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sweetchup · 3 years

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Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

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Vol. 2: Into the Deep // Ch. 9

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 2,000+

⚠️Warning⚠️: Mature Content

Masterlist

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Minutes, perhaps hours went by as the scenes continued to shift in front of you. Some scenes were consistent, such as Triton’s bedroom, the main hall or the back garden, while others, not so much.

After seeing Triton’s and Poseidon’s first meeting you haven’t made a peep. Choosing instead to listen carefully to the grand voice that controlled this plane or what was happening in the scene in front of you. You wanted to take in all that was happening.

Soon, perhaps too soon, the final scene appears. Just like where they had met, this final scene took place in Triton’s bedroom.

Triton, now 1 year old, was alone with Scylla as she attempted to teach him how to walk. Hoping to get him to walk a little bit before his father stopped by for the day.

“Come slowly to me, Master Triton.” Scylla coos out at the child. Shaking Triton’s favorite toy in the boy’s direction to get his attention. “Try to lift—“

“Scylla!”

Scylla is startled as suddenly Maria, a laundry maid and her friend, comes barreling through the door.

“Maria? What’s the matter?” Scylla asks the younger woman as she picks up Triton and makes her way over.

“Y-You need to hide! Lady Amphitrite caught wind of you spending time with Poseidon-n when you were taking care of Lord Triton and took it the wrong way. She’s on her way right now.” Maria frantically explains as she wipes the sweat off her brow. Instantaneous getting to work to hide Triton’s toys. Knowing that if Lady Amphitrite found such nice things she would get suspicious of Lord Poseidon’s feelings for Triton.

All of a sudden a long crashing noise rings out from outside, frantically Scylla runs to the window to look outside. It was Amphitrite. She didn’t have much time.

“Maria. Take Lord Triton and hide him under the clothes in your basket as you make your way to the Laundry room.” Scylla frantically explains as she hands Triton off to the younger woman.

“B-But what about you?”

“I can’t worry about myself right now. If she comes here in her current state of mind, even Triton won’t be protected from her wrath.” Scylla mumbles out, fear dripping in her veins as she pushes Maria out of the room. Making sure no one was near, she grabs the basket and, with Maria’s help, carefully covers Triton in the dirty sheets. “Please be safe, my Lord.”

“Be safe yourself, Scylla. Try not to anger Lady Amphitrite more than she already is.”

“I will try.”

And with that, Maria leaves. Running away from the scene as Scylla shuts the door to Triton’s room. Accepting her fate.

“Please, Lord Poseidon. Make it back in time. For Lord Triton’s sake—“

“Where is she?!” A booming screeching voice resounds from out in the hallway. One that even sent shivers up your spine as you watched on.

It only takes a couple of seconds for Amphitrite to find Scylla. Breaking down the door to Triton’s bedroom in the process. Her usual neat fiery red hair was a mess, tangled and astray in every which way. Her eyes were mad and furious, looking crazily at the nymph who kneeled on the ground before her.

“YOU.” Amphitrite booms out, furiously stomping her way over until she stands inches away from the Nymph. She scans the room, seeming to attempt to find something before turning to the guards, “Go find the Child.”

“Yes, My Lady.”

“M-My Lady. I beg of you, let me explain.” Scylla sputters out as she shakes in fear in front of her master. “Ah—“

Scylla quickly bites her lip to stop herself from screaming in pain as Amphitrite digs her heel into the back of Scylla’s hand.

“Explain what?” Amphitrite venomously spits out at the nymph.

“I-I was only trying to get Lord Poseidon to become closer with Lord Triton.”

“Trying to get them to become closer?” Amphitrite repeats through gritted teeth, digging her heel once more into Scylla’s hand before pacing away. “As if that asswipe would care about his own son. He doesn’t even look at his own wife. His beautiful gorgeous wi—“

Amphitrite’s rant comes to a screeching halt as Poseidon barges into the room. His eyes are cold and hard as he stares down his wife, his trusty trident clutched tightly in his fist. So tightly, you could even see his knuckles turning an unsightly white.

“Oh, if it isn’t Lord Poseidon. Here to save your whore?” Amphitrite bitterly spits out to her husband before laughing maniacally to herself as she tugs at her hair.

It was official, she had gone even more bad shit crazy than she already was.

“Enough. How many times have I told you to cut it out with that shit—“

“Poseidon!” Scylla shouts out as she makes her way to her feet and runs over to Poseidon. What in the world was she doing? Was she trying to anger Amphitrite?

“Maria. Maria has Triton.” You overhear Scylla murmur into Poseidon’s chest as she leans against the god. Poseidon seems to freeze a little and you understood why.

He either had to fight Amphitrite here, which could take a while, or go try to grab Triton before the guards find and take him.

“Poseidon, I love you. Please protect me.” Scylla shouts out as she pretends to weep. However, from where you and Poseidon were standing, you could see her mouth the words ‘Go’ and ‘leave’.

You feel your stomach drop. Scylla was putting up an act in front of Amphitrite so the attention would be on her. Giving Poseidon an excuse to leave and enough time to save Triton.

Poseidon seemed to know this as well as his grip tightened even more on his trident as he shook his head at the elder servant in front of him, “You fool.”

“We are caught. Do what you must.” Poseidon's voice booms out as he lowers his trident and walks away. Choosing not to even spare a second glance as he turns the corner.

“You…. YOU FUCKING COUG—“

As Amphitrite lungs at Scylla a blinding light over takes the room, officially ending the scene. The spirit of the mirror seemed to have done you a favor by sparing the gory and curse details that would happen only moments later.

Shaken up, you collapsed to the floor as you found yourself face to face with the mirror. You were back where you started.

“Lady (y/n)?” Startled out of your trance-like state, you turn to Scylla. The present day Scylla.

“S-Scylla I—“ You stutter out, scrambling to your feet. “I-I’m…”

“It’s fine.” Scylla states out with a sigh, seeming to already understand what you were trying to say. As she had already heard it many times before, “You don’t have to feel bad for—“

“Could I give you a hug?”

The elder woman pauses for a moment, “A hug?”

“A-Ah sorry. Is that disrespectful in any way? I just felt like you really needed a hug and…” You take a pause as you anxiously rub the back of your neck, “…I really need to give you one after seeing that.”

It’s silent for a moment as Scylla ponders your offer.

“…Fine.” Scylla sighs out as she massages her forehead. The wrinkles on her face smoothing slightly as she does so.

At Scylla's confirmation, you throw yourself into the sea monster’s arms. Being extra careful not to squash the Pomeranians that were attached to the front of her body as you do so.

Scylla lets out a small sigh before eventually wrapping her arms around you as well. What was she going to do with you?

She was old. Having been born around the same time Lord Poseidon and Zeus’ mother was born and she had seen many souls in her lifetime but…never like yours. It seemed normal when she first saw it, like any other human.

But, perhaps that’s what made it so special in the first place. For the simple fact that you were a normal human. Caring, empathy, weakness. Containing so many things higher beings are repulsed by.

Yet, you seemed to wear them with pride.

“What am I going to do with you, Lady (y/n)…” Scylla whispers lowly under her breath as she finally relaxes into your touch.

—.—.—.—.—

“Lord Poseidon. I just got the files from—“

“Put it over there.” Poseidon mutters out to his attendee, not even lifting his gaze from the paperwork he was working.

“Of course, sire.” The attendee, quick and quietly, places the papers down before exiting the room. Knowing not to disturb his lord longer than needed. As soon as a small thud of the door closing resounds, Poseidon’s pen stops and he finally lifts his head up.

He should be getting all this paperwork done in preparation for the upcoming cold season but he just couldn’t seem to focus.

What was it….

Poseidon usually wasn’t one to ponder on trivial things. After all, he was a god. If need be, all he had to do was say something and the problem would be taken care of swiftly. But, he couldn’t do that in this case.

Poseidon rubs his temple with a small grunt as he attempts to shake out the scene from last night out of his mind.

That blasted scene, again.

Shaking his head one last time, Poseidon stands up from his seat and walks over to the couch nearby. He needed to figure out what to do about you and, especially, Triton.

Foolish Brother.

If Zeus hadn’t egged Amphitrite on so much, he wouldn’t even be pondering this right now. He would simply just ignore the boy until those annoying feelings went away once more. But, he couldn’t do that with all those assasination attempts being made from Amphitrite.

Three Maids have already been caught trying to sneak weapons into the premises and Five more have been caught trying to poison your food. And that didn’t even begin to cover all the number of poisonous and deadly sea creatures that were sent into the area.

“What if our only Heir tried to eat her food, you blasted Woman,” Poseidon scoffed as he poured himself a glass of wine. He needed it after all, with the sun already setting and tons of paperwork still needing to get done, it was going to be a long night.

A loud knock suddenly comes at the door.

“Come in.”

“Hello, My Love.” Poseidon feels his eyebrow twitch in annoyance at Amphitrite’s sugary sweet tone. Great. It seemed another distraction had come knocking at his door.

“You should rest. Look at how tired you are.” Amphitrite coos out as she makes her way towards her husband, taking a seat on his lap before he could argue or shove her away. Gently and slowly, Amphitrite takes her fingers and traces Poseidon’s jaw line. “You're so tense. Let me help you relax.”

Poseidon grunts out in distaste as Amphitrite places a kiss on his throat. Slowly, beginning to place more as she goes on.

This woman…

Poseidon sighs out lightly as he shakes his head. Let her do as she pleases for now. If she causes a tantrum now, it will only cause more trouble later.

As Poseidon takes a particularly deep sigh this time, he accidentally catches a wift of Amphitrite’s perfume on her neck.

Jasmine and Sandalwood, He can’t help but note. Two very strong, sexy scents. Ones that even more solidified Amphitrite dominate and Sultry personality. Any other man would probably be drooling on the spot from such a scent but not Poseidon. Never Poseidon. To him, it only overwhelmed his senses so much that it was starting to give him a headache.

What a pain.

As Poseidon tries to slip deep in his thoughts to ignore the oncoming headache, his thoughts accidentally slip back to you. As if summoned, the warm scent of cedar wood and vanilla overtake his senses. The same exact scent he caught on you when you were leaning against his shoulder while he was carrying you yesterday.

Damn it. Poseidon grits his teeth. Why can’t he seem to get her out of his head? He definitely needed to investigate this more. For this wasn’t normal. Just hours prior, he was reimagining her ghost-like touch on his hand.

“Tch.” Poseidon lets out as he is broken from his thoughts. Instantly grabbing onto his wife’s hand that, while he was lost in dreamworld, had travelled down much further than he appreciated. “Enough.”

“Don’t lie, My Lord.” Amphitrite purrs out, as leans more into her husband, “I could feel how hard you were starting to get for—“

“Enough.” Poseidon repeats again, this time pushing Amphitrite off of him so that she falls to the floor in front of him. “You are foolish to think I don’t know what you are up to.”

“Am I not allowed to spend t—“

“I’ve already heard from the servants about how you’ve been drinking and consuming things to boost your fertility recently.” Poseidon reveals as he swirls the wine in his glass, “If you think I’m going to knock you up once again with a child, you are gravely mistaken.”

Taking his gaze away from the wine, he glares down at Amphitrite, whose mood has now greatly soured. Practically foaming at the mouth from anger.

“If you are going to have a pathetic temper tantrum then leave.” Poseidon orders out, closing his eyes as he decides she is not worth looking at.

It is only at the deafening sound of the door being slammed that he opens them again once more. Amphitrite was long gone, her only traces being the cracks left on the wall from the door and a lingering scent of Jasmine.

However, Poseidon couldn’t care less. She could throw all the tantrums she wants but he would never have sex with her. For the one, and only, mistake he ever admits to making was accidentally getting her pregnant.

And, he has no intentions of making that same mistake again.

Author Note: As I warned before, Poseidon scene is a little weird. Like Bro, pull yourself together. But at least now that the reader nows what is going on from Scylla so Plans and events will be in motion. Especially since reader has to decided if should hate or possibly help Poseidon with his relationship with Triton. Onto the next chapter :)).

Also Decided to post this Chapter earlier since the other one got posted late yesterday’s

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq @sproutcorner @orophaea @anime-lover-forever-1127 @fortuna-stella @icy-spicy

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #snv poseidon x reader #snv #snv poseidon #record of ragnarok #bivalve

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

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dance me to the end of love (i)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential spoilers for the west wing if you've never seen the show

series masterpost: here

a/n: hi!! i am so incredibly happy to finally be putting this fic out into the world. it means an awful lot to me and i can't wait to share the little world i've created :)) x

Magdalene is content with where she’s ended up.

Denver is wonderful. Her friends are there, her cat is there, and it’s the perfect place for a fresh start. She arrived in the city nearly six years ago – a wide-eyed University of Denver freshman and has stayed put ever since. Her hometown of Aspen holds a few too many bad memories, but is close enough that she can return if an emergency calls for it. So far she hasn’t left, too engrossed in finishing her degree and moving on. There’s a job offer lined up with the university’s library upon graduation that Magdalene is ecstatic about. It means she gets to stay right where she is – where she’s comfortable.

☼☼☼☼

The sun might be shining as she exits her apartment building, but it’s cold for March. Magdalene pulls the thick scarf her best friend Bette got her for Christmas higher up her face and walks as quickly as possible to campus. There’s a brief meeting to attend with her advisor before grabbing lunch with Bette, and then her plan is to spend the rest of the day holed up in the library working on her thesis. It’s due in two weeks, with the defence in just over a month, and Magdalene is incredibly nervous. Though she’d gone through submitting her undergraduate thesis two years ago, presenting her master’s research was going to be a lot harder. She’s heard through the grapevine that the committees are being tough this year and she doesn’t want to fail.

Dr. Williams is waiting for her in his office with a smile on his face. He’s a tall man, with thin facial features and wire glasses that box him perfectly into the intimidating professor stereotype. “Miss Stevenson, please sit,” he gestures to the chair across from him.

“Gerald,” she sighs, “You can call me Magdalene, I don’t mind. Besides, it makes you quite the hypocrite if you insist I call you by your first name but you won’t use mine.” There’s no malice in her voice, just a decent amount of teasing.

The older man scoffs but concedes. “I suppose you’re right. Well then Magdalene, tell me, how are your final edits coming along?”

Magdalene spends nearly twenty minutes detailing all the elements she has tweaked since their last meeting, from the title to the citation style. She’s out of breath by the time she’s done, rambling at an impressive speed, and takes a big gasp of air while the professor mulls over her words. Dr. Williams doesn’t say anything, causing Magdalene to shift anxiously in her seat. “Sir, is there something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing,” he beams, “Everything is perfect. It’s a shame you don’t want to continue researching. You’d make a fabulous academic.”

The compliment makes Magdalene’s heart soar. It means a lot, especially coming from the person who has seen her cry over the oxford comma. “Thank you sir, but I belong in the practical realm. Someone has to file all the documents you obsessively scan.”

She leaves the building soon after, promising to stop by after she drops off the final draft in a few weeks. It’s a bit later than she expected and hopes Bette won’t be mad. There’s nothing the blonde hates more than poor time management, but Magdalene prays she’ll understand. It wasn’t that long ago and Bette was scheduling her own appointments with advisors on how to graduate. Barn Owl Book Company is located halfway between the school and her apartment, making it the perfect spot to meet. In addition to being a used book store, Barn Owl sports one of the best cafés in downtown Denver. Bette is perched delicately at her friend’s favourite seat, a bay window converted into a small nook, and typing furiously on her phone.

“Sorry I’m late,” Magdalene apologizes, “Williams talked a lot more than I expected him to.”

Bette looks up and smiles, shoving a cup in the other girl’s direction. “As always. How is he?”

Sliding into the booth, Magdalene fills her friend in on what’s been going on in their former professor’s life. Bette graduated with a minor in Classics, and it was Magdalene's major, but the former decided not to further her education and is instead doing full time charity work for the Colorado Avalanche. Her boyfriend Tyson is one of their star players, and the two of them are so smitten it makes Magdalene sick. Conversation quickly turns from school to life, which she’s grateful for.

“So,” Bette says, “Are you in for the trip this summer? I’ve got to confirm the reservation in a week or something.”

“I don’t know Bee, I'm going to be the new girl. Asking for time off like two months into the job would be rude.”

“Linny,” the blonde whines, “Please? I want you to come.”

Magdalene scowls. Bette knows just how much the nickname sours her mood but she chose to use it anyway. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps with quite a bite. “Can someone else take my spot if I decide not to go a little closer to the date?”

“Of course! Gravy said he’d fill an extra spot if one comes up so we don’t lose the deposit,” Bette blabs before trying to switch gears entirely. Magdalene cuts her off.

“Who’s Gravy?”

If her friend is exasperated by Magdalene’s lack of knowledge surrounding hockey, she doesn’t show it. Bette calmly explains that Gravy, who’s real name is Ryan, is a defenceman with the Avalanche and a good friend of Tyson’s. She also makes a point of mentioning that he’s single, to which Magdalene rolls her eyes. Bette has a masterplan for her life – which includes her best friend becoming romantically involved with an Avalanche player so the two of them can live the better half life together. As the best friend, Magdalene is constantly barraged with potential players who are looking to date. Once she went on a few dates with Mikko, but that ended fairly quickly when the two realized they were better as friends. Every time since she’s turned Bette down as gently as possible, not wanting to get involved with anyone. Her life is just starting, and Magdalene wants to be secure before settling down.

The conversation eventually shifts to what Magdalene plans to wear for both her thesis defence and graduation. Bette is fashion savvy, while Magdalene is decidedly not. Her everyday wardrobe consists of collared button-downs and sweater vests, which is supposedly never going to back a comeback, according to Bette at least. The blonde eventually wears Magdalene down, and secures a position as stylist for the graduation ceremony. There was an attempt at the thesis defence, but the other girl insists she needs to be as comfortable as possible on such a stressful occasion.

A glance to the clock on the opposite wall has Magdalene stretching her arms and giving an apologetic glance to her friend on the other side of the table. “I should go,” she says. “I’ve got to put in some serious work on my citations today, and you know Caligula doesn’t like it when I’m gone all day.”

Bette rolls her eyes, but there isn’t any frustration behind the gesture. “I swear to god Mags, your cat has more separation anxiety than I do. Speaking of, I’m supposed to pick Tyson up at the airport and I’m running behind.”

“Tell him I say hi,” Magdalene says as she wraps her arms around Bette for a quick hug.

The two girls part ways on the sidewalk, with Magdalene heading back to campus and Bette sliding into the sleek Audi she shares with her boyfriend. Headphones find their way into her ears, and Magdalene listens to a random comedy podcast. Once tucked safely inside the library she’ll put on her favourite lo-fi playlist and concentrate, but for now she just enjoys the funny anecdotes of stories past.

It’s quiet in the library for a Tuesday, though Magdalene isn’t complaining. Her favourite table, the one she swears up and down is the only reason she ever gets anything done, is open, and she all but sprints to place her bag on the worn leather chair. While setting up her work station a few of the librarians come over to offer their congratulations for her upcoming job. News certainly travels fast around here, Magdalene thinks, but accepts their generosity with a smile on her face. They leave her alone soon enough and the tedious work of double checking the formatting of every single citation in the sixty-five page paper begins.

Hours pass, and Magdalene stays working in the library until as late as she possibly can. Caligula is going to start to worry about the length of her absence soon and his anxiety response of knocking over plants is not a mess she feels like cleaning up. She packs up her laptop and walks the short distance home as fast as possible.

“Little boots, I’m home,” Magdalene parrots in a sing-song voice as she slips her jacket off her shoulders and onto the hanger. At the sound of his nickname, the small cat bounds into the entryway. “Hi darling, did you miss me?” Magdalene gets an obnoxiously loud purr in response that she takes it as a yes. She reaches down to pick up the tiny animal before continuing further into the apartment, scratching behind his ears as she does so. The two of them settle into the respectably sized couch, where they stay for the rest of the night watching reruns of The West Wing before Magdalene falls asleep.

☼☼☼☼

“You fucking did it!” Bette shrieks as she bounds towards her best friend. Magdalene braces herself for the oncoming assault, and manages to keep them both upright after Bette jumps into her arms.

Her thesis defence had just finished, and the committee found Magdalene a worthy candidate for the Master of Information Science qualification. The presentation itself was open to the public, so Bette and Tyson sat in the front row to support Magdalene, but were escorted out for the conversation that followed. The two girls had developed a code so the news could be shared in a subtle way, though Bette threw the original plan out the window as soon as she saw her friend give a sneaky thumbs up when the conference room door opened.

“Congrats Mags,” Tyson says sincerely, doing his best not to add to the growing spectacle, but Magdalene can tell he wants to give her a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, “And thank you guys for coming. It means a lot.” As two of her closest friends, both Bette and Tyson know that her family situation is rocky at best, and having them act as her support system means more than she’ll ever be able to articulate.

The couple shares a knowing look before engulfing their friend in a hug. “We’re always going to be here for you,” Bette whispers, “No matter what.”

Magdalene’s smile is so genuine it crinkles her eyes as she wraps her arms around Bette and Tyson’s shoulders and leads them out the door and into the sunshine. The group continues to the parking lot, where they climb into Tyson’s car and drive off campus in the direction of Magdalene’s favourite restaurant. Though she had tried to convince her friends they didn’t need to celebrate, she failed, and Magdalene soon finds herself laughing hysterically over a plate of carbonara as Tyson tells a story about the shenanigans the team got up to on their last road trip.

There’s a game tonight, and Bette has somehow convinced her into attending. Magdalene knows she should go, expand her social horizons a little, but all she wants to do is curl up in bed and sleep for three weeks. Her one condition is that she can go home straight after the game without being guilted into following the group to whatever nightclub they’ll celebrate the win or drink away the loss in. Tyson has to get ready so he drops the two girls off at Magdalene's apartment complex. She’s in charge of getting Bette to the rink, and she’ll leave with her boyfriend after the game.

Once inside the confines of her home, Magdalene promptly lies on the floor. “Holy shit,” she sighs, “I did it. I fucking did it.”

“You did!” Bette says as she lies down beside her best friend. “I’m so fucking proud of you, and Tyson is too. Even if he won’t tackle you in public to prove it.”

The comment garners a laugh from Magdalene, which alerts Caligula to the presence of others in the apartment. He pads over the rug currently being occupied by two adults, and snuggles into the small space between them. Bette and Magdalene continue to lay there, petting the cat and looking back fondly on all the times Magdalene called her friend in tears because she didn’t think she could push herself any farther. Bette was always there to pick up the slack, editing whatever section Magdalene was working on or to bring over a hot meal. Her support earned her the top spot in the acknowledgements section of the thesis.

Ball Arena is already crawling with people when Magdalene pulls into the small lot for player’s and their families. Normally she parks with the general public, but Bette insists they watch this game from the better halves box, and these spaces are closer to that entrance.

“Stop dragging your feet,” the blonde chastises as Magdalene takes her time cutting the engine. “I want to get a glass of rosé before they sell out.”

Sighing, Magdalene follows her orders. “Don’t you have a special bar in the box?” she asks while locking the car.

“Yeah, but the other girls are absolute fiends. They’ll drink it all before we get there with no remorse.”

The girls climb the stairs to the better halves box, Bette chatting excitedly about the game, but Magdalene stops just before the entrance. She’s met most of the others on multiple occasions and has nothing to worry about, but she can’t help but feel anxious. Her life is so different than everyone else’s in the space, and it feels like cheating when she’s there because she isn’t romantically involved with anyone on the roster. Bette likes to joke that she’s her better half, but Magdalene knows it’s said just to calm her nerves.

“It’ll be fine,” Bette whispers while squeezing her hand, “And if you get too uncomfortable we can find some seats in the nosebleeds.”

Once inside Magdalene’s nerves dissipate. Most of the other wives and girlfriends pay her no mind, but the ones that are especially close to Bette congratulate her on passing her defence. It warms her heart a little, and the small group Magdalene finds herself in settles down to watch the game unfold.

It’s a fairly intense one between Colorado’s division rival St. Louis. Both teams are fighting for first place in the conference, and a win for the Avalanche would put them three points ahead of the Blues instead of one. Players from both sides are amped up, and more than once a scrum at the net has turned into a dog-pile. Colorado is outplaying the other team, but have still managed to find themselves a goal short heading into the final period. At the buzzer Tyson takes the face-off and is immediately shoved by a member of the opposite team. He goes down hard, and Bette squeezes Magdalene’s hand so tightly she fears it will lose blood flow. Silence falls over the arena as Tyson doesn’t immediately get up. The inside of lip finds its way between her teeth and Magdalene bites down hard, worried about her friend. She’s so focussed on Tyson that she doesn’t notice a fight breaking out.

“Holy shit, Gravy is going to town!”

The remark is made by someone Magdalene recognizes as Gabe Landeskog’s wife, and it makes her peel her eyes off of Bette’s worried features and scan the ice for some action. Sure enough, a very tall man is laying right hooks to someone who looks significantly smaller than him on the Avalanche blue line. The referees let the fight continue until Tyson drags himself off the ice and onto the bench before separating the men and throwing them in the penalty box. Magdalene can tell words are still being exchanged from both sides of the glass, but she’s more focussed on the fact Tyson doesn’t make his way to the dressing room – a good sign that allows Bette to drop her hand and let out a shaky breath.

