#its always something i pick up and leave because i draw on my phone and i get frustrated sometimes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chicago-pd-is-weird · 15 days

Note

Its not a fanfic, but I was watching the 4 episode of the 4 season of Chicago pd...

There's this interrogation moment and the thing that gets In my head is the way Hank Voight said Baby, its soo sexy and warm that I can't stop blushing over the ideia of how will sound in a romantic or sexual moment...not to mention the bright smile in his face...

Just a random thought on this Rainy sunday..

I don't know if you want to check the episode soo you can understand what I write

Hank Voight x Fem!Reader Blurb

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you like this!

Hank pushed open the door to his house, sighing as he pulled his keys from the lock and set them in the dish nearby. He shut the door behind him, finding relief from the cold Chicago winters. Shrugging off his coat, he hung it on the nearby coat rack, along with his scarf. Moving a bit further into the house, he set his badge next to his keys, keeping his service weapon on his hip, just in case. He wouldn't leave anything to chance with his gun, as always. Then, he kicked off his shoes and pushed them aside.

Truthfully, it had been a hard day. They hadn't been able to track down a pedophile they'd been hunting. Typically, that meant Hank practically lived in his office, but it had been weeks and the trail had gone cold. He hated the cases he couldn't solve, and he knew his team was feeling the same way. Morale was low, so he forced everyone home for the night, including himself. He told them to rest, although he didn't plan on resting much himself. He walked into his dining room and to the liquor he had out on display, pouring himself a hefty glass of bourbon. Then, he sank down into a chair at his dining room table, settling in and pulling out his phone.

No new texts or calls.

He hummed and set the phone on the table, sitting in silence as he sipped the bourbon. He stared at the phone, contemplating what he should do. He knew if he went to bed, he would simply lie awake, so it wasn't something he wanted to do. He sat at the table, sipping the oaky sweet liquid until it was gone. Then, he got up and refilled his glass once more.

When he moved back to the table, he sat down and looked at his phone again, sipping once more before picking up the phone. He scrolled through his contacts until he got to the name he was looking for. He didn't call often, but when he did, he meant it. He needed it.

He pressed the 'call' button, then waited for the sweet voice on the other end to answer.

"Sugar, how are you?" your voice rang from the other end.

Hank hummed, giving a small, half-hearted smile. "Baby... I would be better if you came over tonight."

"Sure, I'll be over in a little while."

When you arrived, you knocked on the door. It was a soft knock, allowing him to hear without you drawing outside attention to his house. You were his dirty little secret. Even though he only called you once every few months, you were always happy to spend the night with him. Since his wife had died, he sometimes just needed a woman to take care of him.

Hank opened the door after a short moment, allowing you to step inside before closing it. He helped you take your coat off, revealing a blouse with jeans that fit you just right. You kicked off your shoes and set them neatly beside his, then stood again to look at him. You smiled softly, kissing his cheek as he pulled you into an embrace. "Hey, baby..."

You smiled. "Hi, sugar. I'm glad you called." You'd always greeted him like this. You didn't know much about Hank Voight outside of his street representation. You knew he was a cop and you'd seen him around the city once or twice. You also knew that he knew everything about you, and when he needed a favor, you'd be inclined to help him. You'd taken to calling him 'sugar' because he was always so sweet with you, sweeter than he was with anyone else you'd seen him interact with. You always expressed how happy you were that he called, considering you also knew he liked to drink when he didn't have someone beside him.

"I'm glad you came, baby." He called you baby. Of course Hank knew your real name, and you knew his, but the two of you always called each other by these pseudonyms. It was simply just a thing you did. You didn't mind. The way the word 'baby' rolled off his tongue, in his deep voice, it made you shudder. You loved the way he spoke to you and the way he held you.

When he finally let you pull back, he didn't let you go. You could tell he was already two or three drinks in, although he held himself together pretty well. He was a lot softer when he was drinking like this, trying to make the memories of the day go away. He held you softly by the waist, humming as he looked over you.

"How have you been, sugar?" You moved your hand up to his face, stroking your thumb over the apple of his cheek. Hank shrugged and leaned into your touch. He didn't answer, but you could tell he wanted to talk about it. You pushed closer to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He returned your kiss by holding you closer, tilting his head to pull you in deeper, your lips moving in sync. After a blissful moment, the two of you pulled away, looking at one another. He pressed his forehead to yours, sighing softly.

"Pedophile case," he mumbled. "Couldn't catch him."

"Aw, sugar," you whispered, wrapping your hand around to the nape of his neck, stroking at the hair there softly. "I'm sorry... Those cases are always hard..."

Hank sighed softly, closing his eyes as he leaned into your every touch. "We tried for weeks... I've barely slept. We just... We couldn't get to him. He slipped through our fingers with every victim." He sighed shakily, and you could tell he was on the verge of crying.

Your heart ached for the man who was in so much pain. Losing his wife, his son, his best friend, and so many others took a toll on him. Again, he didn't call you often, but when he did, you always knew you had to come. He was dealing with too much pain, and by the time he called you, he was desperate. You let out a soft breath, kissing him again softly, then pulling back to lead him over to the nearby couch. You sat him down, straddling his lap, holding his face in your hands. He hadn't turned on many lights, so the darkness engulfed the two of you as you leaned down, kissing his lips with a sweet, soft embrace.

As he sat with you, he pulled you even closer. He didn't want to cry, but it was coming out. He pulled away, sniffling softly, his eyes wet. You pressed your forehead to his. "It's okay to cry, sugar... It's always okay to cry." He let out a soft sob, holding you tighter by your waist and back, pressing closer to you, as close as possible. "I've got you, I'm not leaving, sugar. I'm right here."

He nodded as he moved to press his head into your shoulder and neck, still crying softly. “These weeks have been so tough… I just… wanted to save them…”

“I know, sugar, I know…”

“I wanted to take them home to their families!” He sobbed, clinging to you for life, maybe a bit too hard. You knew you would come back with some bruises tomorrow, but you didn’t truly care. It had happened before, and people teased you about getting some rough sex, but you never gave in. You never told them what actually happened.

You winced silently, but clung to him as tightly as you could as well, knowing he wanted reciprocation. When you pressed into him tighter, he let go of you a bit, probably realizing how hard he was holding you.

After a few hours, Hank calmed down to a sleep, and you moved to lay him down, laying on top of him for a while. Then, you pushed yourself up when you were sure he was asleep, grabbing a blanket and casting it over his body. You leaned down and gave him a kiss, then grabbed yourself something to eat. It was nearly 4AM now, so you made sure everything was set, including his alarm for 6:45am. You locked his door and left out the back, hoping he would call you again soon, knowing he needed it.

#x reader #chicago pd #fanfiction requests #hank voight #sargent hank voight #sergeant hank voight #chicagopd #hank voight x reader

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undercoverpena · 9 months

Text

ix. not his place. not your place.

javier peña x dea f!reader | chapter nine of nowhere to run

chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers. no use of y/n. use of a nickname. mentions of smut. feelings. angst. anxiety. ptsd. love thoughts. word count: 6.5k.

AN: sorry for the wait, I got really in my head about it all, but thank you to @yeyinde who listens to me ramble about my writing woes and also to the brilliant @guyfieriii who tells me things my brain won't let me believe.

dedication: i dont normally do dedications, but a special one to @thelightsandtheroses because her love for this has made me want to keep chipping away, even if i lost my way. thank you for being such a light.

You’d love to say that you'd been his the moment you had stood in his office.

But you hadn’t.

You fought losing yourself in his brown eyes more times than you’d like to count.

Somewhere between his face being between your thighs and you riding him, you’d been sucked in—like a moth to a flame.

You’d been able to peel back the thrown-up walls, while he’d been assessing how to take down yours. Until the two of you are both standing in rubble, staring at one another more bare than you have been in bed.

“You have to work with Don Berna?”

He’s looking at you, swiping his tongue across his teeth. Your heart falling in your chest.

“Shit…”

“Indeed.”

The house of cards is floating down, haphazardly falling, ready to land and squash those who don’t get on the right side of it. You’re never sure if he is on the right side—not because of his past, but because they’re always one step behind.

Chasing something, anything—everything.

One thing away from finishing it, from drawing a red cross over another photo.

It’s why you gnaw your lip, why your nail polish is picked off from your index, middle and thumb on the one hand, and one hand only. It’s what made you begin unravelling: the sight of your undoing evidence each time you stapled or picked up the phone.

Because… you like him.

Truly, like him. Could even, possibly, maybe love him.

And it makes you want to plead. Beg him to move closer, at least. Close the gap. Let you clutch him. So much said, without words being spoken. A soft glance, warm eyes and a kind smile—both given and returned.

“Don’t…”

But he does.

Taking soft strides to close the gap, hand reaching up to take hold of your cheek. You know he can see the fear shimmering in your eyes. It sitting in the pools that you try to blink away. Hiding your anxiety, how much you want to protest but choose not to.

You knew that was the thing with love, you could fight it, attempt to bury it, smother it in sex, whiskey and other destructive decisions, but it always cracked through. Always rose, standing in its flaming glory like a reborn phoenix.

“Javi. Please…. Please don’t….” Die. Leave me.

“Not a fucking chance.”

You let his forehead press to yours, eyes closing, managing to choke out, “Good.”

At some point along the way, before he’d gone to Cali, he had handed you a key to his place, and you had told him where your spare was.

Easy, convenient. Practical.

Those were the words you chose and the ones he leaned on. The two of you allowed them to be the reason you took the step, not because it made sense or felt right.

Doing so allowed the two of you less rigid plans when it came to meeting. It allowed you not to rush as he sat outside your place, not needing to tap his steering wheel as you flicked lights on and off, dashing across your windows. It meant you didn’t have to wait to begin showering or cooking when it was time to be at yours.

It also meant the two of you didn’t need to look in his mirror—just in case someone saw. Something he’s thankful for now, more than ever since your friends are back.

In the days before the attempt to take down Miguel, it felt right to be in your possession for many reasons. Leaving his pocket—all heavy and meaningful—and finding a home in your palm.

Because it also stood for something else.

Just in case.

The words linger, heavy and pulsing in the air. In case you need me for anything or shit hits the fan.

Both of them are things they should keep an eye on and consider. It’s in the air, how dangerously close they all were—how things were in place, yet no clear direction paving its way.

Then there was you.

You who has shared all that you have with him, but won’t answer him truthfully when he asks if you’re okay. You save that for your nightmares.

It’s another reason he handed you the key: a gesture, a promise: I’m here. So much so he hadn’t been sure how you’d react, watching you stare at it for a second before your fingers closed around it, and he felt able to breathe.

Then you’d smirked. Is this in case I need your signature, sir?

If his name hadn’t been shouted, he’d have congratulated you for it—slipped his tongue past your lips and tasted the coffee on your tongue.

Instead, he spent the evening signing his name against you. First, your neck, then your collarbone, before he wrote over and over with his tongue between your slit—carving each letter, gripping your hips, controlling them as they tried to meet him. One of his palms flat on your stomach, making you wait—

Paciencia, he whispered.

Blowing cool air over your soaked core, watching you write to wriggle, twisting yourself to meet him. Little pleas and begs leaving your lips, the same one that is more wit than honest.

It was different. The way you two fucked.

It had been for a little while, but that night it was noticeable, a shift ever present in the room—words sitting on the edge of his tongue as he captured kisses and swallowed your moans.

He missed it when your nails didn’t slide down his back; he craved the way you looked at him before you let go.

Things he hadn’t focussed on before, not with you or anyone else.

Then, there’s the morning when he wakes to find you next to him. Sometimes asleep, sometimes just waking the same as him—sleep-filled eyes washing him in beauty, warmth, and a future that feels like he could have it.

Though, Javi hadn’t expected to hear from you tonight—never mind seeing you.

Had assumed that you’d be catching up with Van Ness, the two of you have clung to one another in the office—some part of you visibly snapping back into place before him. He’d have been jealous if not for how you iced out Fiestl—a smugness sitting behind his teeth as he nodded at the three of you before faking a reason to hide in his office.

Your voice was barely a whisper when he picked up the phone, softly asking if you could come around—or whether he could come over.

Something you never ask, which is why he’s there in record time, finding your spare and sliding it in.

For saying usually, your door has a petulance for letting him in, the lock turns in with ease, greeting him with the darkness inside—all shadowed ornaments and streams of light from cars passing your window. Your curtains are limp, undrawn—not perfectly slid into their place as usual.

Nothing seems as it should be, not even how your place makes him feel. Usually, it wraps warmth around him, all hopeful—swamped with happiness. Your home feels cold and withdrawn tonight—like it’s at a loss.

The door clicks with a finality, placing the key inside the glass bowl with a chime, yet he doesn’t hear you call. Not a Javi, not a Peña.

With each heavy step he takes, he expects light to blind him—your hand over the light switch, smirk so broad that his mind automatically takes a photo of it. It never happens. His hand moves for his phone, the other motioning for his gun as he passes the open kitchen, living room and bathroom door.

His mind goes into overdrive, wondering if anything seemed out of place, if your voice had given anything away as he pauses outside the only one shut: your bedroom.

“Cariño…?”

