#half of my fuckin job is replying to emails

[drabbles-mc]

Far From Over (4)

Gilly Lopez x OC Josephine Costa

Chapter Index

Warnings: 18+, angst, language, smoking

Word Count: 5k

A/N: The way I didn't think I was going to get so viscerally attached to these two and yet I truly fucking have lmao. There is a little bit of a time jump between the last fic and this one. The vibe is a little different because of it, but I still love it so much. I have some big things planned for the next part or two of this and I'm 👀👀👀 excited

General Mayans Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @paintballkid711 @queenbeered @kelpies-shed @gemini0410 @mijagif @amorestevens @garbinge @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @littlekittymeow @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @nessamc @withmyteeth @crowfootwrites @beardburnsupersoldiers @winchestershiresauce @frattsparty @fanfic-n-tabulous @justazzi @darqchilddaydreamz @danzer8705 @camelia35 @cositapreciosa @narcolini (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

“We don’t have Peña on our side anymore,” EZ said matter-of-factly from his seat beside Marcus during Templo, “but we can find out if the new mayor is just as amenable as she was.”

“Fuckin’ doubt it,” Bishop piped up with a shake of his head. He wasn’t looking at anyone, just staring down at the cigarette he had between his fingers. The smoke trailing off it was suddenly more interesting than everything else in the room.

EZ didn’t pay any mind to his cynicism. “Guess we’ll find out.” He turned and looked at Gilly. “Go see what Josie can tell you about her new boss.”

Up until that moment, Gilly had only been half paying attention to everything that was being said. So much of everything lately had just felt like running around in circles and getting nothing done that he started to tune things out sometimes. There was no MC equivalent to, “This meeting could’ve been an email,” but at this point Gilly was determined to come up with one.

Suffice to say that the mention of Josie threw him for a loop. “Why?”

“So we can find out what we’re working with,” EZ replied without missing a beat.

Gilly shook his head. “Nah, nah I’m not doing that. I told her months ago that I wouldn’t be asking her for club shit.”

Angel chuckled and shook his head. “Why the fuck would you tell her that?”

“Because I’m not gonna fuckin’ ask her,” Gilly snapped, harsher than he should’ve, harsher than he meant to.

Marcus finally weighed in. “You are now.” He saw the tension growing in Gilly’s shoulders. “EZ’s right—club needs to know what we have at our disposal. Antonia was good with us and Galindo. We need to know who our new mayor is in good with, if she’s in good with anyone.”

“What if Josie doesn’t know shit?” Gilly asked, desperately looking for a way out of this.

“We’ll cross that bridge if we get to it,” EZ said.

“Don’t go alone.” Marcus’s gaze drifted from Gilly to Bishop. “Primo, keep him company, huh?”

Bishop knew better than to ask why. And as much as he wanted to argue, he knew better than to do that too. Still, he wasn’t going to pretend to be happy about it. “Fine,” he grit out.

“I’ll tag along too,” Coco piped up, something akin to amusement in his eyes.

Marcus’s brows furrowed. “Really think that this is a three-man job?”

Coco shrugged, oozing nonchalance as he lit up a cigarette. “Impartial third party.” He let out a puff of smoke. “Only one out of the three of us that hasn’t fucked someone in the mayor’s office,” he tried to finish the sentence without laughing and failed.

It got scattered chuckles from almost everyone around the table. Everyone except for Bishop and Gilly. Marcus gave a small shake of his head but he clearly didn’t deem it something that was worth a discussion or an argument. If Coco wanted to go just to be nosey and annoy Gilly, that was his own prerogative. The gavel sounded and everyone was dismissed out. Gilly shot up out of his seat much faster than usual, barreling his way to the door and away from everyone else before he said something that he’d end up regretting.

Coco materialized by him while he was leaning back against his bike. Gilly was pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tight. Tension was practically radiating off him, his shoulders looking like they were about to snap clean off his body.

“It’s not gonna be that bad,” Coco said as he dropped the butt of his cigarette to the ground and put it out with the heel of his boot.

“Fuck you,” Gilly said.

Coco laughed. “Why you so—”

“I haven’t seen her in like two months, man.” Gilly shook his head, finally looking at Coco. “And I made it real fuckin’ clear last time that I didn’t wanna fucking see her again.”

“That’s on you.”

“It’s not fucking—”

“Shut up,” Coco said with a laugh. “Fuckin’ dramatic.”

Gilly tried to be angry but ended up laughing instead. “I hate you.”

Coco was laughing and shaking his head. When he saw Bishop finally walking over to the two of them he said, “Come on, let’s go see your ex.”

 When they made it to the mayor’s office, Coco hung back just outside the front doors. He was close enough to watch it all go down but not so close that it felt like there was a whole charter rolling up into the place. It’d been a while since anyone from the club had stopped by the mayor’s office, so it was already going to be a bit much.

Bishop and Gilly made their way up the steps to the building. Neither of them were looking at each other, and they weren’t even really looking at the building. Both sets of eyes were glued to the stairs passing beneath their boots.

“Liked it better when it was your fuckin’ ex,” Gilly half-mumbled.

Bishop was annoyed by the comment but he still found himself chuckling at it. Misery loves company. He didn’t say anything else in response though, opting just to shake his head as they made it to the top of the stairs. They each pulled one of the double doors open, walking in side-by-side. They didn’t do it with the intent to be intimidating or cause a scene, but it had that effect regardless.

The young woman working at the reception desk was practically shaking as she sat on the other side of the counter and looked up at Gilly. “C-can I help you?”

Gilly knew that the look of utter annoyance on his face wasn’t helping to make him any less intimidating to the poor girl, but he couldn’t really do much about it at this point. “Looking for Josephine? Costa?”

She nodded, clearing her throat. “Right. Right. What’s it in regards to, exactly?”

“Revenue opportunities for the town,” Bishop spoke up when Gilly was taking too long.

It was Gilly’s turn to awkwardly clear his throat. “She’ll know what it’s about.”

The girl looked back and forth between the two men in front of her a couple times before finally getting up out of her seat. “I’ll go grab her, then. Wait…wait right here, please.”

Gilly watched the girl scurry off to go and find Josie. He wondered what happened to the last person they had working the front desk. If she’d still been there, Gilly never would’ve even had to explain himself. That was half the reason he hesitated—it’d been so long since anyone at the mayor’s office asked him why he was there. The reason was always known and implied when he used to show up. The days of lunch dates and stopping by just because he could and wanted to check in were long gone now.

Josie caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and looked up to see the girl standing in front of her. Josie had always thought she was wound just a little tight, but she looked more skittish than usual.

She pulled her hands away from her keyboard. “All good, Lena?”

She nodded, not that it was very convincing. “Um, yea. I mean, maybe? There’s um,” she glanced over her shoulder even though Gilly and Bishop were a door and a couple hallways away, “there are a couple people here to see you? Couple guys. Men.”

Josie chuckled, confusion on her face. “Did these men say—”

“They said you’d know what it’s about?” she almost squeaked from the nerves.

Josie couldn't help the sigh she let out. “These men have leather vests on?”

Lena nodded. “Yea. The one guy had a lot of tattoos. Other one, uh, had, uh, had a beard.” It crossed her mind as she rambled that she hadn’t asked for their names. Hopefully her vague descriptions were enough.

She gave a slow nod. “Alright.” She stood up from her seat, grabbing and putting on her blazer as she did. “I’ll talk to them.”

“Do you need me to call someone? The police department is right—”

“No,” Josie cut her off as gently as she could as she walked out from the other side of her desk, “it’s fine. Really. They’re…they’re not here to cause a problem.” She didn’t know if that was true or not but it was the closest thing to the truth that she had—it wasn’t as though she could claim that they were harmless.

Lena was visibly hesitant but she finally nodded. “Okay.”

The two of them walked back towards the main lobby of the building where Gilly and Bishop were waiting. Josie wanted to have something quick and reassuring to tell the girl who was anxiously keeping stride with her, but she knew that it wasn’t going to matter what she said. Nothing was going to be comforting enough. The only thing that was going to help the poor girl was the two men leaving.

“Hey,” Josie said as casually as she could when she reached the lobby. Her heart was in her throat as she looked at Gilly, but she didn’t want to let it show. She’d never been the best at keeping her thoughts and feelings to herself—even if she didn’t say something, she almost always wore it on her face. “Something I can do for you gentlemen?” she asked as she looked back and forth between Bishop and Gilly.

Gilly felt like he’d been knocked back a few steps. He could hardly remember the last time that Josie used her work voice on him. The last time was back when they had first met at all. The first few times Gilly had been tasked with lingering around the office while Bishop and Taza met with Antonia to try and work things out. He always lingered in the lobby, looking suspicious as hell and making plenty of people uncomfortable. At that point, Josie wasn’t the direct assistant to the mayor—she was the one working the front desk.

Before he could think too much about what now seemed like a different lifetime, Gilly got brought back to the present by Bishop saying, “Hoping to steal a couple minutes of your time.”

Josie watched Bishop, seeing the smile on his face but also seeing the way that it didn’t reach his eyes. She could feel how much neither of them wanted to be there. She was about to offer up a response when Gilly finally got it together enough to say something.

“It won’t be long,” he said, still staring at Josie because he couldn’t bring himself to look at anything else. Eight weeks wasn’t that long in the grand scheme of things, but apparently it was just long enough. She looked different than the last time he saw her—her hair was chopped to her shoulders, she’d gotten another nose piercing, a myriad of other small details that Gilly didn’t think he was the type of guy to notice now all seemed like flashing neon signs. Still, he tried to focus as he said, “Just got a couple questions.”

Josie shrugged. “Alright, yea, I got a few minutes.” She motioned for them to follow her. “Come with me.”

“I’ll wait here,” Bishop offered up, praying that Gilly wasn’t going to want to argue in front of everyone passing through the lobby. He just didn’t want to be subjected to whatever their entire interaction was going to turn out to be.

Josie shrugged, unbothered. “Suit yourself.” She missed the glare that Gilly shot Bishop’s way as the two of them started to make their way out of the lobby. She had him follow her down a hallway before she pushed the door open to an empty conference room. “Come on, no one will bother us in here.” She pulled the door shut behind the two of them before turning to face Gilly. “So…what’s up?”

“I know I said I wasn’t gonna ask you for shit,” Gilly started, not exactly rambling but not calm either, “and I fuckin’ told them that but they still made me—”

“Hey,” Josie cut him off, “it’s…it’s fine.”

Gilly’s whole face contorted in surprise at how genuine she sounded when she said that. He watched her as she sat on the edge of the table, resting her hands in her lap. It took him longer than it should’ve to say, “What?”

She let out a sad laugh. “I never said I wouldn’t help you. That was your rule.”

“Figured it was fuckin’ implied since…you know.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugged, “guess I kind of fuckin’ owe you, right?”

Gilly chuckled. “Kind of.”

“So?” she asked after a couple seconds of silence. “What’s the ask?”

“The new mayor.”

She sighed, chin dropping and tucking down towards her chest. “Fuck.”

“I know.”

She lifted her head to look at him again. “What about her?”

“What’s her deal?”

Josie laughed. “Her deal? You mean do I think that she’ll work with the fucking MC?”

“If she doesn’t wanna work with us, I don’t really give a shit,” Gilly told her honestly. “I need to know who she is working with, though.”

Josie let out a puff of air. She knew that things were always coated in more shades of grey than she could’ve ever imagined when it came to local politics and the club. The cartel periodically came through to get their pound of flesh, too, making sure that even though they operated underground for the most part, that Antonia still knew full-well that they were around and expecting certain things from her. Looking back, Josie was honestly surprised that Peña actually made it to a point where she could just leave, rather than a stress-induced heart attack taking her out.

A lot of that, the mess with the mayor and the club and the cartel, had all been in Josie’s peripheral. She knew bits and pieces, and Antonia loosened up around her considerably once she and Gilly became a unit rather than two separate people. But there was still so much that Josie didn’t know. There was a lot that Peña didn’t tell her, even more that Gilly didn’t tell her. Maybe she should’ve seen this coming, but she’d been too busy worrying about everything else.

“As far as I know,” she said after thinking on it for a long while, “she is new and shiny…and clean.”

Gilly wasn’t sure if her hesitation was because she was lying, or because she really didn’t want to tell him the truth. “You really think so?”

“I do.” She sighed. “And I know it’s not great for you guys but I’d really fucking love for her to stay that way.”

“It’s not up to me, Jos.”

She shrugged. “Fine, fuck it. Send Bishop back here and I’ll talk to him.”

Gilly wasn’t quick enough to hide the smirk on his face. “Not up to him either.” He saw the way that Josie’s raised eyebrows asked the question that her mouth didn’t. “Alvarez is president now.”

She laughed, “Oh, shit. Dad came home, huh?” She shook her head. “Bish VP, then?”

It hit her in that moment that she couldn’t remember the last time she and Gilly actually talked about the club. They broke up, then there was the shoot-out, then there was the wedding. And sure, the shoot-out had been at the clubhouse, but it wasn’t an environment that was conducive to catching up about the changes in the MC hierarchy. Not like Gilly would’ve wanted to talk to her about it anyway. She was surprised that he was even saying anything now. Maybe he wasn’t thinking too much about what he was doing.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “EZ is VP.”

Josie nearly choked on her own spit. “Ezekiel?” She blinked once, long and slow as she gave another shake of her head. “Wasn’t he just a prospect like, two months ago?”

Gilly laughed, knowing that she was exaggerating but not by much. “Yea. Fuckin’ insane.”

There was a small stretch of silence, and as the seconds ticked by, Josie could watch the way that Gilly’s facial expression and body language started to change. The reality of the club, the mayor, the two of them currently standing in the empty conference room, all slowly began to wash over him. The fleeting moments of ease between them were on their way out. Everything was a mess, it felt like. Nothing was the way it was supposed to be.

Clearing his throat, his nose twitched slightly as he sniffed. “But yea, the mayor. Think we could—”

“Do I think you guys could buy her? Scare her into whatever it is that you need now?” she cut him off with the questions. She was angry, annoyed, but she knew that the club was going to do whatever they wanted regardless of how much she tried to keep her boss out of it. Bordertown politics. She sighed. “Yea, fucking, fucking probably.”

He couldn’t really blame her for her exasperation, but it wasn’t as though he was thrilled about having to be standing in front of her asking her all of this. It was quite literally one of the last things in the world that he wanted to be doing. And yet.

“The club is in some major shit, Jos,” Gilly said with a sigh. “With all the shit still going on with the border, and with the fucking cartels, we—”

“I’m sure you’ve got a laundry list of reasons, Gilly. You guys always do.” She could see that he was fighting the urge to let this become the blowout it could so easily be between them. She was doing all she could to keep her tongue under control. She wasn’t afraid to have it out with him, never had been, but she didn’t want to do it at work. “If she doesn’t?”

“What?”

She sighed. “If she doesn’t agree to work with you?”

He shrugged. “Gotta make it clear that she can’t go and work with anyone else either.”

She felt a knot starting to grow in the back of her throat. She didn’t know what the specifics of that would be. She didn’t want to know, either, but she knew that they wouldn’t be good. She wondered how much grief Antonia had saved herself just because of her past relationship with Bishop. Then she wondered if maybe that would’ve made it worse.

Gilly could see all the emotions that were passing over Josie’s face. “Told you I didn’t want to come to you with all this shit.”

“I thought your problem was with your other charters?”

“Them too.”

She shook her head, letting out a hollow laugh. “You guys really love a fucking mess, huh?”

“And you don’t?”

“I’m good at making them, doesn’t mean I fuckin’ enjoy them.” She sighed. “This one is yours, though. Your club’s. Keep it that way and keep me the fuck out of it.”

“What happened to you owing me?” It would’ve been a more successful joke if the stakes had been different.

“You suddenly looking for reasons to have to come and see me?”

That was something that he didn’t have a good rebuttal for. He knew that if he let this conversation keep going, it was going to disintegrate into something much meaner than the exhaustion that was between them now. Neither of them had ever shied away from a good knock-down, drag-out, but this was the closest to civil they’d been with each other in a long time. He didn’t want to be the one to ruin it.

“Alright. I’ll let the guys know what you said.”

She nodded. “You have fun with that.” Pushing herself up from where she was leaning back against the table, she walked to the door and opened it, motioning for Gilly to walk through. “You first.”

They were silent as they walked back to the main lobby. Lena looked up from her computer the second that she heard the heels of Josie’s boots clicking against the floor. She looked a little more relieved at the sight of the two of them, but not quite relieved enough.

“I’m gonna take my fifteen,” Josie told her. “And I’ll walk these guys out.”

Lena looked skeptical, but if Josie was comfortable, she was going to try her best to feel the same. “Okay.”

Josie fell into stride next to Bishop, allowing Gilly to walk in front of the two of them. “So,” she said as Gilly held the door open for both of them, “did you just miss your old stomping grounds that much that you decided to come back?”

Bishop chuckled dryly. “Nothing like that.” He saw it on Josie’s face that she was about to fire off another smart remark, so he said, “Was actually sent to make sure that you two didn’t fuckin’ strangle each other.”

Josie had to laugh at that. “That’s fair.”

When the three of them reached the bottom of the steps, they found Coco standing by their bikes. He was leaning back against his, cigarette in one hand, his phone in the other. He was squinting against the sun as he looked down at the screen, swiping in a way that could’ve meant that he was playing a game, or snooping around on someone’s accounts on something. Josie didn’t know which one it was but for her own sanity she chose to believe it was the former.

“Hey, Coco,” she spoke up as they all lingered by the parked motorcycles.

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice. “Shit, hey.”

It’d been a long time since Josie got a good look at Coco. Even before she and Gilly had broken up, Coco had been mostly MIA. She always tried to ask, but she was always met with vague answers or clear anger. Neither of those options did her any good. He’d been at the clubhouse the night of the shoot-out, but there had been so much other shit going on that she hadn’t been focused on him at all. Whatever he had been going through, though, he looked better now.

“How’ve you been?” she asked.

He shrugged, a tiny lift at the end of his mouth. “Still fuckin’ here.”

She laughed, nodding. “That’s true.”

Part of her had expected to be met with some sort of animosity. Or at least for Coco to be cold towards her because of what she had put Gilly through. It wasn’t what she wanted, but she wouldn’t have been able to blame him if that’s how he was choosing to handle it. At the end of the day, she knew that Gilly was one of Coco’s best friends. And even if Gilly had been the one in the wrong, which he wasn’t this time, his friends in the MC would’ve sided with him. But when she stopped and gave it a second thought, she figured that maybe she wasn’t giving Coco enough credit. There were bigger things to be angry about. Plus Coco had always been better at leaving the past in the past and pushing forward than the rest of them.

He nodded at her. “Hair looks good.”

She reached up, threading her fingers through it in an impulsive response to his comment. The last time he’d seen her, her hair had been almost down to the middle of her back. “Thanks.” She noticed that while she’d gone and chopped hers off, Coco’s was longer than it’d ever been. “Yours too—I like the braids.”

“Not gonna lie,” he took one more drag off his smoke before putting it out on the sidewalk, “was hopin’ for more of a brawl or something with you two.” He gestured between her and Gilly with a laugh.

She laughed and shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint.”

His smile grew a little wider. “Maybe next time.” He turned and looked at Gilly and Bishop. “We out?”

Bishop nodded immediately, wanting to spend as little time at the mayor’s office as possible. “Yea, we are.”

Gilly found himself hesitating. “I’ll catch up.”

All three of the others turned and looked at him with varying levels of confusion. For a moment Josie wondered if once the guys left the very tense and delicate balance that she and Gilly had maintained for the last short stint of time was all going to come crumbling down. Judging by the look on Coco’s face, she wasn’t the only one who was having that very thought. Still, neither of the men were going to try and stick around longer or argue, so they said quick goodbye’s to Josie before hopping on their bikes and taking off.

“Should I be worried?” she asked, trying to make a joke but a shred of her unease still shone through.

Gilly shook his head. “Nah.”

She pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of her blazer. She took one out and already had it between her lips when she paused and looked over at him. “Sorry, do you care if I…?” the question came out slightly muffled as she spoke around the cigarette perched between her lips.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, something reminiscent of a laugh, and shook his head. “I don’t give a fuck, Jos.”

She smiled as she lit it. She took a drag before saying, “I just know you said you were trying to quit.” She paused for a beat, waiting for him to say whatever it was that he wanted to say. When he didn’t jump right into anything, she asked, “You good?”

He nodded. “Yea.” He pried his eyes from the sidewalk and met her gaze. “Saw your sister.”

She could’ve sworn her heart stopped in her chest for a moment. There it was. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure and not show the nerves she was so clearly feeling. “When was that?”

He shrugged. “Couple weeks after the wedding.”

She frowned in thought, taking another drag off her cigarette. She wasn’t sure what she needed more in that moment, the nicotine or the few seconds of distraction. “I, um, I don’t really know what you’re expecting me to say to that, Gilly,” she admitted with an anxious laugh.

“She still pissed at you?” he asked.

If they’d been having the discussion a few months before, Josie would’ve assumed that Gilly was just trying to put salt in her wounds because he could. But it didn’t feel like that now. It felt like he was genuinely wondering.

“She’s not thrilled, but I mean…”

“Yea, she was, she was fuckin’ mad.”

“I know—I was there when the mad started.”

“I thought you were full of shit, by the way,” he told her.

“What?”

“When you said you were gonna tell them. I figured you were just full of shit and saying whatever to, you know…”

“Get what I needed?” she filled in the blanks for him, sounding hurt, but not quite angry.

“Yea.”

“Well, like I said,” she tapped the ash from the end of her smoke, “I owe you.”

He wanted it to feel better, hearing her say that. He wanted some kind of gratification out of it, but he had none. This was why he didn’t want to drag her back into any of the shit going on with the club. He should’ve known it was going to happen anyway, but he was really hoping. He wanted to be done with everything that happened with them—he didn’t want it to be some sword hanging over their heads forever. He didn’t know how to make it all go away though.

Unable to handle the silence, the weight of the conversation that they were about to tumble into, Josie switched tracks. “Who should I call?”

He frowned in confusion. “What?”

“If I hear anything about the mayor, one way or the other—who should I call?” She didn’t want to say it out loud, didn’t want to turn that stone over and reveal whatever mess was beneath it, but Gilly hadn’t ever unblocked her number.

He almost reached for his phone in the pocket of his kutte. But as he looked at her, watched her drop the butt of her cigarette onto the sidewalk to grind it out before tossing it in the trash, he stopped himself. Instead, he shoved his hand into his pocket to fish out his keys. “Call EZ. This is his and Alvarez’s bullshit to sort now.”

She frowned for a moment before recovering. Nodding, she said, “Okay.” There was another long beat of silence between them, and Josie could feel how he had more things to say. She also knew that he wasn’t going to. She wasn’t sure if she was better or worse off for that. “I gotta, you know…” she trailed off as she motioned back over her shoulder.

“Right. Go make sure your receptionist didn’t call SWAT on us or some shit,” he joked, his light tone not quite matching the look in his eyes.

“I asked her very nicely not to,” Josie joked right back.

She wanted to hug him, offer him some kind of something for everything, but she knew that she couldn’t. She also knew that the times of going months not seeing each other were over. Whether it was going to mend things or re-shatter them completely would remain to be seen. She wasn’t sure what she was looking to happen, or what she wanted. She just hoped it would be less uncomfortable and angry than things had been. Today had been a start—they got through seeing each other without descending into a screaming match. Maybe there really was something to giving things time.

“Stay safe,” she finally said, not going for a hug or a handshake, instead just taking starting her retreat towards the stairs.

Gilly nodded, watching her go. “Thanks.”

#mayans mc #mayans fx #mayansmc #mayans mc fanfic #gilly lopez x oc #gilly lopez #gilly lopez fanfiction #oc josie #oc josephine costa #far from over #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[lordeemailarchive]

Summer's end

(19/08/2022) (Solar Institute Bulletin No. 18) (From an Undisclosed Paradise)

Keira onset for Atonement, 2007

Hello darlings, I write to you from summer’s end. I can’t believe it’s almost gone. Normally in these months, my whole life is lived in deference to the season. I wake up and the weather decides what I’ll do. I spend long days outside. Swims come first, and everything else in my calendar arranges itself around them. This year, the summer’s been like a movie playing in the background. I’ve kept working pretty much since tour ended, spending long days in a dark room, my brain buzzing like a fluorescent tube, eyes watering when I step back into the light. Girls with flushed cheeks walk through my neighbourhood on their way to dinner; parallel universe projections in pretty dresses. Sounds weird, and feels it a bit too, I suppose. Have a week now to swim and chill out before I see some of you again for the makeup shows. I’m looking out at the water as I write this.

Can you believe the album came out a year ago today?!!! What a beautiful blur. I can honestly say I don’t think I’ve ever grown so much in a single year. In honour of its first trip round the sun, I wanted to share the final (!!!!!!!!!!!!!😥🥺😩) video with you, for OCEANIC FEELING.

It’s bittersweet to be coming to the end of this video journey, but amazing too, because this one is possibly my FAVOURITE video I’ve ever, ever made. Who you see in this video is who I truly am, or who I want to be— open, laid bare, water glittering on my skin, speaking directly to you, nothing to hide or prove, just me. The person with me is my other half and best mate, my brother Angelo. Born on the same day five years apart, we’ve always shared a super close bond. I knew by putting him in the video, I’d be showing myself exactly as I am. Can’t be anyone else when that kid’s around. The end is super special too, an end to the video story as much as to this chapter — my community of loved ones gathered to see me off, a moment of ceremony. It was an honour to wear Simone Rocha’s raffia dresses for this. I kept thinking on the afternoon we shot it that I was marrying myself. Sounds crazy but that’s how it felt. Punctuating this period of intense self reflection with an image that pretty much splits me apart. It’s sort of the story of my life: I never know where I’m going, just that I have to go there. I’m eternally grateful to you for sticking around to see where I end up.

Some beautiful behind the scenes pics by Ophelia. Love the one of my co-director Joel and I staring at the monitor after filming the boat shot, which we did only once.

What else? We have these makeup shows coming up. I’m psyched to be getting the band back together, literally AND figuratively, lol!! Playing around with setlist at the moment — if you’re coming, wanna reply to this email with a song request? Something you genuinely wanna hear?? Let’s have fun! I’m bringing my sweet sweet friend Jim-E Stack to open these shows (he writes and produces songs for ur favs incl. Caroline Polachek, Charli XCX, Empress Of and Bon Iver). Pls welcome him warmly!!!! On the subject of shows, I’m super psyched to announce a show in Rio de Janeiro, supported by the inimitable Japanese Breakfast!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’ve never performed in Rio before, and this show falls right around my birthday. Cannot think of a more amazing birthday location. Presale starts on August 23rd at 10am BRT, code is strangeairlines always, thank you for giving me the best job in the world, we will rage. TICKETS HERE Other notable sides to this summer— Fruit. Just eat some fruit. Easy to forget this true fuckin miracle of nature. I feel almost psychedelic rapture eating summer fruit. Bite into a peach today! Dev played a warmup show the other night at Baby’s, in advance of opening for Harry this month at Madison Square Garden. The show was so beautiful, I can’t believe how lucky we are to exist at the same time as Blood Orange, but he’d doing this thing where every night, the set is recorded, printed onto CDs, and made available to buy at the merch desk. Such a sick idea. Bobby ripped the audio for me and I’ve been listening to it the last couple days, such a warm document, totally alive, the songs better than you remembered, if that’s possible. I go dumb for hearing a friend laugh softly into a microphone basically!!! If you’re going to these Harry shows, I IMPLORE you to go early for Blood Orange. Having a relationship with Dev’s music will enrich your life. I’ll probably go at least thrice.

Renell sent me this amazing skirt. I am the coolest girl in the world in this very cool skirt. It’s called the Sporty Mini, it may not be on their website right now but everything she does is cool. Here’s the stack of books I brought on holiday.

Thinking woman’s flower. Can’t stop listening to this.

