#bet van insisted on the black and white

[catb-fics]

Kathleen // The Late Late Show 2016

YouTube: Defendry Lyrics

[sasspan]

summary: in another world, black and white grow up next to each other. 

wordcount: 8k+

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He meets White for the first time when he is five years old.

Her family moves into the house across the street from Professor Juniper’s lab, the one that’s been empty since last November, when the old couple living there moved to Undella. After the moving van drives away, what’s left behind is a little girl in a fluffy white dress and a horde of boxes.

Bianca loves her because she finally has another girl in the neighborhood, and they can play tea-party together. Cheren is a bit more guarded at first, but White is sensible in a way Black and Bianca aren’t, and he ends up liking her because of that.

Black doesn’t much like her at all.

She’s...weird, for a little girl, but maybe that’s just because the only other little girl he’s ever met is Bianca. She’s kind of bossy (“Just like you, Black!” says Bianca cheerfully) and obsessed with playing make-believe. Not even fun make-believe, like pretending Black just beat the Elite Four, or Black just caught a cool pokémon, but boring stuff, like pretending to be at a hospital or a restaurant. White is always “the director” that bosses everyone around, and it’s the most annoying thing ever.

One day, two weeks after they first meet, it becomes too much to bear. Black stomps away from where White is officiating Cheren and Bianca’s fake wedding (dumb!), and then runs back to his own house, his own yard.

He pulls two pokéballs out of his pocket.“You guys are my only friends now,” he whispers down to Brav and Musha. They blink up at him affectionately through the red domes of their pokéballs, and he’s sort of comforted.

Gravel crunches behind him.

“You didn’t have to leave,” says White’s voice.

Black scowls at the ground, not turning around. “Well, it looked like you all were having a great time without me.”

More crunching. The hem of her poofy dress appears in the corner of his eye. She says, in a lofty tone, “Don’t be a spoilsport.”

Spoilsport? She’s the spoilsport! She’s the one who ruined everything by coming here. He rounds on her, ready to tell her just that—

“Are those your pokémon?” White’s eyes are huge. “Awesome!”

Black blinks, his anger forgotten. In the business of the past few weeks, he hadn’t gotten a chance to bring Brav and Musha out that much. He sticks his chest out proudly. “Yep. This is Brav—he’s a rufflet— and Musha’s a munna.”

He expects her to go all gaga over Musha—Bianca always squeals about how pink and fluffy he is—but White zeroes in on Brav. “Wow! He’s so cool. I bet he would make a great heroic character.”

Brav preens under her attention, and she turns to Musha. “And this one has a mysterious aura, don’t you think? Look at that purple mist coming from its head! So dramatic. Perfect for special effects.” She looks over at Black, her eyes sparkling with ideas. “If you come back, we could do a whole fantasy scene! You can be the knight with Brav…and Bianca can be the princess…and Cheren, the evil fog wizard! I’m the director, obviously.”

It actually sounds…kind of fun. But—“Only if me and Cheren get to have a pokémon battle,” Black insists.

White thinks it over for a second. “Fine. But you have to remember your cues, okay?” She grabs him by the arm and starts walking back towards Cheren and Bianca, pulling him along with her.

Black lets her. He thinks, well, maybe she isn’t so bad after all.

*

* *

He makes a promise to White for the first time when he is seven years old.

They’re sitting in Bianca’s backyard, all four of them. Cheren is telling the girls about the time he and Black wrote down their dreams in their journals; how Black’s was “to win the Pokémon League” and Cheren’s was, “to support Black’s dream”.

“Oh!” exclaims Bianca. “Me, me too! I’ll support Black’s dream too!”

Cheren nods importantly and writes this down as Black grins at Bianca.

They all turn to look at White, expectant.

“No, thank you,” says White primly. “I’ll be too busy with my dream to help Black.”

“What!” cries Black, equal parts offended and shocked. “You don’t have a dream!”

“Just ‘cause I don’t shout it out my window every morning doesn’t mean I don’t have one,” she sniffs.

He scowls at her. “Well, what is it?”

“To be the best producer in show business,” says White proudly, “and to create something that both pokémon and people can perform in.”

“Lame,” mumbles Black. It doesn’t sound nearly as cool as becoming Pokémon League Champion, but Bianca and Cheren are looking very impressed.

“…Actually, I changed my mind,” Bianca announces after a moment. “My dream is to support White’s dream.”

“Hey!” Black jumps to his feet, outraged. “That’s not fair!”

White stands up too, crossing her arms and scowling. “So she can support your dream, but not mine?”

“Your dream’s dumb!”

“Not as dumb as yours!”

“Wait…” Cheren hovers uncertainly, but it’s hard to stop Black and White once they get going.

“Best producer in show business? What does that even mean?”

“Ha! Like being Champion isn’t the most cliched goal ever!”

“What’s a clee-shay? Ugh, never mind, you’re such a know-it-all!”

“Know-it-all? You’re the loudest, rudest, grossest little boy I ever--”

“I’ve got it!” shouts Bianca out of nowhere. “You can support each other’s dreams!”

This is surprising enough that everyone else shuts up in order to stare at her blankly.

“What?” says Black.

“Support each other’s dreams,” Bianca repeats, her round face glowing with triumph. “Black!” She points an energetic finger in his direction. “You’ll need things to help you challenge the Pokémon League, right? Pokéballs and potions and stuff?” Black hesitates, then nods unhappily. Bianca pivots. “White! You’ll need help with telling everyone about your big show business plan, right?”

“I guess,” sighs White.

“So, you both can help each other out,” says Bianca happily. “Perfect, right?”

It’s…actually not a bad suggestion. Black needs funds to achieve his dream, he can’t keep mooching off of Cheren’s pocket money forever. But…it’s White. She does have good ideas sometimes, but mostly she’s a pain. And besides, even if he agreed, there’s no way she would—

“Fine,” says White.

What?

“Black,” she says. She looks determined. “My dream is really, really important to me. I have to reach it, no matter what. So…if you help me with my dream, I’ll help you with yours. Promise?”

“O…okay.” He didn’t think she would say yes, but…that’s one thing they can agree on, at least. The importance of a dream. “I promise.”

“You have to pinky-swear,” Bianca insists, but White refuses.

“This is a business deal. We shake hands.” She sticks out her own, her bottom lip jutting out challengingly, like she doesn’t think Black will do it.

Now it’s his turn to surprise her. He takes her hand and they shake on it, their entire arms pumping up and down wildly, their grips tight.

Neither of them wants to be the first to let go.

* * *

He realizes that he and White are the same when he is nine years old.

It’s the night of the annual Pokémon League tournament, and fireworks are blooming in the dark sky above, celebrating Champion Alder defending his title for the fifth year running. Most of the people who live in Nuvema like to gather in the big grassy fields behind Professor Juniper’s lab to watch the light show, but this year Black chooses to stay in his own backyard, laying down a blanket and stretching out on the cool grass. Cheren and White are meeting at the fields, and he knows Bianca’s dad likes to watch the fireworks as a family, so he’s not expecting any company tonight.

But just as the first rocket squeals up into the stars, footsteps sound at the gate.

“Hi,” says White, appearing in front of him.

Black grins, sitting up. “Hey, Prez.” It’s his teasing nickname for her, a little reminder of the promise they’ve made each other.

White scowls halfheartedly, her nose scrunching. “Shut up. Do you wanna come and watch the fireworks with me?”

“What about Cheren?”

“His cousin is visiting from Accumula and his mom said he had to show her around all night.”

“Oh.” Black considers it. “Nah, I think I’ll stay. There won’t be any good watching spots in the field left now, anyways.”

Unexpectedly, White shrugs and sits down next to him, arranging her dress around her knees. “Okay. I guess I’ll stay here and watch it with you, then.”

“Okay,” says Black, blinking. White always manages to surprise him.

For a while there is silence between them, broken only by the shrieks and sputters of the fireworks above. The beginning of the show is usually more basic stuff; rockets and fire-flowers,  pretty but not particularly unique. It’s all a lead-up to the real attraction, the special fireworks that are made by some fancy company in Nimbasa, the ones that make actual pictures out of the sparks.

The special fireworks are always in the shapes of the Champion’s winning team. For the fifth year in a row, that’s Alder.

As the twinkling figure of a vanilluxe bursts into existence in the night sky, Black lets out a quiet sigh.

A shifting sound beside him; White has turned to look at him. “You don’t like it?”

Black shrugs. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Huh,” she hums thoughtfully. “I thought you would be excited.”

“Nah.” He used to love the fireworks when he was little, but now they just make him hungrier. The sight of them exploding across the sky sends his mind into overdrive, imagining all the places he hasn’t been yet, imagining the day it’ll be his team all lit up in the stars. “I mean, they’re cool, I guess, but...they just make me feel so…”

“Trapped,” says White softly. The word is almost hidden by the bang of another firecracker.

Black looks at her with wide eyes. That’s exactly it. It’s the feeling of chafing against the safety of everything you’ve ever known, yearning to go beyond, be more. His dream feels like it’s growing every day, too big for his head, too big for his house, too big for Nuvema itself.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “You too, Prez?”

White gives a tiny nod. “I can’t wait to leave here,” she admits, her eyes on her lap like she’s ashamed to say it. “Is that awful of me? I love my family and my friends, I love Nuvema, but it’s not…”

Enough. It’s a selfish thought. It’s something he’s felt a thousand times before.

Another boom above them, followed by a clatter of sparks. He can make out the shape of a volcarona, its wings unfurling like petals. White’s face is lit by the flash, the expression startlingly familiar; her unfocused eyes, the determined set of her brow, her mouth pursed. It’s what Black sees in the mirror every morning, as he begins his daily mantra, I’m going to become Champion, I’m definitely going to become Champion.

Musha’s pokéball twitches at his hip.

A warm feeling spreads in Black’s chest.

She’s just like him.

White doesn’t just have a dream, she’s a dreamer. She chases her goal with a kind of single-minded passion that’s almost ridiculous, that eat-sleep-breathe forward momentum that’s less want and more need. The sort of thing that clouds your head and keeps you from thinking about literally anything else. The sort of thing that other people just don’t get sometimes—that Cheren and Bianca and Mom, despite all their support, can’t understand.

It’s nice to be understood.

“It’s not awful of you,” he finds himself saying. “Uh, I think. Well. Wanting to leave…it doesn’t mean you’re not grateful, or that you’ll never come back…but, there are just some things you can’t do here. And everyone who supports you…they know that too. They wouldn’t want you to hold yourself back if what you really want is…out there.” He makes a vague motion at the sky. “I know I wouldn’t.”

White stares at him for a long moment. her eyes unreadable, then lifts her gaze to the sky, her mouth curling into a soft smile. “Thanks, Black.”

They watch together as the fireworks barrel into their grand finale.

“You know,” she says, “the view from here is actually really nice.” * * *

He says good-bye to White for the first time when he is twelve years old.

Bianca and Cheren have been spending a lot of time with Professor Juniper lately, something about wanting to learn how to help her with her research. Black doesn’t tag along; he’s way too busy training with Musha and Brav or studying battle techniques. But he’d assumed that White went with them; her house is right next to the lab.

But one afternoon, trekking back home from the edge of town, he glances through White’s front window and sees her sitting in the entrance hall, surrounded by a snowstorm of papers.

“Application forms,” she explains after she’s let him inside. “There’s this apprenticeship opportunity at a movie studio, shadowing a real director making a real movie. I could get a chance to work under Stu Deeoh! Can you believe that? Stu Deeoh! Remember when we watched B.T. the Extra-Terrestrial? He directed that!”

Black squints. B.T.? Was that the one with the beeheeyem that made those kid’s bikes fly? “Sounds cool.”

“It is! Ugh, I hope I get accepted. It would be so amazing to work on an actual movie set.” White’s gaze is bright and starry, and Black smiles.

“You’ll get it,” he tells her confidently. If there’s one person he could believe in more than himself, it’s White. “Where is this, anyway? Accumula?”

“Hmm? No, I wish. It’s in Virbank City.”

“Virbank,” he muses. Where was that? Up in northern Unova? “That’s a pretty long commute from here.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go back and forth every day. I’d probably go stay with my aunt in Flocessy. It’s right near Virbank.”

Black feels like the floor just fell out from under him. “What? You’d leave Nuvema?”

“Yes, of course.” White looks nonplussed. “That’s what we’ve always talked about, right?”

“Well, yeah, but…” He’s always assumed that they would be leaving Nuvema together. Black racks his brain for a reason for her to stay. “What about getting a Pokédex?”

“That’s your dream, not mine,” she reminds him.

“Oh…yeah.” He’s a bit put out. He’d sort of hoped she would change her mind about that. He tries again. “Bianca would really miss you, you know.”

“Just Bianca?” White asks slyly.

She has a knowing smile on her face, and Black is suddenly embarrassed. “Cheren too. And, uh, Brav. And Musha.” His face burns as he says the next words, but whatever. “And, well. Me.” She’s his best friend. Of course he’ll miss her.

“Oh, Black.” White’s eyes are soft. She reaches out and gives his arm a quick squeeze. “I wish we could leave together too. But this is something I can’t pass up. You understand, right?”

Black sighs. Yeah. He understands. More than anybody.

White gives his arm a final pat before returning to the application. “And who knows? I might not even get this apprenticeship.”

She gets the apprenticeship, of course.

On the day she leaves for Flocessy Town, Black, Cheren, and Bianca see her off at the edge of Nuvema. Bianca is tearful, Cheren is solemn, and Black is….somehow both jealous and proud. White, looking nervous and excited in her brand-new travel clothes, waves frantically as she disappears over the nearest hill.

Black watches the point where she vanishes. He makes a silent vow to her retreating back; I will catch up, I will. Just you wait. * * *

He meets White for the second time when he is fourteen years and five months old.

Two weeks out of Nuvema, and Black is nearly at the end of Route 1; Accumula’s skyline is in sight, and the trail opens up into a grassy clearing, some sort of park or something.

The area isn’t too busy; in the distance, he can see a group of people setting up some sort of equipment, and a couple of pidove are roosting in nearby tree. The sky is clear, the air is fresh, and Black is full of new-journey energy; it’s the perfect time to shout his daily affirmations into the world.

He launches into them without hesitation. “Grimsley, Caitlin, Marshall, Shauntal! Just wait! I’ll get my badges and come battle you! Champion Alder! You’ll be next! I’m definitely, absolutely, going to be— ”

“Excuse me!” The voice is quieter than his, but so deeply familiar that it makes the rest of his words die in his throat.

“Wha—Prez?” He swings around.

She’s standing a couple yards away, flanked by a pair of disgruntled-looking guys. Her hands are on her hips, her expression similarly indignant; but when she sees his face, it fades to a sort of comical disbelief. “Black?”

In unison they both move forward, meeting in the middle. A moment of hesitation, and then White reaches out to seize his hands. “Black! I can’t believe you’re here. It’s been so long! I thought I recognized that loud voice of yours...”

Black nods dumbly. It’s bizarre to have her here, in front of him, and not on a tiny Xtransciever screen. She’s both familiar and strange; the same bright eyes, the same lively face—but her hair’s longer now, her hands rougher. He’s both embarrassed and pleased to realize that he’s finally taller than her.

“I got a call from Cheren a few days ago,” she’s saying now. Her expression suddenly becomes stern. “Black! How could you run off without giving Cheren and Bianca their Pokédexes? Professor Juniper says they got damaged and now you have the only one that works!”

“Oh…oops.” He’d had a feeling that he was forgetting something important. “Sorry.”

White shakes her head, exasperated. “I told them they could meet you in Striation to get this mess figured out. You’re heading there to get the Trio Badge, right?”

“That’s ri—”

“Miss White!” One of the guys from before cuts in, his arms waving energetically. “We really must get the camera rolling soon! Our equipment is rented by the hour, you know.”

“Oh! Of course. I’m so sorry for the delay. Please go ahead and finish setting up.” White dips her head apologetically as the two guys start walking away, grumbling to each other. “That was the director of a commercial we’re shooting today. The BW Agency is providing the talent!”

“That’s amazing, Prez.” He’s not surprised she’s already accomplishing stuff like this—she’s still White, after all. “Can I finish my affirmations now?”

White sighs. “You haven’t changed at all. All right, just aim away from the microphones, okay? I need to go and get my star actress ready for her closeup.”

“Oh, right. Gigi.”

White looks pleased. “You remembered. After you’re done shouting, come over to the set and I’ll introduce you to her.”

Black nods. Gigi…what kind of pokémon could she be? White has never mentioned.

She turns to leave, but looks back at the last moment, a fond smile blooming across her face. “And, Black? It’s really good to see you again.”

* * *

He realizes that he and White are different when he’s fourteen years and seven months old.

It’s pretty awesome, getting to travel with her after so many years of planning and arguing and replanning and fantasizing. Well, at first it’s a little weird—they need to relearn each other after so much time apart—but the awkwardness fades away after the first couple of weeks and then it’s like they’d never said goodbye.

Accumula, Striation, Nacrene, Castelia. Pinwheel Forest, the Dreamyard, Skyarrow Bridge, the Desert Resort. Countless routes. They all sort of blur together, but the one constant is White right next to him; sometimes he’s pulling her forward, sometimes it’s the other way around, but most of the time they’re in sync, charging ahead towards their own dreams, side-by-side.

It’s not like they don’t have their disagreements, or times where they’re trying to go in opposite directions. Like when he (accidentally!) breaks some expensive filming equipment while training with Tula. Or when she needs Tep to do a modeling shoot right before his battle with Lenora.

The most annoying thing is that she refuses to tell him what the ‘BW’ in ‘BW Agency’ stands for. He tries to spring random guesses on her in the hope that he can surprise it out of her.

(“Business Whimsicott?”

“No.”

“Boldore…Water?”

“What?”

“Best Wishes?”

“That’s already taken!”)

But if that’s the worst point, then he considers himself pretty lucky.

And he’s gotta admit, it’s cool to see White at work. Running the BW Agency is a ceaseless whirlwind of calling and booking and prepping and billing, not to mention the extra workload of planning Nimbasa’s new musical. White handles it all with a practiced grace, juggling the needs of pokémon and people all the same.

It’s a completely different skillset than pokémon battling; all collaboration and communication and…a bunch of other words like that. Either way, White excels at it.

She’s really kind of incredible, all things considered. * * *

He says good-bye to White for the second time when he’s fourteen years and ten months old.

It’s after the awful Ferris wheel incident, and they’re wandering around Nimbasa’s subway station. Marshall and Alder are having some conversation with the subway bosses, and nearby, N’s servine is lurking behind a pole. Black shoots it a suspicious look.

At his side, White is clutching his arm. She’d do this all the time when they were younger and watching horror movies together late at night. Bianca would scream theatrically, Cheren would yelp and babble about how illogically the characters were acting, but White wouldn’t make a sound; just grab onto his arm and grip it tighter and tighter until the credits rolled.

But now, it’s not a jump-scare that’s making her act like this—it’s the shock and pain of losing Gigi, the insidious self-doubt that N seeded in the Ferris wheel.

Even now, after being discharged from the hospital, her face is drawn; her eyes are ringed with dark circles of exhaustion. Her hair is loose from its regular ponytail, rippling down her back in a dark sheet that catches glints of light as she moves. It’s been a long time since Black has seen her like this, and for some reason it’s making him all self-conscious.

He stomps the feeling down. Focus.

White is staring at the subway station’s outer lawn, where the pokémon that Alder had been playing with earlier are still hanging around. Black follows her gaze; she’s watching a darumaka wrestle with a garbodor. It’s a playful battle, the smaller darumaka clambering around the bigger pokémon energetically, releasing small, harmless spouts of flame.

White lets out a long, measured breath. “I just realized,” she says. “I’m—I’m Bianca’s dad.”

There’s a sentence he never expected to hear from her mouth. “What?”

“Bianca’s dad. Remember, how he’d always hold Bianca back because he was scared of her getting hurt, but he just ended up making her doubt herself about everything.” White closes her eyes and shudders. “I…I did the same thing with Gigi! I made her think she couldn’t battle, I made her think she couldn’t protect herself.”

“Prez, that’s not…” He’s at a loss for words, partly because she’s not entirely wrong. But…it’s not the whole story. It’s not that simple. “N’s wrong,” he tells her firmly. “Maybe Gigi was interested in battling, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t want to be an actress! You didn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to. You always wanted the best for her.”

White shakes her head. “How can that be true? I didn’t give her any other options. Pokémon like to battle, I know that! You’ve told me that for years. It was just my own selfish concerns that stopped me…” She looks down, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. When she looks up, there’s a new fire in her gaze. “Which is why I’ve decided…I’m going to participate in the Battle Subway challenge.”

And that’s how Black ends up standing on the second-floor balcony, watching White try to catch her first pokémon.

He’s more than a little torn about this new development. On one hand, it’s good to see her start recovering from the Ferris wheel incident. On the other hand, maybe this is too much, too soon? She’s never even been in a pokémon battle before…

On the third, selfish ambipom hand, he wants to go on the Battle Subway too. It’s just not fair. Wouldn’t it be more fun to do this sort of thing together?

He groans, slumping forward against the railing as his eyes wander back to the scene below.

Despite the runaround the wild pokémon are giving her, White seems to be in better spirits. She’s pulled her hair back up into the usual businesslike ponytail; Black is both relieved and a little disappointed. A smile tugs at his mouth as he watches her get chased in circles by the deerling she’s trying to catch. He’ll go down there and help her eventually, of course, but what kind of best friend would he be if he didn’t get enough ammunition to tease her mercilessly later?

“You shouldn’t lie to yourself,” rumbles a voice next to him.

Black jumps. “Mr. Marshall?”

Marshall looms at his side. “You’re wishing you could accompany her on the Battle Subway, aren’t you?”

“Um…yes.”

“Why?”

What kind of question was that? “Because…she’s my friend, and we’ve been traveling together.”

Marshall shakes his head, disappointed. “I expect more honesty from my challengers. Make sure you face your feelings by the time you come to challenge me. Now, don’t be a coward! Go help the girl!”

In a flash, he lifts Black over his head and flings him over the railing.

“Black!” White hurries over as he crash-lands into some convenient foliage. “Are you all right? What happened?”

“’S nothing,” he mumbles, pushing away the embarrassment of Marshall’s words. “I’ll tell you later. Looks like you need help right now.”

Nevertheless, as he walks alongside White’s departing train a short while later, he can’t help but wonder; is he being honest with himself? Why does White leaving bother him so much? Cheren and Bianca have gone their own ways; of course White would do the same, eventually.

He just…didn’t think it would be this soon.

The train is starting to pick up speed; he begins jogging. “Good luck,” he tells her. “Just remember everything I annoyed you with when we were kids and you’ll be fine. Type-matchups and special effects and all that. Okay?”

“All right. Thanks for everything, Black.” Some of her earlier melancholy seems to have returned; her eyes are downcast.

There’s no way he can let her leave like this. “Prez!” he calls. “Remember our promise! Even if the BW Agency isn’t active right now…I’ll still keep my promise!”

“Me too.” Her voice is resolute, but so quiet. He has to see her smile before she leaves.

“And, Prez!”

“What?”

“Burned…Wig!”

Her face is uncomprehending for a moment, before realization dawns. She finally breaks into a smile. “No, that’s not it.”

“Belly Wurmple!” He’s running now.

That gets a laugh. “Ew, no!”

“Big Walrein!” The train has outstripped him, and now he’s just shouting nonsense words as it speeds out of the tunnel.

The first pokéball on his belt wriggles; without even looking, he plucks it into his palm and hurls it towards the open window of White’s train compartment.

Of course Brav wants to go with her. She was his very first fan.

* * *

He dreams about White for the first time when he is exactly fifteen years old.

He’s lying in a field somewhere between Driftveil and Mistralton. The sky is darkening above him, the Pokémon League opens in two months, and today is Black’s fifteenth birthday.

It’s been the first birthday Black has spent alone since—since, well, ever. He’s always had his friends at his side, pokémon or human or both. He’s never particularly cared about presents or cake, but....it would’ve been nice to celebrate, somehow.

Black stares up at the twilight stars. He wonders where Cheren is, where Bianca is. He wonders where Brav is. He wonders where White is.

Her birthday was three days ago. He’d tease her about it when they were kids, but Black has always secretly liked that their birthdays are so close. Some years, when they were still little enough to have parties, their mothers would team up and make a combination cake for the both of them; alternating layers of chocolate and vanilla, a forest fire’s worth of candles teetering on top.

He wonders what White did for her birthday this year. He’d tried to send a birthday message over the Xtransciever, but the signal is weak on the routes sometimes, and he’s not sure if it had gone through. Maybe she’d tried to send him a message too, and he’d never received it.

He wonders what she would think of the mess he’s gotten himself into, with Reshiram and the Gym Leaders and Team Plasma. He wonders what she would think of the stone sitting in his bag right now, the title sitting on his shoulders—Reshiram’s chosen, the hero of truth.

What does that even mean?

He doesn’t want to be the hero of truth. He doesn’t even know what the “truth” is. He doesn’t want to be a “hero”, period. He just wants to become Pokémon League Champion, and then go home, and be with his friends.

He wishes he could go back to Nuvema. To those late-summer, apple-golden days, where the world was like an old jumper—a little too small and scratchy, but warm and beloved all the same. Just him and White and Cheren and Bianca, playing make-believe again.