He considers knocking, tapping knuckles against wood as a warning, as a sign when he hears silence. But he twists the metal door knob in hand instead, opening it, expecting to find emptiness—made bed, cushions placed at the head.

Javi finds none of that, removing his gun from his waistband to put on the side table—his phone following suit.

Because what he finds instead is lit by the occasional headlight and the weak stream of the streetlight. Cold ochre shimmering across balled-up sheets, used tissues and the broken mess of a person at the centre.

At first, he can’t tell if your eyes are open until a car slowly drives past—light reflecting from the walls and hitting your open irises.

He says your name uneasily, each letting falling consciously from his tongue as he moves close to the bed. Only receiving the lowest hum back from the duvet and destruction.

The mattress dips, your body unmoving still as his fingers find the string of your bedside lamp.

“I’m turning the light on—just need to see you.”

He wishes he hadn’t.

Black stains against usually manicured cheeks, tired, empty eyes staring into him—all forbidding as they wince and then land on him.

Javi knows shattered pieces typically cut skin, but his hand finds your exposed shoulder—coldness greeting him, sliding down the pads of his touch to his wrist and bones.

“Cariño.”

He says it differently, more a calling than questioning.

You blink, trying to erase your distress and pain—but it hangs all the same, like a banner, there all for him to see.

“You came…”

His chest tightens, something falling from within as he releases a feeble breath. He knew, suspected it for a while, that you weren’t okay. Not pushing, not knowing if his words could be ones that could heal you. So he said nothing, let silence do its thing between the two of you, as his thumb brushed your cheek. Wiping across spilt grief and fresh tears.

“What…”

You swallow it loud in the quiet—eyes furrowing before widening, as though hearing his words repeatedly.

He smiles, knuckles resting on your cheek, thumb stroking the edge of a smile he misses.

“Talk to me, cariño. Please?”

More fall from your eyes, sliding down like rain droplets against dry cheeks and a sorrowful stare. If he could, he’d take it all from you. Urge the ball that clogs your throat to shrink—the one that lives inside you and has gotten matted with your soul. He’d do whatever you needed him to do.

Your eyes fall from him, landing on a spot—darkness blooming over the colour as they unfocus.

“I thought once you knew, it would feel easier. The same way I thought I’d be okay with seeing him back, Chris. Thought the distance would mean I didn’t hate him, but then I saw him and…”

More fall in single file, orderly.

Something tugging at the corner of his lips, because only you would have tears that fall in unison—that march down your cheeks and cut across your misery.

“Did you know that I didn’t have a nickname before her? Luna—the moon. Said it was because I only came alive at night. The name was just for us—that name. Threatened to punch someone back in the States for using it.”

Smirking, he watches as you blink. A river, cloudy with memory, scales down your face, tracing the outer edges of your nose and hanging expertly on your cupid bow.

It catches—whatever comes next.

Clings to the back of your teeth—rots on the tip of your tongue as he continues his ministrations on your cheek. Watching, studying—waiting for a cue, a mark. A sign.

“…I don’t mind some, but there’s something about him using it that way.”

You pause, the smallest of laughs slipping from your tight lips. “I wish you could have met her. She’d like you. You think I’m witty, but she was so much better at it. Barely needed to think. Always a retort—both in English and Spanish, always ready...”

The last word hangs, syllables dancing until they run out of steam and are swallowed by silence. His knuckles pausing on your jaw, clearing his throat, finding your eyes flick up to him.

They smother him in heaviness, so much so, it almost makes him crumble. The edges of him weakening, the knot in his chest that needs to make you smile constricting, wrapping further around his oesophagus—

“She sounds wonderful,” he manages to say.

Your face scrunching, a mix of agreement and anguish fighting in battle on who should show first—should prevail.

“She was.”

It wounds him to hold your stare, for the stinging edges of your grief to dig further into his spirit. Injecting more cause into his blood, more reason to keep fighting, pushing—hunting injustice until bars surround it.

When he blinks, he’s freed. Temporarily, but enough to think. To rest his palm under your chin, keep your eyes upon him.

“You think you can let me in, cariño?”

His eyes flick down to the sheets, the duvet wrapped around you, trapped under limbs.

It takes a second, one which spreads across space for far too long, but you nod. Shuffling awkwardly so a corner emerges—one he can lift and slide in.

Your blouse is gone, but the rest of your work clothes still adorn your frame. Javi’s shirt rustles as he seeks to bring you comfort—to find a way to pull you close without forcing you to flee.

“This okay?”

It’s tinged with nerves—draping between you as he finds you still watching him.

He'd have missed your nod if you were almost shoulder to shoulder. Only catching how the edges of white teeth bite down your bottom lip. Spotting the tremble before he sees the unmissable wobble as your eyes fill until they’re shimmering with a new wave that’ll crash down and coat them.

“Cariño—“

“Lune.”

He looks at you, takes it in. The look in your eyes, the way they burn unspoken emotions into him.

“French, I know. She had to make an adjustment, claim it back before we left. She didn’t let anyone, not even Ch….him. But, I think she’d let you call it me,” you whisper, all hiccuped and difficult.

Something unlodges inside of him, a thing which is determined to rid those two words. Because he suspects you’re thanking him because you don’t get this. Usually pushed, nudged to the edge until you devastate.

He kisses your hairline instead. Feeling you curl into him, head against his chest—and then he braces for the first shake, the eruption of shudders ripple from you to him.

And he clings, clutching to root you here—to him, with him.

“Javi…”

His fingers continue sliding up and down, feeling soft skin as your breath flutters across his cheek.

“Thank… thank you for coming over.”

He smiles, spreading over his lips before he can hold it back, opening his eyes to face you. “I’ll always come, cariño.”

“Prometes?”

“Promesa, baby.”

Javi rarely dreams of the after. But he has begun to.

You’ve stayed over at his place more often as of late. Easier, you’d tried to protest, and he never complained.

The thoughts the dreams leave behind knock on him more frequently, especially when the darkness slides over the two of you, when you’ve gone quiet before soft shallow breaths fill the space in his room. It there, sitting on his tongue, wanting to ask:

What are you gonna do when it’s all over?

A question which festers and burns—eroding a hole in his mouth and the back of his brain. It throbs more when he feels you curl against him, craving some form of touch before the two of you have to rise and pretend all over again.

It’s why he likes it when you stay. When he can start the day with his palm on your cheek, lips slotted over yours. Pulling you flush against him as you whisper his name into the air—not tired of him, not even close.

Because after it’s rushed, you need to do this or do that. The pretence needing to be kept up—him rushing to get in before you, more so now your friends are back. Fingers shakily doing his tie until you spot him in his kitchen, half-dressed, barely ready for the day, and your fingers smooth over his. Helping, shifting your hips against him as you loop his tie and knot it: the definition of a multitasker.

Letting his eyes take you in, he lowers his hands to your hips. “You keep doing that, cariño, and we’ll undo your handiwork in a moment.”

He likes the way you smile around him.

How soft it is, the sharp edge you’d once purposefully wrapped it in, now gone. Faded. Vanished.

“I could fuck you with your tie on, Peña.”

Javi knows that. Almost lets you prove it. Mouth opening to find words to say—

“You have a meeting, remember.”

Gritting his teeth, jaw sliding to the side, he nods.

Your fingers drop from the fabric as something sits in your eyes—a set of words that roll around that pretty head of yours he’s yet to decipher.

“You think you’ll come here tonight?”

Javi asks, hopeful. Not wanting to assume—not even with his spare on your keychain and most of your things in his bathroom. A smug look crosses your lips, making him leave ahead of you even harder.

“I’ll be here. Prefer your water pressure than I do mine and the hands that come with it.”

He tortures himself by sitting in your lingering perfume on the commute.

Fingers tapping on the wheel, thumb and index brushing in tight circles over and over as he parks his car, trying not to think of bubbles, water dripping down, you against the tiles.

Like most mornings, he notes how dull the place is when you’re not around before he picks up the metaphorical weights he carries. The ones stuffed with expectations, getting it done—passing the board with the photos he can see when he blinks.

Each minute until you arrive, the weight digs in. In the same way, it did before the night, he took you back—only being removed from his shoulders by your fingers and yours alone.

It’s the relief you provide that makes him flick his eyes up as he hears someone arrive, casting a glance through the blinds—all on edge until he sees you. Until he knows you’re safe—something prickling, pecking at him that you’re not.

It’s worsened since you told him everything. Since he saw you in the centre of your bed, all broken and at a loss. A part of him was angry with himself that he hadn't tried to take the weight from your shoulders, hadn’t noticed how close you had woven yourself, how unspooled you’d become.

Worst of all, Javi wonders if there’s still a target on your back. Your face stuck up on some wall like the Godfathers are stuck on theirs, a thought easier to silence when you’re in sight.

He knows it’s because he cares, feels things. It creeps into his chest, unwrapping, unfurling—spreading its vines until they loop around his muscles and bones. Making him feel so much it burns a hole in his tongue, in his heart—

“Morning,” you say, file in hand.

His eyes lifting from the paper, watching you smile—body relaxing.

Your words linger in the air, all innocent, airy as though you hadn’t said it to him already two hours ago. Fingers in his hair, nails scraping along his jaw as he rocked his hips into you, filling the air with breathy mornings and right there.

He smirks, taking the file from you as you step into his office, beginning your usual morning rundown of his day, who has left messages, and what he hasn't done that needs handling.

It’s not until you begin talking about having a meeting yourself, that he forces his head to look up from the file, does he take you in. Eyes dropping down your frame, not able to help himself, until—

“—so I have to go—“

“Is that my shirt?”

You pause, words dying on your tongue before you softly begin to smile. “How would I be wearing your shirt, sir?”

“Are you wearing my shirt, cariño?”

Folding your arms, you shift your weight on the spot. His eyes scan behind you, spotting and noting that no one is within ear reach. Working out the probability of whether he has time to hook his finger in one of the belt loops of your trousers, pull you to him, shut the blinds and kiss you until your lips are swollen before duty calls.

“If I were wearing your shirt, it would be because I ran out of time this morning to iron my shirt because someone needed assistance with their tie. So if this was yours, it’s merely being borrowed.”

He swallows—something stirring inside of him.

Because you’re wearing him, here. Out in the open, around their colleagues. He’d be able to look out of his window and see you dressed in him, marked in him.

You’ve buttoned half of it, tucked it into the band of your trousers. His fingers want to trace the vest underneath the open buttons—take you in for a second, admire the way it’s styled so it looks less like him, and more like something new you’re trying with a pair of your trousers and heels.

Your confidence falters; he watches it—how it wrinkles out over your face. “Wait…Javi, do you mind?”

“Fuck no,” he says, more gruff. “Not one fucking bit. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

He shifts his jaw, staring at you, tracing his eyes up and down your body—knowing how each curve feels, how your skin tastes. “I’m not going to be able to fucking concentrate.”

“Wh… Javier Peña, do you like women wearing your clothes?”

“Not women. You.”

You pull a face, smirking. “Well, that’s good to know.” His brow arches, watching something glimmer in your eyes. “Because you have quite an impressive shirt collection, and guess what I like?”

Tracing his bottom lip with his thumb, he tries to stop himself from tracing his eyes up and down you. Hearing people come in, the office slowly springs to life behind you.

“What’s that, cariño?”

You lean forward, allowing you to drop your voice. “Knowing to take it back, you’ll have to take it off of me—once I get to yours, tonight, that is,” you whisper, soft and breathy, a hint of silk to each of your words as they slide into his ears. “Have a good day, sir.”

Failure was something he was being served more and more frequently.

This time, it was dealt to him when he’d allowed a part of himself to relax—to feel like they were close to a win—having gone from panicked to relieved when he felt Jurado’s wife against him.

Her all curled up, trembling. The scent of mud, sweat and something he assumed had once been perfume rotted into his nose as the jungle faded from view.

It’s why he allowed her the comfort she so desperately needed, giving himself the chance to feel the joy that he had managed to fix the mess he’d caused by not thinking of every single option.

Then, like grey clouds holding back her storm, there was a clap of thunder—Christina's eyes were then full of sorrow and fury, digging into him as though they were made of knives. Yet, it had been her words that did the slicing.

It hadn’t meant a damn thing, not accounting for a single thing. All of it, from listening in on her and Jurado to now, a giant waste of fucking time. The phone call confirmed it.

He was dead. All that chasing, the jungle—

Javi had intended to cool down before he headed back to the office. It had all boiled inside of him, unable to think straight, that was until his eyes landed on you.

Finding you at your usual spot, bent over, the low light making you squint. Your head lifts to glance at your screen before back down to the files on your desk, fingers rubbing at that spot on the side of your forehead—your tick, your tell.

Then you lean back, hand brushing over your face before landing your eyes on him. At first, he watches you relax, relief flooding your expression—likely due to the fact that he’s safe. You'd been forthcoming with how much you'd been worrying.

Then, a smile. One that is quickly swallowed by concern. It amazes him how quick and astute you are—lifting yourself, grabbing something without taking your eyes off him as he approaches, nodding to Stoddard as you clear your throat.

“Could—can I talk to you about a lead?”

