oak desk, Kiara's eyes are drawn to the lace tablecloth covering it. Plum in color; it reminds her of Dante's eyes. When no word comes from Kiara, Mrs. Hawkings clears her throat, drawing the young woman's attention. "So," she starts, beady eyes narrowed. "Here we are. _Again_." purposefully placing the emphasis on again, her thin hands lace together on the desk. "Yes..." "That would make this the fourth time this semester, would it not?" Kiara bites the inside of her cheek. She was here the other meetings as well, she _knows_ how many of them there were. "May I ask what happened this time, Mrs. Hawkings?" Turning up her nose at Kiara, Mrs. Hawkings straightens up even further. "Apparently young Matthew thought it fit to punch a fellow student in an attempt to grab his wallet." Kiara's eyes widen in response. "Come again?" She can't believe what she's hearing! Did he really sink that low? The accusing stare the older woman casts her doesn't make her feel any better about the situation, as if _she's_ to blame for whatever happened. "He had... requested Jamie Williams’ wallet, Miss Cross. In front of various witnesses, after bruising Mr. Williams’ rib with his fist. The only reason we haven’t contacted the police is because the testimonies are questionable in nature, being that they were solely from Mr. Williams’ friends." "So there's still a chance that it didn't happen, right?" Kiara asks quickly. "Be that as that may, an entire group of students has witnessed Matthew suddenly attacking Mr Williams. Based on that fact alone, I am forced to suspend your brother for a month." "But he'll be a month behind on everything! And you're not even sure about exactly what happened-" She is cut off by the way the principal's eyes narrow disapprovingly. "If one more incident occurs, miss Cross. He will be missing far more than just a month. Honestly, raising a 15-years old boy is no task for a _child_. If your parents would be even the _slightest_ bit more responsible-" Kiara drops her gaze back to the tablecloth, zoning out as the rant on her parents continues. Why is _she_ the one getting lectured now? It's not as if she asked for this sort of situation. It's unfair. "I'm sorry, but will this be all?" Kiara has no doubt that, had she looked up just then, she would have been met with a highly indignant look at her interruption. But that's the least of her concerns right now. "I suppose we are done," she concedes in clipped tones "For now." Finally tearing her gaze away from the tablecloth, Kiara stands up and extends her hand for the elder woman politely. The long, slightly dry fingers wrap around her own just a tad too firmly and Kiara just _knows_ it's on purpose. "Call your parents. And tell them to come home and raise your brother. The way they _should_." "That is a highly inappropriate thing to say, Mrs. Hawkings." Kiara responds through gritted teeth. "The truth is often inappropriate, miss Cross." Turning on her heel, Kiara strides out of the office, firmly closing the door behind her. Matthew quickly leans away from the thin wall he'd be leaning against in an effort to overhear what was going on, but she doesn't comment on that. Instead, she keeps walking, not glancing back as she tosses him a swift, "We're leaving." Matthew sluggishly rises from his seat, icepack in one hand, his book bag in the other, before he follows at a leisurely pace despite the ever growing distance between the two. By the time he opens the door to the passenger seat, Kiara is already buckled up, the engine running. "She said you attacked someone to get his wallet, is this true?" Kiara asks, not taking her gaze off of the window as she hears Matthew close the door behind him. "Doesn't matter what I'll say, does it?" Matthew scowls, slumping on his seat "Not like anyone's gonna believe me anyway." "Seat belt." Kiara mutters, only pulling out of the parking space after Matthew is strapped in properly. "And it _does_ matter. If you say you didn't do it, then I'll believe you." "Yeah? Well, I say that’s not what happened." "What _did_ happen then?" Kiara asks, only to be met with silence. "Matt." she urges, briefly glancing at him from the corner of her eyes, but her brother's gaze remains solidly on the window. _"Matthew."_ "God, you're so annoying, just shut up already!" Matthew scowls, kicking the dashboard. Clenching her jaw, Kiara's fingers clutch the steering wheel until her knuckles turn white. "Matthew Davidson Cross, that is _no_ way to talk to me." "Yeah? Well _bite me_." Tears sting her eyes, and Kiara would like to think it's the soreness of her clenched teeth causing them, rather than the behavior of her brother. She can taste some blood. The silence lingers heavily in her car, the hairs on her arms standing upright from the sudden chill she's feeling. No matter what she tries, no matter what she says, will it ever be good enough? Will she ever be able to make this work out properly? A poster catches her eye when they're forced to wait before a traffic light. "Look, it's a poster of mom." she motions towards a movie of a hyped up, up and coming movie that is due to be released in two to three months. The familiar visage of their mother is plastered on the large poster board: the main character once again. Lucina Cross, known to the public as the famed Lucy Lawson. Still, not even the mention of their mother is enough to draw Matthew's attention, and Kiara gives up on further conversation. By the time they reach their home, a large Victorian themed building made up of three floors, an attic and a basement, and large arched windows spread across the high walls, Matt leaves the car before Kiara even has time to turn off the engine. "Matt, come back!" Kiara calls out, opening her door. "We're not done talking yet!" But the only response she receives is the front door slamming shut behind Matthew as he hurries inside without a glance back. "Damnit..." Kiara drops her head on the steering wheel with a groan. "How am I supposed to deal with this...?"