Nothing of great importance happens until MacKinnon ties the game with seven minutes left. It happens while the Avalanche are short handed, and the goal seems to light a fire beneath the team. Magdalene may not know much about hockey, but she’s smart enough to notice the insane amount of energy all the players suddenly have. Time ticks by slowly and before she realizes it, the final face-off is taking place. Luckily it’s in the St. Louis zone and won by Colorado. The puck is tipped back to the same player who got in the fight for Tyson, Gravy, and he one times it right into the back of the net. The buzzer goes off not a second later, and the entire team piles on top of the player who just won them the game.

Bette and Magdalene join in the shrieks of the other partners, jumping from their seats in excitement. Eventually they make their way down to the hallway outside the locker room and lean against the brick while they wait for Tyson.

“You don’t have to stay,” Bette insists, “I can wait by myself.”

Magdalene shakes her head. “No way. I want to make sure he’s okay too. What good is a friend with a black eye?”

The other girl laughs at her friend’s stubbornness but doesn’t shoo her away. Once Magdalene has made a decision it’s hard to get her to sway from it, and Bette knows better than to push. Besides, who is she to deny her friend a bit more social interaction? Magdalene has spent the past six years practically holed up in the library and deserves to stand in a crowded hallway.

The friends chat idly while they wait, with Magdalene sharing some of the most ridiculous questions she got asked in her defence interview that morning. She’s mid story when Tyson exits the dressing flanked by a man dressed sharply in all black.

“Hey guys,” Tyson greets, dipping his head to place a kiss to Bette’s cheek before doing an elaborately goofy handshake with Magdalene.

“Good game baby,” Bette compliments sweetly. She then turns her attention to the boy standing awkwardly on the fringes. “You too Graves.”

He smiles shyly, muttering out a small thanks. It’s then he seems to notice the final member of the group, and offers his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Magdalene.”

She puts two and two together on the walk to her car. The Ryan Magdalene just met is the same who will take her spot on the trip, fought someone in Tyson’s defence, and scored the game winning goal. Though they’ve only said a few words, she likes him. He seems genuine, and those people are the rarest to find.

☼☼☼☼

Magdalene is walking across a graduation stage for the final time in two days. However, she can’t find anyone to take the third ticket. The University of Denver has a stupid rule where all graduates must have three guests attend the ceremony. Bette and Tyson are obviously occupying two of Magdalene’s seats, but she’s having trouble filling the third.

“I can ask Tys if one of the guys is free,” Bette shrugs. The two girls are sitting in the window of Barn Owl drinking iced lattes and discussing what Magdalene should wear to the ceremony.

“It’s okay,” Magdalene says, “I don’t want to bother anyone. Maybe I’ll just ask June.”

Her friend’s eye roll so far back into her head Magdalene isn’t sure they won’t stay there. “You can’t ask your boss to watch you graduate Mags! Besides, Gravy owes Tyson a favour and was already looking for something to do. I’m sure he won’t mind wasting a few hours as long as he gets drinks out of it.”

There isn’t a better option, so even though she barely knows the guy, Magdalene agrees. “Make sure he gets this?" she sighs, handing her friend an envelope with a single ticket in it. "I have to go. Caligula should be done at the vet soon.”

“Say hello to little boots for me,” Bette giggles as she waves goodbye.

Hours later, tucked into her couch with a glass of wine in one hand and Caligula playing with the fingers on the other, Magdalene realizes she invited a complete stranger to her graduation and how that could be a terrible idea. Sure, Ryan sounds like a great guy from the way Bette and Tyson talk about him, but he’s only ever spoken three words to her. Since that game she’s gone out with the team a few times, but the man with the piercing stare is yet to make an appearance. Magdalene considers that perhaps he’s more like her than his profession gives him credit for, and she feels a twinge of guilt about being worried he’d cause a scene at the ceremony.

There isn’t any more time for her to fret over the third and final guest on the list. At the last minute Bette decides there’s nothing in Magdalene’s closet that’s suitable for her to wear, so a trip to a local second-hand store ensues. While it’s nice that her friend has taken their carbon footprints into consideration, Magdalene wishes it didn’t have to happen an hour and a half before the ceremony is supposed to start.

“We have to be there in twenty minutes Bette,” she frets, tapping her foot nervously against the tile flooring.

If they can’t find whatever it is Bette’s looking for, Magdalene will have to walk across the stage in denim cutoffs and a faded t-shirt with Neil Young’s face on it, which is something she’s hoping to avoid at all costs.

“Have no fear, Mags,” she says with a knowing glint in her eye, “For I have found it.” Bette holds up a hanger that is holding a beautiful long sleeve dress adorned with a whimsical floral print.

Magdalene can’t help the gasp that escapes from her. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes, “But let’s hope it fits.”

The dress does in fact fit, and the workers are kind enough to let her wear it out of the store. Bette drives at a speed that might not be the safest to travel at in downtown Denver, but she gets to the school with minutes to spare. She shoos her friends out of the car so she can go pick up Tyson and Ryan, and Magdalene checks in with little hassle. The pool of graduates is fairly small, so she chats with a few classmates while they wait for the call to put their gowns on. Time passes quicker than expected, and soon Magdalene is being directed to her seat. She zones out while the dean gives a congratulatory speech and they go through the first few names. At one point she looks backwards into the crowd to find Bette, Tyson, and Ryan all giving her a thumbs up. The nerves she didn’t even know she had settle.

A faculty member signals for Magdalene’s row to stand up, and she smoothes her dress before dutifully following the person in front of her. Giddiness bubbles in her stomach at the thought of being done school forever. A hand from the stage crew give a cue, and Magdalene appears on the stage as her accomplishment is broadcast through the microphone.

“Magdalene Stevenson is being awarded a Masters in Information Science in Archival Studies and Records Management.” It feels so good to finally be finished that she lets a tear slip as she shakes the hand of the staff member handing her the package with her diploma in it.

The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur, and before Magdalene knows it her friends are approaching to congratulate her. Bette and Tyson wrap her in a tight hug, murmuring praise in her ears. Ryan stands awkwardly to the side before Bette drags him into the celebration. The four of them stand in the courtyard where the ceremony was for much longer than needed. Bette is crying enough to refill Sloan Lake if there is ever a drought and is yet to let go of Magdalene’s figure.

It’s only when the event staff ask them to leave so they can tear down the stage does Magdalene turn to leave campus for the last time as a student. She’ll be back in a few weeks as an employee, but deep down she knows this is the last time she’ll ever feel such a deep connection to the place.

“Victory is mine, victory is mine! Great day in the morning people, victory is mine!” Magdalene yells, quoting Josh Lyman as she skips down the path towards Bette’s car.

Both Bette and Tyson are confused at the sudden outburst, not knowing what she’s talking about, but Ryan responds without missing a beat. “Should I bring you all the muffins and bagels in the land?” His response doesn’t clear anything up, but it elicits a giant smile from Magdalene, who laughs and nods in confirmation.

Sitting in the back of Bette’s Audi, on the way to a graduation party she’s supposed to know nothing about, Magdalene decides that she wants to get to know Ryan Graves better. From what she’s garnered from Bette and Tyson he’s a class act, standing up for friends and giving good advice. He likes The West Wing and showed up to a stranger’s graduation, so how bad can he be?

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: see what magdalene's graduation dress looks like here // the quote from the west wing is from 1.02 if you were curious!

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

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unholyobsessions · 4 years

Text

K9 Approval

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Description: Spencer starts crushing on the cute dog handler

Requested: Yes

A/N: Not really falling in love, more of a meet cute but I am considering writing a short blurb as pt2 who knows

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, typical criminal minds stuff

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist

It’s a pretty standard case. Spencer wishes he didn’t have to classify a number of women getting kidnapped and murdered as ‘standard’ but there is nothing particularly strange about it. The good thing (well not exactly good, more like convenient) is that it’s a local case and he is able to go home to his apartment every night.

When he arrives to the BAU on their third day on the case he knows as soon as he looks at Hotch that this case just became anything but standard.

“He sent a note,” his boss speaks and all color drains from his face. A note can either be extremely helpful, or extremely dangerous. He rushes to follow Hotch into the round table room where the rest of the team is crowded over a lined sheet of paper.

I’ve always enjoyed a nice walk in the park. Especially those with lots of trees. Makes it easy to hide from the monsters crawling in the dark. It’s also easy for the monsters to hide their secrets. Can you find my secret? I’ll give you a hint. She’s no longer breathing.

Spencer’s brain immediately tries to find any codes that could be hidden within the words but comes up with nothing. He picks up the plastic bag the paper is in and starts to read the note again.

“Reid what can you tell us?” Hotch asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“There is a lot of abbreviation. I’ve instead of I have. Lots instead of a lot. It’s casual, almost nonchalant. The pen is pressed lightly against the paper, which shows that he was calm as he wrote it. He’s confident, not worried about getting caught.” Spencer explains his findings without looking up. “Garcia are there any parks within the geographical comfort zone?”

Garcia immediately starts typing away on her computer, not needing to look at the keyboard to click the correct keys. In a matter of seconds she’s speaking the location of two parks, both conveniently placed in the center of the comfort zone.

“We need to get two teams of search dogs in each park. Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss go to the one on fifth avenue. Rossi and JJ you’re with me at the park on eighth. We need to find her.”

. . .

Arriving about twenty minutes later, the park was already crowded with search dogs and their handlers. Spencer crinkled his nose, never particularly excited to work with the dogs. He was vaguely listening to whatever Morgan was saying next to him as he let his eyes scan over the park.

There were certainly a lot of trees and it seemed like the place children would enjoy playing hide and seek in. It wasn’t huge but it was certainly bigger than the average park and the lack of street lamps surrounding the area would have certainly made it easy for the unsub to sneak around at night.

As he kept looking over the area, his eyes caught sight of you and the breath was knocked from his lungs.

You have always loved animals, dogs in particular, and you have known since you were young that you wanted to be able to work with them when you were older. However, eight-year-old you never expected to look for dead bodies for a living, well you look for living people too. And technically you don’t do this for a living, you’re a veterinarian who happens to spend her time volunteering in search and rescue missions.

The decision to start volunteering as a search dog handler came after a girl in your college went missing. Everything was okay and she was thankfully found unharmed but it was two days of your campus being crowded with search dogs. You talked to one of the officers about the job and after a few short minutes of conversation you were instantly hooked. Five years later and you cannot bring yourself to regret your choice.

You remember when you got Ash, a gorgeous German Shepard, after your first training session. He was only three months old and the perfect age to start his training. It required you to spend all of your free time playing hide and seek in your small, one bedroom apartment, which is not as fun as it sounds after a few weeks.

In the end it was all worth it since you are able to help people and it got you a new best friend.

You walk around the park with a tight hold on Ash’s leash. You got the call about fifteen minutes prior and you are thankful that it is your day off from the vet. You keep your eyes on your dog, making sure to look out for any change in his behavior that may indicate that he found something.

The small hesitation in his step was enough to make you stop walking. He started rounding one of the trees, sniffing the ground before looking up at you and giving a loud bark.

You call Hank, one of the members of the team that is carrying the shovel over. “I think we got something.”

Your voice not only attracted the search team, but also three FBI agents. A few seconds later there was a small crowd gathered around you as Ash used his paws to help Hank dig the hole. Once the body has been uncovered you lead Ash away from the crowd, your hand going into the fanny pack strapped around your waist.

“Good job,” you say as you kneel next to him. You hold out the treat and he excitedly licks it off your hand. You can’t stop the smile that comes on your face even though it’s not the most appropriate reaction considering the situation. You feel a pair of eyes on you and you look up to see one of the FBI agents staring at you. He looks embarrassed at getting caught and you wave him over. He does so cautiously, keeping his eyes on Ash.

“Hi,” he says once he gets within speaking distance. You stand up and dust your hands on the fabric of your jeans.

“Hey, you’re from the BAU right?” You already know that he’s from the BAU, your team leader having had told you so as soon as you arrived. But he’s cute and you need a way to start a conversation.

“Yes. I’m Dr. Reid. Uh I mean Spencer…you don’t have to call me doctor.” He looks away bashfully and you smile, finding the blush creeping up his neck endearing.

“Well Spencer, I’m y/n.” You introduce yourself. You notice that he hasn’t taken his eyes off of Ash, who is looking up at you as if waiting for you to introduce him. “Everything okay?”

“What? Oh yeah it’s just that dogs don’t particularly enjoy my presence. They actually kinda resent it.” He says it so casually and you are sure that this isn’t the first time he’s had to say it. He looks just about ready to run away if the need arises and he does look a tad surprised to see that Ash isn’t attacking him already.

“Nonsense. Ash is a sweetheart and loves meeting new people. Come on,” you gesture for him to come closer with your hand. What you say is true, however Ash does look a little more vigilant than he usually does, as if he senses a threat in the FBI agent but won’t act upon it without your command. You don’t comment on it though, assuming this will only make Spencer more hesitant. Spencer approaches slowly, afraid that the dog will start barking at him. Once he’s standing next to you, you hear him audibly gulp. “Hold out your hand.” He does as you say, placing his hand out in front of him and toward Ash.

Ash looks at you for confirmation and at the small nod of your head he leans forward, sniffing the stranger’s hand. Spencer looks completely terrified of the situation and after a few seconds, Ash leans back. Spencer is about to retreat his hand but you stop him, knowing that everything is riding on Ash’s next move. Ash lifts his left paw off the ground and places it on top of Spencer’s hand, barking once and you let out a relived sigh. If he had refused to shake Spencer’s hand and barked twice, it would have been a done deal, because even though you are attracted to him, if Ash disproves then it can’t happen.

You smile and nudge Spencer slightly. “See, you just got the Ash stamp of approval.” The laugh that leaves his lips makes your heart flutter and you scold yourself. You just met him, get it together.

You see the grimace on his face once Ash removes his paw and leaves a good amount of dirt on his hand. You reach into the fanny pack and take out a small pack of wipes and a small bottle of hand sanitizer, always prepared. He looks grateful at the items, immediately taking a wipe and running it against his palm. Once he’s done he turns back to look at you. Ash has settled down at your feet, happily wagging his tail and sniffing Spencer’s shoes.

“Does this stamp of approval allow me to ask for your number?” He asks it so casually and it is such a contrast from the shy man a few second before that it takes you completely by surprise. It takes a second for your brain to properly process the question and now you are the one stuttering. Once it catches up, you turn to him with a grin.

“Definitely.” You grab your phone from your pocket and hand it to him and he does the same, both of you typing your contact information. You stare at each other with matching grins but are inevitably broken out of your daze by a voice calling out for Spencer.

“Reid, Hotch wants us back at the BAU. You can flirt with the pretty dog handler later.” The dark skinned agent yells across the park.

Spencer blushes furiously and turns back to you, barely stuttering out, “I have to go.”

You nod your head in understanding. “I’ll talk to you later Spencer.”

“Definitely.” You are pleasantly surprised when he leans down and pets Ash a couple times. “Bye Ash.”

You keep looking at him as he walks away, too distracted to notice the new presence beside you.

“Got a date?” Hank asks.

You shove his shoulder, trying to feign annoyance but the large smile on your face betrays you. “Shut up.” Ash barks up at you, seemingly wanting to join in on the teasing and Hank laughs, lowering his hand to high five Ash. “I hate both of you,” you reply with a frown.

Your façade breaks when your phone chimes with a new notification. You grin at the screen, the text sending butterflies to your stomach.

Want to get coffee on Saturday?

Tilting your phone away from the prying eyes of your team leader and furry friend, you type out a reply.

It’s a date

#spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #mgg #mgg blurb #mgg x reader #mgg drabble #mgg imagine #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #Mathew Gray Gubler #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine

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jaehyunhour · 4 years

Text

for the first time... | lee jeno

summary: a collection of firsts with lee jeno.

warnings: slightly suggestive at one point, but it’s mostly just cavity-inducing sweetness.

2.6k words. (a/n: i’m considering writing these for other members, so if you want to see it please send me an ask!)

the first time jeno… kisses you.

it’s no secret to anyone that around you that jeno has a massive crush on you. you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, he loves the way your eyes scrunch up whenever he tells a bad joke, the way you stand on your tippy toes to reach your hand up and ruffle his hair, the way you fight with jaemin for his attention, and so much more. quite simply, jeno is obsessed with you and isn’t afraid to show you. when the dreamies invite you over to celebrate the end of their promotions and decide to play a half-drunken game of truth or dare, he holds you close and says the blush on his cheeks is due to the alcohol (but everyone knows it’s because of you).

“y/n, truth or dare?” chenle asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“hmm, truth,” you respond, leaning your head on jeno’s shoulder.

“do you have a crush on jeno hyung?”

“dare.”

“kiss jeno hyung.”

jeno quickly sits up and turns his head to look at you. you pull yourself up and off of him and stare him in the eyes. he’s blushing more and now you know it can’t be the alcohol. you give him a smile and get closer to him.

“only if jeno wants to,” you say.

jeno is at a loss for words, and opts for nodding his head furiously instead of speaking. so you lean in, press a kiss on his lips that he returns, and memorize the feeling of his lips on yours.

“no fair! i want to get kissed too!” jaemin objects. you can feel jeno smile into the kiss and you smile, too.

the first time jeno… takes you out on a date.

although you thought kissing jeno was enough to let him know that you also had a crush on him, it was not enough for him. he thought about that half-drunken kiss for two weeks before bringing it up to you again, trying to casually slip it into conversation when you were out picking up food for the rest of the dreamies.

“do you regret kissing me?” jeno asks.

you shake your head no. “absolutely not, you’re the best kisser i’ve ever met.”

“how many people have you kissed?”

“a couple,” you say, staring at the menu of the chicken place. “did jaemin tell you what they want?”

“not yet… would you ever want to go on a date with me, y/n?”

you shake your head yes. “i thought that was obvious.”

“wait— are you serious?”

“yep, as serious as can be. should we go on one now?”

jeno tears his eyes away from the menu to look at you with wide eyes. “what about food for the boys?”

“we can order it and have them deliver it, and then we can go somewhere else and sit down and eat. or get ice cream, or go to the han river… whatever you want.”

“i’ll do whatever as long as it’s with you,” jeno says, ruffling the hair atop your head.

“that’s cheesy.”

“you love it,” he says.

“you got me there.”

and then, jeno took you to do everything you suggested. he took you to one of his favorite sit-down restaurants to eat, treated you to ice cream, and took you to watch the sunset at the han river.

the first time jeno… says i love you.

you’re sitting next to a sleeping jeno, your laptop resting on your thighs and back pressed against the headboard of his bed. you have a paper due by noon, and you want to finish it and sleep in instead of having to wake up early to finish it, and jeno has fallen asleep waiting for you to finish your essay. the soft music you played and the sound of your fingers hitting the keys on your keyboard quickly lulled him to sleep. days after your first date, jeno asked you if you wanted to be his girlfriend and you said yes. and now, four months later, you’re enjoying yet another sleepover with jeno.

you were so close to finishing your essay, only a page and a half left and your works cited page and you were done. it was almost 4 in the morning, and a frustrated groan you let out forced jeno to stir in his sleep.

“baby?” jeno asks, eyes still closed and voice muffled by the pillow.

“ah, i’m sorry love, did i wake you?” you ask, moving one of your hands to play with his hair. he lets out a content sigh.

“it’s okay, you should sleep,” he responds.

“i’m almost done, don’t worry.”

jeno shifts his body closer to you, puts one of his arms over your stomach, and presses a kiss to your arm.

“go back to sleep, love,” you say softly, returning to your paper.

“i love you,” he mumbles.

you stop your typing and a smile breaks out on your face. as you bask in the warm feeling in your entire body at his sleepy confession, you hear quiet snores coming from jeno.

“i love you too, baby,” you say and return to finishing your paper.

the first time jeno… makes love to you.

your paper takes longer to finish than you thought it would, and when you turn it in at 7:30 in the morning you’re no longer tired and don’t know what to do. still reeling from the feeling of jeno confessing his love to you, you set your laptop down on your bedside table and straddle jeno’s hips. you and jeno have been intimate in other ways, just never crossing the line and having actual sex. not that you guys weren’t ready, you were ready for jeno whenever and he was ready for you whenever, but jeno wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you.

you ground your hips slightly into his, soaking in the feeling of the friction, and leaning down to press kisses all over his face and neck. jeno doesn’t react, and you think of how to wake him up, but when you press a kiss to his lips he returns it and you know he’s been awake the whole time.

“you’re up!” you say excitedly.

“baby, it’s so early, why are you up?” jeno’s hands come up to rest at your hips. you grind down again and he groans, hardening underneath you as you speak.

“i haven’t slept yet, i’m not tired.”

“aw, poor baby. did you finish your essay?”

you shake your head yes.

“how was it?”

“it was okay… do you remember what you said to me when you woke up in the middle of the night?”

he thinks for a second, but comes up empty. so you lean down, pressing a firm kiss to his lips.

“i love you,” you say.

“really?”

you shake your head and kiss him again.

“you said it first, though, when you woke up in the middle of the night.”

“what? really?” he asks.

“yup, you told me to finish my essay then told me you love me, and then knocked out again.”

“man, that sucks, i don’t even remember! but it’s true, i do love you.”

“and i love you,” you respond. jeno flips you over and presses you into the mattress firmly, grinding his hips up against yours.

“jeno, make love to me,” you say quietly.

“are you sure?”

you nod. “absolutely sure,”

and so jeno makes love to you, bringing you to cloud nine and back, and cleaning you up afterwards. he cuddles with you afterward, and you quickly fall asleep with your head on his chest. he presses a kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arms around you, and drifts back to sleep content with the morning’s events.

the first time jeno… argues with you.

“y/n, you’re not listening to me,” jeno says, frustrated. at times, you can be quite stubborn and get upset when things do not go your way, and this is one of those times. jeno has a comeback soon, and while normally you’re very understanding of his schedule and how busy he gets, this is one time where you aren’t so understanding. your one year anniversary is coming up, and to you, it feels like jeno isn’t putting in the effort to make time to celebrate with you.

“jeno, you’re not trying!” you respond, equally as frustrated.

he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “y/n i am tired, my body hurts, i’m in the middle of preparing for a comeback, i can’t just drop everything for you.”

“i know that, jeno, but this is our anniversary! you really can’t find a couple of hours to celebrate with me? our anniversary, jeno!” you say, slightly raising your voice.

he looks up at you and frowns. “i’m not going to have this conversation with you if you’re going to raise your voice at me. you know that.”

“sorry,” you say sheepishly. “i’m just upset, but that’s no reason to raise my voice at you.”

“why are you so upset, baby? i’ve gotten busy before but you’ve never reacted like this. what’s going on?”

you sigh. “i just… i’ve never been able to celebrate an anniversary with someone, and i just want to make sure that we’ll be able to spend it together… i know we can celebrate every year but, it’s our first year, so it’s special to me.”

jeno takes a few steps forward and pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you and playing with your hair. “ah, my sweet baby, you should have just said something. you don’t need to pick a fight with me to get me to hear you out, baby. just tell me how you’re feeling from the beginning so we can work it out, okay? i love you.”

you pull back to look up at him and pucker your lips. he leans down to give you a quick kiss.

“i love you, too.”

the first time jeno… buys you a present.

jeno bought you plenty of gifts before you were together, but he wanted to make sure the first gift he bought you as an official couple was a nice one. for weeks, he secretly asked you about things you liked and things you wanted, so he could put something together for your 100 days. but around the 90-day mark, jeno began to panic because he was a perfectionist and didn’t want to disappoint you. you kept flexing that your gift to him was incredible (and it was) and he was scared that he wouldn’t be able to match what you got for him. he had gotten you a pair of pajamas you wanted, some new skin care products you saw your favorite beauty youtuber review, but the gift he was most excited to get you was the couple bond touch bracelets. you didn’t spend a lot of time apart from each other, but when you did you missed each other greatly. it was the perfect gift. when he touched his bracelet, it would light up on yours. when you touch yours, it would light up on his.

and you, too, thought it was the perfect gift. on your 100 days, when you opened everything and saw the bracelets, you began to tear up. for a split second jeno was afraid that he had fucked up, but when you tackled him into a huge hug and began peppering kisses all over his face he knew that you were just happy.

“jeno, this is incredible, thank you so much,” you say, voice muffled by his neck.

“anything for you, my love.”

the first time jeno… goes away.

you were prepared well for the first time jeno had to leave to tour. it sounds silly, but he slowly had to ween you off of him so you would be okay once he left. it was difficult, but you were able to go all the way with him to the airport to send him off. once arrived at the airport, you pressed a long kiss on his lips in the van and sent him off.

“you’re going to do amazing, baby. i love you so much.” you say.

