#like fuck you guys! that last panel of the gif set where the 3 of them are all encouraging him and doing the basic steps with him

[hausofmamadas]

OJITOS ANOCHECIDOS | Part 1

✷✷✷ LONGFIC IN PROGRESS ✷✷✷

Pairing: David Barron x Enedina Arellano Felix [aka Dinarrón]

Word count: 2.5K

✷ DISCLAIMER: This is an AU version of Barron, like to the point that mans has essentially become my OC. So, for the purposes of morality/sanity/all that is holy and correct this, we are disregarding Narcos: Mexico - Season 3, episode 8, Last Dance. For details, refer here. Also, gonna say this now: if I have to disclaimer “not condoning/glorifying the real people” aka “i don’t sanction the actions of drug cartels,” you're in the wrong place. Like best take that elsewhere porque ya te lo juro, for civility's sake, we will not be going there my guy. ✷

TWS: kinda aren't any? No sexing or dying ? Mostly Barron moping. Maybe canon-typical violence but i wrote this 100 years ago so can't remember for sure.

⁂

However surprised he was, it was also how he knew she was genuinely in love. She'd never set aside her freedom fro a business arrangement or a publicity stunt. Despite her trademark pragmatism, when it came to love, she refused to settle for anything less than fucking fireworks. *We were fucking fireworks.*

Just hours after Enedina Arellano Felix and mild-mannered, Mexico City lawyer Claudio Vazquez are pronounced husband and wife, David Barron finds himself at their reception regretting everything about taking this job as AFO head of security. It's not the pressure-cooker conditions of being the top sicario for the #1 Mexican drug cartel. It's not bc his own boss, Benjamin Arellano Felix loathes him. It's not even the taxing task of managing sibling dynamics in a family business where the siblings are cutthroat criminals and the family business is Crime. No, it's worse. Much worse. This small-time, Logan Heights pandillero has got it bad. Not at all on his radar when he got to TJ after his last stint in prison, but he's met someone perfect. Vibrant, witty, understands his work, someone who knows what it's like to be an outsider, between worlds just like him. Someone who loves him as much as he loves her. The problem? Just hours before, she walked down the aisle with mild-mannered, Mexico City lawyer, Claudio Vazquez. And none of it was part of the plan.

⁂

Barrón looked grimly out the double doors of the hotel ballroom. He took a big swig of water, then inspected his glass with a mixture of longing and mild disgust. God, what he wouldn’t do, who he wouldn’t kill, for it to be a glass of straight tequila or rum - fuck, he would’ve taken vodka with a chaser of everclear at that point. He had half a mind to ask Pancho to sneak him something from the open bar. But Benjamín would lose his shit if he found him drinking. Cabrón already yelled at him for using a cocktail glass just for club soda.

*Ey, ¿te pago por pistero o para que encargues de la securidad?*

*Es agua mineral.*

*El agua es para los invitados. Pancha, encárgate a tú gente.*

He rolled his eyes. Tú gente. Mín always treated him like he was disposable, an unwanted piece of furniture - the kind that clutters the living room, but you’re too lazy to haul it off to Salvation Army, so out of frustration or boredom, you shuffle it around, kicking it, knocking it, scuffing it up all along the way. If Mín knew how much she meant to him, how comprehensively he belonged to Dina, how gutting this whole godforsaken day had been, he wouldn’t have treated Barrón like some dog shit he tracked in through the front door.

But it was fitting, wasn’t it? Because David Barrón felt like dog shit. If he wasn’t so quiet and reserved by nature, he might’ve melted down catastrophically, like Rayo in the middle of Padre Baiz’s toast, or worse yet, tackled the groom, and pounded the shit out of his handsome, son-of-a-politician, country-club, joker face. He let himself daydream for a moment, lost in the emphatic thunk of his fist making contact with Claudio’s cheekbone, and again with the crest of his orbital socket, with his temple, blood on the fake wood, linoleum panels of the dancefloor, a few satisfying, angry, red specks on the collar of Claudio’s crisp, white dress shirt, Dina’s eyes, like a panicked horse, frantic and furious. He faintly shook his head, shaking the daydream loose with it. No, he could never humiliate Dina that way.

It had only been a few hours since she walked down the aisle. He replayed the soft, lamenting smile she gave him, as she and Mín passed him in the pews, and it split him in half all over again. It was as if to say, yo sé, mi cielito. I’m not sorry you’re here, but I am sorry. Even now, Barrón was still trying to reconcile the deep ache in his chest with the the swell of pride he felt at the first sight of her - regal, radiant, self-possessed, strong … *beautiful.* She never needed the ornate jewelry, hair piled two feet high behind her veil, the opulent, stately dress with the thousand-foot train, to be any of those things though. Truthfully, he preferred regular ole Dina. In fact, he hated the way her relatives gushed about how nice she looked on the way to the church, how they wished she’d get done up more often like this - *deja que veamos lo guapa que eres* - but also how they supposed she didn’t need to anymore since she finally landed a husband. As if she needed one.

ᴥ︎

When he first arrived in Tijuana with Pancho, Barrón was struck by Dina, impressed by how she never played by anyone’s rules or did what was expected. It was a quality he’d come to respect and treasure most about her. Regrettably, it was also a quality he knew she’d lose to this marriage, not by hers or even Claudio’s choice but by force of circumstance. You can’t play the dutiful wife of a politician, have babies, renovate your mansion, make hoers d’overs for high society galas, *and* head a major drug cartel faction. Life just didn’t work that way and Dina was practical enough to know that, which is why her engagement to Claudio came as such a shock to everyone, including Barrón. However surprised he was, it was also how he knew she was genuinely in love. She’d never set aside her freedom for a business arrangement or a publicity stunt. Despite her trademark pragmatism, when it came to love, she refused to settle for anything less than fucking fireworks.

*We were fucking fireworks.*

Except, Claudio wasn’t some pocho hood felon from Logan Heights. No, he had money and status and despite the illicit nature of the Arellano organization, they had both of those too. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t come by them honestly. Although, given what he’d seen of the Arellanos’ day-to-day hustle, the work they put in to get where they are, sometimes he felt they came by their status more honestly than the “respectable” Mexico City politicians and Tijuana elites. But that was just it. Claudio afforded the Arellanos respectability, or at least the perception of it, something they’d been chasing since their family relocated from Badiraguato to Tijuana years ago.

But the worst part, the part that he still couldn’t stomach - Claudio was a genuinely nice guy. He had an authentic, quiet charm. He was even-tempered and easy-going. Though not particularly gregarious, not the type to be the life of the party, he also wasn’t quick to anger, wasn’t controlling, and he not only loved Dina, he also respected her deeply. Dina was the kind of person who innately commanded respect but there were few men who could pay it proper, few who could honor her the way she required. There was a time when Barrón believed himself to be the only one who could rise to the occasion; almost comically sickening how wrong he was.

“Que pasa, carnal?” He felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He turned around, accosted by the sight of Ramón’s fur coat. Barrón smiled, accepting the beer that he hid in pocket of the coat’s inner lining. Thank god por esto pinche obstinado, chifladito and his crazy fashion sense. Watching Món argue with Mín earlier, as he pleaded with him to leave it in the limo before they walked into the cathedral, was the first of few bright spots in an otherwise abysmal day. He smirked thinking about the look on Mín’s face, like he was about to have a seizure. He was so mad.

“You are kidding me con estes pendejadas Ra-món!” It’s always easy to tell Mín is really angry when he pronounces Ramón’s name as two discrete words.

“Ponte vergas, do you know how expensive this shit was? I don’t care, I’m not leaving it in the car.”

Barrón smirked when Panchito rolled his eyes and Mín looked like he wanted to bitch slap all three of them. But Dina, ever the diplomat, “Benjamín, ni vale madre nada, leave it alone. He likes the coat and so do I.” She winked at Món who flashed a wolffish grin back at her. Barrón half-expected him to stick his tongue out at Mín but he didn’t.

And now, Ramón and his coat were 2:2 for the night’s little victories, coming thru with a smuggled bottle of Corona. Still cold too, though he could’ve done without the mink strands stuck to the condensation on the side of the bottle. He must’ve made a face.

“Yeah, my bad, I don’t really know what to do about the shedding,” Ramón laughed.

“Nah man, it’s alright. I appreciate it.” Barrón surveyed the room, trying to clock Mín.

“Ah don’t worry, her royal highness Benjamín is too busy kissing the asses of all these Mexico City high rollers,” he motioned to the crowded ballroom, “to be encabronado with you for drinking a beer.”

Barrón shrugged, unconvinced, “do me a favor, just watch my back real quick.” Món looked puzzled but caught on, positioning himself in front of him, as he popped the lid off the bottle with the bottom of his Bic lighter. He winced at the hissing sound. It was nearly impossible to hear over the band’s PA, but that didn’t stop him from glancing around once more before downing the whole bottle in a few desperate, manic gulps.

“¡A huevo!” Ramón clapped him on the back, and he almost choked as he tore the empty bottle from his lips. “You want another one?” Ramón snapped his fingers at one of the juniors by the bar.

“Nah, nah man, don’t worry about it. I gotta stay sharp, anyway.”

“Pffft why? So, you can be ready for those pendejos to attack?” He bobbed his head in the direction of Guero and Azul’s table. “Everyone who wants us dead is already here, they were half the guest list.” He had a point there.

“All the more reason to stay sharp, no?”

Ramón gave a knowing smirk and nodded his head. “Alright flaco. Now, I remember why Pancho buddied up to you in prison, you don’t fuck around. Guess he was right to bring you to work for us,” with two fingers he did a mini-salute to Barrón, a gesture he couldn’t help but chuckle at, the cheeky bastard.

Barrón put his hand to his heart, feigning offense, “Don’t tell me you’ve doubted me this whole time? *Tsk tsk* cabrón.“

“Well, what was I supposed to think about some gringo from what- wherever the fuck Logan Heights is?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever playboy. You better get back to the party before Mín yells at me for talking too much, or breathing, or whatever.”

“How sweet, you called him Mín. You’re really one of us now,” he bowed jauntily as he walked away, “welcome to the family.”

Now that guy … he’s the life of the party.

ᴥ︎

He never expected to like Ramón as much as he did. But Barrón had to give it to him, he knew how to have a good time, and he did it in a way that drew others in without being intrusive. Shit, vato just needed to throw one of those wild, frat boy grins and you couldn’t help but smile back.