He nods, swallowing. He gestures for you to lead the way as he follows you into his office. It isn’t until the door closes, wrapping his arm across himself and playing with his other elbow, does he see you throw the file on the desk.

“There’s no lead. I just… you looked like you needed to talk.”

It's instant, the way he softens. Looking down, letting himself feel the calming wave you cast over him without knowing you even do it.

The airport. The jungle. The call.

He’s not even sure where to begin.

“She thinks I’m a piece of shit. That’s… that’s what she called me.”

Slowly, you move to the mini-table-turned-bar as you pour a glass—one for you, one for him.

“And maybe, I am…” You extend the glass, his hand taking it as he nods, running his thumb over the top. “I mean, I get tunnel vision—and I just have to….”

He sighs, feeling you watching him, before it all comes out.

From the moment they reached the jungle to the airport. Your eyes not leaving him, likely seeing how easy it is for him to undo—how he’s coming apart, crumbling, pieces of him snapping off. The words keep coming and coming, the stress releasing a hold on his chest but doubling on his shoulders simultaneously.

It isn’t until he’s done, your silence, thick and loaded, does he even feel he needs to ask:

“Y'agree with her?”

He has to ask, watching as you undo the thought.

Studying your expression as he coats his tongue and lips in deep amber and misery. He used to drink to celebrate. Somewhere between Colombian takedowns and Escobar, it began as a way to stop himself thinking. Now, he’s unsure if it calms him, deafens things or just numbs him—or better, a concoction of the two.

You lean against the wall, wrestling with your thoughts. He can see it—the thin line that appears between your brow and the way your fingers dance along the crystal glass.

“I can… see why she’d think you were one.”

He takes a large sip, raising his brow. “Well... fuck, thanks.”

“You don’t—this doesn't work because I lie to you. We work because I’m great at feeding that self-deprecation you’re carrying around.”

He smirks, snorting into the glass as he watches you take your first sip. Not hissing or scrunching—sipping it like it’s water. Suspiciously so.

He hears you step forward, closing the gap, placing your hand on his shoulder, nudging him to turn entirely towards you. “You’re a good person. The only time you’re a piece of shit is when you don’t do that thing with your tongue to me. She's hurt, Javi. Understandably, so.”

He smiles, and you brush the sides of it with your thumb.

Because he knows he’s experienced in non-committal fucking. Well-versed, almost excelling at it, until you. You who he wants the opinion of, the person who makes his world splinter and crack in the best way—more so when you dig your nails in, and he paints your walls in ropes of white. You are different.

He's thought it since the beginning, when you barged in, all confident and smug. Now, it’s so much harder to ignore, to bury—to smother in other problems and issues.

All of the realisation snapping inside of him, the walls he’s built coming down with ease, as your palm remains on his cheek—all intimate and full of care.

“Starting to think you like me.”

“Get rid of that thought, sir. I merely tolerate you.”

“Liar.”

You blink, dropping your hand.

Holding your eyes steady, Javi lets the seconds add up, sliding into a minute. The air tightens with understanding as it rises like a slow tide threatening to pull you both under and drown you. Realisation twists and gnaws in your chest, not able to blink, not able to turn.

He sighs, knowing it too. Releasing you, watching your head tilt before you roll your eyes, and then you’re moving to close the blinds—the office slowly fading from view before you approach the last turning so all he can see is you.

You who is looking at him with a mixed expression he hasn’t got the energy to decipher. Thoughts, suspicions, all rolling around his head, mixing horribly with the expression of Christina Jurado staring at him as he ended that call.

“You do matter to me.”

“Tell me you like me, baby,” he says, likely knowing that you're struggling for breath.

Him doing the unspeakable—making a move, so off the board, he’s confirming neither of you is playing. Likely haven’t been for weeks. The signs were all there if you really looked, really focused on it.

You smirk, shaking your head as you step back. “I like you, you know I do.”

Hand slowly spinning the glass in your hand as you sink into the chair opposite his desk. Eyes staring into it, the amber sloshing from side to side.

“I just…”

“Cariño…” your eyes look up, meeting him. “It’s different for me too.”

You nod, biting the inside of your mouth as you rest your head on your palm—elbow digging into the arm of the chair.

“What now?”

“What do you mean?”

You scoff. “Well, do we stop?”

“Do you want to stop?”

“I want you to answer a goddamn question without asking another question. Because this is humiliating as it is.”

“Having feelings for me that bad, huh?”

You smile, barely—but he notices it. “No. But, I—I’m not good at it—being with someone. Being in a relationship. I'll fuck up. I’m broken and…. without even fucking meaning to I'll—”

Sighing, he swallows. “Bonita… I don’t care.” His hand grips your cheek, tilting your eyes up to him. “I’m no good either. You deserve—fuck, you deserve far better than me, but I’m selfish, a piece of shit. So, I can’t let you go, so let's just call this what it is.”

“You don’t know—“

“I do, cariño. I do.”

Your eyes fill with tears, staring at him, unsure if you’re going to agree or push him away. That is, until your hand comes over his wrist, holding him—just like you usually do.

Then, you turn him, so his frame hides you. Your lips press to his, kissing him as though you didn’t care. The two of you are now experts with both your tongues than words—able to articulate full-blown sentences with your mouths pressed against each other.

Now, you're in his arms after all the sheer determination—after doing nothing but fighting him. The low light from the lamp casts a soft glow over you both, offering comfort, hiding how everything else around the two of you is burning.

“I hate how good your cock is.”

He laughs, pressing his forehead against yours. “Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem.”

Strumming his fingers up and down your side, he smiles against the top of your hair. Letting the moment settle, the confessions being filed in a happy place in his mind.

“Are you okay?”

“Now?” he asks, fingers toying with your hip. “I’m better.”

For a moment, he just watches—takes you in.

It goes back to the night in the bar when half of your face had been shrouded in mystery, and the two of you had gotten off on the wrong foot. If Murphy were here, he’d say it was typical Peña—somehow managing to fuck the woman who hates him.

But then, you’d never really hated him, just like he hadn’t really ever found you difficult.

“Let's sit,” you say, joining him on the sofa, the leather creaking under you.

The silence is an odd comfort—so used to cracking under quiet, yet with you, he settles.

No one to disturb it, the peace. No one was ringing or asking for him.

Even the office outside has gone quiet.

That one thought, which has been hammering and hammering, rises—bubbling at the top of the sea of shit he has to undo, answer for and deal with.

“If you weren’t doing this, what would you be doing?”

It’s likely too deep for such a day. Knowing he should take the win that the two of you have agreed to be something more concrete than convenient fucking, but it falls from his tongue quicker than he can say I’m okay or let’s go.

You think, eyes sliding to the corner as an array of expressions flash across your face. A frown to a relaxed smile, a shift of your lips to a soft sigh.

“Not sure. Maybe run a coffee shop? A cafe. Want it to be a local place, lots of gossip.”

Watching you lick your lips, he lets himself take you in. A mental photo snapped, locked away in the vault he’s drafted just for you.

“One of those places where either the coffee is good, but the cakes are bad, or the cakes are good, but the coffee is bad. Because I’m one person, y’know? I’m not fucking superwoman.”

His fingers tease the edges of yours—wanting to keep you here, in this moment. Not step back out into the sound of phone calls and typing.

“There would be this will-they-won’t-they with a local guy. He’d come in, and everyone would study our interactions and gossip about how long he stood at the counter.”

Smirking, you turn your head, confronting him with a wicked smile—a sight that makes his heart beat.

“What about you?”

Shrugging, he laces his fingers in yours. “Probably be on the ranch. With my dad. Helping. Do the good son thing, for a bit at least.”

“Well, you can only do the good son thing if you’re good.”

Nudging you with his knee, he shakes his head. “Hey. I’m a fine, good rancher.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He sneers. “Come see it, baby. I’ll show you all my moves.”

You smile, and like this—after today—it’s something more stunning than he can find the words for. Not sure he’d ever be able to describe it, what it does to him—how it feels like an arrow has been shot into his chest, inflating his heart, making it grow twice as big.

Licking his lips, he smiles wider—almost allowing it to spread to his eyes. “You open your cafe in my town. We’d be the talk of it.”

“Because you already tried the buns.”

“First thing I’d talk up.”

You laugh. Sweet and weightless. It flushes through him, easing the stress from his muscles. Basking in it, the momentary pause on the job, the mission—the reason.

“I’d make sure a Catrina or a Mary would have overheard me telling people you’re good with a whip. Let them gossip.”

“Oh, there’s actually three Marys, and I’m sure there’s at least two Catrinas.”

Shrugging, you wink. “See, I’m fitting in already.”

“Texas would love you.”

“Texas would be quaking in its cowboy boots.”

“That too.”

The two of you go silent.

All comfortable and nice. No thoughts rushing through him, no darkness ebbing in the corners—it’s like it is in the mornings. Where he can pretend the world outside isn’t Colombia but Texas. That his responsibilities are to make you smile and make sure a cow doesn’t crush his pop.

You tap your fingers over his. “You okay?”

“I don’t even fucking know.”

“It’s okay if you’re not.”

Turning his head, he meets your eyes, a little smile so effortlessly falling over your face. “I know.”

He moves, shifting so he’s closer, and you subconsciously move closer, letting your head find his shoulder as you take a deeper breath.

“We could. I could.”

You slowly look up at him, watching him stare off before glancing down.

“It's not a lot, but you could make lemonade, and I could help my Pops do ranch shit. Live out our days in the field and between one another’s thighs.”

“You’d get bored…”

“Of you?” he asks, shaking his head. “Never. I’m never tired of you, not even when you’re frustrating and annoying.”

“You crave danger, Peña.”

He moves you closer, wrapping his arm around you to pin you close, dropping his mouth to your ear. “Guess we’ll have to begin fucking outdoors, see how far we go until we’re arrested for public indecency.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

His hand slides up your forearm, spreading warmth back through you.

“Think about it, cariño. Yeah?”��

You swallow, nodding. “Would you wear a cowboy hat?”

He laughs, rich, light. “For you? Yeah.”

“Alright, I’ll think about it, sir.”

It’s you who interlocks your fingers with his, squeezing—like a version of a signature on a contract.

“I didn’t ask. How’s your day been?”

You snort, not moving—not even to look up or find his eyes, thumb sliding over his hand. “Why?”

“You always hiss when you first have a sip of whiskey. You didn’t earlier.”

Then you move—eyes finding his, something in them he can’t read—a look he can’t place. Your own moving from one eye to the other as you swallow.

“I may have helped myself to a glass… or two.”

Placing his fingers under your chin, he lifts your face. “Talk to me.”

“Just a bad day, that’s all.”

“Cariño.”

Rolling your lips, you sigh. “Can we just go home?”

Nodding, he drops his hand from his nose, taking the glance balancing precariously on his knee as he drains it. It’s only when he feels the loss of you, hearing you mumble about getting your coat—and your bag, that you need to nip to a store on the way—does it come back to him.

Home.

You’d said home.

Not his place. Not your place.

His teeth bite down on the inside of his cheek, the softest twitch of his lips. One, that on another day, where it hadn’t felt like a complete fuck up, he suspects would be a smile, a real one.

Fingers tap on your desk—hands you used to know, once upon a time. Lifting your chin, you stare at him. Chris.

His face was all a mixture of annoyance and pleading, a sight you suspected didn’t mean good things for you.

“You thought about it? Helping me.”

Your fingers pause on the keys. “If it involves me leaving this building, there best be a good reason you’ve even brought this to me. The shit I could get into—”

“I wouldn’t ask.”

You tilt your head. “Yes, you would.”

“It’s for Van Ness, too.”

Narrowing your eyes, you slowly stand. “We need a meeting room or a quiet space. I need—I need what you have. Photo, information.”

Chris nods, furiously so. “So, you in?”

Your head turns, glancing at the empty office—the one you’ve been staring at the entire time he’s been out of it. “I’m in for the debrief. That’s all I’m committing to for now.”

AN: hope it was worth it!

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foern · 5 months

Text

After Hours

Hanma Shuji x f!reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Hanma being an asshole, slightly suggestive, some kissing

A/N: This is a WIP I've had in my drafts for like two months, but at least i wrote something (writers block sucks)!

My phone has been going off non-stop for the past fifteen minutes, and the cause is one man: Hanma Shuji. I told him I wouldn’t be checking my phone much, if at all, tonight because I needed to do some much-needed catching up on my homework. However, Hanma seems to have some other plans for tonight; to annoy the fuck out of me. With a huff, I begrudgingly pick up my phone.

“What do you want, Shuji?” I glance over to the clock, it’s only seven. My night of peaceful study has just begun and he’s already found a way to ruin it.

“Geez, doll. Why do you always assume I want something?” he said. Over the phone I could make out the noise of him taking a deep breath, most likely one full of nicotine.

“That’s ‘cause you always do,” I say. “Why’d you call? I specifically recall telling you to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Mmm, I don’t recall that actually. But now that I think of it, I do need something. Just a small favor.” I let out a long sigh at his words; he does always want something. Momentarily, I think about hanging up the phone. However, there is always that nagging voice in the back of my mind telling me it might be something important. Whenever he calls or texts me I always jump to the worst conclusion: he’s badly injured or he’s on the brink of death. I ultimately decide not to hang up, the decision I have made countless times before. He better not make me regret my decision.