What had they used to pretend? Knights and princesses and wizards. Tumbling around Bianca’s big, sunny backyard, with cardboard swords and aluminum foil hats, Brav and Musha play-fighting between them.

You’re the damsel, Bianca, White had said, and Cheren, you’re the villain. And Black, you’ll be the hero who saves the day, all right?

Yeah, he thinks drowsily. If he has to be any kind of hero…that’s the kind of hero he wants to be. A hero for his friends. A hero for White.

He drifts to sleep.

In his sleep, he dreams, and in his dream, he’s standing at the edge of a—of a cliff, maybe. Except when he looks down, he can’t see what’s at the bottom.

Just sky above him and sky below him and sky all around him.

“Black,” says someone at his side. It’s White, standing on the precipice right next to him.

She smiles at him. Her foot dangles off the edge, dipping into the endless blue. She says, “Are you ready?”

He isn’t sure. Perturbed, he takes a step back. “I don’t know,” he says.

White looks unsurprised. Wordlessly, she holds out her hand.

Black takes it without hesitation. It’s what he’s been doing as long as he can remember; taking White’s hand, and charging forward. Not knowing what was ahead; just knowing they would help each other.

Her fingers are warm and reassuring in his. “I won’t let go,” she says.

Together, they leap off the ledge and into the blue.

That’s when he wakes up. * * *

He meets White for the third time when he’s fifteen years and two months old.

The snow muffles his footsteps as Black trudges aimlessly along Route 6. Behind him, Iris is prancing around and making pointed comments about Bianca and White. For a dragon-type specialist, she sure is chatty in the cold.

He looks up at the wintry-gray sky unhappily. If only someone or something could come and sweep him away. He would even take another ride on Skyla’s swanna at this point. Or, better yet, Brav…

Wait, Brav!

His first pokémon dives into his arms with a cry of delight. Black returns the gesture enthusiastically. “Brav! I missed you!” But wait… “If you’re here, then—”

“Black!” At the top of the next hill, someone is waving.

“Prez?” The rush of gladness hits him like a punch to the chest, but it’s tempered with that strange, fizzling nervousness from the Battle Subway. “Prez!” he shouts, resolutely ignoring Iris’s snicker.

She’s beaming, her cheeks flushed and her hair wind-tousled. “We’re back!” She skids down the slope to meet him and nearly falls over. He catches her by her arms and sets her upright. “Look!” she continues excitedly, waving behind her. “My very own pokémon team!”

“Wow! Amazing!” There’s the deerling he helped her catch, as well as a stunfisk, a solosis, an alomomola, a vullaby…and there, that serperior, with its haughty expression, can only be N’s old servine. “You caught them all by yourself? Great job, Prez!”

“Thanks!” Her eyes have that old sparkle back in them. “I couldn’t wait to show them to you—and this, too!” She produces a very familiar device from her bag.

“Wait, that’s—!”

“A Pokédex!” she finishes for him. “Bianca gave me hers. She wants to start working as Professor Juniper’s assistant now, can you believe it?”

No, he really can’t. Ditzy, soft-hearted Bianca, an assistant researcher? Black grapples with the thought as he fumbles to pull his own Pokédex out.

The two Pokédexes make muted beeps when they’re brought close together. White smiles, her eyes soft.

“It’s like they’re saying hello,” she says. She meets Black’s gaze. “Hello, by the way.”

“Uh, hi,” he stammers. He looks down at the Pokédexes, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “After all that fuss about not wanting a Pokédex when we were younger…you got one anyways…”

“Yep. I guess we’re just the same now, huh?” White seems surprisingly pleased by this development.

Black swallows. “I guess so.”

They smile at each other. It’s a nice moment, until Iris’s muffled laughter ruins it.  

* * *

He makes a promise to White for the second time when he’s fifteen years and two months old.

It’s the night before the start of the Pokémon League quarterfinals, and Black can’t sleep.

His mind is whirring at a million miles an hour, darting through strategies and type matchups, offense and defense, opponents and Elite Four members. Every time he reaches the edge of sleep, a sudden, urgent idea breaks into his head, jerking him back awake.

It’s impossible. It’s exhausting.

He wishes that Musha could be here.

That Dream Eater would suck his thoughts away and give him a moment’s peace. When was the last time he actually felt completely calm? This whole journey has just been one sucker-punch after another, every new revelation veering him further and further away from his goal.

Everything had seemed so simple from the shelter of Nuvema. Reaching his dream had been a series of challenging, but achievable steps.

And now…

Black groans and rolls out of bed. He needs a breath of fresh air. The Pokémon Center that League challengers are housed in has a huge field in the back; usually used for practice battles or training, it should be empty now, with the competition whittled down to the eight quarter-finalists.

But when Black arrives at the edge of the field, someone is waiting for him.

“Hi.” White pats the ground next to her, where she’s already lain out a picnic blanket. “Want to sit?”

“S…sure.” He takes a seat, vaguely stunned by her presence. “How did you know…?”

“Just a guess. I knew before the televised battles, you’d be overthinking a lot…and without Musha…” The rest of her sentence doesn’t need to be said.

They sit together in silence for a while. It’s a clear, slightly breezy night; the winter constellations are twinkling above, and the overgrown grass of the field ripples around them.

It’s all so bittersweetly nostalgic; Black’s heart brims with an intense, quavering mixture of pride and loss. How long has it been since he left Nuvema? Less than a year?

It feels like much longer.

“Remember the fireworks every summer, back home?” White asks suddenly.

He hums assent. Bouffalant and escavalier and accelgor, for as long as he can remember.

“This year,” White says, “it’ll be your team up there.”

She states it with simple, unwavering confidence, so at odds with Black’s own intense doubt…how is it even possible?

“How can you say that?” he demands. “I can’t…I barely made the entrance ceremony. Getting through Victory Road was unbelievable hard. My toughest battles are tomorrow, but I can’t even sleep without Musha’s Dream Eater, and apparently my dreams have gotten so bad, even Musha doesn’t want them!” He pauses to take a breath. White is watching him sympathetically. “I don’t know,” he says finally. “This whole time, I felt like…becoming the Champion was almost inevitable. Maybe I’d have a few setbacks, or even fail the first time I tried…but I always knew I could do it. But…now…”

“I know,” says White quietly. She shifts closer, so their shoulders are pressing together. The warmth of her is comforting in that same nostalgic way. He can almost pretend that they’re five years old again.

“Black,” she begins, her tone suddenly serious, “I can’t say I know exactly what you’re feeling or thinking right now, but…I need to tell you some things, and you need to listen. All right?”

He nods, mystified.

“All right. Well.” White takes a deep breath. “First of all. N is wrong. I’ve watched you battle for almost my whole life, and there’s absolutely no way Musha sees you just as a source of dreams. I don’t know why he chose to leave when he did, but…I think we should wait and see what happens. Because Musha loves you, Black. I know he loves you. Just like Brav and Bo and Tula and Costa, and Bianca and Cheren and…”

Her words peter off. Black peers at her. “Prez…?”

White’s eyes dart to him. Her face is faintly pink. “Sorry. I got distracted. My point is, you can’t let this burrow into your head and make you doubt yourself during your battles. You owe it to your other pokémon to do the best you can tomorrow! And you need think of everyone who helped you get here. Like Chrissy and Hawes, or the Gym Leaders, or the Junipers. I know how much Musha means to you, but he’s not the only one who wanted to help you succeed.

“You don’t even know how much support you have, Black! How much—how much people believe in you. That kind of belief isn’t blind, it exists because people can see what you’re capable of. So what if reaching your dream is ten times harder than you thought it would be? So what if it’s a hundred times harder? You can still do it. I know you can.

“And, it’s the same with everything that’s going on with N and Team Plasma and the Light Stone; I know it’s ridiculous, and you didn’t expect it, but...I really, really think you would be an amazing hero…if you let yourself. You don’t have to. But you could.” She takes another breath and lets the words sit in the air for a moment, before cupping her reddened cheeks with her hands. “Augh, I keep getting carried away! A—anyways, that’s all I wanted to say.”

Black is staring at her, warmth swelling in his chest even as his mind reels. How long has she been holding all that in? “Um…wow. Thanks, Prez.”

“That’s all you can say? You jerk.” White sighs, but it sounds more defeated than anything. “Well…just keep your eyes on the prize. For both of us. You’re so close to becoming Champion! You probably don’t remember, but you have a chance to make BW Agency really famous, you know.” She smiles and rolls her eyes, like she doesn’t mind that he’s forgotten.

Except he hasn’t forgotten.

Black watches her contemplatively for a moment, then lets out a gusty, decisive sigh. “Arghhh, you caught me. It was gonna be a surprise, but—wait here!” He jumps to his feet.

“Caught you—? Black!” Her bemused voice follows him as he hurries back into the Pokémon Center, then reappears a few minutes later, clutching a wide, flat box.

“Here,” he says, thrusting it in her general direction. He can’t bring himself to watch her reaction as she opens it; for whatever reason, his heart is beating so fast he can hardly take a breath.

He hears her murmur “What is this? A present?”, followed by the rustle of the box opening, then several moments of silence. And then—“Oh, Black.”  

Black looks up and can’t quite speak. White’s eyes are glowing in the dim light, her whole face radiant with such disbelief and joy that his heart actually aches in his chest.

He wants to live in this moment forever.

White lifts the shirt out of the box almost reverently. BW Agency’s logo gleams on the fabric, shiny and new. “It’s beautiful. You’re going to wear it for your Champion battle?”

“Yeah,” Black manages. “I’m…glad you like it.” It’s scary, how happy her happiness makes him.

When had her dream become so important to him…?

White stares at the shirt for a few more seconds, smiling, before turning to him.

“You know, you’re the one who gave me the idea for the agency’s name.”

“What? No way.”

“Yes! It was when we were…eight, I think? Bianca’s dad got mad at us because you knocked over a painting in their house, and he made us all sit down and write an essay about what good, respectful people we would be when we grew up. Cheren was the only one who did it; Bianca just drew pictures, and you—”

“Wrote out a strategy to beat Shauntal!” He remembers now.

“Right! And I was brainstorming names for my future company. But it was hard, because I didn’t know what exactly I would be doing, I just knew I had to…make this group, or organization. I think I was leaning towards White’s Talent Office or something like that. Then Bianca’s dad came to check on us, and you started talking his ear off about battling ghost types—something about how you had to know the shape of the pokémon, more than you had to know what it was made of. It didn’t really make sense at the time, but…I don’t know. I guess I realized that I knew the “shape” of my company, even if I didn’t know what it would be about. So, I came up with the name ‘BW Agency’. Good, right?”

“Really good.” Black stares off into the sky, smiling. It’s impossible to count the number of ways he and White’s dreams have become intertwined; it’s almost like one, singular dream, now.

A thought strikes him. “Wait, Prez…does that mean you don’t actually know what the ‘BW’ in ‘BW Agency’ stands for?” There’s no response. Black looks over. White is intensely scrutinizing her own fingernails. “Prez?”

“Well…not yet,” she says, reluctant. Black starts laughing helplessly. She smacks his arm. “You’re awful!” she cries, but she’s laughing too. “You can’t tell anyone! It’ll ruin my reputation.”

“I promise, I promise.” Grinning, he sticks out his hand. “Look, I’ll even shake on it.”

White narrows her eyes. “No, this is too serious for a business deal. This is life or death.” She offers him her pinky. “You have to swear.”

“Okay, I swear.” He hooks his pinky to her, his left to her right. “I’ll take it to my grave.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she warns.

Black shakes his head fondly; together, they lay back down, their little fingers still linked under the stars.

He dozes off like that eventually, and it’s the best sleep he’s had in ages.

* * *

He says goodbye to White for the last time when he is fifteen years and two months old.

The Plasma castle is in ruins around him, and the shapes of Zekrom and N are rapidly fading into the horizon. The reddening light of the sunset filters through all the dust hanging in the air; strangely, the effect is almost beautiful.

Reshiram lifts her head and emits a long howl. It’s a mournful sound, one that almost brings tears to Black’s eyes.

At his side, White seems to feel the same way. “It must be like her heart is ripping in half. I can’t imagine what that feels like.”

He looks at her for a long moment, torn between sadness and relief. “Yeah. Me neither.”

White meets his gaze; there is a wordless moment of understanding.

Black swallows. “Prez,” he begins.

And then everything falls apart.

Reshiram’s call cuts off abruptly into a shriek; at that exact moment, Black feels a familiar, violent tug, like an invisible rope is dragging him forwards.

“What—?” White yelps; at their feet, Gigi lets out a snort of surprise.

“Reshiram’s going back inside the Light Stone,” Black realizes aloud. “Prez! Stay away!”

White scoops up Gigi, and in unison, they edge back from the pull of the Stone. Reshiram’s cries begin to warp and fade, the shape of the dragon folding in on itself.

The strength of the pull starts lessening, and Black lets out a breath. “I think we’re all right,” he says. “Another minute, and we could have gotten pulled in—”

“A lovely idea,” murmurs Ghetsis’s oil-slick voice; and then suddenly Black is weightless, soaring towards Reshiram’s diminishing form.

“Black!” White shrieks.

“Stay back!” he shouts, struggling against Reshiram’s pull, but it’s like trying to get out of a bog; the more he resists, the faster he’s enveloped.

“How poetic,” remarks Ghetsis, stepping out from the shadows of a crumbling pillar. “That the one who ruined my arrangements would be so kind as to bury himself. Good-bye, hero of truth.” He spares a single, mocking glance at White; then the pokémon at his side flashes and beeps, and the next moment, there is no one there at all.

The sun has nearly set. It’s really beautiful. The light spills across the fractured marble and across White’s anguished face.

“Black,” she says, her voice frantic, “hold on, I’m, I’m going to get help…”

But Black knows, in his gut, that it’s too late.

“Prez,” he says. Every word feels like he’s talking through syrup. “I’m sorry. I really wanted to keep my promise.” There’s so much else he needs to say but there’s no time. Clumsily, he undoes his jacket zipper, trying to show her the logo on the shirt, trying to show her that he tried—

“No,” says White suddenly. She turns around and kneels, placing Gigi on the ground away from the Stone. She leans forward, murmuring something into Gigi’s ear, then stands back up.

“Black,” she says again. Her voice is no longer desperate. “A long time ago, we made a promise. That we would help each other achieve our dreams. You haven’t kept your promise to me. And…” She finally turns around. “I haven’t kept my promise to you.”

White looks at him, her eyes a blaze of sorrow and anger and determination.

“So,” she says, and she strides forward, utterly purposeful. “There’s no way you can leave without either of us keeping our word. And there’s no way—” She reaches out, taking hold of his hands. “There’s no way I’ll let you go, ever.”

She draws closer as world becomes blinding; Black can’t speak. There’s a feeling like falling, except it’s not them falling, it’s everything else—the Plasma castle and Gigi and the bloody sky, all falling away, and the only thing left is him and White and the pure, endless light around them.

“Promise?” he manages.

Her hands don’t leave his. “Promise.”

[sharperthewriter]

Chapter 14 of the 16th Annual KP Fannies Awards

Chapter 14 – Misadventures in Sketchville, Part IV

(March 11, 2021, 3:17pm)

"Are we there yet?"

"No!"

"Are we there yet?"

"No!"

"Are we there yet?"

"Look kids, Daddy is behind the wheel of a moving vehicle on a highway. Why don't you play on your tablets?" Ron said, trying to maintain his concentration on the road.

Kim said nothing as she sat with her arms crossed. She couldn't believe that she was spending Justin's eighth birthday driving to Sketchville at the beginning of what she was hesitant to label a pandemic.

"Okay, Daddy!" Justin said and resumed playing on his tablet. Alexa, on the other hand, had found something more interesting.

"Look, Daddy, a black and white doggie!" she said excitedly, pointing to a long-furred, tiny-eared, striped animal with its fluffy tail pointing straight up as it waddled between the seats from the back of the minivan.

"And another one!" Justin added, pointing to an identical animal that followed it. "And they both smell funny!"

Kim turned in her seat and her eyes widened.

"Alexa..." she whispered, "...those animals…are not doggies..."

The "doggies" crept up between the seats toward the front.

"Ron...pull over! Now!" Kim insisted in a low hiss.

"Uhhh...sure, KPS. Why?" Ron asked, glancing in confusion at her face, and then turning slightly to follow her gaze. Alexa reached out and touched one of the animals' tails. The "doggie" startled, and then both animals arched their backs.

"Ron!" Kim said urgently.

Ron turned and looked down.

"Skunks!"

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

They threw up their hands, but it barely protected their faces. Ron's distraction caused the van to go off the side of the road where it started chewing up grass and dirt, and a large rock being thrown up damaged the grille.

"AAAAAHHHHHH!" Ron continued to scream as he pawed at his ruined shirt, attempting to drive the van with his knees while Rufus had one paw on the wheel and the other on his nose where he stood in Ron's lap.

"The smell! The smell!" Kim exclaimed as she scrubbed at her face, having taken a direct hit.

"Wheeeee!" Justin said excitedly as the van caught some air over a bump.

"This is fun!" Alexa agreed.

Kim's overalls, still not properly fastened in an attempt to get Ron's attention, came fully undone and fell from her shoulders as she waved uselessly at the air trying to get the skunk smell out of the confined space.

Ron finally slammed on the breaks and the vehicle came to a complete stop. There was silence for a moment before Rufus leapt on the automatic window button, rolling the windows down one at a time as Kim and Ron futilely pawed at their clothes that were ruined by the oily yellow spray.

Justin and Alexa held their noses as the frightened skunks scrambled around the van's interior.

"Ewww...Mommy and Daddy smell bad!" Alexa finally said.

"KPS! Heeelp!" Ron yelled.

"I'm trying, but I can't see!" Kim complained.

"Rufus! Help us!" Ron whined.

Having opened the windows and sun-room, Rufus scampered to the back of the van and opened their emergency kit. He donned his tiny gas mask and rummaged until he found some anti-skunk face wipes and tossed them to both Kim and Ron. The pair wiped the spray from their faces, though it would be impossible to get it entirely out of their clothes and hair.

"Thanks, Rufus ol' buddy!" Ron said, giving him a thumbs-up.

Rufus gave a return thumbs-up and hopped to Justin's shoulder, keeping the gas mask on.

"Where did those skunks come from?" Ron asked.

"I was about to ask you the same question!" Kim replied as she reattached her overall buckles as best as she could.

Rufus chittered and pointed to something on one of the skunk's legs.

"That looks like a tracking device of some sort," Kim remarked as the creatures scrambled through the van.

The stricken adults narrowed their eyes at the creatures as they ran about, noting an emblem on the tracking device.

"It's an Otterfly!" Kim said with a gasp. "I'll bet these skunks belong to Dr. Amy Hall!"

"Wow, KPS!" Ron said amazed. "How do you know?"

"I recognize a Cuddlebuddy when I see one!" Kim said. "You remember the time I went to the Cuddle-Con 2016 in Denver dressed in a Pandaroo that one time?"

"Oh...now I remember! You were trying to get a very rare Flamingoat plate!" Ron laughed.

"They only made thirty of them in the world! They were special editions!" Kim said. "But the point is, there are few people more passionate about Cuddlebuddies than me… And Dr. Hall is one of them."

Rufus was still chittering, pointing to the skunks.

"Don't worry buddy," Ron addressed his friend, "we didn't forget. Question number one, how did the skunks get here?"

"It must have happened in Limon or Eads," Kim replied. "Those are the only two places where we've stopped on our crazy trip so far. And I think we left the van door open in Eads…"

"Dr. Hall must have been at the truck stop," Ron replied. "Now, question number two... What do we do with these things?"

"Well, they're someone's future…pets…" Kim said with a cringe. "We can't just set them free."

She got her Kimmunicator 5.0 from the glove box and started looking up Dr. Hall, even though the Internet signal was growing weaker and weaker as they moved into the southeastern part of Colorado.

"After Dr. Hall went legit in 2011, she set up an adoption agency of animals throughout the Rockies and in the Midwest. Her headquarters is in Denver. She hopes to expand into the South, Great Lakes, and New England areas," she explained, summarizing the information on the redeemed DNAmy. "So she set up adoption centers all throughout the states that her agency is active in."

"Are there any right near where we are, Kim? Because, you know, we're on a time constraint to get that message to the Bueno Nacho in Sketchville!" Ron said, getting his own Ron-municator out to read the governor's updated declaration on the newly-deemed pandemic due to a sharp increase in cases. "The updated mandates about the whole pandemic thing does not take effect until 6:00pm. And I am quoting this from the website: 'Any restaurant caught serving dine-in to its customers after that period not only gets shut down but if it is an established fast-food chain, it cannot serve any takeout or pickup in certain locations due to severe health violations!'"

Kim pursed her lips. "Amazing that the Ron-municator is up to date, but your phone isn't? What is up with you and technology?"

Ron stared at her stone-faced, his worry about his favorite fast-food chain overriding everything else.

"If they shut the Middleton Bueno Nacho for curbside and takeout, I will go crazy!" Ron exclaimed. "That's the reason why I need to follow through on Henry's promise to deliver that message to the Sketchville Bueno Nacho before the governor's order takes effect at sundown!"

Kim understood what was at stake for her naco-starved husband, even though she did not like feeding his addiction.

"From what I skimmed about Dr. Hall, she usually put those adoption centers in cities and towns with a population of more than 2,000 people. So if we find any towns in southeastern Colorado with more than 2,000 people in them..."

"...We'll get rid of the skunks!" Ron remarked.

Kim glared at him.

Ron backed off. "Whoa, not literally, KPS! Dr. Hall will take good care of them!"

Kim smiled. "That's why we're getting Wade on this sitch."

A few button-pushes later, and Wade came onscreen.

"Hey, guys! How are you holding up with this craziness?" Wade asked. His expression changed to one of confusion as he noted their disheveled and yellow-stained appearance. "What happened to you two?"

"We're making the best of it. And skunk-ish sitch...don't ask," Kim said. "Are there any cities in the southeastern portion of the state that have over 2,000 people where Dr. Hall's animal adoption centers are located?"

Wade typed rapidly on his computer.

"And searching...done! Within the five counties of southeastern Colorado, (Bent, Otero, Prowers, Las Animas and Baca), there are four cities with populations greater than 2,000. They are Las Animas, La Junta, Trinidad, and Lamar. Of those four, Lamar would probably be your best bet."

He explained this as he searched for himself and found the Dr. Hall Cuddly Creature Adoption Center - Pickup Area location in the downtown area of the city.

"Dr. Hall sent you a message not long ago, Kim," Wade added. "Want me to play it for you?"

"Please and thank you!" Kim replied.

The video switched to the familiar face of Amy, who to their surprise was crying in the video.

"Ohh...Mrs. Possible-Stoppable, I need your help! I was delivering two pet skunks to Wyoming, and somehow, they escaped the truck! If you could help find the poor babies it would be greatly appreciated. They are so cuddly and cute… I named them Poopsie and Floopsie. I need them delivered to the adoption center in Lamar before they can go to my Wyoming facility. They're already vaccinated, but I still need to have the glands removed that cause them to…well, you know. So be careful. I'll really appreciate your help!"

The video ended and there was a moment of silence, the irony not lost on any of them. Wade cringed and waved goodbye.

"Okay, so… Lamar it is!" Ron said. "Once we drop the skunks off, we'll be on our way to Sketchville."

"Lamar is only twenty minutes from here, so it shouldn't take long," Kim replied. "But first, we have to get back on the highway."

"Say no more, KPS!"

Ron gunned it and the van, after chewing up more grass and mud, finally made its way back onto US 287.

"Man...this van smells worse than Whitestripe!"

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

College AU Week 1 Day 2 - Javier Pena

A/N: Day 2 of the January AU challenge and 300 follower celebration! I had so much fun writing this one and if you want a second smutty part I could be persuaded to do it. Thank you for every reblog, comment, and like. :) 

Pairing: Javier Pena x female reader 

Warning: 18 + (language, mentions of drug/alcohol use, reader has an ex boyfriend) 

My Masterlist 

My friend dragged me to this party, and I just saw my ex quick make out with me. 

Javier readjusted the tie in the mirror again for the twelfth time before ripping it off and opening up the top three buttons of the shirt. Tugging on his trusty leather jacket over the shirt and holstering his gun. Javier spent his life working as an on-campus security guard at the local University. Breaking up parties with underage drinking, busting students for narcotics use, and making sure they felt safe on campus. He took great pride in his job, and the pay wasn't awful. Although as he's gotten older over the last few years, he felt something was missing from his life. 

He joined some of the dating sites and apps that his buddy Steve, a history professor, suggested. Steve had met his wife, Connie, on one of the sites, and they seemed happy with their new baby girl Olivia so why not. It was a disaster. The dates were dull and expensive, each of them expecting him to dish out for them. He still slept with all of them, but nothing lasted for more than an evening of fun. It was cheaper and easier to pick someone up in a bar than find a relationship with someone. 

The newest guard at the station Daniel Van Ness had begged him to get out of the faculty party he had been assigned. Javier hated them just as much as the recruit, but by now, he had a few friends on the faculty, and it wouldn't be a total bore. He just needed to make sure no students crashed the party and that anyone who drank too much got home safe and not behind the wheel. It wasn't the most ideal event, but every dollar he made went back into the house fund. Javier had the goal of buying a house this year, and he was so close to making his goal. 

