#it’d be so satisfying to have a small shelf of things I made in print you know? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bonniobonnott · 4 years

Photo

The Beast You've Made of Me

With the appearance of Alaric Saltzman and his gaggle of supernatural misfits, Kai Parker is given everything he needs to escape his prison world with an added bonus: no one remembers him. So, when he finds himself in 2031, the world is his oyster, but there’s only one thing on his mind: Bonnie Bennett.

Dedicated to @koiporker

note: self repost

Triggers: Death, Abandonment, Violence, Blood, Drug Mention, Gore

For all the years Malachai Parker had been seeking salvation from his prison, he’d never imagined it would come in the form of a magical mud pit of all things. It wasn’t much to look at, not nearly as pretty as first ticket out of a prison world, nor was it as entertaining, but he wasn’t going to complain. Whatever lied beyond it’s murky depths had to be better than this, if only for the sheer fact that he’d known he hadn’t let the witch win. So, after making his final phone call in dear old 2018, he tossed the phone he was using across the room, and prepared himself for the most anticipated swan dive of his life. With a sigh of relief, and a smile in his face, the heretic leaned back on his heels and let himself fall. As he was engulfed in the mud, the last clear thought he had was one name: Bonnie Bennett.

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

When he emerged from the pit, covered in sludge and muck, it wasn’t until he stepped food on solid ground that he let himself take a deep breath. It didn’t feel real until then, and then the realization truly struck him, and the gemini let out a laugh. He was out. He was really out. All at once he felt his emotions hit him like a ton of bricks. Excitement. Fear. Anger. Despair. All of those emotions culminated in a wave of nausea that over took him, and as easy as it would have been to turn it all off, he didn’t. He needed that anger, and that fire, and most of all, he needed a clear head.

As the heretic’s laughter died down, he wiped his face, his eyes first, and then past lips that were silent but still bright with a smile. “ Son of a bitch, I made it. ” There was no one else to here his declaration, not a single soul, and yet, he found himself saying it again. “ I fucking made it. ” In the glow of the candlelight, he let himself enjoy it for just a few moments more before his thoughts turned back to those emotions, and why they were so very important.

First to come off were the gloves, the digit less fiends sliding off into a slimey mess of the ground. Next came the jacket, which lasted a few moments longer, but only long enough for Kai Parker to further wipe off his hands with the dryer bits on inside before it met the same fate of the gloves. With his hands as clean as they’d come for the moment, he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a mostly clean sandwich bag from his pocket, having been saved a muddy grave by the jacket. No, the thing was practically pristine, and he could even see the jam covered finger prints he’d left on it before Josette’s family had so rudely barged in. No matter, none of it mattered now, all of it water under the bridge as he held up the bag to the light, smiling even wider at the sight of the contents: a button, the only thing a witch had left behind when she’d left him in that karaoke bar.

He’d thought he’d just been too lucky whenever he’d found the lone silver button lying over by the karaoke machine inside the bar years ago after Alaric’s rejects had set him free. It had reflected the red light up at him mockingly when he first saw it, and he wasn’t sure what had enticed him to pick it up, but when he did, he remembered where he’d seen it before. A witch had been wearing a jacket with the same button when she’d damned him to live out his worst fear, and made the soundtrack of his hell a song he hated. In that moment he’d store the thing away, knowing when the time would come, it would be his ticket to finding her. Now the time had come, and he was only a shower and a locator spell away from returning the favor. Don’t worry Bon Bon, I’m on my way.

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

In all the times he’d pictured it, he’d try to imagine what the Bennett would look like after all the time they’d spent apart. Would she have smile lines burned into her face from years of gracing the world with its warmth, or crows feet around her eyes that came with time. A million questions had crossed his mind, and he’d imagined thousands of possibilities, but none of it was as satisfying as seeing all of those ideas proven wrong by the real thing. No, Bonnie Bennett didn’t have any laugh lines, or crows feet, no, she looked just like he remembered her. Smooth skin, green eyes filled with fire, and lips that could drip with honey or venom, if you asked nicely. The years had taken nothing from her but time, and that was exactly where he wanted her.

The heretic had expected to find the Bennett in Mystic Falls, playing the role of the martyr as she always did. The one who sacrificed so her friends didn’t have to, the witch stronger than any of them reduced to little more a pawn in their eyes, it would have even been comical if it wasn’t so sad. Instead, the locator spell had led him to small market in Georgia, admiring the witch as she looked over the produce. He hadn’t bothered with a cloaking spell, he didn’t need one, not when she wouldn’t remember her anyway. Toying with the apple in his hand to seem preoccupied, he couldn’t peel his eyes off of her as her focus stayed glued to the contents of the basket hanging on her arm as she moved down the aisle.

“ Are you looking for something or are you just going to keep staring? ”

The familiar voice caught him off guard, but it prompted a sly smile on the face of the heretic. It was only when the green eyes he knew so well met his own that he answered her query.

“ Oh, no, I found just what I was looking for. ”

With that, he wasted no time closing the gap between them, grabbing the item directly to her right with a smirk. Her own eyes looked at him accusingly, but she didn’t say a word as she went to step away and lowered her gaze from his own.

“ Where are my manners, Kai Parker. ”

There was no reason to lie, it’s not like the name would mean anything to her, or the rest of the Scooby Gang, or anyone else for that matter. He was a ghost, a phantom, and not even the brilliant witch before him could be able to put the pieces together.

“ Bonnie Bennett. ”

He noticed the slight inflection in her voice, it was the same way she’d talked to Damon about him before she’d learned of his sins. It was cute, damn near adorable actually, to see history repeating with the witch, unknown to her. The Bennett witch was suspicious of him. Clever girl, Bon Bon. Then again, she always had been. Always the clever one, the smart one who thought she could get away anything, but she wouldn’t get away from it this time. While Malivore had been his saving grace, he would be her own slice of hell. If he couldn’t send her there, he could give her just a taste, and she wouldn’t get away so easily this time.

“ It’s nice to meet you, Bonnie Bennett. ”

He watched her hesitate as he offered his hand, the same skepticism in her eyes as always as she finally reached out and took his hand. Feeling her magic humming beneath his finger tips, it took everything he had not to drain her dry right there. It’d been so long since he’d had it, even a taste of her magic was enough to keep him running on a high for days, he was an addict, looking for a hit, and he had it right in his grubby hands. His eyes focused on her jugular vein, thinking about how easy it would be to tear it open with his teeth, how pretty she’d look in her own blood pool on the ground when he was done with her. One move, and that would be it. She could be dead before she hit the floor, the way she should have been eighteen years ago when he’d given Damon the ultimatum. But he’d waited this long, he could wait a longer. Just a little longer.

“ New to town, Kai Parker? I’ve never seen you here before... ”

He wasn’t surprised when she didn’t return his greeting, and the suspicion lingered, though he didn’t really care as the sound of his name on her lips sent a shiver down his spine, the way it always did, whether it was said in a scream or a whisper, it didn’t matter. It was almost like nothing had changed, well, almost nothing.

“Yes, actually. Just got done with a long and unexpected vacation, so I decided to drop by and visit an old friend, might stick around for awhile.”

Dropping her hand, he moved down the way, taking some time to look at the options presented to him, but none of them were what he wanted. It wasn’t the food he was hungry for. The witch could have turned away and walked away, but she didn’t, and he knew she wouldn’t. In some ways, Bonnie Bennett was too nosy for her own good, and that was exactly what he was counting on. As he browsed, he felt the familiar green eyes on him, examining him, trying to figure him out. If only you knew, he thought coyly to himself with a smile. He let it go one for a few moments, pretending not to notice, the same way she had, hand firmly wrapped around whatever had been in front of him on the shelf before he piped up.

“ Are you looking for something or are you just going to keep staring? ”

This time he caught her off guard, and he cocked his head to look at her just in time to see it in her eyes as she was caught red handed..

“ I - ”

There’s no time to let her make up an excuse, he’d done that way too many times to fall for that.

“ Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind gorgeous babes staring at me in grocery stores but .... ”

Ever more flustered, he could even tell her cheeks were starting to get warm as she tried to regain her composure. Bonster sure looked good, even when she was trying to dig herself out of a hole.

“ I wasn’t staring, I was just - “

Now he couldn’t help but chuckle, taking his opportunity to cut her off one more time.

“ Staring. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, it can be our little secret Bon Bon ”

The only saying rang in his ears as he made her his promise. Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead. Oh well, he wouldn’t have to wait long for that, and he was sure one more secret wouldn’t drown him in guilt. At that, the Bennett witch managed a small smile, and her signature eye roll.

“ Okay .... thanks. ”

As the witch turned to walk away, he felt like he’d won this round, even if she hadn’t known she’d been playing. He could have stopped her, kept the conversation going, lulled her further into a sense of safety, or even just raised her suspicions for the hell of it, but instead he let her go, almost letting her out of ear shot before calling out to the witch.

“ Until next time, Bennett? ”

He was smug, confident and cocky with his question as he raised an eyebrow at the witch. Turning back to glance at the Parker, the Bennett offered him a small smirk.