“i love you so much, i’ll let you know when we get to japan, okay?”

you nod quickly, leaning in for another kiss, and jeno gets out of the van.

at first, it’s difficult going back to an empty room when you are so used to sleeping with jeno every night he can sneak out of the dorms, but when you walk into your bedroom and see a stuffed animal wearing one of jeno’s shirts you smile. there’s a stack next to the stuffed animal with a few more of jeno’s shirts, and one of his hoodies, and in that moment, jeno texts you.

from: jeno ♡

“baby, did you get home and see what i left for you? hopefully that’ll hold you over until i come home. i love you, sweetheart.”

to: jeno ♡

“you are seriously the best boyfriend ever, i love you so much. call me when you land.”

and the first time jeno… introduces you to his family.

the first time jeno introduces you to his family is well before you two officially get together. you’d been friends for a few months, and when one of his aunts announces she’s getting married he immediately knows to bring you as his guest. it’s a beautiful ceremony, taking place on jeju island, and you’re surrounded by the entirety of jeno's extended family. he holds your hand to guide you through everyone, taking the time to introduce you to everyone one-by-one and dodging questions about the status of your relationship.

he didn’t know if he had feelings for you or not yet, but the way you interacted with his family had a blush creeping up on his cheeks and his whole body feel warm. he snuck a few shots of soju when no one was looking, hoping that the alcohol would give him some courage to possibly make a move on you. jeno watches as you talk to one of his uncles, taking his baby cousin out of his uncle’s arms and holding him in your own. you bounce him in your arms and make faces at him, sway to the sound of the music as you hold him close to you arms. his heart swells at the sight and he makes his way to you.

“can i steal you away for a second?” he asks, but he notices the baby has fallen asleep in your arms.

“i’m afraid i can’t let him go, he’s knocked out,” you respond.

“do you want to dance?” he asks, leading you to the dance floor.

you dance with him as best as you can while still holding the baby, jeno’s arms wrapped around your waist while one of your hands is placed on his shoulder, the other arm occupied with the baby.

as the song comes to an end, the happy couple announce that they’re going to toss the bouquet. you transfer the baby to jeno’s arms, and he only stirs quietly as you rush over to the group of women and try to get a good spot. they count down, three.. two.. one.. the bouquet goes flying and you catch it right in your hands. everyone cheers and you run back to jeno excitedly, pulling him into a hug as best as you can with the baby still in his arms.

“good job, bub,” he says to you, and you take the baby back from him. you hold both the baby and the bouquet in your arms, and in that moment jeno knows he doesn’t want anyone else but you.

#lee jeno #nct jeno #nct dream #nct smut #nct #jeno au #nct fluff #nct angst #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #kpop smut #kpop drabbles #kpop scenarios #nct imagines #nctzens

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lonelyreputation · 4 years

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C’est Toi (coffee shop au) • CHAPTER EIGHT, wc: 4.9k

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Tuesday - January 29, 2019 - 07:11

There’s a feeling in the pit of my stomach that won’t go away––it hasn’t gone away since I left my sketchbook at the coffee shop. I have this feeling of anticipation looming about in my stomach. But I don’t even know what I’m anticipating. Am I preparing myself for disappointment in case he doesn’t text me? Am I preparing myself for a text?

I hate waiting. And I hate not knowing what’s to come.

___

I haven't been to Brightside in five days. I kept to my promise that I would see Shawn later.

After I rushed back to my flat after the disastrous end of our conversation, I hurriedly knocked on Ella’s door and didn’t stop until she let me in. I told her I left my sketchbook, she hugged me tight, and told me that I couldn’t go back until he texted me. But then I told her that he called me a customer.

Her smile faltered, but she was back to her enthusiastic self and promised me that he would text.

But five days later, as I laid on my bed, staring up at the ceiling fan, I had yet to receive any text.

I heard a knock on my door and yelled out a non-excited come in, and Ella’s head popped around the door with a sympathetic smile.

“Still nothing?”

With a sigh, I closed my eyes, feeling even more embarrassed than the day I asked for his name, “Nothing.”

I heard a small squeak of the door being opened, and then a soft click of the door when it was shut. I didn’t need to have my eyes open to know that Ella walked further into my room. I heard the wheels of my rolling chair slid across the floor and then felt Ella’s hand on my arm.

“Give it a little more time, I’m sure he’s just––”

I snapped my eyes open and turned my head to look at her, “It’s been five days. If he hasn’t texted me now, he won’t ever text me.”

Ella offered me a sympathetic smile, “At least you can say you tried.”

But that’s the thing, I thought to myself, I didn’t try enough. How was he even supposed to know that I left my sketchbook there for him to find so that he could text me? It was ludicrous for me to even think that this plan would be somewhat successful.

“Maybe someone else picked it up?” Her voice was high as she offered a weak excuse for my silent phone.

I let out another deep sigh, “That would be even worse,” I sat up in bed and rubbed the heel of my palm over my right eye, “That would mean all of my drawings are lost and my brother gave me that sketchbook––”

“I’m sure it’s still at Brightside,” Ella tried to sound confident, but we both knew it was a lost cause, “Give it a few more days, if he doesn’t text you, then you can just live your life…You are in London after all.” She winked.

I tried to laugh, but it came out sounding like a whimper.

“Let’s get your mind off it,” She used her feet to push the chair away from the side of my bed and stood up, “A few of us are going to the park to play football.”

I quirked an eyebrow, “You play football?”

Ella nodded slowly, her face looked just as confused as mine, “When I was younger. I’m not fantastic but I can still try and have fun.”

“I––I’ll come watch,” I swung my feet over the bed as I started walking toward my closet to change out of my jeans, “The rules have always confused me, but I’ve heard enough of my dad and brother yelling at the T.V. that I have some knowledge of it.” I pulled out an old t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts, “I didn’t think football was big here in England.”

Ella furrowed her eyebrows together, “Are you daft? Football is life or death here and––Oh,” She let out a small laugh before smirking, “Excuse me let me translate for you,” she cleared her throat and spoke with an American accent, “A few of us are going to the park to play soccer.”

Oh.

My arms went limp at my sides as I felt my face heat up in embarrassment, “That’s––Of course, soccer––Football––Makes sense, I used to play a bit––”

“Mick,” Ella cut off my rambling with a laugh and a shake of her head, “I’m gonna get changed, knock on my door when you’re done.”

I nodded as I watched her leave my room with an amused smile on her face. I smacked my hand on my forehead, still reeling in my embarrassment, because of course football is soccer. I wasn’t home anymore.

Quickly, I swapped the sweater I wore to class earlier for a long sleeved red t-shirt and jumped around as I wiggled out of my skinny jeans. Once my athletic shorts were up, and had my sneakers double knotted, I grabbed a little canvas bag to place my phone and keys in. Once I locked my door, I turned left and knocked on the door to the left of my room.

“I’ll be out in just a minute!” Ella shouted from the other side. True to her word, Ella walked out of the door in under a minute, dressed in a sweatshirt and leggings. She looked at me up and down before laughing, “Sure you won’t freeze?”

I nodded as I flipped my head forward, gathering my hair up to wrap an elastic band around it, “If we’re running around, I’ll be fine. Plus, my legs get too hot if I’m running and I have leggings on.”

Ella rolled her eyes, “You’re weird.” And then we were off to the elevator.

As we rode down, Ella informed me that football was being played at Hyde Park. We made light chatter as we made our way to the tube station, and by we, I mean Ella did most of the talking. I appreciated her effort in trying to get my mind off my lost sketchbook, but it was still the only thing I concentrated on as we went from Waterloo station, to Green Park, and then got off at our final destination of Hyde Park Corner.

Once we quickly made our way out of the tube station, we waited with a crowd of other people for the lights to change. And when the walk sign flashed for us, everyone hurriedly made their way across the street, because once the lights changed…London drivers were not shy in accelerating on the gas pedal.

We entered by the Queen Mother’s Gate and started walking along the pathway.

“This park is too big,” Ella grumbled as she typed furiously away on her phone, “Jack said that they found an open space but the whole stupid park is an open space.”

I kept up with her fast pace and turned my head to look at her, “Jack’s here?”

Ella nodded her head, “Said a few friends from his law course wanted to unwind after an impossible paper they had to write,” She looked at me with a smirk, “He specifically asked me to make sure you came along.”

I brought the sleeves of my shirt to cover my hands as I crossed my arms over my chest, “They probably needed another player.”

“Sure,” she bumped her shoulder against mine, “How is it that you’ve been in London for a month and have two boys after you? Meanwhile, I’ve been here for three years and haven’t had any luck.”

“You had the TA.”

“Don’t push it, America,” Ela glared at me.

I let out a sigh, facing forward, as my voice softened in agony, “And I don’t have two boys after me,” I sniffled from the cold air, “Shawn only sees me as a customer.”

Ella’s glare softened as he weakly smiled, “You’re more to him than that.”

I shook my head, “If you were there––”

“I have been there,” Ella interrupted me, “I’ve seen how he sneaks glances at you, how he spends more time talking to you than anyone else…Mick, he likes you too.”

I brushed off her comment, the familiar feeling of disappointment seeping into my heart, “Where’d they say they were?”

Ella glared at me, knowing exactly that I was purposefully changing the topic as she held up a finger, signaling me to wait. She unlocked her phone, gliding her finger on the screen a few times, before she brought the phone up to her ear, snapping at whoever was on the other end, “Where are you?”

She hummed a few times, before stopping in her tracks, “Well why didn’t you say you were closer to Marble Arch,” Ella huffed as she made a sharp right and started quickly walking across the grass, “We got off at Hyde Park Corner, you twat.” She sneered into her phone, “We’ll be there soon, start without us, it doesn’t matter.”

Not waiting to hear the other person on the end, Ella clicked her phone shut and let out an aggravated breath, “Jack is an idiot.”

“We’ll be there soon,” I tried to reassure her, but I was quieted from the glare she sent my way, “I’ll race you there.”

“We don’t even know where there is!” Ella yelled at me after I had already taken off in a sprint, “Mick!”

I held the canvas bag close to my side, while it was practically empty, I could still feel my keys and phone bounce against my hip. I slowed down a bit and turned my head over my shoulder, “Think of it as a warm up!”

I was a bit further away from Ella, but I could practically see her rolling her eyes at me as she started to pick up her pace in a slow jog. While she was right that we didn’t know exactly where they were, we would get there faster by running instead of briskly walking.

Ella caught up to me, and when we finally laid eyes upon a group of boys and girls kicking around a soccer ball, we both glanced at each other before taking off in a sprint. I said that we ended in a tie, but Ella never liked to lose, so she declared herself the champion.

As if he knew we made it, Jack looked over at us with a wide smile, he excused himself from his friends and jogged over to us.

“Glad you two could make––Ow.” Jack narrowed his eyes at Ella as he rubbed the spot on his arm where she punched him, “I would like to go one day without you hitting or kicking me.”

Ella mirrored his glare, “Why didn’t you tell us to take the tube to Marble Arch!”

“Slipped my mind.”

“Idiot,” Ella mumbled under her breath as she walked past him and to the group of people kicking around the ball. It looked like she recognized a few people as she struck up a conversation with them.

“Mick,” Jack’s smile faltered a little as he looked down at my legs, “Will you be cold?”

I shook my head and tightened my pony tail, “I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t look convinced as we walked side-by-side back to the group, “I have sweatpants in my bag if you get cold.”

I smiled up at him, trying to ease the concern in his eyes, “Thanks.”

When we got to the circle, Jack introduced me and then we were split up into teams. As one of the team captains, Jack picked me first to be on his team. He subsequently left Ella off his team which caused her to sneer a ‘watch your back,’ at him as everyone got into their positions on the little makeshift field.

After an hour had passed of kicking the ball around, Ella trying to slide tackle Jack, and a few goals scored by each team, everyone decided to call it quits. Everyone talked and laughed as we made our way back over to our bags and Jack, always being prepared, offered water to both Ella and I.

“Are you girls headed back to Stamford?” Jack said as he screwed the lid back on his water bottle.

Ella finished swallowing before nodding, “Yeah we’re–––”

“I think I’m going to call my brother,” I interrupted her. They both looked at me with tilted heads. “It’s a nice day out,” I looked up at the sky, and while it was still overcast and cold out, the sun was trying to break through, “Figured I’d take a walk in the park and talk to him.”

“In shorts?” Jack asked. I nodded my head and was about to respond with how I wasn’t feeling that cold from the soccer game, but before I could say anything, he zipped open his backpack and threw a sweatshirt at me, “You’ll freeze if you don’t have another layer on.”

I smiled in appreciation, looking at the well worn King’s College sweatshirt with the University seal on it, “I’ll wash it before giving it back to you.” Jack waved me off as I slipped the oversized sweatshirt on my body, automatically feeling ten degrees warmer.

“Put the hood up to,” Jack laughed, “Your ears are looking red.”

Rolling my eyes, I pulled the hood up and overdramatically tightened the strings around my neck, which caused me to only see out of a teeny tiny hole, “Better?”

“See you later, Mick.” Both Jack and Ella laughed as they walked toward the exit of the park.

Once I was sure they were a good distance away, I pulled out my phone, opened WhatsApp and checked my messages.

Still no text.

With a sigh, I started walking back toward the Hyde Park Corner tube station, as I clicked my brother’s contact. Because while I did plan on talking to my brother, I also planned on making a little stop at a coffee shop before I headed back to the residence hall.

“Pip pip cheerio,” I rolled my eyes at the greeting I always got from William.

“People don’t talk like that here.”

William let out a boisterous laugh, “Oh, I know.” It was silent for a few minutes as I walked through the park, passing a few dogs who weren’t on leashes, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I said with a flat tone, “Just wanted to call.”

“How’re things going with that barista?”

I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath, “Not great.”

“Golden girl having a bit of trouble?”

I glared at a tree in front of me, pretending that it was my brother, “What would you do if you liked a girl?”

William let out a sigh, and I heard him say distant hi on the other end of the phone, presumably walking past a few people he knew before continuing on, “Everything you’ve already told me pretty much points to him liking you.”

I was approaching the end of the park and walked out to stop right at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change, as I switched my phone to the other hand, “So why hasn’t he done anything?”

“You could always ask him out,” William said as if it was the easiest thing, “I know you said things didn’t go over too smoothly when you asked for his name, but maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move.”

The light changed as I walked with the crowd to cross the street, “Then he’ll be waiting for forever.”

“Mick,” he dragged out the lone vowel in my name, “You had a boyfriend last year, it’s not like you’re inept to talking to boys.”

I stopped at the entrance of the tube station and leaned against the railing, “I know but he’s––Everything is just––I don’t know how to act around him.”

William laughed loudly, “Oh, you got it bad.”

“Shut up,” I let out a single laugh as I scuffed my sneakers on the sidewalk, “I have to go, but I’ll call you soon.”

“I want more updates on this Canadian barista that just so happens to live in London!” William said in a singsong voice that made me laugh, “I still find that weird.”

“I love you, William,” I said with an eye roll.

“Love you too, Golden girl.”

And with that, I ended the call. I quickly pulled up my tube map direction app and typed in Hyde Park Corner and Temple. Twenty-one minutes, I sighed, better than nothing. Making sure I knew what platform I needed to get on, I walked down the stairs, tapped my oyster card and started my journey to Brightside.

I’ve been on the tube for longer than twenty-one minutes, but the anxiety I felt about still not having my sketchbook, and not knowing who I was going to run into at the counter…It felt like the longest ride ever.

When the train car approached Temple, I almost considered staying on until the next stop and not getting off. I almost didn’t want to go back to Brightside and face even more embarrassment. I think I’ve had enough embarrassment there to last five lifetimes.

But I wanted my sketchbook back.

I cared about my sketchbook more than I cared about Shawn thinking of me as a customer.

Walking down the sidewalk, I almost didn’t feel the cold air on my legs because I was too consumed with my anxiety as the familiar door came into view. Breathe, I said to myself, in through your nose and out through your mouth…

I didn’t think twice before I curled my hand around the handle and yanked the door open.

Shawn was the only person behind the counter, and while I didn’t hear the chime of the bell, I knew he did because his head snapped up. His eyebrows were furrowed together for a few minutes before a full blown smile took over his features. I slipped the hood off my head and walked straight up to the counter.

“McLane!” Shawn said with just as much chipper in his voice as the last time I heard him call my name, “It’s been a while. Was starting to think you found another coffee shop.” He laughed as his hand went to pull a yellow cup from the stack.

I let out a weak laugh, “I––No. No other coffee shop,” Shawn smiled as I continued talking, “And actually…I’m not here for a coffee.”

His eyebrows raised in interest as I started my rambling, “I––I think I lost my sketchbook? I take it with me everywhere and I’ve retraced my steps but I can’t seem to find it anywhere––And I––This is the only place I haven’t checked. It’s black, on the small side, it has some drawings in it–––”

“Slow down,” Shawn laughed a little as he brought both hands in front of him, gesturing for me to slow my words, “What’d you say you lost?”

“My sketchbook,” I said matter of factly, “It’s small––pocket sized almost––and black. It has my name in it––”

I was too preoccupied with naming all the details of my sketchbook that I missed the shimmer of recollection in his eyes. I also missed how his smile slowly grew wider with every word I rambled. And even as I continued on rambling, he ducked below the counter, momentarily out of my sight, before he popped right back up with a black book.

My heart stopped.

“Is this it?”

He had my sketchbook.

“I––Yeah––Oh my god,” I released a breath of relief, “That’s it––I can’t––Oh my god.”

But he didn’t text me.

Shawn handed the sketchbook over to me and I snatched it from his hand, cradling it close to my chest, before I quickly opened it to make sure no damage was done to any of the sketches. I let out another sigh of relief when I saw everything intact.

“The drawings in there are good,” Shawn’s eyes were wide in astonishment, “You have insane talent.”

I picked my head up and squeaked out a pathetic, “What?”

My heart stopped again because he looked through my sketches. He opened up my sketchbook, and either he didn’t see the if lost note or he saw it and completely ignored it. But that thought only crossed my mind for a few seconds because the only thought ringing in my head as that he looked at my drawings.

If there’s one rule to live by, it’s to never look at someone’s sketchbook without their permission.

And sure, the whole point of Operation Sketchbook was for Shawn to look in my sketchbook, but he was only supposed to look at the if lost note. He wasn’t supposed to actually look at the drawings. Because––oh my god––I had a sketch of the bird tattoo on his hand in there.

“Niall and I got curious––It was around for a bit and so we just peeked in. And when we saw how amazing they were…” Shawn’s voice grew distant before looking back at me with amazement in his eyes, “McLane, your drawings are so good.”

Oh my god…Niall saw my sketch of Shawn’s hand.

“I well––They’re nothing special––” lie, “––I just––It’s fun and it’s relaxing––”

As if Shawn sensed my nervousness, he smiled and politely cut off my rambling, “If I had half the talent as you,” he rested his elbows down on the counter, and looked up at me with a small smile, “I would not be working in a coffee shop.”

I looked down for a moment and blushed. But when I looked back up into Shawn’s eyes, they were twinkling with pride as he was able to get a reaction out of me, “What would you do if you weren’t working here?”

Shawn let out a hum as he scrunched his eyebrows together, looking off into the distance, as he seriously considered his options.

“I think music production is cool,” he hesitantly answered, “I like all the audio engineering stuff, it’s probably what I would’ve studied in uni.”

I nodded my head, not having much of a clue about what he was talking about, but I noticed his eyes shined a little brighter when he brought up the topic.

“Have you thought about learning some stuff on the side?”

Shawn nodded his head, “I have some music software on my laptop and play around with it a bit, but it’s nothing serious,” Shawn shook his head and stood up tall, “I like working here anyway.”

I nodded my head and looked around the shop, it was a bit empty for it being a Tuesday.

“This might be the first time I’ve seen you without books,” Shawn’s voice brought me back to him after staring off into space.

I blinked a few times before tilting my head back slightly in laughter, “I just came from playing soccer with some friends.”

“Football,” Shawn corrected me just like Ella had, “And in shorts?”

His tone sounded just as concerned as Jack’s did when he first noticed my bare legs. Although, Shawn’s eyes seemed to linger on my legs longer than Jack’s did, before he looked up at me and chuckled, “It’s like five degrees outside.”

“It’s cold out, but I wouldn’t say it’s that cold out,” I rested my elbows on the counter as I continued to talk, “It felt more like the low forty’s.”

“Celsius,” Shawn corrected me with a laugh, “Five degrees celsius.”

Oh.

Shawn laughed again as I leaned on the counter in silence, even more embarrassed than before. He tried to act sly, but I noticed his hand reach out for a yellow cup.

“I don’t need a coffee,” I told him.

He shook his head, ignoring my words, “What tea do you like?”

“You really don’t––”

“You look like someone who likes English Breakfast,” Shawn ignored my words again as he walked down toward the espresso machine and opened up a box of tea. He took out a bag, plopped it in the cup, and pressed a button on the espresso machine that let out hot water.

Shawn peaked over into the cup, and once he was satisfied with how much water was in there, he pressed the button again and the water stopped. He set the cup down on the counter, as he shook his hand mumbling a hot hot, as he walked back over toward the register to grab another yellow cup, along with a coffee sleeve.

He placed the empty cup under the cup of boiling water, “It just needs to brew for five minutes,” I heard him say as I looked at the steam floating out from the cup, “And then you’ll have something to keep you warm.” He gave me a pointed look.

“Thank you,” I smiled in appreciation as I pulled out some money, “How much is the tea?”

Shawn let out a single laugh as he crossed his arms over his chest, “You’re not paying.”

I rolled my eyes and waved the money in front of his face, “Oh, come on––”

“It’s tea.” Shawn shook his head, “It barely cost anything.”

We stood in silence for a few seconds longer, neither of us wanting to back down. But I knew that even if I put the money in the cash register myself, Shawn would take it out and slip it in my bag. With a sigh, I stuffed the five note back in my wallet and dropped it in my bag.

“Thank you.”

Shawn nodded his head, “So…What kind of art do you like?”

My smile brightened at the mention of art and I saw Shawn’s eyes widen in admiration, “All of it. It’s so fun and always so creative––But I do find myself leaning more toward post-impressionism.”

Shawn slowly nodded his head, he looked about just as lost as I probably looked when he was talking about audio engineering.

“Van Gogh,” I gave him one of the most famous artists to come out of that art movement, “That kind of stuff––Landscapes, lots of color, bold brush strokes.”

“Ah,” he said in understanding, “Starry Night? That’s one of his right?”

I chuckled, “That’s him.”

And then an idea struck my mind.

I had seen advertisements in newspapers and down in the underground about a Van Gogh exhibit opening at the Tate Britain at the end of March. It was a while away, but if I brought it up to him…Maybe he’d want to go.

I felt like Ella with the amount of scheming going on in my mind.

I coughed into the crook of my elbow, “Yeah––Starry Night is cool––The Tate Britain is actually having an exhibit with his art,” I let out a fake sigh, “I’ve been trying to find someone to go with me but I––No one seems interested.”

Shawn’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth straight away, only for it to shut tight, as his head snapped toward the chime of the bell on top of the door. Three girls around our age walked forward, talking among themselves about what they were thinking about ordering.

I shouldn’t have found his facial expression funny, considering I really did think this time around he was going to ask to tag along, but the frustration on his face caused my chest to slightly shake with amusement. He closed his eyes tight, jaw locked, as he rubbed his fingers around his temples.

He let out the most aggravated sigh I’d ever heard, and I think he wanted me to hear how annoyed he was at the customers who just walked in through the door.

“I’ll be with you ladies in one second,” Shawn briefly turned his head to look at them, acknowledging their presence.

I offered him a close lipped smile, and he just shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Before you go,” he quickly said, taking the tea bag out of the cup, disposing it in the bin, before he disappeared under the counter. But he wasn’t gone for long. He popped right back up with oat milk, shaking the container, before opening it up to splash a little milk in it.

He securely placed a black lid on it and pushed it toward me, “I’m glad you didn’t find another coffee shop.”

His words were simple, and to any outsider, him being worried about me finding a different coffee shop to go to would sound pathetic. But I knew what he meant. I knew he wasn’t just referring to a coffee shop.

The tea was still very hot, even with two cups and a coffee sleeve, but I still picked it up and smiled at him, “See you tomorrow, Shawn?”

Shawn’s smile was wider than I’d ever seen it before and he nodded his head, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When I opened the door, I was met with a gust of cold air that had me ducking my head to shield myself from it stinging my cheeks. But the tea in my hand from Shawn was doing a much better job at providing me warmth than Jack’s sweatshirt.

I walked quickly back toward the Temple Underground station because I was also just starting to realize that maybe my legs weren’t cold because I couldn’t really feel my legs.

I hopped on the tube, switched stations at Embankment, and braced the cold air again as I walked out of Waterloo Station. I was almost back to my flat.

As I waited at the stoplight for the colors to change, I felt my phone vibrate in my bag. I switched the tea to my other hand so I could dig the hand closer to the bag around for it. I pulled it out, and saw that it was a text on WhatsApp from an unrecognizable number.

I scrunched my eyebrows together, and unlocked my phone, curious as to who messaged me.