“What is it?” The anger in my voice is slipping away the longer I talk with him. For whatever reason, I can never stay mad at him for long. Which is good for him, but bad for me. Although the anger is gone, annoyance still is very much present.

“Jus’ want you to open your window, that’s all.”

“What, why?” I ask, puzzled. I stand up from my desk and make the short trip over to my window. My hands ghost over the thick, black curtains, borderline pulling them back and making his wish a reality.

“Hurry up and just do it, doll. It’s freezing out here.” The realization of what he wants kindles a fire in my stomach, one of anxiety and anticipation.

“Shuji, no. My parents are home. No way in hell I’m gonna let you in.” Now that I know his intentions, and that it’s not an emergency, I think about hanging up. My homework is more important than whatever games Hanma is trying to play right now.

“Ok, how ‘bout this. Open the window, or I’ll break it. Deal?” He states those words with utter confidence, telling me he’s not playing around.

“You wouldn’t, you’re bluffing.” I know he would, he’s Hanma. But maybe, just maybe he won’t be an asshole for once.

“You wanna test that theory out, doll?” Fuck no I don’t. I draw back my curtains in one big swoop. On the other side of my dimly lit lawn is Hanma standing there staring at me, rock in hand. His eyes flicker downward, towards the lock on the window. His gaze signaling me to unlock it. Hesitantly, I take a step back. My parents will kill me if they find out I’m letting a boy, no not a boy, a criminal into our house. His eyebrows raise as if daring me to take another step away. Fuck, I don’t want to step in broken glass.

The cool winter air blowing into my room causes me to shiver. I watch as Hanma manipulates his long, lanky limbs through the window and into my room. Just as he’s pulling his final foot through the window, I turn around to walk back to my desk. Maybe if I ignore him he’ll get bored and leave.

“If you’re gonna break into my house, at least be quiet. I don’t want my parents to wake up,” I say, then after a moment of contemplation, I add, “Plus, I gotta study.” When he doesn't respond, I take that as an acknowledgment of my asking him to be quiet. In the corner of my eye I can see him flop down onto my bed dramatically; a small smile threatens its way onto my face, but I fight it back. Instead of addressing him, I turn back to my homework and resume my homework-athon. A few minutes pass and I almost forget about the 6’4” giant on my bed.

Almost.

As I’m halfway done writing down yet another equation, I hear the soft squeak of my bed frame and then the not so soft footsteps of the man behind me. Curiously, my head slowly turns toward the suspicious noise. However, I’m too late. The force of my chair tipping backwards so suddenly causes a small yelp to escape my mouth. My hands fly to the side of the chair to support my imminent fall.

“Holy shit, Shuji!” I whisper-scream in shock, “Put me down!” Hanma being the asshole he is, crept up behind me and tipped my chair backwards so it was only standing on two legs.

He leans forward, his lips increasingly closer and closer to my ear until I can feel his hot, nicotine smelling breath on my neck. Slowly and tauntingly, he whispers, “We’re supposed to be quiet, yeah?” My cheeks flush with embarrassment and anger. I hate how the close proximity between the two of us makes the butterflies in my stomach act up.

Suddenly, I remember my anger towards him. I swiftly turn around to half-way face him, almost falling out of my chair in the process. Now that I’m facing him I am able to see his face. His eyes are lit up with excitement and pure amusement, his lips drawn into a haughty smile. “Hanma. Shuji. Put. Me. Down.” My words seem to affect him, but not in the way I intended it. His smile is now from ear to ear, almost like the Cheshire cat. All he says is, “Be careful what you wish for.”

Not so gently, or quietly, he lets go of my chair. I fall forward forcefully and swiftly, it’s a miracle my parents don’t wake from the noise of my chair slamming to the ground.

My eyes go wide in shock, if my parents weren’t asleep right now I would be berating him right at this moment. My fists ball up in anger, and just as I’m about to turn around and unleash it, I feel his hands slide smoothly onto my hips.

“You seem stressed.” He casually mentions. His big hands hold my hips for a moment before sliding even further around me, until he is hugging me from behind. He rests his head on my shoulder, an action which I wouldn’t have minded if I wasn’t just about to scream at him.

“Of course I’m stressed! You almost just killed me!” I fumed. My body jerks, attempting to escape his grasp, but he tightens it, rendering me unable to break free. The tightness of his grip makes me think over my next words carefully. Angering him further will not help me in this situation. I take a deep breath before choosing my next words.

“I’m behind on my homework and I have a big test tomorrow in Algebra. I really need to get my work done, which you are distracting me from.”

He hums in agreement, “I have just the thing to relieve your stress.” The grip he has on me loosens, making my heart skip a beat; I don’t want him to stop touching me. Instead of stepping away like I expect him to, his hands move to the hem of my shirt, almost fidgeting with it. His head turns to my neck, and I can feel his hot breath on my neck. My breath hitches as I close my eyes, allowing my mind to wander to all the dirty thoughts I have been secretly thinking about my friend.

His soft lips begin to pepper small, slow kisses on my neck. His hands slowly trailing upwards towards my breasts. My head falls back onto his shoulder in pleasure, it’s almost embarrassing how little he can touch me, yet I still get an immense amount of pleasure. He cups my breasts with his hands, slowly and sensually massaging them. I let out a small groan of pleasure as the small kisses morph into longer, more intense hickies.

The creaking of a floorboard alerts me to my parents’ awakening. Shit. I hastily push Hanma towards the window with a just as hasty goodbye. As he disappears into the night, my heart races. Not just from the close call with my parents, but also from the lingering tension between us. The consequences this night may have had on our friendship weigh heavy on my mind as I try to regain attention on my homework.

#tokyo revengers #hanma shuji #tokyo rev x reader #hanma shuji x reader #kissing #tokrev #shuji hanma #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo rev headcanons #tr imagines

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ex-textura · 3 months

Note

Your post about your OCs quest names got me thinking...

If they were companions what would be their likes and dislikes, how would a player gain their approval? 💜

Okay I know I've been holding onto this for So Long but I've been Thinking™️ and that's not my forté.

Wall of text incoming because I've been writing this on my phone and. Formatting is a lot of work..

× Auric's approval would be difficult for a chaotic aligned character to get I think. He'd approve of kindness, following the rules, defending the weak. He'd love saving Mirkon and Arabella. He'd disapprove of taking the idol for Mol though. He'd probably also approve of you drinking Jaheira's truth wine. If you could recruit his sister, he'd approve of every kind action toward her, but he'd disapprove of flirting with her. Also letting Astarion bite you. He never could trust him. Also talking to him about music or poetry would get huge approval boosts. He's a big romantic.

× Naught's approval is a bit more all over the place and probably harder to get in general just because they don't really feel very strongly about anything until later in the game. But being kind to animals is a big approval, while doing the opposite is gonna make him hate you. Especially with birds. They'd approve of being outwardly flirtatious and forward with your intentions. They'd definitely approve of licking the damn spider. And throwing dung at the goblin outside the camp. Also, even though they can't read and aren't really inclined to, taking any opportunity to show off your smarts, teach him something new would be like a full +10. They like nerds. If you can be snarky with Nine-Fingers Keen, too, he'd approve of that.

× Ciaran approves of being nice. Helping the helpless. Saving people. All the big heroics. Play music with Alfira. Motivate the tiefling kids. Tell him you trust him.Do Not Do Not do the murder tribunal. Don't let Shadowheart kill Nightsong. Don't let Astarion ascend. Under no circumstances side with the goblins or he'll just leave. Generally everything Astarion dislikes in act 1 will be a Ciaran approval. He'd also approve of petting every single animal in the entire game. All of them. They're so soft please pet the babies.

× Jinx. Likes. Chaos. Steal the idol, why not. Throw some dung around. Play music with Alfira. Tease Mattis with the ring trick. Drink the truth wine and play truth or dare. Let the weird ox do its thing. Send him up on stage at the circus. Mess with Akabi and cheat at the wheel game. Pet the animals. Lick the spider. Get sent to jail. Break out of jail. Let Volo pick your brain. Any opportunity to say something weird or off-putting will probably get an approval, if only cause he'd think it's funny. But also talking about magic, poking at magic, anything that involves appreciating the gift that is magic - for good or ill. Jinx is also kind so not necessarily self-sacrificing acts of kindness but helping people, doing the right thing, general Good Boy approvals. Disapprovals are less common but outright cruelty is generally where he draws the line.

× Amaris approves of knowledge, and follows the tenets of their goddess. Read the book of dead gods, the necromancy of thay (sure it's evil but think of the knowledge contained within!), anything you can get your hands on. Open the chest at the Selûne shrine in the owlbear cave. Protect Isobel. Let Astarion feed on you (vampires may be undead but they are still children of Selûne's light and deserve protection if they seek it, and do no harm. And Astarion is trying okay? Kinda. It's enough.) Ask questions always, exhaust that dialogue tree! Agree to save the tieflings and the gnomes over and over again. And Barcus. Do Not let Shadowheart kill the Nightsong. Do not convince the nurses and Malus to kill themselves, do that with your own hands. Don't try to convince them to use the tadpoles. Don't speak ill of the gods. Except Shar. Speaking against Shar will always net big approvals. And again, the usual "Karlach/Wyll/Gale approves" from helping people apply to them as well. Let them talk about Selûne, and home, and their best friend Morridah. Take them to Sorcerous Sundries. Be a little kinky.

#im sorry i took so long to answer this!#there are so many good opportunities for approval/disapproval in this game I've definitely missed some #but hopefully this gives the gist of it #all these boys are fundamentally good because im too soft #bg3 #my ocs #oc: auric #ciaran finch #oc: jinx #oc: amaris #oc: naught #asks

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thisismysecondrodeo · 1 year

Text

Men of Mystery

AN: Based on this drawing because wow if that’s not the setup for two mysterious men hooking up in the backseat of an old car I don’t know what is. Shout out to @broadwayfreak5357 and @theoriginalvelocipastor for encouraging this BeardTrent lol

Tags: Coach Beard/Trent Crimm, Queer!Coach Beard, Gay!Trent Crimm, Brief Non-speaking Appearance by Colin, Men Kissing!!!, Coach Beard's first name is Eugene because its the first thing I thought of

Fic masterlist

Of all the people Trent might see walk out of the AFC Richmond training room after he’d locked his keys in his car, Beard wasn’t the worst option. Especially because he knew Beard wasn’t the type to implicate himself in anyone’s business.

Beard, on the other hand, was relieved that the tense, long-haired beauty in the parking lot was just Trent Crimm, Independent, and not Jane. He’d finally gotten the courage to end things and she had taken it about as well as he’d expected which meant he was constantly checking around corners and muting his phone. He planned to just leave Trent to his business but when he locked eyes with the man in the blazer he could read the embarrassment from a distance and he knew something was up.

“Mr. Crimm,” Beard greeted with a nod.

Trent sighed as he answered. “Hello, Coach Beard.”

Silence fell between the men. Trent didn’t want to ask for help, but he also didn’t want to call his father to come to bail him out, or worse, run into Rebecca after Beard. Beard could tell Trent wanted to say something, so he waited him out.

“I, ah, well… how was training?”

Beard smirked. “Trent.” And there was something in the way that the coach used Trent’s first name that brought heat to his cheeks. This man could see right through him somehow, and as much as Trent wanted to be resentful about it, he couldn’t help but be intrigued. Coach Beard was a challenge, and hadn’t he just told Ted he was looking for something…deeper?

“Ah, it's off the record. I am no longer a journalist. I actually was just here to tell Ted that and now I’m…stuck.”

“Stuck,” Beard repeated, looking between Trent and his car.

“I locked my keys inside,” Trent explained sheepishly and Beard smirked, immediately swinging his backpack off and rifling through it quickly, taking a knee on the concrete by the driver’s side door. He seemed like he was on a mission so Trent didn’t ask what he was looking for, just watched the muscles in his back ripple under his short sleeve polo as he moved around.

“Aha,” Beard said under his breath, holding up a pointed piece of metal that glistened in the sun. He immediately inserted the tool into the lock of the door.

“You’re picking the lock? How long will that—”

Before Trent could finish the sentence, Beard popped the lock audibly and looked up at the other man with a shit-eating grin. “Done.”

“How in the bloody hell did you learn to do that?” Trent couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice but Beard was pleased that it was more admiration than judgment. The truth was Beard had a bit of a checkered past, one that he always thought journalists might delve into at some point. But even after Trent’s article about Ted, he had a feeling Trent wouldn’t hold him against it.

“Well now, Trent, I’ve picked up a few things over the years,” Beard picked up his backpack and swung it back onto his shoulder as he stood before he reached for the door handle and opened the driver's door. The gesture brought the two men chest to chest, close enough that Beard could smell the citrus of Trent’s shampoo and Trent could make out flecks of green in Beard’s mostly brown eyes.

Trent inhaled deeply, “I have so many questions.”

“I have significantly fewer answers,” Beard teased.

Behind them, the door to the AFC Richmond training room swung open and Beard took a quick step back, despite the fact that the illegal thing he was doing was already done. It was Colin, making his way to his Lamborghini, and Beard and Trent both gave him quick, self-conscious waves.