“ Assuming there’s a next time, Parker. ”

“ Maybe there will be.”

“Or maybe there won’t. Goodbye, Kai.”

“Bye Bye, Bonnie.”

Thirteen years may have passed since the last time they’d spoken, and the world may have moved on without him, but Bonnie Bennett was the same as she always was: cocky, stubborn, sarcastic, fire still burning in those emerald eyes, exactly the way he wanted her. She could run, but she couldn’t hide, and it was only a matter of time until next time, and next time, she might not be so lucky. You can run, Bonnie Bennett, but you can’t hide. One way, or another, I’m going to find you, and I’m going to get you.

#bonkai fanfic #bonkai #bonnie bennett #kai parker #malachai parker #• ship ♡ bonkai #• character: bonnie bennett #• character: kai parker

49 notes · View notes

huntergatherercreator · 4 years

Text

The Takedown | Part Seven

Pairing: Mob!Tom Holland x Detective Reader

Summary: NYC has a new drug lord determined to wipe out any and all competition in order to grow his empire. You're going undercover to stop him.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, blood, weapons, violence, some swearing

Notes: Took a little longer to get this done because we're all on baby watch! My niece has decided she wants to make an early appearance so I've been frantically crocheting a half finished blanket for her instead of writing, I'm sorry!

Catch up here:

Part 7 – 1,564 Words

I slid further back into the stairwell, my brain working. He didn’t know what apartment was mine. I wasn’t sure what he aimed to gain by listening to the neighbours, unless he was hoping one would walk out and point him in the right direction. He’d obviously never had to do anything like this before.

He had two more floors to check, meaning he’d be headed back my way in less than a minute. I’d have to draw him to somewhere secluded; somewhere he couldn’t hurt anyone if he got nervous and pulled his weapon. I lightly hurried down the steps to the first floor level and waited until I heard him above. Then I deliberately shoved the stairwell door loudly before casually winding my way down to the basement, making an effort to step heavily enough for the noise to travel up the staircase, and staying in sight. Reaching the basement I entered the laundry room, and ducked into the cleaning supply closet to the left of the door. The basement room wasn’t big, it held three dryers on one wall, three matching washers on the other and a small sink at the end next to the door for the maintenance room. I’d have to act fast when he entered.

It didn’t take him long to reach me. He swung into the room blindly, gun raised and froze when he realised he was alone. Creeping out behind him I kicked the back of his knees. He dropped heavily. Reflexively throwing his hands out to steady himself the gun skittered across the concrete floor out of reach. Scrambling up he made to retrieve it. I landed on his back, trying to use my weight to hold him still but he bucked and writhed under me.

Managing to turn, his fist flailed and caught my arm. It wasn’t a hard hit but pain sliced through me as my wound protested causing my grip on his hoodie to loosen. He tossed me off, kicking out to keep me back as he crawled closer to the gun. I timed his kicks and grabbed his ankle, yanking with all my might to drag him away before dropping onto him again. My knee hit him hard in the gut as he struggled, the breathe whooshing out of him. With his hood back I could see his face contorted with anger. He wasn’t going to stop fighting until he had the gun in his hand again. Wouldn’t stop until he shot me. His hands rose to yank at my hair as he caught his breath, fingers clawing for my throat. Clenching my teeth I threw a left handed punch at his nose. It burst on impact leaving him gasping again as blood poured into his mouth. As soon as I felt his struggling falter I shoved up just enough to dive for the gun. My fingers caught it as his arms wrapped around my waist to pull me away. I released the clip, hurriedly sliding it under the closest machine, then covered the butt with a two handed grip and turned on him.

Instead of fear, his expression soured as he took in the gun pointed at his face. Arnold may not be anywhere near as clever as he pretended to be but I’d never taken him as stupid enough to believe he’d escape being shot more than once. The altercation with Holland had obviously inflated his ego.

“Get up, and move over there.” I tipped my head towards the sink end of the room. As he backed off I stood, putting my back to the machines to brace myself in case he tried to rush me. He raised his hands reluctantly, skirting around me to where I’d indicated.

“Who knows you’re here?” I asked. His jaw worked minutely before he answered.

“A few trusted individuals. They know to come for me if I don’t get back in touch.” It was a lie. The twitch of his jaw was a tell. He’d made the assumption that I’d be easily dealt with and had decided to go it alone.

“Holland must have taken a real dislike to me to want me dead after one meeting”, I mused. Again his jaw flickered before he spoke.

“He doesn’t like bitches who don’t know their place. He sent me to teach you a lesson.” He sneered at me. His words backed up what I’d already surmised; this was personal to him. He was out for me because I’d humiliated him in front of gang members and business partners alike. Even if Holland decided he wasn’t going to kill him I’d ruined his credibility, and in his line of work without that was a death sentence in itself.

I was caught in a dilemma. I couldn’t let him walk out knowing where I lived. If I did he’d only try this again, or arrange for someone else to find me instead. I also couldn’t keep him here, not when someone could walk in at any minute.

Keeping the gun trained on him I glanced up at the shelves lining the wall. Most held detergents and laundry sheets but there was one at the end that had a small bundle of rope, most likely used to hang things out on the fire escape.

“Sit down.” I commanded. He hesitated, grimacing as he took in the dirty floor, before slowly crouching and sitting with his back against the wall. I edged over to the shelf and internally cursed as I realised I’d have to climb onto the machine to reach back far enough to grab it.

That split second distraction had him throwing himself at me in an attempt to catch me off guard. His fingers grazed my wrist just as I spun the gun to line the barrel up with the heel of my hand. I kicked at his groin to shove him back then swiftly brought the gun barrel down on his temple. He crumpled at my feet.

Letting out a shaky breath I tucked the gun in my pocket. After climbing onto the nearest machine to grab the rope I crouching to check Arnolds pulse and roll him onto his back. Satisfied I hadn’t hit him too hard and that he wouldn’t choke to death I jimmied the maintenance room door open.

Used only to house the main pipes and electrics for the building no-one ever ventured in to the room, not even the landlord so I knew it’d be safe enough to leave him there until he regained consciousness. I hoped that by then I’d have worked out exactly what to do with him.

Gripping at his ankles again I slowly managed to drag him into the room. My arm burned in protest but I forced past the pain reminding myself that he’d been brazenly walking around with a gun in his pocket ready to shoot me, so there was no telling what he’d do to any innocent bystander that found him.

Sweat was running off me by the time I got him propped up in a sitting position and had used the length of rope to tie his wrists together and then tie them to his ankles. I wasn’t taking any chances. I frisked his pockets and only found a cell phone and a business credit card.

The phone conveniently had a fingerprint unlock setting meaning I was in and looking through all his documents in minutes. Most emails and messages were business related, after a quick scan all seemed standard. However his calls list was more suspicious. The man had over 70 contacts on his phone, all precisely named along with the company they belonged to, but his last three call records were to an un-named number.

One was inbound, two were out. The most recent outgoing was dated last night at 10.31pm. Right around the time Holland had shown up at the club. I couldn’t imagine he’d be the type of person to ever accidentally dial someone’s number, not with a finger print lock on his phone. But then why intentionally call and not say anything? I struggled to clearly think back, I’d been too engrossed in watching Holland arrive like everyone else. I berated myself as my gut started to twinge, telling me I was missing something big. I closed my eyes, playing back what had happened. Holland had arrived, stood at the top of the VIP steps as he took off his coat. I mentally tried to latch onto Arnold during that moment. All I could see was him waiving impatiently at a server for a drink. If he had intentionally called someone then he’d never intended to speak to them.

My thoughts pushed forward in time to the alleyway. I had brushed off the fact Arnold got out unscathed due to the fact he wasn’t the primary target, and had simply been ruled out as a threat by the shooter. Now as I remembered it Arnold had been on his feet before the first shot rang out. Before the guard, Lenny, had been killed. There was no way he had realised the handgun pointed at his head didn’t need to be cocked like the rifle that had been trained on us. He’d heard that sound and known it was coming. The call he’d placed had been a marker dial, to let the shooter know Holland had arrived.

--------

Taglist:

@spideylovin

@lukesbabylon

@panicattheeverywherekid

@keep-bears-wild

@unbelievableholland

@tomholland-mcu

Part Eight is here!

#mob!tom #mob!tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland

59 notes · View notes

veeteeshirt · 4 years

Text

My lovely friend and roommate, @lilas, commissioned me for some domestic fanfic of her Wayhaven Detective, Kai, and Adam building Ikea furniture. :^)

—

Warehouse Living Room

—

Adam didn’t even look like he felt the heft of either box he had tucked under each arm. With an amazing amount of gentleness, he set one next to the other against a wall relatively empty of tasteful wall decor and Nate’s beloved antique furniture. Satisfied, Adam drew close to Kai, their arms brushing against each other.

Kai shifted closer, enjoying the casualness of the touch.

“We should have sufficient room here to unbox and construct both shelves,” Adam swept his gaze across the room. “First we need to locate the instructions.”

