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firstkanaphans · 11 months

Note

I am going to miss BoP. It was my whole joy for the last few weeks! Not to sound too greedy but could you maybe imagine writing the proposal one day? If akk already has the ring I mean

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Akk hadn’t thought he would be nervous, but he was. As had become his habit anytime the anxiety of proposing threatened to overwhelm him, he pulled the ring, which he had been keeping locked in his office at work, out of his desk drawer and stared at it—a promise kept hidden in a little velvet box.

The ring was gold with a row of diamonds on both the top and the bottom of the band and inside was engraved their initials. Akk had had it for months, biding his time, but the perfect moment had never come and when he tried to manufacture one himself, he inevitably lost his nerve before he could actually get around to popping the question. It had become a constant source of worry for him and he didn’t want to live with it any longer. They were going back to the beach where they had taken their very first vacation together this weekend and by the end of it, Akk was going to ask Aye to marry him.

He felt pretty confident that Aye would say yes, but “pretty confident” was not “positive” and Akk had been rejected before. Seven years ago, when he had barely had enough money to do such things, he had gotten dressed in his nicest suit, rented out a private room in the fanciest restaurant in the city, and proposed to Mes with an obscenely expensive ring (and an even more obscenely expensive bottle of champagne seeing as how they never actually got around to drinking it). Mes had, of course, refused, because none of their problems could be fixed with a ring, and although logically Akk knew that his rejection had been a gift in disguise, that fear of being told no—of being told that he still wasn't good enough—lingered.

Akk sighed, pocketing the ring. No matter what happened, it would live in his desk no longer.

The end of the work day was rapidly approaching and Akk had no intention of staying any later than he had to, but to his surprise, he was only halfway through packing his briefcase when he heard a familiar voice from the next room. A smile pulled at his lips, flattered, as he always was when Aye chose to visit him at work, but then he heard what he was saying.

“And, you know, if you try really hard, the boss might even sleep with you.”

“Aye,” Akk snapped, storming out of his office to find Aye smirking over at him from his spot perched on the new intern’s desk. The poor boy was beet red and Akk made a mental note to apologize to him later. “Get over here. Stop harassing the interns.”

“But it’s so fun!”

Thua snorted from behind his own desk, but hastily turned it into a cough at Akk’s glare of disapproval.

Realizing he wasn’t going to get help from anyone else, Akk crossed the room in a huff, grabbed Aye by the arm, and dragged him off of the desk by force.

“Okay, bye!” Aye said as Akk pulled him towards the office, waving excitedly to the petrified intern he had only just met. “And remember: if you don’t like it here, you can always head down to Suwannarat & Associates where we never sleep with our interns!”

Akk finally managed to get him into his office and shut the door behind them. “What are you doing here?” he snapped, turning to glare at his smug boyfriend.

“I left work early. I wanted to come say hi!”

Knowing that he really shouldn’t encourage such behavior, Akk hid his delight behind a massive eye roll. “How have you not been fired yet? I am so glad you don’t work for me.”

“Me too,” Aye agreed immediately. “Because otherwise, I couldn’t do this…”

He grabbed Akk’s face and pulled him down into a kiss far dirtier than it had any right to be. Akk tried to push him away half-heartedly, but he had never been good at saying no to Aye, so when Aye gripped onto his lapels tighter, holding him in place, Akk just let him. Until he heard the lock on his office door click.

“Aye,” Akk warned.

Aye blinked up at him innocently. “Yes?”

“Save it for the beach.” Akk was practically begging even though he knew from experience it was pointless. Aye had developed some sort of Pavlovian response to Akk's office after fucking him in here once and his appetite simply could not be sated. Akk liked to pretend that his could and yet he never actually stopped him. He never wanted to.

“But the beach is so far away,” Aye pouted, backing him towards his desk. Akk ran into it and was forced to sit down on top as Aye settled between his legs happily. Akk swallowed hard and Aye smirked.

“Aye,” Akk warned again. Aye threw his arms around Akk and started playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Oh, come on,” he purred into Akk’s ear. “You want to. I know you do. I promise I’ll be quick.”

Akk looked towards the door, thinking about his employees on the other side who probably at least suspected what was happening, but it was after closing time anyway. They were free to leave. He looked back down at Aye and as seconds passed without Akk saying anything, Aye’s smirk widened until finally, he took Akk’s silence as permission and kissed him again. Only this time, the kiss wasn’t a greeting or an apology. It was a prelude to something.

Without once breaking their kiss, Aye unzipped Akk’s pants and began stroking him. And when Akk came, he came with Aye’s engagement ring hidden in the breast pocket of his suit jacket—right over his heart.

—

The private villa Akk had rented for them at the beach was just as beautiful as he remembered it. It was the same one they’d stayed in the last time they'd been there and the decor hadn’t changed a bit in the intervening year. It was familiar and comforting and it reminded him of a year ago when he had come here and thought he couldn’t possibly fall even more in love with the boy who came with him. He had been wrong. He hadn’t known then that the love between them would only grow. And yet here he was now, lying naked in bed next to his sleeping lover, and his heart was so full it felt like it might burst. It was a novel feeling—one he hadn’t thought he was capable of.

He had moved the ring into the nightstand as soon as they arrived, but as the waves crashed in the distance, he pulled it out to stare at it once more. In the early morning light, it shined as bright as the newly risen sun.

It occurred to Akk that if Aye was awake, he could ask him right now, surrounded by all the trappings of domesticity that he had longed for forever, but at the very thought, his stomach recoiled and he heard again Mes’s soft “Akk, I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you,” and although Mes and Aye and their situations could not be more different, it still haunted him.

He wondered if Aye suspected anything. They had talked about marriage, of course, but only in the abstract, and, in the grand scheme of things, they hadn’t actually been dating all that long. Aye was so young—marriage was likely the last thing on his mind—but Akk knew, without a doubt, that Aye was it for him. He wanted to wake up every day just like this, surrounded by sunshine and happiness and Aye for the rest of his days.

Aye rolled over next to him, slowly waking, and Akk quickly hid the ring. It took a minute for Aye to open his eyes, but once he did, he caught sight of Akk and his face lit up so brightly it was almost as if, after all this time, he had still thought Akk might be a dream. Akk's heart melted.

“Good morning,” he said, ruffling Aye’s hair.

Aye smiled and he smiled and he smiled.

—

They spent the day on the beach, lounging beneath an oversized umbrella, but when Akk got up to refill their drinks, he returned to find that Aye had disappeared. He quickly found him, however, sitting at the shoreline with a boy of maybe five or six playing in the sand at his side, demanding Aye's help building a sand castle.

Aye was shirtless, his hair an absolute mess as if he’d been dragged out from underneath the safety of their cabana by force, but Akk had no desire to rescue him. He had never seen Aye interact with a child before and watching it unfold in front of him was a goddamn revelation. He couldn’t help but imagine years from now, a child just like this—only with Aye’s mischievous smirk painted across his lips. Akk set the drinks down and then wandered towards the water to get a closer look.

“You have to wet the sand first,” Aye was saying as he approached. “Like this.” He showed the boy exactly what to do and it was only as Akk’s shadow fell over them that he realized they were being watched. He tilted his head towards Akk and smiled, his cheeks stained pink by the sun.

“Your drink is here,” Akk said, gesturing towards the cabana.

“I’ll get it in a minute,” Aye said and then nodded to the boy playing obliviously next to him. “I told Nong Jam here that I would help him dig a moat.”

Jam giggled without looking up and Akk was certainly not stupid enough to argue with a child. “Well, you and Nong Jam have fun then,” he said, leaning down to kiss the top of Aye’s head, his heart as warm as the midday sun.

When he got back to his lounge chair, the woman in the cabana next to him leaned over and said, “Thank you for letting my son steal your husband. We’ve been here a week already and I can’t build another sand castle—I just can’t. He’s good with him.”

Husband.

Akk looked down to the water where the boy was now throwing sand at Aye like snowballs and instead of getting angry, Aye laughed uproariously as if he had never had more fun. Akk found himself reaching for the ring in his bag, but he couldn’t propose to him here. Not yet. So he just laid back and watched.

—

Akk made reservations at a fancy restaurant for dinner. He hadn’t rented out a whole room like he had with Mes—turns out an eerily quiet restaurant isn’t as romantic as one might think—but he kind of liked the idea of proposing again in a similar place to where it had all gone wrong the first time. He thought it might be poetic in a way. Where one story ended, another might begin to erase the bad memories that had come before it. But when he stepped out of the shower wearing a suit he had deemed nice enough to propose in, he found that Aye had already fallen asleep.

He was laying on top of their bedsheets, still dressed in the shorts he had worn to the beach. His cheeks were adorably colored, his chest rising and falling with each breath, and he looked the very picture of relaxation. It had been a long day. In fact, it had been a long month—at least for Aye. He’d had a huge project at work that he’d only just finished and this vacation had been planned partially as a celebration of his hard work.

Akk sighed and sat down next to him on the mattress, pushing his hair out of his eyes the way a parent might do for a child. “Aye, baby,” he said. “Wake up. We need to go to dinner.”

But instead of opening his eyes, Aye just groaned and rolled over so that he was half in Akk’s lap. “Don’t want to wake up,” he mumbled.

“But—” Akk started, thinking about the ring and the restaurant, but then Aye tilted his face up, leveling Akk with the full force of his puppy dog pout, and Akk’s resolve melted away entirely.

“Can we just stay here tonight?” Aye whined. “Just the two of us? Please?”

And god, that did sound amazing. “Are you sure?” Akk asked because when he explained the situation to Aye later—that he had willfully chosen to sleep straight through his own proposal—Akk wanted to be able to remind him truthfully that he had tried to talk him out of it.

Aye nodded happily and pulled Akk down onto the bed next to him where, although Akk wasn’t the least bit tired, he held his boyfriend in his arms and fell asleep.

—

When Akk awoke the next morning, he was in bed alone. He had shed his suit sometime during the night and was now only wearing a dress shirt and underwear. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, trying to reorient himself. He hadn’t gotten far when Aye walked into the room with a giant tray of breakfast food in hand.

“Good morning!” Aye chirped.

“Jesus Christ. Did you order all of this?” Akk asked, grabbing the tray so that Aye could crawl into bed with him. He was wearing one of the silk robes that had come with the room, but he slipped it off before sliding in next to Akk.

“I was hungry,” Aye said with a shrug, plucking a grape off of the tray and popping it into his mouth. Anything they could possibly want to eat was laid out in front of them: fruit, pastries, eggs, bacon, porridge, samosas. “We skipped dinner, remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” Akk said. “I’m assuming you charged all of this to the room? Which I paid for?”

“What’s yours is mine. Right, baby?” he said, reaching out to pinch Akk’s cheeks. Akk swatted him away, but he couldn’t completely hide his smile. “Here, open up.” He had a chocolate-covered strawberry in his hand, but Akk didn’t trust him to get it into his mouth without making a mess.

“Aye,” he warned.

“Ahh,” Aye said, opening his own mouth to demonstrate what exactly he wanted Akk to do and because Akk was incapable of saying no to him, he opened his mouth and let Aye feed him.

The strawberry was sweet and it tasted like summer and as soon as Akk swallowed it, Aye grabbed his neck and kissed him full on the lips as if he wanted to taste it too.

When he pulled away, he was smiling, his lips wet, his eyes sparkling. Akk had never seen anything more beautiful. And although they had a whole day planned involving a yacht and a private island and some of the most beautiful scenery the country had on offer, Akk knew that nothing would ever beat this moment right here, laughing in bed with his best friend, no pomp, no circumstance, just the two of them against the whole world.

Akk reached out and wiped the fruit juice off of Aye’s lips with his thumb and then took him by the hand. “Marry me,” he said.

Aye rolled his eyes as if he thought it was a joke, but a blush rose heavy on his cheeks. “Yeah, sure, okay. Eat your strawberries.”

“I’m serious,” Akk said, but he could see on Aye’s face that he still wasn’t entirely sure whether to believe him. Akk squeezed his hand once and then let it go so that he could reach over the side of the bed and pick his suit jacket off of the floor. He reached into the pocket, pulled out the ring box, and then presented it to Aye, who stared at it, eyes wide. “Aye, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you please marry me?”

Aye looked from Akk to the ring and back again, then reached over and removed it carefully from the box. “Is this real?” he asked, turning it over in his hand and Akk thought he should probably be frustrated at Aye for doubting him, he wasn’t. Instead, he found it endearing.

“Aye,” Akk prompted fondly. “If you could please answer me, I would really appreciate it.”

Aye looked up, still in shock, but he seemed to have finally accepted that whatever this was, it was real. “You really want to marry me?” he asked, voice soft.

“I really want to marry you,” Akk answered. He had never been more sure about anything.

For several seconds, Aye just sat there, soaking it in, but then his face broke into a wild grin and he lunged across the bed to hug Akk, knocking the breakfast tray and all of its contents to the floor. Neither of them cared.

“Of course I will marry you, Akk. Oh my god!” He placed smacking kisses all over Akk’s face and probably would have continued to do so if Akk hadn’t stopped him just long enough to take the ring from his hand and slip it onto his finger instead. It fit perfectly.

“Mine,” Akk said, looking his fiancé straight in the eyes. His heart overflowed.

“Yours,” Aye agreed. And then he kissed him and he didn’t stop kissing him for a very long time.

Later, as they lay next to each other in bed, food and clothing still scattered on the floor, Aye rested his head on Akk’s chest with his hand stretched out in front of him, staring at the ring that was finally his.

“You weren’t expecting it, were you?” Akk asked.

Aye shook his head, his smile growing wider. “I always thought I would be the one who had to propose. I wasn’t sure you had it in you.”

Akk rolled his eyes. “Are you disappointed?” he asked.

“No," Aye admitted with a shrug. "I kind of like being spoiled.”

“You don’t say.”

Eventually, Aye let his hand fall back onto Akk’s chest where it settled right over his heart. Aye nuzzled closer to him, his nose cold, but his body deliciously warm.

“Never take it off, okay?” Akk asked.

Aye smiled against his skin, clearly pleased. “Whatever you say, Boss.”

And there, staring down at the man who would one day become his husband, he found the perfect moment he had been waiting for all along and he knew that his heart was now tucked safely in Aye’s chest where it would stay, cherished and protected, forevermore.

#chapter 1 from aye's pov is next i promise!#business or pleasure fic #asks #sarah writes things

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tiffdawg · 3 years

Text

Curriculum Vitae: Chapter Fifteen

Gif: @bestintheparsec

curriculum vitae noun cur·ric·u·la vi·tae Latin. the course of one’s life.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 7.0k

Rated: E | Warnings: NSFW – explicit sexual content, sex, public sex, oral sex (female receiving), cumplay, dirty talk. Mentions of alcohol. Mild language. 18+ only.

Chapter Summary: In this chapter, you and Javier attend the holiday party for the social sciences’ faculty.

A/N: I really risked it all for y’all just to login and post this. I still haven’t seen the finale so I’m going to drop this and run but I’d love to know what you think. I hope this chapter makes the extra-long wait worth it.

Read on AO3

CV Masterlist | My Masterlist

… . …

Chapter Fifteen

Unsurprisingly, things were tense the next morning

Javier was up before you but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. Although considering it was a quarter past seven you wondered how much sleep the man could’ve gotten. What was surprising was that you woke alone.

Then you ate breakfast together in silence. Moved about your 400 square foot studio in silence. Worked across the dining table grading papers in silence.

Javier was never an overly talkative person but that was unlike him. It was unlike the two of you. You knew there were things from his past that troubled him. Things you couldn’t even begin to imagine. The longer you’d known him, the more time you spent together, the more you felt his sadness. But he seemed determined to hide it from you.

However, you couldn’t dwell on it. Not until you’d finished grading exams and assigned final grades and could put the fall quarter behind you. With a Monday deadline, work came first.

Eventually, Javier finished his grading. He gathered his things to go home and dress for the faculty party that evening, leaving you with just a kiss on your cheek and a promise to pick you up at six. You hummed noncommittally as you watched him leave.

Sunny whined at the closed door before looking over her shoulder at you with a silent question in her wide brown eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong either,” you answered with a shrug. She laid down where she was, head on her paws and a rather sad expression of her face.

… . …

By some miracle, you were able to focus long enough to finish your grading with enough time to spare to get ready for a night out. At 5:58 you walked out of your building into the dark evening and found Javier waiting for you at the bottom of the stoop. It was a chilly night and you pulled your wool coat tighter around you as you closed the last bit of distance between the two of you. For the first time that day, as he held his hand out to you, he smiled. It was nothing more than a slight pull at the corner of his lips, but it was something.