Barrón spent a lot of time observing people. Mi ensimismadito Dina used to call him, among other things: lost in thought, cool, aloof. Nothing he didn’t already know. In truth, he watched the world because he was shy, but it’s also what made him so intuitive, an almost prophetic judge of character.

So, the first time he met Ramón at Roxanne’s, he thought he’d sized him up right. He figured Món had it easy, hiding behind his older siblings who did the real work running the business while he ran around Tijuana smoking crack and ruining kids birthday parties, emptying clip after clip of A-K rounds into a clothesline of raw tuna at the park. The loudmouth, huevón baby brother, just another wannabe sicario with all the drug habits and homicidal tendencies of a gangster but not serious enough to get his hands dirty. That is, until Pancho told him about how he “took care” of the whole Chapo-tunnel problem by executing 12 men on site. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sized somebody up so inaccurately, if ever. And though he’d never let Panchito know it, if he was really honest, that plot twist is probably what made Món his undercover favorite of the family. Well, second favorite.

Incidentally, his second favorite Arellano was the only Arellano who knew who his actual favorite was. Dina claimed she didn’t tell him, that he’d guessed. Perhaps he did, but Barrón always wondered if maybe she let something slip. She might’ve told him outright given that they were so close. God, he was mortified when realized that Ramón was on the up and up. It seemed such a scandal at the time, only to matter so little now.

”Ey morro, I’m goin’ to Roxanne’s, you should come with. I’ll introduce you to this chick I’ve been hooking up with. She’s bringing some friends–,” he whistled, and pantomimed a chef’s kiss “*muah* déjame que te cuente, son buuueen chuladas.”

“Ah shit man, I can’t.” Barrón tried coming up with a credible excuse. “I uh- I told your brother I’d help Dina. You guys are hiring new security personnel and I know some vatos from back home that they’re gonna use. Gotta get ‘em on the ‘payroll.’” Ramón laughed at his air-quotes around payroll.

*Sick, he bought it.*

Just as he was about to leave the kitchen, he heard the fridge close with an emphatic *thunk* and turned around to see Món tossing an apple in the air, sauntering over with a dark grin that screamed “trouble.” He reminded Barrón of that snake from The Jungle Book. Pinche plebe and his cartoons, he’d probably watched that movie ten damn times.

“Man, that’s so weird. I guess I heard Dina wrong earlier when she told me she wasn’t stopping by the club tonight because she had to take our mom to the doctor and then to get her hair done.” He bit down into the apple, the crisp crunch cutting the silence, and stood there chewing and grinning like a loon.

“Right, so I don’t know shit about shit, but have you ever heard of a hair salon that’s open at midnight? TJ is a huge tourist attraction but I don’t think we even have one of those.”

Barrón was silent. He couldn’t decide whether it’d be best to take out his gun and shoot him on the spot or run. Maybe he’d get lucky, and Món would save him the trouble by choking on that stupid apple. He stuck to his signature aloofness which tended to intimidate people enough not to ask follow up questions. But Ramón was a live wire of a person, and he doubted the effect would be as chilling.

Still, he didn’t push the issue. A mouth full of half chewed Granny Smith, he just kept on teasing, “S’weird right? I just don’t know why she would lie though. I wonder if–,” his eyes got wide as he lowered his voice, “shit, maybe she has a secret boyfriend or something. I mean it’s bout time someone made a nena of our lovely Enedina.”

Barrón wore a look of pure ice - liquid nitrogen level cold - as he tried to assess whether or not Ramón was leveling a threat or just taking the piss.

Almost as though he could sense his well-disguised panic, Món gave a buoyant shrug, “Oh well! I’m sure it’s nothing,” and bounded cheerfully out of the kitchen.

That exit sealed the deal. He felt reassured that Món would have the good sense not to say anything to anyone. He just wanted to see him squirm.

*That motherfucker.*

ᴥ︎

taglist: @cositapreciosa @criatividad-e @cherixrosa @ashlingiswriting @ashlingnarcos @narcolini @bellinitini @purplesong1028 @tinylittleobsessions @kesskirata @mandaloria314 @marrianena @southotheborder @artemiseamoon @narcos-narcosmx @carlislecullenisadilf @thesolotomyhan @narcosmx

*cue Whitney Houston’s And I Will Always Love You*

A huge thank you to everyone in the Narcos/Nmx writers discord/thot congregation for basically being a large group of betas and for always giving me a safe space to share my nerdy borderline psychotic love and enthusiasm for this show. You guys and everyone else in this tiny fandom are the best🥹

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

Last Christmas

Word Count: 1100

Warnings: some language but none really

A/N: And so our story comes to an end, for now. Our handsome Irish anti-hero and head-strong Lady Lawyer will return in the spring for an all new Misfits!AU sequel inspired by conversations with @robertsheehanownsmyass 🤨

Tag list: @joz-stankovich @badsext @elliethesuperfruitlover @nightmonsters @bisexualnathanyoung @magic-multicolored-miracle @immortalled

Chapter Five: Last Christmas

When Violet turned 35, she changed her entire life. Everything she set out to do as a Public Defender was always overshadowed by just how many shitty people needed legal aid. The one or two kind, desperate clients a year just never stacked up to or made the other 100 worth it.

So Violet packed up all of her things, bid everyone a fuck you and cried in her dark apartment for a week. No prospects or experience with anything but law, it frightened her how easily she dropped everything to just do.. nothing. She ignored her sisters, “Why don't you go back to New Orleans? Or back to school!” And the calls from Tony “Come back to the firm!” Then one day.

There was a knock on the door that startled Violet from her misery. She didn't care how she appeared to the courier who handed her a rather monstrous package. She signed and tore into it revealing a thick release form and three proofs of graphic novels. Then her heart leapt into her throat.

Lanky with a devil’s smirk on his face and a cocky stance in jeans and black jacket with the collar turned up. The indentation of a dimple Violet had found herself touching as he died or slept. They somehow found a way to capture the unusual green that could have easily ruined her. And even though it was just a drawing, she could hear Nathan’s smart mouth.

Beside Nathan on the cover was a shorter, almost creepy but not unattractive guy. He donned a black sweatshirt, hood pulled up and Kevlar body pads. In the background an array of others in orange jumpsuits. Simon, she knew from her own masochistic research, and infamous remaining ASBO 3.

“Captain Invincible and The Super Hoodie: The Misfits Tales,” Violet snorted. “Huh.”

Still she sat down and flipped through it. Each section more absurd yet somehow believable than the next. Nathan impaled on a metal fence. Simon stuffing a female probation worker in a freezer. Alisha using touch to elicit the most perverse filth from men’s mouths. Curtis and his ability to rewind time reliving the night they all got busted a hundred times. And Kelly, having sex with a guy that was a gorilla. It all converged into the final book, “Vegas Baby.”

Violet held her breath as she moved towards the end. The parts where she didn't expect to exist. That she even came across Nathan’s mind all these years later was curious to her, as was the version he came up with. All she could do was laugh and cry simultaneously.

There she was, more of a sexy librarian in a porn than a lawyer. Her skirt (she normally wore pants during trial) a bit too short, and her boobs far too large. Her cleavage out of control through a low cut dress shirt. She had her hair twisted up (which was true) and glasses (really?!). Nathan in that fitted suit looking more like an Irish mobster than the nervous man-child who chewed his fingers until they bled. A panel with Violet leaning, tits out, towards him as she questioned him before an explosion of rabbits.

Here was the story. It explained this fantasy of Violet, sexy porno lawyer, that's how Nathan saw her. He admitted she was rather plain and stuffy when they first met. Though by the end of their visit, her cheek and determination and inability to put up with his shit became a turn-on. How she played him on the stand and found a way to instill reasonable doubt by throwing Marnie under the bus in his defense was something no one had ever done before. Weirdly encouraged his arrogance, showed cool indifference to his charm, yet never gave up on him no matter how exasperated he made her. All of this made her “the sexiest bird I’d ever seen. I had t’be with her.”

Violet continued to the bits after the trial. The club, Nathan handing some meathead his tongue that had literally fallen out of his mouth. It wasn't even in Nathan’s head how drunk they were that night, their illustrated bodies simulating sex on the dancefloor or when she called him Irish Eyes in the back of a black cab. His insistence that the way she dodged his kisses, actually ducked like his lips were a dodgeball, made it “difficult for him to walk.” Violet rolled her eyes. A deep crimson still crept across her cheeks.

Then that night. That messy surprising night when her knife fit so perfectly in Nathan’s flesh and right into his heart. Sometimes Violet didn't know what haunted her more: the amount of blood he shed or the utter disdain in his eyes as the door slammed behind him.

As Violet ventured to that page, a perfect drawing of them on her hallway floor. Nathan’s head in her lap as she stroked his hair while he died. The air in her throat choked her as she read the panels.

“I forget hardly anyone knows I'm going to live forever. It hurts t’die with a butcher knife in your chest. Not as much as a sewer pipe or metal fence, mind ye. I don't always like the idea myself. But I did like the idea of our handsome hero being comforted by his own Lois Lane.

Kelly and Simon used t’drag me up a flight of stairs and toss me on my dirty mattress at the community center. Waited about like I was late for a concert. Kelly took the piss, didn't she?

Vi held me as I ruined her floor. No one’s held me while I've ruined anything. Wait till she finds out I'm such a selfish prick that I destroyed time just to get back a mate who didn't even like me to start.”

Violet didn't even have time to cry the tears that stung her eyes. Or think about what those words really said between the lines. Her cellphone rang making her scream a bit.

“FERN?!”

“Lettie you ok?”

“Just a bit shaken. I have to go through a release form to agree to my likeness being in both graphic novels and apparently the chance to option a film based on them.”

“Uh..”

“Nevermind, what's up?”

“Claire got a job in London at Burberry. Could you sell your apartment? Move with us and be Marigold’s nanny? You could look into getting back into law over there somehow. Eventually right?”

Violet laughed. From a lawyer to a nanny. “Why the fuck not? I know an Irishman over that way.”

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

1/3 of the Reality Stone fragments remained with its host, Ripley Ryan, in the hospital. Determined to finish what they started, the Black Widow and Winter Soldier headed to the Intensive Care Unit along with a team of mutants who were sent by Wanda Maximoff to cast a reality binding spell. Once their goal was achieved, there was nothing standing between them and Zemo at the Town Hall.