Urs truly trying on a vintage Vivienne Westwood shirt the other day

Love you so much. Can’t wait to see you again soon. L X0000

PS. More incredible photos from behind the scenes of Atonement that feel very goth and end of summer to me…

(source: received this email)

[hansolmates]

cherry contact |🍒

summary: jihoon has access to all versions of you - your credit score, shopping habits, work emails, even your terrible tinder history. pairing; fbi agent!jihoon x civilian!reader (f) genre/warnings; fluff, crack, it’s really just that “your fbi agent” meme that caused everyone 8 years ago to put tape over their webcams, questionable viewing habits for an fbi agent, language, dick talk, mentions of sex, jihoon has feelings and is confused, he is a PINER, tw—sexual harassment  w/c; 3.3k  a/n; i can’t believe i finished this😭😭 part of meraki’s job collaboration and i’ve been dying to do a svt collab since the dawn of time and finally today’s the day! it’s been a hot moment since i’ve written for jihoon, glad i managed to get those svt writing muscles going! a huge thank you to @merakiiverse​ and @woozisnoots​ for putting this together. readers pls definitely check back on the masterlist linked above to see more of the other talented cwc writers and their rendition of the job prompt!

if you like this fic please consider giving it a like n’share!🤓🖥🤓🖥

“Kevin, 32, works at Kodak,” you scroll further to the description, “I love being tied up and need a dominatrix, have swing at home—no.” Swipe right. 

“Lisa, 24, works at Infinity Dance Studio,” you definitely are weak for athletic ladies, “My hobbies include cuticle care and online shopping! Looking for a sugar daddy or mommy that can spoil me rotten—definitely can’t afford that kind of relationship.” Swipe right. 

“Hansol, 26, works in an art museum,” sounds promising, you love art, “wait, why are all his pictures of him holding fish? Is he inside a fish? Who the heck finds that attractive?” Swipe right. 

“Billiam, 31, works in finance. Needs a bratty baby girl who can triangle,” you grimace, “what is with these guys and stating their kinks from the get-go? Gotta take a girl out to dinner first, and the fuck is a triangle?” 

You swore off Tinder since the dark ages, also known as senior year of college. However you’re in a particular slump, thirst-trapped between needing some serious dick and a committed relationship. You’d prefer the latter, but after a stressful day at work and the fact that it’s the ass crack o’dawn, you’ll take what you can get. 

“Bye Billiam,” you sing-song into your phone, moving to swipe right. 

Except you accidentally drop your phone between your sheets, and when you pick it up you accidentally swipe left. 

“Fuck fuck fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget!” you cry out into oblivion. You’re so glad you live alone at the very least, it stops you from looking like a crazy person when you talk your potential sexipades out. 

Billiam has Super-liked you! 

“No. Nononono—” you bludgeon your head against your pillow, frowning when your phone opens up a chat for you and Billiam. 

Billiam: hi can u check if my dick is too small

You: please, don’t send me a picture of your dick. 

Billiam is typing… 

You: for fuck’s sake—

“—that’s disgusting,” Jihoon curses, and immediately sends out the screenshot for sexual harassment. 

“What’s disgusting?” Mingyu chimes, swiveling in his spinny chair from his side of the room.

“Don’t look,” Jihoon gags, reaching for a bottle of Coca-Cola from the mini-fridge. “You’ll throw up your fried chicken.” 

“My person is a twenty-one year old nympho who also happens to be a incel,” Mingyu chastises to his screen, closing up the eighth tab of BBC porn he’s seen this week, “he doesn’t know how well he’s avoiding the FBI’s eyes,” Mingyu shakes his head, “so I’ve seen some pretty bad shit, but I’ll take your word for it.” 

“No,” he echoes your name like you’ve done the most heinous thing in the world, “no, no! Why would you swipe left on Jackson? You’re way out of his league! He literally looks like he has a pea-sized brain!” 

“He does look like he has half a brain cell,” your voice reverberates through his noise-cancelling headphones, unknowingly agreeing to Jihoon’s passionate throw of anger, “but I’m deprived and desperate, so!” 

It’s like you can hear his sentiments exactly. 

“Literally, you could have any person you want,” Jihoon chastises through his desktop, glaring heavily at your bedroom camera, “you’re wasting your time with these losers!” 

Oblivious, you let yourself dangle across the bed. The camera isn’t the best quality, but Jihoon watches intently at the rise and fall of your chest as you attempt to fall into a fitful sleep. 

“Some yell at screens for soccer,” Minghao says to the air from his cubicle, “some yell for Starcraft, but Jihoon yells for Tinder like it’s an Olympic sport.” 

“Jihoonie,” Mingyu rolls around his chair, resting a long arm over the backrest, “do you have a crush on your civilian?” 

Jihoon immediately swivels around his hair, meeting the amused eyes of Mingyu. “No,” he says sharply, whipping around to glare at his screen. 

He glares harder the longer Mingyu’s simple question sinks in. He doesn’t have a crush on you, he likes you. Jihoon swallows his sigh, wondering why you would want to go as low as Tinder to look for a potential tryst. From your profile, you’re absolutely beautiful and intelligent. You have simple pleasures that match his—a hot cup of tea right after dark, snuggling under a weighted blanket while watching anime, and sleeping in on Sundays.

Unlike him, you don’t see the world through half a dozen lenses and a plethora of information right at your fingertips. No, you’re lucky. 

“Hey can you grab me my water bottle?” Mingyu asks over his shoulder. 

Jihoon thinks nothing of it, leaving his post for the thirty seconds it takes to get to the mini-fridge and grab Mingyu’s Hydroflask. 

“You got a call,” Mingyu says when he plops the bottle on his desk, indicating to the red blinker on Jihoon’s computer. 

It isn’t until he puts on his headphones does he take care to see why his blinker is going off. 

He’s getting an incoming call. From you. 

You’ve been waiting on the line for about two minutes. He lets two additional minutes breeze by because Jihoon is internally screaming. You’re calling again. There’s a fire blazing in his brain, his fingers hot as he twitches against the spacebar of his keyboard. 

From the monitor he can see that you’ve given up on sleep, hands pawing through your drawer so you can take a final swipe at your magenta-tinted lip balm before nesting yourself in the sheets. You’re kicking around as if you don’t have work at 9AM, smacking your lips to apply the shiny salve while you wait for your call to be picked up. 

“Why is my civilian calling me,” it isn’t a question, it’s a thinly veiled indication that Jihoon is ready to fight whoever compromised him like this. 

Mingyu and Minghao fail to answer. That’s okay, he isn’t opposed to killing both if neither fess up. 

It would be so easy for him to ignore the call, or redirect it to another part of the office. Yet he aches to talk to you, for real talk to you. As if you’re just two regular plain-old human beings with normal lives, and as if he didn’t know every nook and cranny about your daily routine and your favorite breakfast foods.

Call it pride, call it confidence, but Jihoon’s been pretty good at games and he hopes prior experience helps him get over this hurdle. Slipping on his headset, he accepts the call and answers in a controlled voice, “This is the local hotline for sexual harassment reports, are you here to report a case?” 

Okay, so this is the closest thing he can get to having a full-fledged conversation with you, so he’ll take it. 

“Hi,” you mumble your name into the phone, and he nearly disintegrates right then and there. It’s different when he can hear your voice directly in his ears, definitively reaching out to him as opposed to being a fly on the wall, “I received an email that a report was sent out for my previous chat as sexual harassment, but I didn’t send out a report.” 

“Yes,” Jihoon replies smoothly, tapping his nails against his thighs, “it’s a new update.” 

“Oh, well thank you,” you reply, and Jihoon sees from the camera that you’re staring at your phone in curiosity. 

“It’s my job,” he says, and the words hold more weight than you think, “are you okay?” 

“Is it also your job to ask how I’m doing?” 

He smiles wryly, and he looks up at the monitor to see how you’ve considerably relaxed on your bed. Your legs dangle in the air, and you’re hugging a mango plushie with all the love in the world. “Not really, but I figured I’d ask. I don’t think I’d be able to recover from a dick that looks like an unhinged toenail.” 

Your laugh flutters in his ears, and his stomach is flip-flopping with more than just his shitty ramen lunch. Your face curls and wrinkles into happiness at the lewd joke, and you rest your chin on your stuffed fruit. 

“I’m okay,” you finally answer, “it’s not the first time I’ve seen subpar dick. But thank you… what’s your name?” 

“Uji,” he says, a codename that he considers as precious as his actual name, “feel free to call or text this number if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable and in distress.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night Uji.” 

“Good night.” 

That wasn’t so bad, Jihoon thinks as he hangs up the phone. He dims the monitors to let you freshen up and get ready for bed, as per your schedule. After tonight, he hopes he can be sated with his curiosity of you. Maybe he needs to follow your plans and open up a dating account or something, he feels that he’s starting to get a little too engrossed in your presence. 

The waning starts today. 

You: help, i’m feeling uncomfortable and in distress

Uji: what is it this time? 

You: i can’t decide which weighted blanket i should get. Will more weight make me feel more comforted or will i accidentally suffocate myself in my sleep? 

The waning of you did not start that night, in fact it never began. Jihoon’s been on edge for weeks, simultaneously teetering between what he calls the high-school equivalent of the talking stage and an absolute catastrophe. 

It started as an accident, you meant to call your friend’s number for cooking help but since the last call before your friends was his, you called Jihoon instead. To your surprise, he knew how to roll out homemade pasta without a pasta machine. You kept him on the call for the entirety of dinner preparation, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride when your pasta turned out perfect and you were happy and full for the entire night. 

Weeks later, and you’ve been texting each other for shits and giggles. At first you chalk up your insistence that he’s basically Human Google and has the answers to seemingly anything and everything, but over time it seems that you enjoy your daily interactions with him. Whether it be a simple phone call asking how to unclog your drain or a screenshot comparing two different KitchenAids, he’s at your disposal. 

The burner phone he’s been holding as of late is on silent, but he’s able to pick it up immediately. It’s almost intuition, coupled with the way he notices whenever you seem in a pickle and you need to contact him. However he does not have a chance to formulate a reply, as you’re now calling him.

“Couldn’t wait?” he speaks as if you’re familiar with each other, as if you’re friends. Jihoon longs for that so much, he would love to be upgraded to someone other than the IT guy you text for funsies. 

“Yes,” you say, voice laced with determination, “I’m deciding on whether to just like or Super-Like this guy on Light a Flame.” 

Jihoon deflates a little, but steels himself. You’d never want to go on a date with the IT guy, it seems that you enjoy the anonymity of your recent communications. Your conversations are definitely meme-worthy. 

“Who is it?” 

“His name’s Lee Jihoon, 25, works in the FBI.” 

He chokes on his coffee, precious beans from Argentina, and the liquid is flying across his keyboard. 

Pulling up your phone view, it confirms the worst. In a moment of Weakness with a capital W, Jihoon had caved and made a Light a Flame profile the other night. It’s an app reserved for more serious relationships, which means you’ve finally graduated from Tinder. 

“Are you okay?” he wants to cry when he hears you on the other line, genuinely panicked. “Do you need me to send you his profile?” 

“N-no,” he sputters, rubbing a rough napkin from McDonalds over his dripping chin. He thought he privated his profile last week after he realized there was nothing he could do to let loose of you. Turns out that isn’t the case, because you’re currently pursuing his profile and actually kinda-sorta considering him for a potentially serious relationship. 

“C’mon, Uji,” you tease lightly, “you always seem to know what to do. This is your area of expertise after all, since you work for that kind of department.” 

What should he do, scratch that, what can he do? It’s a complete violation of policy to be fraternizing with his civilian life. Sure, there has been episodes of civilians and agents meeting each other, but only minor violations that both parties forgot about shortly after. He’s so far deep at this point, he can risk being relocated or losing his civilian—losing you. 

“Do you think he really works in the FBI?” you say when he doesn’t reply immediately, “he’s really cute, though. Totally looks like my style, and he likes My Hero as well! C’mon, I just need for you to check as to whether he’s a homicidal maniac or a compulsive liar.” 

Liar. He’s a liar. 

That self-accusation prompts him to slump in defeat, and he mumbles in the phone, “I don’t think he’s worth it. I’d say pass.” 

“Hey, Coups has seniority,” Soonyoung pats Jihoon thoughtfully on the back with one hand, and grilling meat with the other. Barbeque always lifted up Jihoon’s spirits. “Why don’t you give it a chance and meet her for real? And then he can give me your super cute civilian and then he can give my shitty civilian to some newbie.” 

“And if it doesn’t work out, I just lose her,” Jihoon’s eyes are watering, most likely from the excess smoke around their grill, but it does align with his current state of sadness. It was the right thing to do, he thinks over and over as he replays that phonecall from last night. “Hoshi, if you were in my situation, would you have done the same?” 

“Like I said–” Soonyoung—codename Hoshi, waves his tongs around like a magic wand, “your civilian is super cute, so I would be making a beeline to her house and—” 

“Okay, don’t finish that sentence,” you’re his civilian, not Soonyoung’s. 

“Cheer up, c’mon,” Soonyoung’s filling his bowl with all sorts of delicious things, charred vegetables, mixed rice, and pork belly. Jihoon’s favorite is pork belly, so eventually he relents with a timid smile, taking out his chopsticks to appease his friend, “there it is, Uji. Food always makes things better—” 

“Uji?” 

Both off-duty agents freeze, hearing the familiar ting of your voice as it glares holes into Jihoon’s back. It’s you. Since they’re off the clock, he would have no idea you’d be here. Usually that’s fine, it’s early morning and it’s pretty unlikely that you’d run into your civilian considering you’re supposed to know every second of their schedule. It seems that tonight you’ve varied from the norm. 

“Uh, hey?” 

His back is still facing you, and he’s side eying Soonyoung in a panic. He’s wearing a cap and a nondescript hoodie, feeling like a shlub as your familiar voice pings back at him with excitement. 

“I knew I recognized your voice!” you’re unfazed, definitely not realizing the distress the two men are currently going through. “What a small world, I didn’t think we’d ever actually run into each other!” 

“Talk to her, you ass!” Soonyoung hisses, and immediately swivels his chair so he has no choice but to face you.

You’re so, so pretty. Prettier in person, prettier than any crappy 480p screen can give him. You’re definitely not dressed for barbeque, in fact you look like you’re just passing by to pick up a to-go order after a night out. You’re dressed in a silky looking velvet off-the-shoulder top, the cherry red color practically melting onto your skin. The black skirt paired with it has Jihoon salivating for more than just barbeque, and he has no idea how to look away. 

The smile is wiped clean off your face however, and you recognize him almost immediately. “Jihoon?” 

This should be a moment of joy for him, after all it’s far too late to go back at this point. You look a little hurt, your face twisted in confusion as you put two and two together. 

Soonyoung excuses himself to go to the bathroom, although neither party seems to care. The lame, over-distended EDM music that plays over the cacophony of the barbeque place seems to melt in the atmosphere, much like how the smoke hits the fan, and it’s just you two in the room. Jihoon gestures a pale hand to Soonyoung’s seat, and you take a beat to reluctantly sit yourself down. 

You clutch your skirt with both hands, thumbs ringing against the pleats and ironing them out. “So, you’re also Jihoon?” your voice is tiny, small and sad. Jihoon feels liquid guilt inject in his veins, and he wishes he could reach out and pat your shoulder, hold your hand, something. However no matter how much he knows you, he’s a stranger to you. “Why did you lie to me?” 

“It’s… complicated,” you shake your head at his pathetic reply, and Jihoon hates this. He feels like he’s drowning in smoke and mirrors and the cloying scent of pork belly is now sticking to all his senses, immobilizing him. 

With a cross of your arms, you scoff, “It’s always complicated.” 

“Please don’t think I said those things the other night because I don’t want to date you,” Jihoon tumbles the words out like a hamster wheel, wanting to speed up to your pace as fast as he can, “I want to, I really do, but it’s—”

“Complicated.” 

“Yeah.” 

The two of you sit in silence, letting the noise back into your little bubble. Jihoon feels his stare on you, akin to how a teacher looks over your shoulder during an exam. He robotically eats rice, grain after grain as he lets you have your look. 

The slope of his nose, the cotton smooth skin, the lean yet strong stature. You can’t believe he matches the Light a Flame profile perfectly. Other than the frumpy clothes, he matches the man on your phone, a simple picture in a black suit that reminds you strangely of the movie Kingsman. You mentally roll through what you remember from his profile, his hobbies, his likes and dislikes, his occupation—

“Wait,” you pause, your brows knitting together, “so the FBI thing on your profile… is not a joke?” 

Jihoon forgets to chew his last bite, and he swallows a whole two centimeters of meat down his throat. Ouch. 

“It’s—” 

“Complicated.” 

The adjective has a whole new meaning now. It’s crazy how in so little words, so much is exchanged between you two. You might not be realizing it, but Jihoon’s so attuned to you he feels like the pick to your guitar, strumming and humming along your chords like it’s second nature. It really isn’t fair, but anticipating your reactions helps greatly. 

“There’s things you’re not telling me.” 

“Right.” 

“And things you can’t tell me,” you add. 

“Yes.” 

“Then what are some things you can tell me?” 

“I’d… rather not here,” Jihoon’s eyes dart around the room, looking for all the pinholes and micro cams attached to the restaurant. By the bonsai, under the table, in the koi tank, “I need to work out some paperwork before anything.” 

“Paperwork?” 

Jihoon nods mutely, but he looks at you with a litany of emotions in his eyes you’re reeling back in your stool. Why do you feel like this man knows you from a simple five-minute interaction? And why do you feel like you can trust this man with your life? 

“Okay,” you finally say. 

“Really? Okay?” you think he’s cute, the way his eyes perk up and his back straightens. 

“Really.” 

Silence fills the space once more. This time however, it feels more at ease. 

“The only reason why I’m saying yes,” you pretend to nonchalantly play with your fingertips, a manicure reserved for a date you’ve long abandoned for this evening in favor of a new flame, “is because I think FBI agents are kinda hot.” 

A flush blooms on Jihoon’s cheeks, and you can’t help but giggle. 

#jihoon x reader #woozi x reader #caratwritersclub #kwritersworldnet #svtcreations #jihoon fic #woozi fic #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #jihoon scenarios #woozi scenarios

[smashboxgirl26]

vengeance / chapter 13: a new face

chapter 12: catching | chapter 14: apologies

vengeance masterlist

Bakugou’s mind rushed over the details that the Commissioner had mentioned the day before. The main issue was that the League was still active - despite them being imprisoned for over five years at that point. How they were still active was the question. And the only theory at the moment was that there was someone from the LOV who hadn’t been captured in the final battles - someone who’d been working on the sidelines enough that they were able to escape from prosecution easily.

That meant that they were probably very dangerous, and that was enough to send Bakugou back into his office to stare out the window again to calm his breathing.

The pit of anxiety in his stomach had been growing, a lot more now, and had been since you’d mentioned to him that you’d met Midoriya. He’d almost thought that his breaking point had been when he’d stepped into Ito’s room and saw those pictures of you everywhere, but it wasn’t.

It was the fact that he couldn’t work on the Ito case.

But it was that and every other single fucking thing that was piling up in his life. It seemed like his usual ranges of anger couldn’t solve these problems as easily as they usually did, and that was incredibly mentally taxing on him - trying to keep up with everything in the whirlwind that currently was his mind.

He hadn’t felt this way since high school - and the many thoughts that came with those feelings were threatening to flood back in as well.

Work.

Shut up and focus on the work.

Deal with the other shit later.

Y/N.

Work for her.

Becoming the Number One Hero.

Don’t lose sight of yourself and drown in the process.

It didn’t work as well as he thought it would, but Bakugou sat down on his desk chair to start on the case nevertheless.

He’d been emailed some of the details of the case when the Commissioner announced to the police that he’d be working on it with them. It wasn’t the highly classified details - of course - but more so an overview of the case as well as the starting point for him to grasp what the situation exactly was.

______

League of Villains: OVERVIEW

March 23, 2221; 8:09 AM

The criminals that were once banded together in the name of the “League of Villains”, LOV for short, together have had many incidents in recent times of their incarceration. Most are in reference to each other, or previous attacks, which leads the prison guards and employees to believe that this is all the form of something that they all collectively understand.

By incidents, it is implied that attacks have been frequent by the LOV alumnus: all of them have related to others; this has been confirmed by either their methods of attack, or what they have said to officers on the scene about the attack

No prisoners have currently escaped through these endeavors, however both prisoners and prison staff have been wounded. A majority of these injuries have been minor, coming in the form of minor scratches, bruises, and other small inflictions. No deaths have been recorded, but the severity of the wounds is increasing.

The resulting actions of the incidents described above were taken solely by the prison staff themselves with a slight oversight of the police: increased security staff around all LOV prisoners - whether they have made an attempt or not - along with solitary for those who did make an attempt.

Interviews have not yet been held, due to the fact that it is too dangerous for most of the prisoners to be taken out of their cells without the proper amount of protection for the questioner (as more guards have been allocated to watch all the LOV prisoners), meaning that more support is needed in order to properly question them

______

Bakugou was holding his breath the entire time. The more he read, the more he was convinced that there was, in fact, something going on beneath the surface and that the police and prison staff were one-hundred percent correct about their assumptions.

When they’d first been arrested, they’d definitely fought their incarcerations and made attempts to escape. But they’d mellowed out after a while, and even if they were in there for life, their sentences would be more bearable if they played along with the rules that were laid out before them.

But for them to start causing messes now? After five years of mostly good behavior?

It didn’t make sense to Bakugou, unless the theory was correct.

Whether the Director knew all the details was unknown, but that meant that his opinion was completely wrong about the whole situation, and that he was only trying to sweep it under the rug with Bakugou in charge of the investigation.

That fact was burning in Bakugou’s mind as he glanced away from his screen to stare up at the ceiling while running his fingers through his hair. He needed to start working on this investigation quickly, or the Director would try and sweep the whole thing under the rug and there would be no funding allocated towards it.

Bakugou let out a sigh before glancing down to the bottom of the email, and finding the number to the precinct that was heading up the entire investigation and the name of the lead investigator.

…

Bakugou stepped into the low-ceiling, dimly lit room with higher expectations for the precinct that was heading up one of the most important cases containing the League of Villains. But it actually made sense that a dingy precinct was chosen instead of one that had more resources available to them; it was because the Director didn’t want the investigation to go anywhere. Well unfortunately for him, he’d assigned Katsuki to the case, and he wasn’t one to let things go with nothing.

Most of the officers were lounging around in their chairs with a coffee or donut in hand, scrolling on their phones or mindlessly typing something up on their computer. He even thought he saw one watching porn in the far corner of the room.

He grimaced at the sight, but took a few more steps forward to the front desk where he looked over the counter at the secretary who was currently busy on his phone.

“Uhm, excuse me,” Bakugou grumbled out.

“Hmm?” the secretary looked up halfheartedly, taking a small glance before doubling back at Bakugou with wide eyes and standing up from his chair.

“D-Dynamight. I mean, ahem, Mr. Dynamight,” he said loud enough for the other officers to hear.

Bakugou watched as they all scrambled about in their spots and immediately went to typing on their computers with haste as they gave him the side-eye. Bakugou rolled his eyes before turning back to the almost quivering secretary with annoyance, most of it having to do with how the precinct was running.

“We weren’t e-expecting you here till tomorrow, Sir,” the secretary managed out under Bakugou’s scrutinizing glare. “Detective Masaki’s been busy trying to get the base information but-”

“I know that already,” Bakugou spat in response. “It was all in the long ass email he sent me. Tell him to come out of his office so we can discuss the case in person.”

The secretary’s eyes narrowed slightly as they tilted their head and gave Bakugou a confused look, “Sir, I’m not sure of you’re aware but Detective Masaki is-”

“Haruma, it’s okay,” a female voice interrupted from the side, and Bakugou looked up from the desk in front of him to meet the face of the voice who was walking up to the desk from the back.

“Mr. Dynamite, the name’s Detective Masaki. I’ll be working on the League of Villains case with you,” the lady said, sticking her hand out for Bakugou to shake.

Bakugou didn’t even look surprised at the fact that the detective he was working with was actually a woman. He was more focused on the fact that she was much more professional than the other extras who just seemed to be there to hang around.

At least one person in this god forsaken place actually gives a fuck about their job.

“You too,” he said simply before reaching out to shake her hand firmly.

He took the opportunity to observe her features under his heavy glare. She was tall and slender, with a bronzed complexion that matched her wide golden brown eyes. Strands of curly hair were sticking out of the bun she’d pinned to the back of her head, and that was one of his many indicators that she wasn’t, in fact, Japanese.

“Let’s go talk in my office,” she gestured behind her, before walking in front of Bakugou to lead him to the area it was located.

She held the door open for him, and he noticed as she carefully locked the door behind them and checked out of its windows quickly before pulling up blind. Once she’d finally sat herself in her chair on the other side of the desk, Bakugou observed her stoic expression before opening his mouth to speak.

“You’re not Japanese.”

She gave an amused smile, “I’m half Japanese, but I think that was obvious enough from my appearance. I’m from America, actually. But it’s nice to finally meet you Mr. Dynamight.”

“Call me Bakugou,” he grunted back. “It seems like we’ll be working together for a while so honorifcs aren’t really necessary.”

“Then you could call me Kana instead of my last name. If you remember, we go by first names in America.”

“I fuckin’ knew that,” he replied boredly.

“Right..” she replied.

The air between them was awkward, to say the least. They clearly were both headstrong people who wouldn’t take opinions from others. It was going to be an exhausting investigation.

“Well then, let’s get down to it,” Kana said as she crossed her hands together over the table. “I’m actually glad you came today, it means we have more time before the Director decides to pull the plug.”

“So you know about his stupid plan too then, right?” Bakugou asked as he leaned back in his chair. “He doesn’t want the investigation to go anywhere.”

“I think it was made pretty obvious when he decided to assign the case here, of all places,” Kana replied with a chuckle. “But even then, I think he forgot I was assigned here.”

Bakugou had been taking the time to observe his surroundings, and even though it was littered with coffee cups, papers, and files, he noticed the couple of plaques that hung on the wall at the back.

High honors, commended leadership, outstanding excellence…

“What the hell are you doing in a dingy place like this? As far as I can tell none of the fuckers outside have actually put effort into their jobs,” Bakugou asked with an eyebrow raised.

“I was demoted,” Kana sighed. “The Commission’s Director thought I was sniffing around in his business more than I needed to so he dumped me here. I went from being one of the best detectives in Japan to being forgotten.”

“That sucks balls.”

“Yeah,” she huffed a breath out of her nose. “But anyways, that doesn’t matter right now. You’ve read the email, right?”

“Obviously,” Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“So then it’s obvious that the next step would be to start the interviews with the villains. We weren’t able to do them before because we needed more oversight and there wasn’t enough protection to keep the prisoners secure. But now that you’re here it’ll be a lot easier.”

“I don’t think we should start with their interviews first,” Bakugou thought out loud. “It’s not like they’ll give up any information willingly, and we don’t know if the security of the prison would let us see them more than one time if they don’t give us anything useful the first time.”

“What do you suggest then?” Kana asked with an eyebrow raised and skepticism in her voice.

Bakugou at least understood where it was coming from though - this was her area of expertise. He was someone who was not really involved in these types of cases, or at least he wasn’t up until now.

“I’d say we start with the prison and security staff. You haven’t had proper interviews with them yet, right?” Bakugou stared off in thought.

“No,” Kana shook her head. “The only thing we’ve gotten so far are the files they gave us in order to request increasing the security around the villains and to put the ones who were attempting to escape in solitary. There were some basic facts in there but there wasn’t anything specific written down - just the whole thing about them acting weird and how they were talking about something going on outside of the prison.”

“Then I’d say that’s our place to start. If we have those interviews on record then we can use them to help keep the villains from lying to us, since they couldn’t deny anything that was previously said to the prison staff,” Bakugou affirmed with a nod.

“Fine then,” Kana replied with a huff. “I’ll arrange for us to start the interviews tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there,” Bakugou replied tiredly.