You took his hand and let him lead you toward his car. When he reached into his coat pocket, presumably in search of his keys, he pulled out a half-finished pack of Nicorette. He tossed it in a nearby trash can.

“Why did you do that?” you asked without thinking.

He shrugged as he unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. “I don’t need it.”

You made no move to get in. “I thought you were trying to quit.”

“I… I did.”

“Really?” you asked, not bothering to hide your excitement.

“I haven’t needed it for a couple of weeks now actually.”

“Javi, that’s amazing,” you smiled as you brought him to you for a kiss by the lapels of his coat. “I’m so proud of you.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re proud of me?”

“Yeah,” you said easily. He still didn’t seem to believe you. You continued tentatively, afraid you might say the wrong thing but needing to say something all the same. “Sometimes I just– I feel like I don’t actually know that much about you. Or, I should say, about your past. And I don’t need to know anything more than what you want to tell me,” you added quickly. “But I see you. I see you trying to be a better man. Everyday.” Your hands moved on their own accord to cup his freshly shaved cheeks. “I’m proud of you. Even if you think it’s silly.”

“I–” Javier opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t manage more than that single syllable.

Instead, he stared at you. You might’ve crossed some unspoken line, but you didn’t care. You’d meant everything that you said. His eyes shifted away as he stared at something past you for a drawn-out moment. “Come here,” he finally managed, and he pulled you into his embrace. The two of you held each other in the middle of the sidewalk, letting the few people out and about walk around you. “You’re too good for me, compañera.”

“I know,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. His fingers dug into your sides and you laughed. “Are we going to talk about what happened last night?”

He sighed heavily. “I’d rather have one good night with you before I leave. I’m not going to see you for more than two weeks.”

Deciding not to question it, you put it out of your mind. Maybe what happened was a one off. Still, you pulled back and scowled at him. “Then stop being such a….”

“An asshole?”

“Exactly.”

He huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes but nodded his agreement. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You gonna make it up to me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got plans for you tonight.”

A chill shot down your spine at the insinuation. “Good,” you smirked, “so do I.”

… . …

The country club was only a short drive past the university and up into the hills amongst rows of gated mansions. Slipping out of the car before the valet approached, you darted in ahead of Javier. The bubble that the two of you were living in still didn’t extend to work, not entirely. Not beyond fucking in your offices and occasionally brushing hands under the table at faculty meetings.

Inside, the already gilded ballroom was draped in silver and gold holiday decorations from ceiling to floor. Every inch sparkled and shone in the chandelier light. Your colleagues from across the school of social sciences crowed the hall, all dressed to the nines with glasses of champagne and hors-d’œuvre topped with caviar in their hands.

You politely made your rounds before you found yourself conversing with Debra by the bar as you waited for a cocktail. She was her usual gossipy self, going on and on about the latest office drama. That was when you first spotted Javier amongst the crowd.

He wore a well-fitted black suit – one that was significantly more flattering than some of his older ones and you idly wondered if it was new – with a white shirt, forgoing a tie so that his tanned chest was still exposed, even on a winter night. His dark hair was styled just enough to keep it off his face. Even from across the room, you could see the glimmer in his warm brown eyes as he chatted away with someone. You were surprised when he walked right up to Rafael Garcia, one of the younger professors from the political science department. You watched as they shook hands and he was introduced to his wife, noting the genuine smile on his face.

“We just started seeing each other a couple of weeks ago but it’s going well so far. I really like him.” Deb’s voice brought you back to the present.

“That’s nice,” you replied absentmindedly.

“What about you, doc?”

“What? Oh, no. I don’t have time for something like that.” You waved her off, but your eyes still followed Javier across the room. You tried to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach.

“That’s a shame.” Debra looked out at the crowd and sighed. “He never flirts with me. Not anymore, at least.”

“Your new boyfriend?”

“No,” she laughed and smacked your shoulder playfully. “Javier,” she answered, lowering her voice.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Although you hoped it wasn’t that obvious who you’d been looking at. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. And don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“Sure, but Javier was always fun to flirt with. It certainly made work more interesting. You know,” she took a sip of her martini, “the two of you seem awfully friendly lately. I thought you hated him.”

“I do,” you answered quickly.

“Well, don’t let Dr. Campbell hear you speak ill about his favorite lecturer.” She raised her brows over her class as the department chair approached the two of you. You stifled a sigh.

… . …

Javier sipped at his drink as he listened to Sofia Garcia regal him with the story of how she met her husband. He’d hardly spoken to the man before than night, but after five minutes with his loquacious wife, he felt like he knew his whole life story.

“I played on the Mexican women’s national team for a few years after college until I injured my knee. But it was a blessing. I was offered a coaching position here a week later and by the end of my first season we were engaged.” She held up her left hand where a modest diamond sat on her ring finger. “That was nearly fifteen years ago. Now he’s the only one who plays soccer.”

“Yeah,” Rafael scoffed, “I play in an adult league with my cousin and some old college friends. That hardly counts. She’s the real athlete.” He looked fondly on his wife who beamed back at him. Even Javier had to admit they made a handsome couple. And it had nothing to do with his expensive looking suit or her champagne dress. It was something about the way they looked at each other. they were easily better conversationalists than most of the people in that room. You weren’t kidding when you said academics only knew how to talk about journal articles and research funding. “You ever play, Peña? We’re actually looking for one more.”

Javier shook his head. “I played when I was a kid but that was a long fucking time ago.”

“Don’t worry, man, it’s not that serious. We drink the whole game. All you gotta do is pay for the keg when it’s your turn.”

Javier laughed, surprised by his answer. “I could get on board with that.”

The conversation moved on, but Javier was only half aware of whatever question he was being asked. Just over Rafael’s shoulder, he caught sight of you. With a red dress with thin straps draped across your form that left everything and nothing to the imagination, you looked… alluring.

“Hey, uh, you look like you could use a refill,” Rafael commented, pointing toward the bar where you were standing.

“Yeah,” Javier nodded, “I’ll catch you later. Nice meeting you, Sofia.”

“I hope to see you around, Javier.” She smiled kindly at him, but Javier was already on the move, swiftly cutting through the crowd as he contemplated the ways that he could get you alone.

“Whiskey. Dry,” he ordered, leaning against the bar next to you.

“How are you enjoying the evening, Professor Peña?” Debra simpered.

“Much better now that I’m talking to you lovely ladies,” he answered without missing a beat.

On cue, Debra’s whole face flushed bright red.

“I’ll have you know I’m spoken for now. Your charm won’t work on me anymore.”

“That’s too bad.” His eyes slid to you. And then up and down your body. “What about you, sweetheart?” He offered you the perfect set up on a silver platter. And you took it.

“Not in your wildest dreams, Peña,” you shot back. His lips quirked as he repressed a smile.

“Don’t you two ever get tired of antagonizing each other?” Debra scoffed before traipsing off. He was hoping that would work.

The bartender placed Javier’s drink on the counter and then he turned back to you, still admiring your dress. Now that he was near you, he noticed the fabric was a soft red velvet he wanted nothing more than to get his hands on.

“You looked like you were enjoying your conversation with Rafael.”

“He does some interesting work on South American politics,” he offered distractedly, his eyes snapped back up to yours. “I probably shouldn’t ask you to dance.”

You reeled back a little, as if the question surprised you. “Probably not. That might ruin the whole facade of me hating you.” He made a sour face as he looked at his glass in his hand, swirling the amber liquid a few times. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the dancing type, Javi.”

He grinned. “I love dancing.”

“You never take me dancing.”

“Fucking shame. I’m gonna start.” You beamed at him, uncaring, just for a moment, who saw. It was a smile nothing short of dazzling. He took a step closer. “You look stunning.”

“You drove me here.”

“I thought you were stunning then too. But you were wearing a coat and I didn’t get to see this.” He ran the back of his knuckles down the fabric of your dress just over that sensitive spot on your side he liked so much. “You were right. This is definitely worth it.”

“What if I told you there’s more,” you said unaffectedly, feigning interest in your empty glass. The mischievous look in your eyes when they met his confused expression gave you away. Gently, you brought his hand to your thigh, just under the hem of your dress, and his fingers instantly hooked around the strap of the garter belt holding your sheer stockings in place.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“What a way to go,” you cooed. His hand traveled up the strap to the apex of your thighs where he found little more than a thin piece of lace below the belt. “Careful,” you warned him, pushing his hand away.

Turning so that his body pinned you between him and the bar top and shielded you from the rest of your colleagues, he grasped your hand and brought it to the front of his pants “Can you feel what you do to me?” he said against the shell of your ear.

“That’s what I was hoping for.” Your smile was absolutely wicked.

“Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is not to kiss you right now?”

“Yes.” You squeezed him through his trousers. Javier might’ve looked remarkably calm, but he knew you felt his reaction. He steeled himself as he finished his drink and set the glass on the counter behind you.

“Follow me.”

… . …

Keeping a few steps behind him, you followed Javier back to the front of the club. You assumed he was leading you out to the car but apparently, he had something else in mind. He swung open the door to the coat check, since abandoned by the clerk now that all the guests had arrived and the party was in full swing. With some idea of what he had in mind, you hoped no one was inclined to leave early.

His mouth was on yours in an instant and as soon as the door was shut, you were pressed up against it.

“The coat closet at the holiday work party?” you asked in between fevered kisses. “Isn’t that a little cliché?”

“Honey,” he murmured against your neck as his lips moved lower and lower, “I know for a fact it turns you on when we fuck in public.”

His hand slipped underneath your dress again, following the same path as earlier, and he pressed his fingers against the lace covering your cunt, now soaked with your arousal. He pulled away to raise a brow at you, daring you to contradict him.

Instead, you palmed him again, finding him harder than before. “I’m not the only one,” you shot back. With your eyes locked on his, you dropped to your knees to loosen his belt and unbutton his trousers. Then you leaned forward to slowly pull the zip down – with your teeth.

“Fuck me” he gasped around a ragged exhale, his hips automatically bucking toward you. He watched you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, before he hauled you to your feet with a hand on either arm. “Fucking dirty girl.”

“Wanna be your dirty girl, Javi,” you sighed, batting your lashes at him. You wanted him unraveled and unrestrained.

“Yeah?” he asked with a hint of excitement in his voice, and you nodded, satisfied with the response you’d gotten from him. Before you realized what he was doing, he spun you around and hiked your skirt up over your ass, letting it bunch around your waist.

“Hey, be careful. This dress is vintage.”

He just laughed against your ear. “You should’ve thought of that before you started this.” With one hand on your hip to hold you up, he kicked each of your ankles to prompt you to spread your legs before hooking a finger under the band of your thong and sliding them to the side. “Damn,” he growled when his fingers met your wet cunt. “I think you’re ready for me.”

“I was ready for you the moment I saw you tonight,” you answered truthfully.

You felt his grin as he kissed the nape of your neck. He freed his cock and ran the tip through your folds. You knew better than to tell him not to tease you. That was part of it. That was what he enjoyed. He wanted you so strung out by the time he slipped inside you that you were already a mess and he knew just how to get you there. And that was exactly where you wanted to go.

He started to press inside you, slowly stretching you around him with each inch, and you delighted in the slight burn. Usually, he spent more time preparing you, but there was no time for that. Not when you were just hoping to finish fucking each other before someone came to collect their belongings.

You were wet and ready for him, but you were unable to stop the yelp that escaped you as he pushed in a little further.

“Quiet,” he snapped. Then, softly, he asked, “are you okay?”

You nodded. “It just takes a minute sometimes. You’re so big, Javi.” You felt him twitch inside you.

“You take me so well. This cunt was made for me.” Your ego burned bright at his praise and he slid in a bit more as you relaxed around him.

He held you, gently caressing you while you adjusted in what you assumed was a merciful act of patience. When you were ready, you rolled your hips to encourage him.

“Keep – shit – keep doing that. Feels so good on my dick.” You could imagine the debauched look on his face. You reveled in it even though you couldn’t see him. He reached around you to cup your pussy, fingers rubbing against your clit and following your movements as you circled your hips. You moaned in unison.

But it wasn’t enough. Not for you. Not for Javier.

“Hold on to something.”

His warning came just a moment too late. With a gasp, you fell forward clawing at the coats in front of you and fisting an expensive looking black peacoat in hopes of staying upright as he set a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck yes!” you whined.

“Are you even trying to stay quiet?” Javier hissed.

“Yes,” you replied weakly.

“Fucking liar.” You heard the smirk.

The hand playing with your clit moved to your mouth and he slipped two fingers past your lips. It effectively muffled your noises of pleasure as he pulled you down hard on his cock with every thrust. The only sound was the wet noise of him sliding in and out of your slick cunt and the slap of your stocking-covered thighs as they bounced against his. You felt that delicious pressure deep in your belly, right between your thighs, building steadily.

Until you heard a noise just outside the door and the two of you froze.

Without pulling out of you, Javier held you to his chest. As if that would somehow help. You could feel his heart beating against your back just as your own threatened to break through your ribs. Two sets of wide eyes watched the doorknob, waiting for any sign that someone on the other side was about to turn it. You held your breath as you listened carefully to the low voices murmuring, unable to tell who they belonged to or what they were saying. It was like they were hovering just outside the door. Taunting you.

Just as you were about to suggest redressing and making a run for it, Javier started moving in and out of you as a torturously slow pace. Despite the voices nearby, a small whimper escaped you. He shushed you gently. “Quiet, baby,” he whispered.

“But–”

“You wanted this.”

“Javi–”

“You wouldn’t have worn this” –he fingered the garter belt– “if you didn’t want to end up just like this.”

He was right, of course.

“What if–”

“I’m not going to let that happen.” You had no idea what he thought he was going to do if someone did catch the two of you, but he seemed confident enough for the both of you. Coupled with the easy rock of his hips, you relaxed into his hold. The truth was, as much as you liked the freedom of your home, you missed this. This thrill that you trusted only him to give you.

As soon as the conversation faded away, he resumed his previous pace, punching the air right out of your lungs.

“Yes! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chanted, forgetting the precarious situation you were in only moments ago. The coil in your belly tightened as you neared your crest, and you could tell by his less than precise movements that Javier just as close. And then, right as you were about to fall apart on his cock–

Javier pulled out and spun you back around in one swift movement. Before you even knew what was happening, he yanked down your panties and came all over you. Jaw dropping, you watched him work his length until every last drop was on you. White spurts of cum marked you and pooled in the black lace, already dripping down your thighs to the tops of your stockings. You placed a hand on either of his shoulders to steady yourself as your legs threatened to give out under you and stared down at the mess. Somehow, you were more turned on than before. You felt like you would actually combust from arousal. He held your panties in place for a moment, admiring his work, before letting the elastic snap against your skin and drawing your attention upward.

His breaths were jagged, stuttering and uneven. His head tilted back, and he looked down his nose at you with dark eyes that shone with something feral. Something sacrilegious. He was flushed and panting but a smirk tugged on his lips as he tucked his cock away and belted his pants. “You said you wanted to be my dirty girl.”

You swore you could feel your last brain cell short-circuiting. You were hyperaware of the errant drop sliding down your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from him. “Always,” you promised quietly.

You kissed him with everything you had. Javier took it greedily.

“You’re so good for me. Letting me cum all over you,” he said breathlessly, still kissing you. “I want you to keep it all in your panties so that while you’re out there talking to those pretentious professors you can feel my cum between your legs. Okay?” You nodded and he graciously straightened your dress, letting it fall over your messy thighs. “You first.”

“But I didn’t–”

“Only good girls get to cum,” he replied quickly, apparently knowing exactly what you were going to say.

“Javi,” you scolded breathlessly and pointlessly, “I– I am your good girl.”

“Not tonight. You can’t keep quiet. Do you want everyone we work with to know I’m fucking you in this god damn coat closet?” You shook your head. “Don’t worry, honey, this was just foreplay. I’m not done with you yet. Tonight, I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard you’re screaming my name at the top of your lungs. I can’t do that here, but I can get you ready.”

Your head buzzed.

Some filthy part of you liked that he’d cum all over you. That he wanted to do that to you. You didn’t even need to cum because it’d felt that good. And you knew by the look in his eyes that he planned on making up for leaving you wanting, for making a mess of you. You instinctively understood that this was part of it. That even greater pleasure waited for you if you could just be patient and... and trust him. And you did trust him. You knew he would take care of you.

If this was going to be your last night together for weeks — after hardly spending a night apart the last month and a half — then this was just the start.

“Okay,” you agreed. “But you’re a fucking tease, Javier Peña.”