These events come AFTER the INN and MUSEUM and before the TOWN HALL.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky pushed through the hospital doors with both hands, metal clinking against the acrylic outer shell and double paned panels. He was hot on Natasha's heels, having made a pitstop for the both of them at the museum before the rest of the crew could cause too much of an issue. When he caught up to her just before she hit the stairwell, he slid her a twin set of guns and then readjusted the strap to his AR. "Sure we can't just shoot first and ask questions later?"

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Although not in her suit, Natasha had clicked on the two Widow’s Bites that Barnes had taken from the Museum. The two guns were a gift from a poor S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who was now weaponless, but Natasha accepted them from James all the same. “You want to risk shooting the wrong person?” Checking how much ammo she had, the Widow shook her head. “Personal mission. Maybe bad form, but family first.” Knowing that Taskmaster was in the building - and still sore from their last run in  - Natasha quietly pushed the door open and raised her gun while she rounded the corner, coming face to face with a crying girl in scrubs. “Too easy.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky clicked his tongue at that. "Fuck form. I would've taken more, but I know how much Barton is attached to his bow." he was only mildly joking, using it as a way to fill the space so he didn't spiral into his own mind. "Think we should've accepted back up?" And now he really was joking, mirroring Nat with his own weapon. He stopped short when they came around the corner and he instinctively tightened his grip on his gun. "It's never that easy."

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Eyes rolling, Natasha quickly checked over her shoulder. “Easy to say when it fits the situation,” she hummed. “We do have back-up. Bobbi’s here and changing. She’s got the codes. Psylocke is somewhere looking for her friends. Apparently, Wanda is helping the mutants.” Whatever helped them through. Lowering her gun slightly, Natasha glanced from the sniffling young adult to the name tag she wore. “Hey, Astrid. Sad day at the hospital?”

YELENA BELOVA: Caught up in her own moping, ‘Astrid’ started at the sound of the woman’s voice and sat up as she quickly wiped at her eyes. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. No. I mean -- yes. It’s a hospital. But our patients usually are cured. Just bad dating experiences. Dumb, I know.” She nudged her magazine closed. “Are you here to visit someone?”

BUCKY BARNES: "Bad dating experiences?" he couldn't keep the question out of his tone, the laughable disbelief. He cocked the gun single handedly before dropping it back in his grip. "In fact we are. Wanna tell me who it is you're crying over?"

YELENA BELOVA: Although his tone was a little snide, the brunette didn’t notice. It was lonely at the front desk if she wasn’t making rounds and her friends were fine but the recent dumping had taken a toll. “His name is Jim. He’s a nice guy. Was a nice guy. We went on a few dates and he went all two-faced. Completely ghosted me. That was three days ago.”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Natasha wracked her brain. “Helmut,” she swore under her breath. “Astrid, have you talked to ‘Jim’ since?”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky just...blinked at her. Then, all of a sudden he barked a laugh, shaking his head. "How mad would you be if I took out all of S.H.I.E.L.D.?" he asked, voice lower, only for Nat to hear. "Yeah, 'Strid, we just wanna talk to him. He's like family, you get it."

YELENA BELOVA: Finally really taking the guns in consideration, Astrid slowly stood and reached around her scrubs for her buzzer. “I should call Chris. He’s head of Hospital security and he can help you figure out where you’re headed.”

BUCKY BARNES: That wasn’t really part of the plan. “Yel-Astrid, Jim’s a little more important right now.” With a sigh, Bucky aimed the AR, barrel directed at ‘Astrid’. “We don’t need head of security.” A red dot appeared at the center of her scrubs, the buzz of the scope a sound only he could hear. “Just give Jim a call, yeah?”

YELENA BELOVA: “He’s not gonna answer,” she huffed as her eyes welled up again. “I just told you -- he’s not interested in me. I think it’s my thighs. It has to be.” Nearly crosseyed, she stared at the light on her scrubs and the demanding man. Fumbling for her phone, Astrid dialed with shaking fingers. Ring. Ring. Voicemail. “See? Thighs.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky clicked off the scope, the red light disappearing before he lowered his gun. ”I’m just gonna hit her. You good with that?” he asked Natasha.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Watching the entire exchange, Natasha had shouldered past Yelena at one point to rummage through the cabinets behind the desk. They needed as much info about the Database as possible, and there a possibility some of Ripley’s medical records were there. At Bucky’s question, she glanced up. Yelena would be pissed, but the two of them had come for a reason. “Only if you’re done hearing about Jim.”

BUCKY BARNES: “Ha ha.” Bucky came over, keeping Astrid’s eyes on him as he came around the desk. “Hey, ‘Strid-“ he employed the same method he had used on the Wyngarde sister, slamming the side of his gun into her temple just hard enough to shake around some loose change. “You have great thighs.”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: “Oof.” Natasha exhaled as the gun connected with her sisters temple. Deftly moving to catch Yelena and ease her to the ground, the spy crouched down and inspected the welt that was already growing. It still didn’t look like Yelena, but she had stopped crying. “You could have been a little bit more graceful, but I’ll take it. Grab her.” Natasha rose. “We’re not leaving her for Taskmaster to find.” Best to let him think ‘Astrid’ had just abandoned her post or was doing her rounds. The S.H.I.EL.D. pager Bobbi had given her buzzed in her hand and Natasha pocketed it. “We’ve got a room. Intensive care unit, Room 8-1. You know, I always said Clint married up.” Grabbing Astrid’s badge for good measure, Natasha clicked the safety off on her gun. “Let’s go.”

KWANNON: Elsewhere, Psylocke and Laura had waited quietly in the shade of the building. The telepathic signal being emitted led the newly arrived X-Men to the hospital. Raven head tipped to the side, Psylocke held a hand out to gesture that Magik, Synch and Nico should enter the hospital. The door swung closed between them, faces flushing from recycled air. “Intensive Care Unit is the top floor. You know what to do?”

BUCKY BARNES: "Graceful?" it came out more as a scoff and Bucky crouched down, adjusting the AR to lay flat against his back again so he could sling Yelena's fake body over his shoulder. She hung limply, swaying back and forth when he stood. "When have you ever known me to be graceful." he said just as he twisted around, narrowly clipping Yelena's head on the edge of the counter. "ICU? What are the chances he'll be in a coma and I can just smother him."

EVERETT THOMAS: Synch followed Magik and the other witch into the hospital, trying his best not to let himself get too wrapped up in everything around him. This whole thing was pretty messed up of SHIELD, but his main focus was Laura. Even if she didn’t remember any of it, he still felt bonded to her in ways he could barely describe. And making sure she was safe was definitely high on his priorities. “Yeah, we’ve got it.” He responded to Kwannon, making sure to keep on high alert as he scanned their surroundings.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: The sneakers that she had worn as Lulu Gordon were more for show than actual practical use, and the treads were nearly nonexistent. Nat couldn’t actually remember working out in Pleasant Hill, just posing on her yoga mat for selfies instead. It was hard not to slide around with no traction but she pushed open a door to another stairwell and held it open for Bucky, watching to make sure he didn’t smack Yelena’s head into the wall. “You would have failed the Red Room,” she hummed. Presentation begets perfection, after all. Natasha had been the best. Yelena had been better. “Zemo’s at Town Hall. That’s not why we’re here. Ripley’s intubated upstairs. They’re making a play for the Infinity Stone. Did you read your file?” Stopping abruptly, Natasha flattened herself against the wall by the doorway of the next level. She could hear footsteps in the hall, and that felt deliberate in the quiet hospital. Gesturing with her chin towards the door, Nat pushed it open and raised her gun. She moved quickly to turn but still found her face connecting with a fist.

BUCKY BARNES: "I didn't care to read pages and pages of documents beyond who was who and what they were capable of." Which was a delicate way of saying, 'did you really think I would?'. Somewhere along the way of climbing flights, Bucky stashed Yelena's unconscious body in a medical supplies closet, knowing that she wouldn't wake up for a while and that he needed both hands. As soon as they both went into alert, hands moved too fast for Nat to dodge and him to barely skid to a stop and back up, gun immediately raising. He fired off a few rounds, the spray of bullets disoriented in the ambush.

NATASHA ROMANOFF: Wiping blood off her nose, Natasha dropped her gun and kicked it to the side. Bullets never tended to work with Taskmaster. She’d keep it for backup. He had his shield and a collapsed bow. Claws in his gloves. Basically, he was as tricked out as ever. “Still sore about last time?” The ( former ) redhead squared her shoulders back. “Zemo can’t be offering you enough for this.” But he was silent, like always, and a moment later the two were locked in hand to hand combat.

ILLYANA RASPUTINA: Sword pulled off of her back, Illyana cast a wary look around the hall. “I hate hospitals,” she muttered. Wanda’s spell was complicated but she had drilled it into the sorceress and witch. “It would be easier if we could teleport out after, but apparently we have to walk. No mutant left behind.” Lorna, Gabby, Rogue.

LAURA KINNEY: As the mutants made their way through the hospital, Laura paused and narrowed her eyes. There were more people in the hospital than their should have been. “Take the back.” She instructed Kwannon. “James Barnes is moving to the southern wing.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky dropped the gun, the strap catching on his shoulder before it banged against his hip. It was only Taskmaster, the asshole with the psuedo copycat style and a piss poor attitude. "Less talking-" he kicked at Taskmaster, just hard enough to diverge his attention and have him focused on both of them. "Glad I dropped our nice office secretary off, huh."

NATASHA ROMANOFF: He had got in three good hits but Natasha was at four. “Nursing student,” she huffed as she dodged a kick. “This is a dead end. He won’t quit. It’s called a distraction.”

EVERETT THOMAS: Everett followed closely behind, trying his best to keep close to Laura without making her feel like he was suffocating her. He didn’t want to make things weird in any way, but God was it hard. “Hey uh, are you okay?”

BUCKY BARNES: "So in all those times you've fought him, you never figured out a way to beat him?" They parried some more, moving this way and that. "I'm not going to leave you here to get your pretty yoga instructor face punched in."

BOBBI MORSE: One of the doctor’s personal offices had always been stocked for agents -- as a safety precaution. It was working well in their favor. Her locker held a spare uniform and set of staves that she gratefully hooked into their holsters before grabbing three disruptors. One went onto her own neck and her body shuddered in relief as her appearance twisted back to its regular self. She broke out in a sprint until she found Barnes and Romanoff, and Bobbi tossed them each a chip before kicking off the wall to strike Taskmaster with a baton. As she should have predicted, his bow separated into staves of his own. “What’re you guys still doing down here?”