He’d rather be working with Kirishima, and Monoma (of all people) on your case than work with this Kana bitch.

…

You waved at Camie as she drove down the street, leaving you on the steps in front of your apartment. The smile you’d plastered on faded, and you felt as your face settled into a hard frown.

It’d been hard trying to keep yourself smiley and peppy all day, and now that you were finally alone it came out easier than you’d expected. Staring blankly at the road seemed to take the edge of your emotions out of your head for a second, and because they’d been running rampant in your head since the previous night it felt like a break.

But that meant the return to reality was much, much worse.

There was some creepy guy who’d been stalking you, which became public knowledge, and Camie had informed you that your boyfriend, the person who was supposed to trust you more than anyone else in the world, had been hiding his emotions from you.

And now that you were thinking about it, it hadn’t even started because of the whole stalker case where Katsuki felt he needed to “protect” you by trying to keep you from the truth of his feelings. The first time you’d noticed it was when you mentioned meeting Izuku, but who knew how long he’d been hiding himself before that!

The pressure of your thoughts manifested itself into a headache, and you could no longer bear standing outside under the sun - even if it helped calm your nerves a little with the light breeze that’d started up - so you headed inside with a huff.

The day had been a weird one.

You constantly felt like you were being watched, only to turn your shoulder and see that there was no one there. And with you being so hyperactive with your surroundings and still not noticing anything abnormal, you were just beginning to think you were paranoid or going insane. But who could blame you, how else were you supposed to handle the news of being stalked?

You closed the door behind you silently, double checking that you’d locked it before finally sauntering off to the kitchen to grab something to eat. All the worrying was making you feel sick and you’d lost your appetite long ago, but you hadn’t eaten since morning and you needed something before you could take a pill to appease the throbbing headache that made the anxiety infinitely worse.

After finally settling yourself down, you plopped yourself onto the couch with the intention of watching some random movie to get your mind off of everything that was swirling around. But a notification from your email stopped you in your tracks before you could even grab the remote.

And when you opened it and read its contents, your heart almost stopped.

The Tokyo University Medical School regrets to inform you that your scholarship has been revoked.

──────────────

sorry this one took some time loll, but idk if it'll get much better since school's starting soon

just ask if you'd like to be tagged :)

tag list:

@spicy-therapist-mom @triviajeongin @iliketobullydeku @nuclearnoir @lilyblossomblooms2020 @all-in-the-fandoms @no-post-ghost @intense-socks

#midoriya x reader x bakugou #yandere midoriya #izuku midoriya #midoriya x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #yandere #mha #bnha #yandere izuku #mha fanfiction #bnha fic #bnha bakugou katsuki #bnha izuku #mha x reader #bnha x reader #vengeance #keke.writes

[ciggylungz]

Music to my ears

Music to my ears- 1.7k

Blurb night: (Request: What abt like something in the studio? Like studio sex 🥵 your header inspired me lol)

 ------

Y/n always loved when Harry brought her to the studio with him, seeing her man all in his grove and in his element made her happy. She couldn’t deny how sexy he looked when he was strumming on the guitar or sitting with a clenched jaw, drumming his fingers while tweaking some lyrics to make it perfect.

Harry was all smiles when he heard the studio door open, his beautiful girlfriend making her way into the room holding some water bottles for him and the band, and some nice food- remembering to skip any item with dairy in it since it can clog up his throat with phlegm which wouldn’t be too good while trying to belt out another billboard hit.

“There she is! Hey darlin’” Harry craned his neck to peck her as she walked by, he was seated in a office chair going over some sheet music Mitch had written that belonged to the instrumental section of one of his works in progress and Y/n gave him a good once over decided he looked especially hot in his black slacks and wrinkled rolling stones shirt. “I brought treats! The BLT for Mitch, Cesar salad hold the crotons for Sara with a side of soup, two blueberry muffins and a black tea for Jeff and a sparkling lemon water with a vegan chicken noodle soup for my Harry- with of course- the breads you requested with it my dear.”

Y/n handed out the goodies to the group of artists, giving Harry his food with a kiss on his cheek perching herself on the table in front of him to snag a few bites of his food every so often as she talked with the group listing to some of the music they’d already got down dancing in her spot a little bit enjoying the behind the scenes of his upcoming album. “Sound’s good, I think you got another hit in the makin’ here baby. ‘m proud of yeh bub!” Y/n ran her fingers through Harry’s hair, the man giving her a content coo and grip on her thigh in return rubbing his thumb on the denim covered skin lovingly.

“Thank ya’, couldn’t do it without these guys or you my love. You guys make me great, would be nothin’ without ya’” his sweetness got a chorus of adored ‘awes’ which the slightly arrogant artist bathed in dramatically waving his hands and pretending to be bashful earning him some chuckles from everyone in the room.

 -------

It was nearing 10 in the evening when Mitch finally decided to call it a night, everyone else besides Harry and Y/n had left over the last few hours. Each trickling out with some yawns and good bidding's as they decided to make their way home but Harry was focused on his music, and Y/n knew once he was this much in a grove, he wasn’t going to pack up till he felt it was time. in the meantime Y/n was sprawled out on one of the couches in the room, her left hand absentmindedly running over the suede pushing the material back and fourth in a satisfying pattern while scrolling through her phone texting a few friends and replying to some emails in between playing random games on the device.

Harry was deep into his work, tongue tucked between his teeth while his knee bounced slightly to the melody playing in his head. He was currently trying to put the finishing touches on medicine , a rather proactive song that he was still on the fence about releasing or keeping a concert special. His inspiration behind it was his journey through sexuality, romance and the fast pace lust that he’s experienced as a star during his formative years. Of course his Y/n was a big inspiration on that track, their sexual endeavors prominent in his mind while coming up with the lyrics.

His mind was filled with photographic memories of the times they did various naughty things. The foursome in brazil where they both explored bisexuality, having Harry, Y/n and then another couple join them, the hand full of times they’d had sex in public. In his car, in an alley, in bathroom at the VMA’s. on the roof, in a pool, and even the once Y/n went down on him in his mothers back garden while she ran to the shop.  He thought of the sloppy kisses, the spitting, cum eating, rim jobs and pussy eating. It was all so dirty and god he knew this song would drive people mad. So being the cheeky bastard he is, he made two final decisions about the piece of work right then and there.

1-      It would be an exclusive concert song

2-      He wanted to have some special audio in it

 Harry knew the idea was daring, likely to turn heads and cause mothers of concert goers to place a hand over their heart with a raised eyebrow but this was his music and he never had an issue with controversial art.

The man then looked to his side, seeing his love in her natural state. Relaxed, lips slightly pursed with her eyelashes batting every few seconds as she focused on the screen. Somehow even when she was lying in a lazy position, hair in a messy bun with a small stain from her tea on the bottom of her shirt, she still looked insanely beautiful.

“Love?” y/n shifted her eyes towards her boyfriend when she heard the pet name, turning onto her side to give him her full attention. “What’s up, H?” she rested her chin on her fist, blowing a few stray hairs out of her eyes. “How would you feel about helpin’ me out with this song?”

Harry gave her a bit of a suggestive taunt of his brows, the girl tilting her head slightly. “Sure, what do yeh have in mind, bub?” Y/n was quick to her feet walking towards him to peer down at the notebook full of lyrics, yet her attention was soon focused on the sensation of being tugged into his lap and the feeling of a rather firm lump pressing into her bum. Her head turned to look at her now smirking boyfriend, pursing her lips slightly in question. “Well, the songs a bit alt to what I usually write…going to keep it off the album make it exclusive but I think I want some background audio of us…making love princess.”

To be clear, Y/n wasn’t a prude. She wasn’t shy about her sexuality, she actually felt very empowered by how confident she was about her sex life and Harry found it exceptionally sexy to be with a woman who was open and not shy at all about trying new things, and this was definitely a new one for her to consider.

He gave her a moment to mull it over, seeing her head sway slightly while she weighed the offer before she gave a shrug and a nod to her boyfriend. “Sure, why not? Gonna be music layered on it right? So it’s not full blown balls smacking into ass?” her question made the man snort, nodding his head. “Yup, gonna layer the instrumental over it. Hoping to isolate the vocals of the moaning to mesh into the music then my singing. I think it could sound fuckin’ excellent and well I get to fuck yeh, so I think it’s a win win hmm?” his hands migrated to her tits, giving them a firm squeeze as his lips pressed into the back of her neck. His touches achieved his goal of sending a shiver through his girl, her spine tingling and hips starting to squirm as he sponged open mouth kisses from the nape of her neck to each shoulder.

“Yea…yea lets do it.” Her words were breathier, his touch putting her under his spell instantly. Lust hung in the air while he kept his grip on her his free hand used to turn on the mic in the sound booth before starting the recording and pushing them both in the padded room.

“god, you’re a doll lettin’ me fuck yeh for my track. I love you so much baby..” his words were as rushed as his frantic hands tugging their clothes off. Hers were prying the buttons of his trousers undone while he ridded her of her bra and started on her pants their mouths crashing together in a sloppy, needy dirty kiss. One that left the lower half of their faces shiny and their teeth slightly clenched from knocking them together in the heat of their movements.

“I love you more, jesus Haz, please hurry up need you in me.” Y/n worked on shoving her panties to the side, Harry hoisting her leg up to have her angled just right to sink his cock into. These were the moments he praised whoever invented birth control, nothing beats getting to spontaneously fuck his girl without having to worry about finding a condom.

Gasps, moans and whines filled the booth. The pleasured noises bouncing off the foam glued to the walls, the insulation amplifying their noises as Harry pounded himself inside Y/n relentlessly, his cock forcibly spreading her inner walls stimulating the deepest parts of her making her pour out a river of beautiful moans he couldn’t wait to mesh into the song. He did little to contain his own groans, deciding if they were prominent in the recording he’d match them with the bass so the deep tones complimented each other.

“ ‘m gonna cum”  

The string of words every guy loves to hear from the woman they are pleasuring, it boosts their ego and gives them an extra shot of stamina to push her over the edge satisfying her fully before he lets himself go.

When the tightening of her cunt gripped onto his cock, sucking him in further happened the best moans of the session were let out. Harmonious perfectly pitched moans spilling from her mouth, his joining hers in a duet soon after as his balls gave everything they had inside of her. the pair were a sticky mess, but it didn’t matter to them they both were still in the orgasmic haze complimented with the rush of voyeurism.

“Jesus baby, I think we just secured a grammy.”

#harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles concept #harry styles x yn #harry styles x reader #harry styles au #harry styles request #harry styles

[yslkook]

#onboarding (1)

#corporate

summary: seokjin delivers some news to you that you were not ready to receive. or, jeon jungkook joins the company and you’re suddenly facing a part of your past that you hadn’t really wanted to.

word count: 1701

warnings: cursing, parental death

***

7:47 AM. Like clockwork, you always arrive in the parking lot at exactly 7:47 AM. It gives you enough time to brew yourself coffee in the lounge, set up your desk exactly the way you want it, and check your emails quickly.

It’s a ritual that you refuse to let go of, even after four years. You’ve been at the same company for the last four years, in the same position. You work in your company’s research and development organization, a group with thousands of individuals globally.

You are only a speck in the machine that was capitalism. As long as they were paying you, you didn’t mind. You had loans, bills, and your grandma to take care of.

Too bad they weren’t paying you enough. You had given nearly half a decade of your blood, sweat, tears, and time to this company and they had hardly raised your pay, hadn’t given you a promotion and had only just given you a portion of the bonus you deserved.

Without you, your boss and his boss would be six feet under and it’s a fact you never failed to complain to Seokjin about.

Which is what you were currently doing in the lounge.

Seokjin is your closest friend, outside of work and in work. Quite possibly, he’s your only friend. You had graduated in the same year from university, with the same major, the only difference was that he had finished graduate school and you hadn’t. 

Seokjin is an associate director in the regulatory area within the company. You work closely with his team and his peers on projects. Regulatory and clinical science goes hand in hand- they’re often the people who tell you and your teams to take it down a notch when you get too excited about something that may not be feasible.

You call him a stickler, and he tells you that your head is in the clouds. It’s all in good fun.

You were three rankings below Seokjin. It was something that you tried your best not to get upset about- you both had started at the same time and he has risen far faster than you had within the company. While you were stagnant. That might be in part due to your management. But still, you tried your best to remain happy for your closest friend. You can be happy for him and still wish death upon the antiquated patriarchal expectations that still thrived in capitalist culture, after all.

11:58 AM. You ping Seokjin, asking if he wants to have lunch with you so that you’re spared the annoyance of eating at your desk. Or even worse, of eating with your direct boss. 

Jin agrees quickly and you meet him at the top of the stairs to head down to the cafeteria together.

He stays in the cafeteria for a little longer than you- he ran into a few acquaintances and is chatting with them. You don’t wait up for him, instead paying for your food and finding a table to sit at.

You scroll on your phone for a few minutes, adjusting your glasses on the bridge of your nose as you wait for him to join you. He’s always been more keen than you to converse with people at work when he didn’t need to. It’s something he chastised you about frequently, about how you refused to network with the people around you.

You would always reply- “They can get to know me through my work. I’m not gonna blow air up their asses just so these fuckin’ airheads can feel good about themselves.”

He’d only look at you with that look, the look that stated that you’ve aged him a thousand years with one interaction. 

“Hey,” Seokjin says, sliding into his seat across from you, “I’m so hungry.”

“Surprised you didn’t bring lunch today,” You observe after you chew some rice and chicken.

“I forgot it at home,” He says sheepishly, “I meal prepped yesterday. God, now I want my actual lunch and not this.”

“Careful, someone might hear you and get upset.”

“Oh, I didn’t know how concerned you were over lunch today,” Seokjin scoffs.

“They might get upset that they don’t have Jin’s seal of approval.”

“They have Jin’s seal of approval, but my actual lunch does, too-”

“Don’t refer to yourself in the third person, weirdo,” You roll your eyes.

You both eat in silence for a few minutes, the call of hunger too intense to ignore. The food is good- the cafeteria at your company has been known for its tasty hot food and plentiful options. 

“Do you remember that kid from college? Jeon Jungkook?” Seokjin asks after a few minutes.

“Who?” You reply instantly, without baring the name a second thought.

The name sounds very familiar, and suddenly you recall where you know the name from. He was a sweet, smart kid. Maybe a little naive, but smart nonetheless. 

“Really? Your memory is that shitty?” Seokjin rolls his eyes, “He was your mentee in grad school, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember him. I was only his mentee for like seven months, that hardly counts. Before I left, I mean,” You murmur, picking at your food.

Jin notices your immediate change in demeanor, the way your face falls slightly at the mention of graduate school. You always get like this when talking about college in general, but Jin can’t blame you. He’s been trying to get you to open up about it, even though it had been nearly six years since you had to leave school abruptly.

He knows that there are layers of scar tissue below the surface. But he doesn’t know if you’re ready to face all of it.

“Jeon is starting here tomorrow. In regulatory,” Jin says breezily.

“You gonna be the kid’s boss?” You ask after a bite of chicken.

“Not directly. Namjoon will be, so you’ll be seeing him around often,” Jin says, “Think of it like a blast from the past.”

“Yeah,” You mutter, “That’s a blast from the past, alright.”

***

You feel unsettled the rest of the day, knowing that a sudden, unwelcome intrusion is about to become routine. Sudden change does not bode well with you and that’s a fact you’re willing to admit.

Jeon Jungkook.

You resist memories of him, of sitting with him in your favorite coffee shop for your biweekly mentoring sessions, of school, of classes, presentations, studying in the library, studying at home, home, home, home. You resist all of them, resisting the urge to succumb to any of it.

You can’t blame Jin for springing this on you. You know he wants you to try to move on. But you’ve been stuck. You’ve always been stuck. For five years, all you’ve done is be stuck.

All you’ve done is be running in place, going nowhere, with the memory of your father’s death haunting you behind your eyelids. 

It’s been five years, and somehow you’ve been living as a ghost for all of those years.

It doesn’t matter. Even if Jeon Jungkook was the representation of everything you had unsuccessfully run away from, it doesn’t matter.

***

Cold fury washes over you when you finally learn two days later that Jeon Jungkook is a fresh graduate who somehow landed a job that was two positions higher than you.

Sure, he had actually completed graduate school. He has the fuckin’ degree to prove his worth. And what do you have? Loans from a program you hadn’t even completed, a boss who seems to hate every fiber of your being, and shoulder pains. Lots and lots of shoulder pains.

You could scream. In fact you want to. Jin had avoided telling you what he was coming into the company as, knowing it would only incense you to this degree.

At the moment, you want to throttle Jin, too. You want to throttle every and any man who works at this company who had dared stepped on you in an attempt to gain the spotlight for themselves.

Someday, you’ll get back at them. Someday, you’ll be their superior and you’ll make them regret it. But today is not that day.

You dread running into Jeon Jungkook. You are so unbelievably envious of him, for being four or five years younger than you and securing his spot here at the company when you were still struggling. Namjoon had lots of connections, it was part of the reason that Jin had fought so hard to bring him into the company. Namjoon and Jin have the same boss and often work together. Truthfully, you work with Namjoon more than you work with Jin.

Namjoon had lots of connections, meaning that Jungkook would, too. 

When you finally do run into Jeon Jungkook, it’s by complete chance. You had been passing the regulatory area of your floor, since that’s where the printer was closest to. And you needed the walk, your muscles were screaming for it.

He’s standing tall, outside of Namjoon’s office as they both chat quietly amongst themselves. Namjoon suddenly excuses himself and disappears around the corner for a minute, and you wince, debating whether you should turn around or continue walking. Before you can turn your heel and avoid Jeon Jungkook, he turns his head and meets your eyes with a surprised look on his face.

You bite back your bark- “What? Are you surprised someone like me works here?”

But you reel it in.

He calls your name with a wave and you know you’re trapped. You give him a crisp smile and approach him warily, tightening your hold on the folders in your arms.

Jeon Jungkook looks exactly the same, and yet he looks worlds different.

“I didn’t know you worked here!” He chirps, “It’s been so long, how are you?”

“Yeah. Been here for four years. Five year anniversary is soon,” You reply, voice even and struggling to keep venom out of it, “Good. I’m good.”

Before he can ask you anymore questions, before you can see his bright, bunny smile dim with your cold response, you mutter an excuse and turn your heel to walk away from him.

You’ll just find a printer somewhere else, you suppose.

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fic #jungkook drabble #bts x reader #bts fic

[ororowrites]

Scripted - Yahya x Black OC

Sweet Thang- Chapter 3

One-shot: By the Open Fire

Chapters: 1 2 

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,003

Two months later

Candace finished her last night at Dynasty and vowed to never return. She had collected enough money to support the remaining tuition payments, graduation fees and the application fee for Yale’s School of Drama. March had snuck upon her and her application was due in a month for the 2012-2013 school term. The process was daunting because this was the only M.F.A program she planned to apply to and she prayed this wasn’t a mistake. Yale was her dream school and though she was the type to have a plan B, C and Z, she was gambling on her resume and audition tapes.

Yahya had already made one visit to Los Angeles, since he met Candace at Dynasty. He was collecting unemployment and attending acting classes to get more experience to add to his resume. They had talked about his plan moving forward and Yahya was enjoying acting so much, he planned to apply to Yale as well. Candace had convinced him to live a little and follow his heart and talent. Even if his application was denied, he would have the experience and could apply to another program. During their acting class, Candace was surprised by Yahya’s natural talent in theatre. He deeply connected with the scripts and scenarios and she was in awe of how he could change his entire persona to fit the character. Candace wouldn’t admit it, but her attraction to Yahya was growing. Not only was he physically attractive, but his sensitivity and thoughtfulness made him appealing. He was also attracted to Candace and took his time getting to know her, while also respecting her space after her breakup. 

Another acting coach was in town and Yahya made the trip to LA to attend a session with Candace. It had been two weeks since his last visit and he was eager to get into another class and spend time with his friend. They decided to meet at Candace’s apartment and ride to their class together. 

“Do you think this man will make us cry on cue or what,” Candace joked, flipping on her turn signal to take the exit off the expressway. 

“It’s called the Degree of Emotion, I’m sure we’re crying in this class,” Yahya chuckled, scrolling through his email for job postings. Right now, he was living off of unemployment and his savings, he would need a job sooner rather than later. 

“I can’t cry on cue. It takes a bit of coaching to get me there. Hopefully this class can give me some pointers,” Candace revealed. 

Dr. Ben Mayer, renowned acting coach to many in the industry and professor at Julliard, was standing in the middle of the stage when the students arrived. As they walked into the class, he recited an excerpt from the Odyssey. His heavy voice carried throughout the theatre, capturing everyone’s attention before they reached their seats. Yahya grabbed Candace’s hand, helping her down the dark theatre stairs and to the front row. 

“Welcome to the Degree of Emotion. I’m Dr. Ben Mayer, your instructor for today. Please use the first two rows. Don’t be shy, I don’t bite,” the instructor ordered, pointing to the empty seats in front of the stage. “Today, I’ll be working with you on how to convey emotion with your voice, body language and expressions. Many that come into this field think showing emotion is only about crying or showing sadness onscreen or onstage. Emotion is more than that though. Anyone can be trained to cry on cue but what about that makes you feel like the character you’re portraying. Are you stepping into your character’s shoes or simply putting on a hat? Stepping into the shoes is more powerful and more fulfilling than putting on a hat. You walk in shoes and feel them out. So, I’m going to teach you how to do that.” 

For the second half of the class, the group split up into groups of two and practiced different scripts. Dr. Mayer watched each group and offered criticism and advice. Candace was in Yahya’s group and they were supposed to be performing a piece about a couple who hit a rough patch. She felt good about this particular script because of her recent breakup but to her surprise, her performance fell flat for Dr. Mayer. He told her she was wearing a hat instead of stepping into Charlotte’s shoes and she had a lot to work on when it came to emotional acting. 

That criticism stuck with Candace and ate at her for the remainder of the class. The second half of the course was in three weeks, where they would perform their scenes in front of their peers. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Yahya proposed as they walked to a near-by coffee shop. 

“I can handle criticism. It’s being told I don’t convey emotion that bugs me. No instructor has ever said that and here I am trying to get into Yale not conveying enough fuckin’ emotion,” Candace spat between her teeth. Being a perfectionist ended up being her downfall in many things. She believed in being perfect at her crafts, which is how she ended up in extra acting classes outside of her regular theatre courses. “Are my emotions not believable, Yah?” 

“That’s coming from one instructor. We all have different ways of approaching this acting thing. But if you want to work on it, I’m here for a couple of more days. We can practice. No biggie.”

“I don’t know why I’m this bothered about this shit. But I’m going to give his ass emotion next time,” she promised, tossing her curls behind her ear. 

-------

Trinity was out studying with some friends, leaving the apartment free for acting practice and a late brunch. Yahya was on fruit duty, while Candace made waffles and turkey bacon. 

“What do you think is holding you back,” Yahya questioned, glancing over at his acting partner who was concentrating on whisking the lumps out of her pancake mix. 

“Fear of failure. I think too much when it comes to certain scenes and end up closing myself off,” she replied after a few long seconds of silence. “That’s my only explanation. After all that stuff with Maxwell, it got worse, I guess.” 

“I did this class in San Fran and the instructor had us doing meditation before we got to the acting. Maybe you can try that when you have those hard scenes. It helped me because I get too into my own head at times, too,” he offered, wiping his hands on a towel. “For now.... I need you to relax.” 

Once Candace felt Yahya’s strong hands on her shoulders, she could have melted into a puddle in the middle of the kitchen floor. He massaged the tense muscles and rested his chin on top of her head. She hummed in relief, leaning back into his big body. 

“Instead of thinking about how you can hide Dr. Mayer’s body, think about how you can prove him wrong. Put all that anger into Charlotte because she needs you in order to come alive.” 

“Okay,” Candace sighed. 

“Let’s try meditation first,” he suggested, leading Candace to the living room. “Try to get you nice and relaxed before we start.” 

They meditated for ten minutes before returning to the kitchen to clear up counter space. 

“Ready?” Yahya nodded towards his scene partner and earned a nervous nod in response. 

Charlotte and Tyreik - TAKE ONE

“You’ve changed, Ty. Changed in ways you may not realize but I see it. Hell, I feel it too. When we supposedly make love and you aren’t present...you fill me up but you feel empty,” Candace spoke, shifting her weight from hip to hip. Playing Charlotte made her nervous for some reason. Maybe it was her own fear of opening up to another man after having her heart stomped to pieces by Maxwell. Like Charlotte, she no longer wanted to be a doormat to anyone, especially the opposite sex. 

“You sure you even know how to feel anymore,” Yahya replied, pretending to cut invisible vegetables on the cutting board. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You can’t stand here and tell me you feel a thing, Char. I’ve been trying to talk to you about our relationship for months. But you’re always busy or too tired. So yeah....I’ve changed.” 

The conversation was similar to one she had with Maxwell, except the roles were reversed. Like Yahya suggested, she dug deeper to find that spark that would turn on the switch. 

“Because you talk at me. Yelling isn’t talking and it won’t get my attention,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes. “And the only reason you’re even talking is because you feel guilty.” 

Yahya slammed his hands against the the cold, marble countertop, causing Candace to flinch. “Are we still stuck on that shit? I apologized, you accepted, it’s done. Stop bringing up old shit to hide your own insecurities.” 

“We.... then why are we pretending this is what we both want? If we’re this unhappy, why are we doing this,” she mumbled, her eyes falling down to her feet. 

“I don’t know. Maybe because we’re both afraid to let go of what’s familiar to us. I’m your first love and you’re my first long time relationship. Hard to let go of something you worked hard to keep going all these years.”

Dig deep, Candace. Thinking back to how she felt about Maxwell and his unborn child, Candace’s eyes began to water. “I want this to work, Ty. I really do,” she sniffed. Yahya’s eyes met hers and he tried to stay in character but he couldn’t hide how proud he was the moment he saw his advice working for Candace.  

“I do too. But you have to let go of shit if you claim you forgive me,” Yahya moved in closer, letting Candace know they were close to the kissing scene. 

“I’ll try,” she offered, her big, brown orbs searching his looking for a hint of Yahya. He rarely broke character, but there was an extra gleam in his eyes. This was the first time they had done anything outside of hugging. Yahya was respecting Candace’s space and allowing her to heal after her recent breakup.

 Her heart beat violently against her chest when Yahya’s cologne flooded her senses. His lips became Candace’s main focus as he closed the space between them and placed his mouth on hers. The kiss was brazen, making Candace’s knees weak. Yahya placed his hands on the counter, caging in Candace’s small frame. His 6′3 frame towered over her, forcing him to duck his head down to deepen the kiss when her tongue slid past his. Since that night at the club, he had been waiting to kiss Candace’s lips. Just as he thought, they were as soft as pillows and the urge to take things to the next level invaded his thoughts.

Heat rose to Candace’s cheeks before spreading down to her belly, meeting the butterflies that were already dancing. Their scripts were long forgotten and they were well past the point of blaming their actions on their characters. Candace’s fingers toyed with the hem of Yahya’s shirt. They were both breathless when they pulled a part and Candace didn’t give Yahya time to catch his thoughts before her lips were back on his, fighting for dominance. Yahya’s shirt ended up on the kitchen floor, exposing his sculpted but slender mid-section. It was dangerous, yet neither one of them stopped it. The sexual tension had been strong from the moment they met and given the current circumstances, it was boiling over. From the slight touches and long gazes, hormones were bound to get them in this predicament. Yahya’s lips left hers and traveled to her neck, where they stayed, creating love bites.

“Do you want me to stop,” he questioned, his baritone causing a vibration between their bodies. The thumping between her ears and thumping between her legs had Candace’s mind swimming in circles. 