He laughed with genuine mirth in his eyes. “You started it.”

“I’ll finish it,” you promised.

“I’m looking forward to that.”

You hesitated, teasing your bottom lip with your teeth. “Do we really have to go back out there?”

“It would be rude to leave so early.” You knew he didn’t care about staying. He was just tormenting you, playing a fucked-up game that had your head spinning like crazy. “But don’t worry. Eventually, I’ll take you home and fill you up. Just the way you like it. Now be a good girl” he said with a swat on your ass, “and go out first.”

Feeling defiant, you turned around and planted a kiss on his neck, purposefully leaving a smudge of red lipstick on his crisp white collar.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

“Maybe I do want everyone to know your mine.”

He wiped away the lipstick he smeared when he stuck his fingers in your mouth with the pad of his thumb. “You know. That’s all I care about.”

… . …

The two of you didn’t make it another hour. Fifty-two minutes to be exact. Javier knew because he kept checking his watch only to decide that time had crept to a halt. He wanted nothing more than to take you home and finish what he’d started. Every time he glanced at you across the room, he found you squirming as you tried to keep a straight face while chatting with some colleague, and he had to look away and recompose himself.

It hadn’t been his intention to leave you wet and wanting and covered in his cum. It’d just happened in the heat of the moment. Some wild idea that he’d decided to act on. But you… you’d liked it. And so did Javier.

In reality, fifty-two minutes wasn’t that long, but it was enough time to suck up to the school’s dean. If Javier was going to be put on display as his prized lecturer for the year, he’d make him listen to him in return. Even if he had to turn up the fake charm to a ten in front of a group of wealthy alumni.

“Here she is now,” Javier said, taking a hold of your elbow as you passed by, physically dragging you into the conversation. You shot him a confused look, but he just smiled at the dean.

“Ah, yes, professor,” Dean Dalton started, “It would seem you’ve made quite the impression on Agent Peña.”

Javier elected to ignore his choice of title.

“Really? I wasn’t aware.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but he could tell you were happy.

“I’ve had the privilege of reading a few chapters of her upcoming book,” Javier explained. “Trust me, you’ll want to see what she’s planning next.”

“As luck would have it, I’ve been talking to a few of our more generous donors tonight. Perhaps we should meet when classes resume to discuss how the school might be able to help your research.” The dean clinked his glass against yours and ambled off.

“What did you just do?” you asked, disbelief lacing your voice.

“I told you I would help you.”

“Oh my God… thank you,” you said softly. You stared at him for a long moment and he just held your gaze. “Will you take you home now?”

“Yes.”

Without wasting another second, you turned on your heel and headed toward the entrance. He followed eagerly. “Wait.” You stopped suddenly and his chest hit your back. You peered at him over your shoulder. “Don’t forget our tradition.”

He quirked a brow in silent question and your eyes flicked to the bar in response. It clicked. “Got it,” he said with a grin. He swiped the first bottle of champagne he could reach. Something so expensive he couldn’t even imagine the price tag. Something neither of you could ever afford on an academic salary.

… . …

Javier drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your knee, drawing circles on your thigh over the sheer material covering your skin. Late on a chilly December night, the streets were empty, and the drive was easy. The city was unusually peaceful.

“I still can’t believe you pulled that off,” you murmured dreamily. He squeezed your knee in response.

A few minutes later, he’d stopped at a light when you quietly said his name. He turned to you and found you staring at him. You looked relaxed and happy. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you how handsome you look tonight. All dressed up for me,” you offered sweetly. “You’re absolutely breathtaking.”

“How much did you have to drink?” he deflected.

“One drink hours ago. Nice try, but I’m sober.” You laughed but your teasing tone gave way to something softer. “You really are the most beautiful man.”

In his periphery, the light changed, bathed the inside of the car in a bright green light. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your beautiful face. Not when such an open, vulnerable sincerity graced your features.

“The light’s green,” you whispered.

“I know.”

A small smile broke out on your face.

… . …

Behind you, Javier trailed soft, lazy kisses along the slope of your neck as he slowly unzipped your dress, letting it hang loose around you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he smoothed his hands down your exposed back, thumbs gently digging into your flesh to massage your tired muscles. Every kiss, every touch, stoked the fire he’d ignited inside you hours ago.

“Let it fall,” he murmured against your skin. You slipped the straps over your shoulders and the fabric pooled at your feet. Then you reached for the clasp of your bra. “Leave it. I’ll take it off when I want to.” You bit back a devilish smile as he continued his ministrations. His lips followed his hands down your spine, and you gasped when he placed a kiss on the small of your back.

“Can’t decide how I want you first,” he mused.

“I want your mouth on me.”

He kneaded the flesh of your ass as he placed the lightest kiss on one cheek. “It is.”

“Not there.”

At your complaint, he snapped the garter belt strap so it stung against your flesh. But a firm hand on your back urged you forward until you were kneeling on the bed and he mouthed your cunt through the lace. “Here?” he asked, voice muffled.

“Yes,” you moaned, desperate for more.

“Maybe I should clean the mess I made on your pussy.” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the fabric away and sealed his mouth over your hot, wet core, drawing an inarticulate slew of curses from you.

Hands gripping the backs of your thighs right at the tops of your stockings, he alternated between sucking on your clit, teasing the little bundle of nerves between his lips, and fucking you with his tongue. The constantly changing pressure was as intoxicating as it was frustrating — it was never enough but plenty to keep you hovering right on the cusp.

Until he finally – finally – gave you what you needed most.

Holding a steady pace as he flicked his tongue over your clit, Javier pushed you right over the edge.

Unable to breath, unable to move, unable to even think, you sobbed, cunt still pulsing around nothing, when he unceremoniously flipped you over and entered you. He slid into your dripping heat easily. And somehow, your first orgasm rolled right into the second as his cock struck something magic inside you, sparking a whole new wave of pleasure.

“You can’t stop coming, can you?” he asked, grunting as he pounded into you.

It just kept going. And going. Wave after wave relentlessly rolling through you. Unceasing in the best way imaginable. Javier knew your body so fucking well. He was the only one who knew how to do this to you. “No,” you mewled deliriously, body still shaking under him.

He thumbed away a tear rolling down your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. His hand left your face to knead a lace covered breast. “You look so fucking hot.”

“Fuck me harder, Javi.”

He pulled out all the way and your hips lifted, chasing him, but he pushed your knees to your chest and shouldered between your legs. “You’re not going to be able to walk when I’m done with you.”

“Good. I wanna feel you for days.” you said, ignoring the pang in your heart that told you that you were going to miss him.

“Fuck,” he spat. Your cunt drenched his cock as he slipped back inside, and your breath hitched as he hit deeper at the new angle.

“Right there!” you cried, arching up against him, “oh, God, right there!”

“One more. Give me one more,” Javier demanded, lacing your fingers together and pining your hands above your head, “But not until I tell you.”

You nodded eagerly, happy to give him whatever he wanted. “I get to tell you when too. Please, Javi.”

“Whatever you want baby. You fucking earned it.”

He kept slamming into you and every stroke of his cock rubbed against your inner walls perfectly. You swore you could almost feel every ridge and every vein of his thick length as he fucked you. Your third orgasm was tantalizingly within reach. You just needed his blessing, and you’d break.

“Alright, baby,” he panted as he rocked his hips against yours, grinding his pelvis against your clit, “cum all over my cock.”

Just like that, that tight coil inside you he’d been winding up all night snapped, and you came for a third time with a wanton cry. His name tumbled from your lips repeatedly as your body writhed beneath him, cunt spasming around his cock.

“I need to cum,” he ground out, voice cutting through the haze of pleasure.

“Ask me nicely,” you teased when your senses had returned to you just enough that you decided it was your turn to play with Javier. You wanted it to be just as good for him as he made it for you.

“Please.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Baby, please.” Javier’s broken words trembling around the edges as he begged you. His brown eyes, eclipsed by his dilated pupils and wet around the edges, stared deeply into yours and you almost gave in.

“Don’t stop.”

He made a desperate sound but kept going, snapping his hips against yours harder and harder.

“Almost there, Javi. You’re doing so good for me,” you praised, encouraging him. His jaw clenched and you kissed his neck, sucking hard on the straining muscles. His hands gripped yours so tight it hurt, and his face screwed up as he panted with each thrust. “You can cum for me, Javi. Fill me up.”

His lips crashed against yours in a desperate gratitude, and his hips stuttered as he came hard. He gasped for breath even as your mouths moved messily together. His cock twitched inside you as he painted your cunt like you’d been patiently waiting for all evening, until his body gave out and he collapsed on top of you, still locked in an embrace.

“Was that good for you?” you asked. When you didn’t get an answer, you prodded his side. He startled, eyes suddenly blinking up at you.

“What?”

“I asked if that was good for you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that was... it’s always good with you but that was...” He trailed off and you thought he might’ve actually fallen asleep on you. “I’ve never cum so hard in my life. I think I fucking blacked out.”

“I didn’t know my pussy was that good.”

“Are you kidding me? I fucking love your pussy.” He was positively beaming at you. He cursed with a sigh as he laid his head back on your chest and you threaded your fingers through his damp locks, holding him close while you could.

… . …

You sat half in Javier’s lap in the middle of your bed, sheets strewn about from your previous activities, both completely naked but freshly showered. He moved his mouth against yours, tasting you, drinking you in until he was as lightheaded from your kisses as from the champagne. His hands roamed your body, touching you for no real reason other than to memorize your gentle curves. One hand cupped a breast and the other squeezed your hip, both moving slowly until they met to cradle your face.

He pulled away to look at you. No fancy dress, no jewelry, no make-up. Just you.

“Still stunning,” he whispered.

You smiled softly and pressed your lips to the bridge of his nose. “Still handsome,” you countered. Chills erupted across his skin, but you mistook his reaction. “Come here.” you pulled the blankets up as you settled back against the headboard. He followed, swiping the bottle of champagne off the nightstand. Without bothering with glasses, surely a disservice to something so expensive, he took a swig and handed it to you. It was bubbly and light and perfect for the evening.

“You never told me what you’re doing for the holidays.”

“Oh, nothing much,” you responded as you took the bottle from him. “Bev’s family celebrates Christmas. They always do gifts with the kids in the morning but then her mom and in-laws and whoever else in the family is around go over for a big dinner. She insists I come to keep her sane. Her mom and mother-in-law don’t exactly get along.”

“What about New Year’s?”

You took a long pull before sighing. “Well, I usually spend the night with Sunny watching old movies and drinking too much wine.” Your face pinched. “That sounds much sadder when I say it out loud.”

“You don’t mind being alone?”

“It’s been this way for years now.” You smiled, a rueful thing. “I’m used to it. I’m usually so tired after the quarter ends that I don’t mind the time alone.” You tried to brush it off, but he could hear the sadness in your voice.

“You could–” Javier stopped himself. “You could call. Anytime. I’ll give you my dad’s home number so you can reach me.”

That time your smile reached your eyes, crinkling the corners as you looked away bashfully. “That’s really sweet of you.” You reached for his hand and added, “I’ll call you at midnight in Laredo.”

“We’ll talk until midnight in Los Angeles.”

You curled up next to him before Javier could decipher your expression.

When he felt your breathing even out, surely sated from the sex and exhausted after the quarter, he pried the bottle from your grasp. He finished the last bit before setting it aside and switching off the lamp, careful not to disturb you.

Javier held you close, not unlike the way you’d held him the night before. He knew he needed to get his shit together. He didn’t want you to see that part of him. He needed to protect you from his past. But he didn’t know how to do that when he couldn’t even protect himself.

He flicked off the light and hoped for a peaceful sleep.

… . …

The first thing you noticed when you woke up the next morning was the dark bruise that you’d sucked onto Javier’s neck the night before. You ran your fingertips over it, outwardly cringing but inwardly, well, preening. This time it had been you who left those little love bites on his neck.

“Did you mark me?” he asked, his voice barely more than a quiet rumble. “Fucking felt that last night.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you answered, looking up at him as innocently as possible.

“Don’t lie to me,” he grumbled as his eyes blinked open. “You were a woman determined last night.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I liked it,” he grinned, but it faded quickly. “I forgot I was going home today. My dad’s picking me up at the airport.”

“Oh shit,” you laughed, burying your face against his chest.

“Don’t laugh. That’s not funny.”

“Maybe you should try buttoning your shirt like a normal person for once.”

In one smooth movement, he flipped you over and caged you beneath him. “You’re pushing your luck,” he tried to warn, but the grin on his face and the glint in his eyes betrayed him.

“What time is your flight?” you asked, soothing a hand across his face.

“One.” He glanced over at the clock. “It’s ten now.”

You wondered, just for a moment, if he would stay with you if you asked him to. If he would pass the holidays with you so you wouldn’t have to be alone. But that was foolish. And more than a little selfish. He had his family to go home to.

“You should probably go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I should.”

He eased his hold on you but made no move to leave. Not until he’d placed a kiss on your lips and one on your forehead in a gentle goodbye.

... . ...

Thank you for reading! 💗

Forever Tags: @leo-moon @readsalot73 @frietiemeloen @huliabitch @jerusomeeno @benedrylcumbersnatch @b0n-chann @scapricciatello @liadamerondjarin @pedropasscals @paintballkid711 @mistermiraclee @honeyand-roses

Curriculum Vitae Tags: @softpedropascal @roxypeanut @unstoppableforcce @technicallykawaiisoul @mrsparknuts @weirdowithnobeardo @seeking-a-great--perhaps @assultsofthought @arrowswithwifi @larakasser @romewritingshop @none-of-your-bullshit @the-bird-suit @magneticbucky @bbygrgu @luminarahan @buckstaposition @grapemama @emzd34 @itsilvermorny

Javier: @wander-lustbabe

Tag lists are always open.

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #narcos #narcos fanfic #javier peña x you #fic: curriculum vitae

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theislehoney · 4 years

Text

purple nights (wwx/lwj, modern au)

In late October, by the time the bookstore closes at eight, the sun has been down for hours and the streets of the university town are filled with early drinkers and the glow of streetlights. Across the street, the lights of the university are warm and steady, filling the space between the cragged oaks and the night sky. Pedestrians fill the sidewalk, walking in clumps large and small, and laughter filters through the wide glass windows of the bookstore. Only a few ever glance over to see Lan Zhan standing there, basking in the hollow silence of a shop emptied out just after closing.

The last customer to leave let in a gust of damp, chilled air, and though the street shimmers silver with every passing set of headlights, the night is grim. It has been raining all afternoon. Lan Zhan does not relish the thought of the long walk to the parking garage where he left his car.

With half the lights in the bookstore off, the shelves are filled with shadows. Lan Zhan is the last one left tonight, and he is just finishing the last accounting of the register when the front door groans and he looks up, surprised to see a figure in black stepping inside. The man carries a black umbrella, which he folds and shakes out over the mats by the door. Nonetheless, droplets scatter across the tiles.

"We close at eight," Lan Zhan snaps, too footsore after his shift to bother with niceties. He could have sworn he'd locked the front door behind the last customer, but he must have forgotten.

The man looks over at him, and though he wears a black mask over the lower half of his face and his hair is hidden by a floppy hat, there is something familiar there. It tugs at Lan Zhan.

"I know," he says, and there is something about the folds of his eyes that suggests that he is smiling.

He leans the umbrella against the wall and strides over. He reaches up—one hand to his head and the other to his ear, to remove both hat and mask in a single, fluid motion. He drops the items into the counter and leans forward, chin in his hands.

He really is grinning, the kind of smile that leaves Lan Zhan dizzy, and which he hasn't seen in months.

"Even for me, Lan Zhan?"

Lan Zhan stares, forces himself to blink. "Wei Ying."

"That's me!"

Wei Ying is dazzling. Lan Zhan hasn’t seen him in months, his idol schedule keeping him constantly booked and traveling the world. He texts Lan Zhan constantly, peppering his grammatically obscene conversations with selfies and photos of whatever distant landscape is is traveling through, but he did not send Lan Zhan even one text letting him know that he would be in town tonight. Lan Zhan glances over at his phone to be sure, but the notifications are blank -- Wei Ying has not texted, or called, or said anything at all.

His confusion must show.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Wei Ying murmurs. He reaches across the counter, where a thousand customers have slid their books today, and yet the gesture feels illicit. He lays his hand on top of Lan Zhan’s. His fingers are cool. “Don’t be mad at me.”