******* 

Across town, you readjusted the straps on your purple dress for the twelfth time. Faculty events were the bane of your existence. As a literature professor and the classics, you'd much rather spend the evening with a glass of whiskey, comfy couch, and a book. Instead, your friend Tata decided it would be fun if you tagged along this year. 

You hated events like these, but the President of the University insisted on these events to raise funds for the school. Although with the outrageous amount of money they collect from students and the way they badger former students for donations, the school should be rolling in the dough. 

Tata's husband was in commerce and owned a large shipping company across town. Tata ran the daycare the University used to teach students about business and childcare. She was one of the sweetest women you'd ever met, even if her husband did kind of give you the creeps. 

Your phone chimes and you smile at the party emojis from Tata and reply back that your on the way. Grabbing your black lace shawl and tossing it over your shoulders and your purse, plopping in your phone and heading for the party. Who knows, maybe it would all turn out for the better? 

Who the hell ever told you to be so optimistic? It's basically asking for trouble. The party was in full swing when you arrived. Well, as full swing as a party full of academics can be. The DJ was trying to play music people could dance to, but only a few were actually dancing, and it was mostly couples. Tata sees you instantly, and you almost groan at how effortless she looks. She's smaller than most people in the room, with cute shoulder-length brown hair that curls at the ends and a strapless purple dress with a thin see-through shawl around her shoulders. 

"You made it," she squeals and pulls you into a hug. 

You can't help but smile at her enthusiasm and return the hug, "Did you ever doubt me?" 

"Of absolutely! If I hadn't threatened to come and drag you out of that apartment, you wouldn't be here. But I am very glad you here, now Pablo owes me money, he bet against you." She grins and pinches her fingers together. 

"You and your husband had a bet to see if I would come to the faculty party?" You laugh, and she takes a sip, nodding. 

"Yes, the business has been a little slow lately, and you know my husband is always planning what's next. I needed something to keep his mind on me." 

You loved Tata, but her husband was really an asshole; you could smell the fake from a mile away. You see the bar and tell Tata you're going to get a drink, but she's already off like a butterfly floating around the room. You make your way over to the bar, order a whiskey on the rocks and take a small sip turning around the room and scoping out the scene. 

Your eyes lock in on the movement in the corner. From the shadows emerges, someone new from the usual faculty crowd. He's tall and broad as hell in a black leather jacket thrown over a light blue button-up the top three buttons undone exposing his chest, tucked into dark wash jeans. You observe the holster around his waist tucked under the coat and the badge. He must be campus security, and it's almost like he can feel your eyes on him. He looks up from the shadows, and your eyes meet. 

Holy fuck. 

His eyes captivate you and suck you in like the swirling vortex of a tornado. Sucking you in deeper and deeper into his soul. It's electric. You see his lips curve up in a small smile, and his mustache rises, and all you can imagine is how it would feel against your lips if you kissed him. He takes a step in your direction, and you move a step closer before someone is shouting your name. You freeze and turn, looking at the door, mouth agape. 

Your ex-boyfriend Roberto Ramos is striding over to you wearing tan dress pants and a blue and white striped polo. You grimace, looking back over towards the handsome stranger and then back at Poison. Tata's little nickname she came up with after you broke up and realized how honestly much of a scumbag he was. You make the split decision, and place down your drink and walk quickly over to the guard. He raises one eyebrow as you race over to him. 

You throw your arms around his neck, and he places his on your waist. "Save me, please," you whisper, looking at him with wide eyes, "that's my ex over there, and I really want him to leave me alone. If it looks like we're here together, he won't approach." 

"That one?" he nods, and you try to look over the corner of your eye and see Poison freeze watching you. You shake a yes and smile at the guard. "Seems like a fascinating guy," he deadpans, and you laugh, making him smile down at you. "What do you need me to do? Get rid of him? He's just staring at us." He whispers conspiratorially, grinning at you. 

"Kiss me," the words are out of your mouth before you can think, "make out with me, and he will leave me alone." His smile drops, and he looks between your eyes and lips before nodding. His head drops, and he tentatively connects his lips with your own. He presses once then twice, taking a step closer to you and running his fingers up your neck and dipping your head back, deepening the kiss. 

You gasp and grasp the lapels of his leather jacket, his arms winding around your shoulders and pulling you even closer, no space between you. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, and you open, feeling him lick inside your mouth. His tongue tangling up with your own. You moan lowly, and he takes a step further into the shadows and into the hallway away from the party. Your back connects with the wall, and you let out a small grunt before you run your fingers through his hair and tug gently. He groans and pushes a knee between your legs spreading them—your panties rubbing against the fabric of his jeans. The feeling between your legs is enough to snap you back to reality. 

"Wait," you pull away panting, he drops his head to your shoulder, letting out hurried breaths before he slowly raises his eyes, resting his forehead against yours. 

"Too much?" he asks, nervously chuckling. 

"Not enough, to be honest," you look into his eyes and smile. "That was...fucking amazing, but we shouldn't really have sex across the hall from a faculty party." 

His cute little eyebrow raises again, "Oh, is that where this was headed? I thought you just needed me to escape your ex?" 

You laugh, "Well, if he doesn't get the hint now, I think I may need to file a restraining order." 

"I can help you with that if you need it," you smile and kiss him again, loving the feel of his mustache brushing against your lip. 

"I don't think he will be a problem anymore, but...maybe I am a little nervous about going home right now, ya know, in case he shows up…" 

"Well, we can't have that. Would you like to maybe spend the night over at my place?" You match his smile and nod, "for safety, right?" 

"Oh yeah, for safety," you take his hand, and he intertwines your fingers. 

"I need to stay till the end of the party for work," he looks down at his watch, "we got about two hours. Do you think you can make it that long?" 

"Can I stay near you?" he nods, and raises your intertwined hands to his lips, and kisses your knuckles. 

"On one condition," he teases, "you have to tell me your name." You laugh, letting him know your name, and he smiles, telling you his. Javier Pena. The name rolls off your tongue, and he groans before kissing you again. "This is going to be the longest two hours of my life." 

"Well, if you make it through this party, I can tell you the after-party will be much for enjoyable." He moans, and his eyes darken. 

"I can't wait." 

Taglist: @josepedropascal​ @mrschiltoncat​ @mrsparknuts​ @ghostwiththemostbitch​ @zannemes​ @oldstuffnewstuff​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @heythere-mel​ @justanotherblonde23​ @artsymaddie​ @anetteaneta​ @lunarthoughts​ @aellynera​ @lucifer-​ @houseofthirst​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @chicken-ona-stick​ 

[torialeysha]

Cold feet - Part. 17

A tailored twist.

Song: Royal Blood - Out of the black

The house was more like a mansion. A lone, vast, Victorian structure that was nestled perfectly by the sea. It’s white painted facade blended seamlessly in to the clouds that decorated the pale blue sky above. The tidy surrounding grounds stretching for miles, and rooted right in front, next to the gravelly driveway was an evergreen, spirally branched monkey puzzle tree. It was nothing less than celestial. A piece of heaven that you could call home.

It was the first morning you hadn’t suffered from sickness and apart from the exhaustion you felt from exploring and getting acquainted with your new house, you felt a lot brighter than you had done in weeks. A brightness which was soon to be disturbed by your anxious thoughts worrying about what was transpiring back in London; What was Charles thinking now you hadn’t returned? Would he have gone to your mothers thinking you was there? You hoped not. Your mother was innocent, you didn’t want her getting dragged into all this.

You tensed when a strong set of arms circled your waist then relaxed instantly when you felt Alfie’s beard tickle your neck as he planted a kiss there.

“Have you managed to get hold of him yet?” You asked him about Tommy.

“Na.” He sighed into your hair. “What about Ada?”

“I tried the hotel but they said she checked out yesterday.” You replied. Disappointed you hadn’t been able to get in touch but grateful that she was away from this spiralling mess.

“Try not to worry, pet. We’ll sort it.”

You nodded faintly, unable to share or find comfort in his resolute optimism. You leaned back into him and pulled his arms tighter around you as if the security of his burly prison would grant you the extra reassurance you needed.

“Shall we go for a walk on the beach?” You suggested a suitable, much desired distraction.

“I can’t today, Yahalom... I’ve gotta pop back to London.” He explained almost casually.

“What?” You choked, turning in his arms to check the seriousness of his excuse.

“I’ve some loose ends I need to tie up and I’ve gotta pick up Cyril as wel-“

“Can’t you get someone else to do all that for you?” You interrupted sharply.

“There’s things that need my personal attention. Signatures and suc-“

“-Then I’m coming back with you.” You told him before he could once again finish.

“No, you’re not.” He scoffed.

“I need to go back!” You insisted sternly. “I need to collect some things. I’m going to need more clothes.”

“I brought all the clothes you left at mine. They’re in the wardrobe. Anything else you need I’ll buy for you.”

“You can’t stop me from coming with you.”

“Wanna bet?” He challenged.

“You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you? That’s why you don’t want me tagging along. You’re going back there to try and handle this yourself.” You surmised with an increasing dread tightening your insides.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous!” He huffed. “I’ve got unfinished business back there thanks to our sudden and fortuitous get away yesterday. So I need to go back and sort ‘em out today. And you coming with me means I ain’t gonna be able to deal with anything because I’ll be too busy worrying about what you’re getting up to.” He stipulated brusquely.

“Oh don’t give me that, Alf. You could still worry about me down here on my own. I Could fall and hit my head. Anything could happen.”

“I’ve thought of that.” He agreed with a nod. “That’s why I’ve arranged for Ishmael and Daniel to come down and keep an eye on you while I’m gone.”

“Babysitters?”

“Peace of mind, pet.” He corrected.

“What about my peace of mind?” You demanded. Alfie returning to London for any amount of time made you feel ill with unease.

“I’m old enough and ugly enough look after myself, in’t I? I won’t be long, a few hours at most.”

The shrill ring of the doorbell interrupted your stand off and stopped you from arguing further.

Neither of you moved to answer it.

“I don’t wanna leave ‘ere on an argument, Yahalom.”

“Then don’t leave.”

He sighed heavily. “The sooner I go, the sooner I can get back.”

The bell rung again.

“Fuck sake! Hold on a minute!” Alfie roared towards the closed front door.

“Please, my love. I’m begging you, don’t go back there until you’ve spoken to Tommy. At least see what he has to say about all this.” Desperately your pained eyes beseeched him to stay.

“I don’t need to run anything past anyone. I handle my own business, right.” He gritted angrily.

“That’s not what I meant-“ You were cut off by the bell ringing a third time followed by knuckles rapping loudly on the door.

“Are them cunts deaf?” Alfie bellowed before turning his broad, slightly hunched shoulders and marching to the front door.

You followed him, stopping at the bottom of the staircase which stood opposite the door.

“Fine, go back without me.” You told him just as he reached for the door handle. “But be Warned, if you’re not back here by dusk then I’ll be on my way to London to look for you.” You threatened, abruptly turning on your heel and retreating up the stairs, leaving him to greet your babysitters. 

Alfie grunted, muttering something in Yiddish as he answered the door.

“What took you so long?” Alfie demanded as way of a greeting.

“Sorry, boss. The traffic was a joke.” Daniel explained.

“I’m gonna be fucking late now.” Alfie moaned. “Listen carefully...” He carried on in a hushed tone. “Don’t let ‘er out of your sight, right. And under no fucking circumstances let her leave ‘ere.”

With a vicious foreboding you observed Alfie leave from the bedroom window. You had purposely bid him a cold and transient farewell in hopes he would realise the purgatory he was subjecting you to and maybe change his mind, but it appeared he was determined in his return. Now without the consolation of a proper goodbye, you watched with choked desolation and worry as he left.

Aided by his cane, he trudged towards his automobile. He opened the car door and hesitated. Turning at the hip, his eyes rose to the bedroom window and connected with yours. Your breath caught in the back of your throat, your sweaty palm pressing against the frame of the window to steady your wavering.

“Please come back to me safely and in one piece.” You implored him quietly.

He winked as if hearing your silent plea and with one last longing look he was gone.

You peeled yourself away from the window once he had driven out of sight and debated how you could occupy yourself over the next few hours so they wouldn’t be longer and more gut wrenchingly painful than they was already going to be. The first thing you decided to do was call your mother to make sure she was ok and to see if Charles had popped by looking for you.

You chose to use the phone in Alfie’s office, the four walls that were predominantly him supplying your heavy heart with comfort from his absence.

Lifting the receiver of the telephone, you asked to operator to put you through.

A mess of papers littered Alfies desk and you tried to put order to them as you waited for the call to connect. A piece of paper scribbled with an address of one of Alfie’s warehouses and a time of 12 o’clock stole your attention.

The call connected the same time as the ring of the doorbell. Your brow furrowed at the unexpected noise coming from downstairs. Maybe it was Alfie having forgotten something. Thinking no more of it, you left it to one of the men to answer it.

“Hello?” Your mothers voice croaked impatiently a second time down the line.

“Mum? Are you ok?” You asked, relieved to hear her voice.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me. Are you ok?” You asked again but her reply was drowned out by a sudden fracas erupting from downstairs. You held the receiver away from your ear to garner more clearly what was unfolding. Two loud, horribly familiar bangs pierced the air followed by silence. You jumped up from Alfie’s desk with a gasp, your mothers questioning voice still tumbling down the receiver that was rattling in your now trembling grasp.

“I’ll call you back.” You murmured quickly and put the phone down.

Resisting the urge, somewhat instinctively to call out and break the deafening silence, you instead left Alfies office and proceeded tentatively downstairs to investigate. Your cautious steps grinded to a harrowing halt as you came face to face with Luca Changretta. Time seemed to stand still as shock sucked the air from your lungs and robbed you of your ability to scream. In your peripheral vision you saw the bodies of Ishmael and Daniel, both covered in crimson and lying motionless on the floor. 

Transfixed with utter disbelief and fear, your wide and frightened eyes focused back on the Sicilian devil and his two minions. Luca removed the matchstick he was chewing on and gave you a discerningly wicked grin, revealing in just a look that he knew everything. Coming to your senses, you turned instantly and flighted back up the stairs away from him.

“Get her.” You heard him order his two henchmen who padded heavily up the stairs after you.

You took the steps hurriedly, two at a time just making it to the top when your foot clumsily clipped the last step. You lost balance, stumbling forward and smashing your head unforgivingly on the opposing wall. Dazed, you tried scrambling to your feet in a last ditch attempt to escape but the blow to your head wouldn’t allow it. With a helpless groan you sunk dizzily back to the floor. Your surroundings became foggy and the chasing shadows blocked out all light as they neared. Any effort at fleeing was now futile but still you persisted, clawing your way desperately along the carpeted floor, not giving up until you felt a pair of forceful hands tug at your waist.

Alfie drove straight from Margate to his warehouse where he had arranged to meet Luca Changretta. He waited a full 45 minutes before a van pulled in to join him. He watched carefully as Luca emerged from the passenger seat followed by his men. Alfie was outnumbered by two, and quickly his mind weighed up the probabilities of him walking out of there alive. He concluded that the odds were in his favour considering what they had arranged in their first meeting; Luca needed Alfie to take one of his men as his second to the fight in Birmingham so they could get to Thomas Shelby and kill him. Making Alfie a indispensable asset - for now anyway.

“You’re late!” Alfie’s voice boomed, echoing through the expanse of the bare warehouse. “Now you better tell me what the fuck this is all about, mate? I mean we’ve made the fucking deal, in’t we? What more is there to say?”

“We made the deal Mr. Solomons.” Luca agreed. “But the truth is I don’t fucking trust you.” The matchstick in his mouth rolled from one side to the other. “Ya see, I’ve heard a lot about the devious reputation you’re notorious for Mr. Solomons. And you selling out your peaky pal, it got me thinking that I need some sort of... insurance, in case that fickle brain of yours is planning on double-crossing me.”

“What the fuck you on about?” Alfie frowned deeply.

“You’re a tough nut to crack Mr. Solomons, I’ll give ya that. No close family, no wife or children. I dug deep looking for some way in which I could feel more secure in our deal but I couldn’t find a fucking thing... But then our mutual friend Sabini told me something very interesting. Ya see, he had the great fortune of bumping into a whore that you’ve been seeing.” Luca removed the matchstick from his mouth and pointed it at Alfie, his eyes gleaming dangerously. “And, well...according to her, you’re not as untouchable as I thought... I just can’t believe it’s been right under my nose all this time.”

Vacantly, Alfie stared at him. “Well it’s fucking big enough, innit. I mean, I’m surprised you can see fuck all with a conk like that...”

Luca’s teeth caught the match he was chewing and bit down on it hard.

“Listen mate, if you wanted to know the size of my cock you should’ve just asked instead of chasing rumours like a headless fucking chicken. Now, why you’d be foolish enough to trust the word of a whore, I don’t know. But it still doesn’t change the fact that I ain’t got a clue what you’re rambling on about. So do us both a favour, yeah, stop beating round the bush with that smarmy fucking arrogance of yours and lay your cards on the table.” Alfie spouted stoically. Although he had begun to feel heavy with apprehension.

“Ok. I figured you’d play dumb.” Luca gave a blasé nod, then signalled to his right hand man. “Matteo! Lay my cards on the table for Mr. Solomons. Let’s see if that will help jog his memory.”

Alfies heart leapt up in to his mouth as he watched with knitted brows, Matteo step to the back of the van they had arrived in and pull the doors open wide. He reached into the back and dragged you from the vehicle. Bound and gagged you could do no more than comply. You were planted on your feet and guided forcefully forward. Your watery, bloodshot eyes bulging as they raised from the ground and fell upon a morosely stunned Alfie. A muffled version of his name erupted helplessly from your throat but was silenced by the material wedged in your mouth.

Alfie stood aghast, seized with an impotent anger. His body trembled from head to toe with an agonising rage that he was struggling to contain. It had finally happened; what he dreaded the most, what he fought diligently for so long to avoid.

“Not so fucking cocky now are we Mr. Solomons.” Luca smirked, strolling to your side.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, mate.” Alfie started tensely. “Me and ‘er was just a bit of fun, right. She don’t mean nothing like that to me.” His forged confession sounded pitiful even to his own ears but out of desperation for your safety it was all he could do.

“Is that so? Then you won’t mind if I blow her fucking brains out.” Luca mocked, producing a gun from his belt. You flinched when the cold metal of the narrow muzzle landed at your temple.

Alfie growled, immediately whipping his own gun from the waistband of his trousers and pointing it at Luca. Automatically Luca’s henchmen drew their weapons and directed them at Alfie.

“As I thought.” Unfazed, Luca clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “It’s amazing what good pussy can do to a man.” He hummed, sliding the gun down your tear soaked face to your breasts. When the material of your dress stopped him from going any further he cocked his head disdainfully in Alfie’s direction, his thin lips curling up into a superior smirk.

“It pains me to see you like this Mr. Solomons.” He lied, enjoying the power he had over the squirming Jew. “But your dirty little secret’s out. You might as well put your weapon down and give it up.”

“Let ‘er go now or the deal’s off.” Alfie warned tightly.

Deal? You thought. What deal?

“You’re a funny guy, Mr Solomons, thinking I’m going to let go of something this priceless that easily. This here is my insurance. This here is giving me the absolute confidence that I needed to ensure that you don’t fuck me over.” Luca rasped. “Nothing’s changed, the deal still goes ahead as we planned and I still honour your costs for doing so. Then once the deed is done, I meet you outside of Birmingham and hand back the girl. As I’m sure you can understand, it’s nothing personal, just business... I mean, I suppose it is a lil personal actually considering Y/N’s meant to be betrothed to my cousin.” He glared in your direction.

“Na, that’s not gonna happen, mate - Because trust works both ways dunnit and I know for a fact, right, that you ain’t got no intentions of handing her back, dun’ I?”

“And what makes you say that?” Luca asked, seemingly bemused.

“Well once this deed’s done and I’ve fulfilled my part of it, it’ll make no difference to you if I’m dead or alive, will it? So granted, you’ll meet me outside Birmingham afterwards with the girl but only to put a bullet in my head and hers. So unless we come to some sort of compromise, the deal is off.”

“And what compromise do you suggest?”

“I want ‘er at the fight. I want eyes on ‘er the whole time-“

“-You want me to send her to the fight unaccompanied?” An incredulous Luca interrupted Alfie. “What, so you can run off into the sunset together before Shelby’s been dealt with and screw me over? No, no, no. She’ll need a chaperone at least. Someone I can trust...” He thought for a moment, and while he deliberated your mind struggled to process what you were hearing. Alfie had made a deal with Changretta to kill Thomas. You sobbed, shaking your head vigorously in protest, wishing it wasn’t so, wishing that your life didn’t now depend on it.

“Charles - as her rightful fiancé, he will accompany her.” Luca’s proposition quietened you but your inner turmoil worsened. “I’m assuming that’s no longer the case now though, huh?” He addressed you. “I wonder what he’ll have to say about all this.” He tutted.

“That’s not happening either.” Alfie told him through gritted teeth.

“Mr. Solomons.” Luca sighed exasperated. “You’re acting as if you have a choice in the matter. Be grateful, huh? You requested a compromise and I’ve given you one. Y/N will be at the fight as you wish, with Charles who I trust and who’ll be under strict instructions to behave himself. Then once it’s done he’ll hand her over. However, I want to make myself clear, Mr. Solomons, any funny business before my men carry out their duty, then all bets are off.”

“Alright.” Alfie grunted. “But let me also make myself clear, yeah, if any harms done to her, I will unleash it back on to the lot of you fucking threefold, mate. Make no mistake about it.”

Luca grinned. “Let me assure you that Y/N will be in safe hands. She’ll be heavily guarded until the fight... bare that in mind if your thinking about attempting a rescue, it would be a shame to ruin that beautiful face of hers just because you’ve tried to be a hero.”

Alfie said no more but you could tell he was seething. His furious gaze moved from Luca to you, his eyes softening ruefully. Tears fell helplessly down your cheeks as you stared back at him, your anguished look willing him wordlessly not to go through with it.

“I’ve gotta say it’s refreshing to see this softer side to you Mr. Solomons.” Luca admitted teasingly. “Let me tell ya, if I had a heart it’d be breaking right now - but I don’t, so now we’ve come to an understanding, Imma get this show back on the road.” Luca grabbed one of your shackled arms and tugged you backwards towards the van, pulling harder as you tried to resist, Alfie lurched forward angrily to intervene, stopping when Luca’s henchmen once again drew their weapons on him.

“Remember what I said about being a hero, Mr. Solomons.” Luca Cautioned. “Don’t worry, just a couple more days and you’ll be reunited.” Luca reasoned as he bundled you into the back of the van and slammed the doors.

“Oh, and I have to apologise...” You heard Luca’s muffled voice continue through the metal of van.

“I made a bit of an unavoidable mess in that beautiful house of yours. Just add the cost of the clean up to the bill.”

The van wobbled as the men occupied the front seats

“Toodle pip.” Luca bid Alfie farewell in a mock British accent, and the engine of the van roared, then after a beat the it took off, throwing you forward. Unable to keep balance you collapsed weakly onto your back and just laid there, staring into the darkness. Visions of Luca’s smug mug and Alfies tortured frown plagued your mind, followed by the horrendous, gory image of Ischmael and Daniels expired bodies; their blood spent at your expense. Then your imagination ran wild with the things that hadn’t happened yet. Like the treacherous murder of Thomas Shelby, and the anger, pain and plotted vengeance of the peaky gang for the loss of their leader and kin... But possibly worse than that - due mainly to its imminence, was the dreaded notion of having to face Charles. Luca’s words rung hauntingly in your head

‘ wonder what Charles will have to say about all this?’

You wasn’t worried so much about what Charles was going to say but more so about what he was going to do...

Previous

Tag list: @storm-bjorn @alsheyra @lililolli @jaegers-and-kaijus @lightwoodt @stars-trash-18 @anrm1 @innerpaperexpertcloud @alitheamateur @hardygal69

[nancythebisexualslutwheeler]

“I have an extra ticket to the football game, do you want to go with me?” Bev asks, hopping onto the lunch table, her ass way too close to Stan’s peanut butter and jelly.

Stan wrinkles his nose. Football is... so not his scene. Not Bev’s either, but her boy-toy of the moment Ben Hanscom was on the team, and while Stan was pretty sure they had some sort of agreement that ended in pot or pills, Bev was still one of the most supportive women he knew, and she was at every game, freezing her little hipster ass off, cheering for Ben, who she insisted she barely gave a shit about.

The only reason Stan may consider going is because of Ben’s best friend, Mike Hanlon. Mike was literally everything Stan’s Jewish ass was not allowed to have, starting with him being a boy, ending with him being black, and the fact that he was actually queer too, falling somewhere in between.

“I guess,” he shrugs. He tries to hold in a grin, but Bev raises a perfectly filled in eyebrow and he blushes and she wrinkles her nose and her silver septum piercing shines in the sunlight and he shoves half his sandwich into his mouth so he doesn’t have to talk.

Stan isn’t allowed sleepovers, never has been, even though he’s seventeen goddamn years old, but his curfew had recently gotten extended to midnight.

Trying not to feel too much like Cinderella, he dresses in a baby blue crew neck and khaki joggers. He slides on his maroon vans, the ones that were covered in song lyrics, pockets his phone and wallet and starts to walk up to the school.