_"Kiara..."_

"Huh...?" Opening her eyes again, Kiara finds herself standing in a grand, dimly lit bedroom. The antique Victorian furniture looks like it’s made of gold rather than wood, and all the fabric is in varying shades of black silk and red velvet. The subtle scent of sandalwood incense penetrates her nose. Her heart pounces in her chest, gaze flitting around the room. The way the candles flicker gently in the distance make her think of a dream I might have had once or twice in the past, even if she doesn’t remember ever seeing a scene like this before. "This is... a dream...?" she breathes out, voice barely audible as she turns around. "Do you wish for it to be?" Kiara turns around at the sound of the smooth voice, shivers running down her neck at the familiar baritone. It's only when the skirt whips past her legs that she realizes that she is wearing a long velvety dress. The dark red color appears black in the dim light, the slit on one side going higher than she is comfortable with. However, any thoughts on the attire are wiped away when her gaze falls on the other occupant of the room. Dante is leaning against one of the poles of the grand four poster bed, red silken fabric draped across the mattress beautifully, littered with red and black rose petals. His fierce mauve eyes gaze seems to glow in the dim light, peering out from under his messy black hair. His black button up shirt is unbuttoned and untucked from his black jeans, while his black leather shoes reflect the light of the candles ever so slightly. Kiara's breath catches in her throat. "It _must_ be a dream..." Her heart skips a beat when Dante's lips twitch into a subtle smirk. "Then, we must be in your head right now..." his low voice sends another shiver down her spine as Dante pushes himself off of the bedpost. "_I_ must be in your head right now...?" he purrs, extending a hand for her to take. Kiara takes it without hesitation and in one smooth move she is pulled against his cheek. His other hand comes to rest on her lower back while his heated gaze doesn't leave her for even a second. Surely, it must be a dream, because Kiara is certain that it's impossible for a person's heart to race this fast without combustion. "So... Am I...?" "Yeah..." Kiara breathes out, barely taking notice of anything but his alluring eyes. He'd be able to ask her to admit to any crime in the world right now and she wouldn't think twice about agreeing. "Good..." he murmurs, his smirk growing as he leans down, lips next to her ear. "Because you are the one in my head, too. _Always_." A shudder of excitement runs down Kiara's spine when Dante's large hands gently ease her back onto the bed, his broad frame towering over her. "Let’s have you think of me even more, shall we?" He murmurs, slowly dragging his fingers up her leg via the skirt's slit as he leans closer, his breath landing on her lips gently. Kiara's back arches and her eyes flutter closed to accept the kiss- _"Tsk."_ "... Huh?" Did he just click his tongue?

When Kiara opens her eyes she is once again in the car, Luca worriedly shaking her. "Kiara, are you alright?" "Hm...?" She blinks a few times to get rid of the daze, slowly realizing where she is, and with who she is. "Thank Heavens..." Luca gives her a crooked smile, breathing out a relieved sigh. "I thought something was wrong. Looks like you just fell asleep." "Oh, uh..." Kiara stares at him for a moment before nodding. Of course it was a dream. What else could it be? It's impossible for it to have been real, no matter how real it all felt. But, to dream something like _that_... A flush works its way up her cheeks, only deepening when Luca's eyebrow raises. "You, uh... You're early." she stutters out quickly. "I saw you sitting in your car from my room, and since you weren't moving... Are you _really_ okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine, I just- I don't know, I didn't sleep well, so..." Kiara mutters, rubbing her eyes. Had she really been so tired to fall asleep in her _car_ of all things? How odd. "Hm..." Luca furrows his brow a bit, then shakes his head. "Come on, I'll help you get inside, okay? You can take a proper nap there. Or you can talk to be about how things went with Mrs. Hawkface. Mom'll call me when dinner's done." Kiara's lips twitch slightly at the juvenile name that was used back when they attended to school themselves. "Thanks... I could really use someone to talk to, about that." "That bad, huh?" "Yeah, and _then_ some." Finally leaving the car, Kiara tries not to push the dream from her mind. Why did she dream about a man she's only met once? Why did she dream something like _that_...? Luca's voice is a welcome distraction as she follows the blonde inside her house. It was just a dream. No point in giving it much more thought. What else could it be, right?

_Just a dream..._

#god has spoken 「 ooc 」

3 notes · View notes