Did he come right from his last shoot? Lan Zhan’s thoughts are wild as he takes in the sight of Wei Ying. He is beautiful and otherworldly, his makeup glittering even under fluorescent lights. His eyelids shimmer gold and a tint of pink clings to his lips. Little cut stones have been affixed, a row directly beneath each eye, and they sparkle like diamonds every time Wei Ying blinks. His nails have been done as well, trimmed and painted silver, and someone has glued little charms to the nails of three of his fingers, little dangling stars and chains which catch the light and dance with his movements. The sight of him knocks the breath from Lan Zhan.

"Not mad.” He wants to climb over the counter and wrap his arms around Wei Ying. He wants to run his thumb across the jewels beneath Wei Ying’s eyes and lick the gloss from his lips. He settles for turning his hand over to touch Wei Ying properly. “When did you arrive?" he asks.

"About an hour ago. We wrapped the video shoot early and I hopped right on the plane, which was dumb because I'm now I’m totally lagged and my legs are dead but I couldn’t resist because I have a whole weekend off—did you hear that, Lan Zhan, a whole three day weekend—and I wasn’t going to spend it cooped up in some shitty hotel room waiting for the next shoot and thinking about-—"

Lan Zhan has always been weak to Wei Ying. He pulls himself forward and across the scuffed counter; he grasps Wei Ying’s jacket and hauls him forward so that they both gasp. He kisses Wei Ying. It is instinctual. Once Wei Ying starts, he can go on and on until he doesn't remember where he started. Lan Zhan has always loved to silence him this way, lips to lips, ever since they were graduate students together, curled into cold stone alcoves on campus and making out when they should have been studying.

Wei Ying lips are slick with gloss, and Lan Zhan kisses him long enough to get a bit of a taste of it, to tug at Wei Ying’s bottom lip gently and then settle back. He does not let go of Wei Ying’s wrists.

Wei Ying blinks at him, hazy and startled. As his eyes refocus, his lips quirk up into a smile. He twists his wrists around so that he can grab Lan Zhan in turn, and the charms glued to his nails tickle Lan Zhan’s wrists.

“You flew like this,” Lan Zhan says, hardly a question at all.

“I did.” Wei Ying’s grin widens. “Got some looks, that’s for sure.”

Lan Zhan will climb across the countertop if that’s what it takes. His gaze sharpens.

Wei Ying laughs. “Nothing more than looks, I promise! Besides I kept the mask on most of the time anyway, so everyone kept their distance.”

“Hm.”

“Really! Lan Zhan, I swear.” He leans forward and presses his fingers against the bones of Lan Zhan’s wrists, hard enough to send shivers down his spine. All heated thoughts of others watching Wei Ying, admiring him, melt away.

“Why? Do you think they were interested in me?” Wei Ying asks, pairing the questions with a comical shimmy of his eyebrows, wild enough to make Lan Zhan smile.

“I wore it for you, you know.” Wei Ying shifts and his hands slip free. He reaches up to brush his fingers across the jewels fixed beneath his eyes, a delicate touch. “I mean, it was for the shoot, but after we wrapped I looked in the mirror and I thought: Lan Zhan would love to see me like this. So I ran out before the stylists could get at me.” For the first time, Lan Zhan notices that his clothes are unique as well—made in his customary all black, but cut at jarring angles and layered in a way too strange to be anything by purposeful. He looks like his clothes have been cut apart and reassembled incorrectly. They are likely designer, and even more likely expensive. Lan Zhan can’t stop staring at him.

“Jiang Cheng is going to be pissed.” Wei Ying sounds nearly delighted.

“Wei Ying.”

He looks up from his perusal of his outfit.

“I need to finish totaling the register, and I need to lock up.”

He nods and flicks his fingers in a gesture that says: go on then.

“Then we are going back to my place, I will fuck you until you see stars.”

Only Wei Ying can make him say things like this.

“Mark your words, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying purrs. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Lan Zhan drags his gaze away and goes back to the register. The numbers on the page swim before his eyes for a second and he freezes, pen lifted.

“Can I help with anything? I cleared the weekend—I told you that already, but I wasn’t lying, I really cleared the whole weekend—so I’m yours. Whatever you want, I’m here.”

Lan Zhan grips the edge of the counter to steady himself.

“Go stand by the door,” he orders. “Try not to drip on anything.”

The words come out harsher than he means, and Lan Zhan would curse at himself, but Wei Ying is already nodding and gathering his hat and mask from the counter and striding over to the door. He slouches against the frame in a move that would not be out of place for a photoshoot. Thus posed, he refuses to look away from Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan is going to devour him.

The accounting is harder than it should be, tonight. Lan Zhan has to check the columns three times before he is sure that he has the numbers right. He closes the account book and pulls the drawer, then takes it to the safe set into the wall to lock away.

That done, he retrieves his coat from the stand where he hung it when his shift started this afternoon and shrugs it on. It is long, the color of tea mixed with cream, and made of wool. Unsuitable for weather like this, which will soak it and leave his coat-closet smelling of wet sheep for days. He snags the keys from the counter. He turns off the last of the lights. The store falls into darkness, only the lights in the window display remaining on.

“Ready?” Wei Ying asks. The lights from the streetlamps limn Wei Ying with a mercury glow.

Lan Zhan nods. They step out and stand beneath the awning. It is hardly raining, now, but the chill of the storm clings to the air as a kind of mist, different from the kind that curls out from between their teeth when they exhale. He turns back and locks the door.

Wei Ying crowds close, threading his arm through Lan Zhan’s and pulling until they are side to side. He is warm, the kind of searing heat that Lan Zhan craves.

A whole three days of Wei Ying. It seems impossible.

Lan Zhan reaches over and curls his fingers around Wei Ying’s wrist. He slips beneath the edge of the sleeve, feeling Wei Ying’s pulse steady and sure. Something in Lan Zhan sings in response.

Wei YIng glances over. He grins. His eyes shine, bejeweled and strange and more beautiful for all of that.

He opens his umbrella, and they step out from beneath the awning, into the rain.

—

[song inspo: pporappippam(보라빛 밤)]

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mobbinholland · 5 years

Text

head home - tom holland

request: Love your writing! You’re so talented! May I please request an nsfw blurb of mob!tom with stripper reader?? #167 Thanks love ya!🤩😍

#167: “ Want to head back to my place and have a little fun? ”

pairing: mob!tom x stripper!reader

warnings: smut, praising, light bondage, daddy kinkish,

A/N: oh and not really a blurb because i actually wanted to write a mob!tom with a stripper reader :) also lmk if you guys would like a part two or even a series :)

•••

Tom had a rough day and he went to either two places. the bar where he picked up girls or the strip club where he picked up girls. being the king of the mob wasn’t easy and most of the time i took a toll on him but he wouldn’t give it up. the thrill he gets when having to beat the shit out of a guy when he doesn’t pay up and when he finally pays up. it was , in his opinion , the best way he got rich - fast.

tom pushes through the double doors of the strip club. the best one there was. in his opinion. it was clean, the girls were good, and he owned it.

“hi tom.” one of the girl says brushing past him grabbing his arm. he headed towards the bar where the girl already knew what he liked. the got the drink fast and headed down the few stairs and sunk down onto the leather seat where he had a front row view.

you never expected to end up like this. no one really does but you just needed college paid for and it was the best way you thought because you were actually good at it if you got into tom holland’s strip club. it was the hardest to get hired but damn i guess you were that good.

it was two hours until you clocked out. so you decided to work your best. the announcer says “and we have one of our new babies , sweetheart.” the name was last minute because the job was kinda - last minute .

you walked onto the stage in a beautiful diamond necklace that shined well with the lights, a gold velvet two piece that made your breat look amazing and was g-string bottoms, and tall heels to match your necklace. you were very proud with that necklace because it was the first thing you bought for yourself after getting this job.

you scanned the room just to see what you were working with and the whole room stopped for you. so you decided to give a show. you did all the spins around the pole hitting every number until your eyes met with him. tom holland. owner and the biggest mob boss there was. his eyes never came off of you. he watched now your hips swayed.

that’s my girl he thought to himself. he adorned the way you moved. so freely, didn’t seem to be shy when you were onstage. he started to think of all the things he could do with you.

your five minutes was up and you picked up all the money everyone through. you felt a pair of hands place themselves on your hips. your turned around ready to call some guy off until you realized it was tom. you never got to meet him. because you only been there for a month. “h-hi” you said shyly. your faces only inches apart. “how about a private show for the boss?” he smirked as he scanned you. you nodded and finished picking up the rest.

angel, the first friend you made came up to you to hand you the rest that you had. she always helped you and you helped back. you thanked her. “go put it in the safe place. i’ll be in the first one darling.” tom tell you and you walk quickly to the locker room. putting all your money in your bag and quickly walking back.

you slid opened the curtains and once again, your eyes met toms. you stood infront of his. “come here.” he pats his lap and you stratle him. his hands found the bottom of your ass and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“so, anything you want from me boss?” you whispered in his ear, moving down to kiss his neck. he growled at the name you called him. you smirked “how did we get so lucky huh?” he asked inbetween your clevage you chuckled. “you want a show tom?” you asked running your fingers through his hair. “show me what you got sweetheart.” he lightly smacked your ass. you jump and your both smirked. you got up and did what you do best.

bad blood by nao played. it was perfect. you moved your hips to the beat and you felt toms hand move to there favorite spot. he felt his member grow in his pants and he just couldn’t take it anymore. he stood up and bent down to whisper “ Want to head back to my place and have a little fun? ” you smiled and said “i still have 30 minutes left of my shift.” you pushed your ass against his hard member and he groaned. “i think we can make it work.”

the car ride was eventful. he asked you how you ended up stripping and why your name was sweetheart. you asked how he ended up in the mob and why he opened a strip joint.

his hand on the inside of your thigh as he rubbed circles on your skin. “this is how it’s going to go baby, you listen to me alright ? i’m going to rip that pretty little pussy of yours apart and you’re going to love it right?” “yes tom.”

you pulled up the grand drive way. you couldn’t believe how big his house was. you expected it to be big considering how much the girls you worked with talked. he helped you out the car and guided you through the grand doors. “upstairs , the two doors at the end of the hall. undressed and waiting for me.” he gives you simple directions and you nod and go upstairs. you guided yourself and opened the two doors. holy shit.

the bed wasn’t even king sized maybe a bit bigger. a huge fur rug and the bathroom. jesus. you undressed yourself while exploring the grand room. you admired everything he had. as soon as your were done you sat on the edge of the bed. your legs dangling over and you lightly kicked him back and forth.

the doors swung open and tom stood there looking at you. you smiled at him and he did the same. he closed and locked the doors. he took off his silk red tie and laid it on the bed next to you. his hand reached your cheek and his thumb swiped between your lips. “beautiful.” tom said. he pushed his thumb into your mouth and your lips wrapped around. you lightly sucked. looking through your lashes and giving tom innocent eyes. his other hand wrapped around your neck and he choked you lightly as well.

he removed his thumb and choked you harder. you grinned and your hands went down to his belt. you looked at him asking for permission through only your eyes and he nodded. you undid the leather belt and button to his pants. his hand removes itself and he unbutton his shirt. you pull done the suit pants, along with his boxer to expose his thick cock. you gasp at big it is and you were excited to see how the night was gonna go. you slid off the bed onto your knees and pumped his cock into your hand. and then you wrapped your lips around his dick.

“fuck. go ahead sweetheart do your thing.” and you did exactly that. you bobbed your head and pumping the rest you couldn’t take. you swirled your tongue around his tip everytime you came up. tom moshed st your action. you took him all the way you could and you decided to fuck your throat but tom loved it so he helped out. he grabbed the side of your head and thrust his hips into your throat. you gagged multiple times. tom grabbed your hair and pulled you hair back losing contact. the strings of saliva soon fell to the floor.

“you usually this dirty?” he asked you “only for my first boss.” he picked you up off the floor and pushed you into the bed. you giggled and tom smack you ass with full force. you scream into the sheets and he pulls you up “you gonna he a good girl for daddy?” he ask as his rubs your soaking clit. you nod and he smacks your ass again. “speak. i don’t like repeating myself.” “yes daddy i’m gonna be good for you.” you spit you. tom forces your face into the bed and your ass in the air. he grabs your wrist, put them behind your back and you felt his silk tie wrap around your wrist.

he guided his tip along your folds. “you’re soaking baby. did i make you like this?” he ask as he continued his action. “yes daddy. please fuck me” you beg to him. “needy little slut are we?” he pushes his dick slow into you. you gasp at trying to take all of him. “fuuuckk” you moan out as he as himself all the way in you. you take a few seconds to adjust to him. toms strokes were deep, slow, and hard. each time he made sure he hit the back of your walls.

“please daddy, fuck me hard.” you beg. “baby you’re not going to be able to dance for a week.” and with that being said toms thrust were now rough, fast and hard. you were a moaning mess. saying daddy over and over.

tom smacked your ass and said “fuck baby you take me so fucking well.” you clench around his cock causing him to groan out “fuck love, do that again.” and you did it again. he bangs into you harder and now he rubs your clit. pushing you to the edge.

“please daddy, i-i’m going to cum.” you manage to spit out. “go ahead baby come all over daddy’s cock.” he makes sure he hit your sweet spot and you came. the wave that washes over you made you legs weak. tom pulled out , undid the tie, and laid down on the bed.

“ride me.” you nodded and got on top of tom. you sunk down on his cock making you both moan out.

you did what he asked for. you rode him so well and you were actually surprised on how well you did it. toms hand wrapped itself around your throat and he choked you roughly. while his other hand smacked your ass. “look at you. you look so beautiful on daddy’s cock.” you grind on him and he loved that. he grip lost contact with your neck and he laid his arms to his side and let you work on him.

“ you like that daddy? when i take control ?” you ask reaching down kissing his neck and jaw line. he looks at you “fuck baby yes but you know what i love better ? when i fuck this tight little pussy of yours and make you scream my name.” and with tom saying that he makes you out your legs up so your feet we’re on the bed. he brings your knees close and your faces even closer. and he pounds into your pussy. this sensation you’ve never felt before. you scream out , digging your nails into his shoulders “who makes you feel like this?” he ask looking so deep into your eyes “you do daddy.” you barley got to spit out as tom picks up his pace. “are you gonna come again?” he ask you and you nod over and over. you feel another orgasm come over you “hold it.” tom tell you but you honestly don’t know how you could but soon enough tom says “go ahead baby. together. right now.” and you finally release on to him. breathing out heavy while he fills you up. making sure he marked you. you call into his chest. and he wraps his arms around you.

you get off of him and lay down beside him. “i’ll get my stuff. thank you boss.” you tell him sliding to the edge of the bed but he grabs your wrist and tells you

“don’t go. stay here. please?”

#marvel #peter parker #peter parker smut #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom x reader #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu phase 4 #mob!tom smut #mob!tom #dom!tom

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starsailorstories · 4 years

Text

A Soundtrack Pick for Every Short Story I Posted in 2019

From Out of the Shadows | Magpie to the Morning (2013 version)//Neko Case

“Come on sorrow, take your own advice. Thundering and lightening gets you rain. You’re on a top-secret mission, a Cousteau expedition to find a diamond at the bottom of the drain.”

The umbralis bows her head. “I’ve never let myself think about any other life. I’m so lucky to have what I do. I…luck runs out, one day.” Bolt pats a few stray hairs into place, and she raises her chin in response to the guiding touch. “I want to do my duty. But I think that…that maybe it shouldn’t be my duty to die. Not even for her will, or for–or for–” Her hand covers the silver moon badge beside her factory insignia, as if it were a bullet wound. “I want to come back someday. I suppose I don’t really know when.”

The braid released, she turns to face Bolt’s voice as she replies, “If you want my advice, well–I’d say come when you’re ready, but nobody’s ever ready.” She sits still a moment, her gaze aside, before she meets the unit’s unveiled eyes again. “Come the first time they break your heart. It will happen. And you’ll know.”

Playing Telephone | The Station - Oneohtrixpointnever

“Oh the whole station’s gonna burn down. Oh the whole station’s gonna burn down. Oh the whole station’s gonna burn down. Oh the whole station’s gonna burn down.”

She drew the glass under her veils to cup it to her light, closing her eyes to wait for the telltale, just-audible sizzle. In this miniature atrium of silence she could steal one thought fully formed.

Maybe these people were the sum of their loyalty, their diligence, their patience and attention and above all their willingness to work, just as the teachers who’d done her factory program had claimed she was. But they were also the sum of their habitation, transportation, education, and elocution--the sum of their building crews, their hospitals and libraries, and the fuel in their ships and the air in their cabins.

She placed the heated glass in the far stem of the vaporizer and turned it, with practiced grace, to inhale the first hot whiff of steam, sparing the guests its bite, covering the mouthpiece with her fingertip as she moved again to offer it to them.