But when my thumb clicked on the app and I went into the message, I felt my heart skyrocket up to my throat as I let out an audible gasp. Luckily, my grasp around the tea didn’t falter, but I still felt as if I could drop it at any moment.

Hi, McLane! It’s Shawn from Brightside ☕️ I got your number from your sketchbook…I hope that’s alright with you.

And then the light turned green.

A/N: So……How are we feeling about Jack? Operation sketchbook? It was ~semi-successful!! But successful, nonetheless! Things start to pick up from here soooo……Get ready for some fun!

Thank you! Thank you for all of your kind words!! They mean the absolute WORLD to me!🥺 I love you all so very much! As always, sending good vibes 💥

See ya next week with Chapter NINE!!! We’re almost getting to my favorite chapter 🤩

C’est Toi Tag List: @mendesficsxbombay, @5-seconds-of-mendes, @pupsandducks, @musicalkeys, @madatmendes, @im-salt-but-not-salty, @shawnmendez, @crossedties @lenamds

#Shawn Mendes writing #Shawn Menes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes fluff #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes Writings #Shawn Mendes coffee shop au #Shawn Mendes AU #Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes x oc #wonder #Shawn Mendes imagines #Shawn mendes fics #Shawn mendes blurb #Shawn mendes blurbs #Shawn mendes story #ugh don't you just HATE tags #anyhoot #I hope you all enjoyed!!!

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hms-chill · 4 years

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Kicking Underwater

Summary: "He's not going to be the youngest elected congressman in history without earning it, but nobody needs to know how hard he's kicking underwater. His sex-symbol stock would plummet" -- Casey McQuiston, page 3

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Henry knows that Alex's midterm season will be hard. He knows Alex overworks himself, so he talks to June, and he makes sure he knows exactly how to look after Alex when he's at his busiest. He's ready to come home early when he can, bringing Alex's favorite takeout for days when making dinner together would take too much time. He's ready to drag Alex to bed by two AM, ready to keep him from drinking too much coffee and hiding in the office with the blinds closed all day.

What he isn't ready for is a version of Alex at midterms who seems normal, if a bit more tired. Yes, Alex is working more, but it seems reasonable. They still have their biweekly cooking lessons, and Alex joins him for David's walks sometimes. He comes to bed at reasonable hours, and he promises he's hydrating and eating while Henry's gone. So, even if Alex starts to look more tired or worried, things seem to be alright. He still works hard, he has late nights of studying or dog walks where he spends the whole time thinking aloud about an essay, but it's far from the self-destruction Henry was afraid of.

Maybe, just maybe, he's been able to help Alex relax. If Alex looks more tired, maybe it's just showing on his face more than normal. He's tossing and turning a bit more at night, but he always seems to relax when Henry holds him. If he looks more stressed, well, they can't exactly expect a stress-free midterm season. But things don't seem much worse than normal, and June seems happy, so Henry convinces himself not to be worried. He still worries, of course, but he tries to convince himself not to.

There's one week in particular that he's dreading. It's a week when Alex has two tests and an essay, and the class he's a TA for has a test, so he has forty-some essay questions to grade amidst his own studying.

But Sunday ends, and the chaos week starts, and things seem alright.

Alex's class take their test on Monday, and Alex brings home a stack of papers, but he agrees to take a break and walk David while Henry proofreads his essay, and they both agree that it's a good enough essay to call it for the night. Henry thinks it's good enough to turn in, but Alex wants to tweak it, and it's not worth the argument as long as Alex is coming to bed without Henry having to plead.

He looks tired on Tuesday, but he swears he's alright, and Henry trusts him. It must just be the stress of the week. He makes sure to tell Alex he loves him a few extra times, and even convinces Alex to accept a shoulder rub while he grades essays and makes study guides. And really, all things considered, it seems good.

Henry's not sure what wakes him up somewhere that feels like Tuesday night but is technically Wednesday morning, but when he cuddles closer to Alex to try to go back to sleep, there's a light. He opens his eyes a bit to see Alex awake, one hand around Henry, the other furiously typing into his phone. In the light of the phone screen he looks exhausted, the bags under his eyes exaggerated and every stress line deepened by the long shadows. Henry hums, reaching a heavy hand up to push Alex's phone down. Alex looks over in surprise, phone still in place.

"Hen? What are you doing up?"

"You?" Henry asks in place of an answer. Alex sighs.

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd get some more work done."

Except that, when Alex wants to sleep but can't, he gets up. He'll get a glass of water, or he'll wander down to the kitchen in search of helados, or he'll go to a window for some fresh air. Once, Henry even found him looking up yoga poses in the hallway outside their room. An Alex who wants to sleep but can't is a restless creature, a far cry from the boy gently stroking Henry's hair with a google doc open on his phone. Henry just shakes his head. "No. Stop work. Sleep."

"I can't sleep. I've just got to clean this essay up a bit, and then I can stop worrying about it."

"Please sleep?" Henry asks, finally awake enough for complete sentences. "It'll be there in the morning."

"So will everything else. I just have to get it done; go back to sleep."

"I thought it was done." It's due tomorrow, but Alex had said he'd turned the essay in earlier that day. Henry wonders vaguely if he can re-submit it, or if he'd never actually turned it in.

"It's... fine. It's good enough, maybe, but it's not great. I'm just... making it better so I can turn it in again and have it be great."

"It doesn't need to be great. It's okay. You're working so hard, and you're doing your best, and that's all anyone can ask. You don't need to keep working all the time, you need to sleep. You're enough as you are," Henry says.

Alex finally lets him push the phone down as he rolls over to bury his face in Henry's chest. Henry's a bit surprised, but he pulls Alex in close, rubbing his back as Alex's hands grab onto the pajama shirt Henry wears mostly so that Alex can hold onto him if he needs to, just like this. Henry just holds him until Alex looks up and says, "you're the only one who's ever said that. That I'm good enough, I mean. Other people say... they say I'm smart, or good at things, but then I have to keep being smart and good at things so I don't disappoint them. I always, always have to keep... keep being those things without trying, because if they seem me trying, or if I'm not smart or good at things, then they... it feels like they won't like me. But you... you're the only one who ever says I don't have to be anything more than I am."

"You don't, love. You're enough. Everything you do, everything you are... you're more than enough, and I adore you just how you are. I love how hard you try, but it's... you don't need to. Not for me, at least. For me, just being you is enough."

Alex lets out a snort of a laugh, humorless, his hands still tangled in Henry's shirt. "I... I don't think anyone's really gotten to see me trying before. Maybe June knows, but that's because she's smart and knows everything, not because I let her see. I... really, no one was supposed to know how hard I work. It... I'm supposed to just be naturally good at everything; I'm not supposed to have to try."

"Well, that's not very realistic."

"I know, but it... it's how it's supposed to be."

"Says who?"

"Everyone. I can't be, you know, millennial heartthrob Alex Claremont-Diaz if I have to wear reading glasses, or if I'm skipping parties to write essays, or if I drop out of school because I fail con law and I can never look Professor Westbrook in the eye again." Henry presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, trying to smooth the wrinkles there, as he processes that. He can't promise that the world will love a bespectacled Alex as much as he does, or that anyone in their right mind would understand if a law school student has to focus on a test. So instead, he focuses on the last point, knowing for a fact that Alex's con law grade is miles from forcing him to drop out.

"What do you have in con law right now, Alex?"

"A 98%, I think. But we have a test this week, and that midterm paper isn't in yet."

"I think, with a 98% and a very good paper, you're rather far from failing."

"I still could."

"I'd love you anyway. So would your family, and Nora and Bea and Pez."

"Maybe. You'd all be disappointed, though."

"We wouldn't. Or, well, I wouldn't, at least. Not if you'd done your best."

"If... if I tried and still failed, you wouldn't be disappointed in me?"

"Not at all. I love you, and I don't think I could ever truly be disappointed in you for trying." Alex looks genuinely surprised by that, and Henry's heart breaks a bit as he realizes that Alex wasn't sure of this.

"I'm proud of everything you do," Henry says softly, pressing a kiss to Alex's forehead. "I'm proud of your work ethic, and your drive to make things better. I'm proud of you when you ask for help, and when you give yourself a break, and when you put your life on hold to help people you care about, and when you're able to say no to people because you need to do something for yourself. I am always, always proud of you and the good things you do."

"Really?"

"Really. You don't need to be anything more than who you are and want to be. I'm proud of you, and I love you, and you're enough for me, no matter what."

Alex's phone buzzes from somewhere between them, but Alex ignores it to close his eyes, resting his forehead on Henry's collarbone.

"I'm proud of you. Not the things you've done, not the bits and pieces that you let everyone see. You, fully and completely. You're more than enough to make me happy forever," Henry says softly. Alex takes one deep breath, then another. Henry keeps him close, rubbing gentle circles into his back as Alex slowly accepts the compliment.

"I... I think I needed to hear that. I've been... if I tell you something, will you promise not to be mad or take that back?"

Henry nods, and into his chest, Alex says, "I've been working on study guides and essays from my phone while you sleep. Just for the past few days, but I... I wanted to be able to work, but I didn't want you to worry, so I... I waited for you to fall asleep, and then I'd stay here but work on things until I was too tired to think anymore. I'm sorry I lied. And... and that I pushed too hard. I didn't... it wasn't the plan, it just happened, I guess. I'm sorry. I'll stop."

"It's alright. I mean, it's not... I wish you hadn't, but I'm glad you told me, and I'd like to help you look after yourself. If you need to stay up later to work, you can tell me. If we need to skip a cooking lesson or a dog walk or anything, just say the word, and we'll skip it. I'm proud of how much you want to do well, and I'm proud of you for letting me know you're pushing yourself a bit too much. Could I help with the school stuff at all? Maybe I could quiz you, or grade a multiple choice section of some of the tests if the professor doesn't mind?"

"I... I think the quizzing would be good when I have a study guide. And for grading, I... I'll talk to the professor." Alex doesn't move, so Henry presses a kiss to the top of his head and says, "I love you. And I'm proud of you, I really, really am. You're more than I could have ever dreamed of, and more than enough for me."

Alex's phone buzzes again, and Henry fishes it out from between them by the charging cord, reaching over Alex to set it on the end table, switching it to do not disturb. When both his arms are back around his boyfriend, Alex cuddles in closer. He's snoring softly into Henry's chest within moments.

He's beautiful. Knowing what the days before this have been hurt Henry's heart, knowing that Alex has been so exhausted and that Henry hadn't been able to convince him to look after himself. But this Alex, the one who's finally resting, is beautiful. So Henry holds him close, and he kisses the top of Alex's head, and he swears to anyone who might listen that he's going to look after Alex. He's going to make sure Alex knows that he's proud of and supports him no matter how he does in his classes or internship or anything else. And, from now until the end of time, Henry swears that Alex will know exactly how overwhelmingly, unendingly loved he is.

On AO3

Notes:

Me? Writing something to process the terror of graduating from college when all your options are shut down by a pandemic? Never.

Want to support the Hannah-Makes-Art fund? You can tip me in ko-fi here!

#guess who took a break to write because I crave validation #anyway if I post anything else before i finish my essay yell at me #anyway the real tags #henry fox mountchristen windsor x alex claremont diaz #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #law school alex #rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb fic

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soliverse · 4 years

Text

SAY YOU LOVE ME - PART 2

rockstar!taeyongxjournalist!reader

genre: angst, suggestive, romance

warnings: alcohol, a bit of cursing

1 ⭒ 2 ⭒ 3 ⭒ 4 ⭒ 5 ⭒ finale pt 1

Length: 1.6k

ps: I didn’t proofread this so forgive the typos and grammars errors. Will edit this in the future.

A series of clicks can be heard from your cubicle. You only have a few more minutes before the deadline of the article that you’re currently working on and so you’re furiously typing like your life depended on it. Your head was buzzing and your vision was getting a bit hazy, but you pushed through and managed to hit the send button before the website closes. You didn’t even notice that you were holding your breathe until you relaxed your body and you were gasping for air.

Massaging your head, you take a few more deep breaths to calm your nerves down. You didn’t even notice that you were holding your breath just as you were typing. Once you’ve managed to rest and clear your mind for a bit, you stood up and fixed yourself up before saying goodbye to your coworkers.

While on the commute going home, you decided to check your messages. It’s mostly just business contacts or some friends asking how you’ve been doing. You missed your old pals and decided to contact them for a night out. A little gathering just to unwind. Unfortunately, most of them seems to be doing something for that evening. You just sighed and got off on the convenience store near your apartment and just decided to chill on your own. You grabbed the first row of chips that you can find, a few bottles of soju, and frozen pizza to stuff your face with while you’re watching some really sucky horror movies.

You were already daydreaming on the walk home of how you will spend the evening when you turned the doorknob and you noticed that it wasn’t locked. When you got in, you were met with a very occupied Taeyong, who was clearly very invested in whatever it is that he was playing.

“Oh, hey.”

He paused the game as soon as he acknowledged your presence. He was wearing his favorite gray hoodie and sweatpants ensemble that he usually wears when he’s at home. His long brown hair was messy because he never bothers with what he looks like at home. It was effortless, and yet he still looks ten times better than you and the “corporate zombie” style that you’re currently rocking.

“So… No show tonight, huh?”

You asked him as you made your way inside the house. He smiles boyishly and grabbed took the grocery bad from you.

“Yep. Bossman said that we need a few days rest before we leave for next week. It’s a pretty big scene so they’re taking preparations seriously.” He explained as he made his way to the kitchen. You followed suit.

Taeyong’s band is a regular attraction at the bar a few streets over. He usually leaves just shy a few minutes after you came home to tune some equipment or change into whatever they need to wear that night. The house would be clean, Felice is full and you enjoy the peace and quiet to yourself in your room. Then, he wraps things up around midnight and he comes home to you sleeping soundly. There are even times when they would be scheduled for some place out of town and you’ll be home by yourself for at least a few days. Your schedules made it hard for the both of you to meet. You’re glad that things are going well for him and his band. However, times like this made you miss hanging out with him just like the old times.

He gently placed the heavy paper bags over the counter and took the contents out. Just beside the kitchen cabinets, you saw an unenthusiastic feline resting beside her food bowl.

“Hello baby~ How was your day?” You squealed in this excited, high-pitched voice that you always use when babying your little one. You scooped her in your arms and snuggled with her fluffy body.

“I’m fine… Thanks for asking.”

He mumbles from the other side of the room, a bit jealous of the affection that you are giving to the cat instead of him, an actual human being.

You sat Felice down on the counter and sat at one of the stools.

“Nice. Haven’t had one of these for ages.”

He said as he was taking out the soju bottles from earlier.

“Guess that means you’re joining me then?” You rested your chin on one of your hands while the other is tapping your fingernails to the counter.

“You betcha.”

////

You’re no lightweight when it comes to drinking, but a few months without practice made it easier for the alcohol to get to you. You’re still sober, but it made it hard for you to focus and understand the film that you’re currently watching. You even forgot about the title, just remembered that it’s about some type of man-eating monster and stuff.

“Hey Y/N, are you even watching?”

Taeyong asked from below the couch, currently munching on some chips.

“I am! In fact, I know who’s been baiting all these men.”

He chuckled at the sound of your words slurring from intoxication.

“Well, of course you would! Her name is literally in the title.”

He takes another shot of the alcohol before speaking once again.

“The movie sucks by the way. Should’ve let me pick a movie.”

This time, it was your turn to chortle.

“Eww no. You would’ve chosen some cliché romcom movie starring Julia Roberts. We’ve watched all of those already!”

“Nope. We haven’t watched Pretty Woman yet. You’ve been missing out on a masterpiece.”

“Fine. But can you at least share my chips with me?”

You tossed over the remote to him. In other occasions, you would’ve been stubborn and stuck with the movie that you’re currently watching. However, your boredom and drunkenness aided your complacency. In turn, he tossed over a few bags of chips in your direction. One of them landed on your face, which earned him a glare. However, he just grinned and turned to the tv to switch the movies.

He had always had this fascination for Julia Roberts. He told you at one of your drinking sessions that his mother absolutely adored her to the point that his sister was almost named Julia. However, they opted to a more Korean name instead. It was one of those moments when you wondered if he and the performer Lee Taeyong was the same person. His fans would be surprised to know about the softy that he is.

“Alright!”

He exclaims excitedly as he finished setting up the movie. This time, he sat besides you so he can stretch his legs from sitting on the floor too much. You didn’t mind and scooted over to the other side to give him more space.

As it turns out, Pretty Woman isn’t the ugly duckling fairytale story that you expected it to be. It’s PG13 nature rendered you speechless all throughout the movie. Even Taeyong was quiet the whole time.

“So that’s why you like this movie…”

You said teasingly, trying to lighten the mood up. However, he just looked at your way and pressed his finger on his lips. He shushed slowly before going back to watch the film. Your eyes widened at the sight. The way he did it just looked so, hot.

You muttered some curses on your head and talked yourself to snap out of it. You just grabbed one of the remaining pizza slices and stuffed your mouth nervously while trying to divert your attention back on the film.

Well… that didn’t help at all.

The girl, Vivian, woke up by herself and started looking for the main guy. She saw him at one of the halls, playing the piano.

Taeyong gulped, knowing how this scene will go.

Meanwhile, your eyes stayed glued at the screen and watched as the scene unfolds. Unconsciously, you started imagining that the main guy was Taeyong… and… Oh god.

You were about to grab the last remaining bottle of soju to cool yourself but your hands touched Taeyong’s, as he was also thinking of the same thing.

Your eyes met. He had this look that you’re familiar with. It’s how he looked at you that night at the club. Suddenly, you see yourself being pulled by some unknown force towards him. So was his. The next thing you know, your lips met halfway. You can feel his breaths hitching which probably turned you on even more. He slithered his hands on your waist and pulled you in your closer to him, your hands now wrapped his neck. You can feel yourself heat up as he lays you down, his body now hovering over you. You find yourself getting drawn in deeper and you closed your eyes just so you can feel it more.

And then memories of him started flooded in.

Yuta.

This jolted you back into reality. You blacked out for a bit, not realizing that you pushed Taeyong off of you. His eyes were first met with confusion, and then he realizes what just happened.

“Shit. I’m sorry Y/N!”

You didn’t even speak a word to him probably because of a mix between shock and embarrassment. You just ran off to your room and slammed the door, leaving Taeyong alone in the couch, cursing himself out.

#nct au #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct u x reader #nct taeyong #nct fic #lee taeyong #taeyong imagines #taeyong scenarios #rockstar au #journalist au #yuta nakamoto #nctcreations

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ooohyou · 3 years

Text

Submitted to r/nosleep by u/NemesisLuce

Please support the original author.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. Cute little bookstore in a quaint little town. I love helping customers find the right book for their mood. I love showing cute children’s books to curious kids. I love talking with sales reps and figuring out exactly which new releases to order from them.

I also fucking hate my job.

It was ten minutes past closing time, and I had my brightest, fakest smile on while trying to get the last customer out of my store. No sir, I cannot look up a book on the computer if all you know is the cover was red when you saw a poster for it 5 years ago. No sir, “I think it was about the cold war and a detective who drank too much but maybe it was something else” does not help me at all. Look sir, all my historical thrillers are on this shelf. Does anything ring a bell? No? Was it made into a movie? You don’t know? Oooookaaaay then, I’m sorry to inform you that we are already past closing time, here’s the store number, if you remember the title give us a call and we’ll order it for you if it’s still available. Thank you, good evening to you too sir, goodbye. Yes you have your umbrella, it’s right here in your hand sir. Okay bye bye.

I sighed and gave my cashier the biggest eyeroll I could manage before locking the door and turning over the sign that previously said ‘come in, we’re open!’. I heard the coins clanking in the coin counting machine (do these have a name? I don’t know. Coin counting machine is pretty self-explanatory and I’ve never bothered to check if they were actually called that), signifying that Alice had started to sort her cash drawer. I would only need to take out the profits of the day, make sure she had enough cash for tomorrow, and send her home. I went through the motions mechanically, only thinking about the nap I was about to have in the breakroom. It was going to be glorious. I really needed it if I wanted to be alert for the night shift.

Oh, yeah. We’ve got a night shift here. It’s my store’s most… peculiar aspect. We close at 6pm, but we open again at 11, up until 5am. Then we open again at 10am. So when I said ‘nap’ earlier, I actually meant the first half of my night, since I am working both shifts. Yes, I live in my store. Please buy books instead of reading stuff on the Internet, I would really love to be able to afford another employee.

So there I was, counting money fully on autopilot, daydreaming about drinking a nice cup of herbal tea and hugging my pillow, when Alice said something that ruined my plans.

“I forgot to tell you, something weird happened when you were on break.”

I snapped out of my daydream instantly and shot her a questioning glare.

“Yeah, this old lady came in, looking for something about fairy tales. I showed her the section but she didn’t want to have a look there apparently, and she asked me about something from the back. And I was like ‘do you think we’re hiding books from our customers or something’ so I just told her everything we had was on display in the store but we could order any book we didn’t have if she wanted. And she just shook her head and mumbled something and then she handed me this pamphlet and I was like ‘okay feel free to look around’ and didn’t even look at the pamphlet before shoving it in my pocket because a kid entered the store holding an open juice box and that was a disaster waiting to happen so yeah but that was weird right?”

She had actually run out of breath by the end of her sentence, and I wasn’t surprised. I was pissed though.

“Alice for FUCKS sake. Give me the pamphlet, don’t look at it. I’ll write that you were fired because of the store’s financial situation and give you a glowing recommendation.”

All color drained from the young girl’s face. I wasn’t mad at her, but I was still mad. She was supposed to know the rules. Hell, I even had her train the temps we hired to help around Christmas time. In retrospect, it was a miracle nothing bad had happened.

Okay, I was slightly mad at her. But I really didn’t want to be.

I saw in her eyes that it had finally clicked. She understood the gravity of what she had done, and handed me a crumpled pamphlet from her pocket, making sure to avert her gaze. God damn it. She had one momentary lapse, and it cost me a good cashier. Fucking hell.

“I’m sorry…” she started.

“It’s okay Alice, you didn’t mean to. You were alone on the floor, she was an old bat, it could’ve happened to anyone. You’ll be missed around here, but please don’t visit.”

She nodded. She finally remembered the rules, and she understood that there was no other way.

I put the cash drawer in the safe while she gathered the stuff she had left in the break room. I opened the back door to light a cigarette. She had tears in her eyes as she exited the store. I gave her a smile and clasped her hands in mine.

“You were a good employee, Alice. You’ll do great in a regular bookstore. Don’t doubt yourself and avoid this street for a few weeks. Call me if you run into any trouble, okay?”

“Thank you for the opportunity, boss. I really loved working here.”

“I know you did. Now hurry home. Don’t answer to anyone knocking on your door. Be safe.”

She nodded and scurried away, her backpack bouncing with her steps. I crammed my half-finished cigarette into the already-full-but-I-keep-forgetting-to-empty-it ashtray and went back inside.

The pamphlet was sitting on top of the safe, and as I grabbed it I felt the urge to read it. Nope. In the bin you go. I was accustomed to those old tricks. First rule of working with my clientele is to know when you can’t trust your instincts because something’s fucking with them. Second rule is to trust your instincts. Confusing? Welcome to my life.

So I ended up sitting at my desk typing furiously on my computer instead of napping. I still had a few hours until night shift, but I absolutely had to start interviewing prospective employees in the next couple days – in the meantime I just had to hope one of my part-time employees would like to work a few extra hours. I just have too much work to spend all my time manning the register and keeping the tables neat. While the store isn’t that big, it still is a lot for one person.

I obviously had to update the employee rulebook as well. Just emphasize that you can’t take chances with crazy old people. You never know if they’re truly crazy or something else.

“Never accept anything a customer hands you directly if it’s not (real) money. If they’re promoting something, make them leave any cards, pamphlets, posters at the register. If you end up accepting whatever they gave you, don’t look at it, and come to me immediately.”

Yes, it’s weird. I know it’s weird. Look, I pay my employees a fair enough wage that they make sure to follow the rules. I don’t care if they think I’m crazy. I probably am. It doesn’t matter.

I pressed enter and added:

“If a customer asks if they can see what we have in the back, politely decline and offer them to order whatever book they need. If they persist, come get me.”

God damn it, Alice actually handled this part well. But she grabbed the pamphlet, and I had to protect her.

I don’t write the rules to make my employees better workers. I write them to make sure they survive. The main reason any infraction is cause for termination is that, well, it could be the cause for the actual termination of their existence on Earth. Getting fired from a job is a way better alternative.

Alice accepted the old lady’s pamphlet. It could’ve been anything else. A tissue, a cigarette, a glass of water. She unknowingly made a bargain with whatever the woman was. ‘I gave you something, now I’m free to take something’. Entities like the old lady abide by archaic rules. In a store, this is what applies. I lost a regular day customer that way. The poor lady was watching over her kid, who was merrily making a mess looking through the 3-5 years old section, when a young girl came up to her. “Look miss, look I made a drawing”, she said. My customer grabbed the piece of paper and the girl ran off. A couple days later, posters popped up everywhere in town for a missing toddler.