“Adam we don’t need an entire action plan for this,” Kai withdrew a utility knife from his pocket and flicked it open. “It’s an Ikea shelf, not a battle strategy.”

“If we were meant to simply forgo the instructions, they would not have included them in the first place,” Adam said, voice stiff. “It would be most efficient to collect the materials and necessary equipment.”

“Pfft, whatever,” Kai shouldered past him to begin cutting open the boxes. “Listen, if legions of college kids can do this, so can we.”

“It’s not a doubt of our ability, Kai.” Adam crosses his arms, eyeing the way Kai flung out little bags of loose screws and nuts and shoved larger pieces into a messy pile to the side. “Merely the best course of action.”

“For you, maybe,” Kai pointed the knife at Adam. A smirk curved his lips up, his eyes glinting. “I guess you might not just be intuitive enough to figure out something this simple.”

Adam’s icy green eyes flashed hot and bright emerald with challenge. A muscle in his jaw clenched and his shirt grew ever more taut from the tightening of his arms. One day, Kai swore, one of his damn shirts would give up the ghost and rip for Kai to revel in.

Sadly, today was not the day.

“Oh, is that what you think,” Adam ground out in a barely concealed sneer. He approaches him, shoulders rounded up to his ears, dropping to his knees. “Fine, we shall see how quickly your so-called plan lasts.”

Kai met his fiery gaze with an intense one of his own and ran his thumb along his bottom lip. “Bet.”

Several Minutes Later

—

It hadn’t taken more than a couple passes of the material that threw Adam into frustrated dive for the instructions that Kai had crumpled and tossed to a lone corner. He didn’t meet his eyes when Kai watched the vampire storm over to it, apparently trying to avoid his one small smug victory.

Except now they were fighting about something else.

“Adam we have to actually open the bags,” Kai gestured pointedly to the handful of screws and washers he already managed to open before Adam caught onto him. “If we actually want to use them.”

“And use them we shall,” Adam grit out. He rapped a finger against the crumpled instructions. “But we don’t need them now.”

“Yes, but we will!” Kai threw his hands up. “And when we do, they will be right there for us to use instead of still being stuck in their bags.”

“Or one will go inevitably missing and we spend time looking for the lost piece,” Adam countered, eyes narrowing. “Does that sound like a good time saving measure, Kai?”

“I can see where they are, Adam, they’re right there!” Kai ripped the paper from his hand and scanned for the illustrations that listed each individual piece and how many of them should be included. “Look, see, this is the, uh… those screws are the, the ⅞” screws!”

“Really,” Adam said flatly. He held up one bag he managed to hoard. In tiny print, the bag stated in simple text the screws Kai had just tossed out there in hopes of shutting Adam up. “Because I do believe these are the ⅞” screws.”

“Whatever,” Kai groaned, rubbing the heel of his hand hard against his eyes. Fighting with Adam usually went this way where he or Adam would catch each other in stupid circular arguments that went no where until he (usually) or Adam (rarely) relented. “Fine, we can gather up all the bits and bobs and put them on a table at least before they all go rolling away.”

Satisfaction softened Adam’s brow and mouth. As much as Kai hated knowing Adam won this fight, the sight of it still clenched at his heart. “Good.”

Forty-five Minutes Later

—

Earlier, Nate passed by the living room and ducked his head in, probably drawn in by the loud argument that started once they started to put pieces together. When Kai met his concerned gaze, he piled on as much of “don’t fucking get involved” energy as he could muster in one glare. Luckily, Felix was close by and ushered Nate away with some excuse that didn’t Natey need to go re-organize the library books? Felix threw him a sympathetic wave and half smile before disappearing with Nate, voice trailing after him and asking why he would need to re-organize his books.

Now a partially constructed shelf stood between them, the uncapped metal rods jutting into the air the same way each barb they hurled at each other did.

“You used the wrong metal rod here, Adam,” Kai pointed to the shelf that wouldn’t settle down straight due to the uneven bars intended to hold it together. “See? There’s supposed to be a notch here that’s just- not there.”

Adam marched close to him and glared at the rod like if he could force an open notch there if he simply looked hard enough. If he had the ability, Kai didn’t doubt he could actually do just that if the hardness in Adam’s eyes said anything.

“Ridiculous, this is why we should have separated like pieces together at the beginning!” Adam scoffed. “Then perhaps I wouldn’t have grabbed the wrong piece when you distracted me by groping my arms.”

“Like that, did you?” Kai smirked at the sudden flush of red that creeped up Adam’s neck. “I can’t help but want to appreciate your physique sometimes, Adam. You can’t fault me for that.”

Adam’s top lip twitched as it did when he was biting back a comment. His lips rolled together for a moment before settling briefly into a half smile.

“I suppose I can’t when I can be charged for doing the same.”

The comment sent a thrill of excitement up Kai’s spine, eliciting a small shiver. Even now Adam’s moments of open flirtation could ignite a pleasurable heat in his chest that would only take the slightest of touches to fan into an inferno.

Like the one Adam was administering now, his fingertips ghosting down his hip. Adam held their gaze as he leaned in close, eyes smouldering.

“...But this still illustrates why we should have organized from the beginning.”

And just like that, that inferno quelled for a different to spark.

“Really Adam, really?” Kai scowled, swinging around and clenching the screwdriver. “Let’s just take apart the damn thing so we can use the right piece and finish this.”

Adam let out a laugh, soft with amusement, and a curl of a different fire drew a small smile across Kai’s lips.

Early Evening, Kai and Adam’s Room

—

It’d taken them the better part of the afternoon between the bickering and brief spats of flirtation (and the occasional make out, tucked away from at least the obvious line of sight), but finally the two shelves stood proud and complete in their space Kai made for them. Even Adam seemed to admire their work, resting a hand on the small of his back.

“Suppose we make a good team,” Kai leans his cheek against Adam’s shoulder, already thinking about the look of tumbling leaves curling down the rods and what color of glazed pots or reclaimed wood might look nice. “When we’re not fighting.”

“Of course we do,” Adam brushes his lips across his temple. “I am capable of appreciating your differing thought process and understanding when you are right.”

“I do love the sound of that,” Kai sighed around a smile. “You telling me that I’m right.”

Adam grunted. “Yes, well. Have you given thought to what plants you want on our new shelves?”

“Pfft, no,” Kai chuckled deeply. He could feel Adam tense in anticipation of what would come out of his mouth next. “I was just going to go to the gardening center and wing it.”

Adam groaned.

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc #twc detective #adam du mortain #a du mortain #fanfiction #domestic fluff #also domestic idiots

9 notes · View notes

bonniobonnotta · 4 years

Photo

The Beast You've Made of Me

Dedicated to @koiporker

Triggers: Death, Abandonment, Violence, Blood, Drug Mention, Gore

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

“ Are you looking for something or are you just going to keep staring? ”

The familiar voice caught him off guard, but it prompted a sly smile on the face of the heretic. It was only when the green eyes he knew so well met his own that he answered her query.

“ Oh, no, I found just what I was looking for. ”

“ Where are my manners, Kai Parker. ”

“ Bonnie Bennett. ”

“ It’s nice to meet you, Bonnie Bennett. ”

“ New to town, Kai Parker? I’ve never seen you here before... ”

“Yes, actually. Just got done with a long and unexpected vacation, so I decided to drop by and visit an old friend, might stick around for awhile.”

“ Are you looking for something or are you just going to keep staring? ”

This time he caught her off guard, and he cocked his head to look at her just in time to see it in her eyes as she was caught red handed..

“ I - ”

There’s no time to let her make up an excuse, he’d done that way too many times to fall for that.

“ Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind gorgeous babes staring at me in grocery stores but .... ”

Ever more flustered, he could even tell her cheeks were starting to get warm as she tried to regain her composure. Bonster sure looked good, even when she was trying to dig herself out of a hole.

“ I wasn’t staring, I was just - “

Now he couldn’t help but chuckle, taking his opportunity to cut her off one more time.

“ Staring. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, it can be our little secret Bon Bon ”

“ Okay .... thanks. ”

“ Until next time, Bennett? ”

He was smug, confident and cocky with his question as he raised an eyebrow at the witch. Turning back to glance at the Parker, the Bennett offered him a small smirk.

“ Assuming there’s a next time, Parker. ”

“ Maybe there will be.”

“Or maybe there won’t. Goodbye, Kai.”

“Bye Bye, Bonnie.”

#bonkai #bonnie and kai #bonnie bennett #kai parker #malachai parker #blood tw #gore tw #drug mention tw #violence tw #this was going to be a one shot but if people want more i can probably write more!#especially because i didn't know i was going to write this and then #i heard a song and here we are two hours later

29 notes · View notes

tsunderin · 6 years

Text

Getting Pounded In The Ass By My Inability To Express Emotional Intimacy [A Dungeoning Ficlet]

((Warning for discussion of NSFW topics. The story itself is not NSFW.))

“I wonder,” he spoke coyly, knowing too well the answer to this riddle that stood before him, “what you would do in my situation. To be tempted as such. Knowing the sweetness of honey nestled within your comb...”