She was the sum of a door, a vase, a sofa, a safe, a wall clock, a stand for parasols, and a row of green-windowed doors.

She watched the three traders lean in, taking the delicate glasswork in gold-ringed hands and oddly wet lips. They were separated from her by circumstance, by species and age and galactic cartography. But most of the things that got someone behind those green windows were just things.

Embarkation Stories | Expectations - Belle & Sebastian

“Hey, you’ve been used. Are you calm, settle down. Write a song, I’ll sing along. Soon you will know that you are sane. You’re on top of the world again.”

What made the rebels fight the immovable for their world?

What makes the crowd in the square sing of their fight?

What wavers the voice of an outer-disk girl who’s made it?

What makes the bellhop genuflect to a one-word dismissal?

Loyalty, easily divided by the chancest of circumstances.

7 Rooms | Flowers (Eurydice’s Song) - Anais Mitchell

“Dreams are sweet, until they’re not. Men are kind, until they aren’t. Flowers bloom, until they rot and fall apart. Is anybody listening? I open my mouth and nothing comes out. Nothing, nothing’s gonna wake me up now.”

Her gaze fell on lux directly, and it settled like a physical thing: heavy, but only for its preciousness; grave, but only for its importance; like an official standard weight that everything would be measured against. She accepted it in unexpressed raptures, understanding that it was her greatest dignity and her best shot. Knowing she would be carrying it for a long, long time.

Unravel You | Four Five (I Will Survive) - Ava Luna

“Maybe your heart ain’t what it used to be, and maybe your devastating beauty’s something I won’t survive--but I’ll be damned if I don’t try.”

“Oh.” Her voice was intolerably soft. Their hands were still touching. The ex-umbralis’s suddenly floated just above: “You’ve got a little bit of something here.” Her fingertip lit again, trying to brush a microscopic bit of fiber--the last evidence of the unraveled end--from her knuckle.

The captain’s yanked her hand back as if she’d been bitten. “Gah! You’re too gentle, I can’t stand it when you’re so gentle,” she cried.

“Well that’s all very well--I didn’t even get it. It’s stuck in your static. Give me your hand again.”

She drew it to half an inch before her mouth, tautening her veils against chin with her other hand. The instant saw her lips contract and rest; the tiniest puff of air skipped across the space between. The raveling flew away. The captain’s shivered.

The Supernova Monologues | Help Me Mary - Liz Phair

“As they egg me on, and keep me mad, they play me like a pit bull in a basement...”

There was a time—cycles, turns—I was twitching in my sleep. For the first time since the first week my face stung again. For the first time ever I noticed that I was biting my tongue at every touch. I couldn’t tell you what had changed. I just reached a natural end, like a planet going through a polar shift. Like a sun, burning her final iron.

I remembered the way the visionary fought—with a staff like a fulcrum she’d take down yellowjackets three times her size. I made my weapon, or something that’d pass for one. Bare foot to broom head. In any second I could steal, any second out from the grind of her eyes, I learned. From the day I began forward, I was fighting a war of attrition. When they said go fetch I brought back the vacuum’s fury. When they said jump I grew ten feet tall instead.

The Bernino Interview | The Louder I Call The Faster It Runs - Wye Oak

“Like any other day, we will make the bed--thinking, ‘It is dead, it is finally dead.’“

1: Well maybe it does piss me off. I’ve barely shaken the crash off yet and you come asking me to elaborate my moral dilemmas.

2: I think you should tell the truth even if you don’t believe anyone will listen. Don’t you think you’d be less frustrated watching things change if you were changing something too?

Rise and Shine | A Cannon - Regina Spektor

“Bare feet on the cobblestone streets, then the beach, then a splash on my ankles, my knees, then my thighs, and my eyes opened wide--I threw myself right into the sea.”

That is the first time it occurs to her: the world outside is just there. It won’t melt if she tries to touch it. She won’t burn if it touches her. She shrinks back physically from the thought, one of those phantom reactions that makes the supervisors say she’s touched by the void. She is, of course, but not in the way they think.

An Education | Love Yourself (Reprise) - Sufjan Stevens

….“If you don’t know things, fear is all you have. I realized that, seeing how different she was from me. The imperial vocivographer, I mean.”

“I don’t think they’re any less smart than we are,” the girl says suddenly. “But they live in a tiny little world. And there’s a big universe out there.”

Letters From Tropovoxia | Sixteen Tons (Cover) - My Terrible Friend

“I was born one morning when the sun didn’t shine. I picked up my shovel and I walked to the mine. Loaded sixteen tons of number nine coal, and the straw-boss said well bless my soul. You load sixteen tons, and what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt...”

“As to the latest turns of events out there, I don’t see any reason to worry. Clones can be a great deal like schoolchildren--in a sea of barely formed personalities, a single beam of confidence draws every eye. Your orator is a queen bee, nothing more. You’ll get one every few shipments. With your and the foremaidens’ guidance, she can work in your favor with the others--they see her as worth paying attention to, so they may be persuaded to see her as worth imitating. I trust you’ll understand what I’m driving at. Otherwise, let them have their little lives…”

Two Can Play | Mutiny, I Promise You - The New Pornographers

“What’s the weight of the world worth to ya, kid?”

They settle in the two seats, under the high slanted windows and under the stars behind them. Rugsy seems to sigh her indignation out, visibly flinging it from her shoulders, and then, a few moments later, starts to laugh under her breath. “Well,” Dialtone says over her, replacing the hairs disturbed by her ecstatic performance in a compact mirror pulled from an invisible dress pocket, “that was messy.”

“That was, unequivocally, the best thing we’ve ever done.”

“We had our fun, probably at great expense.”

“I love watching you lie to the feds. It’s like a chamber concert from a virtuoso.”

Very briefly, flattered light blossoms over Dialtone’s face. She comports it sour again. “In which I’m forced to incorporate the sound of you banging two washbasins together.”

“Hey! That story got them gone.”

“The execution of it got them gone.” Dialtone heaves a sigh. “You have the boldness required to sell an audacious claim. It’s no small feat for an ex-umbralis.”

Void Song | Generator (First Floor) - Freelance Whales

“We keep on churning and the lights inside your house come on. And in our native language, we are chanting ancient songs. And when we quiet down the house chants on without us.”

It occurs to her that over the afternoon of preparation, they’ve come to understand that she’s let them be part of something important, even if she never let it slip. They don’t want to disappoint her. She wishes she would ever say that she almost came out here and did this alone, and that is what would have counted as doing it wrong.

#sweet chariot #short stories

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calleo-bricriu · 4 years

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What happens when you give a vague answer of “pearls” to “Want me to pick up anything while I’m out?”

@absintheabsence

"The thing about the pearls is, I remembered my Nan, the one on Dad's side, she's got a whole--I don't know if I'd call it a collection," Calleo wedged himself next to wherever Grindelwald had been sitting; still the best way to keep him from getting away if he thought someone was being Too Nice to him, "she calls it heirloom jewelry, then she gave it to Mum, but Mum doesn’t ever really wear that sort of thing so she just sort of kept them all in the jewelry box, and I'm all that's left in that line, so I figured I'd ask her about it. Seemed like a better option than just going to a shop, you know?"

"Gave me the box as well," Calleo lifted up an almost ridiculously ornately carved silver box on legs. It more than likely could move on its own of its wiggling of the 'feet' while being held suspended from the ground was any indication.

At least it stopped squirming like a cat being held when he opened the lid; inside, the thing was fairly plainly lined in deep red velvet and, of course, neatly packed with a small amount of jewelry.

"You'll have to forgive me," he laughed and pulled the first thing out, "You just said 'pearls are traditional', though I forgot to ask what they were traditional for--or for any sort of clarification on numbers, type of jewelry or anything like that so there are a few." The pieces he held out was ten rows of pearls, with one row markedly different being similarly shaped diamonds cut to round fittings, "Those two are a matching set of bracelets--as an aside, I was never allowed near any of these as a kid, heirlooms and all."

"Then this one," the next thing carefully picked up, after handing the first two to Gellert, appeared at first to just be gold; a closer look made it more obvious that the pearls were set in gold from the top of the neckline down, some in standard round settings, others in settings that reminded Calleo of bouble ended flowers. The typical round sort at the top, tulips on the bottom, and the center being an almost tied ribbon pattern of gold flowers set with pearls. "I always liked this one."

"This next one!" Calleo picked up a double strand of--oddly shaped, none of them matching pearls, "I always thought this one was made of some kind of quartz or opal, because none of them are the same shape or size, but they're wild! So, of course, none of them are going to match! I kind of like this one because it looks so unrefined and wild next to the others." That one as well was handed over to Gellert.

The next two items were brooches, the first in gold and almost black metal; the settings of the petals and leaves were accented with various sized and cut diamonds, and the three flowers contained a large pearl at the center. The second looked ot be some sort of crescent moon shape, lined with dark pearls and a few diamond accents set in gold. "These are--self explanatory I think? A couple of brooches, though that crescent shape one got matched up with this one a lot."

Calleo then picked up a much brighter gold, ornately carved pendant with a sunburst center consisting of a pearl and several diamond leaves. All three were subsequently handed to Gellert as well. Calleo, being Calleo, had been entirely engrossed in handing over the shiny things for some time now.

"Then there're these two! The first one," a ring was picked up; a twisted gold band had three diamonds leading to a pearl on one side and three leading to a larger diamond on the other, "that's the one that got worn more frequently and I think Mum and Nan both stopped wearing the second one while I was around when I was very young," this ring was handed to Gellert as well and the last piece in the box picked up.

"Because I always thought this one looked a bit lewd! Especially the way the silver chain band goes between the pair and the way the colours are on them, it just looks--it's a perfectly ordinary ring, there's no strange intent in its design, but as a kid I always and--comments on its overall shape! Still," he grinned, "it's part of the whole varied collection, so it's yours as well. They should also be sized properly as well."

"I mean, I kind of had to get them resized, Nan has the smallest hands I've ever seen on someone that could still be assumed to be the normal hands of an adult person."

#stories #jewelry #there is some neat antique stuff out there #hp rp #absintheabsence #1992 #if specific instructions are not given he'll just fill in the blanks himself and usually go way off the rails with it

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gigglyirwin · 5 years

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Coffee and Christmas Gifts

Pairing: Luke x Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: fluff, some swearing probably,

Prompt: Christmas With Luke

Summary: You spend the night at Luke’s house for the first time ever, and wake up to a Christmas celebration, complete with coffee, movies, and a way too expensive gift.

This is day 22 of 25 Days of Christmas. Check out the masterlist HERE!

You took a deep breath, knocking on the red door that separated you from Luke. You fixed your bag over your shoulder, looking down at your feet nervously. You had never spent the night at his house, let alone spent the night with him in general. Sure he’d stay over at your place until the wee hours of the morning, or you’d accidentally fall asleep on his couch during a movie night, but you never stayed the entire time. It was nerve-wracking, wondering how this night was going to go, but it was Christmas Eve, and Luke wasn’t able to go home to see his family this year and you had agreed to spend Christmas together since your family wasn’t going to be around either.

Your relationship began slow. Both you and Luke had just gotten out of relationships when you met. Luke was the more cautious of you two, though. It took 9 months of friendship before he asked you out, and three weeks worth of dates before he kissed you. Then it took a month and a half after that before you ended up naked in his bed.

Luke greeted you with a kiss when he opened the door. “Happy Christmas Eve,” he chuckled, pulling you into a hug once you had gotten inside. You buried your head against his chest, closing your eyes and reveling in the sound of his steady heartbeat.

He settled your nerves as he held you. You weren’t sure why sleeping over at his house was that scary of an idea to you, it just seemed like this huge jump in your relationship, like the next step of commitment. You didn’t want to feel like you were rushing into things or getting too close too fast. You wondered if Luke shared the same worries. You wanted to allow yourself to fall in love with him, but you were afraid of getting hurt. (And you knew for certain that Luke was too.)

“I bought pizza for dinner, I hope that’s okay,” Luke said, slipping his hand into yours as he led you through the hallway. “You can put your bag in my room if you want.” Luke followed you up the stairs and you threw your bag at the end of his bed, flipping off the light switch and heading back to the living room.

You settled on some movies to watch, eating pizza and sharing kisses between bites. You were comfortably full, arms wrapped around Luke as he kept his head on your shoulder, your focus mostly on Elf as it played.

You could tell Luke was growing bored towards the end of the movie, and his focus had shifted to your neck where he was leaving tiny love bites that would disappear by morning. His hand gripped your thigh and you were gone, shifting to meet his gaze.

“Want to?” he asked, nodding at the staircase.

“Mmh hmm,” you answered, letting him drag you back up the stairs once more, this time in much more of a hurry.

You woke up to Lukes face nuzzled into the back of your neck. His nose was pressed right against it and you could feel the hot puff of his breath every time he exhaled. It was clear he was still asleep. You moved a quarter of an inch forward when you realized his arm was slung tightly around your middle, keeping you against his bare chest.

You closed your eyes tightly, slowly easing his arm off of you so you could get up. You quietly crept to his bathroom, breathing a sigh of relief when you had successfully made it in there without waking him, or so you thought.

When you came out of his bathroom after doing your business and fixing your hair, Luke was no longer in bed. You collected the t-shirt he had worn yesterday off his bed, throwing it on and making your way down the stairs, to find Luke setting out a few presents under his tree.

He turned around, letting out a low whistle. “Holy shit I could get used to this sight,” he commented, voice deep and laced with sleep. He set down the last present that was in his arms before making his way over to you and throwing his arms around your waist once again.

“Did I wake you?” You asked, brushing a few of his curls out of his face.

“Yes. But it’s okay. It’s almost 10; we slept in really late.” Luke bent down and nuzzled his face against your neck, leaving gentle kisses along the skin there. He smirked as he came across the purple mark he left last night, pressing his lips over the bruise and making you squirm.

“Quit it,” you said, pushing at his chest. He lifted his head up, only to kiss your lips.

Luke pulled away first, hands bunched in the back of your—his t-shirt as he spoke. “You hungry? I can make breakfast for us.”

“Starving. I’ll meet you in the kitchen in just a minute.”

“Okay,” Luke hummed and kissed your cheek before letting you go.

You headed back up the stairs, unzipping your duffle bag that you hadn’t even touched since you put it down in his room. You pulled out the gifts you had gotten for Luke, stacking them in a neat little pile. You looked to your clothes at the bottom of your bag and then down at Luke’s shirt you had stolen and decided against getting dressed, only pulling on a pair of panties and pulling on a bra before jogging back downstairs with his gifts in your hands. You set them under the tree neatly then met Luke in the kitchen.

You moved into the living room after breakfast, sitting with your backs against the couch, sipping coffee and simply enjoying each others company. You curled into Luke’s chest when he threw his arm around you, admiring the Christmas tree with the sounds of A Christmas Story playing in the background.

After kissing your temple, Luke set his coffee cup down and leaned forward to grab the presents. He put yours in your pile and his in his own. You were panicked because you had a lot more gifts than Luke did, but Luke insisted the only reason was because his family had sent some over for you. Your parents had gotten Luke a gift too, but as you read the tags on your gifts, you realized Luke’s mom had sent you quite a bit. “I told her not to, but she insisted,” he claimed, hands raised in defense. You shook your head, folding your legs and tearing into the first present in your pile.

When Luke had finished opening his gifts, he settled on just watching you open yours. You only had two more, both from Luke and they were small. You still felt bad, seeing as he didn’t get nearly as many as you did. “It’s not about quantity it’s about quality, babe,” he reminded, to which you rolled your eyes.

You tore open your last gift and popped the top off the box it had come in. You stared wide-eyed at the gold bracelet inside. The bracelet had three small diamonds in a row in the middle and you just knew by looking at it it had to have cost him a fortune.

“Luke,” you began before he cut you off.

“I know. I know we said no big gifts, but it just screamed you and I couldn’t not get it.”

You were silent as you watched the diamonds sparkle in the light, turning the box so they’d catch the lights of the Christmas tree.

“Do you like it?” Luke asked hesitantly, causing you to look up and meet his eyes.

“Yes, Luke. It’s beautiful, I love it.” He breathed out a sigh of relief, only to hold his breath again when you continued talking. “But it had to have been a pretty penny.”

Luke shrugged. “You deserve it.”

You sighed. You weren’t winning this. So instead, you took the bracelet out and had Luke help you put it on. His smile lit up the whole room when you accepted the gift. “I’ll just have to make it up to you,” you commented, eyes trained again on the bracelet now around your wrist.