I was obviously pissed. I’d been waiting to see that little girl again and tell her that business rules applied only between merchant and customers and she had no right to force an innocent, unaware person into a contract. My night clientele is well aware of that, and treasure having a place to find literature enough to not risk jeopardizing the fragile balance between both worlds. Nonhumans can be facetious little shits though, and I’ve never seen that girl again. Some entities enjoy chaos just for the sake of it. This one just danced around the rules, grabbed what she wanted, and ruined two lives. My customer sank into a deep depression and ended up gouging her eyes out during a manic episode. Her toddler was never found, but I don’t think he will grow up to be a respectable, human adult.

I checked the time and decided I could get 2 hours of sleep before having to get the store ready for night shift. So obviously I went to check out who – or what – was knocking on the glass window near the entrance because who needs sleep anyway.

It was an old lady, her wrinkled bloated nose pressed against the glass, her skeletal fingers tapping against it in a rhythmical fashion that was getting on my nerves. She had piercing, blood-injected eyes that were fixed on me and a grin so large it couldn’t possibly be natural.

I didn’t have time to be scared, but I still felt the fear creeping up on my stomach, slowly making its way through my body. No matter how hard I tried to reject it, I couldn’t. Stupid human nature. I adorned my best customer service smile and walked up to the old lady.

“My apologies, you seem to be a bit early. We will be open for business at eleven.”

I didn’t need to yell. I knew she could hear me clearly in spite of the glass separating us.

One… two… three taps on the window. Her already impossibly wide grin grew even wider, revealing rotten teeth sticking out of black, putrid gums. Thick, yellowish saliva was dripping down in strands from her non-existent lips. By the time the corners of her mouth reached her temples, I was sure I would lose my fake confidence and run in the opposite direction. No matter how many times you deal with unnatural entities, being mere centimeters away from a nightmarish mouth full of rot and decay will shake you to your core. I tried to breathe calmly, being secretly thankful for the glass that separated me from what was probably the foulest smell I’d ever submitted my nose to, hoping the old lady would see me standing my ground and respect the rules of business. I could deal with her inside my bookstore, where she would be a customer. I just needed to stay brave and meet her transfixed, unwavering gaze. Her eyes were more blood vessels than pupils, and I found myself focusing on those instead of whatever was moving in her mouth. I did not want to see her tongue, not after seeing the state of her teeth. And I sure as hell did not want to see whatever I clearly caught moving around her mouth if it wasn’t her tongue. No, her eyes were scary but I could deal with them, no matter how unsettling it was to see them bulge in and out of her head in a slow motion, almost as if they were breathing. The glass became foggier and foggier on her side due to her heavy, animalistic panting, but I kept my gaze straight, only catching glimpses of fog and movement in my peripheral visions. If I were to treat her like an animal, I needed to assert myself as the alpha. I don’t yield to rude, entitled customers, and I wouldn’t yield to rude, entitled nonhumans breaching the unspoken contract that allowed them to enjoy my store.

After what felt like forever, she stopped tapping on the window. Her grin reverted back to a normal, almost friendly smile. She blinked, soggy wrinkled eyelids covering those eyes I had stared at for far too long.

“I guess I’ll see you when you’re open, then”. In spite of the glass panel separating us, I felt her putrid breath against my ear as she whispered her parting words.

Just like that, she turned and left.

Understandably, I was not looking forward to seeing her during the night shift. My regular customers were unsettling enough, I did not want to add the batshit-insane-nightmarish-grandma to the list.

I’m a business owner. The customer may not be always right, but they are always my priority. I will have to open tonight, because while some may not consider books to be a necessity, I guarantee you that it is vital not only for my business, but for some of my night customers that I open every night. I complain about my life a lot, but some of them face issues they can’t simply look up on the internet nor ask a friend or even a therapist. They may urgently need something from the night inventory, and I will do my best to provide it for them. I’ve always loved being a bookseller, but helping nonhumans find whatever fits their very specific needs has given me a sense of purpose I’m not ready to give up just yet.

I will open tonight. And I will protect my business and its rules, to ensure that I can open tomorrow night.

(Note: edited some words to fit in with the location LOL)

#r/nosleep #ghoststories #storytelling #bookstore #book store owner #ghosts #creepy #bedtime stories #SoundCloud

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kchuarts · 4 years

Text

Flowers in Blood

A/N: This is actually really fun to write!! I am definitely trying to go for a bit slower build with romantic feelings being realized in later chapters. Right now they are just like frenemies of sorts.

Summary: The mission begins.

Warnings: Attempt at assault

Taglist: @lucywrites02 *(Let me know if you’d like to be added!!)*

Chapter 2: Wolfsbane

BEEP, BEEP! BEEP, BEEP! BEEP, BEEP!

Jonathan’s hand slammed down on the alarm clock, turning the irritating machine off. He raised his head and groaned as it was 4:40 AM and it made him wonder why in the hell he set the alarm that early. Angela told he and Katie to be at her office at 6 AM sharp, but for god sake-

“Five more minutes…” He mumbled, ticking the alarm to ten minutes instead of five like he said so.

He was trying to sleep off his moderate hangover and dull headache from last night after he made the dumb decision of upsetting his partner for the investigation. It was not until 1 AM that Pine decided to call it quits on the partially helpful alcohol and head back. The way that Katie had rushed out after he let slip that he was her brother’s friend and watched him die made him feel horrible. So much for a first introduction of sorts and hoping to form at least a decent bond with the young woman. Pine pleaded to whatever God was listening that the mission they were assigned on would pass by quickly or become cold again. It was rather dark to think that, but he could not deal with the literal lingering guilt at his side. He would have to come up with a way to push those feelings aside and quick in order for their mission to go as smoothly as possible. Just as the thought settled and Jonathan’s eyes lulled shut, the incessant beeping returned with a vengeance and for some reason, it was louder than before. Once again, Pine’s large hand slammed down on the noisy clock and forced himself from the confines of his bed. A shiver ran down his body from the cool air of his room as he stretched his waking body from the stasis of sleep. His blue eyes glanced over to the window and naturally, it was raining. He sighed with slight irritation and rubbed the bridge of his nose as the headache made its presence more apparent. Hopefully a hot shower before he left would help ease the now growing throb of his head.

Unfortunately for Katie, she had not gotten a wink of sleep last night and spent her waking moments dissociating. Logically, she knew that it was not Pine's fault that Cameron had died but she couldn’t help but let herself morbidly blame him for it. Her opinion of Jonathan had quickly changed as did her attitude of working with him as he was a man. She guessed by her reaction, he would show his true colors like all men did once they upset a woman and be an absolute prick. The brunette shook her head and let out a deep sigh, smacking the heel of her palm against her forehead. “Stupid, stupid, stupid…” She muttered to herself, getting up and whining from the unpleasant tingle that shot to her feet. Maybe she could convince Angela to let her go on her own? If she told the truth and her discomfort of men? No. She had only met the woman yesterday but she seemed like the type of person to tell you to bite the bullet and stick to it. “Fuck me.” She groaned softly, walking toward the bathroom and shedding her clothes off to shower before she left. Why did she even accept this stupid job? Sure it meant being paid well and going to travel, but she would be risking her life along with another person. If she chickened out now, then all those years of study and training would go down the drain. Katie also assumed that Cameron would be super disappointed in her after she had worked so hard to get where she was now. “I just had to be partnered up with your old buddy, didn’t I?” She asked out loud while scrubbing the chill from her skin with warm water and soap. After spending around ten more minutes in the shower, Katie just about screamed from noticing what time it was. The clock read 5:30 AM and the ten minutes spent basking in the hot water was not ten minutes at all. “Shit!! Wonderful first impression off to a good start!!” she grabbed the clothes that were set out for this morning and quickly shoved them on the best she could as her body was not completely dried off. Katie wanted to hit her head against a brick wall as hard as she could at this point and hopefully knock herself unconscious. Thankfully, the only thing that seemed to be in her favor was that her suitcase was already packed and good to go. The brunette furiously brushed her teeth and jumped around while trying to pull a sock onto her foot. “MMMGH!!” She clenched her teeth together and almost fell to the floor as she hit her exposed knee on the doorwall. Foamy toothpaste dribbled from her mouth as she shut her eyes tightly and eventually did fall flat on her bottom and cried. She prayed no one heard her or that she woke anyone up, though it was unlikely she did not.

“Perfect, just fucking perfect!” She spit into the sink and rinsed her mouth, growling in frustration and shoving her toiletries into her suitcase. “Hi Angela! Sorry I’m like twenty minutes late on my first fucking day of the job!!” She began to monologue and search for her wallet and phone charger. “I didn’t get any sleep last night because of my fear of men and my existential dread over my dead brother-” she fished the last of her needed items out and grabbed the door handle, “because the asshole you paired me with is the guy who killed him-!” Katie’s jaw dropped as Pine had been standing right outside of her door, presumably waiting for her. Her hands flew over her mouth and her eyes quickly fell to the floor from shame. “To answer your question, I heard everything. Even the part about me being an arsehole and “murdering” your brother.” His tone was cool and face unreadable.

“You didn’t have to wait for me…” Katie’s voice became quiet.

“Well I did because I thought that maybe I should apologize about last night and perhaps talk things through. However, it seems apparent that your mind has been made up already.” Pine snapped, huffing and turning on his heel to walk out. Here he thought maybe talking to her would start them off fresh and possibly help to deal with the guilt he felt. Turns out that was not an option in the slightest and further wounded the ex soldier after hearing her rant.

Katie raised her hand to stop him from walking so fast, but he had already left her alone in her doorway. Sighing loudly, the brunette girl did a once over around her flat before locking the door and slamming it shut. She didn’t really give a shit if she woke anyone up now as this mission was already a complete failure.

Naturally, Pine was first to arrive at Angela's office and took the time on his walk to cool off and shove what happened to the back of his mind. All those thoughts were forced back up front when Katie stumbled in five minutes later, panting. Angela’s brows knit together at the girl, “You’re late.” She bluntly stated. The younger woman waved her hand and took another second to catch her breath, shooting a glare at Pine who subtly smirked at her being called out. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I swear to God I am NEVER late-”

“Except for now?” Jonathan spoke sarcastically and raised his brows, amused by how little it took to anger the American woman.

Katie glared at Pine, stomping her way over and pulling the chair aggressively seated next to the man away. Rob slowly lifted his head from some papers to witness what all was happening, keeping to himself. “Aren’t you two just chummy.” Angela muttered under her breath and rolled her eyes, “Great to see you took my advice of trying to get to know each other.” She frowned, folding her hands on her desk. “Excuse me!! I wasn’t aware that I would have the displeasure of being paired up with my dead brother’s killer-”

“Killer!? There you go again with blaming his death on me. I did not kill him, Katelyn O’Connor. If you knew half of what went down that day, maybe you would have a different outlook!” Pine swivelled his body around to face Katie.

The younger woman’s nostrils flared, “Really?! Then why was he sent home in fucking pieces!? Did you know we had to have a closed casket funeral that oh by the way, I never saw you, Jonathan Pine, attend?! It is your fault he is six feet underground when you could have saved him!!”

Jonathan stood up abruptly and loomed over the shorter woman who also rose from her seat, half tempted to spit in his handsome face. “You-”

“ENOUGH!! Fuck!” Angela slammed her palms down on her desk and growled. “I swear you two are worse than my fucking toddler! I don’t know what the hell went on last night, but it ends now if we are going to solve this case and bring whoever is running this circus down! I’m sorry to say that there is not anyone else I have to take your places and that you are stuck together. So unless you want to get killed out on the field over personal matters, I suggest you put it aside and at least be civil with each other!” The Director looked at both of them and threw her hands up, “Sit down!!”

Not wanting anymore issues, the agents obliged to Angela’s words but still cast nasty glances at each other. “Now if we are done being school children, I would like to debrief on what is going to happen. Can you handle that? Or do I need to bring out a get along t-shirt?” Angela waited for a reply, but got a silent nod from them instead. Whatever, as long as she got the information out and them on their way. “There has been a new break in the investigation and evidence has been found in Moscow. See here, there are poppies on the arms of victims from over in our neck of the woods and another similar marking on victims across the pond.” Her brown eyes glanced up at Katie before she continued, “However, with the recent uprising with this strange group making a comeback, a new flower is being used. Wolfsbane.” She tapped a picture that was recently printed. Pine quickly snatched it from Angela before Katie had a chance to look at it, causing both women to roll their eyes. “What’s with the flowers anyhow?” He shook his head and gave the picture back to Angela who then handed it to Katie. The Director shrugged, “Haven’t a clue. I suppose that’s just a signature they like usin’ after they finish with a crime.”

“Could have to do with poison.” Katie cleared her throat and handed the picture back. “Poppies and Wolfsbane are poisonous flowers, I’m just making a guess here but I think they’re using those kinds of flowers as a warning that these people are not to be messed with.” She folded her arms over her chest. “No, I thought that maybe they wanted to decorate the crime scene with pretty flowers.” Jonathan shot at his partner who in turn clenched her fists. “What the fuck did I just say?” Angela whined, dragging her hands down her face and growling from irritation. “Sorry, Angela. I think some of us just don’t have the decency to hold back any snark when they aren’t in the spotlight.” Katie smirked and slyly winked at Pine. The nerve of this woman! Pine could definitely see the side of his late friend in her that he absolutely detested. “Right then. Anyways, while I like your theory Katie, the reasoning behind these symbols are still unknown.

If the two have any correlation, report it back immediately. In the meantime, your target is Abaddon Hasapis.” Angela pulled a picture of a very elegant, yet sinister looking woman out. Her hair was curled and frame confident, knowing. Her eyes held a nefarious gleam and bow shaped lips cast a dirty smirk. “I want details on this woman as her name seems to be popping up in each new case that we receive on the Wolfsbane crimes. She is a socialite and often attends auctions, charities and parties for the wealthy. Naturally, none of the money in the charity events actually goes to the intended group. There is a gala in Moscow that she will be attending within the next three days.” Angela took a deep breath in, pursing her lips and looking at her agents sternly, “You two will be attending this gala and are a lovely couple who recently got engaged.”

Both of their jaws dropped slightly and each made a move to complain about their roles before Angela stopped them. “No, no! I will not be having any other interjections! Katie O’Connor no longer exists for the time being nor does Jonathan Pine. Instead, you are Steven Ranger and Natasha Romans. Your hotel is the Metropol and let me just say it was not an easy feat to get reservations. It is around a 10 minute drive from the gala and a bit of a hike should you find yourselves without transportation. I’ve had your measurements marked down and your appropriate attire sent to your room.” She clapped her hands together and raised her brows, sighing quickly. “Any questions before you go? And not about why you’re a couple.” She shot that complaint down faster than the agents could say uncle. The room went silent and Angela looked from Katie to Jonathan one last time before standing up and ushering them out. “Off you go then! As soon as you reach the train, shoot me a text, the hotel give me a call and then keep track of whatever information you gather. You won’t be returning to England for some time so I expect your best behavior. I cannot believe I am having to even say that. Please try not to bite each other’s heads off.” Her arms fell to her sides and she gave a frown. Pine nodded, flashing a small smile “There won’t be any biting since her bark is the worst she can do.”

“PINE!!” Katie smacked the tall man’s arm hard and growled.

“Ah, ah. Steven is my name, dear Natasha.”

Katie had not the faintest idea how in the hell she would survive this mission with this asshole or if she didn’t end up killing him by the end of it.

The way to the train station was relatively quiet for the most part except for the occasional grunt or cough. “Watch where you’re going! Fuckin’ wanker.” A pedestrian bumped hard into Katie and made her turn around, glaring before catching Pine smirk out of the corner of her eye. “You think me getting called a wanker is funny?” She clenched her jaw. Jonathan made a disgusted face, “Please refrain from saying that word ever again. It does not sound right when you say it with your, your whatever American accent. In fact, please refrain from speaking at all. Your voice is annoying.” He felt the girl sock him in the ribs with her elbow and trudge through. As she stomped forward to the conductor, Pine noticed a group of men eyeing Katie up and down while she was too busy being a piss ant. “She yours?” One of them asked, pulling a cigarette from his lips and blew smoke. The men must have seen her little stunt that she pulled earlier. “Ah, no. She’s not. I actually do not even know her, she’s just some rude American. Bloody foreign women, feisty they are.” He lied, giving a curt nod to the men before following Katie in short. They sat 3 rows apart as neither of them wanted to even so much as look at one another. At least now Pine could get some peace and quiet for a bit with the two day trip to Russia ahead of them. Technically, they didn’t have to put on the gag-inducing task of acting like a couple right away, but unbeknownst to them, it would have been wise to do so in the first place.

Pine shot Angela a text before putting his phone away to read up on the case and a book he had brought. He was an avid reader and quite enjoyed Shakespearean works and complicated theories. The book he had brought would serve great entertainment as it was packed with an abundance of Plato’s work. A few more passengers hurried onto the train before it departed, rudely shoving their way through the corridors. “Watch it!” One of them bumped into Pine rather harshly and caused his book to fall. The dark blonde man looked up while grabbing his book at the stranger and scoffed. He thought about retorting back, but decided it wasn’t worth the time to get into a fight when he already knew of the nonsense he’d be bickering over with Katie. Shaking his head, Pine dusted his book off and sighed. Around fifteen minutes had passed since the train departed and a very strong smell of nicotine permeated the air. Normally, Jonathan didn’t mind it as he was an occasional smoker himself. However, it was overwhelmingly pungent and particularly disgusting. Unfortunately for him, the source of the smell was sitting nearby and likely not to change carts soon.

“Hey there poppet.” A rough looking man took a seat in front of Katie, flashing his yellowed teeth. Two more men followed in suit, one of them sitting next to her and causing her to scrunch her nose from the strong odor of nicotine. Her heart began to race as she could practically feel the intention of these men radiate off them. “Please don’t call me that. I don’t mean to be standoffish, but I’d like to be left alone.” Katie’s voice cracked and she turned to look out the window, trying to calm down as past trauma was racing into her bloodstream. “That chap from earlier was right about you American women.” A dirty hand snatched Katie’s chin as the owner forced her to look at him. He licked his cracked lips and eyed her up and down with his soulless gaze, “Pretty one she is though. You may be a bitch, but that makes ‘em all the more fun to toy with.” He chuckled and released her face, grabbing her arm. Katie’s eyes widened and she shook her head. She was completely frozen as she felt grubby fingers crawl over her knee and up her thigh. Small, quiet noises of panic were the only thing that could escape her throat as fear came over the young woman. The touches stopped once a tear slid down her cheek and her body flinched hard as one of the men wiped the tear away. “Aww little poppet’s scared. What’sa matter? You still a maiden waiting for the right one?” The third man’s breath was enough to make Katie want to throw up. She shook her head no, unable to speak still and felt the fingers resume their unwanted caresses. Her breath began to pick up and her eyes flicked down as the button on her jeans was undone. “Please don’t-” She muttered, her body trembling as she felt fingers start to slide down her pants. “Please.” She cried softly, shutting her eyes before feeling the touches aggressively ripped off of her.

“Oi! What’s all this about!? You’re that bloke from earlier!! I thought you said she wasn’t yours!! Bloody liar, she ain’t about to be yours no more-”

The sound of Pine’s fist hitting one of Katie’s assailants had everyone in the cart turn their attention to the sudden fight. Jonathan grabbed the other two and tossed them out, bringing his elbow down on the back of one's neck and twisting the arm of the other until he heard a pop. A scream of pain erupted from the man and the train suddenly jolted to a complete stop. Pine grabbed the front of the man who initiated Katie’s attempted assault and growled, “She belongs to no one but herself. Unlike people of your ilk, I actually respect women and don’t fucking touch them without their consent! You would be wise to use the single brain cell in that thick head of yours to exit now considering our interaction has caused an issue. Get. Out. NOW!!” He threw the man to the ground and saw the trio scamper off the train as the doors opened. Police shortly put them in handcuffs before another came in to interrogate Pine. “I’d have you in bars too for what you did, but these three have been a problem for months now with harassing women. Keep yourself outta trouble, will ya?” The officer nodded to Pine before waving to everyone as a signal the situation had been handled. Once the officer departed and the doors shut, Jonathan held his hand out to Katie. “I doubt you want to continue to sit here and reminisce over those pigs. I know we aren’t on good terms but-” Jonathan stopped as Katie took his hand and got up, her bag over her shoulder and her eyes full of tears. The spy nodded and exhaled, leading the way to where he was sitting and helping Katie settle in. It was only until she finally calmed down that the girl released Pine’s hand.

“Why?” She sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Why’d you come to my rescue? You hate me.”

“I hate it when women are taken advantage of.” His blue eyes sparkled for a moment as he thought of his late Sophie Alekan. “I don’t… I don’t hate you, Katie. Just because you blame me for that,” He paused, choosing his next words carefully, “Doesn’t mean that I hate you. Actually, if you would have let me explain earlier I still feel that it was my fault. I have nightmares about that day and there isn’t a moment that goes by where I wish I would have been in his stead.” He looked at her, an honest expression resting on his face.

Katie’s brows turned upward and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “Pine-” She closed her eyes and then sighed, “Steven.” She corrected herself, “I’m sorry for what happened i-it’s just it was so sudden and you know how humans are; we have a horrible habit of putting the blame onto someone and-” She stopped as Jonathan waved his hand as a signal that he no longer wished to dwell on the topic. “We can talk about it some other time but right now, are you ok? They didn’t hurt you?” His tone became soft. Katie shook her head and she gave a small, wry smile. “Thankfully, no. I just couldn’t fight back.” She admitted weakly, not wanting to see the disappointment in Jonathan’s stunning baby blues. “Is that why you were so nervous around me yesterday evening? And your flinch when we shook hands?” his question caused her to force her gaze back up. Katie’s pink lips parted as she was flabbergasted at how easy she was to read and nodded slowly. She pulled her arms around herself and swallowed the urge to cry down, “I’ll admit when Angela told me I was working with you, I felt afraid. For two years, I lived in a nightmare and never thought I would escape. By the time I did, I changed.” She rubbed her lips together, unable to stop the tears. “His name is Travis Smithson and he is the man that made me frightened of men and unable to live normally for three years.” she sniffled, wiping her tears and rubbing her face in her sleeve.

Jonathan’s heart sank and he felt the urge to hug her, but did not do so. “I’m so very sorry to hear that, Natasha. You certainly didn’t deserve it…” He made a mental note of her ex's name, stashing it in the back of his head for future reference. “Are you still afraid of me?” He asked softly, leaning forward just a bit. Katie shook her head and gave a shaky exhale before giving him a tiny smile, “No. I’m just mad I’m stuck with an asshole.” She began to giggle and brighten up, causing Pine to smile as well. “Well if we’re going to be on those terms again, then you’re just as much of an arsehole as I am… No, not as much because you’re too short.” He laughed as Katie hit him with her sleeve that wasn’t covered in snot. “Leave my height out of this!!” She smiled at him and chuckled softly at his jeer. “Hey, thank you for rescuing me. Maybe you aren’t as much of an asshole as I thought you were, even if you did call me a bitch to those men.” She smirked and pulled her tablet out. “To be fair, you kind of were acting like one.” He received a playful kick for his comment and shoved her leg away from anymore kicks. “But, I would at least like to make up for earlier and it is the right thing to do. Your brother would have kicked my ass if I didn’t.” He saw a smile at the mention of Cameron. “Yeah he would have. No one messes with Cam’s little sister and gets away with it.”

The rest of the trip went smoothly with Katie and Jonathan coming to civil terms and an agreement to have a long in depth discussion regarding Cameron’s death. “Shit.” Jonathan smacked his forehead and groaned softly to himself. “What? What is it?” Katie became alarmed and sat up from her light snooze. “I don’t know a lick of Russian. Please tell me you know enough to get us by? I did read your file but didn’t see anything about languages except Japanese.” He opened one eye, looking at his younger companion. “Luckily for us, I do. Unfortunately, I can’t read jack shit of it and I only know a few basics. Other than that, we will have to play stupid.” She immediately ate her words as a smirk crept onto Pine’s face. “I thought you already were playing stupid- Hey!!” He laughed as she quickly changed seats to get him into a sort of choke hold and rub her fist on his curly head. Jonathan fought her off after a few more seconds before she returned to her seat. “It says you’re 24 but you certainly act like you’re a teenager.” He mused, raising a brow at her as the train came to its final stop. Katie stood up and smiled at him, shifting her bag “What’s the fun in life acting like a 38 year old who bullies young ladies?” She grinned, watching him pack his belongings before exiting the train with her. “You forgot- Short, young ladies.” his large hand grabbed Katie’s head gently and ruffled her hair before chuckling at her pout. “Watch it, you-” Her smile soon faded as police lights flashed brightly ahead with plenty of caution tape to spare. Jonathan looked behind himself and gently took Katie’s hand, walking fast and attempting to get a glance at the scene. Russian officers kept shouting at the ongoers, telling them to move along and that there was nothing to see. A tarp had been laid out over the apparent victim with their pale arm visible to Katie and Jonathan’s view.