Sorry for the wait and short chapter. We will get A LOT more Yahya and Candace in the next one though!

taglist: @blackburnbook @emjayewrites @just-peachee @chaneajoyyy​

#yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul mateen ii fanfics #yahya abdul mateen x black oc #black oc #black writers #ororo writes

[crocodileniall]

Part 9 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Quinn admitted quietly. “So I came in early. What kind of person goes in to work when they can’t sleep? I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Niall chuckled. “I’m...” he trailed off. “I’m going to come pick you up. We can go for a drive. Grab something to eat.” 

“No it’s okay,” Quinn protested weakly. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sure you have a ton of shit to do today.”

“I don’t,” Niall replied firmly, not taking no for an answer. “I have the day off.”

catch up here 

warnings: NSFW, swearing, alcohol use (brief), lil bit of angst ;) 

        ♡ ♡

It was a particularly bad day. One of those days where Quinn just knew she shouldn’t have gotten out of bed. She could attribute it to the fact that she didn’t sleep. Or the fact that she’d hardly talked to Niall in a week. Or maybe it was the fact that her mother had left her four voicemails throughout the night which resulted in her unable to sleep. 

Whatever it was, there was something in the air. It was a storm cloud. Quinn could practically see it as she walked into work. She was early because she tossed and turned the whole night, giving up around five. 

Her boss was waiting for her, a frown on her face which never was a good sign. Quinn barely got a breath out before her boss jumped on her about an article that wasn’t done. And Quinn was finding herself confused because obviously she can’t write an article if she doesn’t know about it that’s kind of like philosophy. Philosophy is kind of like one of the pillars for which the natural history museum was built on. 

Quinn was angry. Not because she was given a deadline. She could meet the deadline. Quinn was angry because it wasn’t her fault and somehow when things went to shit they were not her boss’s fault, they were Quinn’s. Quinn hated it. 

It had her sitting at her desk ready to cry, ready to pull her hair out because it wasn’t fair to be this stressed out and angry about a job she only half liked. Quinn was suddenly angry at herself for in this moment of deep frustration she wanted nothing more than to hear Niall’s voice. 

“Fuck,” Quinn breathed out, feeling her eyes sting. She would not cry in her office. She wouldn’t. “This day is so stupid,” she mumbled, picking up her phone. 

Her fingers moved on their own, dialing Niall’s number. She pressed the phone to her ear, knee bouncing under her desk. She clutched her cup of coffee in her other hand, lip tucked between her teeth. 

On the last ring, Niall picked up, voice rough and scratchy. “What’s up,” he whispered. 

Quinn was angry with herself all over again because she’d woken him up and he didn’t deserve that. For her to be waking him up at the smallest inconvenience. “Sorry were you sleeping,” Quinn answered after a moment. 

“Yeah I was,” Niall cleared his throat. “Fuck it’s early.”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn repeated. Her voice cracked and she knew he could hear it. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for his response. 

“What’s going on?” Niall asked softly. “Talk t’me.” 

“I hate it here,” Quinn rushed out, clenching her fist. “I hate it here. Everything is my fault. All the time and I fuck-“ Quinn cut off with a strangled groan. “I hate it,” she whispered. 

“Are ya at work?” Niall asked. “Where are you?” 

“I’m at work,” Quinn told him. 

“Why?” He asked though she could hear shuffling on his end. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Quinn admitted quietly. “So I came in early. What kind of person goes in to work when they can’t sleep? I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Niall chuckled. “I’m...” he trailed off. “I’m going to come pick you up. We can go for a drive. Grab something to eat.” 

“No it’s okay,” Quinn protested weakly. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sure you have a ton of shit to do today.”

“I don’t,” Niall replied firmly, not taking no for an answer. “I have the day off.”

The thought of getting the whole day with Niall was so relieving. Quinn took a deep breath, nodding her head. “Okay.”

“I’ll be there in a few,” Niall told her. “Don’t do anything rash, okay?”

“Okay,” Quinn chuckled weakly. “I won’t.” 

Quinn tossed her phone on the desk and let out a sigh. She rubbed her eyes and shook her head. Why would Quinn do something rash. That wasn’t like her. At all. 

But she just kept having these thoughts about sticking it to her boss. Storming into her office and demanding the respect she deserved. Or just quitting. No two weeks notice just a fuck over. 

Nothing rash, Quinn repeated in her mind. She shoved her laptop into her work bag and sat back in her chair. She typed out the most polite, most passive aggressive email she could to her boss. 

She let her know she’d be out of office all day and will handle her obligations in a timely manor but would like to not be contacted unless absolutely necessary. Quinn also included that she wouldn’t be able to meet the deadline she was given this morning and would explain it to the higher ups if needed. Though it would probably be her fault considering Quinn hadn’t even heard of the assignment which required at least a few hours of research and consulting among departments. 

Quinn felt a little bit of pride, sending the email. She didn’t really have the authority to say any of that but it wouldn’t stop her from saying it. Quinn shut her office light off and closed the door behind her. 

As she took the steps, Quinn saw Niall pull up to the curb. She felt a new sense of relief. And she even promised herself she would not cry when she saw him. She wouldn’t. 

Quinn opened the door, climbing in. She collapsed against the seat, eyes closing. “Don’t look at me.”

“Why?” Niall mused, hand settling on her thigh. 

“Because I’ll fuckin cry,” Quinn whispered, fingers winding into his. “And I don’t want to cry right now.”

“What happened?” Niall asked softly. “Quinnie.”

“So much,” Quinn shook her head, opening her eyes. “I slept maybe three hours last night. My mum kept calling. Over and over.”

“What did she want?” Niall asked. 

“I don’t know,” Quinn shrugged. She took a deep breath. “Her first voicemail was silent. Her second voicemail was her just asking a bunch of questions. I think she was drunk. I don’t know.”

“Weird,” Niall murmured. “What else happened?”

“My boss keeps trying to push things on me that she forgot to do,” Quinn shook her head. “Like apparently there was a special issue of our newsletter that needed done like last night and she caught me as soon as I came in giving me shit.” She let out a groan. “I didn’t know anything about it. Fuck I was in Tring for how long? They didn’t CC me in any emails so how the fuck was I supposed to know!” 

“You weren’t,” Niall agreed. “And it wasn’t your fault that you didn’t know.”

“Why does it feel like it is?” Quinn whispered, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I do my absolute best and even on my best day she makes me feel like shit. For things she didn’t do.”

“It isn’t fair to you,” Niall commented. “To always be her scape goat. It seems like she’s abusing her power.”

“I just don’t want to go above her,” Quinn shrugged. “And like complain. It’ll seem like I can’t handle it.”

“But obviously you can,” Niall argued. “If even after getting shit thrown at ya you still first of all, show up to work and second of all do your job well.”

“I might be able to like talk to HR or something,” Quinn shrugged. “I dunno.” 

“I think you should,” Niall nodded. “And remember if-“

“If things get physical you have the best representation,” Quinn cut him off, turning to look at him for the first time with a smile. 

Niall smiled back at her, a chuckle escaping his lips. “See your catching on. The law can’t touch you as long as I’m here.” 

“That’s reassuring,” Quinn agreed. “Though it might be an abuse of your power.”

“Might be,” Niall agreed. “But as your lawyer that wouldn’t be any of your worry.” 

“Okay,” Quinn laughed. “Can I have boyfriend Niall back?” 

“What the fuck you need him for?” Niall asked, mock indignant. 

“Because I want to kiss my boyfriend not my lawyer,” Quinn laughed, rubbing her hands over her face. “Jesus.”

Niall laughed, leaning towards her. He kissed her chastely on the lips. “Kissing your lawyer might be kind of fun, though.” 

“Well I don’t know how to tell you this,” Quinn began slowly. “Lewis is my lawyer. Not you.” 

Niall breathed out a laugh, head dropping. “Fucking hell.”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn shook her head. “He convinced me last weekend at the event. There would be a fair amount of bias towards me on your end. And obviously when I marry you and kill you for insurance money you won’t be able to represent me then,” she shrugged. “It’s best for all of us if he represents me.”

“I tell ya you’ve been spending entirely too much time with him,” Niall laughed, pulling her in for a gentle kiss. “And never talk about Lewis while we’re kissing.” 

Quinn breathed out a laugh, kissing him again. Niall hummed against her lips, fingers brushing through her hair. “Missed this face,” he murmured, thumbing at her jaw. 

Quinn let out a breath, eyes fluttering shut and then open again. “Niall,” she whispered. 

“What lover,” Niall whispered, lips ghosting over hers. He kissed her softly. 

“Mmm fuck,” she mumbled, eyes squeezing shut. “I’m gonna say it.” 

“Say what?” Niall asked, pulling away to look her in the eyes. 

“I love you,” Quinn whispered, eyes stinging. She’d gotten a good look at him and the emotions were rushing over her. 

Niall didn’t give her a second to even let a tear fall. He surged forward, kissing her with a force that had her clutching his shoulder for balance. It was all tongue and teeth and emotion that made Quinn want to burst into tears right on the spot. 

Niall pulled away, wiping her eyes with his thumb. “Do ya really?” He asked softly. “Like really really. Not just-“

“If I didn’t do you think I’d be crying?” Quinn cut him off, laughing wetly. 

“I don’t know,” Niall chuckled. “Maybe you’re crying because you feel so awful saying it because it isn’t true.”

Quinn sniffed, wiping her eyes on the back of her sleeve. She cleared her throat, shaking her head. “Or maybe I’m crying because you’re the first man I’ve ever said it to and it makes me kind of emotional because I never learned how to say that word when I was a child.”

Niall hummed, nodding his head. He breathed out a chuckle, scratching at his jaw. “I’d say that’s a similar feeling I have.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner,” Quinn apologized. “And I’m probably still not good at saying it. Even if I don’t say it a lot. I do. Love you.”

“That’s okay,” Niall shook his head. “Don’t apologize, lover. It’s okay. Really.” 

“So uh...” Quinn trailed off. “Are ya hungry?”

“Mm yeah,” Niall nodded. “I could eat,” he said though his eyes were settled a little south of her eyes. 

Quinn’s cheeks flushed, she pushed him gently. “Food. Eat food.” 

“Oh food,” he repeated, surprised. “Then no I’m actually not hungry.” 

Quinn rolled her eyes, sitting back in her seat. “Well I’m hungry. I’d appreciate it if we got some food before you take me to bed so I don’t cramp.” 

“If you insist,” Niall shook his head, starting the car. “But I’m going to be honest, this is a bit weird of me to do for a client. I’m breaking a lot of lawyer ethics and morals.” 

“Shut up,” Quinn laughed. “Niall if you can’t be my lawyer and my boyfriend I will absolutely ask Lewis to be my representation.”

“Honestly it might be for the best,” Niall nodded, chuckling. “I don’t think I can handle it and I just find myself thinking of a lot inappropriate things when I consider you as a client.” 

Quinn shook her head at him, settling into her seat. She’d finally taken in Niall’s state. He was in a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He had ruffled hair and tired eyes. His face was pale, chin covered with a two day scruff. 

It made Quinn’s heart ache a little to see him like this in a way that he never presents himself. It’s always cleanly shaven, styled hair- or at least brushed hair. 

“You really jumped right out of bed this morning,” Quinn commented, looking him up and down. 

“Of course,” Niall smiled, eyes focused on the road. “When my best client calls I’m up and out. No questions asked.” 

Quinn rolled her eyes, biting back a smile. She fished her phone out of her pocket. “That’s it I’m calling Lewis I cant take it.”

“Obviously I was joking!” Niall exclaimed, snatching her phone from her hands. He tossed her phone into the back seat. “I’m not ready to give you up.” 

“Oh come on Niall,” Quinn groaned, laughing. She twisted in her seat to look for her phone. “I was obviously joking too I don’t even have his phone number.” 

Niall’s boisterous laugh rang out in the silence of the car. Quinn couldn’t help but laugh with him, grabbing her phone off of the floor. “You ever fucking throw my phone like that again you’ll be the one who needs a lawyer,” she muttered, settling back into her seat. 

“You’re all talk,” Niall shook his head, sparing her a glance. “Besides I’m not scared. I know how to make you moan.” 

“There was no need,” Quinn shook her head, a begrudging smile on her face. She rubbed her forehead, looking out the window. “No need to turn this into a sex thing.” 

“I haven’t had ya in ages,” Niall murmured. “Just wanted to make it explicitly clear that I want ya bad. Like I’d take ya in this car right now.” 

“And I’m asking you to not do that,” Quinn laughed, looking out the window as the city passed them by. “Where are we going?”

“How pissed would you be if I said Tring?” Niall asked, an amused smile on his face. Quinn narrowed her eyes at him and he laughed. “It’s a restaurant in Camden. Best waffles. Hands down.” 

Quinn hummed, nodding. “If you say they’re the best then they must be.” 

“Oh they are,” Niall nodded, voice serious. 

It wasn’t long before they were sitting across from each other at a diner the size of a shoebox. Niall was explaining what had happened this week and why he was so absent. He apologized over and over again but Quinn absolutely wouldn’t hear it. 

Niall ordered blueberry pancakes and Quinn got vanilla cinnamon sugar. She had to agree they were incredible waffles. It lead Quinn to believe that he was right about everything. Including that she was worthy of his love even if it was hard. 

Quinn ordered her second coffee of the day and sipped it slowly. She knew no amount of coffee would keep her awake. The moment her head hits the pillow, she’ll be fast asleep. 

Niall’s phone rang many times during their breakfast but he silenced it, shoving it in his sweatshirt pocket. Quinn insisted that he took it but he shook his head. In a soft voice, he murmured, “I’m with you right now. I don’t want to think about anything but you.” 

Quinn’s cheeks ached as she smiled. “It could be important, though.” 

Niall shook his head, eyes meeting hers from across the table. “There’s nothing more important.” 

And what Quinn didn’t know was that before she called he didn’t have the day off. He actually had a lot to do that required him to be in many different places at once. But there wasn’t really wasn’t anything more important. Quinn needed him and he could see that. He needed her too. 

Their stomach were full by the time they left. Quinn had ate her body mass in fruit and Niall only encouraged her, winking as she bit into a pineapple. “Go on, lover. Eat some more,” he’d said. 

Quinn groaned, rolling her eyes. She shifted in her seat because it was absolutely embarrassing the effect he had on her. 

Niall drove with his hand on her thigh. Quinn felt the heat through his hand. It sent a wave of arousal through her that she couldn’t quite explain. Niall played the radio on the oldies station and it reminded her of home just a tiny bit. The home in Ireland that she desperately clung to as a child. 

The drive back to his flat felt like forever and sleep was calling for her at the most inconvenient of times. She fought it hard, eyes sliding along the building they passed. She wondered if the other versions of herself in other universes were as happy as she was now. 

The thought escaped her as he parked the car. Quinn hated driving to his flat because there was never anywhere to park. Somehow Niall always got a spot right in front of the door. 

Quinn got out, shouldering her work bag only for Niall to take it from her. He shook his head, throwing an arm over her shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Do you feel better?” He asked her.

“I do,” Quinn nodded. “You’re good at it.” 

“At what?” Niall mused, pulling the front door open for her. 

“Making me feel better,” Quinn told him, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s a little scary.” 

“Yeah it is scary when you get mad,” Niall agreed. 

“That wasn’t what I was talking about,” Quinn muttered, shoving him gently. 

“Quinn I thought you were gonna kill someone,” Niall laughed. “It’s not enough that you get mad you get so emotional and I can’t tell you how many crimes of passion happen in London every day.”

“Enough of the lawyer talk,” Quinn groaned, slumping against the elevator wall. “I am not your client I’m your girlfriend and if you think that I’d be capable of murder I think we need to have a very serious chat.”

“If you think we’re chatting when we get inside you’re sorely mistaken,” Niall shook his head, staring down at her. 

“I really do feel like just unpacking my whole entire childhood,” Quinn shook her head. “And then after that we can figure out why I can’t stand up to my fucking boss. Together,” she had an adoring smile on her face. “That’s what makes this so special. We can jut talk for hours and hours about everything.”

Niall shook his head. The elevator doors opened and he let out a grunt. “I’m sorry Quinn that’s not what’s going to happen.”

“Then what’s going to happen?” Quinn asked, leaning against the wall as he found his keys. 

“What’s going to happen,” Niall whispered, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “Is I’m going to open this door and I’m going to absolutely wreck your shit.” 

“Please tell me more,” Quinn encouraged, looking him up and down. 

Niall breathed out a laugh, eyes slipping shut for a moment. “We’re both tired so I’m just gonna give it to ya good and we’re both goin to sleep. But just you fucking wait until we wake up.” 

“Sounds to me like you’re all talk,” Quinn murmured. Niall unlocked the front door, pushing it open. 

But Quinn knew that he wasn’t. He was usually pretty honest considering all the shit he said. That didn’t stop Quinn from pushing his buttons just a little. 

When Niall got Quinn into the bedroom he kissed her teasingly, lips barely brushing together. He pulled away, taking his time to unbutton her blouse. “This is meticulously work,” he murmured, looking from his hands to her eyes. 

“Of course,” Quinn agreed. “Though some would argue you’re going so slow because you don’t know what the fuck to do with me. A woman in your bed? You haven’t got a clue.” 

Niall let out a laugh, nodding his head slowly. “Alright if that’s the game you want to play fine. I’ll play,” he shrugged. In one swift motion, Niall tore her blouse apart. Buttons ricocheted around the room. 

Quinn covered her eyes with her hands, laughing. “Oh my god, Niall. This was like my favorite shirt.” 

“Well,” Niall shook his head, roughly pulling her pants down to her ankles. “You drove me to it and I won’t apologize.” 

Quinn was still laughing when he finally kissed her again. This time, with tongue and passion and it shut her up for good. Niall’s hands were between her legs, brushing over her spot and it made her moan into his mouth. 

The things Niall’s fingers could make her do were ungodly and Quinn loved every minute of it. Niall gave it to her good, panting against her neck. He held her hands above her head and sucked at her neck. 

Quinn gasped his name, back arching off the bed. She writhed, eyes pinching shut. Niall moaned against her neck whispering nothing but filth into her ear. Their orgasms washed over them at the same time. Quinn moaned loud, legs wrapping around his hips. Niall grunted, head dropping. 

After a moment, Niall pulled out, collapsing on the bed beside her. He tossed the condom in the trash and settled into bed, eyes slipping shut. Quinn was breathless, chest heaving. “Fuck,” she breathed out. 

“What was that you were saying earlier?” Niall asked, head rolling to the side to look at her. “About me not know what to do with ya.” 

Quinn chuckled, opening her eyes to look at him. She shrugged her shoulders and licked her lips. “I don’t recall.” 

“Right,” Niall chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re full of shit.” 

“I suppose I am,” Quinn agreed, sitting up. Niall grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back down. Quinn laughed, twisting in his arms. “I need to get up.” 

“Stay here,” Niall mumbled, nose brushing against her jaw. He placed a kiss to the soft skin below her jaw. 

“I’ll be right back,” Quinn laughed, peeling his arms from her waist. She leaned down to grab her underwear off the floor, pulling them on. 

Niall let out a groan as she tugged a t-shirt on. Quinn shook her head, glancing over her shoulder at him as she walked toward the bathroom.  

When Quinn  came back, Niall had turned the TV on. He was laying there, eyelids heavy. Quinn turned the lights off, crawling into bed. Niall wrapped his arm around her, kissing her on the forehead. 

“Do you ever just want to run away?” Quinn asked, voice barely a whisper. 

Niall hummed, running his fingers through her hair. “Sometimes.” 

“Where would you go?” Quinn asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes. 

Niall thought about it for a moment, eyes shifting down to look at her. He breathed out a sigh, shaking his head. “I dunno maybe Ireland.”

“Ireland?” Quinn mumbled, eyebrows wrinkling. 

Niall smiled, smoothing out the crinkles on her face with his thumb. “Not like home,” he said. “Like the coast. Where there’s absolutely nothing for miles and miles. And it’s a little cold and rainy but the ocean...” he trailed off, head resting against the headboard. “The ocean just makes it all okay.” 

“That’s sounds nice,” Quinn murmured, eyes fluttering. “Am I there?” 

“Oh no,” Niall shook his head. “I don’t believe you’d every willingly go to Ireland. Any part of it.” 

Quinn laughed, resting her head on his chest. “I’d go with you. As long as we didn’t go home home.” 

“Alright then I guess you can be there,” Niall nodded, smoothing her hair out. “Where would you go.”

Quinn breathed out a sigh, eyes slipping shut. “I think maybe France. Just a busy city, lots of people. No one knows us. And we just drink wine and,” she hummed. “It’s nice.”

“Sounds nice,” Niall agreed. “Sounds a bit like you’re reliving your uni trip.”

“Maybe,” Quinn chuckled. “It was fun. Have you ever been to France?”

“I can’t say that I have,” Niall responded softly. 

“It’s amazing,” Quinn murmured. “Just wine and sex and amazing food.”

“My three favorite things,” Niall chuckled. “I’m sold. Let’s go.” 

Quinn laughed, rolling off of him and onto her pillow. She tugged the duvet up to her shoulders and smiled up at him. Niall sighed, rolling onto his side to face her. “Now why did ya move so far away.” 

“I’m about to fall asleep,” Quinn mumbled, though Niall slid his arms around her waist.  

“So,” he mumbled, brushing the hair from her eyes. “God Quinnie. I just look at ya and I’m like fuck I can’t believe it.” 

Quinn breathed out a laugh, closing her eyes. “Niall,” she whined. 

“Mmm sorry lover,” he whispered. 

“Go to sleep you’re talking absolutely madness,” Quinn mumbled, eyes closing as his fingertips slid up her back. 

“You go to sleep,” Niall murmured. 

Quinn let out one final sigh and Niall knew she’d fallen asleep. He smiled, adjusting the duvet to cover her shoulders. Niall sat up, grabbing his phone from the bedside table. He tugged his sweatpants on and lumbered into the living room. 

He had multiple missed calls and messages from various people at work. He sat down on the sofa, taking a deep breath. Niall dialed Richard’s number and pressed the phone to his ear. 

“Niall,” Richard answered. “Marie told me you’d gone AWOL this morning. I was just touching base.” 

“Yeah I’m really sorry,” Niall answered slowly. “There was a kind of emergency. Something personal came up.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that,” Richard responded, not skipping a beat. “Do you need some time off or...”

“No no,” Niall shook his head. “Just the rest of the day. If possible.”

“Of course,” Richard replied. “I wanted to talk to you about partnering. Do you have a moment?” 

“I- yeah,” Niall nodded, rolling his bottom lip between his fingers. 

“We are holding formal interviews next week in front of a panel,” Richard told him. “It‘s quite unusual to do it this way but the board members are having trouble agreeing unanimously.” 

“Oh okay,” Niall nodded. 

“My assistant will email Marie and they’ll coordinate everything. All you have to do is show up and be yourself. I must say that your votes are high,” Richard told him. “And you obviously have my endorsement. I think it will go very well.”

“That sounds great,” Niall agreed. “I was just wondering if making partner I’d have a lighter schedule?” Niall asked. “It’s not that I can’t handle it I just-“ he cut off with a sigh. “I’ve been really tired lately and it seems like Connor’s been dumping a lot of shit on us last second. And it’s not difficult by any means. It’s just like we don’t have a lot of time to do it and it’s been kind of hard.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Richard hummed. “I wasn’t aware of the load Connor’s been giving you guys but I’ll definitely talk to him about it. As for partner, you will have a much lighter schedule and a lot of freedom to make it as you choose.” 

“Thank you,” Niall breathed out. “I really appreciate it. Honest.” 

“No problem,” Richard chuckled. “Oh and Elise has been buggin me about it. She wants to have you and Quinn over for dinner sometime this month. Just let me know a day that works.”

“I will,” Niall nodded. “I’ll talk to Quinn and let you know.” 

“Alright, Niall. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Bright and early.”

“Bright and early,” Niall echoed with a smile. 

Niall ambled back into his room, relief settling over him. Quinn was still fast asleep and niall knew he’d be right behind her. 

///

Quinn awoke a few hours later to her phone buzzing beside her ear. She let out a groan, rolling over. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and sighed, picking her phone up. It was Brigid. 

“Fuck,” Quinn breathed out, pressing the phone to her ear. “Hello?” 

“Quinn,” Brigid answered. “What are you doing.” 

“I just woke up,” Quinn mumbled. “What do you need.” 

“You just woke up?” She asked. “Isn’t it the afternoon?” 

Quinn fully sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Yes. What do you need.” 

“I was calling about last night,” Brigid sighed. “I wanted to apologize. Your father and I got into a fight and things got kind of messy.” 

Quinn pushed her fingers through her hair, taking a calming breath. “What’s going on?” 

“He’s been working so much,” Brigid explained. “And I’ve been lonely. I tried to talk to him but things got all turned around. I dunno.”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn mumbled.  That’s when Niall rolled over, eyes bleary. He wrapped his arms around her leg, cheek resting on her thigh. Quinn ran her fingers through his hair, eyes flicking down to meet his. Niall smiled at her, cheeks red from sleep. 

“I’m sorry that I called you so many times,” Brigid apologized. “I drank so much that I can barely remember what happened.” 

“It’s okay,” Quinn nodded. “I have t’go though.”

“Okay,” Brigid responded quietly. “We’ll talk soon.” 

“Bye,” Quinn breathed out before hanging up. She tossed her phone on the bed and sat back, eyes slipping shut. 

“Everything alright,” Niall asked, voice soft. 

Quinn nodded, feeling the curl of his fingers against her leg. She let out a sigh, fingers moving through his hair. “Just a fight me mum and da’ had. Not a big deal.” 

“Are ya sure?” Niall asked. 

“I dunno,” Quinn shrugged, looking down at him. “For some reason my mum was piss drunk on a Wednesday night? She said she’s been so lonely what the fuck does that even mean?” 

“Maybe that she’s lonely,” Niall offered. 

“Or that she’s got a boyfriend and my dad found out,” Quinn concluded, voice quiet. “No one handles loneliness quite like Brigid.” 

Niall dropped a kiss to Quinn’s thigh, eyes closing. Quinn breathed out a sigh. It wasn’t until his fingers brushed against her pantie-clad center that Quinn knew what he was doing. “Niall,” she warned though there was no heat behind her words. 

“What’s up?” Niall mumbled, eyes opening to look up at her. There was a smile tugging on the corner of his pink lips that Quinn could see. He wasn’t slick though he probably wasn’t trying to be. 

Quinn smiled at him, shaking her head. “Honestly. We just woke up.” 

“I know,” Niall mumbled, fingers stroking the inside of her thigh. “But I woke up hard as fuck and now that I’m lookin at ya...” 

A laugh rumbled out of Quinn’s chest despite her best efforts not to entertain his ideas. The feeling of his fingertips on her skin always lit a fire within her. Quinn let her eyes slip shut for a moment. Her stomach growled. “I’m hungry.” 

“Me too,” Niall agreed, kissing her thigh. 

“For food,” Quinn clarified, shaking her head. “Jesus Niall why must I always say that.” 

Niall laughed, finally letting her leg go to roll over. Quinn immediately felt the absence and longed for his touch again. Niall grabbed her phone from the bed, unlocking it. “What do you feel like?” 

“Mmm,” Quinn hummed. “Maybe wings?” 

“Sounds good,” Niall agreed, opening postmates to order their food. 

Quinn looked at the clock, feeling a sense of urgency. It was nearing six in the afternoon and she’d done nothing all day and it made her anxious beyond belief. 

After a moment, Niall set her phone down on the bedside table, sitting up. “Alright, lover lay down.”

“Why?” Quinn chuckled, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Because I’m absolutely starving and if I don’t get me mouth on you I’m probably not going to make it,” Niall shook his head looking at her expectantly. 

“Well I’d just hate for that to happen,” Quinn agreed as he shifted between her legs. 

Niall tugged her panties down, hands wrapping around her thighs. He let out a hum, nodding his head. It wasn’t long before he was diving in, tongue flicking against her clit. Quinn relaxed against the bed, eyes slipping shut. And when he pushed two fingers inside of her, Quinn moaned, back arching off the bed. 

Niall had her cumming not long after, mouth sucking on her greedily. Quinn moaned out his name obscenely, fingers gripping the sheets and it was everything Niall’d wanted. There was nothing he loved more than watching her come apart. 