“Well,” Trent said when Colin had pulled haphazardly onto the roadway, “maybe I could ask them anyway over a pint?”

Beard tugged his phone out of his pocket to see 10 missed calls from Jane. He quickly returned the device to his khakis and gave Trent a small smile. “Sure, why not?”

Beard expected Trent to take him to the Crown & Anchor but he appreciated the drive a little further out of the neighborhood. Trent’s car was in pristine condition and Beard expected nothing less but he didn’t poke around the way Trent would have. Trent turned the radio up and hummed along to something from the 80s that must have missed Kansas because Beard didn’t recognize it. Trent parked along the curb and gestured with a nod at a pub a few spaces down with a green door and Beard headed that way.

Pints in hand the two men looked at each other, evenly matched in their considering gaze. Trent took a sip of his beer and Beard smirked.

“You’re not really a beer guy are you,” Beard asked.

Trent sputtered a chuckle around his own sip, “I thought I was asking the questions.”

“That was more of an observation, but go on, hit me.”

“How’d you learn how to pick locks?”

“A lack of supervision in my youth. And a desire to go real far, real fast.” Beard braced himself for Trent’s recoil, but Trent just nodded as if it was what he expected or at least that he understood the kind of upbringing Beard was talking about. Beard appreciated that he didn’t press.

“Real far indeed. You know Ted has been the fish out of water, but you… You seemed to have settled in much more nicely. How are you finding it after two years?”

Trent watched a flicker of emotion cross Beard’s face, watched the somewhat nervous way he tugged at the bill of his hat. “You know I’ve followed Ted a lot of places. He’s been good to me, we’ve been good to each other. But I think…no matter what happens Richmond is my landing spot. And I’ve been looking for a landing spot for a long time.”

“Mmm, since you still went by Eugene I imagine,” Trent met Beard’s eyes, a mischievous smirk. Beard’s jaw dropped in an exaggerated gasp.

“I’m sorry, did you wait until a vulnerable moment to just slide in that you’ve known my name this whole time,” Beard exclaimed and Trent was suddenly bashful.

“Sorry, bit of a dick move. The journalist runs deep,” Trent responded, his eyes on the table. Beard slid his hand across the table, a hair’s breadth from Trent’s, and tapped twice so that Trent looked up.

“I’m fucking with you. It’s fine, Trent. Not a big secret,” Trent blushed but laughed at himself along with Beard. “I didn’t think you’d be so easy to fuck with.”

A charged silence descended between them before Trent responded, “Oh, you’d be surprised.”

It only took two more pints for Trent to tell the story of his first boyfriend taking him to a concert and abandoning him in the crowd to make out with one of the openers in the bathroom. One more after that for Beard to tell him about the last time he’d shaved his face, which was more than 20 years ago to perform in a drag show.

And it took half of the last pint for Beard to work up the nerve to ask Trent if he’d like to get out of there…together. Trent grinned, half eager and half apologetic.

“As much as I absolutely want to take you up on that, I have to get my daughter from my father’s. And I’m just realizing I drove here, and now I’ll have to take the tube… which means I should probably get out of here right now, I’m sorry.”

“No, no apologies,” Beard held up his hands in faux surrender. “As long as we can do this again.”

The men stood up, pushed in their chairs, and headed out the door. “We can absolutely do this again.”

The streetlights were just coming on as they walked to the nearest tube station a comfortable quiet between them. It had been a long time since Trent had had the urge to take someone’s hand in public but his fingers twitched with the idea of it. Beard stumbled just a little on the cobblestone as he realized his phone hadn’t vibrated in quite a while—or if it had he hadn’t noticed.

“Well,” Trent said, a thumb pointed over his shoulder at the train that would be arriving in a minute, “this is me. Let’s hope my car is there tomorrow.”

Beard held up his hand, fingers crossed. The train pulled in and Trent turned away, running a hand through his hair to avoid doing something silly, like grabbing the other man by his collar and kissing him. But just as he stepped toward the opening doors, he felt a strong hand in the crook of his elbow.

Beard wasn’t tugging hard, but Trent felt magnetized anyway as he turned back and found himself eye-to-eye with the stoic man. Trent smiled, his hand finding the lapels of the other’s man’s jacket as he tilted and leaned in. Beard met him halfway, and their lips slotted together carefully, cautiously. It only took a beat for Beard to wind his hand into Trent’s hair, for Trent to run his tongue along the seam of Beard’s lips until he was allowed entrance. Trent was so lost in the feeling of Beard’s lips on his, the warmth of his hands where they cradled the side of his head, he didn’t notice that his train was about to leave. Luckily, Beard did, and he broke the kiss, stepping back and giving Trent a gentle nudge onto the train.

“Go on, you’re gonna miss it. ‘Til next time, Trent.”

“‘Til next time, Beard,” Trent managed to call out just as the doors closed.

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #coach beard #trent crimm #coach beard x trent crimm #fanfiction

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lyon-amore · 1 year

Text

The half of me Chapter 16

Chapter 15 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I decide at nightfall to write down some ideas that come to mind. I look at the guitar next to the bed, waiting for it to stroke its strings again and create some new melody. Since the last day with Daliah, I haven't picked up the instrument. I couldn't do it, I didn't have the strength and now, after meeting Jake, kiss him, I have so many ideas in my head that I feel my hands burning, sorry for not playing the guitar and being able to release those songs. At least, I try to write the melody.

As soon as I hear the ringtone, I jump for the phone, perched on the nightstand. My smile wide. "Hi Jake." I greet, picking up the notebooks and pencils to continue writing. "Hello love." he greets me with a voice that makes me melt. My temperature rises and I draw a nervous line on the page. "Jake, if you keep calling me that..." "What will you do?" "I..." I suppose I'm tossing and turning while I'm screaming excitedly, but I'm not going to tell him, I'm nervous enough "why...why did you call? Something new?" He laughs knowing that he has beaten me. "Mike got my number through a program on his computer" he begins to narrate, ", and we have been talking." "I don't know if I like that that man has your number..." "Neither do I" I can see him annoyed ". And much less-" He falls silent and I wait, a little worried. "What happened?" I ask nervously "What did he do or say?" "Do not worry" he says finally ", is better not get you involved." "Oh..." Okay, I understand, he must have said or done something to him, regarding him matter "Okay, I better not ask about it." "Yes, it will be the best" he sighs and I leave the notebook on the table, lying on the bed to talk to him ". He wants to speak with you." I blink in confusion Talk to me? "Why?" "He has something to tell you about Daliah." My heart stops. Why didn't he tell me before?

I bite the inside of my cheek, annoyed. Now I can't get in touch with him. "Can you ask him for his number to speak with him?" I ask calmly. "Not a good idea" he replies quickly ", he is a criminal hacker, MC and he also had problems with the Rosenschwarz police" I can hear the concern in his voice ". Unfortunately, he does not want to tell me, so you are going to have to come to Evergreed." "I'll see if I can…" I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. I wanted to go back to Evergreed for Jake, but now I was afraid to go back to find out what Mike was going to tell me. "Something unexpected has also happened" he says in a rush ", it seems that Mike knows Seo-ah." I sit up quickly, surprised. Why does Seo-ah know Mike? She hasn't been online all day. What if she has something to do with everything that's going on? Perhaps my arrival in the chat has put pressure on her and something happened after talking to me, perhaps she regretted it. "For now, you should not ask Seo-ah why she knows him" I hear him say in a calm tone ", maybe that would make Mike not do the program for us and we still do not know the deal they have." "Yeah... Maybe what you saw it didn't have to do with us." "Exactly, maybe it was from a topic before I talked to him." I nod. I want to think that's the way it is, that Seo-ah and Mike didn't kill Daliah. Because now, Mason is the important one in the investigation. I needed to get that evidence against him, as soon as we rule him out, then we'll investigate. "Anyway" I sigh, lying back down again ", now it's better not to think about the investigation, it's time to relax." "Did something important interrupt you?" "I was composing." "Do not strain your hand" unlike Elliot when saying it, I can feel a smile in Jake when he speaks ", I want to keep listening to more songs that you write." "Have you listened to the files that are in Nymos?" I ask with a slight blush. "They were with me while I ran away" I smile happy to know. He never left me, he always took me with him ". It kept me focused, even when I was working on improving Nymos, I kept hearing your voice." I laugh and I settle more, starting to feel more tired. It's been a hard day at the store and I woke up too early this morning.

A yawn escapes me and it goes through my head that Jake probably thinks I find him boring. "Sorry, it's not because I didn't like what you said-" "You have had a tough day, haven't you?" I nod with my eyes closed. Jake's voice sounds like a whisper through the phone. It's perfect to be able to listen to him before going to sleep "Sleep, I do not bother you anymore." "Can you... can you stay on the phone until I fall asleep?" I ask with a whispery voice, beginning to drift off. "Sure" I hear a small laugh ". I can even stay the whole night if you want." I laugh, although my laugh is very weak.

I just fell asleep. Dreaming of Jake and his voice, saying a few words to me that I hope one day he will tell me when we meet again. "Rest MC, I love you."

I get up early to get ready and go to my parents' house. I see that Jake is no longer on call. I understand, as much as he doesn't sleep, he's not going to spend all night staying on the phone either.

The water manages to clear me and the music plays throughout the bathroom, keeping me singing to stop being tired. "Looks like yesterday was at least a great day for you" I hear Daliah say from the other side of the curtain ", you've managed to be a runaway's bride, congratulations." "And I should remind you that you slept with what you hated." "At least mine was for my own benefit." I wonder how long I'll be talking to her, maybe when I catch her killer? Or will I never recover? "That depends on you" she answers me, knowing that it's the product of my thoughts, she answers my questions ", you might even end up in a mental hospital for this." I push that image out of my head, trying to calm myself down.

Jake.

Think about Jake, he keeps you on the ground. "Are you going to think about the kiss while you shower?" Daliah laughs "You perverted!" I get nervous and finish washing, turning off the tap. The heat on my cheeks is not a product of hot water.

Once ready, I quickly go downstairs. I walk over to my car and startle when Elliot appears next to me, placing a hand on the door. "My God, Elliot..." I breathe calmly, placing a hand over my heart "What a scare..." "Where are you going?" He asks me seriously "You can't drive with your hand like that." I bite the inside of my cheek, starting to get annoyed with his overprotectiveness. Or maybe it's because little by little he starts to bother me after the kiss and I don't like that he's so aware of me, as if I owe him something. But tell that to the policeman who has to protect you. "To my parents' house" I answered, crossing my arms ". And I can perfectly drive, I've already taken the medicine.” I answered without looking at him. It's still difficult for me to do it, it's only been a day after what happened. "Let me drive you." He holds up his hand for me to give him the car keys. "I don't need you to take me" I pushed him away carefully. I don't think I've ever felt more uncomfortable in my entire life ", I can do it alone and you don't have to make up for what happened either-" "I'm not compensating for anything" he replies annoyed ". Look, I have to watch over you today and I also want to see your parents" I look at him and see that he is quite serious ". Remember I dated Daliah-" "Yeah, I remember it every day in case you didn't know." I give him the keys and go to the passenger seat, listening to him chuckle. Didn't he think it was a response caused by jealousy? Because for me it was more the discomfort that my sister's ex is doing everything he can to be nice to me.

As soon as he boots up, I see the spy chat jump up. Mason and Grace. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mason Well, Seo-ah doesn't answer my calls today either

Grace I also tried to call her, but she doesn't answer

Mason What will happen to her?

Grace I wish I knew 😔 Did you want anything else?

Mason Well… Actually I wanted to talk to you about something else

Grace Alright

Mason Do you remember the last time we went to Colville?

Grace Hmm… I think it was… seven months ago? Six months? We have always filmed there for the big stages That's why I suggested it yesterday

Mason I just remembered something After the last time we were When we wanted to go again, Daliah refused

Grace Oh yeah! She almost killed us because we didn't listen to her

Mason I was thinking… And if she met her murderer there and didn't want to come back?

Grace I don't know, I went to Rosenschwarz after you So whatever happened in Colville, I have no idea

Mason Same I left at the same time as Jane and Carter, I tried to convince Seo-ah to go back to Rosenschwarz together, but she said that she would stay a little longer

Grace So maybe she knows what happened, right?

Mason Maybe? Though she was calm when we named Colville

Grace You think the murder has to do with what happened in Colville?

Mason Don't know I only know that something happened

Grace Unfortunately, Daliah never told me about it Although it is true that she was upset about the subject...

Mason And what about Ralph? When did he leave?

Grace I think he said that he wanted to shoot a couple of night scenes and that he would come home. But you know him, he's a loner I don't think he spent time with Daliah, she would give him a headache 🤭

Mason That is That maybe Seo-ah knows...