NATASHA ROMANOFF: If she hadn’t been focused on not getting slashed in half with a sword, Natasha would have rolled her eyes. “It keeps evolving. More new heroes, more moves. We haven’t killed each other yet.” The elastic she had tied her hair up with was falling out, but then Bobbi was there. Nat caught the small chip and quickly fastened it on the back of her neck. There was a second before her body was her own once more, clothed in the uniform she had entered the town with. Even though she was lacking any of her weapons other than the Widow’s Bite, it felt good to see her own hands again. “How about my normal face getting punched in?”

BUCKY BARNES: "That isn't obvious?" Bucky said, arms coming up to cover his face when Taskmaster slammed a fist down. Jumping back, he caught the chip, using what he knew from the file to revert his appearance back into something a little bulkier, steadier, familiar. "It's not exactly easy to get to the reality stone harboring mad woman when there's 600 tons of body armor in the way."

LAURA KINNEY: Lips twitching, Laura pivoted on one heel. “I look like a cheerleader.” She had gone to pep rallies with pom-poms and enthusiasm. The whole nine yards. The worst part was that she had fun, on some level. That pretty much summed up how she was. “I want them to cast the spell so we can get out of here. No more Vaults, no more Pleasant Hill’s.”

BOBBI MORSE: “I have complete and total faith in this woman.” Bobbi held a hand to her temple to  stop her vision from swimming after a hit. “But we need to keep moving. Nat, you said you’re old friends. I don’t want to ruin the reunion.” When the redhead nodded, Bobbi arched a brow at Bucky before running into the nearest stairwell and taking the stairs two at a time.

EVERETT THOMAS: Everett couldn’t help his soft chuckle at the cheerleader comment as he nodded at her. “I mean, it’s not a bad look. Definitely not you, though.” He pointed out, nodding solemnly at her next words. But unfortunately, they were X-Men and this was probably not going to be the last Pleasant Hill. Or Vault. Before he could say much else, a scalpel flew through the air and stuck onto the wall next to them, revealing Bullseye standing down the hall. “Shit..”

VIVIAN VISION: Vivian followed alongside the mutants as they made their way through the hospital, careful to be attentive to their surroundings. As they all rounded the corner, a scalpel was flung through the air, nearly hitting Viv in the face as it struck the wall and they were face to face with Bullseye. “We need to divide. We can’t let him keep us from the stone. Magik, Nico, I can phase us into her room? I think we’re close.”

BUCKY BARNES: "Shitty reunion." he looked over at Nat, only falling back from Taskmaster when he saw the confirmation in her steady gaze. Breaking off, he followed Bobbi up the stairs, finding no other obstacles before hitting a floor with double doors that read: Authorized Personnel Only: Intensive Care Unit. He slowed, weapon coming back around to rest in his grip. "They powered a whole town by putting a girl into a coma." he said it with a mix of disbelief and frustration. "S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't exactly convincing me they shouldn't become a government section lost to time." The room was empty when they entered, the doors clattering behind them. He wasn't sure keeping quiet had any point anymore. Gun poised, he scanned the empty beds, not even noticing the low beep of the monitor and the occupied bed because his eyes landed on Yelena, seated and scanning through...something. "Didn't I leave you in a broom closet?" he said a little breathlessly, grip tightening on the weapon.

YELENA BELOVA: Was she mad? Yes. At Bucky and Natasha? No. At S.H.I.EL.D.? Of course. At Zemo, at the situation. Yelena had been pissed when she came to in a broom closet, tossed to the side like a basic cleaning supply. She remembered Astrid Massey, but her face wasn’t her own. Bullseye had met her in the hallway. He had given her the device Zemo was passing around to his teammates, the disrupter returning her to her former form. As Benjamin headed down the  hallway to meet the ‘heroes’, Yelena moved to the ICU and found the Database. The codes were already unlocked from whatever doctor had run away mid scan from the intruders, and when the door opened Yelena glanced back over her shoulder. “Seemed more fun out here. I saw Taskmaster downstairs, but this was a better opportunity. They never let me up here. Now I know why.”

BUCKY BARNES: “Natasha is handling it.” Bucky remarked, lowering his weapon just a little bit. “I know what you’re doing, and it sucks to say this, but it isn’t helping. We can handle the database later, we need to deal with Ripley now.” he spoke pointedly at her, knowing that any form of coddling or soft spoken words didn’t apply here. Not that it ever did. Bucky could never imagine babying Yelena in any situation. “Just trust me on this.”

VIVIAN VISION: Vivian quickly grabbed onto Magik and Nico, not wasting any time as she phased the three of them past Bullseye and through to Ripley’s hospital room.

LAURA KINNEY: At his comment, the arch of a brow broke Laura’s deadpan. “Debatable taste.” She commented offhandedly. At the sight of Bullseye she crouched, lunging towards him without claws. Kwannon could follow Viv and the spellcasters. Laura had no problem being a distraction.

YELENA BELOVA: “Natasha is getting her ass handed to her. Again.” The sisters had a messy history with Taskmaster. She hit a key and the code flashed red, the page turning to a simple box for an access code. “We have to shut down the Database.” Yelena straightened up to look at him, her own gun holstered. “We can’t let them do this anymore.”

BUCKY BARNES: Bucky worked through the tic in his jaw, leveling his voice. By now, his nerves were frayed. “Do you Yelena?” he lowered the gun even more until the barrel was pointed at the floor. “Do you trust me?”

YELENA BELOVA: For a long moment, she just stared. Did she? It wasn’t easily answered. “I want to.” Yelena replied honestly. A finger hovered above the key before she moved, body tightening and constricting as she fell.

BOBBI MORSE: Running behind due to having to disable to alarms on the floor, Bobbi skidded to a stop as she lowered her stun gun. “--She was going to hit the key, right?”

YELENA BELOVA: “Fuck. You.” Yelena hissed from the ground, fingers digging into the tile as she tried to pull herself up. She wasn’t going to hit the key.

BUCKY BARNES: “Seriously?” he hissed, the metal plates clamping into place audibly as he tightened his grip. “Seriously, Bobbi?” he was pissed, clearly. “No wonder you’re a fucking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.” Bucky snatched the stun gun from Bobbi’s grip on his way past her, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it until it was in a bunch of little pieces before he finished his walk to Yelena. “She wasn’t going to hit the fucking key.” he crouched down, helping Yelena back to her feet. “What’s next? You want to hit Ripley too? Do you more good.”

BOBBI MORSE: “Oh, c’mon.” Bobbi muttered as she had the stun gun ripped away and trampled. It wasn’t like that would have been helpful for defense or anything. “Tell me she’s not a flight risk.” Dark eyes narrowed. “I’d love to hit Ripley. Hopefully wake her up. That goddamn stone is fragmenting and destabilizing the town. If it collapses we all may be written out off reality. No happy reunion with your girlfriend then, huh?”

YELENA BELOVA: Yelena just spit towards Bobbi’s feet as James help her up, holding on to his arm even when she was upright.

BUCKY BARNES: “You think you’re the one to call that?” he shot over his shoulder, fully standing now. “Being written out of reality wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen to me this year.” he turned his attention to Yelena, looking her over but he didn’t ask her if she were okay. “You make an awful nurse, you know that?”

ILLYANA RASPUTINA: Phasing in along with Viv and Nico, Illyana stepped around the broken black shards of a weapon. “Now this is where the party is.” She laughed slightly. Making her way to the bed, dark lined eyes narrowed at the woman. Tugging the hospital gown to the side, the red glow of the Stone was flickering under the white bandages. “They said you would have another fragment. We need two.”

BOBBI MORSE: “I think I’m deepest in the shit and have used the Database before, so I made a snap judgement call. It’s not like I shot her. We talked it out.” Bobbi didn’t flinch at the spit. “Maybe not for you, but there’s a lot of other people here.”

YELENA BELOVA: “Nursing student.” Yelena muttered. “The scrubs were ugly.”

RIRI WILLIAMS: She had smashed in the window of the wrong room during her entry, but Riri found the right one after checking for heat signatures. “You have a second fragment now.” The suit’s chamber opened to expose the Reality Stone shard. “Zemo’s got the third.”

BUCKY BARNES: “They were pretty ugly.” he agreed quietly, face pinched lightly at the edges. His head whipped sharply around at Riri’s entrance, completely ignoring Bobbi at this point. “So we go get Zemo.” he took a breath. “Finally.”

ILLYANA RASPUTIN: As the armored teen guided the Stone back to its host, Magik looked to Nico. “Are you ready?” It wasn’t really a question. With eyes glowing blue, she held a hand out over the chest of Ripley. “I’m going to be very unhappy if she chooses to smite us.”

NICO MINORU: Nico looked down at the incubated woman, trying her best not to be intimidated by the thought of all that could go wrong as she adjusted her grip on her staff and nodded. She looked towards Riri as she entered the room and smiled in relief at the sight of another stone. “Okay, yeah. Ready.” She agreed as she gripped her staff and held her other hand over Ripley to follow Magik. “Stabilize.” The staff emitted a glow as she focused herself onto the spell.

YELENA BELOVA: “Jim. What a nice young man.” Yelena scoffed. She paused, softening slightly as she turned to face Bucky fully. “Thank you.” Her tone was composed of genuine relief. Rising up to reach his face, Yelena pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I do trust you.”

BOBBI MORSE: Determined to focus on the spell, Bobbi’s face twitched at Yelena and Bucky. Worse than high schoolers.

ILLYANA RASPUTIN: Drawing on Limbo, Illyana closed her eyes when she heard Nico’s staff and began chanting. Confirma. Stabiliendum. Solidatur. Est una tribus, tribus fit unum. Dormammu limbo ex angulis eminebant de profundis et frugibus suis circum nos, ut tecum una. As she repeated Wanda’s words, the red began to glow and overtake the room. It burned so brightly that it overtook the space and ate everything else out entirely.

BUCKY BARNES: With his ungloved hand, bucky cupped the side of Yelena’s face. “I know.” he heard Illyana and Nico behind him but he didn’t look. He had a gut feeling where this was going and he was just…relieved to see Yelena again. It tugged somewhere deep in his chest, making him oddly angry all over again. He was exhausted, frustrated, but relieved. “Also, please don’t ever mention Jim again.” he said on what sounded like a breathy laugh. “C’mere.” Even though they didn’t do this, Bucky pulled Yelena in close, arms wrapping around her small frame.