A breath left me like an arrow, futilely plunging itself within the air surrounding us--thick with desire--leaving no puncture with which to relieve the mood. “I can have no other.” Ain growled, the raspiness returning to his voice, instinct taking over as he cornered me against the stone wall. I knew I couldn’t escape him--he had my scent. I knew I didn’t want to escape him. I wanted him to take me here just as he had done during Lady Nesterly’s hunt.

My voice came out low, the words leaving like syrup from my lips, hoping to push him over the edge. “Say please.”

His gratitudes were not so verbose; a boon onto itself. Where once I complained of the sensation of stubble against my skin, I now found the prickles enticing, for what lay beyond them was a ruthless barrage of heat and tongue drawing me ever deeper into him and his ken. Forest, sweat, and dusk swirled around me, not even the moon daring to shed her light on our tryst. The dark can spawn such sweet secrets.

The gentleness with which Ain moved my dressings aside cooled my flame. The beast--my beast--content enough to light it once more with a mere meeting of eyes. “I can bear it no longer.” He spoke the words not to the air around him nor himself, but to me this time. A gasp of pleasure escaped me as the head of his… of his…

“What’s another word for ‘cock’?” The light clicking of heels against wood abruptly stopped, the train of thought likewise stopping as though it’d hit a brick wall.

A sigh came from the nearby desk, stacked moderately with papers and various other knicknacks. “I already told you all the ones I knew. What’s wrong with ‘cock’, anyways? ‘Cock’s fine. ‘Cock’s’ reliable.”

“Yes, darling, but I’ve already used it. I’m bored with it and everyone else is too,” the pale slim eclipse of a woman motioned to all the non-existent people standing beside them in their hovel of an inn room. Turning on the ball of her foot, she returned to pacing, this time lacking the staccato beat keeping her narrative flowing. Through all the humming, her companion--lanky and roguish--kept his eyes on the ceiling, more interested in keeping the quill balanced in the space between his nose and upper lip than the seeming issue at hand. “What about….” she drew out the vowels longer than necessary, “meat staff?”

“Don’t use that. Nothin’s sexy about meat.”

She huffed. “Then stinger.”

A soft clatter echoed behind him, the pen finally taking its inevitable plunge. “Isn’t that a little too on the nose? You know, honey, bee, stinger?”

“That’s! The! Point! We’re keeping on brand.”

“Uh huh,” Tom sounded less than impressed. “Noticed you used ‘bear’ earlier too. Hate to say it, but it sounds a lil’ cheesy, Syne.”

“He is a bear, Tom. It’s a very clever and well-thought out callback to his mythical roots. Frankly I’m disappointed that you don’t understand that.”

“I’m just sayin’.”

“And I am “just sayin’”. Who’s the expert here?” The pause that followed after filled with nothing but silence, long enough that if anyone else had happened to be in the room they may have believed that writer and transcriber were competing who could be silent the longest. The battle ended with a sound not unlike steam leaving a teapot. “Fffffffffine. Fine! We’ll take it out!” Syne threw her hands up, stomping back the three steps it took to be as opposite as Tom as she could be. “Does the greatest author of our time of mythical and otherwordly romance have any further knowledge to bestow upon me?”

“Ignoring that I did technically write those books… yeah, I do.” The expression Syne shot him was inscrutable. Mostly because her eyes were covered by her hair. “Writing dirty books is all well ‘n good, but we’re trying to get this out for The Feast of Cups. Don’t you think something more, I ‘unno, romantic would sell better?”

“Oh, Tom. Oh sweet, darling Tom.” She sauntered over to his desk bending slightly potentially looking at him eye-to-eye. “It is a shortsighted folly to aim for one day of glory. Certainly we could entice all lovers and those seeking the fantasy of love with a tale of two hearts overcoming their differences and learning to grow in their affection. But what then?” Her mouth waxed into a crescent moon of a smile. “Remain forgotten on the shelf as another, less worthy tale of princes and bodyguards or some such drivel takes our place? No!” Tom barely flinched as Syne’s palm slammed against the desk.

“We push the envelope of mortal desire not because we want to, but because it. Is. Necessary! ….And also because I want to, yes I’m not denying that, but this is also what the people want. Their underlying promiscuity laid naked and writhing in front of them! Romance is, after all, temporary, while scandal--”

“Lives forever,” Tom finished in a flat tone, all too familiar with this speech. A scrape droned against the floor as Tom pushed out his chair, his knuckles cracking like the spine of a freshly printed book while he stretched. “I’m not invested in it either way. Just thought it’d be fun to shake things up a bit. Like a limited edition kind of deal.”

She watched him curiously for a moment before turning her attention to her own fingers, examining them, moving them around in lieu of anything else to fidget with. “I didn’t realize you were such a romantic, Tom.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for happy endings.” He grinned at nothing in particular before moving towards the door. “I’m going out for a bit. You need anything from… uh, the woods, I guess?”

“Find me the smoothest stone from the bottom of the river, and perhaps I’ll forgive you for your slight against my brilliance.” It took only moments for Tom’s chuckle to dissipate into the air around her, leaving Syne alone with only her thoughts. It’d been a bad year for writing, but a good year for selling. And an all around good-bad year for ghost hunting. As much as she hated to admit it, there was a nugget of sense in what Tom had proposed. The only problem was that the dear fool didn’t realize it was impossible. Not impossible for her, of course. Nothing was impossible for she who had molded her own space in mortal society with the help of no one else. It would be impossible for her audience to fully comprehend the depth and beauty of a tapestry of romance woven from her lips. There would be an epidemic of wailing across the land. Businesses would be closed! Crops would not be harvested! ...Frankly, it would be annoying and Syne would not stand for it.

Yet Tom remained a much valued companion. It wouldn’t hurt to gently show him how much of a failure his idea would be. Holding more intelligence than the average mortal, he would catch on soon enough. Once reaching her conclusion, they would speak on such things no longer, and would return to more important topics of conversation like why mortals had no appealing dirty words for vagina. Or why candle wax was apparently a proper tool to use in the bedroom.

Night had remained firmly settled when Tom returned to the small room finding Syne lying backwards across the meager mattress, her body half on the floor as if she had melted and a low groan emanating from her as though she were still in the middle of the process. She all but jolted up--rather, rolled over on her side and pushed herself to a standing position pretending that her elegance had remained in tact during his absence--the moment the thumping of produce hit the wooden surface. “Ah! Tom. How good of you to return.”

A strange, uncomfortable quiet fell over them as Syne had no other comment to add. “...If you have something to say to me, say it.”

“Patience!” Syne hissed. That non-combatant tone of Tom’s almost made this whole thing worse. Her hair fanned out behind her, unable to maintain eye contact with her friend. “I have decided that this year, we will scandalize our readers in another way! We will boil their hearts into a paste and watch as the remains ooze out onto the grounds below.” Tom’s nose wrinkled in disgust, but he remained quiet. “It’s a brilliant idea, I know. There’s no need for adulations.”

Taking one final satisfying stretch, Tom slid back into the seat and resumed his writing position. “So once more from the top?”

“Yes, yes! Exactly! ...Where were we again?”

“Let’s start from that I wonder speech.”

“Very well. Please steel yourself, darling. I’d hate to find you a quivering mass of feelings, unable to even hold your pen.” Several times Syne opened her mouth to start, and several times no words came to aid her. Yet just as soon as one may have worried, her pacing began and finally words hit the air once more.

“I wonder,” he spoke coyly, knowing too well the answer to this riddle that stood before him, “what you would do in my situation.”

Syne stole a look at Tom. So digilant. Ever focused on the page in front of him. Oh. Oh, she had to keep going before--

He, uh, gently grabbed a lock of my hair between his fingers, inspecting the strands as if scrutinizing a masterwork of art. “Do you know how I yearn for you? How I have yearned for you?” Without warning his lips crashed against-- “No, no. Forget that last part.” Syne’s thoughts felt as unorganized as Tom’s scratches on the paper.

“How I have yearned for you?” I leaned into his warmth as his finger ghosted across my collar bone, aching for his lips to grace more than just my hair. “Hyacinth… you have undone me. I fear… no… I regret… no! ...I remember that night beside the raspberry bush as if I were reliving it each time my mind wanders. I could live without you, b-but the thought of it makes... Makes me…”

“...Are you okay?” Tom looked up, faced with the image of Syne’s forehead pressed against the adjacent wall, arms bracing herself for what looked like a good vomit.

A weak reply barely reached his ears: “I want to die.” She hadn’t even been able to make it through an entire paragraph’s worth of content! These characters weren’t even real! What care did she have that they were exceptionally sappy and in love?! All mortals were that way! Foolish and open with their feelings, ready to be destroyed by their wayward emotions and then having the audacity to be surprised when it was used against them! It was terrible. How were they alive?! Syne could hear her blood pounding in her ears, feel the heat radiating off her face like a stovetop. Nerves clenched her throat shut as she heard Tom’s heavy footsteps draw ever closer and she desperately wished she could phase through the wall and away from him.