Grace Surely yes Let's wait until he comes back to ask him

Mason We might as well ask Ralph Just in case he knows something 🤔

Grace Yes, it's a good idea Then when I sees him, I ask him

Mason OK If I see him first, I'll ask him

Grace Yes, let's not forget Because he rarely answers messages He almost has it for decoration 🙄

Mason 😆 Well we'll talk

Grace See you later Mason

----Mason has disconnected---- ----Grace has disconnected---- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Colville.” I whisper, after finishing reading the conversation. “What about Colville?” I hear Elliot ask. "Oh, it's not… Nothing." I reply, putting my phone away. I notice Elliot's gaze resting on me for a few seconds. I covered my face with my hair, hoping that with that, it might be some kind of signal for him to stop looking at me. "You know? Daliah loved Colville" I turn around when I hear him say those words ", I remember that she once said that when she had a little more money, before going to Hollywood, she would live there, away from this town." "Yeah, she didn't like the people around here very much." I replied, trying to keep at least one conversation about my sister and not us. "Well, that was normal for her" he clicks her tongue, with a laugh ", she wanted to be the center of attention, but not to be badmouthed." "Do you think she would be able to hate going to Colville at some point in her life?" "I don't know, can you tell me?" He gives me a quick look "You're her sister and… After we break up, it's not like we had much of a relationship" he looks at me again, stopping at the light ". But I don't think hating Colville was on her list of things that she hated, do you?" I nod slowly, thinking about the conversation between Grace and Mason. Something must have happened then. Connected or not, I have to find out in order to rule it out.

We arrive at my parents' house and I knock on the door. With Elliot by my side. I hope they don't confuse us, I don't want them to think that we are together. Luckily, I have put on a high-necked shirt. When I have seen how the mark he made me has remained, I almost had a heart attack. “Hello honey” My father hugs me as soon as I open the door, then he looks at Elliot and offers his hand, smiling ". Thank you for taking care of her, Elliot, we…" he sighs and lets us pass "We wouldn't know what to do without you to protect her." "You'll always be safe with me, Mr. Gardner." He places his hand on my back as he says it. <<I think that's not being very police...>> "Elliot, call me Haines, we already know each other well so you don't call me sir" my father laughs and then looks at me, a little sad ". Your mother is in your old room, I told her that you would come, but..." “It's okay.” I force a smile, even though my chest aches. My mother doesn't want to see me. It's like a stab in the back.

They go to the dining room while I go to the kitchen to prepare coffee. I try to keep an eye on the conversation, for when I return. "Is there anything else known about the murderer?" my father asks, with a tone between calm and aggressive at the same time. “No, nothing” Elliot answers with a sigh “, but at least we know he's not a complete copycat." "And why is that?" I ask, taking the coffees to the table. "Well, if it was" Elliot picks up his glass and looks at me "then Daliah would have to have water in her lungs, Krebs was suffocating-" he stopped for a moment, not knowing whether or not to continue what he was saying. My father nods and he continues "He suffocated his victims in the lake, but there didn't seem to be any indication of that." "It can't be." I whisper, remembering my dream. But perhaps it wasn't a vision of what he was seeing, but rather the fear that Daliah felt in those times when he thought about those events from the past. "Why can't it be?" Elliot asks me, frowning. "I-" There is a knock at the door and I am relieved a little. I have an excuse to get up. "I'll open it." I get up from the chair, going to the entrance.

I open the door and meet the postman. "A package for" he reads the name and looks at me "MC Gardner." I blanch when I hear my name. I no longer receive any packages to this address. I reach out and he gives it to me, saying goodbye. I move the box and hear something move inside it. When I open it, I see that it is a video camera. I detach the screen and turn it on. "What is this?" I enter the saved videos folder, there is only one video "Sleeping Beauty." I read in the title. I put the video and all I see is that everything is dark. The person who is recording does not speak, just walks. There is a small cut and I can see that it focuses on Mount Lake. My breath hitches. Impossible not to recognize it. Then focus on something. Or rather… Someone. I can see Daliah with her eyes closed. My breath hitches when there's a cut that says 'So beautiful even asleep'. On her neck I see red marks, like she's been suffocated, just like Elliot said. The killer runs a hand over my sister's face, of course, he's wearing gloves. And like something out of a horror movie, Daliah's eyes widen, scared. I scream, throwing the camera to the ground and me next, my legs are shaking. “What's wrong?!” I hear my dad say, along with his and Elliot's footsteps. "MC?" Elliot crouches down next to me and grabs me by the shoulders "What's up?" “T-the video…” I try to say, pointing at the camera. “Help her up.” he says to my father as he approaches the camera “A rag! Something to grab it!" "Right now" my father hugs me against him, pulling me into the house ". Go to the sofa and sit down, right now I'm coming." I nod shaking, starting to cry.

I stay on the sofa, listening to how a police car has approached our house I'm hugging myself on the couch, still not believing what I've seen. It was Daliah, but was she alive? Or was it something they had done to scare me? "MC" I hear Elliot call my name and I look up ", remember the postman?" "Yes, he's the one who always makes the route through this urbanization" I answered slowly, wiping my tears away ", that's why I was surprised that he brought the package for me... " Elliot squats down next to me, looking into my eyes. "The forensics just checked to see if there are any other prints on the camera, but-" "There are only mine." I reply, already knowing the answer. "Yes." He taps on the couch, not knowing what to say to me ". Right now they have taken to the laboratory to examine the video carefully, perhaps there is a cut in which something can be seen that points us to the murderer." I take a deep breath, feeling pain in my chest. I wanted to have a quiet day, a day with my parents. But in the end, it has turned into a nightmare. "Agent Bloomgate." I hear one of the cops call out to him. "I'm coming now." he looks at me worriedly before getting up. I pay attention to the conversation, as much as they speak softly, I can hear them. "We have questioned the postman" the policeman says calmly ", apparently, it wasn't when he was a block from here that he realized the box was there, before there wasn't one." "Someone must have put it in during a cast." I hear Elliot say annoyed. I hug myself tighter, scared. I hear footsteps and Elliot returns, again crouching down. "Who knew you were going to be here?" “Daliah's friends and-” I stop. Jake. Jake knew it. I can't say his name. I take a deep breath, biting my tongue ". My parents and you." "I'll have them questioned, then." I nod and he takes my hand, caressing it. I see that he is really worried about me. And at least I appreciate that. "Haines!" I hear my mother scream nervously "The police! MC! Has something happened to her?!" I get up quickly from the sofa, listening to how he asks for me.

She tugs at my father's shirt, who calmly tries to explain that I'm fine. I walk up to her and place my hand on her shoulder. "Mom-" "MC!" She hugs me tightly, crying "I thought I had lost you too! I thought I had lost another daughter!" I swallow hard, returning her hug. "I'm fine, mom…" I tell her, trying to reassure her "I'm fine." I see Elliot talking to my father, while I try to calm my mother down. Elliot looks at me a little surreptitiously, surely he's thinking that he hasn't been able to protect me from this. I don't think anyone would have been able to protect me from this.

I have stayed with my mother in our old room, she is sleeping in Daliah's bed, hugging one of her stuffed animals when she was a child. I smile when I see her and take out my phone, I would like to tell my friends what just happened. I feel like it's been forever since I've talked to them. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MC Well, the murderer has made an appearance again.

----Dan has connected---- ----Jessy has connected---- ----Thomas has connected---- ----Lilly has connected---- ----Cleo has connected---- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am surprised to see how quickly they have connected. I missed them… ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dan Has he killed someone else?

Lilly What happened?

Jessy Please MC! Tell us he hasn't done anything to you!

Thomas But they have caught him?

Cleo He has attacked you?

MC Ok everyone please calm down I received a video of ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I send it to them without having finished it. The image of Daliah dead again is in my head. The tears begin to fall again. I can't control them. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lilly With what? What was in that video?

Dan Wasn't Hackerman helping you in the investigation? How come you got a video of the killer? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The chat begins to crash, behaving like the time Jake interrupted the vote. I read how Jessy writes a 'Not again' and Thomas 'What's going on?'.

The next thing that happens is that the entire chat has changed. In the background, I can see Nymos's eye, but it's not just that. The eye blinks, as if he is observing. He moves his eye to all sides, observing. I wave my hand in front of the camera and he looks straight ahead, blinking, then looking like he's happy, forming an upward curving white line. Is Jake watching me? What was that thing called now that it was in fashion? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

----Nym-0s has connected----

Nym-0s Because she has not received it by message.

MC Jake! What have you done?

Nym-0s I have moved this chat to the Nymos program. No one will be able to read us. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I calm down reading his words. At least he is safe. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dan I don't know whether to say that I'm glad to see you or that I want to punch you for having done it will suffer MC

Nym-0s I would not mind getting punched, I know I deserve it for worrying her. But at least I am grateful to you for taking care of her for me :)

Dan It's the least we could do for her after all the effort she put into looking for Hannah As long as you don't get her in trouble this time.

Nym-0s I will make sure it does not happen.

Thomas That's possible? Hide this chat?

Nym-0s I have improved a program that I use to talk to MC. We are safe from being investigated.

Jessy Hi Jake, welcome back 🙂

Nym-0s Thank you Jessica.

Jessy 😒

Cleo So… As MC told us, you are helping her by investigating her sister's murder

Nym-0s Exactly. But we are just starting, we have little information.

MC Well not exactly

Nym-0s Right, Mason and Grace's chat.

MC 😔 According to Elliot, Daliah always wanted to move to Colville, he told her once But suddenly hating it...

Lilly It means something happened, right?

MC What, we don't know…

Dan And what about the video that you have seen? What a little liar has sent it

Cleo Little liar? 😐

Thomas What?

Dan Jessy is forcing me to watch the series, don't ask anymore

Jessy 🤭

MC It was a video camera with an edited file on it And Daliah… ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I stop for a second, trying to get some air to calm down. No one rushes me to write, they calmly wait for me to continue. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MC In the video she was dead, near Lake Mount... The one who was recording caressed her face...

Lilly That's crazy…

Thomas Unbelievable that they sent you something like that

Dan As soon as you know who the murderer is, let me know that I'll take care of him 💪

Nym-0s Did you manage to see anything striking in the video?

MC No, there was nothing... But they had modified the video with special effects, to make it look like she was watching me It was so real...

Nym-0s How is it that the policeman who was watching you did not notice anything strange?

MC Elliot went in with me to talk to my father about the case And I heard that the postman noticed that the box was in the basket one block before arriving

Nym-0s Elliot was with you?

Lilly 😶

MC Yes, but only because I wanted to go in to talk to my father, not for anything else

Jessy Hmm…. So, whoever sent it must have knowledge of making videos

MC Which means, again it has to be one of Daliah's mates.

Lilly And what more do you know?

Nym-0s Daliah was blackmailing a colleague of hers to gain easy access to show business.

Thomas What?!

Cleo Daliah blackmailing?! 😱

Dan Are you surprised? The girl had character

Jessy But even so…

Dan But was the situation very strong?

Nym-0s This guy was stealing other people's projects and modifying them.

MC And if it was him? If he knew how to modify projects, perhaps he knows if he has been able to make a montage with that video

Nym-0s It is surely probably that he can do it. But are you okay? Sorry for taking so long to ask, I have focused on details.

MC No problem I'm fine A little affected

Dan I still think you better come to Duskwood At least to be away from Rosenschwarz

Nym-0s It would be risky for the killer to chase her. If we are still not sure who he is and he can go wherever he wants without any problems, it would be dangerous for her to follow to Duskwood.

MC And that if the police would let me go...

Jessy Hmm… Is there anything else we should know?

MC Hmm… I don't think so… That's all the information I have...

Nym-0s Good, then I will continue decrypting Daliah's journal. Be careful MC.

MC I will have it

----Nym-0s has disconnected---- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Jake logs out, the chat returns to normal. I'm going to miss that eye following the conversations when someone wrote or when I wrote, it was adorable. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thomas Will it do that every time it connects?

Jessy I thought it was fun 🤭

Dan Well, I have to admit it, Hackerman knows how to make spectacular entrances

Cleo MC, let us know when you know more news We want to support you where we can

MC Thank you Cleo We'll talk soon 😄

----Cleo has disconnected----

Jessy Take care MC 🥺

MC I will!

----Jessy has disconnected----

Dan Make sure that the police are close to you or I will have to go with a gun

MC Haha, sure 😆

----Dan has disconnected----

Lilly Good luck to you and Jake 😄

MC Thank you very much Lilly! 🤗

----Lilly has disconnected---- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I put the phone on the table and lie down, keeping my eyes on my mother. It's still too early to be sleepy, so I just keep an eye on her to see if she's okay or if when she wakes up, she needs something.

We need to know something else that happened between Mason and Daliah. His motive… There was too much evidence against Mason, evidence that could undermine his image.

I hear the notification sound and pick up my phone. I smiled reading his words. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

----Nym-0s has connected----

Nym-0s I am glad they took care of you all this time :) I know I could count on them if I needed help. And I am also glad the killer did not do something to you. You are too important to me to lose you now.

----Nym-0s has disconnected---- ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A small laugh escapes me and my fear disappears.

It may be far away, but I feel great when it calms me down.

But now I remember...

After this how am I going to be able to escape to Evergreed to go see him and meet Mike?

*Jake POV*

What had been risky appearing into the group of Hannah's friends again? It could be so, but reading MC had me worried that something terrible had happened.