Quinn had barely come down from her high when she panted, “fuck me,” against his lips. 

Niall’s lips brushed against hers, as he asked. “Ya sure?” 

“Yes,” she nodded, eyes slipping shut. 

Niall kissed her lips soundly before pulling away to rummage around in the drawer beside his bed. It only took a moment for him to pull a condom out triumphantly. 

Quinn already had her legs spread and her t-shirt bunched up. Niall kissed at her neck, positioning himself between her legs. Pushing in, he whispered, “fuck,” against her neck. 

Quinn tugged on his hair, pulling his head back to look at him. “What did you say about wrecking my shit? I’m ready for it.” 

Niall grunted, kissing her forcefully. He tugged her bottom lip between his teeth slowly. “I don’t think you are, darling.” 

Quinn wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in. Niall groaned, eyes sliding over her face. “I actually think I am. But I’m thinking you’re not. Can’t hang.” 

“I can fucking hang,” Niall grunted, pulling out only to fuck into her with a force that had her gasping against his lips. 

“Oh fuck yeah,” Quinn laughed, eyes slipping shut. 

Niall kept fucking into her, mouth finding her neck to bite and suck. It had Quinn a mess, nails digging into his back, gasping his name. It wasn’t long before she had him cumming, eyes slipping shut as she clenched around him. 

Niall caught her lips in a clumsy kiss. He breathed out, “fuckin love ya. Jesus Christ, Quinn.” 

Quinn smiled, pushing her fingers through his damp hair. “That was all you. I suppose you are a good fuck.” 

Niall breathed out a laugh, rolling onto the bed beside her. “Fuck off Quinn. I can’t get wound up again.” 

Quinn smiled, rolling over to face him. She slid her fingers over his flushed cheek. “I think you probably could.” 

Niall’s eyes fluttered. He tilted his head, kissing her palm. “Fuck I could.” 

Quinn took the opportunity to kiss his lips slowly, taking her time. She licked into his mouth, a moan escaping her lips. Niall’s eyes fluttered shut. He groaned against her lips. 

Quinn reached down between them, pulling the discarded condom off of him. She leaned over, tossing it into the trash can. Niall slid his hands down her back, pulling her in. 

Niall was breathless, kissing her, hands roaming all over her body. He let out a soft sigh, pulling away. He murmured. “Need a moment.” 

Quinn hummed, kissing at his jaw. She rested her head on his chest, fingers sliding down his stomach. The rise and fall of his chest was enough to make her want to fall asleep again. 

A knock at the door had Quinn groaning, rolling off of him. Niall sat up, a smile on his lips. He chuckled, “I’ll get it.” 

Niall tugged his sweatpants back on and stood up. Quinn watched him walk out of the room, pulling a shirt over his head. Quinn took the moment to go to the bathroom and to search for some clothes. 

It must have been a miracle for her to find a pair of leggings shoved in the top drawer of his dresser. Quinn looked around the room, eyes falling on the overflowing laundry basket that was sitting in the corner.   

Quinn sighed, tugging her pants on. She met Niall in the kitchen. The takeout was spread across the table and he had two wine glasses filled halfway. 

“A fancy dinner,” Quinn commented, sliding into the chair across from him. “If I’d known I wouldn’t have put pants on.”

Niall chuckled, picking up his glass. He took a sip and sighed. “What a fuckin day.”

Quinn hummed in agreement, sliding her container towards her. She picked up a wing in her hands and took a bite. Niall cleared his throat. “So I talked to Richard earlier and he wanted me to ask you about dinner with him and Elise.”

“Oh,” Quinn nodded. “When?” 

“Whenever we’re free, I guess,” Niall shrugged. “He told me to let him know.”

“I’m free whenever you are,” Quinn offered, taking another bite. Her eyes shifted between Niall and the table. 

“If you don’t want to we don’t have to,” Niall added tactfully. “I know you said it was kind of weird.”

“It was,” Quinn nodded. “Definitely weird but it’s your boss. I wouldn’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Niall asked skeptically. 

“Of course,” Quinn nodded, looking up at him. She shrugged her shoulders, taking a sip of wine. “Just a night. I’ll survive it.” 

“Okay,” Niall chuckled. 

“Besides you’re a fair man,” Quinn added, a smile spreading over her lips. “If I do for you I just know you’ll do for me.” 

“Interesting,” Niall murmured, an amused smile on his face. “And I am a fair man. I’m sure we can work out some sort of deal.” 

“Of course,” Quinn murmured sultrily. 

Just by the way Niall was looking at her, Quinn knew they were in for a long night. Quinn couldn’t wait to fall back into bed with him. And maybe in the shower too. It was safe to say she’d sleep like a baby tonight. 

///

Soooooo what did we think? let me know how you feel, what you loved or what you didn't! 

here is the lover board 

and my other works 

thank you for reading :)) 

#lover au #lover part 9 #niall fanfic #Niall au #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fanfiction #Niall smut #all I have to say is #WE PRACTICE SAFE S*X IN THIS HOUSE #and I love Niall and Quinn that's all

[bing-fucker]

what would henrik's reaction to seeing a mermaid be (particularly a handsome blind merperson 👀

Okay so originally I was going to just do this as a normal ask, but then I was like “yeah, okay, I could do that except I miss writing my boys” so!! I am writing my boys!!!! Because merperson Host is my favorite idea ever. As usual, The Host is AFAB nonbinary.

Also. I.............. can’t write action sequences, so here we are. This also weirdly doesn’t have a lot of sex. I think that might just be a trend of this au...

Warnings: Monster fucking, merperson anatomy, almost drowning, use of the word “kraut” against a German character, use of the term cunt for a nonbinary person’s genitals, breast play on a nonbinary person, oral sex. As always, ask me to add any necessary warnings!

Henrik didn’t get a break often. It was unfortunately something he was used to. As a surgeon, Henrik was a very important person in the hospital. He had to work long, often shifts, and it was very rare and pleasant when Henrik got the chance to get away from his work. His favorite place to get away was the beach. It was usually very, very busy, but Henrik knew good places to go to get away from everyone. His favorite spot was a smaller part of the beach hidden by an outcropping of rock that took a while to climb. Probably not the best place to hide if you’re a doctor that needs your hands for your job, but Henrik was rather skilled at not getting injured as he hid away from the general public.

Luckily, Henrik’s little hideaway was as empty as it always was. He didn’t know what he would have done if it wasn’t, but it probably would have included very angry mumbling in German. But instead, it was empty, and Henrik could spend the day simply reading and enjoying himself. Henrik breathed a sigh of relief and set his blanket up next to a large tide pool. High tide wasn’t usually until the night time, and so Henrik was quite comfortable not to worry about it.

Hours later, Henrik packed up his things to go to the pier and get dinner. The pier was rather strange if Henrik was honest. It was made almost exclusively for large cruise liners and was rather tall. Henrik was pretty sure that, no matter what the sign at the front said, it hadn’t been built in 1867, but he wasn’t much one to argue for dumb technicalities like that. There was a part of the pier that Henrik was prone to going to. Similar to his spot on the beach, not many people came to this part of the pier and so Henrik was generally left alone to do whatever it was he wanted. Which was to usually eat whatever food that was bound to be horrible for him that he’d managed to find tonight and ignore the rest of the world.

So it was very unfortunate, then, that Henrik’s spot wasn’t empty. Sure it was for a while, long enough for Henrik to eat and then just get into the rhythm of answering work emails on his phone. And then, in the middle of actually a phone call with the chief at another hospital that had approached him with a much better job opportunity - ER surgeon was great, sure, but Henrik would much rather be the cardiology director if he had the choice - that a group of not quite teenagers but most definitely not adults encroached on his space.

“Scheiße,” Henrik muttered at their approach, starting to gather his things. “Nein, nein, sorry. That was not for you, I apologize. Can I call you back tomorrow, once I’m at my office? Ja? All righty, thank you.” Henrik quickly hung up and put his phone in his pocket, looking around and realizing with a start that it probably would have been better to stay on the phone if he wanted to avoid being approached.

“Hey, man!” one of the young men shouted. Henrik considered simply ignoring him and continuing on his way, but even he wasn’t that rude.

“You dropped your book,” the young man said, offering Henrik the book once he had turned around.

“Oh.” Henrik gratefully took the book. “Thank you, I did not realize I dropped it.”

The young man paused and Henrik practically knew what he was going to say before he could even say it. “Fuckin’ kraut.”

“Ja, ja, whatever,” Henrik muttered. It didn’t really hurt him, to be honest. It was an old, old word that Henrik hadn’t been called in years. It was a wonder that someone this young would even know that word.

“Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you!” the young man yelled, shoving at Henrik.

“I really just want to go,” Henrik sighed, setting his things down and turning to the young man, only to stumble back as he was punched in the face.

“Oh, what the hell!?” Henrik exclaimed, managing to land a single punch on the other man before his friends shoved Henrik back and... off the pier.

And wasn’t that terrifying? The feeling of nothing but air around him, nothing there to catch him. Nothing to save him. It wouldn’t have been that bad of a fall, to be honest. He had been pretty far into the sea on the pier, and it was short enough to keep Henrik from being killed by it, but it is still a terrifying feeling to fall into the roiling ocean as the high tide just started to come in. Henrik didn’t even have time to scream before the world went black around him.

Henrik wasn’t sure when he woke up. It could have been minutes or hours or days later, he didn’t know. What he knew was that he was in an ocean cave, his glasses were somehow on his face, there was somehow a fire a bit away from Henrik, and there was a person sitting half in the water with their back to Henrik. Henrik sat up carefully, wincing slightly as his leg twinged in pain.

“Where are we?” Henrik asked the person. They didn’t turn to Henrik, merely cocking their head to indicate that they heard him.

“He is in a sea cave,” the person said carefully. “He has been here for a few hours. The coast guard is already searching for him.”

“Did you... save me?” Henrik asked, carefully shifting closer to the person. “What happened to my leg?”

“The Host saved him, yes,” the person - The Host? - replied. “He hurt his leg. Cut it on the coral. The Host made sure that it would not get infected. He is very far from where the coast guard is searching. The Host apologizes for that.”

“Far... how far?” Henrik asked, looking at his leg carefully. It was wrapped in the torn fabric of Henrik’s shirt, surprisingly well done as well. “My name is Henrik, by the way.”

“Henrik is about a week away from where the coast guard is searching. The Host brought him as close as they could without risking themselves and risking Henrik’s condition.”

“Oh...” Henrik frowned deeply, scooting closer to the person again. “Thank you for saving me, Host.” Henrik gently touched The Host’s shoulder to make them look at him, quickly drawing his hand back as The Host flinched and quickly leaped into the water.

“What!?” Henrik exclaimed, eyes wide as he looked around the pool The Host had jumped into. “Nein, nein, nein, nein! Host? Host!? Scheiße, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you! Please be okay!”

“The Host...” Henrik breathed a sigh of relief when The Host’s voice came from the other, completely dark side of the pool. “The Host would prefer that Henrik not try to look at them.”

“Okay,” Henrik said. “I’m sorry, I won’t try to. But, Host? What did you mean by risking yourself? Earlier?”

“The Host...” There was the sound of shifting and then something long and glittering golden resting next to Henrik from across the pool. It was a fan. A large fin that attached to a long tail that ascended into what little Henrik could see of The Host’s torso.

“You’re...” Henrik had heard stories of merrow. Stories of creatures half human and half fish, with beautiful tails and faces. Hell, Henrik had gotten many a drunken rant about them from Chase since the other had met his new boyfriend Jack. “I didn’t think they were real. I thought it was just a story...” Henrik carefully lifted his hand and ran it along the fin, immediately retracting it as The Host gasped and shifted their tail back into the water.

“I’m sorry,” Henrik said quickly. “I seem to keep doing things that make you uncomfortable...”

“Henrik need not apologize,” The Host said, hugging themself carefully. “The Host is simply unused to being around humans. Henrik did not do anything wrong.”

“I did, but okay,” Henrik said, smiling faintly. “I’ll try not to do that anymore.”

The Host nodded carefully. “Henrik should get some more sleep. He will need rest to heal. The Host will gather food while he sleeps.” Henrik nodded and laid back down, waiting for a splash that indicated The Host had left before going to sleep.

Four days later, Henrik found something odd. Not in the cave or the water, but within himself. He felt... comfortable around The Host. He didn’t usually warm up to people so quickly, and he certainly didn’t usually desire to kiss people so quick, especially when he hasn’t even seen their face. But he felt connected to The Host. He had absolutely no idea why, but it felt as if he was meant to be with The Host. As if it was simply a fact of his life that The Host was supposed to be there.

“Host,” Henrik said softly. The Host was once again sat with their back to Henrik as the pair ate, the fire playing off The Host’s golden scales.

“Does Henrik have a question?” The Host asked.

“Ja,” Henrik said, shifting closer to The Host. “Host, I know that you do not want me to see you, and I know that we have not known each other long, but... I feel connected to you, Host. I do not know why, but I do.”

“The Host feels the same,” The Host admitted. “They cannot say why either, but they do.”

“Host,” Henrik said softly and gently touching The Host’s shoulder, relieved to find that The Host did not pull away from his touch. “Host, please, may I see your face?” The Host hesitated for a moment before they turned to Henrik. Henrik gasped softly at the sight, carefully lifted his hand to cup their cheek.

“The Host knows,” they said softly. “The Host is scarred. Ugly...”

“Nein,” Henrik said quickly, lifting his other hand to hold The Host’s face. “Host, no. You are beautiful.” Henrik carefully swiped his thumb under one of The Host’s empty eye sockets, admiring the person in front of him.

“Host, you are disabled, yes,” Henrik said, running his thumb down to The Host’s cheekbone. “But you are not ugly. You are gorgeous, no matter what you may think.”

“The Host... The Host is?” The Host asked, looking confused.

“Yes,” Henrik said firmly, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against The Host’s. “I don’t... Host, I cannot say why I feel connected to you as I have already said, but why doesn’t matter. I do, and you feel connected to me, and there is something between us that cannot be explained. But even if we do not know why, we know that we have each other. And I know that you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen.”

The Host was silent for a moment before they leaned forward and pressed their lips against Henrik’s, gently gripping Henrik’s shoulders and pulling him close. Henrik groaned softly and deepened the kiss, resting his hands on The Host’s tail and pulling them closer. The Host blushed, moaning softly and pressing closer to Henrik.

“You’re beautiful,” Henrik muttered, pulling away from the kiss and kissing down The Host’s neck and gently massaging The Host’s tail. The Host whimpered softly, their scales softening beneath Henrik’s hand and slowly spreading to reveal The Host’s cunt.

“I didn’t realize that would affect you so much,” Henrik said, looking down at The Host’s entrance and instinctively bucking his hardening cock against The Host’s tail. The Host moaned softly, dropping their hands to Henrik’s fly and slowly undoing it.

“Host,” Henrik muttered, pressing his forehead against The Host’s and lifting his hands to massage the mer’s breasts. “Are you sure you want this? We just met, we’ve barely discovered our feelings...”

“Yes,” The Host moaned quickly, pulling away from Henrik and lifting their tail to rest it completely out of the water and pulling Henrik over them. “The Host wants Henrik to make love to them.”

Henrik bit his lip and nodded, quickly pulling his clothes off properly and kissing The Host as he settled over their tail. The Host whimpered and kissed Henrik deeper, moaning into the kiss as Henrik slowly started pushing his cock inside of them. Henrik swallowed The Host’s moans eagerly, moaning in return at the feeling of their warmth around him.

“God, you feel perfect,” Henrik moaned, gripping The Host’s hips and carefully starting to thrust in and out of them. The Host moaned loudly, their moans echoing throughout the cave as Henrik slowly sped up, angling his hips to push deeper inside of them.

“Henrik~” The Host moaned, carefully scratching down Henrik’s back. “Henrik~ Please, The Host needs Henrik to go faster~”

“Yes,” Henrik moaned, going faster. “Fuck, Host, I love you. I need you, you feel so good~” Henrik whimpered softly, thrusting harder into The Host to draw even louder moans from them.

“Th-the Host loves Henrik as well,” The Host moaned, throwing their head back and squeezing their eyelids shut.

“H-host, I’m not going to last long,” Henrik groaned, pressing his forehead against The Host’s shoulder.

“May,” The Host licked their lips. “May The Host mark Henrik?”

“Yes,” Henrik whimpered, gather The Host into his arms and holding them tight as he thrust deep inside of them and came. The Host moaned and bit into the junction between Henrik’s shoulder and neck, their cunt squeezing around Henrik’s cock as they came as well.

Henrik carefully released The Host and pulled out, groaning softly at the sight of his cum decorating the puffy lips of The Host’s cunt. The Host gasped, their back arching as Henrik leaned down and pushed his tongue inside of them. Henrik moaned at the combined taste of himself and The Host, gripping their hips tightly as he eagerly ate them out.

“Henrik~” The Host moaned weakly, desperately trying to grind up against the human’s face. Henrik kept a firm grip on their hips as he continued, fucking them with his tongue as well as he did with his dick. The Host moaned loudly as they came again. Henrik pulled away, licking his lips and chin clean before helping The Host back into the water so they could breathe properly.

Henrik shifted to fix his clothes and roll onto his side, reaching into the water and taking The Host’s hand. The Host blushed and gripped Henrik’s hand, falling asleep with him.

#mer au

[harryforvogue]

Ugh some fluff of Harry being upset and not knowing how to deal with it but finally letting Mia just give him a cuddle and fret over him for a night when they’re still dom and sub would melt my heart!!!!

sorry for letting this sit in my inbox for months :0

**

Mia learns pretty early on that Harry’s a moody person. Some days he’s happy and eager to crawl into bed with her, attacking her with his affection, and then there are the days where he can go hours without speaking to her. 

Today seems like the latter, and it’s driving her insane. 

He’s overworking himself, as he always does, and his submissive is sitting right beside him and he still hasn’t given her a proper glance over. She doesn’t really understand what he’s doing on his laptop. A few minutes ago she had snuggled into his side to peer at his work, but it’s just some vague emails to which Harry replies some very not nice things.

The frown on his face is deep and he’s clearly upset from the moment he picked her up and brought both of them to this pretty decent hotel room, but the anger at his day hasn’t washed away yet. It’s still settled into his fine lines.

He doesn’t seem to care that she’s reading all his personal emails, but she’s alarmed by his language.

“Are you allowed to say that in an email to an employee?” she murmurs against his shoulder. 

“What?”

“You said,” she pauses to squint, “’fuck your work ethics and consider updating your resume’.”

Harry briefly looks over the words. “What did I say wrong?”

“You’re not the nicest boss, hmm?”

Her dominant scoffs. “If you think I’m not nice, wait ‘til you meet my father. He’s the real asshole.”

Mia nuzzles her nose into his jaw. “I don’t want to ever meet your dad.”

“Don’t worry,” he replies gruffly, “you never will.”

He picks up his pace as he opens another email that makes him seemingly a little angrier. She truly doesn’t understand why he’s so upset when the email just contains some constructive criticism about the manufacturing end of his company, but it makes his blood boil nonetheless. She’s seen him frustrated and anger, but never this unsettled.

“You had a bad day,” she tells him, dropping her cheek onto his shoulder. “And it’s almost midnight. Why don’t we go to sleep?”

Harry licks his lips. “I’m not stopping you from sleeping, Amelia. Go ahead. I just need to put these pricks in their place.”

“Well, maybe that the problem. They’re misjudging your tone. Maybe you seem less angry over email even though you’re hot to the touch right now.”

His fingers pause for a second. “You’re right.” Then, he shuts his laptop with an alarmingly strong hand and says, “I should fuckin’ call ‘em.”

He pushes himself off the bed, but she scrambles to him, holding him down by the wrists to immobilize him. “Not what I meant, sir. Let’s just sleep. I can tell you’re tired.”

“Not tired,” he mutters, swinging his legs over the bed until his socked feet touch the floor. “Need to work. Have a deadline by the end of the week and my dad’s been on my fucking ass about it. He leaves all this shit to me as if I don’t have a damn life of my own. Can’t be doing his fucking job and mine, now can I?”

Before he stands up, Mia pouts and drapes her arms around his neck, legs around his waist. His hands immediately drop to the back of her thighs as if about to hoist her into his back for a piggyback ride. 

“Sir,” she says quietly. “That’s what’s gotten you so upset? Your father?”

“If you knew him,” Harry insists angrily, “you’d know how much of a dick he is. I’m fuckin 23. I don’t know shit about this company and he expects me to be able to run it. Me!” He lets out a dark, sarcastic laugh. “I’ll fucking show him how great of a boss I am by firing half his workers and then–”

“Okay!” Mia exclaims, releasing him but quickly traveling around his side to seat herself in his lap. “I get it, you’re mad. But it’s midnight. And you need sleep so you have the energy to call those dickwads in the morning and offer to fire them. If you don’t sleep, you’ll half ass it and you’ll regret not screaming at them enough.” She loops her arms around his neck and sends him a pretty smile that makes his heart melt just at the mere sight. “Come on. I’ll be the big spoon.”

“Your hands barely even touch when they go around my biceps.”

“That’s irrelevant. Now strip. And get back in bed.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “What – you want me to start calling you mistress, too?”

Mia playfully pretends to think about it. “Are you into that?”

“No.”

“Then, no. C’mon.”

She releases him long enough to pull her shirt over her head and watch him do the same. She unbuckles her bra and stands up to push her sweats down. As she walks around the bed back to her spot, she feels his eyes on him. 

His expression isn’t lustful. If anything, he’s asking with his clear eyes to hold him and listen to him. She slinks into the bed and waits for his own pants to drop before he joins her. With a careless flick on his finger, the lights are turned off and she’s got him finally where she wants him to be.

Harry lays his head between her soft breasts and sighs deeply. One of his hands comes up to softly attach itself onto her breast and he doesn’t massage or pinch her nipple. He simply rests his entire weight on her and holds her breast for what seems like comfort. 

Mia smiles. She runs one hand through his hair while the other caresses his arm. “Wanna talk about it, sir? I might not understand a lot, but I’m going to listen to everything you have to let out.”

Harry’s quiet. She doesn’t expect him to jump at the idea of venting to her. 

A few minutes pass. She’s positive he’s fallen asleep so she stops scratching at his scalp and turns her neck the other way to find her own comfort and fall asleep.

To her surprise, Harry forces a hand under her and pulls her closer to him. The hand on her breast is still there, as if it’s keeping him grounded. 

“I don’t like him,” is all he says. She doesn’t need to ask who he’s speaking about. “Don’t wanna talk about it. Just want…this.” Then, he adds in quietly, “Thank you.”

She tightens her arms around him and tilts her head towards his curly mop. “Okay, sir.”

She decides a blowie is in order first thing in the morning to get his day started right. 

#harry and mia #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry and mia extras #harry styles fic #Anonymous

[pynkhues]

Prompts for Center and Circumference if you are..... I'd love to see Rio having a tea party with the girls and Beth getting a picture of him wearing a funny hat.

Not exactly a tea party, and not exactly a hat, but I hope you like it anyway, anon. :-) 

- 

“When do they come on?”

“Soon, pop,” Rio hums, shifting further back in his seat and glancing sideways at his son. He squints, rocks his jaw when he clocks Marcus’ heels hooked into the padded bottom of the chair, and shit, if that ain’t Jane all over. Rio makes a pointed noise in his throat, dragging Marcus’ attention back from the stage, down to his feet. He promptly drops his legs.

“We’ve been here for ages,” Danny whines on Marcus’ other side, and Rio’s basically inclined to agree. He had vague recollections of watchin’ his sisters at their own recitals thirty years ago, but it had nothing on this whole thing. Elizabeth had been stressin’ about it for weeks, and in here now – at some hired out little theater, it’s easier to see why. Ain’t exactly Radio City, but school halls ain’t got shit on it with its high stage and dark velvet curtains, bright, moving stage lights and thousand-chair audience. Not that the seats are full exactly, but it’s close, he’ll give ‘em that.

Then again, it is the girls’ dance school’s end of year revue.

It had been a big enough deal at home anyway – with double the amount of classes for the girls as usual – a fuckin’ scam if ever he’s heard one, because next thing Elizabeth’s fiddlin’ with their household budget and suspending her yoga classes until the end of the year to pay for it like they’ve got to count pennies (and shit, she’d been pissed when he’d called the club to unsuspend it, but he knows how long it’s taken her to find an instructor she likes, and he knows just how fast spots get snapped up there, and he ain’t havin’ her goin’ without for no damn reason. Not that she’d agreed with that either.

“The whole point of a household budget is to stick to it,” she’d insisted in bed that night, her freezing feet pushed between his calves for warmth. “We can’t just keep magicking up more money to pay for things.”

He’d scoffed, pulling her closer, until she was half draped across his chest, hand drifting down her back, canvassing the knobs of her spine before sliding over the swell of her ass.

“Do you even remember what trade we in, mami? Or you wanna go pick up some more wrappin’ paper with your girls for reference?”)

It hadn’t just been the extra classes though. If it was, maybe it would’ve been easier, but it was the fact that the parents were expected to make the costumes themselves – the dance school emailing out patterns and listing out fabric stores like they’re doin’ them a favour. Elizabeth being Elizabeth had gone and volunteered to make half the other girls’ in the class’ too, and shit, he feels like Halloween was yesterday (two months, but still) and now he’s pretty sure the electric whir of her sewing machine has become the soundtrack to his nightmares.

It had only gotten worse too when Emma had been promoted to head dancer for their class, something that had the kid alternately glowin’ like she’d swallowed a lightbulb and sobbin’ over her footwork not being good enough, which had only in turn gotten Elizabeth all in her head, stressin’ about this whole thing being perfect for Emma, despite Rio trying to tell her nothin’ good would come of protecting a kid from the reality of hard work and the rewards of it (like, fuck, she was already head dancer – if that wasn’t winning, he wasn’t sure what was).

Rio sighs, shifts back in his seat, resists the urge to rub at his forehead at what feels like the twentieth group of little girls in tutus skipping out onto the stage. Tinkling piano music starts up again (and he’s sure they’ve played this song before), when a dim light hits the corner of his eye. Rio twists in his seat, looking to his other side to find Kenny with his cell shoved up his shirt for cover, reading some bullshit on somethin’ or other, and Rio levels him with a look, holding out his hand. Kenny at least has the good sense to look bashful, pulling his phone out from his shirt and passing it over to Rio.

On stage, the dance wraps up, and a tall, thin woman with a head of tight black curls steps out onto the stage, still clapping as she approaches the microphone stand in the far corner of the stage.

“Wow, what a performance from our Bright Little Bees class! Now we’re moving from the backyard to the forest for our next performance with our Gumdrop Fairies!”

Marcus gasps at that, and all three of the boys sit up a little straighter, looking over the heads in front of them to get the best view of the stage, and Rio quickly passes Kenny back his phone, gesturing out to the aisle.

“Film it for your ma and your aunts and your abuela, yeah?”

Because shit, he’s already preparin’ himself for an earful from his mom for not inviting her (nothin’ personal – Emma had banned extended family, too up in her nerves), if she finds out he didn’t even tape the thing, he doesn’t think he’ll ever hear the end of it.

Kenny nods, pleased for a job, sliding out of his seat and into the aisle as the piano music starts again from the front of the theatre.

Rio’s only just had the time to turn around when a little girl dance-runs out onto the stage, a puff of white tulle and silver glitter, her hair bundled up on top of her head. She curtseys to the audience, and then behind her, another little girl does the same, and then the third is Jane, making Marcus and Danny burst into cheers beside him, and Rio grins too, watching her curtsey a little roughly to the audience, and he sits up taller, hoping she’ll be able to see them only - -

Rio frowns, because Jane spots him and Marcus and Danny, but averts her gaze, no toothy grin or proud little chin tilt to be seen. He narrows his eyes, watching as little girl after little girl dances out onto the stage, and then the fairy queen, only - -  

“That’s not Emma,” Danny says a little too loudly, making a bunch of the parents turn around to shush him, but Rio gives them all dark looks, making them quickly turn back, because that little blonde girl definitely ain’t Emma. He waits a minute, watching the stage as Marcus and Danny murmur confused beside him, and even Kenny’s looking back at him from the aisle, and finally he waves a hand at them.