Her shoulder blades tensed as his hand heartily landed on the horizon of her shoulder. “I’m starving. We should eat somethin’ before we head out tomorrow morning.”

An off-kilter laugh was too easily managed, and barely shoved aside by Syne clearing her throat and saying actual words. “Yes. Yes, that is a marvelous idea. We shouldn’t rush the muse, after all.” Steadying herself with a breath, Syne’s eyes widened seeing Tom holding not food out to her, but a pale grey thing.

Catching a whiff of her confusion despite the inaccessibility to half of her facial features, Tom again shrugged. “Doubt it’s the smoothest, but it’s pretty smooth. The rock. From the river. Like you asked.”

Long fingers wrapped around the small, oblong stone, running up and down its sides. ...It was pretty smooth. A genuine smile flickered across her mouth--a shooting star for a wish to be made upon. “Such a devoted one you are,” Syne mused quietly before returning to her more typical bombastic mannerisms. “You are forgiven, Tom! Remember my kindness fondly!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Anyways, got an orange and a pear. What do you want.”

“I’ll--” she stopped herself. “You may choose first.”

The look of surprise on Tom’s face was just as fleeting and just as precious. “Suit yourself.”

A romance novel to shake the ages may have been off the table for an indefinite amount of time, but what was such a thing compared to watching Syne eat a mortal orange for the first time, peel and all.

#Rin's Magenta Prose #OC Parade #The Ferryman's Toll #The Dungeoning

2 notes · View notes

hotcocosharing · 7 years

Text

Second Chance Part 21 (IM RP)

Shunichiro Tachibana

Waking up to the smell of bacon and eggs; to the touch of fingers running across my chest, to my collarbones then lastly my bottom lip. It’s been far too long since I’ve had either and I open my eyes to see Midori smiling face with everything sorted and ready. She glows in the early morning light, the sun catching her slight wet curls and setting them aflame like a halo. If last night’s been a mistake, it’s forgotten for now as we share a small smile right before she quickly gets ready and disappears.

There’s a meeting that’s planned for weeks which I can’t postpone so after taking as long as I could in the shower to try and give myself more time to clear my head before I return to the office. Redialing the cab company to come pick me up and rearrange a time to take me to the airport, I’m soon preoccupied by last night’s emails, approvals confirmation from the Olympics committee plus another “intimidating” invitation from the governor. Deliberately ignoring the last one as my ride arrives on time and my morning runs out before I know it.

I groan a bit as I lift my carry-on luggage into the overhead compartment, even in business class, the luggage compartment seems dreadfully small. Eventually, with a satisfying click, it snaps shut. I release a long sigh and flop onto a window seat, shutting my eyes while the rest of the passengers settle down around me.

Free, at last.

Surrounded by strangers with no Internet or any kind of disruptions, the thoughts I’ve been pushing out of my head all morning has now crawled its way back in, Midroi’s smile and words are now on replay-

“You know Shunichiro – I never expected to fall for you nine years ago but I’m sure glad I did.”

During the two hours flight, I begin to doubt my actions and behavior lately. For sealing a deal with the devil and almost risking the Olympic campaign, starting a relationship isn’t so cut and dry with a subordinate, and ruining whatever maybe left between an ex girlfriend. What is it that I’m trying to achieve? And at what cost? The timing couldn’t have been worse as I try to figure out my feelings for two entirely opposite women, but I need to settle this, I have to. For the three of us.

9 years ago

I was just browsing, killing time on a weekend as I stared at the shelves filled with classics and literature aimlessly until a title caught my attention. “Men Without Women”, Across seven tales, Haruki Murakami brings his powers of observation to bear on the lives of men who, in their own ways, find themselves alone. At the age of twenty seven, women was never an issue or an priority but I was intrigued and picked it up to see a girl tip toeing the shelf that’s way too tall for her.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked, I didn’t believe in love at first sight but the flashes of brown hair and a shy smile had my mind blanked for a second. She wanted the book in my hand which nearly made me chuckle, why would a young girl like her wanted to read a series of short stories about men without women? For the first time in years, I wanted to know more about someone so I left my contact on the book, grinning at the thought that I no longer needed to read that book.

Present- 3 Days Later (Sunday)

There’s nothing feels like home- only mine is a house that’s forever empty with no one to welcome or talk to, I am alone and it hasn’t bothered me (in a long time). But today, I have never felt lonelier.

The image of Midori humming around the stove as she makes breakfast, her dance moves would amuse me, and Sachi’s embarrassed face first thing in the morning that puts a smile across my face.

They make me weak.

If I were such a smart and cunning scoundrel, why do I feel so conflicted? Sachi hasn’t replied any of my text unless it’s work related, she’s avoiding me and can’t say I don’t know why.

I should have been fair, cutting ties with the governor and his daughter sooner, stopping the rumor before it’d start. It’s my fault for putting her through unnecessary pressure.

And Midori, we have been chit chatting for days without mentioning the other night. Talking like we used to, nothing too serious or out of the ordinary. I close my eyes, trying to block the recent events from the past weeks out of my mind but all I see is her face.

All I can picture are her smiles, her tears and the fear of her slipping away within my fingertips. My chest tighten with …. something that I’m unfamiliar with, some kind of regret or guilt that I would have to live with.

I have to make this right!

Pulling my phone out and quickly send an address and time as I hurry out the door.

“7pm, The Kitazawa Bookstore, 2-5 Kanda Jimbocho. See you there.”

The place where it all began, where I found the love of my life, where I met Midori Katayani.

Midori Katayani

Three bottles of red wine equates to approximately 12 large glasses – that’s how much alcohol I’ve needed over the last 3 days to stop myself from going insane about work related issues; let alone personal. When I first started my own business, the idea of being one’s own boss seemed easy – like a slice of cake; but geez, even 3 years in and I feel absolutely helpless sometimes when it comes to the little things which always seem out of my control. I’m about to walk down to the cellar and help myself to another bottle when a new member of staff asks for my help with a cocktail she’s not familiar with mixing – just as she asks, my phone starts vibrating in my pocket, a customer who’s had a little too much to drink starts a ruckus at the bar and the power cuts out for a moment leaving everyone stranded in the dark.

It’s unlike me, yet I hold my breath with uncertainty and ask myself the question I almost always do when bad luck seems to come in three – why me? Grabbing a torch from behind the bar, I’m quick to make it to the fuse box and switch the lights back on; there’s a relieved sigh that escapes from almost everyone’s lips when they’re brought back into familiar surroundings of what they know. Drinks continue being ordered – security deals with the ‘I’ve had a little too much to drink’ patron I’d rather not and I’m about to teach someone how to make a Kamikaze when my phone vibrates again – alerting me that I haven’t checked it.

“Right now? Really?”, I murmur quietly whilst grinding my teeth, pulling my phone out. The irritated expression I’m wearing though is quickly erased when I see who the message is from.

[7pm, The Kitazawa Bookstore, 2-5 Kanda Jimbocho. See you there.]

My heart skips a beat when memories instantly flood back into my mind as my eyes re-read over the text to make sure it’s real. Kitazawa – I haven’t been there in years. Didn’t even know the place was still open. Checking my watch to see that it’s already 6.30, I bite my lip and figure that because I didn’t drive into work today to be there by 7 I’d have to leave asap. As much as I hate doing this, I call over a shift supervisor which I know is more than capable of instructing new staff on work place procedures – I wouldn’t have promoted them to the role if I didn’t think otherwise – and apologise for needing to leave so quickly.

It’s a quick dash now to my office to lock up before I head straight for the subway. Ughhh, I haven’t caught a peakhour train in months and had forgotten about the not so comfortable carriage rides. Sardined up against a young school couple who keep talking about breaking their curfew in order to spend a little more time together between kisses and a businessman who smells of beer and soba, I grin and bare it every time I’m forced to shuffle and move. It’s 20 minutes of pure torture when compared to how comfortable a my car or taxi would have been but I don’t have time to waste. Checking my watch again, I notice that it’s just hit 7 – great… for once I’m going to be the one that’s late.

Finally free from the train ride of hell, I manage to scramble out of the station and wander over in a slight rush to where I vaguely remember being the Kitazawa bookstore. Groaning as I read a sign which points in the direction of upstairs, I huff and puff not bothering to waste time and look for an elevator – my watch reads 7.10pm and I mentally scold myself although there’s nothing I can do. Pulling my phone out, I begin punching in Shunichiro’s number as I wander the aisles and take in the simplicity of bound printed texts around me. There’s something calm about being here – something safe – as if all these books could keep my secrets and thoughts within them and if anyone were to read them, I’d still be safe. I don’t even get two dial tones in before I’m walking straight to M aisle in the fiction section which I at first don’t realise.

Funny how some habits don’t change.

Hanging up as I spot Shun and don’t give him time to answer, I walk over quietly – about to apologise when I notice he has something in his hands and I grow curious instantly.

Men Without Women. Mhmm.

“Hate to break it to you Shunichiro but I’ve already read that one.”