Bloomgate… What was he thinking of not doing his job well? He should be watching her, not be at her parents' house like-

I run my hands over my face, trying to calm myself. His parents already knew him because he was Daliah's boyfriend, so who am I to get angry in the situation? He can come into they house if he's invited, but I don't know if what he's doing is to gain confidence again that he's the perfect son-in-law that he's always been. Because I doubt very much that any father wanted for his daughter that her boyfriend was being wanted by the government. "As long as he do not bother her to do anything she does not want to." I whisper to myself, trying to get back to work after this pause.

Well, it is more than clear that is someone from the film academy from what MC has said about the Daliah video and that something happened in Colville that could be connected to what she has been hiding for so long.

I am starting to get hungry...

I take a couple of coins and get out of bed, ready to go out to eat something. I left the computers with the screen down, in case they might make a sound and alert someone. I put on the hood and the mask and leave the room, looking at my phone in case of an alert that someone is following me. I sigh allied to see that everything is quiet. I wonder how long it will last that I can be in Evergreed without anyone alerting me to my presence.

Decided to go to the Korean restaurant I ran into upon arrival, it did not seem like it looked bad.

When I arrive, I sit at a table in the back, away from the people and the windows. The guy Mike was talking to yesterday comes over to the table, with a little notebook to serve me. "Good morning" he greets and I notice like yesterday that his voice is quite fine. How can I describe it? It is not strong or severe enough. And now that I look closer, his face is familiar to me. I think I've seen it somewhere. He doesn't seem very tall either, I'd say average height " What do you want to order?" "Japchae." I say without looking at the letter. "Anything else?" "No." I keep him from realizing that I am analyzing him. "Okay, now we bring you the order." He walks away and the phone falls off. "Wait, you dropped your phone." A call rings and I accidentally see Grace's name on it. The boy turns around and grabs it quickly. “Thank you." "One question" I stop him and he looks at me "do you know a girl named Seo-ah?" I see how his expression changes to one more scared? "A friend of hers is worried about her, he told me that she is from here-" "She is my sister" he answers quickly ". She's busy right now fixing the script, that's why she doesn't answer your friend." "Okay, I will let her know." "Well, we'll bring your order then..." he leaves nervously and I keep looking at him. Mike was talking to him, Seo-ah has not been online since yesterday and not today, according to Grace and Mason's chat. I think Seo-ah must know more than we think, but if I ask her brother, I will raise suspicions about me and she will want to know who I really am.

On the way back to the hostel, I pass in front of a clothing store. In a shop window, I notice a black mask, with a butterfly made of small diamonds, clearly, they are fake. MC appears in my mind, thinking that it would surely suit her. I put my hand in my pocket, taking out the coins that I still have from the ones I had taken to go out to eat. I have just what I need to buy it… Maybe with this shet could come? If she is also camouflaged from her face, no one would recognize her... I smile under the mask.

I finally arrive at the hostel after a big meal. Well… Not that big, it is just that for the rest of the months, I cannot afford to go to another restaurant. I do not usually spend a lot since I ran away from home, I had to get my body used to eating the minimum if I want to continue having money. I had to take all my money out of the bank so I would not have to pay anything with a credit card. And we better not talk about how to make money. Little jobs where I fix electronics, after receiving money, I disappear forever. Along with all my false documentation. All of that was until last year, where I could not accept small jobs anymore because of Lilly's video, I could not risk showing myself, even if there were not any photos of me, I felt persecuted. And after the FBI thing… I have not been able to spend much money, everything I have, I spend it knowing that I do not know when I will be able to get something to do. And I do not know if Evergreed would give me something not illegal to avoid attracting attention.

I open the screens and see that it has decrypted another file. Another conversation between Mason and Daliah. "Well, well..." I murmur, without taking my eyes off the screen "This is putting together quite a few pieces of the puzzle" I then take a screenshot of the conversation with Mike ". It's your turn to act, Detective MC Gardner.” I tell myself with a laugh. I know she'll get him to talk, like she did with Jane.

Chapter 17

#duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfic #duskwood everbyte #everbyte #everbyte studio

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lotusran1 · 18 days

Text

Virtual Reality

finally İzuku became the #1 hero.like his childhood dream like all might.

he was helping everyone showing the light to the villians everything was perfect.

his father always helped him. after rescuing shigaraki from all for one , he came back.

but there is always that he didnt expect to happen

first there was the sound of a glass breaking then ı banged my head .shock is still in my mind when ı opened my eyes.

“where am I?!”

—————————•——————————

ı took off the medicine mask from my mouth when ı looked around, the room was dark, the green color illuminated the room a little.the air was so thin it made me cough.

İzuku realized at that moment was that his arms and all his hardwork is gone.

Alarms go off everthing flashes red. he panicked . his heart are moving with alarms. he was choking on his choughs.

he could hear so many foot steps.

I closed my eyes.someone took me in their arms.

“dont run away my bunny.”the voice was so soft and deep.

“ dont be afraid you eill be fine now, daddy is got you”a hand started drawing a circle on my back.

“dad?”

I slowly opened my eyes and saw my fathers face softened with worry.

“yes ducky.” he started caressing my head.

“why am ı here and what hapened to my arm-“ı looked at him scarred.

“hush little one… Im sorry about what hapened to you.ı couldnt stop it”he frowned.

its like the moment my mom found out ı was quirkless.

Tears were threatening to fall from my eyes.

a hand wiped my tears as they fall”dont cry bunny.its all over, dad is here to take care of you.”

he started rocking me back and forth slowly at the same time.

my stomach growled. I was so ashamed.I had ignored it until now.

“hmm.. you look hungry. would you like something to eat?”he chuckled.

When a nice smell hit my nose,I immediately looked up.

Katsudon!

he started to feed me. “did you like it?”

“taste… good”I spoke with my mouth full.

when ı looked up he looked very happy.

By the time ı finished eating I was feeling better…. and sleepy.A yawn escaped my mouth.

“ you must be tired little one.”he chuckled.”lets tuck you in bed.”

I leaned against my fathers chest as he took me to bed.I could hear his heartbeat. I soon fell asleep.

—————————•—————————

His son looked so peaceful while he was sleeping. The sleeping pill had taken effect thankfully.

He always wanted to feel this moment.ı felt the void in my heart was starting to fill again. A void he couldnt fill since his brother and son died.

he felt peacefull while caressing his hair.

He would never let him die again.

Even though he dont want to.

—————————•—————————

“Why do you treat me like a baby?”

“hmm, why did you think that?”He brought another piece of food closer to my mouth.

I swallow it fast “Whenever you’re around me you look at me like ım a baby”I frowned.

“because I love you more than you can think of besides ı missed you”He smiled.

My father wiped out my mouth with a napkin.

His phone started ringing.

“I will be right back.”He left before ı can say anything to him.

When he came back his face remained neutral.

“Ducky,do you want to came to your dad’s job?”

There wasnt much to do around here so I accepted.

He picked me up “ So let’s clean you up ducky.”

—————————•—————————

He sat me on his lap and started playing with my hair.

“ I love you hair. I used to keep it a bit long too but its easier this way.” He sighed.

“ I dont usually bother taming my curls.”I said as I leaned into his hand.

“sensei” Long black hair waving as he approached.

“did you bring the others?”My dad asked.

“Yes. They are here.”

then his eyes fell on me.

“Im İzuku”I said.

I saw strange emotions pass over his face.

“I take my leave.” He left quickly.

İt was like something about me bothered him.

My dad held one side of my face.” Dont worry,Tenko usually stays at such a distance.”

I started to feel uncomfortable when other people came in.I run away quickly.

“İzuku!”

I could feel my dad looking after me with concern.

While I was looking around something caught my eye.

It was very dark.When I turned and cablesran through the graund.They say curiosity kills cat.I quickly went in.

I gasped when I saw brains and black skins.

That can’t be happening right now, right?

His dad created nomu’s.He had always ignored his da- no all for one’s suspicious behavior.He acted so foolish.

Now he would either escape or act like nothing happened.But İzuku can’t do this anymore.

he saw a table at the distance.

Unfortunately nothing was able to used with this arms.Than he saw the photo of him sleeping on the edge of the table.

I hit a tank when I tried to run away quickly.

“kacchan?!”I screamed in shock.

All of my friends in there.

“ ah, bunny. did you see something you shouldn’t have found?”devil smirked.

I opened my eyes with fear.

“what did you do to them?!”I yelled at him.

“My, my… now, hush little one.”He caught me.”I was going to let you play with them when they are ready”He started caressing my hair.

“Now ducky, you look scared “He speaks again eith hsi gentle voice.”sleep of the edge of dreams.”

As my vision faded I could feel his grin.

—————————•—————————

its my first fic and ım sorry if its cringe😂

#bnha #bnha fic #all for one #bnha all for one #dad for one #izuku midoriya #bnha fanfiction #all for one is hisashi #mha deku #mha shigaraki #mha fic #mha fanfiction #tenko shimura #shigaraki tenko #mha tenko #bnha tenko #deku #bnha deku

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furvillaconfessions · 5 months

Text

Hi! This is the real Jayce, aka Pastel aka Bestest_Fox (attached proof of log-ins)

ID Verification: imgur.com/a/htd3n6b

First off, Yoshi, I HAVE to ask that the post about Lance and I gets deleted as soon as possible, this is EXTREMELY horrible to have on here about someone. Tagging it with "no definitive proof" is just a clear sign that you should NOT have posted this. The amount of shit lance has gotten from this blog is insane to me.

May I add from your own rules Yoshi:

"4. Egregious claims must come with proof

the burden is on you— screencaps, archives, etc., whatever you have— so make it count. Otherwise, it’s deleted and that’ll be that."

Secondly, I have not been groomed. I do not shy away from talking about this, I would've preferred that OP just DMed me personally or something so I could explain and not have this public... This is something I've dealt ever since becoming friends with him. Lance is a very close friend of mine that has looked out for me for years now at this point. I don't owe the whole internet my entire life story, this is all very traumatic for me as is just because it brings back a lot of trauma from around a year ago when I tried to leave my unsupportive, transphobic, abusive parents and I had all of my property taken away from me (car, wallet, phone, computer, keys, etc.) and was basically trapped in my bedroom with nothing for a month. The only thing that helped me was being able to escape the house one night and walking to the corner of a street, waiting for my friend to pick me up. Just so I could leave and get on a plane to Lance and finally be in a supportive environment. I do not only live with Lance I also live on the same property as his father, step-mother, and brother. I have been thriving here, able to actually be myself and be happy, this past year has been the happiest I have been in ages and it's all thanks to Lance and his family. I don't know what other proof I can show you or give you to show you that Lance isn't a groomer/pedophile, its an outrageous claim to me to just toss out there. Adults are allowed to be *friends* with minors, ONLY FRIENDS.

...I was going to put something here but It ended up being way to personal and I really don't want to share that part of my life with anyone yet.. Just know I've dealt with a real groomer before when I was a lot younger. (11)

Lastly, I feel like I don't even need to explain this part but here we go... As for the FA and my art. As you have learned, I am 19. If you dug into my FA more you would realize that not only have I done paw art for Lance I've drawn actual NSFW for quite a few people. If anyone on FV wanted to go out of their way and dm me offsite asking for art of this sort, in my mind that is perfectly appropriate. I am an artist who accepts NSFW commission and I am not a minor, this is perfectly legal and in my mind its alright as long as I keep it in spaces meant for it. (aka FA) I'm sure you guys have seen your fair share of minors drawing NSFW... I have never draw NSFW as a minor, I always drew the line at that.

All this does is possibly ruin our lives and spread rumors that are actually damaging. This is something people get arrested for and is not something to be taken lightly. If you have any more concerns or anything like that DM me on discord or FV, I am a real person who is separate from Lance who has my own life, thoughts, and opinions. I don't know what else I can tell you all.

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hauntedsideofthemoon · 1 year

Text

BROKEN HEART OF GOLD - chapter 7; it's always darkest before the dawn

AO3 link

pairing: chishiya x gn!reader

format: gender-neutral original character/self-insert, they/them pronouns are used when necessary, no use of y/n or "___", feel free to picture the character however you wish!

tags: canon-typical violence, slow burn, ocs as side characters, mentions/depictions of mental health issues

word count: 3110

________________________________________________________

It took me a while to get back to my senses. When my eyes came back into focus, they were fixated on the lifeless body next to me. I couldn’t believe I had just killed someone.

"Ohoh? Now, this is the most interesting thing I’ve seen all day." A voice I had grown to dislike rejoiced while approaching me. Niragi stood beside the guard’s corpse, staring at the taser gun in my hands. My fingers were still clasped over the trigger, but his uncomfortable gaze made me drop the gun immediately. Niragi picked it up, admiring it like a child opening a Christmas gift. ‘This is going to be pretty useful to me,’ his tone more amused than ever.

Chishiya strolled past us and stopped in front of the pendulum he was inspecting earlier. The black light from his collar revealed the invisible ink drawing on its surface: a simple arrow pointing down.

He stepped inside the circular platform and tried to stop the sphere from swinging. When it halted, Chishiya reached his hand under the sphere and grabbed a small key that had been taped to it. He unlocked his collar and let it drop to the floor.

He was finally able to leave the museum, and I would be trapped with Niragi, who now had a weapon in his possession. Usagi was looking down at Chishiya’s collar on the floor when I walked over to her.