NICO MINORU: Confirma. Stabiliendum. Solidatur. Est una tribus, tribus fit unum. Dormanmu limbo ex angulis emine ant de profundis et frugibus suis circum nos, ut tecum una. Nico repeated alongside Magik, closing her eyes as the red glow overtook the entire room. Based on that, she hoped it was working. And she also hoped that they wouldn’t kill Ripley in the process.

YELENA BELOVA: Folding into him, Yelena stared at the two spellcasters. She hated magic. She hated how small it made her feel. She didn’t like Ripley either, but they all deserved better than this. “He was a victim too, at first.” The light was too bright then and Yelena had no choice but to avert her eyes.

RIPLEY RYAN: Every memory. Every life. Every backstory. The Town Database was comprehensive and the woman whose energy fueled it remembered every detail. For the first time since they had managed to restrain her, the stirrings of magic gave way to an elevated form of consciousness. Eyes and mouth open, red poured from them until reality was rattled by a burst of energy. Across the town, those left reverted to how they had looked before being changed. Faces returned and scarlet gave way to familiar bodies and clothes. When the wave washed over the hospital, it faded to reveal a blonde in a hospital gown standing in front of the mangled computer system. “I’m going to kill someone.”

LAURA KINNEY: The fight with Bullseye had ended, but Laura followed the scent of blood towards where the Black Widow and Taskmaster had fought. Natasha was fine, her adversary fleeing towards Zemo and the Town hall. When the redhead said she would follow him, Laura had left her to get to the ICU. Without her claws the fight had been a little different than she preferred, but not all of the blood on her was her own. By the time she got there, the room was awash in red. The force of the energy impact threw Laura against the wall, but when she straightened and came to, her cheerleading uniform was gone. The yellow and blue of her Wolverine suit had returned and when she flexed her hands she felt the adamantium.

BOBBI MORSE: Ripley looked mad, but Bobbi couldn’t blame her. She had every right to be. “That’s valid.” She limbed to her feet. “But can we raincheck? Your Stone -- it fractured. From what was being done. We got you a piece on it, but Zemo has a shard at Town Hall. Do I need to tell you how badly this could go?”

RIPLEY RYAN: Of course she didn’t need to. Ripley could feel Pleasant Hill destabilizing and reality growing thin. It Zemo accomplished his goals, he’d be taking her down. It was hard to live with a stone in your chest. it would be impossible to be fragmented. Even then, she could feel the other part calling out. Raising a hand, Ripley looked at the group. TOWN HALL. With that, the hospital was empty as they vanished in a flash of crimson.

[yehet-me-up]

Frozen North ~ Night One

Pairing: Chanyeol x reader

Genre: Horror/Suspense/SPOOP in general/light romance (because who else would I be?)

Word Count: 2,675

Rating: PG13 (nothing gruesome, but knowing me there will be swearing)

Summary: You run a late night radio show dedicated to telling scary stories and urban legends, the creepier the better. Listeners call in and share their own, creating a small but loyal community of folks like you who love this sort of thing. But one night a man calls in with what sounds like an all-too-real story and before you know it you’ll do anything to make sure he’s safe.

Frozen North Masterlist

A/N: A smol mini-series for @yeoltidecarol because let’s see how many ways I can procrastinate writing this book 😂 and because I luh you <3 Plus it’s blizzarding here, so why not get creepy?

The station is normally deserted by the time you get there just after seven thirty. All the daytime hosts leave by six, seven at the latest. A few other nighttime crew members are arriving for the evening shift. The janitor Marcus waves to you before sliding in his earbuds and you return it with a smile.

The building seems to move in closer as the evening settles in, making a protective cocoon around you as you step into the tech room.

Daniel, the evening producer turns and gives you a nod before going back to manning the controls. The show before yours is winding down. 

Sue lifts her headphones up to fix her hair and waves when she catches your attention. You’ve worked back to back for going on three years now and Sue was the first person to take you out for drinks to celebrate getting a regular show.

After dropping off your coat and bag in the closet of the studio you head for the kitchen to get a large cup of coffee. With the eight to midnight shift five nights a week, you’ve learned you need it.

You roll your neck and grab a mug from the collection in one of the cabinets. Even if the station bootstraps damn near everything they thankfully never skimp on good coffee. 

The sound of wind howling draws you to the window while you stir in your creamer.

Snow flurries outside, coating the trees with thick whiteness. Even though it’s warm in the station and in your sweater, you shiver. The sun sets early in winter here, making it seem like the dead of night by five or even earlier.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out. A face is on the screen, a profile photo of someone you don’t recognize. Messy black hair falling into warm brown eyes. Ears that stick out at the edges.

CHANYEOL WOULD LIKE TO FACETIME the screen reads.

Well, you’re not one to avoid a little mystery. With the pinky of the hand holding your coffee you swipe the accept button.

Before you can say anything a sound comes through the phone. It’s deafening, howling, drowning out any attempt at conversation. Wind, if you had to guess. 

There’s no face or sign of the man in the photo on the screen. The only thing you can see is white and gray. For long seconds you wait to see if the scene will change.

‘Hello?’ you call into the phone.

Nothing moves, the noise and the whiteness remain. You look up at the clock and see its 7:48. ‘Shit.’

You shake yourself and shrug, ending the call with your thumb and shoving the phone back into your pocket. ‘Well, that was odd.’ 

You hustle off back to the booth to get ready for the show. After a quick run-down with Daniel you grab your laptop and quietly open the door to the booth.

‘And here’s one last track from me tonight. Please enjoy Pied Piper from the Senate. This has been Local Rewind. I’m Siouxsie and I’ll be back tomorrow at six.’ She sighs and takes the headset off, hanging it on the holder.

With a big stretch she leans back in her chair, twisting her neck to work out the kinks. She stands dramatically and motions for you to take the chair. 

‘After you, queen of the spook.’

You share a laugh, heading to the plush leather chair. ‘Great show tonight, I loved that Temple of the Dog choice to open the show. I haven’t heard it in ages.’

She pouts while slinging her purse over her shoulder. ‘Thanks. One day I’ll get over Chris Cornell, but that day is not today.’

The two of you air kiss as she passes you, wrapping her scarf around her neck. ‘It will never be that day, Suse,’ you laugh gently.

She pauses in the doorway, leaning her hip against the wood. ‘Ah, you’re right. Have fun tonight babe, don’t let the demons get you.’ With a wink and a waggle of her eyebrows, she’s gone.

You laugh, the sound echoing back to you as the door shuts. You slide into the chair and lift the headset over your ears. Bopping along the ending of the song you pull up the notes for the show on your laptop.

The insulation in the booth makes it feel like a bubble. Only the lightboard of calls that come in throughout the night, and Daniel in the control room, remind you that you’re not alone in the world.

The song playing fades out and you look to Daniel. After a beat he points to you and the ON AIR light flashes to red, letting you know you’re live.

‘Hello and welcome back to The Long Night on 107.9 KJWZ Seattle, where the dial might stop, but we don’t. I’m Roxy and I’ll be your host for the evening. Let’s get weird.’ Your assumed name slips off your tongue like clockwork, further distancing you from the real world.

You smile to yourself as you read the first short story, one of your favorites from the SPC Foundation database. 

Here feels like your home. Your voice on air is absent of the nervousness that it seems to take on in your daily life. Here you don’t have to worry about bills or eating a balanced fucking diet or grad school and your mountain of reading to get through by Sunday for your PhD in mythology and folklore.

Here you can savor the pure joy of sharing, hearing, and discussing excellent stories that remind you why you love the craft of storytelling.

The first hour of the show goes by fast. A regular listener, who goes by the handle Ghoulish, calls in to share the piece he’s working on. From the semi-regular stories he’s called in to share you suspect he’s an aspiring horror writer. Sure, his submissions might read a bit like someone who worships and emulates Stephen King. But he’s got style, and loads of potential, and you’re always happy he calls.

Once he finishes you jump back on the line. ‘Oooh, that was a good one this week Ghoulish. Thanks so much for calling in.’

You jump to the next chunk of your notes. ‘Tonight’s local myth is the story of Mariner High up in Everett. According to legend a creature haunts the school, stalking its halls and terrifying the night janitor so badly he was put in the hospital with heart palpitations last month.’

In the control room Daniel’s mouth presses together in interest and he gives you a thumbs up. He used to hate being the night producer, claiming he was too old and superstitious to be able to cope with hearing stories like the ones you dive into. But now, after three years together, he’s coming around.

‘Witnesses report that since the 1990’s late night visitors to the school have noticed flickering lights, unearthly whispering from the men’s locker rooms, and the sound of nails scratching along lockers. Many claim that the entity is the spirit of a worker who died at the school during its construction in the mid-seventies.’

Daniel frowns and wraps his arms around his torso dramatically, his salt and pepper hair shaking as he cringes in mock horror. You lift a hand to your lips to smother a laugh.

‘Allegedly, if you get close enough to this being you see a pair of floating, glowing eyes. Jackson Donnelly, a member of the football team who was there late on Friday night after practice claims that he saw the eyes around a corner. The longer he looked he says that an outline of a tall man with wings started to form.’

‘Supposedly this figure is protective of the school and its students, but Jackson says that the form definitely did not seem welcoming. After his phone rang, distracting him, Jackson said he looked back and the figure was gone. He quickly dressed and left, swearing to never be in the school late at night again.’

‘So, what do you guys think? Real? Myth? Let me know.’

Lights start blinking on your call panel and you grin. It never fails to amaze you how many people listen to and love your show. A small cult following has grown up after an article from The Stranger highlighted it and you’re so grateful to be able to do this.

You push the button for the first line. ‘Welcome on the show, what’s your name?’

‘Hi, my name’s Janelle. My cousin Alisha goes to Mariner and she said for sure it’s real. She and her friends were there working on signs for cheerleading and they swear they heard something in the gym calling their names. Got so freaked out they ran out immediately.’

‘Oooh, fascinating. Thanks for calling in Janelle.’ You push the second line. ‘Hi, what’s your name?’

‘David. I gotta say this sounds pretty cliche, it’s probably just an old building with faulty lights and bad plumbing. Not that it’s not a great story, and no offense to Janelle’s cousin, but I just don’t buy it.’

‘Very possible, David. Thanks for playing Devil’s Advocate as always,’ you laugh warmly and David joins you for a beat before you end the call.

After a few more responses you see its approaching ten o’clock and decide to move on. ‘Thanks for calling in everyone. We’re going to take a short break for some sponsor messages and then I’ll open it up for submissions again. Don’t go anywhere.’