The game is boring. Their team is amazing, and they’ve won before they’d even started. It doesn’t mean that Mike doesn’t look delicious in his uniform. The maroon does wonders for his dark skin and the way the sleeves are a bit suctioned to his bulging biceps. The way the pants pull tight across his ass. The way his calves tighten as he bounces on his toes.

He wishes this was the part in the story where he could reveal that him and Mike are secretly boning underneath the bleachers after practice, but Mike barely knows him.

Stan’s the weird Jewish kid who hangs around Bev because she’s the only one who can stomach his weirdness. Who hasn’t been able to eat any mutual snacks or participate in classroom birthday parties for their entire school careers. Stan who misses random days of school for his holidays.

Stan who’s had a crush on Mike since they were 11 and Mike saved him from nearly drowning on their stupid ass class trip up north. He’d probably forgotten about it, in a way that you do when you become popular and everything before your popularity becomes a blur. At least that’s how he thinks it works.

So they’re standing at the bottom of the bleachers, waiting for Ben to come out so they can go grab food. He’s shivering, he should have brought a sweater like his mom told him, when Ben and.. Mike walk up.

“Hey,” Ben ducks in to give Bev a kiss and Stan awkwardly waves at Mike,

“Good game.”

Mike smiles, his white teeth against brown skin. He’s wearing his letterman jacket and a white shirt and a silver chain and bright orange sneakers. He looks amazing. His twists need to be redone and he hasn’t shaved in a couple of days but he looks perfect.

“Thanks Uris. Hope you don’t mind me tagging along.”

“Not at all.”

“Okay cool. Let’s go. Preferably somewhere I can eat for real,” Mike says as they head to the parking lot.

“Fine fine, what’s that place with the good milkshakes.”

“Sally’s. We can go there.”

“Bet. You drive Stan ok? Bev and I are gonna stop and smoke before.”

As much as Stan would love to try drugs, more to fit in than anything probably, he also very much likes to live.

“You don’t smoke?” He asks, as they climb into Mike’s truck.

“My black ass? Intentionally doing something illegal? In Derry? Get the fuck outta here.”

Stan laughs even though it isn’t funny and when he looks over, Mike is laughing too.

“Hey, wanna ditch them and go back to my place? The barn is really cool at night. Mom hung up some lights so we could rent it out during the off season.”

Stan smiles, bright as the sun,

“I think I’d like that.”

[tillthelandslide]

Jersey Love (Part 2) : Coffee Date

Hi everyone, here’s part 2 of Jersey Love, I really hope you all love it as much as I do. I am having a lot of fun writing this series... I love you all for all of the amazing support you have offered. Warning: 4.5k words haha - L

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(if you would like to be added to my tag list, feel free to message me, if you are new to my blog then I post Henry Cavill fanfics and make Henry Cavill fake Instagram posts, my requests are open so feel free to request anything and I will try my best to make your vision come to life)  

Part 1

Coffee Date

The next day you and Henry had agreed to go out for some coffee. You agreed to meet at 10am but you arrived a little early to ensure you weren't late, you hated being tardy so often arrived way in advance. You went to this coffee shop a lot so the staff knew you and knew your order. A teenage girl called Jess had greeted you on your way in. She was your neighbour and she kind of became attached to you when you moved in next door, she referred to you as her cool older friend and you became her role model as she wanted to work with animals too. She led you to a table near the back of the shop. The shop was quite a new place and had a hipster looking decor, instead of the usual café chairs and tables, the shop had booths like a diner and Jess led you to one which seated 4.

"Would you like your usual Yn?" she said making you smile, she was such a sweet girl and was always so kind to you.

"I'm actually waiting for someone but thank you Jess" you said, making her smile and nod, she tucked her pad into her apron before beginning to speak again.

"Molly told me you have a date with Henry Cavill, is that true?" she whispered, making you laugh, Molly was the same age as you and owned the shop (she was the main reason you came to the shop), you told her that you had a date and she had asked who the lucky guy was. 

"It is. You're going to have to promise me not to freak out when he's here though" you said, making her nod, you knew she was a fan of Henry’s work, she had told you the first time you had met her. You remember asking her what it was like living in Jersey and she said “I like it here for now, but I want to leave when I grow up… grandma says nobody makes it out of Jersey...expect Henry Cavill”. She then went on to tell you how she had seen all his movies (her favourite was man of steel) and she couldn’t believe he grew up in Jersey, she has also told you that she had never met him before but wanted to.

A couple of minutes later, Henry had arrived, greeting the staff as he came in, you texted him before telling him where you were sitting so he came over to your straight away. You checked him out as he came in, your eyes scanning him up and down. His hair was styled perfectly, a few curls loose in front of his face which made him look even hotter, you swore he had gotten bigger and he was dressed very stylishly again, wearing jeans and a turtle neck and he had a pair of glasses adorning his face.

"Hello" he said, coming to stand next to where you were sitting, you placed your palms on the leather of the booth's seat, pushing yourself up so you were close to Henry as he placed a kiss on your cheek before sitting down opposite you.

"Hi." you said, leaning forward on your hands, admiring him just a bit longer.

"You look lovely as always" he said, making you blush again. You were dressed very casually in a cozy white cropped jumper, black skinny jeans and a pair of vans. Your hair was styled in loose curls, drooping behind your shoulders, two pieces at the front which always strayed from the rest framing your face.

"As do you. Very dashing" you said, making him giggle. Jess came back over saying hello to Henry who smiled and said hello back.

"Hi, welcome to Molly’s, my name is Jess and I will be taking your order, if you need anything, just call me over. What can I get for the both of you?" she said, pulling out her notepad, you always found the little introduction they had to say very cute, especially when she did it. You had insisted that she didn’t have to do it with you but you guess she did it because you weren’t alone.

"Hi Jess. Could I have a plain black coffee please?" Henry said, offering Jess a smile as he spoke, which made her blush, before he looked back at you.

"The usual please Jess, thank you" you said, still resting your head in your palms. Just when he thought you couldn't get any cuter. Jess walked away and you saw her wink at you and mouth "he's so hot" which made you giggle behind your hand.

"You have a usual" he said, sounding impressed.

"Yeah. It's shameful really" you said, pushing your hair behind your ear.

"Why's that?" he said, finding himself leaning forward too.

"I come in here way too much. It's on the way to work so I pop in to say hello and get my morning coffee. Molly, the owner is my friend… I think I pay their rent with how much I send here" you said, making Henry laugh, Henry loved how you had your own little routine.

"That's great. Bet they love you here" he said making you giggle.

"Hmm. Not sure about that… It is nice to know Molly though, she lets me try out new cakes she’s made… for free" you said making Henry chuckle.Jess then bought both your drinks over on a tray, placing the black coffee in front of Henry with a biscuit and some sugar and placing the other drink in front of you with a your favourite biscuit.

"Thank you, that was very quick." Henry said with an impressed tone. Jess blushed deeply making you smile widely.

"Jess here is the star worker of this establishment" you said, making her roll her eyes at you and chuckle.

"Thanks Yn, you only think that because I make sure they have your favourite biscuits everytime you come here" she said, smiling at you and making Henry chuckle at her which made her eyes sparkle.

“And I love you for it” you said, making Jess laugh before she walked off.

"She's my neighbour. And a huge fan of yours, I might add, don’t let her know I told you." you said, making Henry laugh before saying "It will be our little secret, she’s really sweet" which made you want to hug him because he was just so kind.

"What's that then?" he said pointing at your drink.

"It's my own little secret." you said, taking a sip, Henry raised his eyebrows at you, to which you copied making you laugh.

"Try some." you said, offering him the cup.

"Hmm I don't know Yn, you could be trying to poison me" he said, but then took a sip. You saw the look of pure satisfaction cross his face before he closed his eyes, humming deeply, his tongue flicked out along his bottom lip to get another taste. You clenched your thighs together at the sight.

"Oh that's good. What is it?" he said, making you shake your head and take another sip.

"You're really not going to tell me?" he said, chuckling, pulling your cup towards him and taking another sip.

"Hey, you’ve got your own!" you giggled, making him laugh and to which he said “But yours is better” before he pushed it back towards you.

"So what have you been up to besides work?" he said, drinking his drink and looking into your eyes. His concentration never on anything other than you.

"Nothing much really. Work has been super busy recently, I've only really had time to work out, eat and sleep. I make sure Jess comes over as much as she can." you said, making him smile, he was so interested in what you do.

"What have you been up to at work then?" he asked again, his hand resting against the table making you want to reach out and hold it.

"We've mainly been trying to enrich our current conservation projects and assessing if they're working and trying to figure out how we can improve them. I've also taken up some more keeper duties because one of the keepers is on maternity leave, it's fun but can be quite tiring, especially when I have a full day of meetings after" you said smiling, your job made you happy so you couldn't help but smile.

"That sounds amazing Yn." he said.

"What about you Hen? How was filming?" you said, you knew you asked this question last night but you didn't really get to hear a genuine answer.

"It was amazing. I'm so excited for everyone to see this. I've been a huge fan of the Witcher games for years and now the books too and playing Geralt was an honor. I chased down this opportunity and was over the moon when Lauren cast me" he said, making you smile at how passionate he was about it.

"Couldn't imagine you with white hair, yellow eyes and scars everywhere" you said, leaning forward and tracing where Geralts scars are in the games. You quickly pulled back when you realised how weird that must have been.

"Sorry. Just trying to picture it. I'm a big fan of the games too. And the books" you said quickly trying to recover from how embarrassing that was, seriously Yn, who the heck just touches someone’s face you thought, blushing a deep shade of red.

"I don't mind at all love. And really? That's cool, more stuff we have in common" he said, finding more things out about you that he liked.

"The trailer comes out soon so you'll see what I look like then, not trying to give too much away because I could get in trouble but I don’t have scars across my face like Geralt in the games does" he said, winking at you.

"Bet you still look hot though" you said, a smirk on your lips, you said it to see what reaction you got back.

"Obviously" he replied, you were glad he didn't tease you, but instead made light of it. Deep down he had butterflies at the fact you called him hot.

"How long are you here for?" you said, you had finished your drink but had your hands wrapped around it to keep them warm.

"Until the new year" he said positively, happy he was here for a couple of months.

"Wow that long huh? No filming to be done?" you said, you pushed your cup to the other side of the table, placing your hand against the table, the other rested in between your legs.

"Trying to get rid of me already?" he said, jesting with you. You shook your head and pushed your hand forward a bit more, wanting him to hold it.

"We've finished all the filming and press tours so I'm free as a bird for now" he said, grasping your hand in his, finally you thought, glad that he had the courage to do it because you sure didn’t.

"I'm glad. Many plans?" you said, glancing down at your cup before flashing your eyes back up into his, before he got the chance to answer your phone started ringing.

"Shit I'm so sorry, I'll turn it off" you said, making him shake his head.

"It's okay, answer it" he said, you pulled your hand from his, it instantly felt cold as you took your phone out from your pocket, Henry saw a picture of you and the guy from yesterday and saw the name "Lewis"

"Hey Lew. Can I call you back? I'm on a date with Henry" you said, looking at Henry and seeing him smile. He thought it must have been going well for you to tell someone about it so openly.

"I know. I hate to interrupt but Josie needed me to tell you that you don’t need to work tomorrow, she’s got someone to fill your shift on keeper duties, she said you’ve been working too hard." he said.

"That's great news Lewis, thanks for letting me know, tell Josie I said thanks too. I'm with Henry, can I call you back later?" you said making him laugh over the phone.

"How's it going? Fuck yet?" he said, laughing loudly making you pull the phone away from your ear and rolling your eyes at Henry making him laugh.

"Goodbye Lewis." you said hanging up and placing your phone back in your pocket.

"Sorry about that, my friend and colleague Lewis called" you said, tucking the same bit of hair that always falls in front of your eyes, behind your ear.

"Everything okay?" he said, his hand reaching out to hold yours again making your stomach flutter.

"Yeah, the keeper manager just wanted to let me know I don't have to work my keeper duties tomorrow" you said, squeezing his hand.

”So no plans tomorrow then?” he said, he raised his eyebrows suggestively making you smirk.

“That is correct yes, what’s going on in that head of yours Hen?” you said, giggling to yourself making his face light up. He loved how you already called him Hen.

“Would you want to go on a walk with me tomorrow? You can meet my dog and we could have a picnic” he said, you could see the excitement on his face and it made your heart flutter.

“That sounds perfect.” you said, squeezing his hand.

“I’m curious, what was your favourite character to play?” you asked making him smile, he loved that you were interested in him and he appreciated the fact you didn’t ask the same questions that interviewers asked.

“Ooh that’s a hard one. I’ve honestly loved them all for different reasons. Superman will always have a special place in my heart. I also loved playing August Walker, I had never really played a primary antagonist before so that was interesting” he said, the thought on his face was truly adorable and it made you smirk to yourself, a couple of lines appeared on his forehead when he thought and you wanted nothing more than to reach over and smooth them out but you decided against it.

“I loved Fall Out, Jess made me watch it and I have to say Henry.. The moustache works really well for you. Not many guys could pull that off” you said making him chuckle.

“Thanks, I grew to love it but was glad when it was gone” he said.

“Would you ever grow it back?”

“For the right role” he nodded.

“Shame” you said making him furrow his eyebrows again, the same creases appearing.

“Why’s that?” he said, leaning forward slightly, your faces close together.

“You looked really hot” you said, making him cough nervously which just made you smirk. He thought wow this girl really likes messing with me and leant back a little bit, not knowing what to say.

“Your fans sure think so.” you said, squeezing his hand.

“Haha, maybe I’ll grow it back” he said, making you giggle.

“Maybe not yet, Geralt with a moustache…I’m just not seeing it” you said, both of you laughing loudly.

“Do you want to stay here for a bit longer? Or we could go somewhere else?” he asked.

“We could go somewhere else?” you said making him nod.

“My car is just outside, I could show you my house, you can meet my cats” you said, making Henry smile.

“Yeah I’m up for that. Didn’t picture you as a cat person” he said making you chuckle.

“I’m both. I love dogs but I grew up with cats, when I moved here we agreed as a family that it's best if I am the one to look after our family cats” you said, making Henry nod along.

“Ready to leave then?” he said, making you nod, you called Jess over.

"Don't work too hard now okay? Still up for coming round on the weekend for a movie night?" you said, the both of you standing up. She nodded and hugged you tightly. 

“It was lovely to meet you Jess” Henry said, shaking her hand which made her blush again. The both of you then left, and you walked Henry to your car. It was a black audi and Henry imagined you driving something smaller but thought it was cool that you drove a car like this.

"This is me" you said, making him smile and walk to the other door, opening it and sliding in. You got in the driver's seat, turning on the engine, your music began to blast and you quickly turned it down, apologising for the noise.

"Nice car. Pictured you driving something smaller" he said, making you chuckle.

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises" you said, beginning to drive to your house. The journey was filled with the both of you walking about music, working out, filming, conservation, games, books... You arrived at your house, parking on your drive. You opened the door and Henry walked to you and smiled down at you.

"This is nice" he said as he looked up to your small house, you leant forward and placed your head on his chest, he leant down and kissed the top of it making you smile. His fingers grasped your chin and lifted your head so your eyes met. He slowly leant in a placed his lips against yours, you had missed this, missed the feeling of his soft lips against yours, missed how his tongue ran perfectly across your bottom lip, easing your mouth open slightly, you had thought about this a few times when he was away was and wondered when the next time you got to do this would be. You sighed happily against him now it was actually happening again. His hands grasped your waist tightly, lightly pushing you against the side of your car, you gasped as your back hit the car, his lips moving feverishly against yours, your hands were resting against his chest, running along it, down over his abs, resting on his hips. His tongue felt amazing against yours and you could feel him resting against your core. Kissing him was a surreal feeling, you had only kissed a few times but every time you felt the same way, it was new and exciting and you knew you would never get used to it. You pushed him away lightly, not wanting to get carried away, especially in front of your house where all your neighbours could see. His breathing matched you, deep and uneven.

"Sorry, just really wanted to do that. Have since I saw you yesterday" he said, his forehead resting against yours, his hand still on your waist.

"It's okay. We just shouldn't get too carried away" you said, placing a peck against his lips, he took a step back, creating some space between you to alleviate some of the tension.

You took his hand in yours, leading him up the small steps to your house, you took your key out of your bag, opening the door and stepping inside the threshold. One of your cats, Marley, instantly came running to the door, meowing up at you making you coo at him. You took a few more steps, turning round to see Henry closing your door, he leant down to stroke him.

“Hello, nice to meet you” he said, rubbing behind your cat's ears. You smiled down at him and his eyes met yours before he stood back up.

“That's Marley” you said, gesturing towards the cat.

“This is really nice.” he said, walking behind you into your living room.

“Thanks.” you said, moving your laptop off your sofa and gesturing for Henry to take a seat.

“Would you like anything? Some water? A coffee” you said making him shake his head, instead he grabbed your hip and pulled you towards him, making you squeal slightly in shock, he pulled you until you were sitting in his lap, your legs flicking to the side, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“There, that's all I want” he said, making you smile, your hand came up to his hair, fiddling with the bits that had fallen, the other grasping the back of his neck lightly..

“Think your hair is longer than before” you said, your voice coming out much quieter than you had intended it to.

“Hmm, maybe” he said, looking down at your lips again. You both gasped as your other cat jumped up behind the both of you, making Henry turn his head to see what it was.

“Jesus that scared the crap out of me” Henry said, making you both laugh.

“Meet Milly” you said, stroking her head gently.

“Hi.” Henry said, his own hand stroking her lightly. She jumped back down, strutting off into another room. Henry looked back towards you, his eyes instantly flicking down to your lips again making you blush.

“I can’t get enough of you” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours as his eyes closed. Your fingers were grasping the hairs at the back of his neck making him hum against you, he moved forward and inch, his lips barely touching yours. Everything felt so intense, every touch ignited sparks, every sweet word or compliment had you blushing, every kiss shook your core and you knew he felt it too.

“Henry” you uttered, making his eyes dart open, you looked into each other's eyes, his eyes flicked from yours to your lips before they crashed down against them. You gasped against him bruising your lips against his. It was messy and passionate, like nothing you had ever experienced before. His tongue became familiar with yours again, pushing against each other, he tilted his head, kissing you at a better angle, a more comfortable one, you felt him suck the tip of your tongue, the feeling was new but my oh my it felt good. You didn’t want to stop kissing him but you knew you would get carried away if you didn’t. You moved back slightly, placing sweet kisses against his lips trying to lighten everything. Henry’s head fell back against the sofa, he sighed deeply (clearly trying to calm himself down, you’ve only been on two dates Henry, calm down he thought to himself) before looking in your eyes again. His eyes were dark, the usual blue shade nearly taken up completely by darkness, he pulled you closer, his head resting against your neck and he placed soft and sweet kisses there.

"I liked seeing how you were with Jess earlier, it was really sweet, you can tell she looks up to you" Henry said, saying what was on his mind as he placed sweet kisses to your neck.

"She's amazing. Her parents aren’t around that much, they're both super busy and hard working because they both work in a hospital. So when I first moved here I went to introduce myself and she was on her own. I felt super bad so I invited her around here whenever I was free. It's nice, she's like the younger sister I always wanted but never had" you said, making you Henry look at you.

"I'm so impressed by you." he said, making you blush, not expecting that from him.

"Don't blush, it's true. I'm not easily impressed but I'm struggling to find a single flaw in you" he said. You were speechless not knowing what to say, his hands were cradling your face sweetly.

"I could say the same for you" you said, brushing your nose against his.

"I have many flaws, believe you me" he said chuckling to himself.

"I doubt that very much. I have some of my own too, but they make me who I am. I don't let them get me down but instead just try to be the best me I can be" you said, Henry had a dumbfounded look upon his face making you furrow your eyebrows at him.

"What?" you said, shrugging your shoulders at him and crossing your arms.

"You're just perfect. Even the fact you said that makes you perfect" he said making you laugh.

"You're in over your head Henry" you said, wrapping your arms back round his shoulders.

"Maybe, maybe not" he replied, kissing you sweetly.

"I had a really nice time today, it was good to catch up. Feels like we just picked up things from where we left off, it's nice, feels right" he said, you nodded letting him know you agreed.

"I had a really nice time too. And yeah I thought it might have been awkward or something but it wasn't. Feels right like you said"

"I should probably get back, Kal's probably driving my mum crazy" he said, you nodded and got up from his lap, he stood up shortly after you, placing his hands around your waist again to pull you in for a hug.

"Need me to drive you back?" you said, pulling back to look him in the eyes.

"That'd be amazing thank you, I walked to the café" he said.

On the drive back you decided to tell Henry what was on your mind.

“I know we haven’t known each other that long and we’ve only been on two dates… but i feel like this is where I’m meant to be in my life right now… with you, getting to know you” you said, glancing to the passenger seat where he was sitting.

“I’m so glad you said that. I feel the same way. I’m excited about this, I haven’t felt this way in a long time, I feel this need to be around you and if I’m honest I don’t want to fight it. Who knows what’s going to happen or where I will be in a month's time but I want to spend this time I have here with you ” he said, holding your hand as you drove, his words made your heart burst.

“Let's do it then” you said, looking over at him.

“Let's do it.” he said, kissing your hand.

You pulled up to Henry’s childhood home when instructed and placed the car in park, turning to look at him.

“Your childhood home is huge” you said, glancing at the house.

“We’re a big family” he replied, holding your hand. You lent against the headrest and Henry’s free hand came to rest against your face making you close your eyes and lean against him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow? I can pick you up at yours?” he asked, making you open your eyes and nod at him with a small smile on your face.

“Sounds perfect” you said, both leaning in for one last small kiss.

“See you tomorrow” he said, as he opened the door. You watched him walk inside, opening the door you saw his dog Kal jump at him, a look of pure joy and love on Henry’s face as he looked down at him and you smiled to yourself, this man is truly something special you thought.

Let’s do this you thought to yourself, Henry turned around and smiled at you, waving you goodbye. You didn’t know what this was going to be, but it was sure going to be spectacular.

Part 3

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch20: Bent But Not Yet Broken

Summary: The team are still searching for Katie, but with little luck. Meanwhile, she’s at the mercy of HYDRA…until help comes from a very unlikely place.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Violence, kidnapping, bad language, beatings, smut (via flashbacks), brief descriptions and mentions of rape and torture. Major angst. 18+

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: I’m loving the banner for these three chapters!! And the edits @angrybirdcr​

Chapter 19

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Katie awoke alone wherever she was. They had driven her from the place she was taken for hours, right into the night, when she had been dragged out of the back of a van and shoved harshly into what looked like some kind of old factory, down a number of steps so she knew she was underground. They had offered her nothing, no food, or water and she’d simply curled up on the hard bed in the corner of the room and cried until she had fallen asleep.

She had no idea how long she had been there, no idea. There were no windows, just artificial light so she had no way of using the cycle of day and night. Eventually, the lock of the door clicked and she jumped to her feet as the door opened, and the large, burly man who reminded her of Rumlow stepped into her cell. Katie swallowed, but maintained her stance, her eyes locking onto his, jaw jutting up defiantly as he stepped towards her.

“My name is Jones, and I’m in charge of your interrogation.” he sneered.

Still she said nothing.

She was dragged to another room by this Jones, who sat in a chair opposite her with another agent, and asked what she knew about what SHIELD was up to, now it was under the control of Coulson. And then them targeting her made perfect sense, she was the only Avenger that knew he was alive (Ward had no idea she had told Steve) They informed her they knew she had to be working alongside him to track the Sceptre and HYDRA, even though she hadn’t seen him for months. 

And once more, she said nothing.

If it wasn’t so serious Katie would have laughed at their stupidity. Dumb fuckers had no idea about anything. She hadn’t given the sceptre a second thought since the Chitauri fight in New York and she certainly didn’t know where it was, or that Coulson had been tracking it.

She continued to say nothing when they drilled her about what she knew as to the whereabouts of Bucky, the ‘Asset’ or ‘Soldat’ as they referred to him. At that point, she had looked directly at the idiot who had been asking the questions wondering if he was born this stupid or if he suffered some kind of brain injury later in life, because only an idiot could possibly think that if the Avengers knew where he was that they would let HYDRA get their hands on him again. Unable to hold it in anymore, she’d laughed and simply shook her head. 

They stuck pins under her nails for that one, but still she hadn’t broken. Although it fucking hurt, like nothing had hurt before. She’d been unable to stop the tears of pain falling down her cheeks, but she made no noise as she trembled through the ordeal. Instead she tried to remember her training, allowing her mind to focus out, concentrate on something else, something nice. Something safe…

“Miss Stark?” JARVIS inquired again. Katie gave an exasperated sigh. Her alarm hadn’t gone off and it had been Steve that had awoken her half hour later than she wanted when his alarm went off. Now she was running, running way behind. She hadn’t even had chance to do her make up. Thankfully, at Steve’s insistence she had packed the night before. "Yes J?” “Mr. Stark has informed me that he’s begun to slowly pour out your coffee. If you don’t hurry, there won’t be any left.” She rolled her eyes, shoved her make up punch in the bag she was taking with her- plenty of time to do it on the way. The flight would be a few hours. She grabbed her bag, headed into the hallway and Steve walked out of the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. “I gotta go baby I’m sooo late.” She sighed “Tony will be having a fit.” Steve chuckled and quickly scanned her up and down.

“Nice suit.”

She glanced down at her black pinstriped jacket, trousers and a simple light blue button down.