‘Hey, Usagi, are you okay?’

‘I didn’t know the collar’s light did that. I need to move fast before mine turns off, then.’

I offered to help Usagi after she saved me from the night guard. She showed me her phone with a picture of some bones, probably part of a fossil. Opening the floor map, I pointed at a dinosaur exhibition inside the gallery and we rushed inside.

Usagi was looking around the displays, searching for any drawings that would glow under the lights of her collar. She spotted a big arrow on the floor, leading up a set of metal stairs in the center of the room. More arrows appeared as she walked up, guiding her all the way to the top.

Our collars turned off at that exact moment, but Usagi had already found the key taped to the dinosaur skeleton close to the stairs. She stretched an arm to grab the key and unlocked her collar, hanging it on the railings before she came back down.

‘Oi, you can’t run away like that!’ Niragi stormed toward me and snatched the booklet from my hands. ‘I told you to pick this thing up because I needed it, and you thought you could get away from me with it?’

‘No! I just wanted to help Usagi, and I was going back to–’ I quit talking for a moment, growing irritated by his presence. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose. ‘Alright, you know what? I already know where I need to go, and I’m sure I won’t be helpful to you anymore since I’m so ‘useless’. So you can keep the map, alright? I’m leaving.’

I brushed past him, heading to the stairs. Chishiya was standing near the entrance, observing one of the fossils. ‘I thought you would have left already, after getting your collar off,’ I gave him a questioning look.

‘There’s still something about this place that I wanted to check,’ he responded without looking at me.

I shrugged. By his tone, I could tell he wouldn’t explain it further even if I asked.

Suddenly, a feminine scream echoed through the gallery. The Beach girl that had arrived with us came running from the other entrance, fleeing from a guard.

All five of us rushed to the stairs, crowding the small corridor. I could barely see anything in this tiny place, with everyone’s phones flashing lights all around as we ran. Finding the stairs that led to the lower floor, I immediately made my way down.

Chishiya followed me inside the new room with a suspiciously relaxed look on his face. 'You should move quickly, in case the guard comes down after us.' He glanced at me before making his way among the displays.

I followed Chishiya, planning to ask for his help in finding the humans exhibition since I didn't have a map anymore.

‘I didn’t say you could follow me.’

‘I’m gonna need your help finding my clue. Niragi stole my map.’

‘That’s not my problem. Figure it out yourself.’

‘Just this time, please! You said you’ve been to this museum before, so you can explain to me where the displays are and I’ll leave you alone, okay?’

Chishiya’s face was full of displeasure when he turned to me and sighed. He raised his hand and started gesturing toward different directions, explaining the routes that I should take. When he noticed my confused expression, he interrupted his instructions and looked away. ‘You’re just going to get lost anyway. I’ll show you where it is, but after that, you’re on your own.’

I was a little offended by his words, but glad that he agreed to guide me. I thanked him with a smile before sticking to his side. Chishiya was about to turn a corner when he abruptly stepped back and pulled me down into hiding, placing an index finger in front of his lips.

‘There’s a guard over there,’ he whispered, ‘we need to go through that room at the back, but there are no places to hide in there. When I give you the signal, run as fast as you can.’

Chishiya raised a hand while peeking over the corner and I waited. Then, he quickly lowered his hand before sprinting into the room in front of us, and I closely followed behind.

It was much darker inside, Chishiya’s white hoodie being the only thing I could see in front of me. When he suddenly dashed to the side, I couldn’t keep up with his speed and ended up bumping into the sign he had dodged.

The sharp metal corner scraped my side right above my other injury. I cursed under my breath, pressing a hand over my mouth to muffle a groan of pain while stumbling over the railings.

Once again, our collars turned on at the worst possible moment. Under the faint light, I noticed a bloodstain forming on my shirt.

‘We need to keep moving,’ Chishiya tugged on my arm and dragged me up ahead. I placed a hand over the painful area, trying to endure the huge discomfort.

As we passed through the entrance, a glass display with three human sculptures immediately caught my attention. They had different heights, resembling a person’s growth through life, and I recalled how my riddle referred to a baby, an adult, and an elder with a walking cane. I released myself from Chishiya’s grip and rushed toward the monitor while taking my phone out of my pocket.

‘There’s no time for that!’ Chishiya whispered-shouted at me.

‘No, I need to do this now! What if my next clue is even harder to find?’

‘Whatever, I won't wait for you. I’m leaving.’ Chishiya turned his back and left.

I focused my attention on the scanning process of this QR Code; it finally worked. Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I heard heavy footsteps closing by. I ran through the exit, turning the corner and spotting a set of elevators at the end of the corridor. Chishiya was in front of them, waiting for the doors to open.

Walking closer, I gave him a small wave while keeping a safe distance between us. I said I would leave him alone, and he said he wouldn't wait for me, so this felt quite awkward... Chishiya ignored me and turned up the volume on his iPod. By that action as well as the slight furrow in his brow, I could tell he was annoyed at my presence.

Inside the elevators, he pressed the button to the first floor and leaned against the wall. An uncomfortable silence grew between us, and I could hear the faint beat of his music.

The hem of my shirt was drenched in blood, and a broken stitch was piercing from under the cloth. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Chishiya glancing down at the bloodstain. Before I could face him properly, the elevator doors opened and he rushed out, making his way to the exit.

I raised my phone to examine my new clue: a set of cylindrical pieces that looked like the eyepiece of a telescope. I instinctively reached for my pocket where I kept the booklet, only to feel it empty. It dawned on me that Niragi had stolen it and I didn’t know where he could be.

Disappointment filled my body and my collar turned off. The announcer’s voice echoed through the room, there were thirty minutes left for the game.

Going up a long and exhausting set of stairs, I held my phone’s flashlight on to avoid more accidents in the dark. A voice could be heard coming from up ahead, gradually increasing in volume as I made my way up. And then I realized who the voice belonged to...

‘Come on, we have so much time left and no one’s around, it’s a great moment to have some fun together, don’t you think? You’ve seen what happened to the other girl…’

The scene in front of me made me nauseous. Niragi pinned Usagi against the wall, gripping both her wrists above her head and tracing the side of her torso with the taser gun. I was sure she had the physical capability to free herself, but she likely feared being killed while running due to the gun’s long range.

When Niragi noticed my presence, that awful smile on his face disappeared as he looked at me in disgust.

‘What are you staring at, huh?’ He aimed the gun in my direction and I stepped back, ‘This isn’t a public show for you to watch.’

Usagi immediately turned her head upon realizing that Niragi got distracted. She released herself from his grasp and kicked his stomach, sending him tumbling down the stairs.

As his body fell past me, I managed to avoid it and followed Usagi up. I couldn't hold back a chuckle as I heard Niragi cursing while he rolled down.

We stopped to catch our breaths upon arriving at the central hall.

‘I’m sorry you had to go through that... But it was quite satisfying to watch him fall like that.’ Her lips curled into a small grin in response.

‘Well, thank you for distracting him.’ Usagi glanced down at my collar, ‘Do you need help with finding your key? We still have a lot of time left-’ her eyes shifted downward and she noticed the bloodstain on my shirt. Usagi's eyes widened slightly as she asked if I was alright.

‘Oh, this…’ I looked down, hovering my hand over the blotch to cover the stitch poking from under the shirt.

‘It’s pretty bad right now, but I have someone to help me after I leave this place. I just need to find my key as soon as possible.’

I raised my phone and Usagi examined the image on the screen. ‘It looks like a telescope,’ she stated and pointed to her left, ‘I passed by one in that room earlier.’

When I followed her directions, I couldn't believe my luck when I saw it, right at the entrance of the room. The eyepiece was an exact match to the image on my phone.

I climbed over the small fence and began inspecting the telescope. Reaching my hand inside a very convenient hole in the mount, I found a small key hiding inside.

I unlocked my collar and jumped in excitement as a voice came from my phone announcing ‘game clear.’ I thanked Usagi and gave her a quick hug, wincing when my injury slightly pressed against her.

We walked in opposite directions after leaving the museum and I headed back to the Beach car. My adrenaline rush ceased as a wave of exhaustion filled my body and the pain in my hip had worsened to the point of being agonizing.

Chishiya was leaning over the passenger's seat door. He had a mixed expression on his face that suggested both satisfaction and annoyance at my survival.

The driver noticed me and explained we weren’t allowed to leave until the other two came back, or the game ended. I sighed at his words before moving closer to the car and leaning on it, hoping that time would go by quickly so that I could get this damn wound treated.

A few minutes passed and screams came from the entrance of the museum. Niragi angrily stumbled out of the building, yelling curses at that Beach girl while he followed her. She ran over and got inside the car, slamming the door beside her.

As Niragi approached, I moved to block the door with my body to keep him from going after her. I stared at him with a serious expression on my face, making it clear that I wouldn’t move out of the way. Chishiya let out a chuckle before distancing himself from us.

Niragi pressed the taser gun against my chest, his gaze piercing deeply into my eyes as he lowered his head. ‘Stay out of my business with others. Unless you want me to kill you, right here and right now.’ I shifted my gaze over to the purple bruises on his face and neck, the results of his well-deserved fall earlier.

The driver intervened, dragging Niragi away from me, ‘That’s enough already. Everyone is here, so let’s head back to the Beach.’

Niragi grunted at him, giving me one last threatening glare, and took his place on the passenger’s seat. The girl sat next to the window, her body trembling as tears fell down her cheeks. She glimpsed at me when I placed myself beside her and whispered a soft ‘Thank you.’

Chishiya walked inside, glancing down at my bloody shirt once again before looking up at my face. He quickly averted his gaze when our eyes met and faced outside the window beside him. The driver stepped on the gas and we finally left.

----------

I was the first to get out of the car when we arrived, struggling my way over to the main lobby. I asked the people inside about Ann, and they told me she hadn’t returned from her game yet.

Their words made me feel nauseous. Or maybe it was because the pain had somehow gotten worse. I lifted the hem of my shirt and examined the damage – My skin looked purple and swollen as blood seeped from the reopened cut, and many stitches were broken.

‘That doesn’t look good.’ Chishiya said as he stepped inside the lobby. The corners of his lips were slightly upturned, though his tone didn’t sound like he was poking fun at me. ‘Ann isn’t back yet, I assume?’

I shook my head in response. Chishiya observed my wound for a few moments, tilting his head as the small grin on his face faded away. I couldn’t guess what he was thinking, and his stare made me a little uneasy.

‘Come with me.’ He spoke without looking up, and his voice almost sounded kind.

‘... What?’

Without saying anything else, Chishiya headed toward the stairs. Something about the way he muttered those words had me curious, so I followed him.

Chishiya walked through a long corridor and led me inside a room, which I assumed was his. He dropped his iPod and earphones on the bedside table before turning on the coffee machine to heat up some water. He searched through the drawers and took out some medical tools.

‘You’ll have to lay on the bed for this.’

‘You’re going to take care of my injury?’

‘If you would rather keep bleeding, you can simply leave.’

‘...How do I know I can trust you with this?’

‘It’s your decision. However, you can’t tell anyone about this.’

I raised an eyebrow at him. There was something behind his eyes I couldn’t quite read, but he seemed serious about that. I lay down on the bed, holding my shirt just enough to expose the bloody mess on my side. Chishiya sat next to me and began preparing the materials.

After putting on rubber gloves, he doused a piece of cloth in an antiseptic solution and gently cleaned the skin around the wound.

I winced in pain when he removed my broken stitches, though the re-stitching process didn't feel so bad. Chishiya carefully punctured my skin with the thread to close the cut, and his touch was so light I hardly felt any pain.

It was clear from Chishiya's techniques that he had a lot of experience with this procedure. I felt his warm breath when he leaned over to examine the finished work, covering it with a new dressing.

‘Why did you decide to help me after you said you wouldn’t?’

‘Would you have preferred to be left to die?’

Chishiya's harsh tone didn't match his tender actions. But maybe this was part of his odd personality.

‘That’s not what I meant. Considering your attitude during the game, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you had left me there. I’m just curious, that’s all.’

Silence. Chishiya hadn’t looked at me since he offered to patch my wound, and now he had ignored me completely. He discarded the used materials in a plastic bag and dropped the metal tools into the coffee machine.

‘You’re not going to make coffee in that afterward, right?’

‘I don’t drink coffee. I only use this to sterilize my tools.’

I hummed in response and observed him for a few seconds.

‘You haven’t answered my other question yet.’

I waited, but once again, Chishiya didn’t reply. Sighing in defeat, I got up from the bed, holding the hem of my dirty shirt so it wouldn’t brush against the dressing. ‘Thanks, by the way.’

As I opened the door to leave, his voice came up from the other side of the room, almost inaudible.

‘I think you can still be useful.’

Turning my face back to him, he had a familiar sly grin on his face when he shot me a quick glance. I couldn’t tell if he expected me to read his expression, but he let out a snicker at the puzzled look on my face.

I rolled my eyes and left, slamming the door behind me before making my way back to my room.

#hauntedsideofthemoon #chishiya x reader #chishiya x gender neutral reader #chishiya x gn reader #chishiya x oc #aib x reader #alice in borderland chishiya #chishiya fanfic #aib fanfic

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