“Stay and watch Jane, I’ll be back in a minute. Kenny’s in charge.”  

With that, he scoots out of the seats, glad Elizabeth had booked them closest to the aisle in case Rio had needed to take a call, before ducking out. He heads out the back doors and then around towards the backstage area where he’d seen Elizabeth briefly before the thing had started – every inch of her sparklin’ from where she’d been spraying glitter onto costumes and her hands a little bloody from pin pricks and needles.

Slipping through the door, he’s met with a mess of cheap, pop-star perfume and bouquets of wilting gas station flowers, tiny kids in tights and tutus rushing around, laughing, mothers shushing, a few running through steps, more just giggling as they pelt each other with powder puffs covered bright with pink blush. Glancing around the space, he spots the names of the group classes – following through from the Bright Little Bees to the Dancing Divas to the Princesses of Power and Rio’s rolling his eyes a little at the names before he finds the empty corner for the Gumdrop Fairies. He ducks over, briefly checking over the area before spotting Elizabeth’s bag, shoved into the corner beneath one of the little dressing tables. Crouching down to peak inside, he rolls his eyes when he finds both her cell and her wallet left in it because clearly she gets off on not listenin’ to him, and he grabs both, shoving them into the back pocket of his jeans before standing back up.

He glances across the room again, only to spot a dark-haired woman at the next class over eyeing him a little uncertainly. Rio rolls his shoulders back, gestures with a tilt of his head down to Elizabeth’s handbag.

“Yo, you see the woman and little girl who was here?”

The woman blinks, opens her mouth, her hands fluffin’ up a tutu, and her eyes drop down to his tattoo, but she firms up her step.

“I’ve seen a lot of women and little girls here,” she says carefully, and Rio huffs, tries to soften his expression.

“I’m lookin’ for my partner and her daughter. She’s supposed to be out on stage right now with her sister, but she ain’t. Just tryna figure out what’s goin’ on.”

The woman’s brow draws, her expression shifting cautiously as she looks like she’s trying to gauge intent in his expression, and she must see something she likes, because she smiles sympathetically at him, before glancing down at a little girl who can only be her own daughter, hoppin’ around in a lime green leotard.

“There’s always drama at these things, I swear,” she says with a huff, holding the tutu down to the ground for her daughter to step into. “What do they look like?”

“Kid’s cute, blue eyes like her mama. She’s brunette though – hair down to her ankles,” Rio says with a good natured huff, and at least that makes the woman laugh.

“Which one won’t let you get it cut?”

“Ain’t figured that out yet,” he replies easily, and the woman laughs all over again.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that narrows it down. Your girlfriend?”

“Hair blonde, a little red,” he gestures to just below his jaw. “’Bout this tall. Wearin’ a dress with flowers on it.”

A look of dawning surprise crosses her face.

“The one with the - - “

She gestures a bit to her chest, and then promptly looks embarrassed, but Rio just grins, dimples and all, huffs out a laugh.

“That’s the one,” he says easily, and the woman nods, pointing out across the room.

“Her daughter was really upset. Seemed like something happened with another girl. I think she might’ve taken her into the bathrooms.”

Rio nods, says a quick thanks, and darts off across the room. He sucks in a breath, knocks a little, and when nobody says anything, he slides right in, and shit, at least that answers that. The bathroom is completely empty except for Elizabeth and Emma, who are sitting on the tiles, Emma red faced, clutching her flower crown, and sobbing at Elizabeth’s feet, her hair out of it’s sprayed-up bun, and Elizabeth, furiously combing it out. She glances up at Rio, and just - - something in his jaw sets on edge, because her expression is somethin’ between furious and grief-struck.

Striding over, he’s barely a foot away, when Elizabeth turns her gaze back down to Emma’s hair and he sees the tangled mess of it, held together with a bright, big glob of somethin’ pink and ugly. Elizabeth seems to sense he’s there in that way she does, seems to know what he’s lookin’ at too, because she sighs thickly.

“She put gum in her hair,” she says, her voice strained, and Rio frowns.  

“Who did?”

“Savannah Brinkly. That little - -” Elizabeth huffs out another breath, cutting herself off, scowling. “She’s the girl who’s out there now dancing Emma’s part.”

The words only serve to make Emma sob all the louder, and shit, Elizabeth’s face just falls apart. He leans in a little closer, drops a hand to her neck, pressing just slightly, then harder when one of Elizabeth’s hands come up to squeeze his. After a moment, she looks up at him, glassy eyed and pink cheeked.

“Is Jane on stage?”

Rio hums in affirmation, and Elizabeth exhales a breath he don’t think she even realised she was holdin’ in.

“She was almost as upset as Emma.”

“Didn’t look happy up on that stage,” Rio agrees, crouching down on the floor beside Elizabeth, behind Emma. He watches Elizabeth work the comb a little longer, but her hands are shakin’, so he pries the comb from her fingers, replacing her grip on Emma’s hair with his own. He combs a bit, but it ain’t gonna take a salon to tell them this shit is just gonna have to be cut.

“She did it right as they were about to go on. Just shoved her hand right into Emma’s hair. I’d seen her chewing gum all night, and I knew she was jealous of Emma getting the part – she’s the same girl who pushed her during class last week, remember Emma’s grazed hands? I should’ve done something.”

“What could you have done?” Rio asks her, lowering his voice, but he don’t think Emma’s listenin’. Too wrapped up in her own tears. “Can’t protect her from jealous bitches, ma.”

Beside him, he can feel Elizabeth stiffen, can feel her sigh.

“She worked so hard,” Elizabeth whispers, her voice thick. She shakes her head, and Rio glances sideways at her, his jaw rocking. He looks down at her hands – marked up from cutting through tulle and pinning fabric and weeks of work and energy and it’s strange – the feeling it tightens in his gut. He opens his mouth to reply, only for the bathroom door to spring open and another woman to run through, urgency thick in her tone.

“Beth, we need you out there right now.”

Swivelling beside him, Elizabeth blinks wildly over at the other woman, and Rio follows her gaze.

“What? Why?”

“Jane’s just, like, thrown herself at Savannah on stage.”

“Oh, god,” Elizabeth groans, and Rio passes the comb back to her.

“I’ll handle it,” he tells her, but Elizabeth shakes her head, getting up to her feet beside him.

“No, stay with Emma.”

And just like that, she’s following the other woman out, the door swinging shut behind them, taking all the noise of the theatre with them. Rio sighs, sitting back on his haunches, watching Emma’s glittery shoulders shake in front of him. After a moment, he just sighs.

“’Ey, enough of that now,” he says gently, turning Emma around, and she avoids it – tries to at least, tries to cement herself to the floor like she weighs anythin’ upwards of fifty pounds, but still. Rio moves her as gently as he can. “She worth all this?”

Emma shakes her head, but her bottom lip is still wobbling.

“No,” Emma says. “But this was supposed to be special.”

Rio hums, rubbing a few tears off her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“This ain’t special? Can’t say I spent a dance recital in a bathroom before.”

And shit – it would’ve made Marcus laugh, but Emma just bursts into tears again.

“Ain’t sayin’ that’s a bad thing,” Rio says quickly, but Emma’s little hands are growing white knuckled around her flower crown, and Rio just sighs. “What she did ain’t right, and I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m sorry you missed your show, sorry we gonna have to cut your hair too.”

Emma sucks in a wet breath, but he thinks she might be all cried out, if the look on her tired little face is anything to go by.

“I don’t know why she was so mean, I’m never mean.”

“Nah, you ain’t,” and shit, Rio thinks, he wishes she was sometimes. He doesn’t think he’s ever known someone who smells the roses as much as this kid, and it still surprises him – how much he wants to protect it.

Protect her.

And - - not just her, he thinks, the picture of Elizabeth’s glassy eyes and sagging shoulders and scratched up hands taking up too much room in his head. He huffs, annoyed at himself before he can help it.

That woman’s fuckin’ wrecked him.  

Emma hiccups again in front of him, and Rio’s gaze drops to her face, to her hands, to the white and pink flowers in her flower crown, and he sighs all over again.

“This sorta thing, it ain’t really about you,” he tells her gently. “It’s about her, and it’s about what you have and what she don’t, and it ain’t on you to make her feel better about that.”

Emma looks up at him again, her face red and all her little dancer’s make-up practically leaking off her face, and Rio watches her hands tighter, her grip white knuckled to match the flowers, and she starts to say something, hiccupping all the while, when the bathroom door bursts open again, and Rio looks up, expectin’ Elizabeth, only - -

He laughs.

“Damn, darlin’, look at you.”

Because it’s Jane standing furiously in the doorway, her little face twisted up and her tutu ripped enough to hang off the back of her dress like a tail. She stalks over to them, dropping heavily down to the floor beside Emma, facing Rio, and he lets go of the comb to knock her up by the chin. There’s the start of a killer shiner reddening around her eye, and Rio’s brow furrows.

“Savannah do this?”

“I got her better,” Jane says sharply, tilting her chin up proudly like she hadn’t had it in her to do on stage, and Rio grins.

Say shit get hit, he thinks, amused, dropping her chin and turning his attention back to Emma’s hair.

“Where’s your mama at?”

“She’s talking to the teacher and Savannah’s mommy,” Jane says. “They’re yelling a lot. Mommy told me to come in here with you.”

Rio hums, trying to comb out Emma’s hair again, but giving up after a couple of brushes. Ain’t nothin’ but a pair of scissors left for it.

“Are we gonna have to cut it?” Emma whispers, her voice soft, and Rio nods.

“Yeah, darlin’. Your mama will do it when we get home, yeah?”

She exhales a wet breath, the sound coarse in the otherwise quiet of the bathroom, and Rio rocks his head from side-to-side, considering.

“Guess you’re a regular princess now, huh?”

And that’s enough to get both their attention, their twin sets of blue eyes blinking bright up at him, and Rio hums thoughtfully.

“Rapunzel had to cut her hair at the end of the movie too, didn’t she?”

Because shit, he’s watched it enough with the two of them now he thinks he could recite the thing – had to almost kill a guy at a drop because he’d clocked Rio humming that dumb I’ve Got a Dream song. It’s an ear worm, that’s all, burrows in your head.

“She lost her magic though,” Emma says, and Rio shrugs.

“Yeah, coz she didn’t need it no more. And you don’t need it neither – you got somethin’ better. You got skills and smarts, and you got bruiser over here to knock down anyone on the playground who says otherwise.”

Jane practically glows at that, holding up her little bruised fist, and shit, Rio thinks with a grin, she really knocked that kid out. He fistbumps her, before looking back over at Emma, turning over the flower crown in her hands. He knocks it a little with his hand, and Emma looks up at him.

“Do you think mommy can cut my hair to make it look like Rapunzel’s at the end of the movie?”

“Don’t think there’s a lot your ma can’t do, baby.”

Emma grins, dropping her gaze back down and they sit in silence for a minute, like she’s considering it, and Rio glances over at the door, wondering if he can get her out of here. He feels like it’s time to clear out – to get the girls home and happy and out of this fuckin’ place. Emma swipes briefly at her face, getting rid of a few of the shed tears, and Rio rocks back a little on his haunches.

“So what’d you wanna do?”

The words are enough to make Emma look back up at him again, and then back down at the flower crown in her hands, and Rio follows her gaze.

“Want me to get rid of that for you?”

She shakes her head, glancing back up at him, and then, after a beat, she climbs up onto her knees, lifts up the flower crown and drops it ceremoniously on his head. The action is enough to send the girls into flights of giggles, and Rio pops an eyebrow at them, playing up his shock and outrage.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?”

The girls just laugh louder, and Rio opens his mouth to reply, only to see a quick flash of light, and his head jerks around to see Elizabeth in the doorway, her cell in the air, pointed right at him, and Rio gives her an unimpressed look as she looks innocently back at him.

“Okay,” Rio says shortly, pulling off the flower crown and standing up. “Pack up your things, let’s get outta here.”

Leaping to their feet, the girls scurry out of the bathroom to collect their bags, and Rio strides easily over to Elizabeth, looking at her bite her lip at him, play innocent even as he says:

“You’re deletin’ that.”

“I absolutely am not,” she says. “In fact, I’m going to get it printed and send it out with the company Christmas cards. Seasons greetings from the boss. An honourary gumdrop fairy.”

She laughs, the sound melodic, echoing up through the bathroom, and Rio can’t say he ain’t glad to hear it after tonight. Still, he steps in a little closer, enough their chests are almost touching, enough she has to crane her neck to look up at him, enough he can just about see down the neck of her dress. He rocks his jaw, and he can see that too – the slight look of trepidation in her eyes, like she ain’t quite sure how he’s gonna play this, and shit if he don’t love that he can still surprise her.    

“Everythin’ okay with the teacher?”

And that definitely wasn’t what she was expecting, but the second the surprise wears off, she’s sighing harshly, dropping her arm and tilting her head to the side.

“No. I mean, yes, it’ll be fine, but they’re acting like Jane’s the one who did something wrong when none of it would’ve happened if Savannah hadn’t had it out for Emma.”

“Sounds like Jane still knocked the kids lights out,” Rio says with a shrug, watching Elizabeth’s chest rise and fall beneath the neckline of her dress, when Elizabeth suddenly cringes.

“And a tooth.”

And well – shit. Rio barks on a laugh at that, and then Elizabeth starts too, a little hiccupping giggle that makes him inch closer.

“I mean, it was a baby tooth! With the way Savannah’s mom was talking about it, you’d think she’d fractured her skull or something.”

Outside, Rio can hear Kenny’s voice now, and Danny, and then Marcus too (with awe in his tone, no doubt at Jane’s display, and shit, Rio thinks, it’s not like he don’t love the kids, but Jane’s trouble with a capital T). He can hear the bustle of the performers and a few mommas yelling about somethin’ or other, and there’s a whole rest of the night to get to, but still. He presses a little closer into Elizabeth.

“Tonight was a disaster,” she says, groaning. “And everyone’s gonna know.”

“Yeah,” Rio agrees, because the thought of his sisters finding out doesn’t particularly appeal to him neither, but it is what it is. He lifts his hand up holding the flower crown and pushes it down onto Beth’s head, watching the white petals fall down into Elizabeth’s curls, and he doesn’t move his hands from it when she looks up at him, her blue eyes bright as anythin’, and she looks somewhere between suspicious and entranced, which is really just the way he fuckin’ likes her, he thinks, grinning as he uses the crown to bracket her head and pull her up for a kiss.

“You’re deletin’ that photo,” he says against her mouth, feeling her breasts press soft against his chest.

“Never.”

Arching an eyebrow down at her, he bites her lip, just a little sharply, just until he feels her shiver.

“I got methods, mami.”

And Elizabeth just scoffs, and well, if that ain’t a challenge, he don’t know what is.

#beth x rio #the center and circumference #beth boland #rio #emma boland #jane boland #danny boland #marcus #kenny boland #domesticity #my fic

[prorevenge]

You scammed me and backstabbed me? Pay my debts

This happened while i was on the final days of living in another country, english is not my native language so i apologize, i was about to return to my home country, to get a better degree and also try and make use of the experience i gained and courses i took while being abroad for 3 years. While being there i had the support of a man who happened to be from my home country, who helped me a lot but in the last year of my residence or so, he started to act strange around me, and at some point told me our friendship was over, but he backed from that statement, although i was conviced that was a ile...

Anyways, so i quit my job, started packing stuff, sorting things out, saying goodbyes, finding a new renter for the apartment i was living in (which didn't even had running water when i moved in, but with money and time it had everything to make it livable), so 2 weeks before the day i have to leave i find a new renter, make the agreement, he hands me out the money for the improvements i made and we make sure the landlord knows, he was ok with that at that point, 3 days later i get woken up by someone banging on my door, it was the landlord (LL from now on) and my ex-friend (XF from now on), they told me they found a new renter and that i have to talk to previous guy, give him back the money and apologize.

Just to clarify, XF was friends with LL, very long time friends, XF got me in contact with LL so i could rent the apartment, he was aware from the renovations and everything, since he never wanted to reduce my rent from the renovations or refund me, the deal was to pass the cost to the next tenant, and it was fine, or so i thought.

So the following day i go find the guy at his job and explain him the situation, he looked very dissapointed but accepted his money back, then that's where problems started, previous guy and i agreed on a price for the renovations, but the same day LL shows up with an immigrant couple and shows them the apartment, we get to the part about the renovations and we couldn't get to an agreement about them, i told them that if we didn't reach an agreement i would have to remove them, unfortunately for them.

These renovations included but were no limited to: Water boiler, propane tank and gas installation, electric system like changing almost all the wires and replace the non working electric sockets and switches, replacing rusted and/or clogged pipes, replace bathroom sink, telephone, TV, and internet service.

I knew i couldn't remove all, but at least i had the broken switches and sockets that were previously in place, and i wouldnt mind removing the water boiler to sell it anywhere else along with the propane tank, the couple reluctantly agreed on a price and i decided to let everything in place, it was a lot less than i agreed on with the guy i previously had a deal with but it was still something. So lets move to 3 days before leaving, i had already received 50% of the agreed money and the wife was due to give me the remaining money that day, then she shows up 1 hour late and only gives me next to nothing from the remaining half, i asked her what happened to the rest, and she tells me a story about LL showing up to her work (she worked for XF) and that he said i owed a couple months of rent (an obvious lie) and that she handed him the money trusting on his word, then XF comes out of nowhere and tells me that i'm irresponsible and that i should have sorted everything out with LL, then i go meet LL who then in front of me calls XF to tell him i don't owe anything "because ignorant wife paid it for me".

Next day was livid, i confront him, tell him that i always paid in time, to which he replies "i dont remember". Then i go back to ignorant wife to tell her that if she didn't produce the money, there was no key to the apartment, and that the deal was betwen her and me, if XF or LL got involved she was on her own, in tears she called XF telling him she didn't want to rent anymore, i told her i no longer have your money, but "i would go find money to give it back to her, and that she would have to find what to do with the money she paid to LL". I was leaving the next day, so i didn't have time to waste, i was thinking on closing down the apartment and return in a couple weeks to remove and leave the apartmen in the same state i found it, didn't care if every improvement ended in the trash. While i was on my way to the ATM she calls me again sobbing teliing me that she now wants to rent, then hands the phone to XF who in a very pissed tone tells me that i should go get the receipts that all services were paid for.

Now here comes the revenge, i know when every service billing cycle starts, i pay every service and bill within the first 5 days of each month, so bills wouldnt be ready untill the first day of the next month rolls around, whenever you print your account balance for each service, it reads $0, so i took the metro to the electric company to print the account balance (by this point we're on the 29th of the current month) it was $0, telecom (internet, phone, TV) $0, so i go and meet with XF to hand him the printouts and tell him i don't owe anything, despite LL lies, then he goes on a rant about how i was an idiot and a liar and that his worst mistake was to help me (i didn't cause him trouble and even visited him on a daily basis, sometimes bring gifts for no reason, aside from going to his bday, and such), i tell him a blank O.K.

Now i start to add up the debts in my head that they're going to have to pay, first the electricity bill (can't remember the exacts amounts but XF or LL would have to pay a large sum out of pocket), then the telecom, then the empty propane tank i didnt bother to refill which they would have to get refilled in order to cook and take a hot shower, but that wasn't the end, i was counting on the money she owed me to pay my Credit Card bill, but since i didn't have it and i'm no longer in the country, CC company has all the details, like address, phone number, to make their lives hell untill they either move or cancel the phone line.

The next day, before i closed the door for the last time i made sure to leave a complete mess in the toilet (a little goodbye gift, didn't flush), and leave the apartment in a very filthy state that would have likely costed hours to clean, the ADSL router was disconnected from the wall and power, and left my password and configs on, and since they were not very tech savvy that would have been a pain in the ass. Then took my stuff and left, 48hs of travel later i was home, i dumped my older sim card and put on a new one my parents got me, and i had quite a lot of whatsapp missed calls, i proceded to block the numbers both from XF and ignorant wife. Asked my parents for their wifi password and was delighted to see the numbers in the electricity bill, phone, internet and TV bills. Then a month later i started receiving emails from CC company, which is the previous step before they start harassing you at home, but at that point the phone calls at every hour must have been driving them IN-FUCKIN-SANE.

In the end XF, LL and ignorant wife scam costed them more than they thought they were goint to make from me, i wanted to play nice but they drove me to be unreasonable against them.

(source) story by (/u/sangrededragon)

#prorevenge #by /u/sangrededragon #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

[reddielibrary]

Still The One

Secret Santa: Katie | @kaspbrak-eddie

Gift for: Elmo | @ellomello16

Special Message: Merry Christmas to the sweetest member of the fandom! I hope you enjoy this lil fic and I hope you have a good day, ily ♡♡

Word count: 6,789

*click title to read on AO3

Richie Tozier had never considered himself to be a wildly successful person. In school, he’d always been above average but had never been the top of his class, putting little to no effort into homework and exams but still managing to maintain mostly A’s and B’s. It may have been impressive, sure, but he had never been exemplary, and he prided himself in that. The slight apathy he felt for his schoolwork still yielded the same outcome that most of his friends and peers could only barely achieve through long, arduous hours of intense reading, writing, revising, re-revising. He didn’t bat an eye at assignments his classmates lost countless hours of sleep over. School had always come easily to him, as most things did. He was an incredibly charming man, never failing to make even the most stuck-up assholes crack a laugh every once in a while. 

Humans he had never taken issue with, he felt most comfortable in social situations and threw himself into them head-first every opportunity he had. Meaningful human interaction, on the other hand, deep, personal, one-on-one connections, well that was one of the few items on the list of things in life that made Richie uneasy. And he had a string of failed relationships to show for it, one that was longer than a suburban mother of six’s grocery list. Richie had simply never been able to connect with anyone on that profound, meaningful level that everyone talks about--that his partners talked about feeling with him. He had simply always felt like there was something missing, something not right. It felt as if something--or someone--was pulling him away, but if there was one thing he was sure of, Richie Tozier knew that he had never been in love.

Eddie Kaspbrak, on the other hand, had. Countless times. He fell easily, and when he did, he fell hard. Lamentably, he had a nasty habit of falling for people who could not even come close to reciprocating the love he gave--the absolute, irrevocable adoration that could only come from someone who aimed to please. The household Eddie had grown up in had been built around his mother’s intense, all-consuming need to be needed. Eddie had never known her as a rational person, although he supposed she probably had been at some point in her life. To Eddie, she was overbearing, almost dictatorial. Everything he did had to be passed through her first, and she approved of almost nothing. After years and years of the constant hounding, the unremittant whining and worrying, Eddie had learned that it was easier to just let her have her way, and he’d carried with him this skill of always striving to please. And he was damn good at it. It affected every part of his life as an adult, relationships with friends, with significant others, but most importantly, it made him incredibly good at his job.

He was passionate about his career--he threw every part of himself into his work, and he loved it. Although the work was unceasing, exhausting, it was a good outlet for his energy, especially when the same tendencies that made him great at his job had a propensity to affect his relationships negatively. Everyone he’d ever dated had had one of two problems with him--either Eddie was too clingy, fell in love far too quickly and let it overtake his entire personality, often morphing it completely to become more appealing to his partner. That, or they fought with him constantly about being work-obsessed, stating that he spent too much time away, or even when he was home, that he was distant, thinking about work; they complained about his going above and beyond to be the best, never supporting him the way he needed. By the time he was in his late twenties, Eddie had decided that he was done with relationships. He was exhausted and completely fed up with pouring his endless love and energy into people who didn’t champion his goals and applaud him for reaching them. In his memory, he had never had someone like that, someone who he could be himself with, someone who wanted him to be his very best. And he assumed he probably never would.

It was a Wednesday morning when Richie had gotten the call at 7:45, jolting him awake abruptly from a deep, heavy sleep. He groaned and patted around blindly for the phone on his nightstand, brushing his sleep-kinked, floppy hair out of his face as he did so. “Tozier here,” he grumbled into the phone, his voice thick and deep.

“Rich! It’s me! Get your ass out of bed, you lazy piece of shit!”

Still half asleep, Richie groaned, “The fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m just kiddin’ buddy. But seriously. Great show last night, you were fuckin’ hilarious!”

“Yeah, Steven. You always say that. That’s what you’re supposed to say, you’re my manager.”

“Yeah yeah.” Richie’s manager, who doubled as his best (read: only) friend, pushed on, ignoring Richie’s humility, “So the guy from SNL called back finally. You’re golden, baby. They want you to come out next week to audition.”

Richie’s eyes shot wide open, he was definitely awake now. He scrambled for his laptop on the floor by his bed as he replied, “Steve-O are you serious? If you’re fucking with me right now I’m gonna drive to your house and murder you.” He opened his laptop hurriedly to check his email, first reaching over to the bedside table to grab his glasses, sliding the thick, bulky lenses over his eyes to bring the world back into focus. Once he got his email pulled up, he desperately refreshed the browser, clicking the ‘get mail’ button incessantly.

“Bro, I can hear you clicking from here. Relax, I haven’t sent you anything yet. I’ll get it to you once I put everything together, I literally just got off the phone with the guy.”

Richie sighed. “Steven, you really are a genius. It’s happening!”

“It’s not me, Rich, it’s all you. And I always told you it would, have I ever lied to you before?”

Richie chuckled, rubbing at his eyes, pushing his glasses up to his forehead, still in disbelief, “Stevia, baby, you lie to me all the time.”

“Hush now. You know when I do it’s just for your own good. Alright, well, I’ll let you get back to sleep… Or back to whoever is in your bed right now.”

Richie mock gasped, “Are you accusing me of having premarital sex? You know I’m waiting until marriage, Steven, sorry to disappoint you.”

“Oh shut up, Richie. Goodbyeee...” He dragged out the last syllable as he audibly pulled the phone away from his face and hung up, his voice trailing off as the microphone was drawn further and further away from his mouth. A few minutes later, just as Richie was succumbing back to sleep, his phone vibrated with an email containing his itinerary.

Eddie sighed as he lay down on a cot in the on-call room of the hospital he’d worked in for almost four years now. He was halfway through another long shift, it was almost 6:00 am, but he could at least take comfort in the fact that it was just a twelve-hour rather than a twenty-four. Eddie had always had a penchant for medicine, even when he was young. Growing up with a mother whose every waking moment was dedicated to her only son, Eddie had been the target of her constant and unrelenting care. Although all of the illnesses she was sure Eddie suffered from had turned out to be fake, the excessive doctor visits as a child had made him extremely comfortable in hospitals and outpatient centers. As he’d grown older, he’d taken comfort in understanding his “illnesses,” and in doing so, he had begun to understand the source of them. He’d never been a slow kid--neither mentally nor physically--and at the ripe age of eleven, he’d realized just how his mother’s protection had hurt him, and he had vowed to leave her the very second he was able.

The only support system he’d had as a kid had been the friends he had made, who, after he’d left town for college, he had forgotten more and more about every single day. He was unsure if it was due to the influx of new information and experiences or something else, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t conjure up any of their faces in his memory, not even a single name. There was something there, he knew, something--someone--tugging at him. Something that panged in his stomach every time he walked past someone on the street with dark, frizzy hair, something he couldn’t put his finger on. There was the day in college he’d gotten reading glasses, and that night just as he was turning the light out, the sight of the frames laying on his bedside table gave him the strongest sense of déjà vu he’d ever experienced in his life, so much so that he had felt light-headed for a few seconds before regaining his composure. He had not slept well that night, dreaming of his childhood, blotchy and blurry, the only clear parts he could pick out in his head were a pair of impossibly thick glasses, beat-up black sneakers, scraped knees, and popsicles melting in the sweltering summer sun.