When you get back to the chair after a quick bathroom break you settle in, easing the sleeves of your sweater over your palms. The temperature in the building gets freezing, especially when everyone goes home for the evening.

The ads finish and Daniel signals that you’re back. ‘Alright, let’s see what stories you guys have for us tonight. Hmmm.’

You debate, watching as the ten lines all fill up with blinking lights. Something makes you hit button six. ‘Hello, lucky number six. Welcome to the show, tell us about yourself.’

The line is dead for a moment and you almost move on and hit another button, but then a man’s voice comes on. ‘Hi. I’m…. you can call me C.’ His voice is a deep baritone, wrapping around you like silk.

You look at the station computer at his number and a chill runs down your spine. 1-907-613-2458 - UNLISTED NUMBER - NOME

‘Hi C, where are you calling in from tonight? The extension on your line says 907. Are you calling from Nome… Alaska? That can’t be right.’

He ignores the question. ‘I thought you might be able to help me.’

You meet Daniel’s raised brow through the glass. Running a night time radio show about scary stories, you’ve definitely heard your fair share of weirdos. People playing practical jokes or soliciting all manner of freaky sex acts. People who are way too into some of the more gruesome legends, especially the ones involving women.

Luckily, those kind of calls are few and far between. And this man’s voice is steady and sure, unlike the tremor and intonation of some of the more disturbing callers.

You lean forward in the chair. ‘Help you how?’

‘I see her sometimes. At night.’ His reply comes fast.

His words ignite that feeling in your gut that sets you on edge. Alarm races through your veins, speeding your pulse. ‘See who?’

When his voice returns it’s distant, quieter. ‘The white woman. Amarok Siku. That’s… what the others call her.’

Fear slides through your lungs. If he’s making this up he’s a damned good actor. ‘Others?’

He carries on, the line fading into static. You press your headphones to your ears to hear him clearly. ‘I see her outside my window. From the trees. I think… she wants me to come and walk with her. Onto the ice.’

‘C. Are you alright? How can we help?’ You err on the side that he’s someone in honest need of help. ‘This is a radio show down in Seattle and we talk about paranormal stories and legends. Is this woman… human?’

‘She wasn’t supposed to be real,’ abruptly his voice continues, rising at the end to a panicked, keening sound. ‘Please, help m-’

The line clicks off. You sit there in silence for a few moments, trying to slow your breathing. Daniel waves to get your attention. Are you okay? He mouths.

You nod and shake yourself, jumping back onto the line. Something feels off, and terribly wrong. You can’t explain it, but you know that wasn’t just a story.

With a cough to clear your voice, you continue. ‘Well, thank you... C. That was definitely a new one for us. What did you guys think? Let me know.’

The lights on the panel flare to life, but you can’t look away from his number, still on the screen.

You finish the show as best you can, unable to get your mind off that call.

At eleven fifty-nine you wind things down, stifling a yawn. ‘Thank you for hanging out with me tonight everyone. I’m Roxy and this has been The Long Night. See you guys tomorrow... stay safe,’ you add after a beat.

While you gather your things Daniel queues up the programming that runs from midnight to five when the morning shows start running. Per habit you tidy the studio, slide on your coat, grab your purse and laptop, and flip the switch before leaving the booth.

Daniel presses a final button and motions for you to exit first. He turns the lights out in the halls while you snake your way through the building. Neither of you speaks, both unsure what to say.

After locking the front double doors he finally turns to you. ‘Are you okay going home tonight? That was some weird shit, Rox.’

You shrug, trying to shake off the weird feeling that’s lingered on your skin since C’s call. Folding your arms to keep in the warmth, you plaster a smile on your face. 

‘Oh yeah, Dan, I’ll be fine. It was just a prank or some new thing someone’s trying. I’m sure.’

He pats your shoulder. ‘I’m getting too old for this shit,’ he says in his best Murtaugh impression and you crack a genuine smile.

With a laugh he gets in his car and drives away, raising a hand in farewell to you. Once inside your own car you start it up, willing heat to flood the space. As soon as Daniel pulls away, leaving you in the empty lot, you pull out your phone.

The number is still there on the screen from when you typed it in - 1-907-613-2458 - and with your breath visible in front of you, you debate. ‘This is silly,’ you say aloud to yourself.

But still, something makes you press the call button. The number fades as the phone starts ringing. 

CALLING CHANYEOL the screen now says, the face from earlier popping up.

‘What the-’

While it rings you click the home screen and pull up your contacts. You shake your head in confusion while you scroll to the C’s. Christine. Caitlin. Carrie-Ann. Camille. Connor.

Definitely no one named Chanyeol. And you’d have remembered that face.

The phone makes a beep, the line going dead. Not even a voicemail option. ‘That’s so fucking weird.’

Pulling up Google you type in the words he said: Amarok Siku. Dead end links come up one by one. Eventually you add ‘Alaska’ and finally get somewhere. The words in Inuit mean Ice Wolf. 

You purse your lips, drawing one into your mouth to chew on it. Adding ‘myth,’ you can’t find any results. Usually urban legends or tall tales at least have some blog posts or local articles, but for this, there’s nothing. 

Lastly you type in ‘Chanyeol’ and ‘Nome, Alaska’ and get no results. 

Disturbed, carving the warmth and safety of your apartment you shrug, turning on the radio and moving the car to drive.

[yaachtynoboat711]

At First Glance Ch. 4: The Commencement 👩🏽‍🎓

A/N: It’s finally here! The end of At First Glance has arrived and I have to say, I’m a bit emotional about ending my first series 😭. Thank you guys for supporting At First Glance these past few months. I have another series in development and then hopefully I’ll actually think about the wedding series. But for now, enjoy our fave couple in this series finale!

Word Count: ~3.2k

Warning(s): Black Excellence, Black Love, Smut (FINALLY!)

Saturday, December 7, 2013. 11:06 a.m.

Woolsey Hall, Yale University

At just 23, Yaa was the youngest recipient of a doctorate in African Studies. She was also a joint PhD-JD student that became the valedictorian of both classes (she earned her JD in May), which as you imagine, is almost unheard of, ESPECIALLY at a prestigious institution such as Yale.

Of all the people proud of her accomplishments, Winston was undoubtedly the happiest. She was the smartest person he’d ever met by a long shot. Not only was she smart as hell, but she was also gorgeous and had enough personality for seven people. Bonus points for Winston. As a fellow Yale grad, Winston enjoyed the return to New Haven. Amid all the celebration, Yaa and her family were meeting Winston’s mom and sister today. Whew chile, the celebrations. Winston and his family found Yaa’s family, Tanisha, Kimya, and Daveon (AKA the Yalemigos, or the Migos) all sitting in the same area.

“Mr. Duke great to see you again.”, Mustapha said hugging Winston.

“Likewise, sir! Great to be seen. Get to see my little lady graduate.”, he laughed. His laugh turned into a full smile as the reality of his girlfriend’s accomplishments set in. He looked down at the program and chuckled as Yaa’s name led the list of her 16 other cohorts. My little genius.

The fanfare startled Winston out of his thoughts. The guests looked down to watch the faculty and graduates proceed into Woolsey’s main seating. Proud friends and family cheered, hollered, and whistles as they saw their respective graduate. Winston scanned the incoming crowd for his short scholar, but to no avail. What took Winston 3 minutes took the Migos only 0.2 seconds to spot their 4th companion.

“HOODIE WHOOOOOOOO!”, the friends yelled as they spotted their best friend. Yaa’s neck snapped in the direction she heard the squad call. Can’t take niggas anywhere. She shook her head and examined the friends and family in attendance. Everyone stood up and took pictures and acknowledging their graduate. Winston saw his girlfriend and stared in amazement before he mouthed “Love you” to her. She mouthed “Love you, too” to him before taking her seat.

Yaa walked in with all confidence in her stride. She was glowing and there was nothing better that could happen today than this present moment. Her tam sat on top of her curly locs. Her round tortoise shell frames added an intellectual and sophisticated touch to her look. Her signature bright red lips seldom separated as her white smile remained plastered on her face. She bore her gold valedictorian medal below her blue hood along with her blue and gold ΣΓΡ and black Class of 2013 Kente stoles. The Black graduates wore black leather gloves on their right hands in solidarity and in reverence to their ancestors. Except for being around Winston, she’d never looked happier.

The ceremony went as any other large commencement: the speaker, the President and Provost gave words of encouragement to all the graduates on their future endeavors. Each college presented their graduates with their Yale degree. Finally, the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences conferred degrees. Ironically, the Africana and African-American Studies Department elected to go last due the small number of graduates. When the department was announced, Yaa’s family prepared to get up. They shared mutual expressions of joy and bliss as “Doctor Khalida Yaa Denae Abdullah, Magna Cum Laude.”, echoed throughout Woolsey Hall. She raised her right fist high in the air as she walked across the stage. She hugged her advisor and committee chair before receiving her degree. She walked off the stage doing a quick praise break. The least she could do.

The grads recessed out of Woolsey and immediately searched for their parties and took pictures. Yaa was in the middle of her search when she felt two sturdy taps on her shoulder. It was him. “Hey, Doc.”, he greeted. Yaa scoffed as her billion dollar smile grew from a smirk. She playfully rolled her eyes and shook her head before reaching up for a kiss. “Hey, Duke. A girl can get used to hearing ‘Doc’. ”, she hummed into his lips. He finally broke the kiss and handed her a bouquet of her favorite roses: white, yellow, and pink. She gasped at the sight. “Baby! They’re beautiful.”, she squealed. She jumped right back into his embrace. “More where that came from, Denae.”, he whispered.

He never called her Denae, nor did his voice ever get that deep whenever he talked to her. She shot him a look before kissing him once more and walking towards the Migos, who were all Snapchatting and gassing her up.

“BEST FRIEND DONE GOT A WHOLE FOURTH DEGREE, Y’ALL!”, Daveon yelled. Yaa’s shoulders shook as she laughed at her foolish ass friends.

“Yaaaaaasssss ma’am! You better be Black Excellence. C’mon, Lil’ Angela!”, Kimya called.

“Bitch, I’m just tryna see the outfit. The people deserve to see what you’re wearing.”, Tanisha bluntly stated. The other two egged Yaa on to unzip the massive black gown. The only thing everyone could see were her black velvet smoking loafers. She unzipped the gown, unveiling a black pencil skirt and a white shirt with “PheD the Hell Up” written in blue. She would always get the laugh in somewhere.