“You making funna me?” she teased.

He shook his head “Not at all. You’re gorgeous as ever.” “Charmer.” she grinned as he leaned down to give her a quick kiss before she turned on her heels. “Love you.” She tossed over her shoulder. “You too” he smiled “See you later.”

She clung to that memory. The last time she had seen Steve. His soft kiss, his hair wet from his shower, that grey Underarmour shirt clinging to his form. And eventually when they realised that there was nothing she was going to say, they stopped and returned her to her cell leaving her alone once more.

Katie wasn’t stupid enough not to understand that there was an element of revenge in all of this too. Revenge on her, and Steve, at the fact they had been a key part of bringing Hydra to the broken, shattered organisation it now was. And as she sat there alone, nursing her sore fingers, she could do nothing but wish they had killed every, last one of the fuckers.

As time ticked by the interrogations continued. She had her fingernails dug up with pins, she was water-boarded, strangled to the point of passing out, and it was always the same. They’d push her, she’d continue to fight, and then then they would stop. They’d leave her for another stretch of time in that room, feeding her whatever meagre morsels they decided upon, deliberately weakening her system, and would come at her again.

But, the thing with being in Solitary confinement is that you have a lot of time to think. And think she did, whilst she nursed her various injuries. As such Katie had a pretty good idea now why they were so bothered about Coulson and SHIELD tracking the sceptre. There had been records of it in any of the files dumped on the internet when they had released SHIELD and HYDRA’s secrets to the world but she suspected it was in HYDRA’s possession and had been from the start, taken by Sitwell and STRIKE from the tower once they had defeated Loki. She further surmised, that it had been taken to the specialist department, STATION just like the rest of the Chitauri shit that they had recovered. Which meant that Strucker must have it. And they were worried for some reason that SHIELD were coming for it.

And then one day, they swiftly changed tact.

“All you need to do is tell me what the Avengers and SHIELD are planning next and you’ll be free to go.” Jones said, looking at her as she stood in her cell.

Katie snorted, because really? Did they think she was that stupid? She knew he was full of shit, he had no intention of releasing her. Even if she did or could cooperate, she’d be dead when they had what then needed. At least this way, whilst they thought she knew something, they would keep her alive. And the longer she was alive, the more chance the team had of finding her

Her snort earned her a sharp punch to the face which caused her to tall to the floor, where she received a harsh kick in the ribs, leaving her winded before he turned on his heels and left. Groaning, she pulled herself up over to her bed and lay on her side, wiping at the blood and tears on her face.

More time went by, and then she was pulled back out and dragged to the familiar, clinically white room they like to ‘interrogate her in’. This time they threatened to go back and find Tony, Steve, the rest of her friends and family, and kill them all. But this time she didn’t snort, she full on laughed, because the thought of them trying to get into the tower and meeting Earth’s Mightiest Heroes was hilarious. And the laughter just wouldn’t stop.

That was until she got a back hander across the face and another punch in the ribs.

But the next time they try something else, they almost break her. Almost.

They came for her in her cell and first off they took her rings. They’d already taken her necklace and her bracelet but they’d left these with her for some reason. But now, they wanted them. First off they went for the sparkling diamond on her left hand. She should just have let them have it, but she couldn’t. It’s her’s, her ‘big, fuck off Tiffany diamond’, her princess cut engagement ring that she had always dreamed of. So she tried to fight, and screamed when she felt and heard her fingers snap as Jones stamped on her hand. When they went for the emerald on her right, she was too caught up with the pain in her left to fight for that one. This time they were the ones laughing at her, laughing at her pain as she held her bust hand close and choked on deep sobs.

And then Jones did something far more humiliating and degrading and forced himself on her. She put up as good a fight as she could, considering the state her hand was in, but someone else grabbed her painful fingers and pinned her arms above her head, sniggering, calling her a “SHIELD slut…” The pain of him inside her was excruciating, but as she opened her mouth to scream at him, she looked in his face and knew that was what the bastard wanted. So instead she turned her head to the side and screwed her eyes shut. Trying to block it all out.

When he had finished his grunting and smashing into her, he passed her over to the man who had been pinning her arms above her head but by now she was emotionally dead. When he finished, she lay still for a moment before she heard footsteps and Jones crouched down besides her, holding her diamond ring between his thumb and fingers.

“You know…” He leered at her as she backed away, grabbing at her trousers and shakily pulling them up as she rose from the ground “I bet this is worth a pretty packet. You’d think that giving you a rock like that would mean he cares but where is he, huh? The Star Spangled Man doesn’t seem to have a plan at the moment.”

And then, despite the pain, despite the fact he has just violated her, she laughed again because, you know ‘Star Spangled Man with a Plan…’ and those ridiculous videos and that spandex…

In hindsight it probably wasn’t the brightest thing to do. Jones snapped and he unloaded on her, again, only this time it was savage. He lost his temper, and she would normally be slightly proud but she had no time to be as she was pushed into walls, punched, kicked, stomped on. She tried to fight back, and normally she would and could put up a decent battle against anyone, she’s an Avenger, but being weak from lack of decent food, lack of sleep, and the various injuries she’s already sustained plus the violent assault she had just taken had all left her weak.  And then the other one joined in. As they punched and kicked away she could hear faint voice echoing in her ringing ears, a brush of a thumb across her cheek, the warmth of a palm against her face.

“God I love you, Doll…” Steve looks down at her as he lies over her gently, both of them slightly breathless, sheets tangled around her legs.

She staggered to her feet and then her nose was smashed by a fist. Once more she was transported to another place, a mission, from way before her and Steve started dating, one where she caught an elbow to the face by some dickhead who had taken a Diplomat’s daughter hostage…

“It’s broken,” she says, matter of factly, as her Captain’s hand gently reaches up, thumb and forefinger carefully tilting her head so he can see her face.

He gives her a pained smile. “Yeah, looks like.” whilst he gently hands her an ice pack before standing up, and dropping a hand to the top of her head.

Katie was tossed around that room like Loki was by the Hulk. Oh wouldn’t it be great if Banner appeared now, Hulked out and ripped the place apart. Or Thor, lighting all these fuckers up. Or Widow for that matter, delivering them one of those delectable shocks. Or Clint, placing arrows between their eyes. Or Tony dispatching of them with whatever weapon he chooses. Or Steve, using his shield to break their bones and faces…

But no one came.

Jones glanced down at her “This is your own fault.” His boot swiftly collided with her midriff one last time. “One way or another, I will get something out of you. Maybe you’ll speak when we take you up to see a couple of my special friends… they’re good at making people comply.”

And they left her, a bleeding, battered mess on the floor.

Eventually she mustered the strength to crawl to the bed at the side of the room, hauling herself up onto the bare mattress. - they’d taken every little bit of comfort from her including the blankets and her warmer outer clothing and shoes leaving her merely in her blouse and her trousers, both filthy and covered in blood. 

Everything hurt. Everywhere. Physically and mentally. And she was tired. From lack of sleep. The lights were kept on blindingly light all the time and she was craving the darkness of her bedroom in the tower.

How long was it since she’d been in her own bed? Certainly longer than days but was it weeks? Months? One second of time simply melted into the next in this place. The sobs wracked her painful chest as she let out the first word she had spoken since she had arrived, God knows how long ago, a single gasp of his name.

“Stevie…”

******

“Errr, do you have an appointment!”  Katie grinned as Steve walked into her office, shutting the door behind him.

“Do I need one?” he asked she turned round from where she had been stood looking in a filing cabinet.

 “Distractions always need an appointment.” “Is that what I am?” he pouted.

“When you come in here dressed like that, yes.” she said, pointing up and down taking in his jeans and grey top “That T-shirt is ridiculously tight, and your ass looks great in those jeans.

"It’s all yours, baby.” He grinned, hands sliding to her hips as hers slid up round his neck. “Can you spare your distraction enough time for lunch?” Katie let out a groan ��I can’t, I’ve got a working lunch today as we’re looking over a proposal we got in from another publishers. I could probably grab a coffee though, I got like 20 minutes.”

 “20 minutes?” Steve asked, arching an eyebrow and Katie immediately grinned as his eyes dropped to her lips.

“What are you suggesting Captain Bad Ass?” “Nothing” he said, innocently. Before he smirked “Does the door lock?”

 “J…” Katie spoke, not taking her eyes of his “Do me a favour and lock down my office for half an hour, full black-out.” “Certainly Miss Stark.”

The door locks clicked, the blinds into the main office area closed, and Katie looked up to check the CCTV cameras were also down too. “That doesn’t make it sound proof though, just so you know…” she said.

Steve smirked and then kissed her hard, pulling her to him, one hand on her back the other tangled in her hair before he reached down, sliding his hands up and under her skirt sliding the grey material up over her thighs.

“I’m not gonna lie…”he murmured, lifting her up onto the desk so she was sat in front of him “Seeing you in these office skirts and tops… its kinda hot.”

She smirked into his kiss as she tugged at the material of his t-shirt until he raised his arms so she could pull it up, over his head and off. She was groping his bare chest as he pressed against her, rubbing her spot with his still covered crotch. She moaned at the rough denim of his jeans pushing against her, the thin barrier of her underwear doing nothing to stop the sensation.

"Tease.” she growled into his mouth before reaching down to unbuckle his pants and Steve grinned before sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth when she reached in and grasped him in her hand. His hands started opening the buttons of her blouse  then once they were open he gently reached into the cups of her bra, pulling her breasts out, dipping his head down to suck at one of her nipples, his hand drifting back downwards to tug at her underwear. She moaned and shifted so he could pull them down her legs.

As he followed them down, dropping to his knees, he took an ankle into his hand pulling her foot up.

“These stay on.” He instructed referring to her heels and she nodded biting her lip as he threw her leg over his shoulder exposing her completely.  She grappled for grip on the sleek, wooden desk, settling for one hand curling round the edge, the other finding its place back in his hair as he gave one long perfect lick, listening to her soft groans. He worked her with his mouth and her head tipped back, a constant stream of soft moans escaping her lips. He drove her right to the edge, his mouth and tongue knew how to play her perfectly now, and when he could tell she was close he rose gracefully and gently pushed her back, wrapping her legs round his waist so he was supporting her hips with his, and he pushed into her in one easy thrust.

“Jesus…” he  shuddered, as he bent over to gently kiss her, his hands on her hips as he continued to thrust in and out. Fuck, this was hot. Papers, pens, staplers went flying off  the desk as he pushed harder and harder, his name tumbling from her lips, “Stevie…” pure pleasure and ecstasy, and lust,and desire. 

“Stevie!” This time his name was a shout, filled with terror, and fear, and pain, and it vibrated through him, painfully.

With his own yell, Steve sat bolt upright, before falling off the couch with a crash. Shaking his head, taking a deep breath he blinked his tired eyes and the room in front of him came slowly into focus. His eyes fell on a picture of the two of them in a frame sitting on one of the shelves by the TV. Both of them smiling as they stood in jackets, scarves and hats in the snow in Central Park, arms round one another. There are more of them together, and with their friends and family. Tearing his eyes away he looked around and spotted the pair of her shoes that had been kicked off by the door the last time she had walked through it, some 4 weeks ago, shoes that he couldn’t bring himself to move.

How the fuck had he fallen asleep? He jumped suddenly and looks frantically around him for his phone, it was in his pocket. There could be news, someone may have called, but he knows deep down that’s not true. They had no leads, every single but of intel they had had led them to nothing but dead ends. But he looked at it anyway and saw nothing. Nothing but her eyes and her smile peering back at him from the photo on his lock screen, along with the time and date, a reminder of just how long she’s been gone.

Steve took a deep breath and when he exhaled it came out in a deep, pitiful sob.

“I’m sorry,” he cried, his breath and voice catching as he curled up, leaning back against the sofa, his arms hugging his knees to his chest “I’m sorry, so sorry sweetheart, we’re trying, I’m trying, I’m so sorry…”

******

Steve couldn’t decide if time was moving too slow or too fast. The weeks without her were flashing by his eyes but the days and the nights felt like they lasted forever. He couldn’t understand how it was only 3 in the afternoon, mind you, having said that, the days and nights all blurred into one. He wasn’t sleeping properly after all. His nightmares were frequent, only now it wasn’t the ice or Bucky he saw. It was her, crying, screaming for help and him not being able to do anything about it.

Pouring himself what felt like his 17th coffee of the day he turned to see Sam walking into the room. Steve nodded to him.

 “Cap, I know this isn’t top of your priority list but…” Sam turned to check they were alone before he carried on “I had a call today from one of my contacts. They have a potential sighing of Ol’ Frosty.” Despite himself Steve picks up, interested “Where.”

“Canadian Border, Montana. Mean anything?”

Steve shook his head “Is there a Hydra base nearby?”

“Not that we know of. I can take a look?” Steve nodded. “Thanks Sam.”

Sam took a deep breath. The man looked utterly broken, but he wasn’t surprised. Katie had been gone for 5 weeks and they had nothing. They were now taking a deep dive into old intel, the information they had recovered from the bases they had raided and re-raided. She wasn’t at any of them, but then they hadn’t expected her to be. Hydra were too smart for that

 The pair of them wheeled round when suddenly Clint appeared in the door way “Cap… Coulson is here, says he has news.”

“Thanks.” Steve said,

Oh he had news alright. The location of another Hydra base that no one knew about, one they had dug up on the seemingly never ending search for that fucking sceptre. It was a small military outpost just outside of Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan. Coulson had dispatched a team to do some recon, and they had spoken to locals who had informed them that the base had been empty with no one seen or heard entering for years.

“Until 5 weeks ago.” Coulson said, looking around at them from his seat at the table “According to a man out walking his dog, an SUV came straight down the road and into the gates, locking them behind him. A load of men in suits climbed out, so he assumed they were government. Since then Mr Dog Walker has seen armed guards on the gate each day. So they brought something there, we just don’t know what,“

“5 weeks…” Natasha breathed out “That’s too much of a coincidence!”

“Yeah, so I had my team sweep the base immediately…” Coulson sighed, as he looked around the room “There was no one there, but they did find evidence that Katie was there at some point.”

 Steve turned his head away and stood up sharply, walking to the edge of the room, looking out into the hallway.

“What kind of evidence?” Tony asked, his voice cracking.

Coulson hesitated before he pushed the plastic bag across the table and Steve walked back as Tony tipped the contents out onto the table.

Her StarkPhone, in 2 pieces, clearly done to avoid them tracing her, the Captain America shield design that Tony had engraved on the back for a joke blinked in the light like it was mocking them. Her diamond star pendant that Steve bought  her for Christmas and the bracelet he had brought her for her birthday, clasps broken on both as if they had been ripped off. But it was the flash of yellow, green and silver and diamond that made Steve’s heart stop. Her rings. Bright platinum and yellow gold. Sparkling diamond, deep green emerald.

There’s no way she would have given those up without a fight…

Tony pushed himself away from the table, a sob catching in his throat whilst Steve reached out to gently pick up his girl’s rings. He could hardly make them out now, the tears in his own eyes blurred his vision. He closed his palm around them, and walked out of the room, but not before he gave a loud, angry yet broken cry and his fist punched straight through the re-enforced glass in one of the windows that looked out into the corridor. 

He headed up to the roof, he’d been coming here a lot recently. Good way to get some peace, away from everything. Except he was never away, because she was with him, in his head, every damned movement he made.  He glanced across the skyline, his eyes falling on Central Park. The leaves on some of the trees already a bright mixture of reds, golds and oranges. Fall was his favourite time of year, he loved the colours. It was an artist’s dream. Not Katie’s though. Oh no.

“She hates this time of year.” Steve said simply as he looked out over the New York Skyline, not turning to look at Tony as he drew up beside him.

“Everything dies and it’s a bit shit.” Tony mumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets as he uttered the words Katie uses to describe Autumn. Steve knew what he was saying, but the pair of them couldn’t help but inhale at the sentiments of the word.

"Sorry… “ Tony sighed, “I just…” he trailed off, shrugging.

Steve shrugged also as he turned to look at the man besides him, lips curling into a despondent sort of smile. “I know…”

The two men stood in silence before a short, despairing chuckle burst from Steve . “You know, this time last year she made a pie,” he shook his head “I was teasing her about being miserable it was Autumn and she said the only thing decent about it is you can make apple pie. And I told her she was ridiculous, as surely apple pie can be made any time of year…” “That’s my mom” Tony said, smiling and he gave a small huff of laughter “Mom always used to make pies autumn through winter but never any other time of year…”

“I didn’t even wait for it to cool.” Steve chuckled. “As soon as it came out of the oven there was a scoop of ice cream on it and I was digging in. She stabbed me with a fork”

Tony snorted “Sounds about right.”

“It was the best fucking apple pie I’ve eaten.” Steve sniffed. “Damned it..” his voice cracked “ I’d give anything to have her here to make another…”

Tony glanced up at the soldier, the tears evident in his eyes.

“Katie told me she thinks you’re the strongest person she’s ever known,” he breathed out. “Learning to live and start again in a world that has continually done nothing but beat you down… “

“I don’t feel strong now.” Steve whispered, turning to face Tony.

“You have to be.” Tony said “We all do, that’s the only way we’re gonna find her.” Even in the dim light, through his own tears, Tony could see the grief on Steve’s face. There was utter desperation and sadness in his blue eyes, the tears now shining as they fell down his cheeks. The Captain released a long, shuddering breath before wiping at his face stating simply, “I don’t know how to be strong without her Tony.”

“She makes me better too.” Tony said, his own eyes now spilling with tears, “And for that reason alone we have to find her. And we have to bring her home.” his eyes turn back to the city which is now starting to light up as the sun begins to dips behind the horizon “And then she can make a damned pie.”

*****

He parked the truck at the end of the long drive, hiding it between two trees and then climbed out, the smells, the sounds of the wind, everything was familiar, but it was clear, sharp, as if he wasn’t experiencing it all through a veil of fog.

This was the last place on his list. He had by no way, shape or form eliminated everyone that had been involved in his programming, but he’d taken the main ones he remembered. And there was one left. A Doctor. A Doctor that had been sadistic. A Doctor that had been sadistic and enjoyed what he did, experimenting on him, on others. He wasn’t sure if he had been the type of person to seek revenge before they had done this to him and he didn’t really care either, and besides, it wasn’t just revenge…it was closure. After this one was dead, that was it. He was going to lay low, try and make sense of these whirring memories that came back to him in a jumble. Sometimes he could make sense of them, and some of them were stronger than others, like the ones of him in the war. He could remember the missions mainly. And then some of them from before were hazier, a short, skinny, sickly blond haired boy. Punk…

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” He knew the boy was Steve. Captain America leader of the Commandos. He remembered Steve but he didn’t feel that he knew him. But he understood that he should, the display at the Smithsonian had told him that.

Best friends since childhood.

The longer he stayed out of Hydra’s grasp the more his mind was his own, and it was only a matter of time, he hoped, till he did remember. But until then, he needed to slip away. Be a ghost story once more.

One more…

Picking the gun up off the passenger seat he zipped up his jacket and made his way towards the facility, making sure he kept to the cover of the expanse of forest and open green space that surrounded it. Of course it would be in the fuck end of nowhere. No one to hear the screams. He easily dispatched the guards at the gate, and the 4 that then rush out to greet him are no match for him. That’s one upside to this entire situation, he can fight. And fight better than he ever could

“Pick on someone your own size…” He swiftly boots the guy right up the ass and down the alley.

“You know, sometimes I think you like getting punched.” He turns to the small, blonde man standing up, dusting himself off.

“I had him on the ropes.” By the time he made his way inside he can hear the alarm going, and he smirked to himself slightly. Like it matters. Anyone who tried to stop him was dealt with, anyone who simply ran away, well he wasn’t here for them. They could go. He navigated the clinical corridor easily, by memory or instinct he doesn’t know but he eventually found the room. Something stopped him for a second, and a rush of vivid and loud memories flashed in front of his eyes.

“Soldat!” the voice is loud, almost a bark. “Hold out your arm.” He holds out his metal arm.

“The other one.” He does as he is told, and grits his teeth as the scalpel slices into him and they cut a chunk of his flesh away.

“Take that to my lab.” the voice says “I want to run some tests on his healing qualities, isolate the properties…keep him here, I can study his recover too…” With blood dripping down his arm, they take him back to his room, his cell at the other end of the facility, without even giving him a bandage.

With a low growl he kicked the door open and the man in the chair looked up at him, his eyes growing wide in fear.

“Soldat-”

The Doctor was cut off when a large boot kicked him hard in the chest, causing him to topple over backwards, the chair crashing to the floor. In one stride he was over him, gun levelled at his head.

“My name is Bucky.” He stated simply before he discharged his gun straight between the fucker’s eyes.

It’s done. It’s finished.

Turning on his heels he walked out of the room and aimed a punch to the man that launched at him from the right, sending him down easily. He then saw the flash of a gun as it went off, easily dodging the shot. He turned and fired one of his own, straight into the bastard’s knee cap and he collapsed. His path was now clear and he was about to leave, but then he heard it.

A jumbled scream of names, but it was the tone that set his nerves on edge. It was broken, the scream of someone desperate, someone that wasn’t here of their own accord. It was heart-wrenching, pitiful…and it was female

Automatically he spun and headed towards it.

*****

Katie had no idea when she last ate, it was certainly before they moved her here to this new place anyway. She didn’t trust them not to poison her, so at some point she stopped eating completely. She still refused to talk, and seeing as she knew they wanted her to scream, to shout in pain, to verify that what they are doing to her hurt, she also learned to stop crying out.

They wanted her to break. They continued to violate her, seemingly visiting her to get their fill whenever the ‘mood’ took them, but she held tight, tight to her memories, thoughts, trust in her fiancé, brother, her Avengers family to find her, tight to her desperate hope, and above all else, tight to that Stark pig-headed stubbornness.

She will NOT break. She will not give these fuckers anything. And if that means she dies, so be it.

As she lay on her bed, weak, her stomach churning from the bruises and hunger, there was a shrill noise in her ears, probably from the beating she took yesterday, but the more she tried to focus, the louder it became. And then she heard voices, yells.

The sound of gunfire made her sit up, fast, a little too fast and she cried out in pain as her body protested to the movement, but now she understood, the shrill noise was an alarm.

“He’s in the main lab…” She heard someone yelling.

And then Jones’ voice replied, he was getting closer as he spoke, she could tell “I’ll get the bitch, we need to move”.

Someone was here, and whoever it was wasn’t Hydra. And Katie let out a sob. It was them, it had to be, they’d come for her.

 The door to her cell flung open and Jones ran in to grab her arm.

“Time to go…” As he grabbed her arm and dragged her off the bed she screamed. As loud as she could. She screamed for Steve, then Tony, then Thor, Natasha, Clint…her voice cracking and croaky from lack of use, yelling the first words she’d spoken in his presence since they’d taken her.

She wasn’t staying quiet this time, not now rescue was so close by.

“Oh, now you talk…” Jones gave her a quick slap which left her dazed but, as he dragged her to the door he stopped dead halfway across the room. Katie looked up, struggling to focus and she could just make out a tall figure, blocking the way. For a moment she thought it was Steve, but then she realised he wasn’t tall enough. And the way he held himself was all wrong. Then she noticed his hair, and as he strode into the cell, murderous intent oozing from every part of his body, her eyes started to focus and she saw his face from under the peak of his cap, that haunted stare she remembered from the riverbank.

“Bucky.” Her voice was nothing but a whisper.

Bucky tilted his head, surveying her, but he didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, his eyes moved to Jones, and they suddenly lit with a furious fire and he stepped forward again.

Jones pushed Katie hard towards him. She fell again, and Bucky gently caught her, setting her quickly to one side as he grabbed Jones who was making a break for it towards the door. He gripped the man in his metal left arm, which was covered by a black leather jacket and glove, round the throat and squeezed, hard. The man’s bones and sinew and tissue crunched and squashed in his grip and he fell limp.

I don’t like men hitting women, you fucker. 

Bucky tossed Jones to the floor and Katie tried to push herself up from where she had fallen with her hands, but it hurt so much. Her broken one gave way and she lurched forward, bracing herself for the impact as she was about to fall flat on her face but the blow never came. Instead, a strong arm wrapped around her from behind and she was gently pulled back into a sitting position, as she fought to keep her sobs and cries under control. She looked up, following Bucky’s movement as he crouched down in front of her. She looked up at him, and managed a small smile.

“Thank you Bucky.” 

Bucky swallowed, she knew him? How? How did she know who he really was? He continued to look into her eyes, green and dull, sunken into a face that is spattered with bruises, died blood, cuts and angry red marks and then he recognised her, from that day on the river bank. 

The day he dragged Captain America, Steve, out of the Potomac.

“I’m Katie. Steve’s Girlfriend. You know Steve, right?”

What Hydra were doing with Steve’s girlfriend in this god-forsaken shithole he had no idea. But he also knew that he couldn’t leave her here.

“Can you stand?” He asked softly.

“I don’t know…” she choked out, her voice croaky. He decided it would be easier, and kinder to carry her. Removing his jacket and placing it round her shoulders, because it was cold outside and all she was wearing was a dirty blouse and trousers, no shoes or socks. He gently placed his metal arm round her back and his right under her knees, lifting her effortlessly up into his arms. She let out a small sob and a cry of pain as the movement jostled her slightly.