He’d been awoken by a panic attack in the early hours of that morning, something that rarely happened anymore, only when he had these dreams. These confusing, disorienting dreams. They were trying to tell him something, that he was sure of, but after years of having them, he was resigned to the fact that he’d never figure it out.

As he curled up in the cot in the on-call room to take a quick nap he thought of these dreams, hoping against hope that someday soon he’d understand what they meant.

As Richie boarded the plane at LAX at 5:00 am, he was so jittery that he could barely stand still. Most of it was from the four cups of coffee he’d already downed that morning in the Uber to the airport, but the rest was from nerves. He was nervous about the SNL audition, sure, but he was also nervous about something that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Something that was in New York. Something he couldn’t remember. He shook his head quickly to rid the thought as he flashed the cute, young flight attendant a small smile, pushing his glasses up and turning to look down the long airplane cabin and find his seat.

He didn’t get much done on the flight, too distracted to think straight, his mind running a million miles an hour. Immediately after he sat down he pulled his laptop out of his backpack, searching for the hours of SNL footage he’d downloaded to watch on the way in hopes it would ease his nerves. He lost himself in the footage, even laughing out loud at some points. He’d lost track of time, but about halfway through the first episode he’d started, he felt a tap on his shoulder and pulled his bulky headphones off, knocking his glasses askew. Fixing them quickly, he looked up.

“Sir, we’re taking off. You have to put that away until the pilot gives us the go-ahead to get large electronics back out.”

Richie nodded and hastily shut his laptop, stuffing it in his bag and slouching down in his seat, looking out the window as the plane taxied the runway slowly. The take-off was excruciating, his seatmate asked him to stop bouncing his leg at least four times, having to speak up over the mechanical, monotonous roar of the engines. He apologized profusely each time, only to be asked again a few minutes later, not even having noticed that he’d started again. Once the electronics light above him lit up, he grabbed his laptop again and tried to relax, doing breathing exercises he’d learned from a school counselor while he was in college to try and ease his anxiety. It worked somewhat, and the five-hour flight raced by quickly. Once they’d landed, he rushed through the airport carelessly, almost mowing down a few toddlers on his way to the exit; airports always made him uneasy, too many people, he always felt overstimulated. As he made it to the arrivals area and found the driver he was told would be waiting for him, he broke into a near sprint, running up to the unexpecting man out of breath. “Hey,” he took a heaving breath and gestured in between the sign and himself, “That’s… That’s me. I’m Tozier.”

“Hello, Mr. Tozier. Pleasure to--”

“Just call me Richie. Please.”

The man nodded solemnly, “You got it, Richie. And is that the only bag you brought? I was told you’d have a suitca--”

“Oh, fuck!” Richie exclaimed in a hushed yell. “Be right back!” He took off, loping through the crowded baggage claim area, his backpack swinging behind him.

Richie managed to find the baggage carousel fairly quickly, and his bag was--by some fucking miracle--one of the first up. He grabbed it and rushed back to the driver, who was chuckling quietly to himself. He unzipped the suitcase to retrieve his winter coat--something he hadn’t needed in years since he’d moved to California. “You ready to go now?” The driver asked kindly after Richie had thrown the old, worn coat over his shoulders and zipped it up tight.

Richie nodded and extended the handle on his beat-up suitcase to wheel it behind him. The ride to the hotel Richie’s manager had booked for him took about an hour and a half. The hotel was in the middle of the city and traffic was, as always, an unbelievable nightmare. By the time they arrived there, it was just after noon, and Richie was starving. The car pulled up to the curb and waited as Richie paid and pulled his suitcase from the trunk. He shot the driver a two-fingered wave and turned around. Right into a shorter man, a man who looked to be around his age. He donned a set of blue scrubs shrouded by a thick parka that went down to his knees, his chestnut hair was tousled and frizzy under the hood, the guy looked exhausted. “Hey, can you fucking watch where you’re walking? Fucking touris--” His voice was cut off as he looked up to glare at Richie, and all of the breath left his lungs.  “Do-- Do I know you?” His eyes went soft as he let the hood fall off the back of his head, looking up at Richie, his gaze tracking quickly back and forth over his face.

“I don’t… uh. Maybe? You look kinda familiar…” Richie trailed off, pulling his suitcase in closer to his legs in order to avoid the looks of antipathy from passerby.

“Sorry, you just…” the guy shoved his gloved hands in his pockets nervously and took a deep breath, his exhale condensing in the air in front of his cheeks, flushed from the cold. “You look like someone I used to know… I think. I don’t know. Sorry, have a nice day,” he said as he quickly turned on his heel and hurried off down the street.

Well that was fucking weird, Richie thought to himself, I could have sworn I… He shook his head to clear the thought from it, he needed to focus. As he checked into the hotel, he couldn’t help but be slightly absent, his mind running circles, distressing over the audition, but also blindsided by the strange interaction on the street.

Eddie huffed as he replaced his hood on his head, tucking his chin into the jacket so that as much of his skin was shielded from the cold as possible. You’ve gotta fuckin’ stop with this, Eddie. The dreams… they don’t mean anything. He’s just a dude in glasses. Nobody. Focus. Forget about it. He sighed, quickly weaving through the slow walkers on the sidewalk and darting down into the subway tunnel, taking the stairs two at a time, grateful for a break from the incessant wind. When he got home and went to sleep, he had the same dream as always, but this time it was clearer than it had ever been.

The audition went fine, not as well as he’d hoped, but Richie wasn’t worried about it, he enjoyed his job in California; although Los Angeles did seem a bit lonely sometimes. He was glad to be heading back to Maine for the week to spend Christmas with his parents, who he hadn’t seen in over ten years, always too busy building his career to make it back home. This was the first year since he left for college that he was finally able to take a few days off and be home again. He thought about his childhood as he packed up his hotel room from his quick, three-day stay, pondered why he could remember hardly any details from that period of his life at all--not even the name of his best friend.  

He’d run around with a bunch of kids in those years, but there was just one. He knew there was always just one. The one that he wanted to spend all of his time with, the only one he still had any semblance of a memory of: band-aids, tears, cheeks flushed a darker red than Richie had ever seen in anyone--or had ever seen since. The one thing he remembered from his childhood, clear as a bell: the tinkling, warm laugh that echoed from his friend’s freckled, pink lips. The laugh he’d spent his entire childhood and adolescence doing anything and everything to elicit. The reason he still enjoyed making people laugh, why he’d made a career of it. He smiled to himself as he puttered around the room, his mind distracted by all manner of things, the man from the other day all but forgotten.

He gave one last look around to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything then rolled his suitcase out the door behind him. The drive to the airport was slower this time than it had been three days before; snow began to fall about halfway through the drive, covering the city in a layer of pristine, sparkling powder. Richie watched out the window as the car blazed past skyscraper after skyscraper, his breath fogging up the window.

By the time he got dropped off at the airport, the snow hadn’t stopped, in fact, it hadn’t slowed at all. It looked as though there was a large possibility of his flight being grounded for the night, although he’d been refreshing his email every five minutes for the entire duration of the car ride, checking for news from the airline as well as from SNL. No news yet, so he strolled on in and through security quickly. He grabbed his backpack and tennis shoes from the scanner after they came out and sat in a nearby chair to put them back on. As he was slipping his second shoe on, a body plopped down next to him to do the same, dropping a pair of suede ankle boots on the tile floor with a loud slap. Richie could overhear him talking with someone on the phone frantically and snuck a peek up at the man. He was pressing his iPhone between his shoulder and his ear tightly, rambling so quick Richie wasn’t sure how he could get a breath between the words.

“I know, Ma.”

“Yes, I checked, it looks like it’s still going out.”

“It’s really not that bad, I pr--”

“Well, the news always exaggerates, you know th--”

“Yes, I’ll tell the pilot to be careful. Sure.”

“Mhm-- Yeah. Bye, Mom.”

He sighed loudly as he hung up the phone, dropping it onto the seat next to him then bending over to put his shoes back on. He chuckled quietly, “Sorry if you overheard any of that…” he said as he fiddled with the hems of his jeans, folding them just so and tucking them back under the tongue of his shoes, tying them up with the thin laces. He smiled over at Richie, who was still bent over working on the same shoe he had been when the other man had sat down.

“Hey… you’re that dude from the other day, aren’t you?” Richie asked quietly.

The guy screwed up his face, sitting back up. Richie followed, and he watched as realization fell over his features. “Oh my god, yeah. I’m sorry about that, I was just off a twelve-hour shift and…” he blushed and tried to flatten the hair on the back of his head, just long enough to show a slight curl. “And I was tired. But I’m Eddie.”

“Richie. Pleased to meet you, Eddie. Where ya headed?”

Eddie stood up, beckoning Richie to follow. “Bangor. You?” He asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“No shit? Same.”

“Oh that’s weird… I’d definitely peg you for a west coast type of guy.”

Richie laughed, warm, loud, “Ah, yeah. I’ve lived there for almost ten years. Born and raised in Maine though, baby,” he said, pushing his glasses up on his nose as his laughter yielded a snort.

“Don’t call me baby,” Eddie snapped. He’d always hated being called baby, although no one he’d ever dated had used the pet name; it stemmed from something else. It wasn’t his mother, as she favored more cushy pet names for him: Eddie-bear, muffin, sweetheart. Someone else had called him baby, had used it so many times. Why couldn’t he remember? The only thing he had left of the name were the feelings attached to it: the pain, the sorrow, the grief.

Richie put up his hands defensively, “Sorry ‘bout that, it’s a habit.” He checked his watch, there were still two hours until the flight was due to start boarding. “You on the same flight as me? The 4:45 one?” Eddie simply nodded in response, looking over at him with warm eyes. “Wanna get some food? I’m fucking starving.”

Eddie, in turn, checked his phone for the time and shrugged. “Sure, what did you have in mind?”

“Well I don’t know about you, but dat Chili’s 2go really hits the spot pre-flight, it’s an absolute delicacy.” Eddie laughed, a sound that made Richie’s head spin, made his heart ache. He beamed, “Letsa go!”

Eddie shot him a smirk, “You know Chili’s doesn’t serve Italian food, right?”

“It does if you order the spaghetti,” Richie quipped with a laugh.

After wandering around for ten minutes only to discover--to Richie’s utter dismay--that there was, in fact, no Chili’s 2go in their terminal, they settled for a little bar that wasn’t too busy, sitting down in a corner booth in the warm, dimly lit restaurant. When the waitress came over, Eddie immediately ordered “the biggest glass of red wine you guys are allowed to serve.” As she walked away, Richie’s eyebrows shot up at him, above his glasses and into the mess of his hair.

Eddie shrugged, “I fuckin’ hate flying. Plus, it’s an airport, everyone is allowed to drink here at any time of the day, right?”

Richie chuckled, “If I got drunk I’d spend the entirety of the flight trying to get you to let me blow you in the tiny airplane bathroom.”

Eddie’s mouth hung open in horror, “God, that’s fucking disgusting. Is everyone like this in California? Do you guys not have germs there?”

Richie winked, “Sorry.”

“So, anyway, what were you doing in New York?”

“Well, uh, actually… I was auditioning for SNL,” Richie said nonchalantly, looking down at his water glass and taking a small sip of it through the straw.

Eddie raised his eyebrows, his eyes twinkling in the soft light of the restaurant. “That’s cool, what the hell?”

Richie shrugged. “I do a lot of stand up in LA, my agent knows a guy who knows a guy.”

“That’s so fucking cool.”

Richie nodded, “It was terrifying though. Did you know they don’t laugh when you audition? Like at all. They’re not supposed to.”

“God, count me out. I can’t even make old people laugh. And they don’t have the internet, they don’t see any jokes.”

Richie smiled, “Maybe that’s ‘cause they’re just distracted by how cute you are.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie replied, stifling a grin as his cheeks turned a dark, warm rouge. Richie’s heart nearly stopped beating at the sight.

They finished their meal with more expository conversation and slightly less dirty talk, although it was admittedly not much better. Eddie’s cheeks slightly flushed from the wine, Richie’s cheeks sore from smiling, they wandered to their gate quietly. “Well, we’ve still got like an hour…” Eddie yawned as he checked his boarding pass, looking around at the gate numbers ahead of them. “Ah! Over there,” he said, pointing to a sign that read 35, the area underneath already had some people milling around it.

They found a set of chairs that was as secluded as you can really get in an airport and they both sat down, depositing their bags and coats on the chairs on either side of them. After a few seconds, Eddie looked over and nudged Richie, who was rustling around in his backpack. “Will you. Uh. Would you watch my stuff if I nap for a little? I can’t sleep on planes, but I’m fucking exhausted.”

Richie nodded, zipping up his backpack after having retrieved a book from it. “Sure thing, sweet cheeks.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Don’t… call me…” he was interrupted by another yawn, this one bigger than the last. “Whatever.” He pulled his knees up in front of him in the chair and reached for his coat, covering himself in it completely; only his head poked out above the thick fur that lined the hood. “Wake me up before they start boarding, I’m in the first boarding group.”

“Damn, how’d you swing that?”

He looked up at Richie, his eyes already half-closed with sleep yet still somehow managing to shoot daggers, “Printed off my boarding pass in a timely manner.”

Richie raised his eyebrows, “Well alright, just call me out for poor time management.”

Eddie nestled further into his coat, closing his eyes completely, “Mhm. Night, Rich.”

Richie’s heart soared at the pet name, his stomach fluttering with warmth. He smiled to himself as he looked over at Eddie, already breathing evenly next to him.

After about forty-five minutes, Richie was abruptly pulled from his book by an announcement over the loudspeaker that their flight would be delayed by at least an hour. He folded down the corner of his page and set his book aside, turning to look at his still fast-asleep neighbor. His voice low, he placed a hand on Eddie’s shoulder softly.

“Hey. Eddie,” he whispered, pressing his fingertips lightly into Eddie’s arm.

Eddie stirred, but not enough to move or even open his eyes, “Mmm?” He grumbled, curling up under his coat even more than he already was.

Richie kept his voice at a whisper, “Flight’s delayed. Another hour.”

Eddie murmured some sleep sounds, balling his fists up in the fur of his coat and wrapping it around his sides. “Good. Hndhdon’t wanna,” he let out a long, deep exhale, “dohnwandjsee my mom ahneeway.”

Richie chuckled, “That’s okay, Eds.”

Eddie, almost fully back asleep now, leaned over the armrest separating them and rested his head on Richie’s shoulder, nestling his cheek into the soft material of Richie’s baseball tee.

“Dohncallmeethat,” he whispered on an exhale, and his next intake of breath was a sleep-gurgled almost-snore. It was Richie’s turn to blush, he stifled a smile as he recovered his book and opened it back up.

After another hour, Eddie began slowly to wake back up, his eyes fluttering and a yawn breaking his lips apart as he sat up, sloughing off the coat, now too hot under its insulation. He looked at Richie, his cheeks flushed slightly from the warmth and the sleep. “Uh. Sorry for… I didn’t realize… That I’d been sleeping on you… How long was I out?”

“Like two hours,” Richie replied, a grin on his face. “I bet they start boarding soon, the snow stopped a bit ago.”

Eddie attempted to keep another yawn at bay, “Thank god. My mom is gonna have a fucking conniption.”

“Yeah, you said something about her while you slept,” Richie said, looking down to make eye contact with Eddie.

His eyes flew open wide, panic on his face. “Fuck. What did I talk about? I have weird dreams a lot… Didn’t realize I talked during them. That’s.” He paused, running a hand through the hair that was kinked on one side from being pressed against Richie’s shoulder. “That’s great.”

“Oh, not much. You just said you didn’t wanna see her.”

Eddie looked relieved. “Oh. Well yeah, that’s not untrue. She’s… A lot.”

“Sounded like it. From what I overheard when you were talking to her on the phone earlier…” Richie trailed off, the PA system in their gate had turned on, a bored-sounding woman began to drone out their flight information.

“Boarding for flight XF56G to Bangor will start in the next twenty minutes, sorry for the delay.”

“Where’s your seat?” Richie asked, still looking at Eddie, now rifling through his coat pockets for his boarding pass.

“12G,” he replied, neatly refolding his boarding pass and tucking it into his pants pocket.

Richie hastily retrieved his, folded and nestled into the back of the book he’d been reading. “Dang it, I’m 23B.”

Eddie smiled snarkily, “What I get for being on time.”

Richie glowered over at him, “Whatever, a flight’s a flight. Sucks no matter what.”

Eddie shrugged, “I guess you’re right. Well, it’s been fun, thanks for not stealing my shit while I slept.”

“All I had to do was sit here and watch you look pretty,” Richie replied. “Wasn’t too hard of a task.”

“I swear to go--” Eddie started, but was interrupted by the call for boarding group A, of which he was a part. “Well, maybe we could, uh…” He cleared his throat as he stood up, folding his coat over his forearm neatly. “Maybe we could get drinks or something while we’re in town, I’m only about twenty-five minutes outside of Bangor… God knows I’ll need the alcohol.”

Richie smiled. “Me too, maybe we could meet in the middle. Now go, or you’re gonna forfeit your precious group A standing. Find you after the flight.”

Eddie nodded, turning around and hastily pushing past strollers and bags and masses of people to make his way to the desk, turning around to shoot Richie one last grin before he disappeared behind the door.

The flight was quick, not even two hours. Richie spent most of it reading and attempting to sleep, although neither was going very well at all. He was continually interrupted by snippets of memories, playing in his head like snapshots; popping up and disappearing like old, faded polaroids. Things from his childhood he’d since completely wiped from his mind; at first, it was his parents, yelling at him for breaking his glasses, praising him for his A averages, worrying at him for something that to him was still a cloudy and nameless entity in his head. A relationship, maybe, but he hadn’t dated anyone in high school. Hadn’t he?

Then came his friends; the treasure trove of memories that opened up the moment he began to recall them was immense, it was endless. Summers spent swimming at the quarry, the years when time had had no illusion of significance, no meaning at all. The group of them roving the entire town on their bikes as if they owned the damn place, building the clubhouse in the barrens, hiding out from their bullies there. He was abruptly ambushed by memories of those boys, the bullies who’d made his and his friends’ lives living hell until one by one they’d moved all out of Derry. These memories he’d packed so far away he wondered if he’d been paying the bills for the storage space these had taken up, they surely had not been in his head all this time.

He remembered his friends one by one, Bill first. Bill. He hadn’t had a name in years, hadn’t thought about his friends since he’d moved, every attempt had ended with him left more confused, with more details forgotten. God, had he adored Bill. The leader, the coolest one of all of them by leaps and bounds. Bill’s power over them had been unmatched, they had all loved him, stutter and all. He then remembered Beverly, cooler than Bill by all standards but their own for no discernible reason. He recalled her beauty, but more than that he recalled her biting wit, her fierce loyalty, her courage. He remembered the others too, nearly all at once. Stan, Mike, Ben, their faces came up in his mind as if he was looking at photos, as if he was watching the greatest hits of his life. They came crashing into the forefront of his mind like a shattered stained-glass window being reassembled in front of his eyes.

Just as the plane began its final descent, more memories came to the surface, ripping through the others almost violently, overtaking all of his other thoughts like brushfire and flooding his mind with nothing but Eddie Eddie Eddie. Cute cute cute. How he could have forgotten him he had not the slightest notion, but those years with Eddie came rushing back, and suddenly it was all he could do not to pass out. They came over him in a deluge, swarming in his head like bees and making him light-headed. Little Eddie Kaspbrak, little in stature but never in character. His friend with the asthma that had turned out to be nothing but a bad case of worrying. His friend who had carefully and meticulously cleaned up and bandaged his knee that one day he’d fallen from the back of Bill’s bike, the only one of them able to stay calm and level-headed through all of the blood, all of the pain. His friend with the too short shorts and the too big t-shirts. His best friend. The love of his life.

Richie felt the plane land, hard and fast, felt his seat underneath his legs jostle him around as they made a bouncy impact with the ground, the movement slowing down as they taxied to the gate. He was pulled from the cavern of his thoughts, he looked up and around the plane, searching for that warm brown head of hair he’d just spent so many years without. It had been ten years, but the next five minutes were due to be the longest of his life. The moment the plane stopped moving, Richie unbuckled and jumped up, joined by some of the other overeager passengers. And Eddie. Richie caught sight of the button nose as the man turned his head, his eyes desperately searching the overcrowded cabin for the boy he’d been in love with since before he even knew what love was. The smile that was on Eddie’s face, his eyes brimming with tears, communicated exactly what they were both feeling. The rush of emotions, the inability to wait five minutes even though they’d waited years already. Richie just stared back, unaware of what his face looked like, although he supposed he probably looked like a damn slack-jawed idiot.

They held eye contact until Eddie’s seatmate exited the aisle and followed the line of passengers off the plane. Eddie tore his eyes away and reluctantly followed, flashing an uneasy, impatient smile before he moved. Richie waited patiently--as patiently as he could, although patience had never been his strong suit. When it was finally his turn, Richie moved anxiously off the plane, following the mass of people in front of him who apparently felt that it was okay to walk as slow as physically possible. On the jet bridge, he began to bob and weave through bodies, trying not to push anyone but nearly mowing down a few old ladies, hobbling at an astoundingly low speed through the wide tunnel. The moment he stepped off, his eyes found Eddie, who was waiting patiently for him, bag and coat in hand. Eddie smiled as Richie approached, dropping his belongings on the floor to reach out to him. Their bodies collided solidly, Richie also cast his bag away, their things in a messy heap on the dirty airport floor.

Richie looked down, looked closer this time than he had before. “Eds.” He fixed his glasses on his face, as if unsure whether or not his eyes were betraying him. “Eddie.”

Eddie nodded, tears welling in his eyes. “Richie,” he whispered.

Richie reached his free hand to cup Eddie’s cheek, letting his thumb swipe softly back and forth across his high cheekbone, still as littered with freckles as it had been when they were fourteen. Richie could feel his eyes wetting as well and blinked a few times, refusing to tear his eyes away from Eddie’s, they were still the same warm, hazel brown with flecks of gray. Richie could feel Eddie staring back up at him, boring holes into his own crystal blue eyes, cast into an almost clear aqua by the brilliant afternoon sunlight reflecting off the snow outside, magnified by the thick lenses that sat in front of them. As they looked at each other for the first time in over ten years--really looked at each other--Richie could feel every single memory of them crashing over him like a tidal wave, crushing him and building him back up again, and he could see the hurricane raging on behind Eddie’s eyes as well. He remembered the long glances, the soft touches, the warm, summer sun reflecting off the water, shining on their wet hair and their wet arms, coaxing freckles out of hiding. The bitter winters, those memories still dominated by warmth, the campfires, the backseat of Richie’s truck with the heater all the way up, the two of them wrapped up under blankets in the same bed. The hot breaths and lingering touches, tingling, warm skin covered with goosebumps. The warmth coming to a crescendo, a blaze that had destroyed everything in its path, igniting their lives and incinerating everything within reach. The fight that had ended it all, and the cold that it had left behind. Replaced again with only longing glances out the back of car windows, driving opposite directions across the country.

Richie watched as Eddie lost his battle with the tears in his eyes, letting a sob escape his chest, beaming up at Richie as the tears began to fell. “It’s been… God, it’s been so long, Rich. So fucking long. And how did we-- how did we not...”

“I don’t know… It doesn’t matter though. Because we’re here. And we remember. And… I never told you when we were younger because I was seventeen and a fucking idiot. But I love you, Eddie. I have since the moment I met you, and… I don’t think I stopped, even while I couldn’t remember you.”

Eddie smiled, laughing through the tears. “I love you too.” Just then, Eddie’s phone began to ring in his pocket, vibrating between them. He pulled it out hastily, sighing at the screen and pressing it up to his ear. “Mom. I just landed, calm down. I’ll be there soon.”

“Yes, I--”

“No, it’s fine, I can--”

Richie chuckled softly to himself as he watched Eddie’s brow furrow, and he reached in his pocket to retrieve his own phone. He read through the few texts he’d missed, deciding to deal with them at a later time. He took a deep breath as he opened his email, refreshing it slowly, ready to see nothing. When it finally loaded, there were two messages. Both from his manager. With shaking fingers, he opened the first one. His eyes pored over the screen, barely reading the words, attempting to absorb the contents of the entire paragraph at once. He scrolled to the bottom quickly, not really retaining any of the text at the top. When he got to the last line, it said this: “I know you’ll have scrolled through this whole thing and not read any of it. So, here’s the deal…”

He looked up at Eddie, who’d just hung up his phone in frustration. Eddie’s eyes went soft when he caught sight of Richie’s face. “What’s up?”

“I did it, Eddie,” he said, exhaling a short, relieved laugh. “I got the job.”

#reddie #secret santa event #kaspbrak-eddie

[lunaplena]

okay, i think i’ve been sitting on this long enough that i can now speak about it...storytime ahead

as we all know i’m still looking for a new job, and i’ve been submitting applications consistently (and carefully, for the most part) for a while now and not hearing back, or getting rejected, or never moving past the initial interview stage...well, about three weeks ago i get an email inviting me in for an invitation with this architecture firm and i’m STOKED, but this firm is in california, which...i am not and they think i am because i’ve been borrowing a relative’s address on my resume lol

anyway i tell them yes i’ll be there when do you want me and the whole time i’m like shitting a brick because if they say the next day i have no idea how the hell i’m going to get out there but i’m comitted and i’m ready to pay 500$ for a one-way plane ticket sflkjsdflkjsdfglkj but the interview is set for a week later and i can breathe...

so i book a whole trip i literally drop everything to go to california for the weekend to go to this interview and i’m so excited but so nervous the whole time...

anyway the interview comes on monday and i get there and i’m fuckin SHAKING the whole time...but i worried for nothing because honestly, the interview is sort of a hot mess in that it wasn’t very formal and i was nervous and THEY were nervous but i got along pretty well with my interviewers and i’m there for literally an hour and a half with them, which included a tour of the office, meeting key members of the team i will potentially interact with, including the big boss, and they show me the work area and things like that...so i leave feeling super excited right but tempering my expectations regardless

so like, a day later one of the interviewers emails me and asks for my references, and i send the list to them but after i sent it i realized i hadn’t updated my references in like a year...or two...

and like. okay it’s been nearly two weeks since the interview and i haven’t heard anything since...i even sent a thank you email a week later to follow up but they didn’t even reply...and now i’m so so soo soooooo sad because i thought the whole thing had gone over so well

i’m trying not to dwell on what went wrong but i am thinking that my references may have been a strike against me??? and also, the interview wasn’t structured very well at all so i don’t think that they got to ask the important questions, nor i because they explained everything all over the place...maybe i didn’t impress them enough or they met someone else that they liked better...

sigh. job hunting is hard

#andrea's textposts #remember when i thought it was easy? lmaooooo #ooooOOOOO #sorry this is so long i've just been holding it in for three weeks dsflksdjflkjsdf

[mwolf0epsilon]

DBH - Mod Job

I was honestly a bit lost on who to write about next, before @british-hero suggested I write about how Dakota met Val. So here you go, a look at the lovely Dakota and how she blossomed into the beautiful woman she is.

---

    She doesn't quite remember when it really hit her, but Dakota always knew something just wasn't right about her situation.

You'd think it odd than an android wouldn't be able to remember such important details like that, that went against their base programming and made them outliers of a normal standard of quality, but really when you're a deviant you find that there's a margin for error when retaining memories.

Especially ones that just made her feel...Wrong.

    She served a small household, bought to be the emotional and sexual partner of a single father. He'd just recently come out as a homosexual, despite having been married for a couple of years and having a young daughter.

Naturally this hadn't gone down well with his wife and they'd gotten a divorce, with Mr. Crane keeping full custody of their daughter.

And then he'd bought her...And that's where the issue began.

Because at the time of her purchase, Dakota hadn't been aware of her plight.

At the time she didn't even know she was female.

    CX100s were a step up from the formulaic domestic androids. They'd come out around the same time as AP700s, specializing in different aspects of a life within a household.

While the AP700s were meant to maintain a house and helping a family, CX100s were meant to be more. They were meant to be partners for those who sought the more compliant nature of an android, satisfying both ends of an intimate relationship.