A wolfsbane flower had been carved into the victims arm along with the same flower decorating the scene.

#the night manager #the night manager canon divergence #jonathan pine x ofc #flowers in blood #fanfic #my writing #writing #spies in love

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lognecro · 4 years

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I’m getting job training at Bonehaven learning center

I’m typing this on my phone because I don’t have a computer, but i’m hoping to get one in the next month. Anyways, my name is Logan, and I had no direction in life. I was born on March 22, 2003, so i’ll be 18 in about a month. I have a few interesting things about me that might be important for this blog. I am autistic, I suffer from several mental disorders that cause psychosis, anger issues, and in general destructive behavior. I dropped out of high school midway through junior year, and have been through the process of getting my ged while holding down a job at a grocery store.

I don’t know when but my parents found out about a program called Job Corps, and I filled out an application. I’ll be going to the Bonehaven center in Oregon, where I will be trained in SAPS(Security and protective services). This should be happening in the next few months, but since right now my life is doing pretty poorly social wise, I thought writing a journal might help. I don’t like being trapped in my own bubble though, so i’m doing a blog. Instead of screaming my thoughts onto paper, i’ll be doing it into the void that is the internet.

My hobbies include reading and writing, listening to music, and practicing bass(I’m not very good at it). I’m hoping in the future though to write my own music, or at least perform in a band. My main dream is to become a ghost and monster hunter though, traveling the United States checking out hotspots of folklore and supernatural activity. Sadly I have to focus on reality, and that’s why I am doing SAPS with Job Corps, I’m not an idiot but i’m not the smartest guy either, and despite me having a bit of a weight issue, when i’m working out regularly I have body builder muscles and i’m absolutely swol.

Right now me and my friends are going through a rough patch, I spend too much money and time on my friend Ivy, while I barely spend time with Jenny. It doesn’t help that they hate each other and refuse to be in the same room together. Ivy is super needy and texts me every day to hang out, which makes me irritable most of the time so I usually lie and say I’m working because I need my alone time. Jenny never texts me and I rarely see her cause she lives a couple towns over, and I don’t have my license yet so I always have to ask for a ride.

I’m hoping to get my license soon, but with this pandemic, it’s been nearly impossible to get an appointment set up. I have this old convertible Chrysler that my grandma gave me, it needs a new battery and hood, and before I take it in to get fixed, I have to scrub the inside down with bleach because of all the mold. It’s a really nice car though and I hope to have it running in a couple months. I have a bit of an energy drink addiction and right now I’m in love with these zero calorie, 300 mg caffeine drinks. I get the new red dragon flavor and it’s just a really good and smooth fruit punch flavor.

At my job, I’m the closing parcel, so i’m the guy pushing carts and cleaning the restrooms, though I refuse to clean the womens restroom after I had done my whole *knock knock* “HOUSEKEEPING, ANYBODY INSIDE?!?!?” routine, and nobody answered, so I walked in and in the first stall, a woman was...having some fun I guess, awkward thing was she stared me in the eyes and only did it more furiously, so I just don’t go in there anymore. My bosses are generally very pleasant and easy to work with, except for Big Bitch and Little Bitch, who I will not say their names as to not reference their names.

Big Bitch has no idea how to manage people, and has a thick accent that makes it very hard to understand him. He’s the one that tells me to go vacuum the front lobby when the cart bays are over flowing and people are complaining. Little Bitch has absolutely no empathy or awareness of his surroundings, he generally wanders off to go talk to customers or check his phone, while he lets the assistant manager do all the hard work of managing the front end. The assistant managers are the people I can actually respect, because they’re real people instead of an annoying character that only exists to make my day harder.

In general I don’t have to do much most days, and take long breaks because people often don’t use carts or make massive messes, you’d think they would but it’s only happen a couple times in the year i’ve worked here. At home I live in a repurposed bathroom, where the sink, bathtub, and toilet had all been removed and paved over to turn the room into an exceptionally large storage room, where I have a twin sized bed, a tv, and an xbox that I never play. Often at night, I can hear my parents having sex over my music because the walls are so thin. Getting drunk or high helps, but most days I just turn the tv up high or listen to music via my headphones.

I’m going to be switching to a flip phone, because I want to stop using social media as often, and I just think they’re cool. I love old tech. I’m making the switch after I get a laptop, so that i’ll still have a way to update this blog. Anyways I’ve, recently been getting into the occult, mainly to explain my prophetic dreams that are either random events that i’m going to experience or end of the world scenarios that happen in other universes. My mom had the ability to see and conjure the dead, and my brothers inherited that ability, but I didn’t. While i’m sensitive to the supernatural, I can’t perceive what’s around me, only what’s in my head

I initially thought it was some sort of schizophrenia the voices in my head, but even after taking anti psychotics and getting monthly injections, they never went away. I never told anybody though, because I don’t want to go to a hospital again. I’ve been trying to categorize and place the voices, but they’re not the same every time, and they’re not talking to me. They’re just talking, it’s like eavesdropping on a conversation that doesn’t exist, but yet some how, the information I hear is usually about the people around me, some random stuff, and me. I’m currently in the small break room, with an ear bud in my right ear and two conversations going on to my left.

One is my coworkers talking to each other, and the other one is a man talking to a woman, I don’t really know what it’s about but a few snippets are “Yeah I piss in the milk, they can’t tell though. I’ve managed to open a door, gonna try to do that again soon. I made about 3 kids cry again, honestly if I could I’d make a career out of it”

Just random things like that, in general though the conversation seems to be about somebody named and I don’t know how this is spelt so this is a guess, “Hephitus” I have no idea who that is, but it seems like they’re talking about a person. I hear this name every now and then, but they dropped this name a few times and in general it’s them just verbally shitting on him/her, pretty much what I do when i’m talking about somebody. I typically ignore these convos but right now i’m bored, so I got nothing better to do. I have to go back to work now though, so Imma go. I’m going to try posting daily, so let me know what you think. This has been Logan or LogNecro, and this is my blog

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lailannajacobs · 4 years

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Empire of Angels | Part Three

pairing: bucky x ofc!Amelie Novak

Summary: Amelie Novak moved from New York to Boston to escape a shitty ex and to get a killer story. She just didn’t realize she’d meant that literally.

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: A bit of a long one this time, you hope enjoy regardless! <3

Empire of Angels | Part Three

Amelie sat in front of her laptop in her office cubical the next morning, trying to unearth as much information as humanly possible about Barnes before his reputation as a near perfect hitman had made him better known as the Winter Soldier. Her pile of information hadn’t amassed to much. Yet, despite her infuriating lack of useful information, a small smile spread across her lips. Amelie had managed to be the journalist to have gotten the closest to him.

After Barnes had left her apartment, she’d spend the rest of the evening and well into the night researching Brad Goulson: The Winter Soldier’s last target. She knew there might not be much of a link between the two, but it was somewhere to start, and a place to start wasn’t something she had a lot of where Barnes was concerned. Other than the white-collar crimes of Goulson’s she’d exposed the week before, Amelie hadn’t been able to find any other incriminating details on him. There had to be a connection between him and Barnes, she just hadn’t found it yet. But she wasn’t about to back down.

Amelie hadn’t mentioned any of this to her boss, Cary, opting instead to find something concrete and viable beforehand. Without it, there was no way he’d let her pursue it, giving it to some ‘more qualified man’ instead. The big problem was that there wasn’t much on Barnes, even before he’d become an infamous hitman. Apparently, he’d been a standup guy without any priors - or if he did have any, he was damned good at covering his tracks.

“Amelie, what are you doing still looking into that guy?”

She spun around in her chair, forcing a smile at the sight of her nosy cubical neighbour, Arnold. Being a gossip paid off in her industry and unfortunately for her, Arnold was one of the best.

“I’m just making sure that I didn’t miss anything the first time around,” She half lied, “I have a feeling I’m missing something, and I don’t want some other paper making us look like idiots because I forget something.”

He brushed the mess of dark curls from his eyes and peered even closer at the military ID of Barnes on her laptop, “Do you have any evidence or just this feeling of yours.”

“Nothing,” She refused to tell him about Barnes’ little visit the night before. She trusted Arnold about as far as she could throw his ex-linebacker body, “But that’s the reason I’m looking. Something bigger is at play here and I just have to figure out what it is.”

He pursed his lips that condescending way of his that she still hadn’t gotten used to receiving, despite seeing it at least once a day. Amelie didn’t regret moving from New York to Boston, but it didn’t change the fact that the move meant starting at the bottom of the ladder again. Apparently, a stellar resume didn’t mean being taken seriously for a woman.

“Are you…Never mind.”

“What Arnold?” She chirped, easily keeping the growl out of her voice, “I’m sure whatever you have to say will be super helpful!”

“Never mind,” He waved her away, practically prancing over to his cubical.

“Please,” She whined, batting her lashes even though she knew Arnold didn’t care for that sort of thing.

He sighed and peeked over the separating wall, unable to help himself, “Are you sure you’re not letting this story go because your article put you on the map and you’re afraid of being forgotten?”

“I worked for the New York Times, Arnold, I think I’ve had a spot on the map for a while now,” She pointed out, her voice dripping with sweetness. Amelie didn’t mention that judging by the constant donuts he brought into the office he was more likely talking about himself and continued with a smile, “I listen to my gut because it pays off, especially when there are so many unanswered questions.”

Arnold stared at her with pity in his eyes as if she’d just told him that she’d fallen for a telemarketing scam, “Listen sweetie, I’m sure you’re asking fine questions, but other, better journalists have been doing the same for years now. Just because you got close to him once, doesn’t mean you’ll ever get close to him again. You crossing paths with him had more to do with luck and you’re going to have to accept that and move on.”

There wasn’t much more she could say to that. Not when Amelie didn’t want to share any of her real thoughts with him, and he only wanted to appear interested in what she was doing to make himself look better. Like everyone else, he believed she’d made it this far off of looks and daddy’s money alone. Just once she wanted someone to see past the façade. Her mind immediately drifted off to Barnes who, despite initially being fooled, had figured her out pretty quickly. Although she was pretty sure that if she played her cards right, she could make sure he underestimated her, which was exactly what she needed. But she also needed another pair of eyes. It was a pain in her ass that she didn’t have anyone else to share this with.

“You know what,” She forced out a resigned sigh, closing the webpage on her browser, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am in a little over my head.”

“Good, I was beginning to worry you were getting too caught up in this,” He shot her a toothy grin, “I have an article about fashion week that I think you should cover instead. You lived in New York, so it’ll be the perfect opportunity to relax and take it easy. It’ll take your mind off of this crazy idea about taking on a story that’s way to big for you.”

“That’s such a good idea, thanks Arnie!” Amelie gushed, swearing in her mind, “I’m so glad you’re my work neighbour.”

He stood, his chair rolling away, “I’ll get us coffee.”

“Perfect!” She exclaimed, watching him go, only muttering ‘asshat’ when he was out of earshot.

“That’s creepy, you know that?” A silky, female voice interrupted.

Amelie stood up, surprised, “Excuse me?”

The woman at the cubicle in front of her lifted her head and stared at her, an untamed afro falling into dark brown eyes, “It’s creepy that you go from being princess-goody-two-shoes to a decent, kind of badass, human being like that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Amelie answered sweetly.

“Sure you don’t,” She chuckled, “I actually read your article, you know that? It’s hard to believe the act when you read the kind of things you write.”

Amelie smiled and shrugged, choosing not to say anything although she was very much impressed. There weren’t many people who called her out like that. An idea began to take shape. Leaning back in her chair, Amelie glanced over into the kitchen to see Arnold busy chatting up the newest assistant. She felt bad for the assistant but thankful for the fact that he was distracted.

Rolling back, she peered back over the cubicle wall, “You’re Karla, right?”

A fake grin spread across her lips in what Amelie hoped was supposed to be a poor imitation of the one Amelie used on everyone else.

“The one and only.”

“How long have you been working here?” She asked, not bothering with pleasantries.

Karla narrowed her eyes, “Three years as a journalist, five as an assistant before that.”

The bare desk, void of any personal items gave Amelie the impression that she wasn’t someone who particularly liked her job, which, if she was right, would work in her favour.

“And what’s been your most interesting story here, so far?”

“Why do you care? And what is this? An interview,” Karla retorted, glaring at Amelie as if she could get her to back down with that deadly look alone.

Amelie shrugged, even thought that was exactly what this was, “Humour me.”

She took a moment to think about it, eyes gazing up to the ceiling while she sifted through three years’ worth of memories. Amelie knew from experience that if the memory was any good, it wouldn’t have taken this long to find it.

Finally, Karla sighed and lifted her hand up in defeat, “I don’t know. A coverage of St. Anthony’s parade last August? I got to eat a ton of cannolis.”

“And that was your most interesting story because you genuinely found that interesting or…” Amelie didn’t want to say the words. She needed Karla to say them; to acknowledge how unfulfilling her journalistic career would be if she continued to be sidelined by arrogant men.

“Of course not,” Karla snapped, “You know just as well as I do that we get assigned all the fluff pieces. Real, hard-hitting journalists are men, remember?”

“I know,” Amelie grinned, “I was just reminding you. It’s good to be reminded every once in a while.”

Karla crossed her arms over the Tardis on her tee, “To what end?”

“Help me,” Amelie didn’t phrase it as a question.

She’d need help to get her hitman, and she wasn’t getting far without a second set of eyes on the story. Her gut told her that the woman sitting in front of her was exactly the person she needed for the job.

“No,” Karla shook her head and continued to a few too many times.

Amelie almost smiled, knowing she wouldn’t need much convincing, “Why not?”

“Because you’re not supposed to be covering that story and if I help, I’ll get myself fired,” With that, she put her head down and began furiously typing on her laptop.

Amelie glanced back at Arnold, noting that the intern was slowly trying to inch away. If that intern got free, she’d only have about another minute. If she couldn’t do it now, she’d never be able to Karla to work with her.

“How long does it take you to write a fluff piece, Karla? Honestly?”

“An hour,” She answered begrudgingly.

“Right,” It took Amelie about the same and she figured they had to have the same workload, “So you’re telling me, that in your 9-5 job, researching and then writing four articles a week means that you don’t have time for anything else?” Amelie raised a brow.

Karla grit her teeth and Amelie knew she had her, “I don’t want to get fired, Novak.”

“You won’t,” She affirmed, far more confidently than she probably should have, “Whatever happens, I’ll take full responsibility. Trust me.”

“Trust you?” She scoffed, shaking her head, “Why do you want me for anyways?”

Amelie shrugged and told her the truth, “You’re far more observant than most of the people here and I need a second pair of eyes.”

Karla looked around as if there was someone in the vicinity who’d tell her she was making a terrible mistake, but no one paid attention to the two of them. No one ever did.

“Fine,” She grumbled.

“Great,” Amelie scribbled her address on a flower shaped post-it note, “My place, tonight at seven.”

“Fine.”

Amelie smiled, but didn’t say anything noticing Arnold’s approach and the coffees in his hands, “Oh great! Thanks, Arnie, you’re the best!”

Karla rolled her eyes before getting back to work. Amelie ignored her. She’d gotten what she wanted. So what if Karla thought her methods were a bit creepy.

“Listen to this. There are over fifteen murders attributed to the Winter soldier in the five years since he defected,” Amelie waited for Karla��s nod to continue, “Two years ago is the start of a pattern in the victims. All scumbags, everything from white collar criminals, abusers to actual killers. Some real vigilante stuff, right? But what about the crimes before? Some dirtbags, sure, but some good people as well. What’s the pattern? What happened two years ago? And why didn’t he kill Brad Goulson last week when he had the chance?”

Karla stared at her from her position across the sofa, blinking as she took in all the of the spitfire information Amelie shot at her.

“And here’s another thing,” Amelie continued, “Why defect in the first place? He was the perfect soldier with no records of violent behaviour, abuse, or even criminal tendencies, so why, all of a sudden, switch from perfect solider to the FBI’s most wanted?”

Amelie tucked her feet in underneath her and leaned back on the couch, trying not to seem so eager. Karla sifted through the evidence Amelie had compiled on her laptop, not saying a word. The silence only made Amelie want to fill it with useless babble, but she let Karla read on, knowing there was no way she’d get any useful information from her if she kept interrupting her.

What seemed like a lifetime later, Karla looked up, “How sure are you that he defected?”

“Only partly,” Amelie grabbed her laptop back, and pulled up a couple old articles from other sources over the years, “According to these journalists - and there’s no discrepancy between them - he defected. But I haven’t seen the actual file that classifies his termination with the military, that information is sealed by the government. So, unless I can actually get the real file, we’re going off of assumptions here.”

“Okay,” Karla nodded thoughtfully, “I agree with you that something feels off about the whole thing, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Amelie flopped back on the couch and groaned, “Me either. What else to you think? Give me all your thoughts, no matter how small.”

“Well, I think we need to look into Goulson. I think if you want to find your Winter Soldier again, he’s the best place to start,” Karla said, grabbing her own laptop.

Amelie didn’t mention that she had a good feeling that if she dug deep enough, Barnes would find her. His warning the other night had been crystal clear - not that she planned on heading it - and he would find her when she kept pushing.

But Karla was right. Something was weird about the Brad Goulson case, and it was definitely linked to the Winter Soldier. If she was being honest, everything about this story was weird.

Karla looked up from her laptop, “What was Goulson being convicted of again?”

“Taking bribes from the Irish Mob, embezzling,” Amelie shrugged, “A few other things. The usual white-collar crimes. Nothing fancy.”

“What if Goulson wasn’t actually the target?” Karla nodded, and idea beginning to brew.

Amelie kept quiet, knowing the question wasn’t meant to be answered. She’d seen that look in the eyes of many good journalists and detectives before, and if she wanted to get something good out of it ,she needed to stay quiet and let Karla think.

“What if he was tailing Goulson, not because he was the target, but because Goulson would lead him to a bigger fish. You said it yourself that Barnes has been targeting scum over the past two years, but what if he’s targeting someone - or something - bigger than just your average scumbag. What if all the people he’s targeted and killed have something in common that has nothing to do with them being an asshole? What if, Goulson being the sole survivor, has nothing to do with your article and more to do with the fact that he doesn’t fit the profile.”

Amelie stopped short, “You’re looking at Barnes like a serial killer…and if we profile him like one instead of a hired hitman then maybe we can we can figure out what his goal is.”

“Exactly!” Karla jumped up a little in excitement, “Something changed two and a half year ago. Maybe we have to change our way of looking at him.”

Weirdly enough, Amelie felt a little uneasy thinking of Sergeant Barnes as a serial killer as opposed to a contracted killer, but she had to admit that Karla was onto something. Even though she’d looked into Barnes’ eyes and hadn’t seen anything remotely emotionless or terrifying, maybe that was what made him such a good killer. Amelie sighed, for once trying to ignore her gut feeling. Evidence mattered more at the moment.

“Amelie?” Karla asked when she’d been silent for too long.

She nodded and motioned for her to go on.

“What do we do now?”

Amelie leaned back on the couch and shut her computer, “Why are you asking me? You’re the one who came up with this theory.”

“But you brought me in,” Karla countered, “You’re in charge.”

She grinned, “Want a piece of advice? Ask for forgiveness, not permission, especially when you’re likely to be denied permission because of who you are. So Karla, tell me, what do we do now?”

Karla took in a deep breath, looked down at her lap then back up at Amelie, “Figure out what else the other victims have in common. Then we figure out who Goulson knows that fits that profile; narrow down another possible target of the Winter Solider’s.”

“Sounds good to me,” Amelie stood and stretched, “You do that. Go home, get a good night’s sleep, figure out what you can and come back to me tomorrow with whatever you’ve got.”

“What are you going to do?” She asked.

“What I should have done a while ago.”

The bar was almost as crowded as it had been on game night, and Amelie was thankful for the anonymity. Not only would she be harder to spot but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be in a Mob bar when it was practically empty.

Any sane person would have told her that tracking down the Winter Soldier again was the most stupid thing she’d ever done, but Amelie knew she wasn’t stupid. Cary had sent her after this story for a reason, whether he knew it or not, and she was going to get it.

Unfortunately, this bar was her only lead, and it wasn’t even a good one. The odds of her running into Barnes here were slim to none, but she thought she’d give it a shot. The bar, although not owned by the Irish Mob, was rumoured to be one of their most frequented because the owner owed them a favour. According to Detective Wilson, this favour meant that whatever went down in the bar never attracted the cops no matter how hard Sam and his partners had tried to get the owner to roll on the members.

Amelie didn’t have a gut feeling about Barnes being here, but it was the only thing she could think of doing. She’d sit here until closing time, trying to glean as much information from all the drunk sources around her, even if she knew most of them wouldn’t know anything. It would probably mean coming into work the next day bleary eyed without anything useful to go on, but at least she’d know for sure.

By one o’clock, Amelie still hadn’t learned a damned thing. She’d had to shove off a few drunken idiots and had spent far more on drinks than she’d wanted to. The bartender placed a glass of what appeared to be whisky in front of her.

“Which idiot ordered this?” She asked, annoyed, but never one to turn down a free drink.

The bartender tilted his head to the side and she followed his nod to the other end of the bear. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of those piercing blue eyes. How had she missed him? He raised a brow; a silent challenge she knew she had no choice but to accept. Amelie knew she had to walk over there because she hadn’t gotten this far to chicken out now. And also because he was calling her out so publicly and she wasn’t one to back down from a fight.

She slid off the seat, drink in hand and wove her way through the crowd. His eyes never left hers as she leaned against the bar beside him, taking in the layered clothes, loose jeans and an interesting bulge in the right pocket. Even in clothes that were meant to hide him, Amelie hated to admit that he was a handsome man. She supposed she should thank him for talking to her, but she wasn’t about to count her chickens before they were hatched.

But she could thank him for something else, “Thanks for the drink, Sergeant. It wouldn’t happened to be poisoned, would it?”

He let out a sharp breath, “You could take a sip and find out. See if I’ve ruined a perfectly good glass of whisky.”

“I think I will,” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “I don’t think poison is your thing, or ruining perfectly good alcohol for that matter.”

His head tilted slightly, “And what do you think is my kind of thing, Novak?”

“I’m not sure yet,” She took a long, slow sip, “I’m still figuring it out.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” He said slowly, letting the words sink in.

She turned her gaze away, scanning the bottles behind the bar, “I know, I’ve heard your warning.”

“Have you?” He practically growled, “Because you being here would suggest otherwise.”

“Not hearing and choosing to ignore are two completely different things,” She pointed out, feeling his gaze burning her skin.

“My bad for thinking you were smarter than this,” He whispered, suddenly so close, he was all she was aware of.

She turned and almost bumped heads with him, anger flaring. He didn’t know her. None of the assholes who’d said the exact same things to her in their condescending tones had. He had no idea what she was capable of and she was damned sure going to prove him wrong. She was just about to do that but caught herself at the last second, remembering that she needed to have him underestimate her and not the other way around. Amelie couldn’t lose a grip on her act now, not when it was this important.

She smiled brightly, “It’s not my fault you mistook luck for talent. I’m not some incredible journalist that planned and plotted so I could get the story of the year. I got lucky, Sergeant. Maybe they’ll actually move me to the fashion column now.”

“It’s good, Novak, really,” His lips pulled into a feral grin, “The act is almost believable. But-”

“But,” She interrupted, turning so that she could lean her elbows back against the bar, trying her best at a flirty stance, “You’re far too talented to believe that someone could find you and your target by luck alone. Right?”

A small breath escaped his lips, the grin dropping into something a little more genuine, “Interesting change in tactic, but I’m not fooled. How about I talk to the real Novak? I need her to hear this.”

“I am the real Amelie,” She lied, batting her lashes.

He shook his head and took a step back, “I think I should be offended.”

“Now why’s that?” She pouted.

“Because you think, like everyone else, I’m gullible enough to believe that little act you put on,” His hands dropped to the bar on either side of her, caging her in. He leaned in close and whispered, “But believe me, Novak, I’m not like any of the other men you’ve ever met.”

She shivered but refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had any sort of effect on her. There was a reason she’d come here tonight, and she wasn’t about to forget it.

When he leaned back with an infuriating smirk on his lips, she brought a hand up to cup his face, the stubbled jaw scratchy beneath her palm, “Unlike any man…so that must mean you understand women almost better than they understand themselves, right?”

“I wasn’t talking about that,” He inched closer, “But if that’s what you got from it then who am I to call you a liar?”

“What I got from it,” She paused, her hand sneaking around to the nap of his neck, fingers raking though his long hair. Flirting with death was a lot more agreeable than she would have thought, “Is that you’re the man who has the power to prove me right.”

His expression went cold, “Why are you here, Novak?”

“Who says I’m here for anything other than a drink?” She asked, pressing a little closer.

“I do,” He narrowed those blue eyes, “It’s no coincidence we’ve run into each other three - no, four - times in the past couple days.”

She slid her hand down to his hard chest, tracing small circles with her finger, “In my defence, you broke into my apartment one of those times. All you had to do was ask, you know, I would have let you in.”