“Sorry.” He appologised gruffly, as she placed her arms round his neck for support and leaned into his warmth, the first kind and friendly touch she had felt in so damned long. Instinctively, she buried her face into his chest as he carried her, unable to believe that she was finally safe.

It wasn’t Steve, but at the moment she would have taken anyone.

Quickly Bucky made his way back through the base, up a short flight of stairs she had absolutely no recollection of coming down when she was brought here, and they emerged into the fresh air. The wind hit her face and stung her cheeks and she pressed her face harder into his chest, whimpering at the assault on her senses. Eventually, when she felt she had gotten control of herself she gently moved, ignoring the pain, to have a look around. The leaves on the trees around them were now sporting orange leaves, some having shed a few already.

It had been the 1st of September when she had been taken.

“Do you know the date?” she throatily asked as Bucky carried her gently but quickly towards a truck which was parked haphazardly in between 3 of the trees in a clearing set back from the road. How fucking long had they had her?

“10th October.” he replied

She gave another little sob as she did the maths in her head “6 weeks. 6 fucking weeks.”

“Try 70 years sweetheart” Bucky mumbled back, and his sarcasm made her snort a little laugh, and she instantly winced at the pain in her chest.

He gently helped her into the truck, laying her across her across the back seats, before he jumped in the driver’s side and gave a quick look around before he set off.

Katie pulled the jacket tighter around her and gave another loud sob, then the tears started, and she couldn’t stop.

“You’re safe.” Bucky cast a glance over his shoulder. “I won’t hurt you.” “I know.” He looked at her again, as she lay down, before she started to cough. Tilting onto her side, she tried to stop herself as it was painful, fire shooting across her stomach, up her side, her ribs…her hand…everything.  

“You need a hospital.” he said.

“No.” she shook her head

“You need medical attention”

“I can…”she took a deep breath, fighting the pain “Home. I’ll be safer with Steve and my brother.” Steve. Bucky swallowed thickly. “Where’s home?” he asked.

“Manhattan.” “I can’t go to Manhattan” he said, shaking his head.

“Yes you can.” she grimaced “Steve…he’ll help.” “I can’t go to Manhattan” he repeated. She didn’t respond and when he glanced back he saw she’d passed out, or was sleeping, he doesn’t know. He took a deep breath and for a split second toyed with ignoring her request and driving her to the nearest ER, but he understood her fear only too well. If Hydra took her, there’s a chance they’ll come back for her and she was right. Steve could keep her safe.

So he drove into the nearest Police Station, parked the truck outside leaving the engine and the heaters running, to keep her warm and with his baseball cap pulled as far down over his face, grabbed his rucksack. He hid behind a dumpster, not far away, keeping the car in sight. It didn’t take long until someone came out of the police station and walked over to the vehicle to investigate. Bucky saw the man peer inside before he gave a yell, and yanked open the back door. Bucky took a deep breath, and with one last look over his shoulder he headed off into the cold October wind.

******

“Miss…” a voice was stirring Katie. It was a soft voice, not the harsh one she was used to dealing with. And she was warm, she could smell leather. A bit like Steve’s jacket, but not, because it didn’t smell like him. Blinking she saw someone leaning over her and she instinctively tried to back up, but she hit something metal. Taking a moment she realised she was in a car. And then she remembered Bucky. Bucky had killed Jones and freed her. 

“Where…” she began and the large man spoke softly

“You’re in La Ronge…at the local police station.” he said, gently.

She glanced up, wary. “How do I know you’re not Hydra…” “Hydra?” he frowned and she took in his appearance. He was in a uniform, and he was flanked by other officers in a uniform.

“We’ve called an ambulance…” he began. “No!” She immediately yelled. “I need to go home…” “Ma’am…” “No. Hospital.” she growled, trying to sit up. “It isn’t safe. I need…” she took a deep breath “Can you call home, my fiancé, my brother, anyone…” “Where’s home ma’am.” “Avengers Tower.” she said, taking a deep breath. The man’s eyes grew wide as he looked at her, “You’re…oh my God, you’re Katie Stark…”

She nodded.

He leaned back out to one of the other officers and said something before leaning back into the car.

“There’s been a lot of people looking for you Miss Stark.” he said kindly “We’ll get someone on to your Brother right away. In the mean-time, we need to get you inside.”

She nodded and pushed herself up, gritting her teeth, trying to fight how much pain she was in. With a bit of a struggle and help she managed to shuffle herself out of the car. She steadied herself against it, whilst the officer looked at her and then gently moved towards her. Instinctively she shrunk back and he held his hands up.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I just thought you might need a hand walking.”

She did need a hand. After scrutinizing him for another second, she nodded and he gently scooped her up, causing her to hiss, and he took her inside. She was gently carried through the back of the station and into a warm, gently lit medical room of some sorts where she was set down on a soft medical bench.

“No hospital” she said again, feeling her eyes going droopy again.

“I promise.” the man nodded. “But we do have an on duty medic…maybe she could clean you up a little, and we can find you some clothes.” That sounded ok, and she nodded again, before the blackness took her once more

******

Steve couldn’t run. Not properly. He needed to be in the tower just in case. Not to mention the barrage of press camped on the doorstep since he had relented and told  Tony to go public a few days back.  And he hated the treadmill, seemed pointless, if he was running he actually wanted to get somewhere. So instead he took his frustration out on the punch bag. Every blow he landed was one for the fuckers that had taken his girl. He lost count of how many of the things he tore open but thankfully there seemed to be an endless supply, and someone to clear up the mess he left afterwards. Including the blood on the floor from his split knuckle as he had stopped bandaging his hands. The pain was twistedly comforting, something to actually feel when the rest of him was numb. "Trouble sleeping?”

He turned and saw her leaning in the doorway, wearing a pair of tight lycra leggings and a crop top that finished halfway down her perfect midriff and a cheeky grin as she took a drag from the water bottle in her hand.

He gave a laugh, as he caught the punch bag.

“At half 4 in the afternoon?” He quipped back as she crossed the room towards him. He noticed her skin was gleaming with sweat “you been training?”

“Sparring with Nat… she was an absolute bitch” Katie said, taking a drink from her water bottle “she needs to get laid then she might stop taking it out on me.”

“Or maybe you need to learn to punch better” he teased.

“Can you get divorced before you get married?” she said through narrowed eyes making him laugh. “I can punch just fine thanks”

“Show me whatcha got then” he nodded towards the punch bag. Taking another drink from her bottle she tossed it aside and shoved him in the chest, making him laugh again, stepping back as she passed. He watched as she took up her stance, feet slightly apart, arms raised, and she gave the bag a sharp jab with her right and it swung back away from her.

“Not bad…” he grinned, moving towards her. ”But if you tilt your hips…“ his hands fell to her waist and he moved her slightly "this way… legs slightly further…” he used his feet to nudge hers “this way and arms…” both his hands wrapped round her wrists, the light catching her ring on her left hand “little less high…” he used his arms to guide hers and swung and the bag sending it flying.

She dropped her arms and brought them around her front, taking his with them. “Admit it…” she said, her voice husky “my stance was fine you just wanted to touch me.”

“You have a very high opinion of yourself, or a very low opinion of me.” He said, his body stooping so his chin rest in her shoulder.

“No, I just know you too well Captain Sex Fiend…” she said, turning her head to face him, her lips brushing his.

He’d pushed her backwards, and took her hard and fast against the wooden clad walls of the gym, bodies slick and working together the way they always did. Her hands were in his hair, clawing at his back and it had left them both far more flushed than any other physical exercise ever did…. With one final punch as the memory faded Steve gave a cry of anger, frustration, grief, he had no idea what he was feeling, maybe all 3, but he knocked the damn thing straight off the chain anyway. “Captain Rogers…” JARVIS suddenly spoke. “Yeah.” He responded, his voice croaky from unshed tears. “Mr Stark has asked that you meet him immediately in the hanger. There has been a development regarding Miss Stark” Steve didn’t respond, he grabbed his dark, red hoody and sprinted out of the door.

“She’s been found.” Tony said, wheeling round to look at him as he ran up the ramp to the jet, not waiting for him to speak. “In the back of a stolen car that was abandoned outside a station in La Ronge.“

“Is she…” he choked out, and Tony gave a small smile and a sniff.

“She’s alive. But she’s not in great shape, and she’s refusing to go to hospital, told them to call us instead.”

Steve’s hands flying up to cover his face and they slid into his hair as he dropped into the seat behind Tony, the relief washing all over his body. Tony began to flip the switches, firing up the jet, at the same time as Bruce walked on board.

“We got something?” He looked at the two men.

 “Yeah..” Tony said “Some police station in La Ronge called. They have her, but she’s…she’s not in a good way so we need…” He gestured to Bruce and pointed to one of the seats.

Bruce let out a deep breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “That’s great…that’s she’s been found…”

“Jarvis, you got that flight plan?” Tony asked.

 “Yes Sir, you are expected at the air field, some 15 miles from the station. The Sergeant who called will meet you there. ETA 3pm”

 Tony turned to Steve as the jet began to rise, the soldier was looking down at his hands, breathing deeply. He was a jumble of emotions, relief she was ok, worried about what state she was in, angry at who had done this to her. He was jerked out of his thoughts by Tony who gently clamped him on the shoulder.

 Blue eyes met dark brown, both shimmering with tears. “Let’s go get our girl” Tony smiled softly.

**** Chapter 21

**Original Posting**

[turnupbrock]

Noise Complaint- Colby Brock

This is a request from one of my amazing readers on here. "Can you do one where the reader is Sam or Jakes neighbor and they are trying to sleep or edit so they go over and to tell them to quiet down and they meet Colby or something like that please. And anonymously please"

 Tired was an understatement. You were exhausted. After a long day, you were just finally coming home at 1:30 in the morning. Which was insanely annoying because you knew that you were going to wake up late the next morning. It was a stressful day, you woke up late for your hair appointment which in turn, made you late for your nail appointment, then of course you were late to your photoshoot which was supposed to be at 12 in the afternoon, but instead you made it there at 12:45 due to traffic. Plus you had to film a couple of videos with your friends plus your own video, then they wanted to go shopping which lead to hours of spending money, and then finally you all made it back to their shared house, where you lost track of time, hints why you came home so late. It wore you out.

You didn’t even care that you left all the bags full of your new clothes and jewelry laying on the floor of your living room. All you wanted to was go change out of your uncomfortable clothes, wash all the makeup off your face, and go to sleep. You were asleep on your feet- dead on your feet? Whatever the saying was. You sighed in satisfaction as you patted dry your freshly cleaned face. Looking up in the mirror you saw you now clean face accompanied with your puffy eyes, eyelids hanging low. Walking into your room you took satisfaction with the dark and coolness of the space. Slipping on an oversized shirt and some pajama shorts, you finally crawled into bed.

There were no dreams playing in your head, just blackness, pure peace. That was until loud music invaded your peaceful sleep. You groaned and turned over in bed, you threw your leg over the large space, looking for a cold spot. Once you found one you smiled softly and snuggled your face into your pillow. The music continued to play loudly through the walls making you groan and lift your head to look at the wall. You knew your neighbor, it was Sam with his girlfriend Katrina. She didn’t live with him but she was over a lot. You met them a couple of days after they moved in last year. You guys weren’t close but you were friends. With being neighbors and being friends you came up with a knocking code. Two is to say that you’re being too loud, three is that one of you needs something, and four is just to say hi. Raising your wrist you knocked on the wall twice. After a minute of not getting a response, you knocked again but this time a little louder. Again no response.The music still blasted, keeping you awake. “Fuck” you groaned while getting out of bed.

You bother to fix your messy bun, you just slipped on your vans that were laying on the floor next to your bed. Wrapping your arms around your body, you walked out of your apartment and straight to the door next to yours. Lifting your hand you finally banged loud on the door, not caring if you sound like an ass. You were tired and they were keeping you up. You kept in mind that it was a friday and that it was the weekend, time to party. Finally the door swung open to reveal a tall man with platinum hair and red solo cup in his hand. He offered you a soft smile before smirking, “Saaam you’re in trouuuble” he yelled into the full apartment. You smiled and shook your head at the boy who just shot you a wink and walked away. Sam approached the door but before he could get a word out, Katrina barreled towards you, almost knocking you over. “Oh my god,” Kat gasped in your ear. “I missed you girl.” Releasing her from the hug you reply, “Missed you too babes”

Sam chuckled and pull Kat to his side, “So what’s up?” he asked, his eyebrows drawing in together. You sigh, “ I’m really sorry Sam, you know I love a good party and I bet that this is an amazing kickback and I hate to interrupt-” Sam cut of your rambles with a cute chuckle and shake of his head, “Yes Y/n, I’ll turn down the music” You let out a breathy laugh and shook your head. “Sorry and thank you.” “Of course.” You turned to leave but Sam stopped you, “Wait I have some new merch that will be released in the next few days but as you know, me and a couple of my friends are starting to move tomorrow so let me give you some pieces now.” he explained. “Oh, okay. Great. Thank you sam.” “No problem dude, come in.” Sam stepped back, letting you in. You stepped in and you became very aware of the fact that you were in pajamas and the large shirt made it look like you had no pants on. Katrina saw the hesitation on your face so she slipped her arm around your waist and started to lead you into the living room where all of their friends were in. “It’s okay girl, you look fine.” she reassured you. You slightly nodded your head and gave her a smile.

“Guys this is Y/n, Sam’s neighbor.” she announced to the group. “Y/n that is Corey, Jake, Reggie, Ariya, Kevin, Griffin, Mike,” she pointed to each person as she said their names. “That is Tara, Devyn, Xepher, and Cassie. Tara is Jake’s girlfriend, Cassie is Reggie’s, and Xepher is with Griffin.” “Who used to be my girlfriend,” the one named Mike pointed out. You folded your lips in your mouth, “Welcome to the family meeting” Kevin said, smiling a brilliant smile. You smiled back, “It’s nice to meet you all.” They all seemed nice and you loved their style, it was just like yours. But one guy caught your eye more than the rest, the one with the striking blue eyes and blue hair to match. You eyed if for a moment before looking away because you didn’t want to get caught staring like some creep. Just then Sam came out of his bedroom holding a black hoodie that said xplr written on the strings that tighten the hoodie, a light pink hoodie that said never normal on it, a black shirt that also said never normal, and a white shirt that said I think she wants to be me on it. “Here you go,” he said when handing them off to you. You loved them and how soft they were. “ Thank you so much Sam but you didn’t have to do this,” you said taking them from his hands and laying them in your arms.

Sam wove his hand in the air, “No problem really, I just want some of your merch when it comes out,” he said, winking at you. You giggled and nodded your head, “Sure thing.” You turned back to the group and gave them one last smile and wave before making your way to the door again. “Goodnight guys, thanks again.” “Goodnight Y/n.” Sam said giving a soft smile before closing the door just to open it a second later, “I promise to keep it down mom,” “oh fuck you!” You laughed before walking into your apartment. You could hear their mixed laughter, making you laugh to yourself before closing your door. You walked back into your room and laid down, your mind still having the blue haired boy in your mind, you didn’t hear his name when Kat said it but you swore it started with a C or something around there. You smiled to yourself when you heard the music turn down. Laying back on the bed, you fell right back asleep.

“So who was that?” Mike asked Sam once him and Kat sat back down on the couch. “Oh that’s our neighbor. She does Youtube just like us, met her a couple of days after moving in here. She’s super nice.” “And pretty.” Kat chimed in. The girls nodded in agreement, “Yeah she was gorgeous.” Tara said. “How come she never came over for pizza night? You’ve known her for what? Almost a year at this point?” Reggie questioned. Sam shook his head and reached for his red solo cup, “I have in the past but she said that she didn’t want to intrude on a friend thing. I told her that she wasn’t but she insisted.” “That sucks, I would love to get to know her.” Devyn pouted, slumping into the couch. “Maybe I’ll convince her to come to the next one,” Kat suggested. Which everyone agreed to. Colby couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful you were. Clean face, no makeup and you still were beautiful. You seemed nice. “Hello. Earth to Colbyyy,” Kevin said waving his hand in front of his face. He shook his head to try and clear his thoughts, “What- sorry. What’s up?” Kevin smirked, “Whatcha thinkin about?” Kevin teased his friend. His cheeks flushed and he felt them heat up, “ Nothing.” “Mmhm. So you weren’t thinking about the hot neighbor?” Ariya asked, tilting his head. Colby’s cheeks heat up more, “OOOO he’s blushing!!” Tara yelled pointing her finger at Colby’s red face.

“Shut up,” he grumbled. Everyone shared a laugh before all conversations resumed and the night went on for another hour and a half before everyone left. Colby threw his keys on the counter before tiredly waddling into his room before crashing on his soft bed. The next morning he woke and reached over to try and grab his phone. But when his hand landed on his nightstand, his phone was nowhere to be found. He lifted his head and groaned when he couldn’t see his phone. Colby sat up and threw on a hoodie that he had lying on the foot of his bed before walking towards the apartment door. Looking at the clock on the over he saw that it was 11, he knew that Sam would be up. Once he reached Sam’s door, he raised his fist to knock, soon after Sam’s voice rang out, “IT’S OPEN!” Colby opened the door and walked in, “Hey brother, I left my phone here last night. Have you seen it?” he asked. When he looked up he saw Kat and you on the coach, “Oh yea, it’s on the table brother.” Sam called from his kitchen where he was packing his silverware. “ Thank you.” Sam hummed in response.

Colby walked into the living room where you and Kat were. “Hey, Y/n right?” Colby asked. You looked up from the tiktok that Katrina was showing you. “Yup. I’m sorry I missed your name last night.” you said your smile morphing into a slight frown. Colby internally melted from how cute you looked in that moment. “Colby,” he replied. You smiled wide at that, “I love that name.” you complimented. Colby smirked, “I would love to have your number.” Your eyes widened, “That was smooth as fuck. I’ll give you points.” You laughed. Katrina and Sam laughed at your remark, “Give me your phone,” Colby smiled and threw you his phone, you pressed your number into it then threw it back. Colby smiled at the name, you put your name in with a black heart at the end with a winky face. You stood up from the couch and yawned, “I’m going to take a nap but I’ll see you guys tonight?” You asked about fixing your pants and looked over at Sam. He nodded, “Yup.” Colby’s eye’s widened along with his smile, “You’re coming over tonight? To hang out with us?” You laughed at Colby’s dumbfounded expression and nodded, “Yeah, figured I’d give it a whirl.” You teased. Colby playfully rolled his eyes, “haha very funny. We’re very funny and nice.” You winked at him, “I’m sure you are. See you later neighbors.” Kat stood up and followed you to the door.

“I wanna take a nap with you!”

[dreaming-gamer]

Eyy! Now, I have a proper V HC request, hihi!😍😍😍❤❤❤🙈🙈🙈 The gang ( include anyone you want ) introducing V to his very first cosplay convention!😍😍😍❤❤❤ I'll patiently wait, my dear. I love your V HCs so much😍😍😍❤❤❤

Hello dear! <3<3<3 Thank you so much for liking my headcanons and the request! :D :D :D I’m sorry this one took so long, I should have posted this one much earlier but better late than never? *sweats* 

In any case, here we go! <3<3<3

Random headcanon: Cosplay convention

Nico:

Nico is the first one to jump at the idea when she finds out V has never been to a cosplay convention. She loves those because people just let their creativity flow and she is among them. Creating an impressive cosplay that lets her display her genius, oh that’s right up her alley.

Of course the work on the van and Nero’s Devil Breakers go first, but the Queen of Machines can juggle that and more if needs be. If she’s going to a convention, you can bet she’s going to show off something that’s flashy and functional.

She’s all for helping the others find something they want to dress up in as well, they don’t even have to take something as spectacular as she does, if they don’t want to. If they do, she’s all for helping them with something on the more mechanical style as sewing and fabrics aren’t her thing.

Honestly, she just wants her friends to come along, try the event out. If someone really doesn’t want to dress up, she won’t push the suggestion too much but if she can work on them for a bit, they might open up to it. She’s the one to convince V to come along, claiming she can find just the right character for him.

Though Nico is able and considered fixing a workable Gundam costume (complete with rockets and guns, could it get better?!), she ultimately chose Mei Hatsume from My Hero Academia as her own cosplay character because let’s face it, it would let her show off more of her creations.

The costume itself she found online, cheap and the inventions are the important part, so that’s all good for her. A prototype is customized to function as a flying skateboard for anyone who wants to try, an Overture is remodeled to set off (harmless) fireworks rather than demon-killing sparks, a Dr Faust replica with built-in video and audio to teach you Michael Jackson moves on the go, she brings an array of different inventions and many are a success with younger audiences.

Nero (& Kyrie):

Nero’s never been to a cosplay convention, he’s just as new to them as V is. As a kid, he wanted to dress up and go to gatherings like that because it looked fun and hopefully no one would look at him funny, as they did in the Order.

Now that he feels more secure in his own skin, having come to terms with his heritage and how he can use it to protect his family, Nero doesn’t feel the immediate need to dress up for the convention but when Kyrie mentions it might be fun, he falls for the suggestion.

Whenever the orphans’ clothes get holes, Kyrie fixes them with her sewing but she is uncertain she has the skills and the time to fix herself and Nero matching outfits in time for the convention, when they have both decided they’ll go. And Nico has convinced them that they’ll have the most fun if they dress up.

Nero is supportive, he’s fine with whichever costume Kyrie wants to do, he doesn’t push and he’s fine with just going as they are as well if it spares Kyrie some trouble, but the kids are very insistent. And Kyrie sometimes has a hard time saying no to them.

Knowing it’s one of Kyrie’s favorite Disney movies, Nero suggests Beauty and the Beast for the two of them. Kyrie wants Nero to have fun and get the whole experience by dressing up, but at first, she is a little bit hesitant about his suggestion. She never wants Nero to feel like she doubts him or his humanity ever again.

They have been through a lot and so, they just talk it out, ending the discussion with soft whispers of love and care and in agreement over their choice.

As for their costumes, they don’t buy anything new. They check their closets for anything unused or something that can just be adjusted. In their eyes, the details don’t have to be perfect as long as they are both having fun. Kyrie also has a field day trying to put make-up on Nero’s face for the Beast look. Honestly, she does a good job. And the clothes she adjusted for Nero’s blue Beast attire, as well as her own blue and white dress for Belle, look great and she feels proud over her work.

At the convention, Nero will make sure to keep an eye on her, make sure she won’t be dehydrated or stay on her feet for too long in queues. It’s mostly unexplored ground for both of them, but they have a lot of fun just people-watching and following the three orphans under their care around, as the boys point out characters that they know everywhere. If the boys don’t recognize someone, they’ll run right up and ask.

Their camera roll is full of pictures of other cosplayers and the kids posing at the end of the day. And Nico snuck in a few pictures of Nero and Kyrie as well.

Dante:

It’s a party, Dante’s interested, enough said. He doesn’t mind grabbing the most ridiculous outfits if it gives him the love of the crowd. At a convention, people of all ages gather so it will be some simple, awesome fun.

As for him choosing a cosplay, the Dr. Faust hat has made him realize he rocks wearing a hat so he initially thought of cosplaying Alucard from Hellsing but after realizing V would cosplay another Alucard, he switched gears. Actually, Dante might just prefer cosplaying a character that likes having fun, just like he does.

By coincidence, he found Vash the Stampede from Trigun and though there is no hat involved, hey, the guy rocks red just as well as Dante does and he uses guns. Does Dante know anything about the character? Not really but that doesn’t stop him from rocking it. Plus, Dante already has red clothes, it’s just a matter of going into character because adjusting those clothes, he knows not how to do.

At said convention, he instantly clicks with a Deadpool cosplayer and they dance to Michael Jackson songs. They also photobomb some cosplay shoots, all in good fun. He lives for the spirit of people just having fun and humans just being humans, gathering thanks to a common interest.

Dante is the type who comes to a convention with several outfits. Or at least he would, if he had enough money for it. Since most of his paycheck goes to keeping the gas, water and electricity at Devil May Cry running, he resorts to simple, but effective ways to show off character, both his own and from other series.

V:

When the idea of going to a cosplay convention is first introduced to him, along with what it actually entails, he’s a bit skeptical. Nico telling him that there will be a ton of people doesn’t really sell him on it as he’s not that fond of crowds. But hearing that many will dress up as characters from stories they enjoy catches his attention. If he agrees to go, maybe he should be sure to make the most of it. And when Nico notices that shift in his demeanor, she keeps pushing him to join, juuust a bit.

For V, cosplay sounds like a way to show appreciation for characters and the stories they star in. Being the big fan of literature and poetry that he is, this aspect of the event does trigger his interest but when Nico gives him the idea to try out cosplay himself, she suggests that he shouldn’t go with cosplaying William Blake. Griffon laughs out loud at the mere idea but his suggestion of V cosplaying as a Disney princess (the orphans under Nero’s and Kyrie’s care have tried to show the avian various Disney movies, further adding to his arsenal of nicknames for V), is equally shot down.

V does want to put some thought and care into who to cosplay, but he also acknowledges his lack of sewing skills and is not too into the thought of buying a costume for himself with his limited funds. Kyrie offers to help but he is hesitant to accept it, seeing how she is trying to make something wearable for both herself, Nero and three little boys.

Ultimately, Nico and surprisingly, Dante become his greatest helpers. The childhood home of the sons of Spardas might have mostly fallen apart, but there are still some of their father’s old black robes in one of the rooms. It needs some adjustments, being too big on V’s lean frame, but the length is pretty spot on.