“Are you kidding me? You already have. Y/N, I don’t care about how much something costs, I care that you’re here with me and we get to celebrate Christmas together and that I got to wake up this morning to you walking down the stairs in just my t-shirt, that’s what I really care about. Those things are better than anything money could buy.” You cracked your own smile at his words, letting the weight fall off your shoulders and no longer worrying as much about the money he spent on the bracelet. “And you’re dating a rock star, you’re just going to have to get used to the fact that I’m going to spend money on you.”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh before pulling him into a long kiss. “Merry Christmas, Luke.”

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

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authorhenrijenkins · 5 years

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190822

It was on the ride home three days ago when I first noticed them. They could have been there weeks before without my having considered either or both. On the day I did see them, they were apart though I now feel certain working together. One, the squat older fellow sat on the back row beyond the door and facing my direction four rows away. There! And I was here just behind the operator facing the rear, trying to read my book in peace. It too is a mystery.

He wore scruffy jeans with hand-rolled cuffs, cheap imitation slip-on deck shoes without socks and a loose orange-red ombre shirt with black prints. Palm trees and pineapples I believe. He had but a few thin hairs, the jowls of a bulldog, a fat nose like a boxer and dark, beady eyes that did most of the work. He seemed particularly interested in her but didn't seem to take notice of me in the least. Thumbs for fingers, they mostly sat clenched on his lap in rounded prayer. His actual thumbs twirled away as if burning off the adrenaline of anticipation or fear or both. There was a pair of thick black frame glasses waiting in the shirt pocket. I presumed them more for distance than close work.

The other one, thin and tall sat there across the aisle from me. One row closer to and facing his cohort. His clothes were nicer though seemed somewhat out of place. I said he was thin but it was a sickly, almost terminal kind of thin. He didn't appear frail so I judged him a junky or severe alcoholic. He chain-smoked Marlboro Reds from a hard pack, stamped out the butts on the bottom of well-worn cap toed Derbies and flicked them out the open window only to retrieve another and light it with a stainless Zippo. It had a skull emblem with the American flag in it. The cover was loose and the fluid was running low.

My fingers rubbed at my lips then poked at my left pocket. I remembered my lighter was in the center drawer of my desk at home. He wore dark grey cuff-less slacks and an Oxford white shirt with the sleeves rolled just above the elbows, at least it was on the right. He had a tattoo on his right forearm but it muted to the point I never settled on what it was. I believe there may have been an anchor in it but as I said, I was left uncertain. His hair was short black but choppy in he cut it himself kind of way. Oh, his left ear was pierced. I noticed it when he looked to the window, a silver screw back and single clear stone setting. He had high cheek bones and a bridging nose.

"And Mrs. Ericksen, where was she?" the Detective asked.

She, missus did you say, I-I wasn't aware. My hand scraped at my face and consoled my chest. I knew her only as Diane and don't recall ever seeing a ring. She was always impeccably dressed, well enough I often questioned her riding a streetcar. It was queer. She seemed more a debutante than in anyone's employ. Anyway, she was here, the same row as the thin man but on my side of the aisle. With no one in the seats between us, we faced one another, her and I.

She would only sit in a forward facing seat. She said that to another one of the regulars some time back and it obviously stuck with me - Mrs. Whitney who had never learned to drive. Her husband Jack had driven her until his death in a car wreck no less. After that she began walking and using public transportation for the bulk of her travels. She too recently passed, though from natural causes as I understand it.

Though quite my junior I always held a certain affection for Diane and had multiple times sensed some interest from her. I felt she had an old soul. I could never afford to venture such a pursuit. Could you imagine.

It was a summery Spring day and she was wearing a knee length dress, white pleated skirt, large pleats with Pink Bougainvillea climbing the hem, a wide, crisp white leather belt with a flower applique buckle, pink bodice and an invisible back. She almost always wore simple round cut diamond studs of course each was bigger than a supermoon. She had a thin gold box chain with a subtle gold cross and a Faget hummingbird broach, a thin band gold watch on her right wrist, Longines I believe but no, no ring. I can't ever remember her wearing a ring, of any sort.

"I see," said the Detective.

And nylons and pink patent leather pumps, open-toed. That finished her outfit. Oh and she had a small white leather clutch with her.

"Do you recall her speaking to or with either of the men you described as suspicious?"

I'm not accusing them, just stating they seemed interested and knowing now what I didn't know then it seems so un-circumstantial. To think it was the last time I would ever see her alive. If I had only known but then how could I.

"So you have no recollection of them speaking?"

No sir I don't recall any actual conversation but there was something. The fat guy at her rear appeared to go unnoticed, oblivious to her, a trait I believe she developed in dealing publicly with her looks. She was a stunning beauty, easily could have been one of the top five models in the world in my opinion. Most of the time she seemed a million miles away in a world she created only for herself.

There wasn't anything said but I do remember at one point she looked ill-tempered in regards to the thin man. She looked around as if she was thinking of moving to another seat. I remember thinking it odd that she got off one stop before her usual departure. She seemed to be watching to see if the thin man was going to follow her. He didn't but the fat guy did get off. The thin man climbed off at the next stop and headed north, where we had come from.

"You did nothing to intervene?"

I-I didn't know, especially in the moment, I had no idea what would or could come of it. It wasn't until after that the pieces really started falling into place, hindsight being what it is. I love reading mysteries and have developed what most feel is an overactive imagination so I've learned its oft best to keep my thoughts to myself. And maybe that's all this is me imagining something that didn't happen.

"Sure, sure. I appreciate you meeting me here today. If there's anything else, I'll phone you."

I'm certainly happy to help, especially for Diane, um, missus, what did you say her married name was?

"Ericksen, Mrs. Charles Ericksen III of Ericksen Industries."

The family that owns the shipyard?

"Yes, the shipyard, a tug and barge line, barge manufacturing, rail cars, trucking lines, multiple food co-packer facilities, the largest beverage distributorship in the state and all in all, more money than the Pope."

And possibly more political power too.

"Right, so this one's being tracked with a stop watch."

Well Detective, whether it's the two I described or not, I do hope you get your killer.

"Thanks, all I have to do now is to find Laurel and Hardy."

If I come across either of them, I'll phone you straight away.

"You do that. Oh before you go maybe you could answer one more question."

I waited.

"You described the two men and Mrs. Ericksen so well, can you tell me about anyone else on the streetcar that day?"

I imagine so. I thought back to the day. George the building maintenance supervisor sat behind me, behind the operator William, they are both African Americans and friendly toward one another. They like to chat the whole way. George often brings an egg or tuna salad sandwich and a sandwich bag of Charles Chips that he shares with William. He not supposed to eat and drive at the same time but he's been doing it for so long, no one ever complains, it doesn't affect his performance. George rides all the way to the barn, the end of the line.

"Who else?"

The chatty Kathies were there that day in the seats directly across from me. They get off three stops before Diane's usual stop, seven before mine. All three are named some sort of spelling of Kathy and they all live near one another and believe it or not all three are paralegals. They work for different law firms and the chatter like hungry sparrows the whole of their ride. They typically keep the conversation at a respectful level but do occasionally get loud with a laugh or rebuff.

Old man Fine was there that day too in the front seat across from George. He had been into the city to see his wife at TMC, she was down with pneumonia, real bad from the sound of it. He was quiet with worry, his face was drench in it. He lives on the same street as me, but opposite side of the line. I thought about seeing him home but had a pressing engagement that evening. Beyond that, some college students and strangers got on and off here and there but nothing that stands out.

"What was your, how did you put it, pressing engagement?"

A retirement party for a man who was a great mentor to me most of my life.

"Ah. Good party?"

Actually, I never made it. I took to not feeling well soon after arriving home and wound up in bed early.

"That's too bad. There are far too few parties in my opinion."

Right.

"If I asked you about your ride to work the week before, would you be able to provide such detail?"

With some time to chew on it, I believe so.

"So do I Mr. Thompson, so do I."

Steve, please. Mr. Thompson is a son-of-a-bitch? The Detective snickered and shook my hand. I made my way home and cried for her and for failing her. I hoped I had provided some measure of assistance to Diane.

#authorhenrijenkins #henri jenkins #writing #writing prompt

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sweetnestor · 6 years

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the end of infinity with you | septic egos

previous: the last of the real ones

other works of mine

“you were too good to be true

gold plated

but what’s inside you?

but what’s inside you?”

After a very long month, Jack was transported to another hospital, on Dr. Schneeplestein’s orders. This hospital would be better for Jack, but it was just a little too far away and visitation was limited. Meaning, Chase couldn't visit every day like he used to.

Work had gotten a lot more demanding over these last few weeks. Bro Average had been picked up for a third season, which meant that Chase was on set almost every single day. Sometimes he had to bring his kids with him on the weekends. It's not really how he wanted to be with his kids, but it's better than nothing. Besides, the kids were fascinated by the big cameras and the bright lights. They liked to brag that their dad was a big star, and the crew adored them.

That was only sometimes. Other times, Stacy had to keep them over the weekend because Chase was a little too busy at work. He was quite taken with the flask he would bring with him. He knew he couldn't let the kids see that. He couldn't let anyone see that.

Other than that, Henrik got in contact with Chase again. He was put in charge of Jack's case, so he was constantly updating Chase on the situation. Lately, though, there weren't any drastic changes. Jack's blood count went up and down every day. His heart was going from good to great, from great to bad, and so on. His kidneys weren't working one day, his liver always threatened to give out. It was never anything major. There was no sign of Jack waking up, nor was there any sign of him never waking up again.

This was starting to feel like the beginning of the end.

It was another day of Chase sitting in his Bro Average dressing room. It was the middle of the week, so his little ones weren't running around the set. No one was keeping his mind occupied between takes. Typically, Chase would be chatting with his co-stars or FaceTiming some local magazine for an interview. But instead he was sitting in front of the vanity, anxiously checking his phone. Waiting on any kind of news about his comatose friend was getting to be exhausting these days. Of course, the worst news was sticking out in Chase's mind more than anything. He didn't want to wake up one day with a new text saying-

“Brody, we need you on set!” called the assistant, Jan. Third one he's gone through this month.

With a sigh, Chase put down his phone and put on his signature grey hat. He looked at himself in the mirror, trying to remember some vague but powerful quote to get him going again. Then, he cracked his head from side to side, only to feel a sting… on his throat?

Chase swore and placed his hand over the base of his neck, examining the skin in the mirror. That sting didn't feel like a sore throat, it was like…

He looked down at the palm of his hand. The scar was still very visible. The things that came after getting that cut were more vivid. Red lights in dark rooms still haunted his dreams at night.

“Okay,” Chase said to himself. He reached for the bottom drawer of the vanity and opened it up.

At this point, he didn't even read the labels on these tiny bottles. He just knew they would help.

Not surprisingly, Stacy had no problem keeping the kids for the third weekend in a row. She also didn't have any problem with not letting Chase talk to them over the phone. He knew he had to go visit Jack in London, but he didn't want the kids to feel left out because of it. Stacy always had to keep them to herself, and she wondered why Chase was so angry at her all the time. Always playing the victim.

The cab ride to London took ages. Chase wanted to sleep the whole way there, he even had some wine to help with the process, but to no avail. By the time he was actually in London, he was very glad he wasn't checking into a hotel. He would not have done it coherently.

Henrik had been kind enough to let Chase stay in his massive home. He was too kind, actually. He told Chase that the place would be empty, apart from the staff.

Yes, staff. Henrik owned a fucking mansion in a gated community of more fucking mansions. Apparently, he owned more in different parts of the world.

That was a little weird to Chase. He knew Henrik had a wife and child in Germany. Wouldn't he want to stay with them? Did they ever visit? Henrik was a strange man.

The Victorian style home was eerie once Chase was actually inside it. There was a certain vibe within the walls that made Chase’s hair stand up. This place was probably haunted. Maybe it was haunted enough for Bro Average to come and do a spooky Halloween episode. Upon that thought, Chase wondered if he could sleep at the hospital.

“I'm too drunk for this,” he mumbled as he followed one of the butlers up the marble staircase. The portraits hung on the wall were watching him. He held his backpack closer to himself, like the people in these portraits were going to jump out and rob him.

“I will have someone fix you a cure for that,” said the butler over his shoulder. They walked onto the second floor and opened the first double doors on the left of the hallway. “Here are you quarters, Master Brody.”

That only thing that was a master was the bedroom. There was a massive four poster bed between two large windows that had an incredible view of the neighborhood. There was a small chandelier hanging from the ceiling as well.

“This is awesome,” Chase muttered. Maybe he should be a doctor instead of a TV personality.

“The car will be here shortly, Master Brody,” the butler told him. “I know you are wanting to see your dear friend.”

Chase got a pit in his stomach again. Right. That's why he was here in a bougie ass mansion.

Once the butler had gone, Chase dropped his backpack on the floor and went to lie down. The bed was soft and very comfortable, especially in his intoxicated state. It was like being a cloud of ducks wrapped in pillows…

“Still… here…”

There was a flash of red light, and then Chase jolted awake. He was sweating, and his heart was pounding. Such a short dream, but he felt so put off by it.

“Mr. Brody?” called a female voice from the door. “May I enter?”

“Uh, yeah,” he called back. “And uh, please just call me Chase.”

A woman in a powder blue maid’s outfit walked in, holding a glass of clay colored… something. She smiled warmly, pretending not to notice the sweat dripping from Chase’s face.

“This will put you right,” she said as she handed him the glass. “If you drink it all now, you’ll be sober by the time you get to the hospital.”

“Thank you.” Chase accepted the glass, but he waited until the maid left to set it down on the bedside table.

He didn’t really want to be sober right now.

It was dark outside by the time Chase arrive to the hospital. Still, he was itching to see if his friend seemed any different than when he last saw him. Chase all but ran up to Jack’s room, ready to speak to him and catch up. Just as he approached the doorway, he heard other voices.

“So then what would this card be?”

“A joker?”

“Wrong! It’s the king of diamonds!”

“What do you mean?!”

Chase heard two voices, but he discovered four people when he entered the room. Henrik was checking Jack’s vitals, but the other three were quite the sight. Chase could barely take them in before Henrik started talking at him.

“Ah, look who has finally showed up!” he said as he went to shake Chase’s hand. “Welcome, my friend!”

“I, I didn’t know you would be here,” Chase said. “Thought you only worked in Brighton.”

“I am all over.” Henrik smiled. “Come, meet the others.”

The other three men came forward. The first one to offer his hand was a dapper looking guy in a white button up, blue vest, and a black bowler hat. It was like he was plucked straight out of a Charlie Chaplin film.

“This is Jameson Jackson,” said Henrik, placing his hands on the man’s shoulders. “He prefers to be called JJ.”

Chase shook JJ’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

He smiled wide and nodded. Then he let go and signed something to Chase.

“He said he likes your hat,” interpreted one of the other guys. He was in a bright red hoodie with the hood up, and he wore black skinny jeans and blue converse.

“Oh. Thanks, dude,” Chase told JJ.

“Anyway, I’m Jackie,” said the red hooded guy.

“Huh. Jack and Jackie.”

“I know right!” He sounded a little too excited, given the circumstances.

Then came the last guy. He had on a purple button up, black skinny jeans, and boots very similar Chase’s. This guy also had a man bun, and he had a cape hanging over his arm. There was also a cat mask with little designs attached to his belt buckle. To top it off, he was fiddling with a deck of cards in his hands.

“Hey, I’m Marvin,” he greeted. “Wanna play fifty two card pick up?”

Chase cracked a smile. “I play that with my daughter all the time.”

Once all introductions were made, they all turned to Jack. Still in a coma. Still unknowing. Still beating. The heart monitor was the only bit of reassurance that he was still there. JJ returned to his chair right next to the bed, and he looked sadly at Jack. Marvin leaned against the wall next to the door, still shuffling his cards. Henrik stood at the foot of the bed, hands in his pockets. Jackie went over to the window, staring out into the night.

Chase thought he would have been sad all over again to see Jack like this, but he was just numb. “Are we still on the waiting game?”

“Yes,” Henrik answered, “but he hasn’t gotten any worse.”

That numbness went away pretty quickly. Chase couldn’t control his tone. “So then what was the point in moving him further away?”

However, Henrik wasn’t fazed by the change in attitude. “There are more doctors, better doctors. More great minds to try to figure out what to do.”

“But aren’t you the best there is?” Chase was getting angry. “Why would you move him if he was just going to stay the same? Why aren’t you being the good doctor you say you are?”

Jackie decided to step in. “Hey, he’s doing his best! It’s a really tricky situation, especially since we don’t know exactly how he got this way!”

“Yeah, you’re not the only one who’s pissed at the situation,” Marvin added.