She insisted that the family take pictures at her rental house because it was still December in New Haven, Connecticut. Chatter, laughter, and faint sounds of Black Christmas music filled the house as both families meshed as one. Carrie and Momma Cora held conversation most of the afternoon; Cindy and Khadijah exchanged medical stories; and Mustapha and Rainey discussed everything under the sun with Avery, Jahlil, and Winston. All four of the Migos were upstairs taking naps to prepare for dinner. Yaa especially deserved that nap. She hadn’t a decent amount of sleep since returning from Thanksgiving in Louisiana.

“Where’s Khalida? I think it’s time we all split.”, Khadijah asked Winston.

“She’s up there with her friends taking a nap. Gal deserves it. That means we need to leave and take naps of our own before dinner tonight.”, Carrie replied. “Winston, you staying here or something?”

“Yes ma’am. I might as well join the Snooze Crew upstairs.”, he said walking towards the front door. He finally went upstairs to Yaa’s room where he was greeted to a room full of snoring. Yaa’s petite figure was curled up in the middle of the messy bed. Her locs were scattered across her silk pillows and her Breakfast at Tiffany‘s eye mask covered her eyes. Her mouth was open as she snored loudly.She was dead to the world. Winston chuckled to himself as he watched his beautiful scholar catch up on Z’s. He sat on the unoccupied side of the bed and watched her sleep. He cleared her face of her wild locs and stopped when she stirred. Eventually, she unmasked herself and gasped when she saw Winston.

“Shit! Don’t scare me like th... was I snoring? Oh fuck, how long have you been watching me?”, she asked. He shook his head before kissing her forehead.

“Yes, you were snoring. Don’t worry about that. I still love you. I’ve been here long enough.”, Winston admitted.

“Well, since you love me so much, let’s try to find brunch. I’ll wake up the crew.”, she announced as she crawled out of bed, “That way, we won’t be as hungry going to this bougie ass Mediterranean spot my folks selected for tonight’s dinner.”

He rolled his eyes, “You better be glad you graduated today, Pumpkin.”

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

Olea Restaurant, New Haven, Connecticut, 8:15 p.m.

The graduation dinner was running smoothly. The private dining area was tastefully accented with gifts and Yaa’s graduation pictures. Nearly twenty minutes after the family arrived, Yaa and Tanisha walked in side by side. Everyone stood and applauded the woman of the hour. Winston stared in awe at Yaa who, as always, strutted into the room with such grace and power.

Khalida chose the more adult outfit option for dinner. She wore her locs in a low bun and kept her glasses, tam, hood, stoles, and medal on. Her royal blue dress fit snug. Though Khalida often wore form-fitting dresses, none were as form-fitting as this one. Her rather well-endowed chest and wide hips were brought to the forefront; her fupa was somewhat concealed by the side peplum panels. The nude pumps she wore were accented by her anklets. Truly a work of art.

“My goodness, sweetheart. This dress is absolutely divine on you.”, Khadijah commented as she examined her first born’s outfit.

“Ibby, you look refreshed. That nap did you some good,I see ”, Mustapha teased.

“Thanks, Umi and Baba.”, Yaa said. “Thank all of y’all for coming and supporting the kid. I can’t believe this is all happening. I’m like...finished! Yale really gave me a doctorate.” The realization of her journey’s culmination brought tears of joy to the “hard-nosed” Yaa. She finally sat the far end of the table next to Winston.

“Pumpkin, you look divine.”, Winston whispered in Yaa’s ear during their hug and kiss. He twirled her around to get a better look of her outfit. She’s going to be the death of me.

“Why, thank you. Gotta show school spirit, y’know.”, Yaa joked. Winston pushed his girlfriend’s chair up to the table.

“I’d like to make a toast...”, Winston stood and began, “...to the woman of the hour, Doctor Abdullah. I know we’ve been in each other’s lives for not even two months, but watching you work and grind towards your goals has given me the initiative to better myself not only as an up and coming actor, but as a person. Khalida, you give me more reasons to be the luckiest man alive and today is the pinnacle. I love you so so much, Khalida, you have no idea. So here’s to our Khalida and her many successes now and forever. Ase.”

The table echoed scattered “Asé’s” and “aww’s” as they clinked their glasses. Yaa cheesed to keep tears forming as she looked into Winston’s eyes as he sat down. “I love you more,Winston.”, she declared as she kissed him. He placed his hand at the hem of her dress and rubbed her thigh. She cut her eyes to his hands and then directly to him; he replied with a smirk. Buzz buzz. Yaa wasn’t the only one who peeped Winston’s unusual behavior.

———————

Winston walked into the bathroom to see Yaa freedom her locs from its bun. He enjoyed seeing her hair down. She noticed him in the mirror studying her.

“May I help you,sir?”, Yaa questioned. Winston walked behind her and nuzzled her neck.

"I love you." he said, wrapping his arms around her.

"What has gotten into you, today? You haven't kept your hands off me all day." she said, giggling.

"I just want to show you that I love you. I think I may have just realized how much I want you." he said. She looked at him, taken aback.

"Want me? You are just now figuring that out?" ,she said, pulling away from him and crossing her arms over her chest.

"That's not what I mean." he said, in a low gruff voice. Yaa jumped slightly as she felt his hands grip her ample waist and pull her into him. As if it were instinct, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Seeing you in that dress...having you this close to me."

She closed the last bit of space between her, biting her lip as he craned in. "You are the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen. You're smart, accomplished, hilarious. You are phenomenal. But there is a part of each other we haven't experienced.” He picked her up and sat her on the vanity. “And if it's okay with you, Denae, I'm tired of waiting."

She began unbuttoning his shirt. “I thought you’d never ask, baby.”, she whispered. Their lips met and the intoxicating kiss consumed them. Like a drug, their favorite drug. The slow tongue war continued as Yaa finally took Winston’s shirt off. Nothing was breaking this kiss. His hand traveled up her leg.

“Move your arm, baby.”, Yaa said between kisses. He looked at her with hooded eyes and chuckled deeply.

“That’s not my arm,love.”, he replied sensually. She stopped, mouth agape. She cut her eyes between his erect third arm resting against her inner thigh and the cocky smile and lip bite plastered on his face. This nigga finna split me open.

His hand continued its journey to her inner thighs, where he got down to nibble and kiss them with such intent and passion. He picked her up and traveled to the bed. While on the journey, Yaa bumped her head in the doorway of the bathroom. She giggled as he placed her gently on the bed. “Oh my God, Pumpkin, are you okay?! Do you need ice? Please say something.”, Winston rambled nervously. He swiftly placed her on the bed and turned on the lights to examine her head. She finally opened her mouth and laughed...hard. It could’ve been from the bump or just the fact that she was a bona fide clown. Her laugh turned into an all out cackle, prompting Winston to laugh with her.

“I’m fine, love.”, she began saying in between cackles and breaths, “I just bumped my head.If I pass out, just take me to the hospital. No questions.” The passive tone she used made it difficult for Winston to decide if she was joking or being dead serious. Either way, he appreciated how she broke the thick tension between them. The perfect icebreaker. They finally got themselves together and turned off the lights.

“I hate for such a nice dress to come off, but I wanna see what masterpiece is underneath.”, he commented. Lord, that voice. He lifted the dress over her head, where he was met with her ample cleavage being confined by a red lace bra. She freed herself of her bra and he began caressing her breasts.

“I’ve been trying to get to these since we met.”, he commented. She laughed.

“I know. You looked at them like they were water in the desert.”, she answered laughing. As if on cue, he took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around her nipple and sucking on it. His tongue traveled up to her sweet spot on her neck. Chills. Her sweet moans served as motivation for his assault of her neck.

Satisfied, he came down and began slowly peppering wet kisses on her feet and leveling up to the inside of her thighs. Shit, spot #2. He looked up to see his girlfriend’s face consumed with pleasure. She bit her lip as she looked down at him with hooded eyes. She cursed under her breath with every kiss he placed. Finally, he kissed her opening, eliciting a back arch and a drawn out “Shiiit!” from Yaa. His mouth became friends with her opening as he sucked on her bud and his tongue explore. He added two fingers as he latched onto her clit. He began pumping his fingers inside of her with a moderate pace. He alternated his sucking with kissing and licking,prompting more hushed cursing from his lover. She was unraveling. He stopped but kept his fingers inside of her. “Fuck you for teasing me like this.”, she moaned. He chuckled. She’s a mess.

“I want you around me, Denae.”, he commented as his fingers brushed up against her opening and examining her nectar. He slid his body between her legs and slid his member inside of her. Her head flew back as his girthy member went deeper inside her tight opening. He noticed her twitch as he lowered himself into her.

“Are you ok,Denae?”, he said examining her face.

“I’m not used to you yet. I’m just tight. I’ll be fine.”, she reassured. Carrie and Khalida ain’t raise no bitch. They both moaned as they began grinding in sync.

“Shit, you fit around me like a glove.”, he moaned, his voice saturated with lust. She kissed him in response.

Winston peppered wet,sloppy kisses on her neck as he rolled his hips, hitting her g-spot deep with every stroke. His pace was slow but unyielding. Her sweet moans and gasps mingled with his low grunts and occasional higher moans. The room was clouded in lust. Besides the sounds of wet skin slapping, moans, and pants, Maxwell’s “Whenever Wherever Whatever” played softly in the background.

Now straddling his lap, Yaa found herself holding back tears as her sexual appetite was being satisfied to her liking. She balanced herself with one hand rested on Winston’s bare chest and the other on the bed. She bounced on his dick as he held on tightly to her love handles. He watched with hooded lust-filled eyes as his girlfriend’s breasts bounced freely against her pace. Her bounce slowly devolved to a twerk and then a gyration as she neared her peak. She was sending him into a tizzy as she clenched tightly onto his dick. If they weren’t already in love, this moment would be when they’d fall in love. Their moans echoed in response as feedback for the other. They were both coming undone. Their rhythm became disonant as they neared the end. Winston sat up and sloppily kissed his girlfriend’s neck. Her breath hitched as they stared into each other’s eyes, both pairs stinging with tears.

“Winston,baby, you feel so good.”, Khalida uttered between her teeth and tears. Her tears and desperate moans served as Winston’s motivation to cum.

“Cum for me, baby.”, he whispered into her ear. He released a low growl; that did it for the both of them. She roared into his shoulder as the sensation of their simultaneous release overwhelmed her core. She collapsed from the sensation.