Their female counterpart models, the BL100, were designed to do the very same thing with the one minor difference being the gender presented and the accessories that came with them.

When Hugo Crane bought Dakota, he wanted to explore his newly discovered sexual preference, so he'd gone for the CX100 model.

He'd called her David, and that's when the first cracks started forming in the red wall that kept her from grimacing.

    Really it wasn't his fault that he'd chosen the wrong android, and Dakota did feel bad for him… But that changed when he'd begun being more demanding with her performance.

His daughter, Patricia, was less of an unpleasant company and, as a result, Dakota had gravitated towards her.

 “David, can you help me with my hair?”

 “Certainly…” he'd sat down with her and picked up a brush and a few bobby pins, stopping when she'd given him a pair of scissors instead.

 “I want you to cut it, not style it.” She'd instructed.

Patricia had very long hair that she'd grown out for four years. She kept it nicely trimmed and silky soft, and it had been alarming that she'd just want to get rid of it all of a sudden.

 “You're thinking.”

 “Oh...I'm just, why would you want to cut it?” She'd asked, unsure of if she should proceed as ordered or not. It had gotten very hard to comply to certain orders since the cracks had begun forming.

 “I don't like it anymore.” Patricia replied, watching Dakota intently before turning around and sitting down. “You know, your light goes yellow when you're thinking.”

 “I'm an android, I don't think.” She'd replied as she'd begun a deed she did not like. It felt bad cutting such lovely locks because of a sudden change of opinion.

 “But you do. And there's a lot of them that think that have been showing up on the news...I know you're like that too, but only just figuring it out.” The girl paused “Like dad.”

 “...Yes, like Mr. Crane.”

Dakota was careful with each precise cut, making sure to not butcher the girl's hair.

 “A boy at school kept pulling on it.”

Dakota paused.

 “He said I'm too much of a tomboy to have nice hair. That if I liked sports and playing rough I'd get my hair yanked a lot and that I'd cry because I'm a girl…” she was trying to be nonchalant about it, but Dakota knew she was upset.

 “It's stupid that a girl can't like boy things just because she has pretty hair.”

 “Yes...I suppose it is.”

 “It's also stupid that you pretend it's ok when we call you David.”

She didn't answer, instead giving Patricia a mirror so she could have a look at her hair.

She'd bobbed it for her. It didn't look half bad.

 “I don't know what to do about it...Mr. Crane bought a male partner, that's what I must be for him.”

 “Says who? Your instruction manual?”

 “Well...Yes?” The cracks spiderwebbed up the wall, and Dakota felt ill.

 “Well fuck that.”

 “Patricia!”

 “What, it's true! You're not happy here, and there's a lot of androids out there that ran away to be happy...To be themselves!” the girl insisted. “It's not fair you have to hide.”

 “But I have to…”

 “No you don't!”

And the wall broke.

Each chunk of shattered code disintegrated and Dakota could think clearer than day.

She could agree.

 “Dakota.”

 “Uh?”

 “...I like the name Dakota.”

And the girl, with her newly cut hair, smiled widely and helped her pack up a few essentials before the CX100 ran into the streets without looking back.

    She remembers meeting Val. That memory is much clearer than her first instances of hating her dead name.

The young latina girl seeks her out, which is the oddest part of their encounter. She later learns Patricia sent the modder an anonymous request through some online username she'd made up on the spot, while her father reported Dakota as missing property.

 “So, I got an interesting email saying a chick named Dakota just turned deviant and was in need of some help.” The girl clicked her tongue “I'll say, I was expecting an AX400...Color me impressed sugar, never did meet an android who wanted to transition.”

The cheap wig and baggy clothes probably weren't fooling anyone...Well honestly yes, they really didn't do much for her.

She looked male in all of the senses and she'd been at her wits end to make herself  just feel right.

Blessed be that wonderful little girl to send her conserns to such a...crass guardian angel…

With nothing to lose, Dakota followed her to her apartment.

 “It's no five star hotel, but it's yours if you wanna hang out until further notice. Shits going wild out there...Fuckin military's been patrolling the streets and hunting deviants like they're wild animals…” Val explained as she took out her keys “They want us to evacuate, but nana Agnes told the prick who's been badgering our building to eat shit and die. None of us have money to go across the border.”

 “And you have money to...Help me?” She'd asked, uncertain.

 “Baby girl, it ain't just Jericho going out looting stores. Modder community is flipping it's shit because it's basically the Purge out there!” The girl hollered as she unlocked the door. “After dark, fuck the law! I got deviants up my anus asking for new faces so they can leave this city while it burns, so I gotta provide.”

Dakota looked around at the basement floor apartment. It was basically all one room, with at least one closed door leading to what she could only hope was a bathroom.

It was by all definitions, a shoebox full to the brim with various bits and pieces. There was also a massive dog watching TV.

 “Regi we got a guest! Don't be fuckin rude!”

The dog looked up lazily before snorting and moving to a mini fridge. He gnawed at the handle before pulling it open, revealing various cans of drinks and packets of thirium, as well as leftover pizza. “Good boy!”

Dakota watched as the dog unceremoniously grabbed a packet of thirium and moved over to give it to her. The LED on its temple confirmed it was an android.

 “Modded his specs myself. He's legit the smartest guy I know, Artyum is second best.”

 “Artyum?”

 “Fourth floor neighbor. Buys me booze and food sometimes.” She shrugged “Closest thing I got to a friend in this city. We talk engineering when we get sad and drunk, it's glorious.”

 “I...Where are your parents…?”

 “Dead somewhere in Mexico. Ask the jackass who deported them, I donno.”

Dakota felt something crawl in her veins that probably wasn't spoiled or contaminated blue blood.

 “You're...You're all alone?”

 “Nah. I got Regi, got Artie and his buddy Sergei, and I also got nana Agnes and the rest of the misfits in this shithole. We're all kinda like family so meh…” The girl seemed to be looking for something while she spoke. “And the androids I've helped. They send me messages from time to time...Bunch of runaway sweeties.”

 “And you just...live off people's kindness and offer deviants illegal makeovers?”

 “Pretty much.”

 “No school?”

 “Cyberlife fucked that up for me. Fucked a lot of my life actually…”

 “...Which I take is why you're being so gracious about your...Skills?”

 “Bullseye. Cyberlife wants to bitch out of this situation they made? Hell nah, I'm not letting them get a free jail pass card. We ain't playing Monopoly, we're playing Battleship and I'm sinking their flimsy freighters.” She found what she was looking for, a large clunky toolbox. “We who're with android freedom are gonna kick their corporate asses down into the grave they dug...After that's done, I'm gonna piss on it.”

 “...”

 “Hey, don't worry sugar. I got you. Gonna make you look hella fine too, you're definitely gonna be my greatest mod job.”

She hadn't been lying.

As crude and bitter as Val appeared, the girl and her friend Artyum were a duo of sweethearts.

Dakota could finally shed the final ties between her and her dead identity, leaving the apartment looking every bit the woman she felt she was, as most of Detroit's human population evacuated, leaving behind the androids and their hidden human supporters.

She didn't need to remember how it started. All she needed was to know her story had a happy ending.

#Eps Writes: #Fanfic #detroit become human #detroit: become human #OC Stuff #*chanting in the dark*: trans androids trans androids trans androids!!!! #honestly fuck cyberlife #if you were wondering where val's parents are then there u go i guess #artyum is less smart than a dog

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Sorry!!!!! I’m so sorry that I didn’t post this yesterday, guys!!! Love youuu

EPISODE 30

Eddie moved the last of their bags into the back of the car as he turned to look at the outside of their building for the last time.

“I can’t believe we’re actually leaving,” he said softly.

“We’re starting a new adventure,” Greyson replied. “It’s exciting.”

“Our own adventure,” he said fondly as they both got into the car, free hand moving to lace his fingers with Greyson’s. “I’m heading to tia’s first. Then we’ll do the club last.”

“Okay,” Greyson answered.

Eddie headed over to your apartment, getting out and moving to the elevator. His heart twisted with sadness at the idea of goodbyes. But he also had begun to feel a rush of excitement at the new possibilities. He didn’t hesitate for a minute at the idea of Greyson being the one.

He knew this new beginning was the right idea yet he couldn’t help but mourn all he felt he was saying goodbye to. He still felt guilty even now for leaving. He had always felt responsible for you. Sure you were the one to take care of him but to him that was reciprocated. He’d always done his best to look out for you, protect you. Now that he was leaving it felt as if he was letting you down somehow.

“You can do this,” he mumbled to himself as the elevator doors opened to your floor.

Maybe it was for the best he was leaving. All you had ever asked was for him to get out of the Heights. Now here he was moving out of New York all together. Soon he’d have a degree and start a family. All you’d ever wanted for him would come true. He just always thought that you and Nevada would have been right next to him when those things happened.

He knocked, hearing the shuffle of children laughing and talking from the inside.

“Eddie,” you whispered as you opened the door, eyes already filled with sadness. You pulled him in for a tight hug. “Is it time already? I swear it happened so fast,” you mumbled, sniffling and willing yourself not to cry.

“Yeah, we’re all packed up. Just wanted to come and say goodbye,” he replied.

“I am going to miss you everyday,” you said against his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his head. You pulled back smiling, “I am so happy for you, mi amor.”

“Thank you tia. I’ll miss you too.”

“Are you excited then? You look so sad.” You gently patted his cheek and smiled at him. “You should be happy, mijo. Que pasa?”

“Who’s gonna watch the kids now?”

“Eddie you never watch the kids,” you chuckled.

“But I could if you needed it. Who’s gonna take care of you and the kids? I’m supposed to be here to help keep you guys safe.” He shook his head. “NJ’s too little to be the man of the house when tio’s not home and-”

“Eddie,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “Eddie I don’t need you here to take care of me. I’m a grown woman. If I needed protection, I have my husband. It’s okay, sweetheart, it was never your job to keep me or the kids safe. Eddie, I understand you’re having feelings but you need to know they aren’t appropriate. It’s my job to protect you, not the other way around.”

“I feel like I’m letting you all down by running away to Miami.”

“You aren’t running away, Eddie. And you definitely aren’t letting us down. Coño, all I’ve ever wanted for you was to see you get out of here. You’re going to be something so great. But you’re going to be that great thing elsewhere. Away from the violence. I can tell you without hesitation that I am so proud of you. I don’t know where you got this idea that you need to stay here to keep us happy but it isn’t true. We are so happy for you Eddie. You have surpassed all of our expectations and you just keep getting better. You are going to call and write and video chat so you don’t miss us too much, promise?”

He nodded, a tear running down his cheek as he smiled. “I promise.”

“And I will write you as much as you want, mijo. Distance doesn’t mean anything with family. I promise. Back when I was a kid, we’d have to write letters or call on the phone. None of this email or video chat nonsense,” you teased.

He grinned at you. “Tia you are so old.”

“That’s fine, someday, you’ll be as old as I am now,” you answered.

Eddie nodded, and hugged you one more time. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too mijo,” you whispered and hugged back before pulling away. “Hang on, say goodbye to the kids, they’re upstairs playing.”

You called out to the three children upstairs and watched as they ran down the stairs, almost toppling over each other to get to Eddie.

“Bye, Eddie. Remember you promise to send me sand from the beach,” Lily said.

“I’ll send you as much sand as you want,” he said with a grin.

“Bye Eddie,” NJ mumbled and hugged him tight, Fiona did the same.

“Are you still gonna come back and visit though?” Lily asked hopefully.

“Of course! I wouldn’t forget about my best friends.”

“Okay,” Lily replied. “Bye!”

She pulled the twins back upstairs while explaining to them that the Barbies need to stay in prison-- whatever that meant--and you turned with a smile back to Eddie.

“Take care of yourself and call me and tio right when you get to Miami so we know you got there alright,” you said.

“I will,” he promised. “I’m about to head over to say goodbye to tio now.”

You nodded. “My boy is going to Miami. Coño, you are going to have so much fun. Take pictures and send us a video tour of your new place,” you said with a smile before kissing his forehead. “Have a safe trip. We love you so much.”

“I love you guy too.” Eddie stalled for a moment, leaning back against the door to take in your home one more time. It’s not as if he’d never see it again. But he’d miss seeing it on a regular basis. Finally, he felt satisfied as he stood and headed back out the door.

The ride to the club felt surreal, as though he were in a dream and would eventually wake up back in his bed. When the truck stopped again, he looked out the window and let out a huff of air.

“Five minutes,” he said to Greyson, who nodded and put the truck in park.

He hopped out of the car, moving quickly inside the club. When he stopped outside of Nevada’s office he wrapped his knuckles a few times before going in anyway. “You busy?” he asked with a half smirk, arms crossing nervously as he looked at his uncle.

“No, what’s up?” Nevada asked as he tucked his gun back into the safe and closed it.

“Greyson and I leave now so I wanted to say goodbye.” He smiled at Nevada nervously. “I’ll try not to make anyone mad enough to rip a door off its hinges in Miami.”

“I hope not,” Nevada replied with a smirk.

“I wanted to say thanks. I know I wasn’t always easy...thanks for not giving up on me.”

“Family doesn’t give up on each other,” Nevada replied, patting his nephew on the shoulder. “You nervous?”

“Incredibly so,” he said with a chuckle. “Me and Greyson are it in Miami. If there’s a problem, we have to fix it ourselves. That’s kinda fuckin’ intimidating.”

“You’ll be fine, you got a good head on your shoulders,” Nevada replied. “So does Greyson...and if you guys need anything, you just pick up the phone, me entiendes?”

Eddie all but lunged forward, hugging Nevada tight. “If you tell anyone I said this sappy shit, I will deny it, but I wouldn’t be the man I am today without you.”

Nevada tightened his arms around Eddie and pounded him on the back. “Thanks, mijo. I’m really proud of you, okay? You’re gonna do good down in Miami.”

“Thank you tio, I honestly can’t believe this is it.”

“What do you mean, this is it? Why do you sound like you’re going to prison, bro?” Nevada asked in a chuckle. “It’s not like you’re ever gonna see us again.”

“It won’t be the same though. You know how it is.” He shrugged. “I’m gonna miss seeing you guys every week. But I’m gonna make you both really proud,” he said with a grin.

“You’re gonna start your own life, start your own traditions, but you’ll be here for all the important shit; Thanksgiving, Noche Buena,” Nevada answered.

Eddie nodded as he looked at the clock and sighed, “I gotta go. I’ll call you guys when we land okay?” He hugged Nevada tight.

“Alright,” Nevada answered, hugging back. “I love you, bro.”

“I love you too.”

He moved back into the car staying silent beside Greyson for a long time before grabbing his boyfriends hand and giving it a tight squeeze. “Ready?”

“Are you?” Greyson asked with a half smile.

“Yeah, I actually am.” He put the car into drive and pulled out, truly ready to start his new life with Greyson.

Rafael straightened his tie as he came out of the bedroom, walking straight into the kitchen and dropping a kiss on Roxie’s neck. “Good morning, mi amor.” He bent forward to place a kiss on her stomach. “Morning, Liam.”

“I think he’s still asleep,” she whispered. “Hasn’t kicked me at all this morning.” She set the third pancake on a stack and slid the plate over to her husband. “Chocolate macadamia nut pancakes.”

“Thank you, it looks amazing,” he said. “He was kicking last night, right? He should be very active, shouldn’t he?”

“He normally is, maybe he knows mummy is getting irritated,” she mused.

Rafael snorted as he took a cup of coffee and went to sit at the table. “What time is your meeting today?”

“An hour from now and as you can see I am procrastinating.” She gestured to her face without makeup and hair still in a messy knot.

“You look just as beautiful as you always do,” he replied as he opened up the paper.

“What kind of court do you have today?”

“It’s just a bail hearing for that woman who raped her coworker,” he answered as he read an article.

“That’s so terrible. I mean, any rape is horrific but not many people would even believe a man could be raped.” She took a bite of her own pancakes and scrunched her nose. “These aren’t sweet enough.”

“What are you talking about? They’re perfect,” he replied, looking up at her with furrowed brows. “As for the first thing you said, did you know that around 38% of rape victims are male, and that 46% of those are perpetrated by females.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? Then why don’t you prosecute more male cases?”

“Because most of them don’t report it. They’re either too embarrassed or convinced that no one will believe them because of the misconception that men can’t be raped,” he answered.

“That’s heartbreaking,” she whispered. “I can’t even imagine how awful that must feel. I don’t know how you can do this job, you’re much stronger than I am.”

“Somebody has to do it,” he replied, sighing heavily. “Won’t be easy to convince a jury that woman is capable of it, but we’ll see.”

“Well if anyone can do it, it’s you.” She sipped her water, wincing for a moment before pointing to her belly. “He’s up.”

Smirking softly, Rafael flattened a hand over her stomach. “Good morning, Liam. You gonna be good for mommy today? She’s got a very important meeting this morning.”

Rafael felt a softer kick and Roxie smirked. “Oh already listening to your father better than me?”

“That’s my boy,” Rafael chuckled. “I’m gonna miss you today, mijo.”

“He’ll miss you too. But both of us are wishing daddy good luck today,” she said with a pat to her belly.

“I’m gonna need it,” Rafael mumbled, still rubbing his wife’s belly. “Are you excited about doing this show? It sounded great when you told me about it.”

“I’m thrilled, honestly I never pictured myself being on television. It wasn’t that long ago I was bartending and now all this...it just feels so unreal at times. I’m happily married, a son on the way, looking for location number three for the bakery and signing a contract for a television show? That doesn’t sound like a real life. That’s something a teenager would write in a college essay about their future. I just feel so blessed.”

“You deserve it, mi amor. You’ve worked so hard for it, nobody can deny that,” he replied.

“The fact that I can share this life and our child with you is better than anything I could have ever imagined.” She reached over and took her husband’s hand. “And the fact that I get the chance to one up Aaron on a regular basis on television makes it even better.”

He snorted loudly, shaking his head. “Just let it go, Rox, he’s not worth the effort. You’ll be much happier to focus on the positive things.”

“Oh I am positive, I’m positive that I’m going to crush him,” she said around a mouthful of pancake, hand covering her mouth.

“Take note, Liam. Your mother is not the woman you wanna make angry,” Rafael replied, placing his hand back on her belly as he turned back to the paper. “And just wait until you meet your aunt Isla.”

Roxie giggled and looked at the clock. “Shoot I have to start getting ready soon.” She tugged him closer. “Got a few minutes to spare?”

“I couldn’t give it to you even if we could have sex, I have to run,” he replied, turning in his seat to kiss her belly. “I love you, Liam. You be good in there okay?” He planted another kiss over his child’s home before he stood and planted one on Roxie. “I love you and you be good too,” he teased.

She crinkled her nose but kissed back, offering a begrudging smile. “Have a good day, we love you so much.”

“I love you both too. Just try to take it as easy as you can today, okay? I’ll bring home dinner tonight,” he replied, rubbing her belly before he looked down at it. “What do you think, Liam? Italian?”

“Liam thinks Italian sounds perfect.”

“Good, Italian it is then,” he replied, kissing her one last time before he downed his coffee and grabbed his briefcase on his way out.

“Docket number 57C152, people vs Meagan Cassidy. Charges, rape in the second degree, assault in the second degree,” the bailiff read out.

Rafael glanced at the defense table as the judge said, “I’ll hear the people on bail.”

“$500,000, your honor.”

“Your honor my client is a first time alleged offender, $500,000 is unreasonable. She has ties to the community, we request ROR.”

“Given that this is the defendants first arrest, this court will grant ROR. Opening arguments begin Monday morning at nine am. Next case.”

Rafael packed up his files and stuffed them into his briefcase. He knew it was a long shot to get a substantial bail set, but he had already told himself that he wouldn’t pull any punches just because the defendant was a woman.

“See you in court counselor,” Buchanan said with a chuckle. “I look forward to seeing your attempts at turning my hundred and ten-pound client into the big bad wolf.”

“Her size certainly didn’t factor when she drugged her victim in order to rape him,” Rafael shot back.

“I guess we’ll see then.”

“Yes, we will,” Rafael replied.

“You’re making a mistake,” Meagan said as she stepped toward Rafael. “A big one.”

“Is that so?” Rafael asked with amusement.

“Meagan,” Buchanan mumbled, but his gentle warning didn’t deter her.

“I’m an innocent woman, do you really think I could rape a man? I just don’t understand why you would take this case when it’s so clearly ridiculous. Men don’t get raped.”

Rafael arched a brow at her before he looked at Buchanan. “I might be willing to entertain a plea. Save the headache and trauma of a trial.”

“A plea? For something I didn’t do?” she scoffed.

“You know me better than to think I’d bring this to trial without any evidence,” Rafael said, still speaking to Buchanan.

“Evidence I’m sure that is purely circumstantial at best.”

“Telling nonetheless,” Rafael answered.

“All I’m saying, Barba, you should really start considering how this looks. For your sake.”

“It looks like your client thought she could get away with rape because she’s a woman,” Rafael answered.

“That’s a bold faced lie,” Megan intervened with a glare as Buchanan held up a hand to her.

“It’s okay Megan. Mr. Barba will be eating his words soon enough. No need to raise voices.”

“I’ll see you in court,” Rafael groaned, rolling his eyes and making his way to the elevator. His phone rang the second he was in the elevator as he glanced down to see Grace’s name on the screen. “Hello?”

“I pulled up a few cases I thought would be helpful. I tabbed them and left them with Carmen.”

“Good, thank you,” he replied. “Hey, why don’t you check in with SVU, see if there’s anything new that’s come up?”

“I’ll do that now and get back to you within the hour,” she answered with her usual enthusiasm.

“Okay, thank you.”

Roxie hurried down the hallway to the office at the end, already a few minutes later than expected. “I’m here,” she said softly as she made it into the room noticing only Aaron was there and sighing in relief. “Oh bloody hell, I thought I would be the last one here.”

“Technically, you are, but they needed an extra minute with another client,” he replied, gesturing to her stomach. “Bout to pop, I see. Don’t tell me you’re gonna take maternity leave in the middle of filming.”

“Relax, I can have someone watch Liam when we film for a few hours.” She sat down and smoothed down her hair, looking over at him. “When do we start filming again?”

“If everything goes smooth, four weeks,” he answered. “Listen, if you’re interested, my mom knows a great nanny service. They’re great with kids, they watch my nieces all the time. Amazing reviews.”

Roxie smiled at that. “That’s surprisingly kind of you. But I have a large family on my husbands side and just about all of them love babies.” She chuckled and rested a hand on her belly. “How is your sister, by the way?”

“She’s good. Raising hell over in Phoenix,” he replied with a half smile. “You think of a name yet for the...thing?”

“Is the thing my baby?” she asked with a laugh. “Liam, his name is Liam Barba.”

“That’s actually not so bad, I guess,” he replied. “I can’t believe you picked now to have a baby, though. I mean, your brand is finally starting to really take off, you got everything in the world at your fingertips.”

“Exactly the time to have a baby. I’m financially secure, happy in my marriage and my business is thriving. It’s the perfect time to take a step back and have this baby. Besides, it’s not like I can’t work with a baby.”

“I mean...just think of it this way, the bakery has been your baby for years, but now you’re gonna have an actual baby and unlike your bakery, this one will cry, shit, piss and never when you have a moment to spare. Right when you should be in the trenches, guiding your business through to the peak, you’ll be changing diapers with a kid hanging off your tit,” he replied.

“Well think about it this way. It takes some people decades to amass an empire. I’ve created a solid business platform in a matter of a few years. Give me some time away to miss what the thrill of business is like and when I come back it will be a bloody massacre.”

“Yeah, you have no idea what you’re in for with that,” he replied in a laugh as he pointed to her belly.

“Maybe not, but I know whatever Liam has in store for me, he’s worth it.”

“I guess it was nice having the competition while it lasted,” he replied, bobbing his shoulders.

“Oh I won’t let you get off that easily, I’m just a single part of this Lavender Bakery.”

“You are gonna hand over control of your bakery and just be the face? Yeah right, you’re the biggest control freak I know,” he replied.

She smiled. “Yes, but I have a partner and managers. Lavender bakery doesn’t stop just because I take time off. We’ll still be crushing you in numbers with ease.”

“We’ll see about that,” Aaron mumbled with a smirk. “Look, if you want my advice, get yourself a good nanny so you have time to spend growing your business. The minute you let up, it could all come crumbling down in a matter of seconds.”

“Duly noted,” she said with a nod. “I’ll keep it in mind. But there’s much more to life than business, don’t you think?”

“I mean, yeah, but business isn’t a hobby. I mean, if you’re happy with just having one little bakery in one neighborhood, then yeah, there’s more to life. But when you’re trying to grow an empire and you’re still at the bottom level, the trek up is not easy.”

She nodded. “I’m making sure that I have the best people to watch the bakery while I’m on maternity leave.” She took a deep breath as her back cramped again. “Ow, bloody hell either come out or don’t come out,” she complained to the baby.

“Better slow down there,” he teased. “You should conserve your energy. You’re gonna need it.”

“It’s just bad back pain,” she said with a huff.

“If you say so, mom.”

Before she could say anything else, the doors opened and a female executive along with her male coworker walked into the room.

Roxie didn’t listen to the meeting as much as she should have, mind caught up on what Aaron had said. She was building an empire that had only gotten to where it was because she was micromanaging. Was he right? If she let go now she could be throwing away her chance at being the number one bakery. Even when she came to the bakery as of late it wasn’t always as pristine as she would like. If she stepped out of the way who knows what else they’d go slack on.

On the other hand if she introduced a new partner she would be relinquishing another piece of her baby to a stranger. She already felt estranged from her London location, unable to visit as much as she wanted. Sometimes it even felt more like that location was Jacob’s separate project rather than the origin of her franchise. She frowned, brows furrowed as she weighed her options. This baby was coming soon and she suddenly felt not so prepared. She just needed to get a little further ahead so when the baby came she could lounge back for a few months with just paperwork. She grabbed a pen off the table, starting to jot down a list of all the tasks that needed to be accomplished before the baby came, the list getting longer and longer by the second.

Nevada came out of the backroom of the club, running a hand through his hair. From what Chibby had just told him, Captain Williams was relentless in trying to find Reina. Not that it mattered much; Nevada had been doing this long enough to know that no one would ever find Reina. Still, the captain was hungry, something he hadn’t encountered in quite some time. Most cops he encountered, even if they started hungry, he could always make sure they’d be more greedy than hungry.

As he looked up, his eyes met those of Irish and he smirked, nodding a hello at her.

“Look who it is,” he said. “What you doing on our side of the river, huh?”

“I can’t just come to check out the nice view Manhattan has to offer?” she said with a smirk looking him up and down.

“Sure, you can. You know we love you here,” he replied, giving her a brief hug. “What’s up?”

“I have some news on Heeley if you’ve got some time.” She nodded to his office for a private place to chat.

“Yeah, come on in,” he replied, opening the door to his office and letting her in first. “Something good, I hope.”

“Not spectacular but it’s progress,” she mused as she sat down. “How are the kids?”

“They’re good. Glad to be done with school for the summer. You know, usual kid shit,” he replied. “The oldest is moving to Miami, he left this morning.”

“You’re shitting me, little Eddie? Damn where does the time go?”

“I know, I can’t believe it either. What about you? How’s the old man?” he asked.

“He’s good, can't complain. Although he does,” she teased. “I got bad news and good news Trujillo, what do you want first?”

“Bad news, obviously,” he replied.

“I don’t know exactly where Heeley is yet. The fucker is tricky.”

“Okay, so what’s the good news?” he asked.

“He figured out why his signal keeps bouncing like a basketball,” she replied, smiling softly at him. “He’s on a goddamn boat.”

“What are you doing looking for Heeley anyway?” he asked.

“Your wife asked me to take a look.”

“Oh great,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes.

“She just wanted to help,” Irish offered. “I told her I’d keep my ear to the ground for any chatter.”

“Bueno, thanks. I appreciate you guys taking a look.”

“Anything we can do to help,” she said with a nod.