Chase only felt angrier. “Who the hell even are you guys? Jack has never talked about you guys before! I never saw any of you at the other hospital!”

Marvin looked him right in the eyes, a hard expression on his face. “You know, he never mentioned you either.”

“That’s not true… We’re best friends!”

“Never seen you before, never heard of you.” He looked at JJ and Jackie. “You guys ever heard of a… what was it again? Chad?”

“It’s Chase…”

JJ and Jackie didn’t say anything, they were just looking back and forth between the other two men. Meanwhile, Henrik was staying out of it and pretending to check on Jack some more, walking up to check his eyes with a mini flashlight.

Marvin shrugged his shoulders as he turned back to Chase, still mocking. “I wouldn’t know. Jack’s never talked about you before.”

It felt like lead was falling over Chase’s shoulders. Was Marvin telling the truth? Had Jack never talked about Chase to anyone else? Was Chase not important enough to be talked about?

“Guys I think his feelings are hurt,” Marvin said to the others, only adding to the humiliation.

“Hey, come on now,” Jackie said as he turned away from the window. “Jack has loads of friends. I’m sure he’s mentioned all of us at least once.”

“Then how come I’ve never seen any of them at the hospital in Brighton?” Chase shot back. “How come only me and his family would come see him and everyone else just sent cards he can’t even read?”

JJ tapped his shoulder to get his attention. Chase watched him sign a speech, but Henrik interpreted.

“We were all planning to come visit. We just didn’t know we were all going to be here at the same time. The timing is strange, if you ask me. But please, don’t be angry. Jack is everybody’s friend.”

Chase wasn’t so sure about that anymore. Here he thought Jack was his best friend. He thought he had an effect on Jack like it was the other way around. Chase thought he finally mattered to someone. But maybe Jack only hung out with him out of pity. They did meet in a bar when Chase was completely hammered. Maybe that’s why Jack hid him like a dirty secret.

So then why was Chase wasting his time here?

“It’s true, though,” Jackie spoke up. “None of knew the other person was coming here today too. I don’t know about you guys, but, uh, my schedule is really busy at the moment. Really unpredictable. I didn’t think I would find the time to get here.”

“My round of shows in Vegas were pushed to next week,” Marvin said. “I figured now was as good a time as any to visit my friend. You know, before there is no time.”

“I got a random free weekend,” Chase told them. “It’s weird, I just started shooting the new season of my show, things were tight. No time for breaks or vacations.”

“But your superiors told you to take the weekend off?” Marvin guessed.

Chase nodded. He thought only Henrik’s house gave him skin crawling chills. Then, he turned to JJ, who was sitting down again.

“What about you?”

This time, instead of signing, he pulled a notepad and pen from under his hat. He quickly scribbled on a clean page and showed Chase.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he read out loud. “What does that mean?”

“He travels a lot,” Jackie explained. “He comes and he goes. We don’t really know where he came from.”

“So you all know each other, then?” Chase asked.

Jackie and Marvin shared a look.

“I have treated Jackie in the past,” Henrik spoke up. “I have treated him many times, actually. I met JJ and Marvin only today.”

“Yeah, we go way back,” Jackie added. He rolled back the sleeve on his hoodie, revealing his pale arm. “See that? There’s nothing! Would have been an ugly burn scar if Doc over here hadn’t helped me.”

“I have treated Chase as well!” said Henrik a little too gleefully. “Look at us, we all have common ground!”

Chase only nodded curtly. He didn’t really want to get into the time he was in the hospital shortly after the divorce and custody battle. “So how do you all know Jack?”

JJ went first. He wrote on his notepad again and passed it around. “We met on Halloween! We were pumpkin carving!”

“Jack always did love carving!” Henrik said with a laugh. “A little too much, I think!”

“I met him when I was doing street magic,” Marvin said, still leaning against the wall. “He was really fascinated with it. He encouraged me to keep pursuing it, to throw myself into it. So I did. Wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for him.”

“He saved me from getting jumped,” Jackie recalled. “Scared some guys out of an alley to keep them away from. He had a pocket knife and all. Now, I try to help people as much as I can.”

Chase felt a little sheepish now. These guys were doing great things because of Jack. Chase could barely function these days. He was still a little intoxicated standing in this hospital room. He wasn’t anything special. He didn’t do anything worthwhile. All he’s done is fail.

“I met him in a bar,” he said. “We really hit it off. We’ve hung out a lot.” Truth is, that was probably where the drinking habit began. Not because of Jack, though.

“Well,” Henrik began, “Jack helped me when one of my patients went under. We made a great team. Then, he needed my help. He was attacked, someone slit his throat. I almost lost Jack, but he is very strong.”

Chase suddenly remembered the weird sting in his throat from earlier today. He had never gotten injured like that before, and he had never know about Jack’s injury. There wasn’t even a scar to show for it. Yet, Chase could clearly imagine the blood seeping from the fresh wound… It went towards him… it came closer…

All five men jumped when Chase’s phone started ringing. Who the hell even calls him these days?

Stacy, apparently.

“I gotta take this,” Chase said as he went out into the hallway. Then he pressed his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“You wanna tell me why there's so many empty liquor bottles in your flat?” Stacy's shrill voice said on the other line.

Chase froze in the middle of the corridor. His blood ran cold, and it felt like the ground under his feet disappeared.

“Uh - Why the hell are you at my flat?” he shot back.

“The kids left their Switch. What's your excuse?”

“I, uh, I had people over.”

“When? You don't have any friends!”

“You don't know that!”

Stacy sighed angrily. “You know, I thought your drunk voicemails were a one time thing. I was nice enough to let it go, I let you have the kids on the weekends-"

“You didn't let me, the court ordered it!” Chase spitefully reminded her.

She scoffed. “Well, the court will change their mind, won't they? Once they know what you do during the week-"

“Stacy!” he interrupted, getting desperate. “Stacy, I swear, it's not what you think.”

“Don't lie to me. I called your show producer. You're drinking on set.”

This couldn't be happening. This was not real.

“What do I have to do?”

“There's nothing you can do.”

Suddenly, a group of nurses rushed past Chase. He quickly got up against the wall to avoid a traffic jam, especially after seeing one nurse pushing a crash cart. To make matters worse, Chase saw the nurses run into the room he had stepped out of.

He heard Stacy's voice yelling over the phone, but the sound faded as he let the device slip out of his hand. Everything went in slow motion as he ran back to the room. All other sounds disappeared, the only sound was Chase’s blood pounding in his ears. Just as he made it to the doorway, he collided into Marvin, JJ, and Jackie. That was when everything came back.

“H-He, his heart…” Jackie tried to explain, while JJ frantically signed with teary eyes.

“The heart monitor went crazy,” Marvin explained, sounding shaken. “We heard the long beep, then the thing started sparking. Then, Jack started seizing. Nurses told us to get out.”

They all heard Henrik’s frantic yelling from the room, ordering to hit Jack with however many grams of whatever medicine. Then they heard something like, “We're losing him!”

“Come on, man,” Chase mumbled. He peered into the room, but only saw the backs of many nurses.

Soon enough, they all backed up on Henrik’s orders. He had the defibrillator ready.

“Clear!”

The paddles barely touched Jack's chest before he sat up. Jack literally sat up in the bed, scaring the hell out of the people surrounding him. His eyes were wide and alert like he wasn't asleep for months on end. He stared right at the four men at the door as he reached for the tubes in his mouth.

“Jack, no!” Henrik yelled. “Let me, let me!”

He tried to reach for Jack, but he was suddenly knocked off his feet, along with the nurses. It was like an invisible force pushed them back.

Jack pulled the tubes out of his mouth, still staring at the doorway. Then, he spoke in a clear voice:

“I remember what he did to me.”

Blood started coming out of his mouth. He choked and coughed, spitting blood down his front, and then he finally fell back again.

Chase, Marvin, JJ, and Jackie were sent to the waiting room while everything got resolved. Eventually, Henrik found them and updated them on the situation.

“I am very sorry…”

JJ responded by taking off his bowler hat. Chase did the same with his snapback.

Several phone calls were made after that. All the guys sat together and alerted Jack’s family, girlfriend, and close friends. After that, they were just sitting and trying to process what had happened.

“He’s really gone,” Jackie muttered, like he was thinking out loud. “Never gonna see him again, are we?”

“What the fuck?” Chase wondered. It still hadn’t properly hit. “What the fuck?”

“Why did his last words have to be so cryptic?” Marvin sounded more annoyed than sad.

JJ just sat with his head down and his shoulders slumped.

“If that fucking demon wasn’t there…” Henrik trailed off.

So they all saw it.

“I should’ve known,” Marvin spoke, rubbing his temple. “I told Jack how I… He told me he was desperate for change. He wanted a way out. I told him what I did. Didn’t think he would do it.”

Chase tilted his head. “You told him to use a Ouija board?”

“I told him I… called upon things outside of this realm.”

“Who’s the cryptic one now?” Jackie said rather harshly. “Jack was found unconscious in front of that board. If you told him to summon a demon or whatever the fuck, then just fucking say it!”

Marvin looked him in the eyes and said nothing. The two had a silent conversation before Jackie turned his eyes to the floor.

“I thought he was done with that stuff,” Henrik spoke after a while. “I thought the neck injury was the last straw for him.”

Chase absentmindedly rubbed at his throat. “I used a Ouija board not that long ago. Whatever came through, he took my kids for a day.”

“Just one day?” Marvin asked.

“Hey, when you’re a parent, losing your kids for even a minute is fucking scary.”

“Were they okay?” Jackie asked, concerned.

“Yeah. They’re perfect. They don’t remember a thing.” Chase remembered the phone call with Stacy. “I made a deal with this thing to make sure of it. The kids were to be unharmed, and I would lose everything else in return.”

He paused and waited for one of the guys to lash out. If Chase’s deal was to lose everything, then technically Jack dying was his fault. That’s what he waited for one of them to say. But they were all quiet.

Then, JJ took his notepad and wrote something. He showed Chase the page.

“He doesn’t like being called a thing.”

______

tags: @ninjasversuslife @modicumofmotivation

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beatmyaudio · 4 years

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Grillz Song Lyrics – Nelly Paul Wall And Ali Gipp

Grillz Song Lyrics

Grillz Song Lyrics From Popular Hollywood Artist Nelly Paul Wall And Ali Gipp from Album.

This song is sung by singer ” Nelly Paul Wall And Ali Gipp ” in Year 2006.

Lyrics of Grillz :

robbed a jewelry store and tell ?em make me a grill yeah da whole top diamonds and da bottom rows gold yo we ?bout to start an epidemic wit dis one yall know what dis is so so def got 30 down at da bottom 30 mo at da top all invisible set in little ice cube blocks if they could call it a drink call it a smile on da rocks if they could call out a price lets say i call out a lot i got like platinum and white golds traditional gold im changin grillz erday like jay change clothes i might be grilled out nicely in my white tee on south beach in my wife b vive ustedes you can tell when they cut it you see my grandmama hate it but my lil mama love it ?cuz when i open up ya mouth ya grill gleamin eyes stay low from da chiefin i got a grill i call ?penny candy you know what dat mean it look like now an laters gum drops jelly beans i wouldnt leave it fo nutin only a crazy man would so if ya catch me in ya city somewhere out in ya hood just say smile fo me daddy what you lookin at let me see ya grill let me see my what ya ya grill ya ya ya grill robbed a jewelry store and tell em make me a grill she said smile fo me daddy what you lookin at i want to see your grill you wanna see my what ya ya grill ya ya ya grill yeah the whole top diamonds and da bottom rows gold what it do baby its da ice man powwow i got my mouth lookin somethin like a disco ball i got da diamonds and da ice all hand set i might cause a cold front if i take a deep breath my teeth gleamin like im chewin on aluminum foil smilin showin off my diamonds sippin on some potent oil i put my money where my mouth is and bought a grill 20 carrots 30 stacks let ?em know im so fo real my motivation is them 30 pointers vvs the furniture in my mouthpiece simply symbolize success i got da wrist wear and neck wear dats captivatin but its my smile dat got these onlookers spectatin my mouthpiece simply certified a total package open up my mouth and you see mo carrots than a salad my teeth are mind blowin givin everybody chillz call me george foreman ?cuz im sellin everybody grillz smile fo me daddy what you lookin at let me see ya grill let ya see my what ya ya grill ya ya ya grill robbed a jewelry store and tell em make me a grill she said smile fo me daddy what you lookin at i want to see your grill you wanna see my what ya ya grill ya ya ya grill yeah the whole top diamonds and da bottom rows gold gipp got dem yellows got dem purples got dem reds lights gon head and make you woozy in ya head you can catch me in my too short drop mob got colors like a fruit loop box dis what it do when it lou ice grill country grammar where da hustlas move bricks and da gangstas bang hammas where i got ?em you can spot ?em on da top in da bottom got a bill in my mouth like im hillary rodham i aint dissin nobody but lets bring it to da light yeah was da first wit my mouth bright white yeah cant focus ?cuz they eyesight blurry tippin on some fos you can see my mouth jeelry i got fo different sets its a fabolous thang 1 white 1 yellow like fabolous chain and da otha set is same got my name in da mold yeah da whole top diamonds and da bottom rows gold smile fo me daddy what you lookin at let me see ya grill let ya see my what ya ya grill ya ya ya grill robbed a jewelry store and tell em make me a grill she said smile fo me daddy what you lookin at i want to see your grill you wanna see my what ya ya grill ya ya ya grill yeah the whole top diamonds and da bottom rows gold boy how youd get your grill that way and how much did you pay every time i see you the first thing i wan say is smile fo me daddy what you lookin at let me see ya grill let ya see my what ya ya grill ya ya ya grill robbed a jewelry store and tell em make me a grill she said smile fo me daddy what you lookin at i want to see your grill you wanna see my what ya ya grill ya ya ya grill yeah the whole top diamonds and da bottom rows gold cmon

Grillz Song Lyrics

Youtube Channel Link

Lyrics, Edit, English, Grillz, Hollywood, Nelly Paul Wall And Ali Gipp from WordPress https://ift.tt/3glnMCl via IFTTT

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danithebookaholic-blog · 6 years

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SPOTLIGHT!

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Obake Neko (Ghost Cat): A Pacific Tale

By David Michael Gillespie

Publication Date: May 31, 2018 Genre: Mystery, Historical Fiction

Synopsis:

It begins with a disappearance… In the waning days of World War II, the Obake Neko is the last surviving Sen-Toku—a huge secret aircraft-carrier submarine created by the Imperial Japanese Navy. As the war comes to an end, the Obake Neko sets sail back to Japan with a cargo of unimaginable value. In the chaos of Japanese surrender, the clandestine vessel and its crew vanish in the seas of the South Pacific.

Fifty-five years after the war’s end, former U.S. Navy pilot, Bud Brennan breaks into Pearl Harbor’s submarine museum in Hawaii. Bud’s son, Mike, is still raw from the death of his wife and grappling with a new career but still jumps in to help his dad. But when Bud’s antics garner the attention of the Navy’s JAG, Mike realizes his father may possess knowledge about the near-mythical Obake Neko and its fabled cargo—knowledge that is also of great value to the Japanese Yakuza. Now, Mike must scramble to learn the whole truth of his father’s decades-old connection with the legendary Japanese submarine and fight to defend his father from relentless military authorities and deadly Yakuza operatives. Even decades later, the Obake Neko and its legendary cargo are still worth killing over.

Can Mike discover the truth and protect his dad before deadly assailants succeed in silencing Bud forever?

Goodreads

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Excerpt:

Mike jogged to his car and sped out of the parking garage, fuming about the confrontation with his uncle. He shook his head—some confrontation. Heavy traffic on Nimitz Highway forced him to slow down. Honolulu has some of the worst rush-hour traffic in the nation, he thought. He either had to take the stop-and-go roads around the shoreline or line up bumper to bumper on the freeway.

As Mike drove to Pearl Harbor, he checked himself in the rear-view mirror at the first stoplight. His curly, coal-black hair had a few uneven patches. Under a wide forehead, his chocolate-colored eyes and long eyelashes gave him bedroom eyes that some women admired. He’d let his facial hair grow out to a stubble, trimming it once every few days. Mike still maintained his swimmer’s build, broad shoulders and a narrow waist. The rowing machine at home kept him in shape, along with his bird-like appetite that used to drive Spit crazy.

Turning left inside the Pearl Harbor Halawa Gate, the sentry ordered him to pull into the parking lot next to the base’s security office. He walked up a ramp and stepped inside, spotting his father sitting on a bench on the left. His seventy-eight-year-old father’s boyish good looks let him get away with a lot, but not today.