————————

Yaa and Winston found themselves physically exhausted from their lovemaking. They laid in bed in silence, reflecting on what just occurred. She laid her head on his chest as he tried detangling her locs with his fingers. He gently kissed her locs. “That was...wow. That was uh.”, Winston attempted to strike up conversation.

“Intense? I think that’s the word you’re looking for: intense.”, Yaa suggested. She looked into his eyes and kissed him.

“Yeah, intense. Literally the word I was looking for. My mind is going 25 miles a second. I can’t believe we finally did it.”

“Yours too?! This is...wild.”

“How?”

“Everything we do together feels so organic. I’m really not one to openly be a sap, but you’re so right for me. Being around you makes sense and what we just did is a feeling I’ll never get over...ever.” She interlocked her small fingers into his larger ones and kissed his knuckles. He chuckled as his free trailed between the valley of her breasts.

“I guess your cousin Daniel was right…”, Winston said lifting her chin up to meet his eyes.

“The fuck is he right about?”, she shot up staring him dead in the face. He kissed her lips.

“...I guess I am responsible for making a hard G soft.”, he flinched in anticipation of whatever assault was coming as consequence of his statement. One tickle and pillow fight later, the two found themselves out of breath once more.

“You know, Chris, to be a health nut, you in worse shape than me.”, she giggled.

“Oh, shut up and go to bed.”

OH THIS THE TAG LIST TAG LIST!

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[rkchungha]

✧ ☆⋆MGA SEASON 4 - #4040⋆☆ ✧

(ROUND 3)

✧ trouble maker - trouble maker

✧ outfit

✧ hair & makeup

✧ featuring: TEAM C(hungha) @rkars @longguork @rkjeon @danielxrk

chungha didn’t know how to feel after hearing her team members. to be honest she was feeling kind of neutral about her members thus far. then again, she wasn’t quite sure where everyone stood in relation to one another. she just knew that of the bunch, daniel was amongst the lowest in ranks as he was almost sent home last episode. if anything, he was the one to focus on.

jeon jeongguk. he was the boy that sat to her left every episode from now on. his performances had impressed her. he was a dancer and he knew how to connect his dance to the music. he was one of those that made viewers feel. if they were being ranks on their strongest skill alone, chungha figures jeongguk is one of the stronger ones. when he danced, she was kind of left in awe. if jeongguk wasn’t anything but one of the top spot she’d be surprised.

when they first introduce themselves to one another in the nova building, she shares how she felt about his performances. “i think you put a lot of emotion into your dancing. it captures attention.” which would be a plus for their group considering all of them were singers, for the most part. “i’m glad we ended up on the team together.”

they needed a little diversity on their team. dancing was fine and all but they needed to be strong in every skill. youngjae and yongguk, from her memory, sang. she remember yongguk’s because he played a ukele and she remembered thinking how adorable it was. but she wasn’t so sure if either of them danced. when they finally got around to asking each other what to do, she’ll learn but a part of her was worried that the answer would be no.

daniel was the one she hasn’t paid attention to. not because he wasn’t talented or anything but because he seemed to have a trend with his performances: he sang and played guitar. that worried her immensely. daniel seemed to stick to his guitar like it was his protector. something told her that he didn’t have much else to bring to the table if someone snatched his instruments away.

sadly, she was right.

before they got started, chungha made sure to pull daniel aside. her intentions were to make sure he was okay and to make sure his head was in the game. it could be a blow to the ego to be on the bottom of the invisible ranks that they were unaware of yet. at least there wasn’t an actual numerical ranking system. if he was on the bottom by a lot, the blow might’ve been greater -- and if he barely made it through the skin of his teeth, it may have been even more discouraging. there was a certain funk that would hang over someone after someone like that. daniel wasn’t the strongest competitor in the mgas. the last thing she needed was an emotional handicap holding him back as well.

after the quick catch-up with daniel, it was time to know her other members a bit better. it included proper introductions and what people were good at. for the most part, she had at least a vague idea with what everyone’s strongest skill was (after the episodes have aired, of course) but secondary and tertiary skills (if any) were unknown for now. they needed to lay it out on the table to at least begin to brain storm where they stood in terms of possible songs they could do.

there was clear panic on her face hearing that no one else seemed to be decent enough in dancing. her face blanched at the prospect of having to deliver a mediocre performance because her group’s skill sets didn’t match. instead of immediately panicking, they settled down to figure this out. she was the first to say that they should do a routine that isn’t difficult with choreography but just as eye catching. “everything will be okay as long as we can capture the attention of not only the viewers and the audience but the panel as well. it doesn’t have to be a crazy and impressive number. as long as we show that we have competence and can manage that along with stage presence, i think we’ll do okay.”

o.k by b1a4

she’s never heard the song before but she figures she shouldn’t count it out. “can i see the video?” she asks, mildly interested in the option. she’s not sure where they’re going to go with this but as the video plays, her disgust is clear on her face. “i don’t like this song,” she says honestly. “i think it’s cute and very catchy but i don’t think this is mga performance material at all. i feel as though we could pick another, much stronger song and still accommodate to people who can’t dance as well.” of course she wasn’t going to veto it altogether. she even added, “but if you guys like it and feel comfortable with doing it, i’m down for it.”

thankfully no one else was really too attached to the song. she may have cried if they went along with it. her relief is clear (they dodged a bullet) but they couldn’t spend so much time just flipping through songs. someone suggests troublemaker. “we’d have to tweak the choreography.” youngjae and jeongguk both suggested ideas where jeongguk starts off the song and the other start as backup and then they rotate who dances centre with chungha. it sounded like a solid idea.

before diving into the performance, they needed a leader. in the midst of verbally rationalising who would make sense as leader (asking ages, what experience everyone had, etc.), chungha was quick to voice her opinion. “before we choose, i do not want to be the leader just because i’m the eldest.” surely she’d have the natural inclination to guide the others simply because she was older but she would prefer there being a legitimate reason as to why she was chosen (if she was chosen). and as yongguk so clearly shared with his nomination of chungha, she was the eldest and deserved the respect. she’d rather it be because they were impressed by her performances thus far or because she was the only one of the pack to have actually done this before.

a part of her was unsure with being leader. it’s not as if she didn’t know what to do. she knew exactly what she’d have to do as leader but it also meant she’d assume most of the responsibility if anyone falters. it becomes less of “oh so-and-so you messed up here” and more of “ah, kim chungha, why did you let your term fall into shambles?” it was selfish but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to assume that kind of responsibility in this kind of competition. it could potentially reflect negatively. she’s sure those opinionated netizens would have a ball if she failed.

to her surprise, she ends up elected leader despite her minor opposition. jeongguk looked awfully disappointed at the fact. daniel had raised a point that he felt weird listening to jeongguk as leader when they were the same age. chungha understood, considering jeongguk was a little younger than she was and it would be weird to listen to someone younger than you. chungha steals away to go to jeongguk’s side. “hey,” she nudges him softly. “i thought you had leader potential. that’s why i voted for you.” she wonders who the other vote was if the other three voted for her. “don’t take it as a personal loss. and besides,” she smiles at him, “i could use some help getting this group ready.”

getting ready takes a majority of the week. come the time for recording and performing, she’s only mildly nervous. it’s not even for the sake of her own singing and dancing -- that she’s long since grown used to after the years of training. it’s all worry with how her team would look as a unit. while she performs, she couldn’t let any expression pass on her face (not even a grimace) that would clue that someone fucked up or someone sounded off key.

chungha had also resented the initial performance of trouble maker and made a few tweaks of her own. mostly more dances on her end so while she’s off to the side, she does something similar to what the boys do: she sensually dances. save for the dance break the boys have without her; that she’s completely off stage for. she also tweaked the background dance for the rest of the boys at the end because it required partners. so she created her own simple steps for them to follow in the back while she and youngjae closed out the song.

the space they’re in until they wait for performances is nice. they sit together as a unit and chungha offers small commentary while they watch to the groups that impress her. out of the two teams proceeded them, chungha is more worried about team b. the boys was an excellent song to do. she would have kicked herself about the missed opportunity if it weren’t for the fact that her team weren’t dancers anyways and probably would have done much worse with that choreography. it was bad enough that the others struggled with troublemaker which was more of a charisma performance than an actual dance anyways.

something she kept in mind (and told the other boys) was to play it up. amp up the charisma and the sexiness. cop an extra feel, accentuate movements with a wink or a kiss. the song was all about charisma which was why there was a lack of harder dancing. chungha even took her own advice during her performance and played up her role as hot arm candy, swaying her hips or moving in a way that drew attention.

she made sure her voice was clear. stronger, in the very least, than the actual artist during her own stage performance in the song. it may have been the classics round but she sure as hell made sure not to sound like she was a classic. she projected her voice so she was clearly heard in the harmony of the chorus every time. it was a very male dominant song. it was sad how this was a duo but the man took up most of the attention the entire song. so with her parts where she was the focus of attention, she makes damn sure she does them well.

her voice isn’t as soft as the original troublemaker female. so her words are far less breathy when she raps and sings. she’s always had a strong vocal presence. it makes it that much easier for her to dance and sing without sounding pitchy. for herself, the song was in a range that was doable. it was almost easy because she sang in the same few notes the entire length of the song (save for the end).

towards the end of the song, just before the dance break, she mirrors the moves jeongguk does as she sings. it was much better than just standing there and singing when she was capable of dancing and holding her pitch. walking off to the side she was able to view the product of her teaching the team and how well they handled the break before she needed to come back in. she will say they were a charismatic group. it worked in their favour. and youngjae bodied those adlibs. she was actually proud.

while youngjae took the foreground to dance at the end of the sound, she danced as well in the back. it was her own freestyle. nothing crazy, just something similar to youngjae until he came up to her in the end. he grabbed her face. chungha picked up her left hand (the one opposite and hidden from the stage and cameras) to hold his face and place two fingers between their lips. they ended the song “kissing”, just like the performers did back then. breaking away she smiled, quickly hugging youngjae before bouncing off stage to the rest of the group.

“after this we should get dinner. to celebrate for a great performance no matter how we rank,” she tells them on the way back to the viewing room. “i’m really proud of all of you -- and daniel! you did so great!” just managing to pull it together was a huge relief. what they started with versus what they ended with was a feat; an accomplishment that deserved to be celebrated even if one of them ended up going home.

and, as a good leader should, she even promised to pay for them all.