My voice is ever so clear as I greet him; hiding the fact that I just wore myself out and felt like I’d endured a marathon. Not planning on saying anything if it’s not pointed out – I avoid bringing up the fact that I’m late.

There’s a smirk which dances across Shun’s lips which as teenage-ish as it sounds – cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye – is definitely my vice. Actually no, I take that back; he’s my vice whether or not he chooses to be.

“Fancy seeing you here”, he breaks the ice with a push in conversation, sliding the book back up onto the shelf; as I watch this, it occurs to me that I’m still too short to reach the top shelf and a giggle escapes me.

“I didn’t realize you were back in town”, I point out, folding my arms across my chest before scratching inside my elbow, “You know – you could give a girl a little more of a heads up before you force her to abandon work and meet you in a bookstore of all places.”

“I didn’t have time”, he explains casually as I feel his eyes trace over me and he rubs the back of his neck shyly. Shun – shy? No he can’t be – I’m definitely imagining things. Perhaps it’s a good thing that I didn’t get to that next bottle of wine. “..and we won’t either if we stand around here talking all day.”

I scoff at the fact that he makes it sound like he’s been waiting a lifetime for me to arrive. Taking my hand and walking me down an aisle of books I wish will never end, I pull on his sleeve to slow him down, curious to know what he has in mind.

“Hold up – just where do you think we’re going?” “Dinner.” “Dinner?” “Mhmm – 7.30 at Gabiaru, you know if we keep talking Midori we’ll be late like someone I know.”

I could already taste the delicious flavour of curry bursting in my mouth at the mere mention of the restaurants name. Gabiaru wasn’t a far walk; actually, I remember meeting up with Shun at the bookstore once years ago because I wasn’t sure of where it was with my directional skills being less than perfect, not wanting to get lost before our first date.

Tugging at his sleeve again as we were just about to start walking, I could feel a blush crawl across my cheeks as I tried desperately not to smile like a lunatic.

“Is this.. are we – hang on just.. bare with me – wait…”, I manage to blubber out uncontrollably, if it’s what I think this is, I wish I was better dressed for the occasion, “..is this a date?”

#voltage inc #voltage rp #voltage role play #irresistible mistakes shunichiro #irresistible mistakes rp #irresistible mistakes role play #Irresistible mistakes #irresitible mistakes #shunichiro tachibana #shunichiro x oc #IM Shunichiro

2 notes · View notes

strawberry--sunrise · 7 years

Text

Shadow Girls

Alright, so here we go: Switching automatically from the shortest part, to the longest. But honestly, this is my favorite part. Half of it is cute and very satisfying to write, and the latter half is violent, dark, and wow, also so very satisfying to get to write. One more step until the girls come out of the woodwork, dragging the monsters out by their feet.

Part One: Roots // Part Two: Stamen // Part Three: Stem

Part Four: Pistil

I was far from diplomatic fashion, but I would have to do without my armor. I crawled over the fence, sprinting through the dewy grass. I nodded at Thomas, who lingered beneath a tree.

“Late night for a walk,” I said.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” he asked. I blinked, confused at his meaning. He saw it on my face, and smiled. “I said that I’d call for you on Monday. You mentioned that you liked evening strolls in the garden. I’m glad that our timing aligned, because if Poppy came back without you, I’d have had to knock on the door myself. And that’s not as romantic.”

“I’m…really not supposed to be out at the moment,” I confessed, scratching the side of my head. “I should get back. I just wanted to make sure Poppy was okay.”

Thomas knelt down and ruffled Poppy’s collar. “Hana? I have something I need to tell you. But I’m still nervous. It’s hard, now that you’re right in front of me.”

I stared at Thomas, watching the anxious curve of his spine. His fingers dug into Poppy’s fur in less of a playful gesture. He was scared.

People didn’t call someone to an abandoned park at midnight for flirting.

“Tell me,” I said, kneeling beside him.

“…You said you wanted me?” Thomas confirmed. “Well, it’s ironic, because I want you. I want your long, pretty hair. Your big eyes. Your figure, your grace, your bravery. I want to feel as beautiful as you look. I want to be beautiful.” Thomas blew out a breath. “I can’t kiss you again. Not until I’m honest with you. I’m not…a boy.”

My lips parted before I knew what I wanted to say. I hadn’t anticipated this kind of confession. Time ticked between us. “You’re…a girl?” I finally said. Thomas managed a small, frantic nod. “A girl. Okay.”

“Okay?” Thomas squeaked.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “It’s fine.”

“That’s–” Thomas dropped her shoulders. They were shaking. “I’m glad. It’s horrible of me to say, but I knew I could trust you. Even if you hated me; even if you told the town.”

My own words echoed back at me. “Because no one will believe a Liftgate.”

“And I figured–” Thomas shook her head, a trembling entering her voice. “This is terrible. But I know why you kissed me. Tried to butter me up. Not because you liked me–”

That part was still debatable.

“–but because you wanted to know what I knew. You’ve been sniffing me out? I’ve been looking at you, too.” Thomas laid a hand on Poppy’s head. “You think my father’s committed a crime. Your father actually has. And I think both are connected.”

That got my attention. “How so?” I asked.

“You didn’t come to school today,” Thomas said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Got myself grounded.”

“So you haven’t heard about Sophia.”

I stared at Thomas, waiting for her to go on. She rubbed the back of her neck. “She’s… she’s missing. Since Thursday. Her parents thought she was staying with friends, but when she hadn’t come home…” Thomas sighed. “Hana, I need your help.”

“With what?” I asked, barely grasping the news. It was just as we’d feared. The perpetrator had bled through the county lines.

Thomas shook her head. “We shouldn’t talk anymore about this. Not here.”

“Hell of a cliffhanger,” I said, crossing my arms. I considered my options. “You said you trusted me just now?”

“With my biggest secret? Yeah.” Thomas’ eyes grew wet, a laugh escaping her chest. “I must be near insane, but I’m relieved I told you. So yes. I do.”

“Then come with me,” I said, taking Thomas by the hand. “Send Poppy home. And one more thing. If you’re a girl, do you have a better name for me to use?”

Thomas’ eyes lit up in the darkness, face splitting into a wide smile. “Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Never,” I said, pulling her to her feet.

“Zuli,” she said. “Call me Zuli.”

“That’s a beautiful name,” I assured her, leading her down the street.

I felt the question buzzing on Zuli’s lips as we stopped outside the darkened storefront. She likely had never been to Antigone before, or even heard of it. Her family had moved counties before it was built. I pressed the doorbell, listening as it rang through to the apartment above. A light switched on, and a darkened face gave us a quick glance from the window. I gave a wave. The figure turned and, not long after, emerged from the stairs to the main floor. I watched through the windows as Ruth approached, wrapped up in a warm robe.

She opened the door, face unmade and wig off. Her painted nails rubbed at some of the stubble on her chin, looking me over. “Good evening, Hana. I trust you’re well?”

“Hello Ruth,” I said, putting on a smile. “That I am.” Zuli glanced between me and Ruth so fast, I thought she might get whiplash. Ruth leaned against the doorjamb, deciding to play with me.

“A bit of late night for you youngsters, huh?”

“I prefer to think of it as getting an early start on the morning.”

“Then I should get some coffee going, like any good host.”

Ruth turned, and I motioned Zuli to follow. We went through the shop, taking the often-locked stairwell into Ruth’s personal living space. I had been here several times, but Zuli gaped at the posters of beautiful women, and the feather boas draped across mirrors. She blushed at the artwork of men embracing and women kissing.

Ruth lit a candle, the room filling with the sweet scent of roses. I might have objected, if not for Zuli’s look of wonder. She had found Ruth’s glamorous vanity, littered with make up, jewelry, and carefully brushed wigs. I led her to the kitchen table with a gentle hand, sitting her down. Her eyes went straight to the picture of Ruth on the wall, done up in gold and silver, surrounded by laughing faces.

“Can I get you anything special?” Ruth asked, drawing Zuli’s attention. The older woman set down a bowl of sugar, and looked straight at Zuli. Realization lit her eyes. “I haven’t even asked your name! What kind of host am I? I’m so sorry little miss, you are…”

Zuli flinched, eyes wide as saucers. She looked over to me, frantic and in disbelief. I just nodded, wondering if I shouldn’t have left this as a surprise. Poor Zuli looked ready to drop.

“Zuli? I–I’m…a girl!” Zuli tried.

“Well, of course you are,” Ruth said, bringing out the pot of coffee. “Hana knows the rules. Only women at my shop. This is a safe space for us.”

I watched for Zuli’s reaction, indulgent. To my horror, she started to cry. She hiccupped and sobbed, burying her face in her hands. Ruth, undeterred, patted Zuli’s shoulder and shushed her tears.

“Now, now, that’s quite alright,” Ruth said.

I fidgeted in my seat, wondering if I shouldn’t have interfered. If I had overstepped my boundaries, again. Then Zuli raised her face and, in spite of the tears, it had the biggest expression of relief on it.

“I’m not alone?” she mumbled, hopeful.