A petite warrant officer banged away on an old typewriter atop a worn desk on the other side of a long Formica counter that ran the length of the compact office. Bud was calm—too calm. Normally, he was outgoing and chatting up anyone around him, always flashing a smile and giving a wink, but not today. He was quiet and ignored Mike as soon as he strolled in.

Bud stood up, spread his arms out, and shouted over the counter, “Am I good to go now, Officer?”

“Sure, Mr. Brennan. Just need your son to sign off on the release forms. Then you’re good.”

Mike smiled. His dad glared at him. “You find something amusing about this situation, young man? You think this is funny?”

Mike held Bud in a steady gaze. “No, there’s nothing funny about breaking into a federal building and removing and destroying classified documents.”

His dad stood and smirked. “Allegedly broke into the building. They won’t find my fingerprints anywhere. And those papers were hardly classified.”

Mike opened his mouth to reply, but the warrant officer had stopped typing and stared at the two of them. Mike reached for the clipboard she offered and signed where she pointed, returned it with a “thank you,” before pivoting and heading toward the door.

“Let’s get out of here, Dad. We can discuss this later.”

Bud cut in front of him. “There’s nothing to discuss,” he said as he bolted out of the room.

Bud waited as Mike unlocked his car and they both jumped in. Neither made any attempt

at conversation. On the way home, Mike almost turned up the road to their old house in Aiea. Bud had chosen that house when they first moved to Hawaii because it overlooked Pearl Harbor. The view from the house’s lanai sighted straight in line with the Ford Island Airport runway that sat in the middle of the harbor.

Bud then sold that home and got together with Mike’s father-in-law to build a two-story duplex at the top of Alewa Heights in Kalihi. Both dads split the purchase and construction costs, giving the ownership as a wedding present to their children. The new unit—a white with black trim house—offered a two-hundred-seventy-degree panoramic view from Diamond Head to the plains of west Oahu. It was so high up you could see inside Punchbowl Crater, the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific. His mother lay buried there and his dad would join her after he passed.

They pulled off the freeway in Kalihi and drove up the four-mile meandering climb to the top of Alewa Heights. It was an old ’50s neighborhood with narrow roads not meant for parking, and odd-angled street intersections that made it difficult to recall which way to turn.

Halfway up, at one stop sign, you mounted a small steep hill. It forced you to trust that anyone driving up on the other side stayed in their lane. Mike remembered how Spit liked to recreate the scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, where Indy steps out on the invisible ledge to find the chalice across the abyss. Every time, Spit would place her right hand over her heart as they hit the peak, like Indy in the movie, before having a fit of giggles. He couldn’t help but smile every time he drove this way, even now that she was gone.

The Alewa house contained three residences. Mike lived on the bottom level. The upper level held two separate apartments; one for his father and one for Spit’s dad, along with a generous communal area and a compact kitchen shared by both.

Mike parked in the carport. Bud jumped out and climbed up the stairs to the entrance to the second-level apartments he shared with Spit’s father, Tadashi Fujimoto. Tadashi ranked as a seventh dan black belt in aikido, a martial art where the movements are designed around a total defensive strategy. Everyone addressed him as Sensei.

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Early in Mike’s relationship with Spit, she had told him her dad had been a judo instructor in Japan to Imperial Japanese Navy officer cadets during WWII. He’d lost most of the vision in his left eye in a training mishap, which kept him from frontline battle. After the war, he became absorbed in aikido in the late 1940s, admiring its smooth defensive movements. He wound up devoting five years to mastering aikido. In 1955, he’d gained employment at the Osaka Police Department to teach aikido’s opponent-controlling tactics to new recruits.

Four years later, Sensei got an opportunity, while on a Japan-sponsored goodwill trip to Honolulu, to demonstrate his martial art skills to the island police departments. He caught the attention of several top officers, who realized his value and offered him employment in their cadet training school. Sensei had jumped at the chance and moved to Hawaii. Over time, he picked up the basics of English and, with the help of the police department, became a US citizen.

As he stepped out of the car, Mike heard Sensei calling him from the curb. To keep in shape, Sensei often took walks up and down Alewa Heights’ steep hills. Sensei was short, balding, and slightly stooped, with his head constantly moving to give his good eye the best

view. Mike always marveled at how much Sensei resembled Shintaro Katsu, the Japanese actor who played the long-standing role of the fictional character, Zatoichi, a blind masseur, and secret swordsman during Japan’s feudal period. His three daughters affectionately called him “Z.”

Sensei marched up to Mike and put his right hand on his shoulder. “Your dad no come home last night. Any problems?”

“Yes, he’s got problems.” Mike hesitated, then asked, “Can you call my cell phone if he’s not in by midnight next time, please? Just for the next couple of nights? I’m worried about him.”

His father-in-law nodded yes, and Mike appreciated that he asked no details. There’d be another time to ask for advice, which he always gave without judgment. Turning toward the house, Mike bounced up the stairs ahead of Sensei and stepped inside the communal area. He walked to his father’s door and lightly knocked.

“Come on in,” his father mumbled. Bud’s apartment was a two-room suite with a full bath. Sensei’s setup was the same on the opposite side of the house. Mike strode through the navy-blue painted living room, which contained an old, dirty-brown La-Z-Boy facing a twenty-five-inch TV on a flimsy stand. In the center of the room stood a bulky antique dining table that Bud used to work on the museum plans. Behind it, a one-of-a-kind rolltop desk sat pushed up against the outside wall, across from the entry. The Hickam Air Force Base carpenters had built the beast in the 1940s. Made of solid koa wood, it weighed a ton and was worth its weight in gold. Bud had his connections.

As Mike stepped into the bedroom, he looked at his dad lying in bed on his back, staring at the ceiling. At six feet, two inches, Bud seemed to smother his queen-size bed. He still had a decent physique for his age, but hip problems slowed him down. Bud didn’t turn to look at Mike. Bright fluorescent lights flooded the room. A faded mahogany bedroom set—a wedding gift from his mother’s parents—was the only furniture. Two low nightstands, a highboy dresser, and a four-poster bed.

Whenever he entered Bud’s room, Mike’s eyes always gravitated to his parents’ wedding picture, on the dresser in the far corner. They had been married three weeks after Lieutenant Brennan returned from the Pacific War theater. Mom had worn a simple off-white dress with a wide square neck, large buttons down the middle of the front, and delicate lace draping off her shoulders. The photographer had positioned the newlyweds looking to the left. Their life together had barely begun.

After the war, Bud used the GI Bill to enter an Ivy League school—Bucknell University. Because he didn’t come from a well-bred family, Bucknell wouldn’t have touched him before the war, but post-war, the government made them take him. In three years he’d earned his electrical engineering degree and gotten a job at the Pennsylvania Power and Light Company, where he worked until he moved with Mike to Hawaii, two years after his mom had passed away.

Mike’s thoughts returned to the present, and he observed his father exhale loudly and keep shaking his head.

“I screwed up royally. All these years. I thought it would never come up. I’m lost about what to do, really lost.” Bud looked like he might cry.

“Well, things may not be too bad,” Mike said. He was uncomfortable with his father’s outburst. They had developed a long-standing unspoken agreement on dealing with emotions. Both kept their own council. This is what it had evolved into over the last twenty-plus years since his mom passed. Small talk only, don’t bring up heavy stuff, and no venting of feelings. Mom had been their heart, their glue, but she was gone.

“Not today’s shit,” Bud said. He paused and closed his eyes and whispered, “I thought I’d never again have to deal with that damn black cat sub.”

Mike leaned over his dad. “What are you talking about? What sub? The sub that rescued you in the Pacific at the end of the war?”

“No, not that one. The first one that saved me.”

His dad rolled over onto his side, away from him. “Never mind. I’m tired and need to sleep. We’ll talk later.”

Mike blinked twice, then roughly ran his fingers through his hair. He stood there, unsure of what to say or do next. Within a few minutes he heard Bud’s heavy breathing, so he switched off the overhead lights, closed the bedroom door, and wandered into the communal area. Sensei sat on the sofa waiting for him.

“Sensei, I need to go back to work. I hope we can talk later.”

“Sure thing, Mike. When you ready.”

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Purchase:

Amazon

Author Bio:

David Gillespie moved to Hawaii as a teenager, where he attended public schools and graduated with a BBA and MBA from the University of Hawaii at Manoa.

Gillespie has had a varied career in Hawaii’s business community. As a consultant with a University of Hawaii program, he traveled to many Pacific Island nations. His experiences in these exotic locales, along with his keen interest and research about the Sen-Toku Japanese submarines, inform and enhance his writing.

Gillespie is retired and has taken up home improvement projects, earned a private pilot license, and works on writing historical adventure novels. He continues to enjoy life in Hawaii, his home, with his family and a tuxedo cat named Tick Tock.

Goodreads

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From one bookaholic to another, I hope I’ve helped you find your next fix. —Dani

Have a book you’d like to suggest or one you’d like me to review? Please feel free to leave your comments down below.

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thecloudlight-blog · 7 years

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New Post has been published on Cloudlight

New Post has been published on https://cloudlight.biz/how-roger-ailes-and-fox-news-changed-the-world/

How Roger Ailes and Fox News changed the world

To some quantity, all of us live in the world News that Roger Ailes bequeathed us whilst he died in Palm Beach, Florida, on Thursday, bleeding onto his mind after a fall.

It is a world of shiny color and actuality of view, of countless risk and hyper-vigilance. The world wherein true and evil is delineated by using presenters with lustrous hair and wonderful teeth and wherein lubricated catheters, gold cash and reverse mortgages are hawked via lively retirees.

Ailes, as an awful lot of any other unmarried man or woman

No longer simplest created the political environment that allowed Donald Trump to emerge as president, however an information and political model that has swept the western international, such as Australia.

Ailes turned into the writer of Fox News, the tough right cable news channel that got here to dominate American politics and that made Rupert Murdoch one of the maximum effective guys on earth.

Last 12 months, as Murdoch started the painful procedure of passing manage of his empire to the following technology, his sons Lachlan and James compelled Ailes to renounce due to an unpleasant sexual harassment scandal. This 12 months they sacked Ailes’s largest star, Bill O’Reilly for the equal cause. A Washington Post columnist tweeted that to mark Ailes’s death “Skirts at Fox might be reduced to half of-mast.”

Ailes became loathed as a whole lot as he turned into love, but no longer even his most trenchant critics ever doubted his genius for the medium he formed.

Ailes learned politics as a younger guy as a media representative to Richard Nixon and went directly to recommend Ronald Reagan and George HW Bush.

Murdoch employed him to release Fox News in 1996 and it without delay prominent itself with its shiny hues and clarity of vision. It did not begin to surge in scores until the September 11 assaults (while it has become the first information outlet to consist of a ticker across the bottom of the screen) and the 2003 invasion of Iraq. Drenched in muscular patriotism it became to grow to be the maximum profitable arm of Murdoch’s worldwide empire.

Roger Clemens Workout

Roger Clemens exercising has executed legendary fame. Not most effective have Roger Clemens controlled to live in shape and in shape for over 15 years, he also has stayed harm unfastened for the most part. See it wasn’t long ago that he turned into skinny and small and regardless of the drug problems surrounding his training, there is nonetheless lots that we are able to analyze from Roger Clemens exercising.

Most people have visible the clips performed again and again of Roger and his teacher appearing crunches, smith machine squats, and agility drills but I guess that there has been a lot greater involved than simply the ones few movements. I’d be inclined to be that Roger Clemens workout targeted on some principles inclusive of the rotator cuff and shoulder health, upper body power and lower body explosive power and agility. So what would possibly Roger have completed?

Well for starters he could greater than probably have squatted or lifeless lifted quite often due to the fact that the one’s movements are absolutely the satisfactory for growing lower frame explosive power. Any pitcher could be smart to pick one of those lifts and teach at least twice in step with the week on the way to enhance those regions. They simply have to be the base of any lower body software. You can lunge and do unmarried leg movements all that you need however without a squat or a dead carry your decrease body training goes to be lagging at the back of others.

The Roger Clemens exercise also ought to consist of a few heavy upper frame movement.

Too many human beings suppose that pitching is all about decrease body power and that is incorrect. While the decrease body is crucial without each top frame strength and versatility then you’re done. Pitching comes down to shoulder fitness so if Roger performed a unique lower frame exercise then tried to throw together with his legs the ball could have gotten hit out of the park every time.

His top body ordinary ought to of consisted of each chest urgent and cable urgent and chopping actions. This way he can paintings in each an electricity and functional manner. Having him rely upon one or the alternative does wouldn’t always get him stronger sufficient. Another essential thing inside the Roger Clemons exercise is rotator cuff health. He needs to of warmed up with numerous shoulder outside rotation movements and mid back strengthening sports like rows and single arm rows.

There ought to have additionally been a good buy of a shoulder, higher percent, neck and again stretching involved as nicely. Pitching the manner Roger did could surely have tightened those regions up as a way to maintain him healthful all of these additives need to have been part of the Roger Clemons exercise.

Summer Fuel Prices: The Latest News

What to anticipate this summer season – will gas fees move up?

Spring is almost right here, but anyone is looking forward to what will occur this summer time in phrases of gas charges. Projections from experts abound on what to expect when it comes to car gasoline costs, with much of the effect relying on the course of the new Trump management as it relates to market dynamics. Here is an outlook from Alan Levine and Brian Milne on crude, gas, diesel (heating oil), propane and natural gas as pronounced by using Fuel Marketer News (FMN).

Gasoline

This is one area wherein there’s lots of delivering but weak demand. At the second maximum on record, there is already too much gasoline flooding the marketplace. In reality, retail costs are better by 50 cents now than the equal time remaining year. The summer should inject a bit of a lift into the economy, as employment is at the upward push with extra task profits occurring.

Also, thanks to the Corporate Average Fuel Economy (CAFE) standards, mileage enhancements are keeping excessive demand at bay. In Mexico, fuel exports are on the rise, as their demand grows because of a more potent economic system. Gasoline charges are predicted to remain stable for the summer time when an increase is possible to occur. The average price of $2.39/gal in 2017 is anticipated.

Propane

Propane should lead exports, as it’s a totally strong product in the interim. If you are going to buy propane, now could be the time to do not forget. Its fee is seeking to be 10 to twelve cents inexpensive in 12 months, as it emerges as an opportunity fuel in industries like road creation and landscape work.

Crude

At among $50 and $55 in keeping with the barrel, for the time being, crude is experiencing an abundant deliver no longer simplest inside the United States but at some stage in the arena too. Many elements may stabilize crude expenses within the coming months, especially OPEC’s current production cuts which might be currently propping expenses up.

Also at the upward push are claims of excessive levels of compliance by way of distant places producers, especially from Saudi Arabia, which says they would be open to deeper cuts in manufacturing if dishonest increases all over again. As an aside, shale oil technology is an effective shape of fuel 12 months over 12 months, however, it is nevertheless more high-priced than conventional oil.

Natural Gas

Natural fuel is growing in demand, outpacing deliver in Dec. 2016 for the first time inside the U.S. Mild weather this iciness is guilty, as is the impact of LNG exports on charges and call for of herbal gasoline. The new trade coverage of the Trump management may also keep guiding this.

Diesel

Also known as a commercial gas, diesel has been strong with high demand for distillates. The best place where this isn’t authentic is with No. 2 heating oil. Again, hotter-than-ordinary January and February temperatures are responsible. Distillate consumption became at the 1/3-lowest level inside the last 15 years.

If you have more questions about what gas fees will seem like this summer and all 12 months round, touch Taylor Oil name today or go to Fuel Marketer News (FMN)

Taylor Oil Company keeps America transferring. The most useful issue of on-website online fueling services to construction crews, contractors, boats and marinas along the East Coast and past, Taylor Oil offers the very best exceptional fuel, diesel fuel and other petroleum merchandise 24 hours and afternoon, seven days every week. Our gadget is synchronized in your agenda, assuring your potential to maintain machinery running and projects profitable.

World Championship Rings

World Series jewelry is awards given to every participant in Major League baseball who has received the World Series. Started inside the 1922 World Series when jewelry was given to the participants of the triumphing team, the New York Giants, courtesy agencies like Tiffany& Co or Balfour, they have grown in stature and length. They flaunt the group’s brand in treasured stones like diamonds and rubies and are set in 14 karats white gold. Teams buying their very own individuals have a system of the type with the grandest jewelry for their top games and watered down versions for players decrease down the rank and group employees. While the first jewelry had multiple diamonds, the modern-day version has over two hundred diamonds!

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