“I know you would have,” He grabbed her hand to stop the movement, “All you want with me is to bombard me with questions I’m never going to give answers to.”

She let out a huff, “That’s a shame, though there are other things I could want with you.”

“No, it’s not. Stay out of this before you get hurt,” He ordered.

She shoved him back and scoffed, “Because I’m an innocent little girl? I thought you said that was all an act?”

He shook his head, an expression she couldn’t read on his face, “It is, but it doesn’t change the fact that if you keep looking into this that you’re going to get hurt.”

“Sounds like another threat,” She snapped, crossing her arms, feeling for the side pocket of her jacket.

He took a step back, stone cold, “Obviously it has to be. The warning didn’t do the trick last time.”

“Fine, Sergeant,” She raised her hands in the air in exasperation, “You want me to drop it? I’ll drop it.”

His gaze raked over her from top to bottom in suspicion, “Somehow I don’t believe you.”

“It’s the truth. I value my life more than a mediocre story that no one really cares about anyways,” She lied, holding eye contact hoping to be as convincing as possible.

He laughed, the sound cold and humourless, “Nice try, but you can’t goad me, remember?”

“Trust me, I remember,” She said, unimpressed, “I’m just letting you know you’re not that special, Barnes.”

He blinked slowly, eyes bright with amusement when they met hers again, “Have a good night, Novak.”

She nodded, “Goodnight Sergeant. Don’t go around killing anyone.”

He didn’t turn back, but Amelie had a feeling he was smiling. Or at least she hoped he was. Because if he was in a good mood, he’d be less like to realize she’d just lifted his hotel key out of his pants pocket.

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x ofc #marvel fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #winter solider fanfiction

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manjimelody · 5 years

Text

Stress Relief

Pairing: Shicca (College AU) **This is written for my amazing friend @mautrino! Thanks for always being awesome! Hope you like it!

Rebecca sighed as she took a sip of her third cup of coffee. She was extremely tired, but she knew she had to push through and finish her paper. She mentally berated herself for procrastinating on this paper. If she had started the paper earlier, she could have been curled up in her soft and warm bed with her boyfriend instead. However, she got distracted by the release of the new Pokemon games and opted to spend her evenings playing it instead of working on her paper.

“I can do this. Only two more pages and then I can go to sleep,” she assured herself.

The sound of the bedroom door opening caused her to turn around and get a glorious view of her shirtless boyfriend sleepily rubbing his eyes.

“Hey you,” she greeted as he walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her neck.

“Bec, come to bed. It’s 1 AM and I need your warmth,” Shiki whined, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

Rebecca giggled at her boyfriend’s cute actions, affectionately patting his arm. “I just have 2 more pages left in this paper, and then I’ll come to bed.”

“You got this. I’m going back to sleep but wake me up if you need anything,” Shiki kissed the top of her head and soothingly rubbed her back.

Rebecca smiled. He was too sweet. “I will. I love you!”

Shiki winked and blew her a kiss, which Rebecca pretended to catch. “I love you too, baby girl.”

Rebecca turned back to her laptop, determined to finish her paper quickly. She furiously typed away while she listened to calming music in order to concentrate better. After a half an hour passed, she was finally finished. The blonde sighed in relief as she scanned through her paper to catch any grammar or spelling errors. After she was sure she fixed any mistakes, Rebecca hit print and stood up to stretch her limbs. She decided that she would grab her assignment in the morning since she was eager to finally go to sleep.

After putting away her empty coffee cup in the sink, Rebecca quickly threw on her pajamas and hopped into bed.

“Goodnight, darling,” Rebecca whispered, placing a chaste kiss on her beloved boyfriend’s soft lips.

Shiki hummed and sleepily opened his eyes. He grinned and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head in the crook of her neck. “Goodnight, baby girl.”

Rebecca closed her eyes, basking in her boyfriend’s warmth as she gave in to the wave of sleep that hit her body.

***

The blonde groaned as she felt a hand tap her cheek, swatting at it with her own hand. “Let me sleep..a little bit longer.”

“Bec, wake up. It’s almost 10:30.”

Rebecca immediately shot up, glancing at the clock in panic. He was right. It was 10:27 and her lecture started at 11.

“Oh no. Shit, shit, shit,” she smacked her hand against her forehead, realizing that she forgot to turn on her alarm before going to sleep. “I can’t be late. I need to turn in my paper.”

“Don’t worry. Just get ready and I’ll drop you off. I’ll make sure you reach on time,” Shiki assured, causing Rebecca to smile and give him a quick kiss. Shiki didn’t have a class on this day, so she would normally drive herself while he slept in. However, it takes a while to find parking so Shiki dropping her off would save her a lot of time.

“I’m glad that I can always count on you!”

Rebecca hopped out of bed and quickly grabbed the first outfit she saw in her closet before running to the bathroom. She changed her clothes, threw her wavy locks into a ponytail, and washed her face.

“Okay I’m ready,” Rebecca said as she grabbed her school bag. Shiki grabbed the car keys, and the two of them rushed out of their apartment.

“Did you get everything?” Shiki asked as they entered the car.

“Yeah,” Rebecca responded. She normally kept her bag ready the night before, so she wouldn’t have to worry about it in the morning. Luckily, the two of them lived 15 minutes from campus so she could possibly make it to class on time. She was snapped out of her thoughts when a loud growl emitted from her stomach, causing Rebecca to blush as Shiki chuckled.

“My poor girl. Didn’t get to eat 20 bowls of cereal since she overslept,” Shiki teased, causing Rebecca to playfully smack his arm.

“Shush. I don’t eat 20 bowls of cereal,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“My bad. My poor girl didn’t get to eat 10 bowls of cereal,” Shiki corrected himself, laughing when Rebecca pouted in response.

“Hey! Food is delicious. Don’t make fun for me for eating a lot. I need to grow,” Rebecca defended herself.

Shiki smirked. “The only thing that’s growing is your chest.”

Rebecca crossed her arms. “Not my fault that I’m short.”

“It’s fine. You’re perfect the way you are,” Shiki’s tone softened, causing her heart to skip a beat. His sweet words never failed to make her swoon.

After a few minutes, they reached the campus. Shiki stopped the car in front of the building her class was in. It was currently 10:57 AM, so she could make it on time if she walked fast.

“Thank you so much, Shiki. You’re my savior,” Rebecca gave him a quick hug and got out of the car.

“Anytime Bec, have a good day! I’ll pick you up 4.”

“You too!”

Rebecca rushed down the hallway, sighing in relief when she finally reached the lecture hall. Thankfully the professor was busy talking to a student indicating that class did not start yet. Rebecca sat in an empty seat, and opened her bag to take out her stuff.

“Alright class. It’s time to turn in your papers. Place them on the table in an organized pile,” the professor announced. Rebecca could hear the scraping of chairs around her as the students got up to turn in their paper while she dug through her bag for her paper. She started to grow frustrated when she couldn’t find it, then she realized that she forgot to grab her paper from the printer.

“Oh shit,” she whispered. Rebecca wanted to scream. How could she have forgotten to grab her paper? It was the reason why she was rushing in the first place, and she didn’t even have it. She was screwed. The professor told them that she wasn’t going to accept the papers late unless there was an emergency. She forgot to grab her laptop too, so she couldn’t even show the professor the paper on her laptop to prove that she completed it. Rebecca got up from her seat and walked to the professor, praying that she would let her turn it in late. She couldn’t get a zero on it. The paper was worth 40% of their final grade.

“Professor,” Rebecca called out, causing the green haired woman to turn to face her. “I know you said that you weren’t going to accept the papers late, but I swear that I finished it. I just forgot to grab it from the printer. I’m so sorry, but can I please email it to you or turn it tomorrow?”

“I believe you Rebecca. You always turn in your work on time, so I will make an exception for you this time,” the professor said, causing Rebecca to smile in relief. “However, you’re still turning it in late. I’m going to have to doc 10 marks from the grade you get.”

Rebecca’s smile dropped. Ten marks was a whole letter grade. However, she was thankful that at least she wouldn’t be getting a zero.

“Thank you so much. I’ll make sure this won’t happen again,” Rebecca promised causing her professor to smile.

“Just make sure to email it to me before 8:00. I don’t check my email after that time,” the professor explained.

Rebecca nodded. “Yes I will.”

She returned to her seat, burying her face in her hands. The highest grade she could get was a B now. Rebecca was hoping she could score an A, but that chance was gone now. She would have to do well on the final to get an A in the class.

“At least I’m not getting a zero,” she repeated to herself.

After class was over, she had an hour before her next class. Rebecca decided to head to a dining hall to buy herself lunch. She hadn’t eaten anything all day. She joined the line in the dining hall and opened the small front pocket of her backpack to take out her wallet. However, it was empty. Rebecca quickly shuffled through the contents of her bag only to see that she forgot her wallet too. She felt like crying. She was so hungry and she couldn’t even buy herself lunch.

“Today is just not my day,” she lamented to herself as she left the line. Rebecca walked around campus hoping to find someone possibly giving out free food. Fortunately, one of the clubs had a table set up in the student center to advertise their club. They were giving out a bag of free popcorn to anyone who listened to why they should join their club. Rebecca listened to the club president explain the benefits of joining, feigning interest in what he was telling her. She didn’t give a damn about joining. She was just desperate to get some food.

Rebecca munched on the popcorn as she walked to her next class. It wasn’t much, but at least she was getting some food in her stomach before she went home.

***

After her other class was over, Rebecca waited outside the building for Shiki to pick her up. She was looking forward to getting home and spending some time with her boyfriend. Rebecca smiled and waved as she saw Shiki’s car approach her.

“Hi darling,” Rebecca greeted as she entered the car.

“Hey beautiful, are you okay?” Shiki asked, voice laced with concern.

“Yeah I’m fine,” Rebecca lied. She didn’t want to worry him. She was just glad that she was with him now.

Shiki didn’t look convinced. “Okay..if you say so?”

During the ride home, Rebecca listened to Shiki excitedly tell her how he beat Weisz in 10 of the 15 races they played together in Mario Kart. His enthusiasm made her feel a little better after having such a rough day. She loved that he was such an upbeat and positive guy.

When they reached home, Rebecca immediately opened her laptop to email her paper to her professor. Her professor was nice enough to let her turn in her paper in late, so she couldn’t risk possibly forgetting to send it.

“Rebecca, are you sure that you’re okay?” Shiki asked again.

Rebecca closed her laptop and smiled. “Yes I’m sure. I’m going to make dinner now. What do you want to eat?”

Shiki frowned. Rebecca knew that he didn’t believe her. He could always tell when something was off. Shiki walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her into a tight hug, causing tears to start pooling in her eyes. “You know that you can tell me anything. I’m here for you.”

“I-I’m so frustrated. Today was such a bad day. I overslept. I forgot my paper and wallet at home. Thankfully my professor let me turn it in late, but I’m still losing marks for turning it in late. I couldn’t even eat lunch. Had to settle for a bag of free popcorn. The whole universe was against me today,” Rebecca cried out while Shiki rubbed her back.

“Let it all out, Bec,” Shiki consoled as she continued to sob into his chest. “You’re an amazing person, baby girl. I love you so much. I don’t know what I would do without you. You deserve to be happy and it breaks my heart to see you in so much pain. Fuck the universe if it’s going to treat you so badly.”

Shiki’s words warmed her heart. She felt so lucky that such a wonderful guy loved her so much. “Thank you, Shiki. It feels so good to vent. I love you more.”

Shiki cupped her face in his hands and wiped away the lingering tears before passionately kissing her. Rebecca wished she could kiss him for hours, but unfortunately the need for air was an obstacle. Shiki rested his forehead against hers after they broke apart. “I love you most.”

Rebecca flashed a cheeky grin. “I love you mostest.”

Shiki laughed. “I love you mostestestest!”

“That’s not a word, silly!” Rebecca giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “So what do you want for dinner?”

Shiki poked her nose. “You aren’t cooking anything. We’re going to order two large pizzas, and you’re going to cuddle with me while we watch a movie together.”

“Sounds good to me!”

Shiki ordered the pizza while Rebecca grabbed a blanket from their bedroom. Shiki laid down on the couch and gestured for her to lay on top of him. Rebecca rested her head on his chest, pulling the blanket over them before wrapping her arm around his waist.

“I love you. You’re my everything, Shiki.”

“I love you too. You’re also my everything, Rebecca. Forever.”

#edens zero #shicca #rebiki #shicca ff

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bitch-aucoin · 5 years

Note

Meouch’s finger slips and he orders 20 pizzas instead of 2. And it was all charged to Sung’s credit card.

(this was very off the top of my head i hope u enjoy anon)

They had tried to be smart about it. Really, they had.

It would start around four to five PM, usually, with a sigh, a grumble, possibly even a soft posing of “...you guys hungry yet?”

And then, chaos. Pandora’s fucking box.

Hogan was never part of the equation. He would simply sit there and and watch them squabble-fuss-moan over what they were going to eat for dinner that night, expression teetering between amusement and being bored.

So the problem really boiled down to him, Phobos, and Sung, which probably actually helped out. Three opinions, after all, already made it tough enough. He could work with the smaller man more often than not, at least,, whose only preference is that it be Earthen food, but then Phobos would step in.

And Phobos would open his damn mouth.

And then Phobos would ruin his life.

Eat healthy, eat better, eat well. Posed so sweetly, so well-meaningfully, that Sung couldn’t help but agree with the other alien. And Phobos knew. Would smile a smug, small smile when Sung began listing off build your own salad bars and probiotic smoothies he wanted to try and free range-locally sourced stuff.

And every time, without fail, Meouch would then freak the fuck out. He was a carnivore, he liked meat, he couldn’t take it anymore! All he wanted was fat and sugar and grease, which then would get Sung’s attention because he had an infamous sweet tooth, and Phobos’s reprimand.

On and on, they ouroborosed themselves into oblivion like that, the struggle seemingly endless until Havve suggested their magnum opus.

The suggestion board.

Really, Meouch was certain the bastard was looking at excuse to throw his knives inside, but Sung liked to think that he just wanted to get involved. Be a part of the fun, you know? So they went and installed a cork board and pinned their top five suggestions and Meouch let Havve borrow his headband to double as a blindfold before they let him wind back and go.

It struck, sure as an arrow, and for a time things were easy and undeniable and good. It was luck, chance, and the Fates guiding them.

But then the impossible happened.

Pizza night.

“Do it again.”

They didn’t even watch Havve do it anymore. It felt like questioning a lesser god, in a sense. They would simply lounge around various parts of the cockpit instead, keeping to themselves. The robot cocked his head towards Sung, who then began to translate for him.

“What do you mean, do it again?” It was a double layered question for both the cyclops and his robot companion, Meouch supposed. Phobos was standing next to the board though, slim arms folded across his chest, something about him undeniable despite being so soft and pink and small.

“Because we’re not doing this.”

“That’s not how the rules work.” Meouch groused as he stood up, stalking over to the younger male. “We agreed, no questioning the knife.” That meant questioning Havve, and they all knew better than that.

Phobos shoved the paper in his face and it took Meouch a moment to make sense of it, but once he did he snorted, then shook his head, lips pulling back to flash his fangs in a casual threat. “You are not taking pizza away from me. That’s set in stone, bitch.”

“Pizza!” Sung clamored excitedly, jogging over to them, summoned by it’s name. Hook line and sinker, every time. The Doc loved his pizza, and he wouldn’t be denied. Especially since it had been months since they had last had a slice. He was throwing Phobos his best puppy eyed look now, nearly vibrating in place. “There’s gotta be an option that you’ll like, Phobs! Please?”

“There’s too many places to order from, too many types.” Phobos insisted, waving the tattered paper about. “We’re gonna spend all night trying to figure it out.”

Havve leaned into their conversation and Sung gave a soft and pleased “oh!” as they began to converse silently. “Havve just said... to order two pizzas! And also that he doesn’t appreciate the indecision on our part.” A pause, then Sung pushed the robot, brow furrowing. “I’m not saying that!”

“Did he say he was going to kill us if we chose something else?” Meouch drawled.

“...Maybe...” Sung admitted, looking embarrassed on Havve’s behalf.

Meouch rolled his eyes towards the Lepid with a smirk. “And that’s why we don’t question the knife, Phobos.” It was as easy as that.

Phobos threw his hands up, causing the paper to flutter, but it was clear they had won. And good. Phobos had had the last week’s worth of meals, Meouch was ready for something else.

It did take them time though. Because if they were going to order pizza then there had to be leftovers and that meant that both pizzas had to be divvied up. It was only fair, that way, and also why they didn’t just get more than two. They were musicians, after all, and sometimes-maybe vigilantes. They couldn’t spend too much. They all agreed on light sauce, at the very least, but then came the question of crust, extra cheese, meats, veggies, breadsticks...

It escalated to the point of Sung jumping between him and Phobos at one point, threatening to nunchuck the shit out of them if they didn’t calm down. And as always, Havve watched as it got progressively worse and worse, fists tucked under his rusting jaw, optics flashing quietly.

“OKAY. SO.” Meouch growled. “We’re going with... two hand tossed pizzas with light marinara sauce. First one is half of a meat lovers with extra cheese and garlic crust, then the other half is a taco pizza with no tomatoes with plain crust. The other one is going to be vegan cheese with every fucking veggie topping in existence on one side, and the other...” He paused and made a disgusted face and noise. “Hawaiian, extra pineapple. Gods, you guys are so fucking gross.”

“All pizza is good pizza.” Sung hummed. “I still wish we were getting the chicken and waffle one...” He sighed morosely then, kicking his legs up.

“You can get that on your own time. Now give me your credit info Phobos.”

Phobos’s head jerked in his direction, dark eyes tightening. “I’m not paying for it, Meouch. You are!”

“OH. Oh no I am not!” They were getting up in each other’s faces again, the tension inevitable. It was the hangriness, Meouch was sure of it, all of them practically starving at this point. “First you try to deny me my pizza, now you’re saying you’re not paying for it?”

Phobos got right up in his face, antennae curling in anger. “If you want it so much, you can take care of it! I paid for the last one!”

Meouch let out a sharp laugh of disbelief. He couldn’t be serious! “What last one? Last pizza!? It’s your turn, asshole!”

“I’LL PAY!” Sung shouted loudly, frisbee-ing his credit card at Meouch’s head seconds later. “JUST SHUT UP AND LET ME PAY FOR IT. And get me a large orange soda.” He went back down on the couch, mumbling to himself sullenly. “Because after all of this, I deserve it.”

Eyeing Phobos furiously as he typed the credit card information in with his claw, Meouch went about finalizing the order. “I swear to the gods, one of these days you’re going to get over this whole health guru kick and actually start enjoying yourself like a normal person and we can stop having these stupid fights.” He muttered sourly, not caring anymore.

“Oh that’s funny! I could say the same thing about you.” What he would give to just slam Phobos’s helmet over his head. He never spoke when he had that thing on... Wait, where was he again? “You’re going to have a heart attack and then you’ll come crawling to me for better living tips.”

“I have nine lives, you idiot! I don’t have to worry about that!” He slammed his paws down on the keyboard, causing Havve to shake his head and walk away.

“WELL SUNG DOESN’T, ASSHOLE!” Phobos nearly shrieked.

Meouch spluttered and rolled his eyes, not caring anymore. “SUNG CAN DO ONE HUNDRED JUMPING JACKS IN LIKE, A MINUTE. I THINK HE’S FINE!”

“It’s actually seventy-five!” Sung interjected, causing both of them to whip towards them. “I’M JUST SAYING! WAIT! GUYS! WHERE ARE YOU GOING!?”

Phobos went out one door and Meouch went out the other and they stayed that way until the pizza’s showed up.

All 20 of them.

Meouch wasn’t even aware of his terrible mistake until Sung screamed.

Phobos was faster getting to Sung than he was, something that he would probably brag about if he wasn’t staring at the current situation with even more than usual bug eyes.

20 pizza boxes.

20 damn pizza boxes.

Havve had ten each balanced on both hands, looking stupid indifferent as Sung gaped at him. “B-but we can’t eat that much. A-and...” That’s when Meouch saw the receipt in his shaking hands. The painfully long receipt, detailing just how many pizzas they had gotten and for how much.

They all looked at him then, and Meouch could feel the floor slipping out from under him.

“It was an accident!” Meouch tried to protest, guilt growing as they all continued to stare at them except for Sung. “It could happen to anyone!” He panicked.

“...I didn’t even get my soda...” Sung whimpered after a moment of looking back at the pizzas and then the receipt once more, hanging his head in defeat.

“I told you.” Phobos at least had the kindness not to sneer or look smug as he addressed Meouch, only going as far as to shake his head as he put his arm around Sung, slowly damning him. “We should have picked something else.”

And that’s the story of how Commander Meouch lost his food ordering rights.

#twrp #this is very silly and dumb and i hope you liked it!!!!!!!!#Anonymous

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anuschkalova · 6 years

Text

The Backup Plan (Chapter 1: The Approaching) Elliot x Reader

Summary: Elliot who suffers from weekly crying attacks finds comfort by chatting with a girl called Y/N that he met online. They have a real mutual understanding and grow close. Elliot enjoys the virtual connection, but is soon forced to step out of his comfort zone. Pairing: Elliot Alderson x Reader Word count: 2.795 Part 2 HERE

If Elliot had to name one thing that he hated the most, it would be his loneliness.

He hated it whenever the silence overfilled his apartment, making him aware of the missing. He hated the overwhelming sadness that attacked his body, forcing him to curl up into a weeping ball and let it all out. He hated his own fucking blubbering; it was pathetic. And he hated the fact that his morphine was out.

Elliot squeezed the empty plastic can in his hand and threw it against the wall. „Fuck!“, he spat and pulled at his hair in frustration, walking in circles. Tonight was far worse than usual - his whole mind was intoxicated by the mixture of every single negative thought he had collected over the years, and this damn mental cocktail was hard to swallow.

He needed something else to numb the pain, to turn his overheated system into sleep mode. What Elliot needed was a backup plan, a good one and preferentially in the next few seconds.

Flipper’s sudden barking made him slightly jump and Elliot stared at the little dog. She always did this during his crying sessions, probably because she sensed his anxiety. But the longer Elliot stared at the big round black eyes it seemed they fixed something behind him, so he turned and sighed. The computer.

„Of course…“ Elliot sat down and furiously tipped on the keyboard, bringing the monitor to life. Its harsh light illuminated his puffy face and the rest of the dimmed room.

One klick and the browser opened, Elliot typed swiftly and the white page turned into his surrender: the blue version of his morphine - the most popular social media platform. He created an account, logged in and began searching. Looking for someone to write to, getting off his mind for the moment, exchanging nonsense and feeling normal for once. He went to ‚public groups‘ and thought about a topic, something that his future dialog partner would share with him; a common interest was essential for a fluent conversation. Elliot knew that, but only theoretical. It was a group called Best movies of all time where he read Y/N’s comment about The Nightcrawler, discussing the two faces of society with three other members and without thinking twice his hands had already started a private conversation.

Elliot A., 12:43 What are your favorite movies?

He brought one hand to his mouth and bit at his knuckles impatiently. Shit, he was so desperate that he forgot a ‚Hey‘ or ‚How are you‘. She probably won’t answer him. One minute had passed and the loneliness was still there. Elliot moved the cursor to close the conversation, eager to find someone else, when a noise accompanied the new message he got.

Y/N, 12:45 I will tell you after a proper greeting.

Elliot A., 12:45 Hey.

He hesitated and typed more.

Elliot A., 12:45 Hey. I’m sorry.

God, why did he have to be that awkward? But nevertheless, he got an answer again.

Y/N, 12:46 Hey, don’t be. I was just messing with you ;-) I do like thriller movies like Shutter Island, Split and Hick. What about you?

Elliot felt his tensed shoulders relax as his eyes roamed over the letters.

Elliot A., 12:46 Sounds interesting. I like any kind of movie as long as it’s good.

Y/N, 12:46 Haha, and what is ‚good‘?

Elliot A., 12:46 Back to the future is pretty good.

Y/N, 12:47 Yeah, I’ve seen it. So you like the sci-fi genre or just the imagination of traveling through time?

Elliot A., 12:47 Don’t we all wish to do that somehow?

Y/N, 12:47 In order to escape reality, yes.

Elliot leaned closer to the monitor. He felt a weird sensation, as if somebody had put a cozy blanket over his back and rubbed the soft fabric on his skin while whispering I understand you. Did Y/N understand him?

Elliot A., 12:47 Do you wish to escape reality sometimes?

His heart pounded wildly in his chest as he awaited her answer. Elliot was so nervous that he didn’t register his burning eyes due to not blinking. His body however forced him to do so and after his eyes were set back to the monitor he had a new message.

Y/N, 12:48 Yes.

Her answer was short, but it revealed so much more. Elliot, intrigued by Y/N, clicked on her picture to visit her profile. It was set private, so he just stared at her smiling face. She looked so happy and open-minded, her messy bun had lost some strains of hair that framed her blushed cheeks. What story hid beneath those sparkling eyes? What made her wish to escape reality? Elliot’s fingers began to tingle, they always did before he hacked a person. He felt the urge to open her sealed book, reading the missing lines that would complete her story, the beginning and the ripped out pages - he wanted to know everything - every misery and every secret.