Ruth, in a rare moment, lost her whimsical, lighthearted nature. She gripped Zuli’s arm, demeanor turning serious and grave. “Never,” she promised. “Sometimes we’re hard to find, but your sisters are always somewhere waiting for you.” Zuli cried some more at that, but Ruth returned to her smile. She glanced at her room, then back at Zuli. “Would you like me to doll you up a bit?”

I poured myself a cup of coffee as Zuli practically ran to the vanity chair.

“Now, try not to cry again. It’d be a sin to ruin your make up.” Ruth bit her lip, standing back a bit. “Better yet, let’s not jinx it.” She whipped two sheets out of her closet, draping one over the vanity, then heading to the next room. Zuli got up from her chair and glanced at me, questioning.

I kept my face straight, refusing to give away the truth. Zuli’s handsome features had been morphed into something beautiful. Her eyes, wide and black-lined, blinked long, delicate lashes. Her lips, pink and glossy, twisted and pursed, anxious. I wished I could tell her how much I admired Ruth’s hand. She had pushed Zuli’s hair back from her high forehead, revealing lovely, shadowed temples.

“You’re a tad taller than me, but we should be able to make this work,” Ruth said, re-entering the room. She drew down clothes from the top shelf of the closet, shaking out the dust.

“Everyone is a tad taller than you,” I reminded Ruth.

She shot me a look before handing Zuli a pile of gauzy garments. “No peeking, now. We’ll have you looking like a regular black widow in no time.”

Zuli shifted, hugging the fabric closer with a dreamlike gaze. Eventually she turned where Ruth directed, shutting the bathroom door.

Ruth stood beside me as Zuli went to get changed. “Are you still doing your detective work?” she asked.

“Barely,” I said, sulking. “My parents threw out all my things. They know I’ve been ghost writing to area newspapers. They don’t have the highest opinion of reporters, at the moment. And truthfully, neither do I.”

“Do they know about the Lotus Division?”

I glanced over at Ruth’s wicked smile. “Even Sophia doesn’t know I write for them, and she’s the damn editor-in-chief.”

“You play so coy,” Ruth chuckled, “but you’re more invested than anyone else.” I didn’t say anything to that. Ruth changed the subject. “And how did the search go?”

“We didn’t find anything. I don’t know if that’s good or bad,” I confessed. “But I made it back home by the skin of my teeth.” The doorknob twisted open. “I don’t think my parents would be able to handle the thought of me becoming a detective, either. They want a model wife, for a model husband.”

“Well, I would wish them the best, if they weren’t trying to gain blood from a stone.”

Ruth was in fine form today.

I opened my mouth to reply, and lost my train of thought in an instant. Zuli stepped out in a bold, purple, floral print shirt. The neckline plunged dangerously low, her hips cinched with a silver belt. Tight, shiny, pants ended in a bootcut. Ruth let out a happy sound.

“You went with the most daring! A girl after my own heart. Let’s get some jewelry on you.”

Zuli, still bashful, stepped toward Ruth as she donned bracelets on her wrists. She slipped rings over her fingers, and strung a low-hanging silver chain around her neck. Ruth grinned as she added the final touch: A well-teased, brunette wig. The curly hair went down past Zuli’s shoulders, soft and sprayed with glitter. Zuli turned to me, made of starlight and magic.

“Am I…okay?” she asked, earnest.

I swallowed, unsure what to say. “You are–certainly more than that. Much more.”

A relieved smile broke over Zuli’s face. She looked back to Ruth. “Can I see now?”

Ruth ripped the sheet off of the mirror in a flourish, knocking over a bottle of perfume. “Voila!”

Zuli gasped, then went still. In a slow movement, she raised her hand, then flinched as the girl in the mirror did the same. Her eyes misted then, remembering Ruth’s orders, set her jaw.

“That’s me?” she confirmed.

“Tried and true, 100% you,” Ruth sang, rummaging in a drawer. “And one more thing. Hana, could you grab the pink bottle next to Zuli?”

I moved without wondering why Zuli couldn’t grab it. I wanted to be closer to her.

Ruth turned, and Zuli and I blinked at a sudden flash of light. Ruth smiled as, our attention caught, she unleashed another flash.

“Pictures are important,” Ruth said, the Polaroids slipping out of the camera. “Even when the make up wears off; even when you have to go home…” Ruth held out our pictures, one for each of us. “You can always remember just how beautiful you are. You are you. And someday, things will be okay.”

Zuli choked back a sob, accepting the slowly-materializing image with a shaky hand. “So far,” she said thickly, “today has been the most okay day ever.”

I took my own photo, staring at the women, their faces and bodies gradually coming out of the inky darkness. “Thank you, Ruth,” I said.

“My pleasure,” Ruth nodded. “Now, we can’t have you all done up, and nowhere to go. Hana, your emergency club outfit is still around here?”

“You know it,” I said, as Zuli cried: “What?”

“Then put on your thigh highs, and I’ll put on my cat eyes; let’s boogie!” Ruth crowed.

In a matter of half an hour, Ruth and I were covered in glitz and hairspray. My minidress provided little protection to my bare thighs, but I hadn’t felt so free in ages. I grinned at Zuli, tucked beside me in the backseat as Ruth raced down the highway. Music blasted from the radio, Ruth screaming along, and beating on the steering wheel. My hand crept across the leather seat, lacing my fingers through Zuli’s.

She flushed, looking down at our hands. She asked me a question, but I couldn’t hear it over the music. She raised her voice, overpowering the instrumental.

“You said you’re grounded.”

I rolled my eyes, then brushed my lips against Zuli’s ear, who stiffened. “The jig is up. I’m not a good daughter. I might as well start being myself, if I can’t force myself to be anyone else.”

Zuli stared at me so long that I thought, perhaps, she hadn’t heard me. Then her grip on my hand tightened, and she pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“You’re perfect the way you are. And I still want to be like you,” she assured me.

My chest swelled at the kind words, my throat stopped up by the emotion. It felt strange to be told I was enough. I looked in Zuli’s eyes, near invisible in the darkness, wondering if I could afford to believe it once the dawn hit.

Ruth pulled up a few blocks away from the club. We walked, the night air brisk, into a short line outside a booming building. The bouncer frowned as we approached, numbing the small talk.

“Ruth,” he greeted.

“Samuel,” she replied.

“I know you,” he said, shaking his head, “but I don’t know these kids.”

“You think I would take children to such a salacious venue?” Ruth gasped.

“In a heartbeat,” Samuel said, grave. He squinted at Zuli. “Maybe I believe she’s old enough–” Zuli beamed at the pronoun. He turned his face to me. “–but ah, I’m sure I know you now.” He stuck a finger at me. “She is trouble, accordin’ to the papers.”

“Trouble is the spice of life,” Ruth said, waving her hand in the air.

“Trouble doesn’t sign my paychecks,” Samuel grumbled.

“Well, would you rather I leave her in the car, where any old Boogey Man could grab her?” Ruth shot back. Her glare grew frosty. “If you’ve been reading the papers, you know we’ve got a bad one in these streets. Can you keep that on your conscience? Or is the money good enough for a slick therapist?”

“Call her a cab,” Samuel replied.

I rummaged through the purse I kept in Ruth’s closet, while the two adults argued. A minute later, I stepped forward, taking in Samuel’s face. He wasn’t much older than me, despite his concerns. I stuck out my hand and raised my chin.

“Hana Liftgate,” I said. He stared down at my waiting gesture, a question in his eyes. “You won’t even accept an introduction?” I asked.

“What’s your game?” he replied, wary.

“Take my hand,” I said, “and why don’t I tell you?”

His large hand delicately encased mine, rough and powerful. I clutched his grip, pulling him closer and rising to my toes. I brought my free hand to cup his ear, whispering my message only to him.

“If you let me in now, I’ll be delighted to show you how much of a bad girl I am later.”

I dropped down, pressing my chest against his and squeezing his arm. I looked at him through my eyelashes, smiling, reworking the same tactic I had used on Zuli. I spoke in an exaggerated fashion, drawing his eye to my red-painted lips.

“I could use a strong fellow to fend off a Boogey Man for me. As well as do a couple of…other things.”

I rescinded my grip, passing off a small piece of paper. He glanced down at his own hand, baffled, then nodded. “I–” He cleared his throat, deepening his voice. “I guess I can make an exception, then. You’re less of a shrew than the papers called you.”

“And I’m a lot more than anything anyone can even put into print,” I promised, winking. “See you later, Sammy.”

Pink-faced, he moved to let us through. Zuli clinged to my arm in an instant, as we entered the cool, people-clogged building.

“What did you do?” Zuli asked, voice tinged with worry.

“I gave him the number of public works,” I assured her.

Ruth danced in ahead of us, all glamor and bangles, the brightest star in the galaxy. She conquered her size with platform shoes, her brash personality drawing in the room. Zuli and I watched as she laid claim to the dance floor, twirling under the silver lights like that had been put there for her. The DJ raised a hand, and that was all we saw before the crowd swallowed her up, eager to be in the presence of a space goddess.