Nico demonstrates an automatic multi-tool that includes both measuring and sewing capabilities, as well as a laser pointer and a demon alarm that accidentally trips when Griffon is present. V doesn’t ask why she saw the necessity to put all of those functions together, but in the end, two of them are helpful for their situation. And she will show it off at the convention, as part of her genius.

How Dante does it, V doesn’t know, but one day, a long blonde wig is delivered to Devil May Cry, perfect for his decided cosplay. Turns out Dante’s flirt with the lady at the costume shop was helpful.

Ultimately, V feels very satisfied with his appearance as Alucard from Castlevania. The black robes are a different material from his regular leather vest but it’s still in black and thus, he feels right at home in it rather quickly. The long blonde wig takes some more time to adjust to.

What he had not anticipated were people asking to photograph him in this getup but thankfully, V took his time to research his character’s lines and mannerisms. Alucard is a gentleman, so V doesn’t find it very hard at all.

During the convention, Nero and Kyrie have enough on their plate, keeping an eye on the boys, so Nico usually stays close to V. Their chosen media are not anything alike, but that hardly matters. Nico is easily swept up in the excitement of the convention and seeing her makes V think that letting loose once in a while isn’t so bad.

Griffon stars in V’s cosplay as well, dressed up as a bat.

The next day, V will be a bit socially exhausted. Expect him to keep to himself with his book and tea for a good remainder of the day.

[dontshootmespence]

An Artist In His Own Mind

Summary: Every artist is a genius in his own mind.

Words: 2,900

Warnings: Talk of murder.

A/N: My next entry for @cmbingo​ 2020! This fulfills my unsub square. 

“Painting is self-discovery. Every good artist paints what he is.” – Jackson Pollock

He needed silence to work.

Finally, the pleas that rang through the air subsided, leaving him with peace and quiet to think. Moving quickly was essential - before the bodies became too stiff to work with. They were the perfect specimens for his first piece.

After propping her up onto the chair with her palms upward, he wiped the blood off her neck: a clean canvas. White cloth draped around her neck and body, though it took longer than he expected to get the material to sit just right. Thankfully, he at least partly situated the boy into the position he needed. If he hadn’t there would’ve been much more damage getting him situated into the woman’s arms. It left him more time to clean the boy off and ensure a perfect finished work of art.

They lived alone and had little contact with others in the neighborhood. No one would come looking for a while. Due to the boy’s slightly contorted position it took a while to get his clothes off, but once they’d been removed, he draped the excess cloth hanging from the woman’s body over his lap.

Stepping back, he admired his work. Like any good artist, he could see areas he’d like to improve, but unfortunately he didn’t have all the time in the world. There was just one final touch. He grabbed a screwdriver from the woman’s basement and pried open the can of paint – SW 7588, Show Stopper. With every jostle of the screwdriver against the lid of the paint can, he grew more and more angry, impatience boiling inside him, the desire to perfect his piece growing exponentially.

Stirring the paint ensured it was smooth and ready for the canvas. The crimson stared back at him. Carefully, he lifted the can above his work, steadily pouring the medium out until it was gone.

With a satisfied sigh, he stepped back and pulled out the Polaroid, capturing his first completed work.

                                                             ---

Morgan walked into the bullpen with sand still scratching at the corners of his eyes. Every heartbeat said coffee. Apparently, Spencer already beat him there. “Late night, kid?” He laughed. He was pouring so much sugar into his coffee, he would swear a little mountain peak was going to breakthrough the top of the steaming liquid.

Grumbling, Spencer nodded. “So late.”

“Alright, Pretty Boy.”

Spencer smirked, glancing toward Morgan quickly before looking away. God, he wanted to go home.

“Woah, woah,” he said, stepping in front of the nearly comatose doctor. “That kinda late night?”

Spencer began walking back toward his desk, whispering, “I’ll never tell.”

“You haven’t dated anyone since Y/N,” Morgan stated, catching up to his evasive friend. “I always thought it was a mistake breaking up with her. You back together?”

“I’ll never tell,” he repeated on a laugh.

Before they could return to their desks and Morgan could pester Spencer just a little bit more, Hotch stepped out of his office and began marching toward the round table room. “Guys, we’ve got a case.”

“It didn’t come through me?” JJ mentioned.

Hotch shook his head. “No, it came directly to me. A friend from New York got out of the city and began working in Cazenovia upstate. He’s got a weird one.”

“How weird?” Rossi asked.

“Even we’ve never seen anything like it.”

Emily sighed heavily. “When does it end?”

It doesn’t, she thought.

                                                             ---

“Where’s Garcia?” Hotch asked.

Emily motioned toward the elevator. “She’s just on her way up. I’ll catch her up once we’re all briefed.”

Nodding, Hotch clicked the button on the remote. “In Cazenovia, there have been three people murdered via a single stab wound to the neck.”

“And they’re connected?” Morgan queried. “How do we know?”

When Hotch clicked the remote, their mouths collectively dropped, eyes alight with a confusion that was hard to come by given their line of work.

“What the hell?” Emily leaned forward in her chair trying to make some sense of the pictures in front of them. “They’ve been posed.”

“And have paint splattered on them.”

“Even though the victims aren’t connected in any way that the local PD can find, they were all killed with a knife. The unique signature is why we were called in.” Hotch passed copies of the files out to each member of the team. “With a signature unique as this and these kills only a week apart, there’s no doubt this unsub is going to strike again soon. We’ll go over victimology on the plane. Wheels up in 30.”

                                                               ---

Despite the sun shining, the jet always felt solemn, like it knew it was a harbinger of bad things to come. “Alright, so what do we know about the victims?” Hotch asked Garcia, her bright and shining face the only light they’d see for at least the next few days.

“The first victims were a mother and son, Linda and Brian Tucker, 40 and 15 years old, found a week ago like this.” She brought up the pictures from the crime scene and flinched. No matter how many crime scenes she saw, she’d never get used to it. “The second victim, found yesterday, was 33-year old Matthew Feldman.”

He was posed in a chair and redressed in a green pea coat and long black pants that were slightly too baggy for his slight frame. His face was bandaged, a white covering wrapped around his ears and tied on the top of his head. And he was doused in orange paint. Garcia’s fingers glided across the keyboard like a seagull over the waves. “I’m checking everything they could’ve possibly had in common. Churches, schools, work places, dry cleaners, nothing. These three aren’t connected. At least as far as I can see.”

“Alright, let’s move away from victimology for the time being,” Hotch said. “What do the crime scene photos tell us about the killer?”

Emily noted the cleanliness of the bodies apart from the paint. “With stab wounds to the neck, they should be drenched in blood, but they aren’t. The area around them is, but they aren’t, like they were wiped off.”

“So they’re clean,” Rossi replied, “But the paint is messy. It could’ve been painted on for more control, but it seems like it was poured.”

Spencer stared at the screen, eyes scanning over the poses on display. “The bodies are intricately posed and cleaned. They’re what matter to him. The bodies are the compulsion, the paint is the signature.”

“What are you thinking, Reid?” Morgan asked.

“They’re works of art,” he said. “See the mother and son? She’s sitting with the boy in her lap, her hands palm up. What does that remind you of?”

An art lover himself, Rossi silently chastised himself for not realizing what the crime scene resembled sooner. “The Pieta. The sculpture of Mary cradling Jesus after his crucifixion…and the man…it’s Van Gogh’s self-portrait after returning from the hospital after having cut off his ear.”

“So this guy thinks himself an artist and is picking victims at random,” Morgan grumbled. “Lovely. We need to get to Cazenovia yesterday.”

                                                             ---

After checking in with Sheriff Meyer, who’d called Hotch in first place, Spencer and Rossi headed to the latest crime scene, leaving JJ, Hotch, Emily and Morgan to liaise with the authorities and try and nail down a profile. “Alright, an artist like this has to be connected to the world in some way,” Morgan insisted. “Maybe he’s an art student, a local artist, something.”

Emily shook her head. “It’s gotta be more than that. If he was successful in any way, wouldn’t the ‘art’ in question be completely perfect? Pristine? The paint is messy. Why?”

“Maybe a rejected artist then,” he replied. “Someone who got denied viewership in a gallery or turned away from a prestigious art school. Color could be part of why he was turned down, so when it comes to the paint he’s disorganized.”

Before anyone could alert Garcia, the sheriff walked in, forlorn. “We’ve got another one.”

                                                             ---

“What’s this one supposed to be?” Emily asked.

Spencer crouched near the man’s body, his torso wrapped in a similar pea coat to the last victim and a captain’s hat, yellowed with age – all topped with yellow paint. “Portrait of Dr. Gachet. Another Van Gogh piece. It seems a pattern is forming. Both pieces are very melancholic. Could be a reflection of our unsub.”

Morgan reached his gloved hand into the man’s pocket. “46 year old Andrew Warner. Lemme call Garcia.”

“You’ve reached the all-knowing and all-seeing Oracle of Quantico, how may I assist thee?”

“What can you give me on an Andrew Warner?”

“Andrew Warner, 1109 Nighthawk Lane, Syracuse, NY. He’s the operator of a local art gallery in Auburn called Light’s Meaning…sounds a little pretentious if you ask me.”

“Thanks, baby girl,” Morgan said softly. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“I’m waiting on it, sugar.” 

“Seems like our unsub is starting to get a little closer to his true targets. How much you wanna bet our guy was rejected by Andrew Warner?”

“Less than a day in between kills,” Emily interjected. “He’s devolving fast. We need to give the profile.”

                                                             ---

As the officers piled into the station’s bullpen, the team gathered before them. JJ took a step forward and asked for everyone’s attention. “Listen closely. This unsub is devolving fast and this profile is going to be the best way to catch him.”

“Alright, we’re looking for a white male between the ages of 20 and 30 whose been rejected from art school or a showing at a gallery,” Emily projected toward the murmuring crowd. No matter how many times they gave a profile to an innumerable amount of officers and detectives, there were always a few skeptics.

Leaning against the back wall, Spencer spoke. “He’s an injustice collector of sorts and feels that he’s been wronged. For right now, his victims are random, but they’re surrogates for the people who rejected him.”

“He’s devolving fast,” Hotch said. “Even though the crime scenes are still organized, the bodies are still being cleaned and the paint is still his signature, he’s killing more quickly with less and less time between kills.”

Morgan insisted. “That’s why we need all of you involved in the search for our unsub. The quicker we can pin down who he is, where he was rejected from and who wronged him, the more people we’ll be able to save. We need to get ahead of this guy.”

“And one more thing,” Emily added. “Given the likelihood that this is a student who’s been rejected, and the time of year, October. It’s likely the unsub was rejected months ago and there’s a secondary stressor that kick-started the killing spree. However, we can’t rule out that this is someone rejected from a gallery. Just something to keep in mind.”

                                                               ---

He could feel the breeze brush by him as he hurriedly ran downstairs, barreling through anything that might be in his way. The FBI was in town and he still had work to do, but he’d have to move his schedule forward.

On the table sat a newspaper clipping: “Administrator Gavin P. Hall promoted to President at Tisch.”

                                                             ---

Garcia had this innate ability to shine in the face of darkness. Something the rest of the team envied her for. She slid across the floor of her office, the wheels of her chair carrying her gracefully though she somehow managed to bump into her computer desk. “Okay, my pretties, I have been doing a lot of digging and I mean a lot. My hands are dirty and it’s caked under my fingernails kind of dirty. Now, I know the locals have been going door to door searching for anyone that fits the profile and has been rejected from a gallery, so I decided to look into people in the greater New York area that have been rejected from art school and boy do I have a list for you.”

“Send it over, baby girl.”

She feigned a gasp. “Mon ami, you don’t think that happened 30 seconds ago?”

“Garcia, can you narrow this list down?” Spencer asked. “We think there’s another more recent stressor that sparked the killing spree.”

“I’m gonna need something specific to narrow it down by,” she said sadly. “I mean I am an all powerful super genius hacker chick, but I can’t pull answers out of thin air.”

Rossi tapped his fingers against the desk. “Okay, okay, the third and fourth victims were both depicted like Van Gogh’s works, right? Why wasn’t the first one? The mother and son?”

“Okay, so the mother and son has to mean something,” Hotch admitted.

Spencer pushed back from the table. “With an unsub so purposeful, the bodies, the way they’re cleaned and positioned, the paints. It all means something, so a mother and a son. Garcia, have any of the suspects lost their mother recently.”

With a few quick swipes of the keys, Garcia had a list of five names. “Only one of them has lost their mother in the last week and a half though?” She said. “Trenton Price, and his address is now on your phones. Also, out of the five finalists, he’s the only one to be rejected from Tisch – one of the premiere art schools in the country.”

They all pushed back from the table, intent clear. “Alright, Reid, you, me and Emily will head to Price’s address. Rossi, you, Morgan and JJ head to Tisch, interview anyone that was involved in Price’s rejection.”

                                                             ---

It would take hours for Spencer, Emily and Hotch to catch up with them, but at least they could give them a heads up. “Morgan, it’s Reid. We went to the address and he wasn’t there, but his cellphone went on and Garcia triangulated the call-“

“Lemme guess, he’s at Tisch.”

“Yup. Be careful.”

“Thanks for the heads up, kid.”

Rossi stepped on the gas, sirens blaring. “We’ll be there in five.”

“You sure about that?” JJ grimaced, hand grasping the handle above the window like her life depended on it. “We’re in the middle of New York City.”

“And I grew up on Long Island, I got this.”

In less than five minutes, Rossi screeched the car to a halt and they ran in, guns at the ready. Students ran down the hallways and down the stairs toward any exit they could find. “Where? Where are they?” JJ yelled.

“In the president’s office! Second floor!” She screamed, the clacking of her heels dissipating within the seconds.

They ran up the stairs, hearts racing while students ran passed, whispers of the ensuing sanity floating by their ears. “Trenton Price,” Morgan screamed, “Put your weapon down!”

“No! They have to pay! I’ve worked all my life for this and they just shut me down! Like the pretentious bastards they are!”

In his grasp, Gavin Hall squirmed but the knife inched closer and closer to his throat. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

Rossi stepped in front of Morgan and JJ, taking the lead though none of them had vests on. They never expected him to be so desperate so soon. “Trenton, don’t do anything you’re gonna regret,” he pleaded. “If you kill Hall here, you’ll take away his ability to make things right. Give you the opportunities you deserve.”

JJ snaked around the back of Rossi and trained her gun on Price, hoping for a chance to get a shot off.

“Yea, right! What d’you think I’m stupid?”

Nodding slightly, Rossi encouraged the terrified Hall to ‘make amends.’ Rossi prompted him. “Your mother was your biggest fan, wasn’t she? Encouraged your artistic abilities?”

“Yes, she always knew I’d be an artist, and now I am,” he breathed, a tear falling down the side of his cheek. “But then they rejected me. Told me I was an amateur! That my choice of medium was basic and pedantic. Do you know how many skilled artists specialized in charcoal? Robert Longo, William Kentridge, Dan Pyle, Joel Daniel Phillips! And these assholes tell me I’m arcane and talentless?”

“You’re not,” Hall said, putting together the pieces of Price’s mental state. “I was wrong about you. About your work.

“Liar!” He lifted his arm above his head. A crack resounded throughout the room and he fell to the floor, groaning.

JJ ran up to him and kicked the knife away, holstering her gun before turning him over and cuffing him. “You okay?” She asked Hall.

“Y-yes,” he breathed. “I’m okay. I-“

“You got this?” Morgan asked.

She nodded. “Yea, I’m good, get him to the medic.”

Price screamed at the top of his lungs through the hallways, telling anyone and everyone that he was going to be the next great artist. “Please,” JJ replied. “You’re throwing a temper tantrum because you didn’t get what you wanted.”

                                                              ---

“So, kid,” Morgan said with a smile. “You gotta tell me about the other night. What happened with Y/N?” 

Emily’s eyes lit up and she practically jumped into the seat next to him. “Wait, you two back together?”

He shook his head but he wasn’t convincing in the slightest. “As soon as we get back, I am going home and going to bed.”

“With Y/N?”

“I’m not telling,” he smirked.

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Call and Fold

BTS

Jimin/Reader

Genre: Drabble, Mafia AU, Stranger-Lovers, Poor Description of Poker

Words: 2k

Mafia AU/ Stranger-Lovers/ “Are you sure this is legal?”

Requested by: @authorofdanger

XXX

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You screeched as you found yourself at a poker table at the casino you were dragged to by your family.  You were apparently supposed to have a bonding night of some family fun (slightly boring) games, but that somehow turned to booze and gambling at the nearest boat.  

Being shoved into a stool by your older brother, he tipped his beer back at the neck of the bottle and downed enough to make his breath stick.  He belched as you wanted to die as he slides into a booth on your left. 

You cradled your head into your palm as you dreaded the rest of the night.  Your brother wasn’t exactly known for holding his liquor and the last thing you wanted to do was gamble your money away and babysit a 28-year-old man who is sending himself to an early grave.  

God only knows where your parents ran off too.  They may be middle-aged, but with the number of risque jokes your father still pulled on your mother, you wouldn't be surprised if they rented a hotel room in this damn place. 

To your right, you heard someone chuckle.  Looking up, you saw a man to your right.  Sitting in the stool next to you, a stack of chips and a hand of cards the dealer had dealt earlier.  He seemed to have been at this particular table for a while now.  He looked comfortable in his stool as he had one hand over his mouth.  

You could see his cheeks pushing up as he side-eyed you.  You looked back at your brother then to him and watched him roll his eyes in a teasing manner.  You groaned as you dug your elbows into the poker tables edge and buried your face into your hands.  

“Kill me now,” you pleaded.  The action at the table started with your brother as a new player. You quickly hopped out of your stool and offered it to some gentlemen who wanted in on the action.  You didn’t know the first thing about poker.  

Though, as the game progressed and hands were dealt and calls were made, you could tell your brother was loosing royally. 

You stood at his side behind him, in your dress your mother forced you into as you nursed on a glass of scotch.  You sighed as you debated on taking a shot as your brother was running himself into the ground.  

The man from before was still at the table. 

“Bet. Straight flush.” A woman at the end of the table cheered for her fiance as he tutted his nose in the air.  

“Call.” The man who snickered at you before spoke up.  He laid his cards down flat in sequence.  “Royal,” he said as the man from before was now groaning and moaning as his fiance pat sympathetically at his shoulder.  

Chips were slid to the mystery winning man and a new hand was dealt. Watching your brother play and fail as well as watching the man play and succeed, you were getting the basics of the game around you.  

You finally convinced your brother to go and sit at the bar for a while.  To either sober up or get further drunk, you didn’t care.  Just to get him away from the table.  He did so, but only after you lied to him about some lady waving him over. You signed as he finally staggered off.  

“Hey,” someone called you.  You saw Mr. Money-man as he stood from his stool and ticked his head.  “Sit.  Play a game.”  You looked at him and then to the stool than to the table and dealer who shuffled and tossed cards around as art to shuffle them. 

“Oh, I don’t play.”  

Money-man clucked his tongue.  “I’ll walk you through it.”  You sighed, more loosened up thanks to your alcohol and slid into the stool he once occupied.  He stood behind you.  “I figure watching is learning and you’ve been watching quite a while.” 

You rolled your eyes as a few others joined the table. 

“Don’t remind me.  He’s a pain in the ass and I refuse to be related to anyone who is drunk from less than 2 shots.” You looked over your shoulder at him.  “You’re not hitting on me? Are you?” 

“Would it be a problem if I was?” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his slacks.  Looking him over now, he was very well dressed.  A blazer of ruby red and a pair of wrinkle-free black slacks with a white collar shirt.  His shoes were shining and spotless.  Chain necklace around his neck and his hair parted on his forehead, he tutted at you as he noticed your wandering eyes.  “Impressed?” He asked. 

“Would it be a problem if I was?” You mimicked his words.  

“She’s got a sense of humor.”

“She also has a name.” You turned back to the table. 

“I see your training this game Mr. Park?” The dealer said to the man behind you.  You watched as Mr. Park moved and pushed a few of his chips forward from the last game he played as you took over for him this one.  

“Giving it a go.  Always nice to try new things.  A student to carry my clean streak in poker isn’t a bad way to go.”  He then looked down at you as he peered over your shoulder standing at your side.  “And what is my student’s name?” 

“Y/n.” 

Mr. Park offered you his hand.  “Jimin.  A pleasure to meet you.” The cards were dealt and as you looked at them, you watched as Jimin told you to rearrange your hand, or told you to fold for a round.  He instructed you when to bet, or when to call and raise to someone’s cards.  Eventually, you were floating alright on your own as Jimin stood and watched you.  

By the time you had your fill of the game, Jimin was walking away with most of the money he earned from his games as you managed to keep it pretty even from the times you lost or won.  

It was midnight now and as you looked around for your brother, your phone rang.  You had long since left Jimin and poker behind as you found a quiet place to answer your phone.  

Your mother had run into your brother as they both went home and your father was still gambling for a while yet before he took a taxi back home.  You sighed, now allow and stranded as some casino and you wanted more than ever to just leave.  Maybe you should rent a room for the night and leave tomorrow?

As you looked down at your phone screen in your tucked away corner from the gambling life, an envelope was presented to you.  Following the hand and arm of the person offering it, you saw Jimin standing there.  one hand in his pocket as the other placed that same envelope on your phone’s screen.  It was hefty, for something so small. 

“Jimin?  What is this?” 

“Your winnings.” 

“My what?” Jimin chuckled as he motioned for you to open it up.  Inside were bills of cash.  You nearly dropped the cash and your phone.  

“What is this?!” You repeat.  

“The cash you won off your games.  You played for it, so it’s only fair you take it.”  You shook your head.  Tempting as the cash was, you couldn’t take it.  After all, you only played off of what Jimin had to start with from his games.  It was rightfully his. “Alright, compromise.” Jimin took the offered cash back as he tucked it into a pocket inside his blazer. “We both use this cash if you let me take you out next Wednesday.”  

He pulled his phone out as he opened it up, the add contact screen already up and ready for all your info.  You looked at him. 

“Seriously?” He laughed as he plucked your phone from you before it locked and gave you his.  So, your boring night of gambling turned into a new very attractive acquaintance and a future date. 

-3 Months Later-

“Is this even legal?” You asked as you watched Jimin beat a padlock with a metal pipe until it busted open.  He dropped the pipe as he dusted his hands off.  You’ve long since learned of his profession in the mafia.  Seeing how you met him in a casino so classy and decked up as well as his luck in the game, you should’ve guessed.  Of course, his plays were always cheated and altered in his favor.  

He looked at you, licking his lips as he flicked his brows up. Cocky bastard.  “is anything I do legal?” He asked as he pushed open the now open metal door.  “Ladies first.”

“What a gentleman.” 

You didn’t really know what was going on, or why he insisted you come with him on his specific job, but here you were.  A few of his guys were sitting put in the van he took here as Jimin seemed oddly calm.  He wasn’t on edge or tense like he would be on enemy territory. 

“Where are we?” 

“Or, we’re at a friend’s warehouse.  He wouldn’t give me his key and I need something in here.”

“So, the solution was to bust his lock?” 

“Bastard had it coming.” 

“You are such a child,” you chided as Jimin told you to sit and wait for him as he wandered around the room.  Searching through boxes and trunks and on shelves, he finally found whatever it was he was looking for and trotted back to you. He placed a small box in your hands. “This is?” 

“Open it and find out.” 

Doing so, a small pin sat inside it.  Resting on a velvet square of purple, you picked up the pin from the box.  It was smooth as it ran a perfect circle and sat in the middle of your hand, your palm swallowing it up if you closed your fist.  It was black as it had a metal outline and a golden puma designed on it. 

“Isn’t this your insignia?” He nodded.  Yes, Jimin’s portion of the mafia he controlled was known as Puma.  So, anything related to him and his affairs were always left with this silhouette of the wild cat. 

“I asked someone to make that for you.  But, Seokjin got it and put it in here for me to find like a jerk.”  

“Make it for- wait a second.  Are you putting me under your protection or something?” 

“I am.” 

You whistled in awe.  “That’s a big gesture for someone you met at a casino 3 months ago.” Jimin rolled his eyes.  

“I don’t care.  You know I care about you, you just won’t agree to be my girlfriend.” 

“Oh please.  You’ve asked like what- 3 times?” 

“5 times thank you very much!” You rolled your eyes at him as you held the pin over your shirt. 

“Should I put it on? Or maybe keep it on my bag.  Or keep it in my wallet?”  Jimin grabbed it and pinned it onto the strap of your bag that was low enough so when you held your bag when you walked, your hand would hide it.  It would be visible enough to be seen by anyone too close to you. 

“That’s a good place,” Jimin said.  “So, you’ll go out with me now?” 

“Of course.  You should’ve asked me sooner,” you teased.  Jimin just pinched your sides as he laughed at you and your unchanged sense of humor. 

“PARK JIMIN WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY LOCK?!” Jimin watched in horror as Seokjin came barreling into his warehouse with his busted lock in his hand.  He looked at you as you just shrugged your shoulder. 

“This one is on you buddy. You’re the one who broke it.” 

“I’m breaking up with you,” he deadpanned.  

“You love me.” You still ended up being lectured along with Jimin by the elder man even though you did nothing wrong.  Apparently letting your boyfriend break locks and do nothing to stop him is an offense of the Great Kim Seokjin.  