The familiar annoying noise of another message interrupted his thoughts.

Y/N, 12:49 I don’t want to seem weird or anything, considering we chatted for only 5 minutes, but I’m glad you texted me, Elliot.

Every word became more blurry as Elliot’s eyes teared up. He ran his hand over his face and took a deep breath. Her honesty unwrapped his true intention, so gently and careful not to rip the thin paper that covers his vulnerability.

Elliot A., 12:49 I am the weird one. I know it must sound pathetic, but I needed someone to talk to.

Y/N, 12:49 Then you’re not alone. I need someone to talk as well. Idk why, but it’s so much easier with a stranger than a friend.

There it was. He read the sentence over and over like a mantra. You’re not alone. You’re not alone. You’re not alone. And then, the loneliness was gone. Elliot, who went to therapy for over two years now, started to understand Krista’s words. His therapist always urged him to tell his thoughts instead of bottling it all up inside. Now, the relief was overwhelming as the lid was removed, the inner pressure left his body in pleasant small waves.

Elliot A., 12:49 I understand you.

Y/N, 12:50 :-) Btw, I guess you’re a man? You have a unisex name, my sister’s name is Elliot as well.

Elliot A., 12:50 You’re right. How do you know?

He had no profile picture and no information given to the site besides his name. Of course Elliot had used a fake e-mail account during the registration process. The internet was not trustworthy.

Y/N, 12:50 The way you write gives it away. Or maybe I just traveled through time and got a glimpse of you.

She tried to lighten up the mood and Elliot appreciated it. His lips twitched into a quick smile before he typed his answer.

Elliot A., 12:51 I take option two. So how do I look?

It took a while for Y/N to answer, so he went over to Flipper’s bowl to fill it with fresh water. The little dog wagged its tail happily while drinking. The roll chair creaked when Elliot sat back to read her text.

Y/N, 12:55 You have bright eyes, blue or green, I couldn’t tell in the short time and you have natural curly hair, brunette and not too short. You wear glasses and a knitted oversized sweater with cats on it.

Elliot A., 12:56 I almost believed you.

Y/N, 12:56 Was worth the try and hey, I don’t judge.

Elliot A., 12:56 I’m more a dog person.

Y/N, 12:56 Cool. What’s his/her name?

Elliot A., 12:56 Flipper.

And so Elliot told Y/N the story of how he got Flipper, of course leaving out the hacking part, and they continued writing about this and that. He learned that she was addicted to coffee and long hot baths; that she enjoyed going to the cinema and secretly danced at home to 80’s music. Y/N on the other hand found out that Elliot worked for a cybersecurity company and that he had a sister as well. When Y/N excused herself for a moment, Elliot checked the time. It was 2:28 am and for the first time during this day he was calm. The anxiety had crawled back into the back door of his mind and Elliot won’t open it for the rest of the night. He decided to end the chat and go to sleep, work awaited him in 4.5 hours.

Elliot A., 02:28 I’ll go to bed now. It was nice talking to you, Y/N.

Y/N, 02:29 Alright. Good night, Elliot. Keep the systems clean :-)

Elliot A., 02:29 I will.

Y/N, 02:29 See you soon.

___

That conversation took place on a Sunday night, and since then the two of them would chat every time Elliot suffered from his loneliness. He could go for a week, completely fine by himself, enduring the lack of human interactions in his life, just to break down within the safety of his apartment. But Elliot had his personal backup plan - Y/N. They wrote about nonsense and meaningful things, about deep emotions and opinions. She was the anchor when his anxiety washed over him like a giant wave, she would keep him on the surface and Elliot stopped panicking.

The routine was set like a clock: Crying and writing to Y/N. One week past. Crying and writing to Y/N. One week past. Crying again and writing to Y/N.

It worked. She became an important part in Elliot’s life and so it was only natural for him to hack her. He had lasted two days before he gave in and followed his nature. Private messages with friends and family, bank and e-mail accounts, online-shopping activities and social media profiles were not safe from Elliot’s endless thirst for knowledge. He was more than glad to find out that she told him the truth. Then, something caught his attention in her browser’s history, a specific search.

>>Cybersecurity company New York Elliot<<

Y/N had tried to find him. Elliot leaned back in his chair and kept his eyes locked to his name. It was understandable, her wish to put a face to the person she spend hours and hours writing to. Elliot got it, but he still felt uneasy about the imagination showing her his face. Their relationship would reach a new level of intimacy. He wouldn’t be a screen to her anymore, but a real human. A human she could meet in real life.

„Elliot?“ Krista’s soft voice addressed him, causing him to snap out of his thoughts. Today was Thursday and Elliot sat on the large couch of his therapist’s office. She titled her head a little. „You are quieter than usual. What are you thinking about?“ Elliot refused to meet her eyes and instead looked down at his fumbling hands. He hadn’t told Krista about Y/N until now.

„I’ve met someone…“ Elliot could see from the corner of his eyes how the woman’s head lifted up, eyebrows raised. He got her full attention. „That’s great, Elliot. Tell me about him, her.“ „Her name is Y/N… We are writing a lot“, he said slowly and his face softened. It was the first time he said her name out loud and he liked the way it left his lips. Krista noticed the change of Elliot’s mimic and smiled in satisfaction. Seeing her patient like that really warmed her heart.

„So you haven’t met Y/N so far?“ Elliot’s head twitched slightly and he turned towards the window. „Elliot?“ „I’m afraid of showing her my face. What if she’ll be disappointed?“, he spoke quietly and Krista watched him swallowing hard, fighting against the upcoming tears.

„What if I won’t match her expectations? We live in a world where looks and status rule. Swiping left because the nose is too big or the eyes are too narrowed, the first impression is always crucial for a relationship.“ Elliot began to shake as the anger built up, his eyes darting across the room before he finally locked gazes with his therapist. Krista raised her hand and motioned him to calm down. He took a deep breath and clenched his hands.

„You are talking about relationships. Do you feel something for Y/N and are afraid of her possible rejection?“ Elliot shrugged his shoulder and kept his eyes down. „But Elliot, she must be special if you write so much with her. Do you really believe that she’s superficial and will abandon you?“ Krista was right. Y/N wasn’t like the others, she was willing to write to a complete stranger who’s face she hadn’t seen. She had trusted him and what did Elliot do? Hacking and accusing her for being a hypocrite.

„No…“, he mumbled and Krista nodded. „I know I tell you this every time, but real human interactions are important for you, Elliot.“

___

Y/N, 10:13 Hey, how are you?

Elliot frowned at Y/N’s message. It had been three days since his last crying session and she was never the one who approached him first. Y/N always waited for him to start the conversation, because she probably knew not to push him.

Elliot A., 10:14 Hey, is everything okay?

She didn’t answer right away and it fed Elliot’s worry. He tipped his fingers against the wooden desk and his nervous tick made Flipper bark in response. „Sorry“, he said to the dog and finally he heard the noise of a new message.

Y/N, 10:17 I’m sorry it’s just… I feel so alone right now. My shithead of boyfriend broke up with me and I’m not sad about it, just really mad. I knew that he cheated on me and I planed on breaking up, it’s just that he accused me of destroying the relationship… He blamed me for everything and it’s just so frustrating.

Guilt laid heavily on Elliot’s shoulder as he recalled today’s therapy session. He also had blamed his anxiety on her and Elliot regretted it. He also regretted hacking her and therefore feeling the lack of surprise. He had read the chats of Y/N and her boyfriend, hacked his profiles and found out about his dirty secret named Samantha. Judging by the texts, he had cheated on Y/N for 1.5 years and Elliot was often tempted to blow his cover.

But he didn’t, because Y/N knew it. She wrote with her sister about his cheating and how she was going to break up with him. Or using her words ‚beating his ass up‘.

Elliot A., 10:18 Don’t be sorry. I would feel the same. He is more than a shithead if he gives up on such a smart and funny woman.

He hoped that his words eased her pain a little. God, he was so bad at this. How did Y/N just managed to safe him every time he was close to falling apart? He saw her typing, but then she paused a moment before she continued.

Y/N, 10:20 Thank you, Elliot.

She was holding back something, he felt it.

Elliot A., 10:20 You can tell me anything, Y/N. Don’t hide.

Elliot scoffed at his own text. Don’t hide. He should be the last person telling her to not hide. But his words actually reached her and Elliot’s heart stopped beating when he saw her plead.

Y/N, 10:22 I just wish you could hold me in your arms. I’m sorry if it’s weird, but I trust you so much and I know you probably want to keep it this way and maybe it’s just because of my emotions, but I want to know you more.

Elliot could visualize her crying face - eyes red and cheeks glistening from her salty tears. She must be so desperate if she asked him for the one thing she knew he avoided all the time. Elliot’s backup plan was a real human with real emotions and a beating heart. Y/N had saved him so many times, so wasn’t it his turn to return the favor? His hands ghosted over the keyboards, waiting for his brain’s order. He wet his dry lips as he tipped his message to her.

Elliot A., 10:24 We can meet tomorrow if that’s okay.

To be continued… Part 2 HERE

#mr robot #mr robot imagine #Elliot Alderson #elliot x reader #elliot x you #rami malek #rami malek x reader

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livinganexistence · 6 years

Text

@sidgenophotochallenge, ~3.3K

Also on AO3

“He could still come back, Sid.”

Sid sighs and looks up from his notes. “Can we not talk about this for once? I just want to write this paper and go home, Flower.”

“I’m just saying. I know how much he cared about you, and I’m worried. You haven’t been the same since he left and I still don’t believe he’s gone for good.”

Sid sighs again and rubs a hand across his face. “You know how much I appreciate your endless, though often misguided, optimism. But can we just, I don’t know, not bring this up all the time? I’m trying to move on. He told me to move on. I can’t do that with you constantly stirring my hopes up.”

Flower looks chagrined, but continues, “But he--”

“It’s been six months, Flower,” Sid snaps loudly. The student at the next table glances up at him questioningly. His face heats and he lowers his voice. “And I’ve heard nothing. Nothing. If I’ve learned anything in my life it’s that people come and go. And Geno’s gone. Just… Drop it. Please.” Sid stares back down at the book he’d been taking notes from and is horrified to see the words swimming. He blinks furiously and turns to his laptop and begins typing.

“Oh, Sidney,” Flower says, reaching over to squeeze his arm. “I’m sorry, my friend. You’re right, I won’t bring him up again.”

“It’s fine,” Sid takes in a shaky breath and tries to smile at Flower, though it comes out as more of a grimace. He groans softly to himself and puts his face in his hands. When he looks back up, he suddenly needs to be anywhere but at the library. He snaps his laptop shut and begins hastily shoving things into his backpack “I think I’m done studying for the day. I’ll see you back at the apartment, yeah?” he says with false cheerfulness. Flower makes to follow but Sid shakes his head sharply once. “I’ll see you at home, okay?” Sid zips up his bag and turns towards the door.

~*~

The bar is busy for a Wednesday night. It’s the Pens season opener, so Sid attributes the uptick in patronage to them. More tips for him either way. He hands a customer her change and turns back to Flower, who’s been trying to cajole him into making him a complicated - and expensive - drink he’d seen online for the last 10 minutes. Sid hands him a beer instead. “You know I’m not giving you free alcohol, Flower,” he says. “I just got this job in the summer and you’re not going to be the reason I lose it.”

“Come on, Sidney, not even for your best friend?”

Before Sid can answer, a train roars by, shaking the bottles and rattling the tables. Not for the first time Sid wonders why the bar is so close to the tracks, but if nothing else it gives a certain aesthetic. Kind of. If you squint.

Once he can be heard again, he says, “Especially not for my best friend.”

Flower dips his fingers into the beer and flicks the droplets in Sid’s direction. “Kill-joy.”

“Flower!” Sid rolls his eyes and grabs a towel to wipe off his face. “Asshole,” he grumbles as a new customer sits at the bar. Before Sid can say anything, the man smiles and asks, “What kind name is Flower?”

Sid takes in the stranger, noting his warm brown eyes and full lips. He leans against the bar and grins back. “I wish I could describe this guy over here,” pointing his thumb at Flower, “but words can’t explain that level of crazy.” Flower has the decency to look affronted, and the man laughs appreciatively. Sid chuckles with him before asking, “What can I get you?”

“You old enough to be behind bar? Look young.” The man sticks his tongue between his teeth. “Don’t want get in trouble now.”

“I’m a senior at UPitt, thank you very much. I am plenty old enough,” he says, trying to hide his surprise. Is this guy flirting with him?

Before he can say anything, Flower cuts in, “I don’t know Sid, the guy’s got a point. Your baby face might be turning away willing customers.” He tips his glass towards the man.

“I’m not think that face keep anyone away,” the man says with a wink in Sid’s direction. Sid sees Flower’s eyebrows rise and feels color creep up on his cheeks. His stomach flips pleasantly. “Name is Evgeni. Can call Geno - easier for Americans.” He sticks his hand out for Sid to shake.

“Sid. And lucky for you, neither of us are Americans. I’ll still stick with Geno though,” Sid says, shaking his hand. It’s warm and soft, and Geno holds on for longer than strictly necessary. Yep, definitely flirting.

“Can have the local tap, Sid?” Geno asks, sliding over his ID. Sid brushes his fingers against Geno’s as he takes it. He smiles warmly and hands it back.

“Coming right up.”

Flower decides to leave during first intermission and gives Sid a significant look as he walks towards the door. Sid rolls his eyes and waves him off.

Geno, however, ends up staying at the bar all night. They watch the Pens game, argue about the PK, and learn bits of information about each other during lulls in the game. Between watching the game, taking orders, and making small talk with various patrons, Sid learns that Geno is an MBA candidate here for the credentials to take back home to Russia to help run his father’s steel company.

Right as second intermission starts another train rumbles by. “What with the trains?” Geno shouts above the noise, holding his glass tightly.

Sid waits to answer until the train passes. “They pass through every couple hours during the week and a few times on weekends. Don’t worry, they become part of the background once you get used to them.”

“Not sure I ever get used to that much background,” Geno mutters, shaking his head.

“You can get used to just about anything,” Sid shrugs before stepping away to help another customer.

Once he’s back and leaning against the counter, Geno asks “So why Canadian come all the way to Pittsburgh for master’s in sports medicine? College no good in Canada?”

Sid’s smile falters and he looks away from Geno. He grabs a rag and begins wiping the already clean bar top. “Ah, no, I needed to get away. I told my parents I was gay and they- they didn’t take it well.”

Geno puts his hand over Sid’s to stop the slow circles he’s making. “I’m sorry, Sid. Sorry you have to go through that.”

Sid risks a glance up at Geno before focusing on their joined hands. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not, but I’m okay now. I have great friends. It’s been a few years, and I’ve been able to talk to my sister more regularly again. So I guess I can’t complain.”

“Not complain, Sid. Shitty parents for not accept own child.” Sid flips his hand over to squeeze Geno’s gently. He looks back up at him and says, “Thanks, Geno.”

“Not for thank. I’m understand how feel though. Russia very old fashion. Is why I’m glad to come to America,” Geno squeezes his hand back and asks, “Not want to be forward, but can I take to dinner sometime, Sid?”

Sid huffs out a startled laugh, but grins. “I’d like that.”

Sid finds being in a relationship with Geno easy. Geno is great, the sex is great, and he fits almost effortlessly into Sid’s life. Falling in love with Geno is the easiest thing he’s done since arriving in Pittsburgh. Geno and Flower get along like a house on fire, and Geno spends many of Sid’s shifts at the bar either studying or conspiring with Flower to egg Sid on mercilessly, to which he feigns annoyance but secretly loves.

The summer apart is hard, and Sid spends a lot of time resolutely not thinking about the fact that Geno may be heading back to Russia once he graduates. It’s the one thing they don’t talk about in their relationship. It feels like a dark cloud in the distance that Sid’s not sure how to address. It’s not like him to avoid a problem, but if he’s honest with himself he’s too afraid of the answer to bring it up.

Geno takes the decision out of his hands one night shortly after their one-year anniversary. Geno is sitting in his usual spot while Sid makes his rounds. Once he’s back behind the bar, he says, “Talk to papa today, Sid.”

Sid is opening a handful of beers not looking at Geno. “About what?” “I’m ask papa what he thinks about me running American branch in Chicago. I said would be good for company if Russian in charge of US operations. I get American degree, I’m clearly best option, yes?”

Sid sets the beers down loudly on the bar top and turns to Geno in surprise. “Seriously Geno? What did he say?” he asks, voice betraying his hopefulness.

“He said he think about. Not set in stone yet, but I’m sure I can convince. Will take time, will have to spend time in Russia for a while. But hope I might be able to transfer by time you graduate.”

Sid reaches across the counter to press a kiss to Geno’s lips. Geno cups his face and tries to deepen it, but Sid swats at him and pulls back. “Geno, that’s great news! Are you sure your dad will be okay with it?”

Geno shrugs. “Not 100% sure, but want. Want more than anything.”

Sid grabs his hand and squeezes. “Me too.”

With the belief that Geno will be able to work for the American branch of Malkin Steel Corp, Sid spends the little amount of free time he has during his first year of grad school researching jobs and apartments in the Chicago area.

However, as it gets closer to Geno’s graduation date, Sid notices how much more time Geno spends on the phone and how distracted and distant he is when he’s off of it. When Sid asks what’s wrong, Geno just shakes his head and tells him everything is fine. As the weeks go on he continues to press the issue, but Geno seems unwilling to share any information. Finally, he tells Sid he’s been arguing with his father about some decisions the business is making, but it’s nothing to be concerned about.

About a week after the end of the semester, Sid hears Geno walk into the apartment. Sid’s lying on the couch with a book, and when Geno walks in he glances over the top of it and smiles. “Hey G.”

Geno takes a deep breath. “Sid, need to talk.”

Sid marks his page and sets the book on his lap but doesn’t get up. He holds his hand out to Geno and says, “Okay, what’s up?”

Geno moves to sit on the coffee table. He takes Sid’s hand in both of his and brings it up to his lips to kiss. “Don’t know how to say. Thought I could stay here, with you. But can’t. Was fool.”

Sid stares up at Geno, confused. “What are you saying?” he asks, pulling his hand back.

“Have to leave, have go back to Russia.”

Sid sits up abruptly, book falling off of his lap onto the floor. “Now? I thought you didn’t have to go back until the end of the summer?”

Geno won’t meet his eyes. “Papa says come home now.”

“Why-- for how long?” Sid’s mind is already doing calculations. “We can work out a travel schedule then, yeah? Figure out opportune times for you to visit, and--”

Geno shakes his head and looks down. “Going home for good, Sid.”

Sid’s stomach drops. “For good? What are you saying, Geno? What about Chicago?”

Geno stares resolutely at the ground between them. “Papa need me in Russia. Company change plan, papa says can’t work in US long term. Can’t stay here. Parents have expectations. Family have expectations. Have to meet. I’m sorry.” He sniffs and brings a hand up to wipe his nose.

“You’re-- are you breaking up with me? Just like that?” Sid whispers, disbelief and hurt taking his voice from him.

“No! Not ‘just like that.’ Don’t want break up. But don’t know when or if I ever be back. Can’t ask you to wait for me. Not fair to you so can’t be together anymore. I’m sorry,” Geno looks up pleadingly into Sid’s eyes, “I’m so sorry. But always was plan to go back to Russia. You know this.”

“I’ll wait for you. I could come visit--”

“No place for you and me in Russia, Sid.” Geno says softly. “Can’t work. Want you to be happy. You deserve better than waiting on ‘maybe.’”

“But I thought-” Sid doesn’t finish his sentence.

“I thought too. But like I said. Was fool. Can’t defy parents, have to do right thing. Have to go back home.” Geno grabs for his hand again, but Sid shakes away from his grasp and stands up. He wraps his arms around himself and starts pacing the room.

“That’s it then? The last two years were what? Just for fun, just for you to pass the time?”

Geno stands and says, “Sid, no. I love you, want you to be happy.”

“But not enough to stay,” he says bitterly, stopping in front of the window.

“Not fair, Sid. Parents give me everything.”

Silence fills the room. As Sid stares out the window, he hears the air horn blare from a train passing through town. “So that’s it then?” he asks again.

Geno walks to Sid’s side and pulls him into a hug. “I’m sorry Sid. So sorry.”

Sid clutches Geno briefly before pushing back and shoving his hands into his pockets. He turns his back to Geno and stares unseeing out the window, eyes hot and prickling. “Just leave,” he says quietly.

He feels Geno staring at him for what seems like an eternity before Geno turns towards the door. He hears him set something down before he closes the door softly behind him. Sid turns to see his apartment key sitting on the table.

~*~

Sid heads home, cold air nipping at his ears as he makes the walk. He curses himself for forgetting his toque and turns up his collar against the wind. He crosses the tracks and is almost past the bar when he hears steps rushing to catch up to him. Without turning around, he says, “Flower, I told you, I just want to go home. I have to work tonight and I’d really like to get a nap in first.”

The steps slow to a stop “What kind name is Flower?” the person asks.

Sid whips around at the voice. He stares, unable to move “...Geno?”

“Hi Sid,” Geno says, giving him a tentative smile. Sid gapes at him. “I missed you.”

Anger flares hotly in Sid’s chest. “You missed me? You left and said you weren’t coming back! What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was wrong,” Geno says, taking a step towards Sid.

Sid takes a step back and crosses his arms. “Wrong about what? You made it very clear at the end of last semester where we stood,” Sid spits out, taking another step away from Geno. As quick as the anger came, it begins seeping out of him like water through a cracked vase. Quietly, he asks, “Why are you here, Geno?”

“I was wrong,” Geno repeats. “Thought I have do things certain way, thought I have be certain person. I’m was afraid, Sid.” Geno reaches towards him but drops his arm when he sees Sid flinch. “I’m not afraid anymore.” Geno smiles at him again, timid but hopeful.

Sid looks up at him and sees the regret and the pain and the love naked in Geno’s eyes. He absolutely does not know what to do with that, so he gazes down at his sneakers. Geno continues, “I understand if move on. I understand if not want be with me. But I’m have to try. Have to come back, have to know.” He takes a step closer again and this time Sid doesn’t step away. Geno reaches his hand out and touches Sid’s elbow lightly. “Sid?”

He looks back up. “I-” Sid’s voice cracks, and he clears his throat to start again. The words start flowing from his mouth and he doesn’t know how to stop them. “I tried. To move on. But I couldn’t, Geno, I tried so hard because you left like it was easy and now you’re back saying you want to try again like six months of radio silence was nothing. I spent days trying to squash any remaining hope I had, and I can’t--” Sid’s voice hitches, and he wipes at his nose with the back of a gloved hand. “I can’t do this again.” Sid knows he should pull his arm out of Geno’s grasp, but he can only stand there with his head down.

“Sid, look at me,” Geno says, moving his hand up Sid’s arm and cups his face. Sid leans into the touch despite his best efforts. “Sid, please?”

Sid looks up, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I can’t,” he says, voice quivering. “You might not be afraid anymore, but I am.”

The sudden dinging of the crossing gates startles Sid into taking a step closer to Geno, who uses the opportunity to rub his hands up and down Sid’s arms soothingly. They stare at each other as the train moves past, and Sid finally lets his tears fall. Geno wipes them away, smiling sadly at Sid but not letting him go. Sid doesn’t pull away.

Once the train is gone, Geno speaks again. “I’m know I hurt you, Sid. I’m sorry took so long for me to figure my shit out. I’m know how much I have to make up. I’m know it not easy to trust again. But I’m here to stay. I’m want to try again, if you have me. Sid, I meant what said before left. I love you. I never meant hurt you. Please, can we start again?”

Sid shoves his hands in his pockets, and Geno reluctantly lets him go. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say to you,” he says honestly, his desire to wrap himself in Geno’s arms warring with his need to keep his distance.

Geno shuffles his feet nervously. “Could say yes.”

Sid gives him a considering look. “How do I know this isn’t just as temporary as last time? Why should I believe you’ll stay?”

Geno takes in a deep breath. “Because I’m told papa everything. Told him why I so unhappy, why I want stay in America. And papa? He want me to be happy, even if not fully understand. You make me happy, happiest ever.”

“You made me happy too, G. But I can’t forget the last six months happened like it wasn’t hard, didn’t hurt. What you did hurt me more than I can say.”

“Understand Sid. Know I have lot to make up. But want to try, yes?” Geno’s voice is so hopeful it makes Sid’s chest ache.

Sid wipes at his face to clear away the tear tracks. “I should say no.”

Geno grins suddenly. He knows Sidney too well. He nods his head towards the bar and asks, “Want to get a drink with me?”

Sid presses his lips together and takes a cleansing breath through his nose. “I guess Flower was right,” he says instead of answering.

Geno raises his eyebrow in question.

“You came back.” Geno hums in agreement and holds out his hand for Sid to take.

“Always gunna come back to you, Sid.”

#sidgenophotochallenge #sidgeno

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