Zuli and I danced on the fringes, singing along to the songs we knew. We moved with strangers, bumped bodies with drunk patrons, and laughed at the unfamiliar. Zuli took in all the wild, lavishly dressed people, half of them not unlike herself. For the first time, I caught confidence on her face. She shone with pride, dotted by flashing lights and swells of smoke. She stood up straight, with her shoulders back, in command of herself.

In that moment, she was everything I wanted to be.

After an hour, Zuli excused herself to grab some water from the bar. The tide of the dance floor pushed me closer to the bathrooms, were people lingered for a smoke, or a quiet place to talk. I saw a familiar face, who did a good job of blending in. I turned my gaze, wondering how long he had been following me.

Another man stood out, less done up than his counterparts, and woefully drunk. His female companion turned from him in disinterest, walking towards the heart of the club.

He shrugged off the rejection, the poor bastard, and eyed the rest of the room.

His gaze landed on me and, through the ill-placed wig and fake glasses, I recognized him.

He was on me in what felt like an instant, stinking of cologne and smoke. Whiskey spiced the air between us as he introduced himself. I didn’t listen to the fake name, my nerves singing with fear.

Woole. Governor Woole.

And through the heady excitement of the night, the beginning came rushing back.

“You think my father’s committed a crime.”

“You haven’t heard about Sophia.”

“Hana, I need your help.”

His hands roamed my body, too hot and too fast. Sweet words rolled off his tongue, even as his eyes darkened. He was too strong, pulling me away, back towards the alley exit.

I stumbled forward, face blank. My brain was screaming, but my body wasn’t moving.

Should I stay; should I be safe?

Should I go; should I look for the truth?

How far could I go? How long could I court the monsters, before they wanted me to stay?

Still caught in the tide, I watched as twin fists appeared on either side of the governor’s neck. Pulled between them was a length of silver chain. In a firm tug, the governor went tumbling back, releasing me to grab at the metal. Zuli, her face resolute, cinched the necklace she had been wearing tighter.

“Hands off,” she growled, voice higher than usual. “Get your kicks somewhere else.”

“Let go, you bitch!” the governor spat, face red and sweating.

“Promise you’ll leave my friend alone?”

“Zuli!” I shouted, finding my voice.

The chain slipped from her grasp, freeing her victim. She put her hands on her hips, watching the governor press his hand to his neck and totter away. She glared, not taking her eyes off of him until he left the building.

“Zuli!” I gasped, grabbing her arm. She looked down at me, eyes bright and smile wide. “Are you insane? What if he recognizes you?”

“He’s so drunk, he thinks he just got attacked by three queens instead of one,” Zuli laughed, breathless. The mirth faded from her face as the high wore off. “Come here.” She brought me into the bathrooms, where the lighting made it easier for her to look me over. “Did he hurt you?” she asked, gentle.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Oh Hana, what were you thinking?” she asked, taking my face in her hands. “He’s a dangerous man. I should’ve told you.”

I pressed my hand over hers. “I know what you wanted to tell me,” I said, not breaking eye contact. “And I believe you. Will you let me prove it?”

Zuli searched my face, the pulsing music muffled around us, as a certain silence stretched between the girls in the mirror.

I didn’t tell Ruth what happened. She was on her way to the car, slightly tipsy, when I turned around to talk to Samuel.

“There’s a man who’s going to leave,” I told him, “in a plaid shirt and hat. Will you tell him that I saw him, and he’s on the right track?”

Samuel cocked his head, trying to make sense of the cryptic message. “That’s all?”

I rubbed my arm, lowering my head. “There was also a guy who… I’m sorry, I wanted to come get you, but I was so scared…” I took a big breath, gathering my courage. “He tried to hurt me. Red pants, kind of overweight, thick glasses, and smoking? He was really drunk, and if it wasn’t for my friend…”

“Yeah, I know him. He’s a regular.” Samuel’s eyes were steely. “But never. Again,” he spat, voice gravelly. He laid caring eyes on me. “Are you alright now?”

“Yes,” I said, excusing myself. “Thank you.”

I skipped back to the group, a twinge of regret in my heart. Samuel deserved a good girl.

I hoped he would find her soon.

Ruth dropped me off at my house at near four in the morning. I had changed back into my night clothes on the way over, Zuli respectfully turning her head. We scrubbed and sprayed the club away the best we could, even as Zuli drew her thumb across a cheek full of glitter.

“Don’t suppose they’ll believe their daughter is simply full of stardust?” I joked.

“I would,” Zuli said, shrugging.

“Maybe full of shit,” Ruth offered from the driver’s seat. I kicked the back of it.

“Good night, everyone,” I said, standing outside the vehicle. I bowed with a flourish. “May we meet another time.”

“I’ll see your dramatic ass tomorrow after school,” Ruth said. “Zuli, you’re sleeping over. Get the door?”

Zuli waved goodbye as she pulled the door shut. I watched the pair pull away, then padded across the lawn, to the back door. I opened it with the spare key, stepping into the mudroom with all the presence of a ghost, wondering if I could get an early breakfast.

Not quick enough, I saw my father’s silhouette in the corner.

“Hello, Hana.”

His hand was on my throat before I could react, squeezing with only enough force to silence me. I dropped the act I kept for him, shock coursing through my system as the air drained from my lungs. His face didn’t break expression, voice carrying on in the same tone.

“You’re going to start acting right. You think because of this little spat I’m having with the state, you can go and be a tramp? A start up? That you can go off and undo decades of a good reputation in this town?” His free hand cracked across my cheek, pain bursting across my senses. “You are a little girl, and you have no idea what’s going on. Stop trying to nose your way in.”

“Is this,” I gasped, clawing at his wrist, “how a girl keeps her good reputation?”

He threw me to the floor, my head knocking against the wood. He kicked the section of wall next to me, seething voice filling the closed space. “A girl like you lives off of the reputation of men like me. So wisen up and start serving your greater good, or you’ll never know anything better than this.”

I coughed, propping myself up on my elbow. My hair fell in front of my face, blocking the demon in front of me. “I guess you don’t care about not leaving marks anymore.”

He grabbed me by the scalp, hauling me to my feet. “You think you’re tough?” he screamed, spit flying. He punched my torso; my chest, my gut. I brought my arms up in defense, stomping my foot over his. I swung my knee up, catching him in the groin. He dropped me and I grabbed at his belt loop. I ran through the house, to the only door with a lock on it.

He stopped just outside his study, panting and cursing under his breath. I gripped the keys I’d picked tighter in my palm, the metal threatening to cut. When he realized my deception, he hit the wood with all his weight, making the frame shake.

“You can’t stay in there forever!” he shouted. “I’ll get the damn saw!”

I didn’t say anything to that. Mostly because I hadn’t considered the possibility. I glanced at the window. I wasn’t looking forward to escaping that way twice. Especially not with what felt like bruised ribs.

I laid down while my father ranted, eventually leaving to tear things apart in the house. Vases shattered. Knick knacks broke. The dog barked, while my mother screamed back and forth with her husband. I curled up and tried to ignore them.

I passed out on the carpet, to haphazard dreams of blood and dirt. A circle of girls pressed their foreheads to the forest floor, the mud and mushrooms swallowing their heads. The moon was a disco ball, lighting up a macabre ritual. They tilted themselves up, straight up, feet pointed to the clouds. They became the trees, branches erupting from the skin of their legs and thighs. Their trunks became mold-covered and grown over as the seasons raced by. They rotted and went to ruin, forgotten by the world. But as I laid my ear against the mossy roots, I heard women whispering to each other about the sky.

Then the dream shifted. The evening fell to smoke and fire. Screaming and silver. The sky was blood, and I was covered in it. I saw a face that I knew, decomposing and being replaced by wildflowers. And I watched my mother tend the garden it created as my father loomed, his hands covered in black powder.

Lightning cracked across the sky, startling me awake.

I sat up, the bright color of fall morning in full swing disconcerting. I stood, wobbling over to my father’s desk. I used the grey key to open the locked drawer, pulling out yellowed articles with our name on it. They were dated from a the end of a golden era, shifting from when we were revered, to pitied. Then, reviled.

My brother’s face, now removed from the house, stood out: Eternally youthful; the prime target of tragedy. An angry bulletin about work safety accompanied his obituary. His body had been crushed by rocks, on a midnight shift in the mines. They were never able to recover him for a proper burial. All they had for confirmation of his identity were fading cries for help, and his frantic father, who had called the accident in.

I was at home when it happened. I stayed in the living room while my mother fled, leaving the phone off the cradle, to go hear her son’s voice once more.

The newspaper said that the mines collapsed with such a boom that it echoed, like a gunshot.

The funny thing was, in my nightmares, the gunshot always came first.

You made it to the end!!! Wild ride, huh?

See you next week!

#shadow girls #1970s #mystery #writeblr #i'm starting to consider this prep for nano #sorry about the violence in this one #there's gonna be more #can't put a gun in the room and not use it #whoops was that a spoiler?#( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

0 notes