[split-n-splice]

Last part to Distance! Now to procrastinate making a new banner for the next arc... pfft

[Chapter Guide]

12. Distance – 5

Drakken lay blinking up at the figure above him surrounded by a halo of light. But she was no angel. She was a far cry from angel. As he gawped up at her, he came to the very sudden and very shocking realization that he couldn’t breathe. There was something very wrong with him – and that damn demon had done it. She’d taken his breath away – literally.

She had some nerve to smile and laugh, even as she reached down to pull him up by an arm, sitting him upright. He made a weak attempt to shove her away as he fought against a paralyzed diaphragm to draw in air. Horrendous wheezes coming from himself drowned out whatever words of ridicule or support she spared as she rubbed his back.

She’d hit him – hard – but maybe he deserved it. He deserved it for the smack he’d given her in the garage last week. Just maybe not so hard as to debilitate him.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t brought it upon himself though. “Are you going easy on me?” had been a slip of the tongue, but it was a serious question regardless of however teasing it came out. He’d known the answer though. She’d worked at a more intensive pace with the henchmen yesterday, and he was beginning to feel shamefully inferior. Until that point, she’d thrown halfhearted blows with next to zero force behind them in a lesson on blocking, moving just slow enough he could react after she’d explained what to expect and how to respond. Clearly it had been the wrong thing to say because she suddenly struck him in the middle with a jab like a viper to remind him what a real punch was like.

At least she hadn’t given him a black eye or bloody nose or split his lip, which had only just healed from last week’s robot mutiny. He was still thoroughly humiliated as he hung his head between his knees and heaved for air. He tried to ignore her crouched next to him as she reigned in her giggle fit.

No sooner was he breathing steadily again did Shego give him a rough pat between the shoulders. She hopped up, grappling at his arms to pull him up along with her. “C’mon, big guy, it’s not that bad. On your feet,” she said through stifled chuckles.

Drakken rubbed his sternum as he rose, blinking against the haze. “Glasses—?” he managed to grumble, trying not to look toward the shape of black-painted lips parted to flash pearly whites. Of course his glasses were pushed up atop his head, and of course she’d reach over to push them down because she’d been the one to push them up for safe keeping while he’d bellyached on the floor.

He glared back at her cheeky smile and jerked away the arm she’d been hanging onto.

Having the wind knocked out of him should have been a clue to call it quits. He didn’t know why he gave in to her goading to continue. Resuming the practice and letting her put her hands on him to instruct him on self defense was a big mistake from the get-go, but he didn’t learn his lesson.

He’d been knocked on his butt enough for one day, and even if there was a padded mat below him, it wasn’t padded enough. Drakken began to wonder if she was keeping tally of how many times she could take him down. He’d lost count himself. He just considered himself lucky she didn’t knock him out cold.

Breathing deep just to be absolutely certain he still could, he stared up at her blurry shape once more. The woman in green and black harlequin uniform knelt down next to him, returning his miraculously-intact glasses to his face for the umpteenth time so he could see her smug smile clearly. He glared past her instead.

It was then he finally noticed the gathering of henchmen lined up on the catwalk above, and he blanched as Shego twisted to look back herself.

Only two henchmen had been summoned to the gym this morning to sharpen their skills with Shego, yet the whole damn crew had come to spectate. They were chattering lowly among each other, passing cash, blatantly taking bets – on what, Drakken wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know. Probably on how many times he fell.

He bolted upright so fast he nearly knocked into the superhuman leaning over him. He checked his watch – it was five till ten – the henchmen were early. And he had the sneaking suspicion they’d been there a while. Long enough to see him flattened one last time, anyway. Somehow that was worse than having the wind knocked out of him.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were there?” he growled over, tucking in his shirt neatly even though he’d be changing it in a few minutes anyway. Force of habit. He caught her sidestepping away, her face flushing a funny shade as she fidgeted behind her back, but the best answer she gave was a shrug to suggest their arrival was news to her too.

Drakken turned his glare up to the henchmen, barking at them to quit standing around and get to work. The two assigned to Shego came forth while the rest of the group split off to the workout equipment. He was conflicted between sticking around to oversee the session and hurrying off to avoid the peer pressure of watching his employees getting daily exercise he so regularly skipped out on. There was no reason for them to all be here, all at once, and he had the queasy feeling it was Shego that lured them to the gym.

But Shego was a skilled fighter. She could handle herself – she’d made that abundantly clear, both to him, and to the whole henchcrew. Worrying about leaving her to them made no sense when her knack for fighting played such a considerable role in why he’d hired her in the first place. They were no match for her. If anything, he should be worried for his crew.

With that in mind, he tried to leave her to it. He changed out of his sweats and T-shirt and tried to unravel scrolls of paper to work on blueprints to fill a custom order, but his mind kept straying from the unfinished page in front of him. He slumped over his lab desk and scratched behind his ear with the pencil, his knee bouncing away anxiously.

This morning, he’d made a point to park out front of her apartment a full hour before she was due to show up at the lair. He’d been just in time, because the civilian Shilo appeared a couple minutes later with her bag of gear. He’d had to honk the horn to catch her attention, because she almost hadn’t noticed him, but he’d seen her breathe a sigh of relief as she turned away from the bus stop down the street to climb into his van instead. He’d suggested grabbing breakfast at the Cow-n-Chow, but she’d vetoed it, reminding him of their arrangement by graciously informing him he’d puke if he ate beforehand. He hadn’t taken her courteous warning seriously then, but he didn’t doubt it now.

Skipping breakfast thanks to her was the only reason he found himself in the kitchen rifling through the cabinets. In the back of his head, he could practically hear his mother’s nagging voice telling him to make a proper breakfast of bacon and eggs and all the works, but he tuned it out, especially when the phantom voice insisted he be a good host and fix enough for a guest.

Popcorn was not a balanced meal.

Popcorn did not need to come with him to the gym.

But it did, and he stood on the catwalk, leaning on the rail and munching away at salty buttery puffs as he watched Shego at work. After a short while, he became aware of chatter behind him, and cast a glance back to the array of equipment the rest of the sweaty henchmen were taking a break from.

He caught one nod up at him as they chuckled amongst themselves, and he straightened up and turned his stare sharply back down to the matted corner where Shego had been tutoring the two newcomers.

But she wasn’t there – she’d already crossed the gym and was climbing the stairs in long strides.

Suddenly his mouth was too dry to even grunt a greeting as he watched her make a beeline straight for him, and she paused just in front of him, if only to snatch the bag of popcorn from his hands. The collar of her uniform was unbuttoned and unzipped enough to expose her throat, and for a fleeting moment Drakken was inclined to shoot a suspicious glare down to the two henchmen plopping down to rest. But Shego tugged the collar open further, her chest heaving, and he saw the sweat on her brow and glitter of green fire over her skin and realized she was simply overheating.

She nodded to the door and strode off with his bag of popcorn. He followed, but didn’t take the bag back from her as she filled him in on how promising or hopeless the dropouts were. She’d snacked through a good portion of it by the time they reached her room, at which point she passed the bag of cold popcorn back and asked if she was done for the day.

He wanted to say no. He didn’t forget that this was Sunday, that she’d be busy all morning and then some tomorrow, as she would every day for the rest of the week. But it would be a little on the absurd side to order her to continue exerting herself on a weekend after earning a day off. He checked his watch needlessly, confirming it wasn’t quite noon yet, and gave her a nod.

Before she ducked into her room, she wondered, “You gonna give me a ride back to town?”

“Sure,” he answered a little too quickly.

She gave him a small smile in a halfhearted show of appreciation, and disappeared inside.

Drakken made a point to drive slowly on the ride in. Broaching the subject of a schedule was disheartening in some way. More formal than he would have liked, maybe, but it had to be done if he wanted to see more of her than a few hours here and there whenever she decided she was bored enough to make the trek to the lair.

By the time he dropped her off at the local library, they’d come to an agreement. It worked in his favor that her apartment didn’t have the luxury of air conditioning, because that was the excuse she gave for agreeing to come to the lair in the afternoons to work with the boys for a couple of hours.

Drakken had no qualms with taking a break from the lab to personally make the trip to town every weekday afternoon. It was good to get out for fresh air to clear his head anyway, so he told himself.

He didn’t dare set foot in Buckley’s Brew that first week. Thankfully the civilian Shilo could be found waiting faithfully for him behind the shop, puffing away at a cigarette more often than not. She’d roll her eyes and snuff it out when she saw him coming.

Over the next few days, he diligently oversaw Shego’s mentoring sessions from the catwalk, though he had the courtesy not to bring popcorn to watch the show. It was still a tempting thought nonetheless, but one he resisted. The men were all business, to his relief, and Shego had more self-control than he would have guessed. He’d been worried for nothing.

After training, she’d spend an hour either on his couch in front of the television, or in a spare chair nearby while he worked on his blueprints and began applying them to prototype instruments of torture as the henchmen gradually supplied the parts.

Friday, she voiced her satisfaction with the progress of the henchmen she was tutoring as she met him up on the catwalk. It brought a smile to Drakken’s face – he was sure he’d seen improvement, but he was no expert. He expected her to follow him at a distance to the lab as she had the past few days, but instead she skipped ahead a few paces and walked backwards as she questioned him about Friday night plans, which he had to shake his head and dismiss. He was too busy to be thinking about Friday night merriment.

“You should really get out,” she said in a chiding manner, swinging around to fall into step beside him. “And I don’t mean grocery shopping. You can do that tomorrow.”

“I’m not being your getaway driver so you can rob a 24-Seven, or whatever you have in mind,” Drakken sighed.

“I wasn’t gonna rob anything,” she scoffed. It was hard to believe her when she gave a small laugh, especially when she shrugged and added, “Well, not really. Unless you’re down to dine and dash.”

“Pass.” He didn’t need to be banned from more businesses than he already was.

She was quiet for a moment too long, and he made the mistake of glancing over to see her chewing a nail and watching the floor in a way he’d come to recognize as meaning she was thinking. He snapped his head to stare straight down the hall again when she looked up at him and said, “You have to take me home anyway, so we might as well stop for Chow.”

“Actually I was going to ask Lux to take you,” he lied. It was reflex. It shouldn’t have been reflex. He regretted it almost as soon as he said it, but going back on his word was almost as bad.

“Fine,” she chimed, taking a swift step ahead of him. “Lux works. Goodness knows he’s a junk-food junkie.”

Drakken knew it was reverse psychology. She wasn’t fooling him. Yet he threw his hands in the air anyway, letting out a noise of exasperation as he quickly stalked forward to cut her off on the way into his office. He gave himself half an hour to get the henchmen sent off for the weekend before she was done with her post-workout grooming.

It was pushing it, but when she came trotting back down into the office to ask about her ride, he shrugged and deposited a folder into a filing cabinet. The henchmen weren’t all gone-gone, but they were officially off duty and therefore out of his control.

She snorted and turned on her heel, calling from the stairwell, “Fine. I’ll walk.”

Drakken hesitated behind his desk before hurrying after her. If he wanted to stay in her good favor, then effort on his part had to be made. He’d taken her home – or at least to the library – every night this week, and there was no reason to make the exception now.

Cow-n-Chow was out of the question. She complained as he drove past it, but hummed in consideration when they pulled into a bar and grill instead, only to groan loudly when she saw the karaoke sign in the window. No sooner had they climbed out did a red Beetle pull up alongside the van, and henchmen in casual attire greeted Drakken amicably as they piled out of the clown car. It came as a genuine surprise to him, and maybe not an agreeable one.

Cow-n-Chow down the street was looking a lot more appealing suddenly.

At the first sign of second thoughts, Shego – Shilo – grabbed his arm and tugged him along, smiling wickedly and reminding him, “This was your idea, Doc.”

So it wasn’t just the two of them, but half the henchcrew too. Big deal. She still sat next to him. And when he went up on the platform to take the spotlight, he still had her full attention. Unfortunately for him, she had his as well. She looked him dead in the eye from across the room as she plucked a chicken strip from his platter to munch on. He’d stuttered and slurred a couple lines, but he still earned a few claps for his rendition of Bad Moon Rising, just not from her.

He didn’t feel particularly dignified as he tripped down the stairs either, though that was on him for foolishly glaring at her rather than watching where he was going. His ego was taking a beating lately with her around. Judging by her look, he braced for her to grind salt into the wound, but instead she gave his shoulder a light thump with the back of her hand and rolled her eyes, nonchalantly complimenting, “Alright, that was pretty good.”

She excused herself to use the restroom then, and that was the last he saw of her until Monday afternoon.

She was found smoking behind Buckley’s Brew again, only this time she was chatting with a gal, one of Buckley’s henchgirl apprentices. Making friends wasn’t something he himself had been especially good at, but it was nice to see her give a hearty laugh at some joke and playfully shove her smoking buddy before Drakken ruined the moment with a beep of the horn. Her smile fell when she saw him – he shouldn’t have hated that as much as he did – but she waved goodbye to her coworker and came sauntering over to him nonetheless.

He didn’t linger as long in the gym to supervise that afternoon. He spent less time there on the catwalk the next day, but it was the same old dance as he’d been watching all of last week. He didn’t particularly want to be on the receiving end of her strikes, but he didn’t want to hover with an unreasonable growing envy of the henchmen either.

He had work to do in the lab anyway. She’d come and take her turn to hover soon enough.

At least, until Thursday came, and she didn’t pop up in his lab after the training session. He was determined to not notice, determined to focus on the special order. But after some time of building the framework and upholstering a seat in red leather, he yawned and checked his watch and realized it was nearing midnight and she’d never come around to ask him for a ride home. If he’d hoped to find her on his couch, he was disappointed, but he supposed he deserved her unannounced departure for not speaking a word to her since waving her off to train the henchmen earlier.

She wasn’t waiting for him behind the café on Friday afternoon. But he waited for her, no matter how impatient he was. He even risked venturing into Buckley’s to see if she was still working the counter, but when he asked about their coworker Shilo, the baristas there smiled nastily and feigned ignorance. He didn’t waste any more time there and left without ordering, although in hindsight doing so and tipping may have gotten him better answers.

He was completely caught off guard when Shego showed up in his lab hours later, startling him with the announcement, “Sorry I’m late. I caught a matinee.” It wasn’t a particularly heartfelt apology.

There was no reason for those words to wound him, but they struck him nonetheless. It stung he wasn’t invited after she’d been pestering him about getting out on Fridays all this time. But he knew if he complained, she’d just shoot him down with something along the lines of, “You wouldn’t have gone anyway.”

Just thinking about it, he twisted a bolt too carelessly with too much force. The wrench lost its grip and a pop in the face had him instantly too distracted to give Shego a proper greeting or complain about the exclusion. He had a bloody nose to tend to, and her laughter to run away from.

[acryofpain]

Whump Rewrites: Part 2

Excerpt from chapter 4 of John Dies at the End by David Wong.

•••

An hour later, I pulled my Hyundai into Shire Village. I couldn’t get a hold of John anymore, and every few minutes my phone would ring and then stop before I could answer the call, as if he was trying to contact me but failing. I resigned myself to the hope that whatever I had to do next would be apparent from a look at Robert’s place.

His trailer was one of only two that had yellow police tape over the porch and door, and the other one looked as if it had been abandoned months ago. I parked off in the grass across the lot and walked toward Robert’s abode. Nobody was there, or at least nobody that had come in a car. I knocked for some reason – brain still a little foggy and knee throbbing, producing a slight limp in my step – then went in.

They’d cleaned up the blood and guts. I guess that shouldn’t have surprised me, since I should have known they wouldn’t just let entrails collect flies for twelve hours. Still, I recognized the room from the photos I’d been shown, the scene of Robert’s spontaneous explosion. The carpet was a few shades off from its original colour and the walls were forever stained a faded reddish-brown. And there was a smell, awful and organic, sharp and rotten.

I decided right then that I would leave and go home and watch some TV and drink a –

Thump.

I nearly pissed myself. It was a faint sound, from the other end of the trailer. The kitchen end. I stepped into the hall, expecting to see a flame-shooting vampire, a squid-clown hybrid, the Devil himself.

Nothing. Probably just wind. A micro-earthquake. Sudden termite migration.

THUMP.

It was heavier this time, violent. Adrenaline set my muscles on fire and, like a dumbass, I moved toward the sound. Definitely from the kitchen. In seven steps I crossed the Robert Marley estate and my shoes hit linoleum. I looked around at the counter, floor, and appliances, searching for anything that might’ve been out of place. No elves, no gremlins, no nothing. Not yet.

Dead silence. I realized I was holding my breath and had gotten a little dizzy, still not completely recovered from earlier. I realized I was not holding a weapon.

THUMP.

The refrigerator.

THUMP.

No. The freezer section at the top. The little door up there rattled with the sound, like it was bumped –

THUMP.

– from the inside.

Get out. Get out, David, go, go go, go, GO GO GO

With one last thump, the freezer door flew open. A small, shiny, frosted metal canister zipped out and bounced off the panelled wall above me before falling to the carpet, bouncing, and landing next to my shoe. I steeled my courage, then turned and ran my ass off.

In three flying strides I’d made it to the exit, but a half second before my hand would have ripped the knob off the front door, I happened to glance out the window and see a sedan parked out there where none had been before. Plain white, too many antennas.

Cop car.

Somebody getting out.

Morgan fucking Freeman.

He lit a cigarette outside his vehicle, ten feet away from me. I spun around, eyes searching for another way out, but even if there was one it would mean stepping over the possessed jar or whatever had come out of the freezer. It was now sitting on the tile, rocking back and forth, steaming faintly.

No thanks.

A glance back outside. My cop friend was still there, leaning against the car and blowing smoke into the air like some emotionally damaged black-and-white movie detective.

Pock!

A hollow snapping sound. The canister hopped an inch off the floor and so did I when I heard it. It did it again, jumping higher, and I let out a low whine of frustration.

The rumble of an engine emanated from outside and I had the vague idea that maybe, just maybe, Morgan had changed his mind and was now leaving. But with a glance out the window I spotted the news van that was pulling up next to the cop’s cruiser, and he was straightening up, looking a little more than disgruntled with his visitors.

POCK! POCK! POCK!

All of a sudden being arrested didn’t seem so bad – even if it had to be on live TV – and I should have ducked outside with my hands raised high in surrender. Fear kept me velcroed to the doormat, though. I could hear the muffled voices of Morgan and a news reporter having a terse, forced-politeness contest, the detective very adamantly insisting that he had no comments about the tragedies that had taken place inside.

Without warning, and with an incredible, ear-popping snap, the canister erupted, two tiny black pebbles shooting out and ricocheting chaotically before clattering to a stop on the tile. My heart was trying to punch a hole in my sternum at that point and I craned my neck around to examine the scene outside, the cop turning right to me at that exact second to gesture at the trailer. I threw myself back down, cursing under my breath.

He saw you. Did you see the flicker of surprise on his face? He caught a glimpse of your head. Dumbass.

The two pebble things now sat innocently on the ground, unmoving. Waiting.

You know what those are, right?

Nope. No idea.

You know Robert had a stash of that soy sauce shit.

Faint voices, arguing outside.

He couldn’t just cram it under his bed. That shit moves. It has a will, an attitude. It bites.

And then I realized, all at once, what I had come here for. John led me here, of course. When I was on the stuff, the little hit in my bloodstream I got when it attacked my thigh, I could communicate with John. When it wore off, I could not. My one chance to save him lay directly before me, wicked as it apparently was. I picked up the pill-shaped... things, looking like two coal-flavoured Tic Tacs in my palm.

Suddenly, they launched themselves at me. I didn’t realize my mouth was hanging open until that moment and if I had known I would’ve closed it, I assure you. In an instant one was skipping off my tongue and I coughed, hacked, convulsed. It forced itself down my throat and I could feel it wiggling all the way down to my gut. I clamped my lips shut and slapped my hand over my mouth for good measure, pushing myself hard against the wall behind me as if that would keep the sauce away. The second pill landed on my left cheek and then there was pain, a bright, acidic burn that seemed to radiate down to my toes, mixed with the weird, buzzing itch that comes specifically with tearing flesh, the feel of whole nerve endings being torn from their roots and tossed aside. I tasted the copper flow of blood in my mouth, felt something moving against my teeth.

The fucking soy sauce was digging a hole into my fucking face.

I fell flat on the floor, thrashing and rolling like I was having a seizure. I forgot where I was, who I was, everything in my mind vaporized by a hydrogen bomb of pure panic. My face and shirt were wet and sticky with blood and I felt the second intruder crawl across my tongue and down my esophagus, my stomach wrenching with disgust. I heard footsteps outside the door now, felt relieved, knew I would throw myself at Morgan and beg him to take me to the emergency room, to pump my stomach, to bring in an exorcist, to call in the Air Force to bomb this whole town into radioactive dust and bury it under sixty feet of concrete.

And then, calm.

Almost zen.

Officer Freeman stepped through the door and stopped cold at the sight of me. I climbed awkwardly to my feet with my hand over my cheek as he glanced me over. He had two red plastic gasoline cans with him.

He’s gonna burn this place down.

And he’s gonna burn me with it.

He set the cans at his feet and lit another cigarette, likely because he hadn’t been able to finish his last one when the reporter – who he must’ve finally gotten to screw off – interrupted him. He smoked in silence for a moment, squinting past me like I wasn’t even there.

“So,” I began slowly, grimacing as the movement pulled at the hole in my face. “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here.”

He shook his head. “Same as everybody. You’re trying to figure out what’s going on. I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing with these here gas cans.”

“I think I know.”

His gaze landed on the blood dripping from my jaw and trailing down my wrist, and he reached into his pocket to retrieve a handkerchief. I took it timidly and pressed it into place, stifling a noise of pain.

“Thank you. I, uh, fell. On a... drill.”

He didn’t acknowledge my lame excuse and picked up one gas can to screw off the cap, then started splashing the thick, rancid liquid around the living room. I watched him for a second before taking a tentative step toward the door. In a blur of movement, Morgan whirled, whipping his hand out. A revolver was now aimed right at my face.

“You leavin’ already?” I quickly shook my head. “Good. Help me.”

“I’ll, uh... I’ll be glad to. But first I want you to tell me what happened to John.”

“I figured he was with you.”

“Me? Didn’t he, you know, die?”

“Sure did. He was in the interrogation room and Mike Dunlow says to him, ‘look, we got dead or missing kids here so you’re gonna stay in this room until I’m satisfied or you die of old age.’ Your boy, when he hears that, he falls over dead. Just like that.”

“Yeah... that sounds like John.”

“And now he’s gone. Hospital says his bed is empty and there’s no sign of him anywhere.”

I carefully picked up the other gas can and Morgan put his gun away. My shoulders relaxed ever so slightly and I began to soak the couch, eyes flicking over to the cop every few seconds to make sure he wasn’t going to try and catch me by surprise. Gasoline dripped from the wallpaper around me, squished in the carpet at our feet, permeating the air. I eyed a half inch of ash that was hanging from the cop’s cigarette, watched apprehensively as it fell onto the floor.

It went out with a soft hiss.

He opened a closet and doused the contents inside and I half-heartedly splashed a few more things before I went down and tossed the half-full can into one of the bedrooms. The survival part of my brain was scrambling for a plan to get the cop’s gun or at least get it away from him, but in my current clarity of mind I understood the certainty of it all. Morgan was going to shoot me and leave me here, no matter what I did. I was just waiting for it now. It was an odd feeling.

The man moved over to the door, blocking my exit, and gestured to his gas can which seemed to be almost empty. “Pick it up and toss it out the door, into the yard.”

I hesitated. He put his gun on me again and I did as I was told, and he pulled out his lighter once more to ignite it. The gasoline fumes burned at my nose now and I was getting lightheaded, a bit unsteady on my feet. Man, I was tired. I hadn’t even slept the night before and then there’d been all this shit to deal with.

“Y’know, everybody’s gotta ghost story,” Morgan said out of nowhere. “Or something of the sort. And nobody thinks it’s real because they figure no one else saw what they did, but everybody’s got their story. Everybody.”

He gazed into the flame at his hand, like he was mesmerized by it. His gun was pointed downward and with a soft click his thumb pulled back the hammer, as if on its own.

“Now what I think,” he muttered to his lighter. “I think all that stuff is both real and not real at the same time. And I think the people who see it and the people who don’t are both right. They’re just like two different radios, switched to different stations. And I think somehow, through some chemistry or magic or voodoo, that faux Jamaican guy opened the door into Hell itself. He became the door.”

I nodded, opened my mouth to say something, then closed it again.

“And me,” he continued, stare hardening. “I intend to close it.”

He raised his gun, and shot me in the heart.

[emmataylordesign-blog]

Future Forward Designers

 1. Iris Van Herpen

‘’Iris van Herpen is a Dutch fashion designer who is widely recognised as one of fashion’s most talented and forward-thinking creators who continuously pushes the boundaries of fashion design. Since her first show in 2007 van Herpen has been preoccupied with inventing new forms and methods of sartorial expression by combining the most traditional and the most radical materials and garment construction methods into her unique aesthetic vision. Van Herpen is often hailed as a pioneer in utilising 3D printing as a garment construction technique, and as an innovator who is comfortable with using technology as one of the guiding principles in her work because of its sculptural nature and unfamiliar form. The designer’s intent is to blend the past and the future into a distinct version of the present by fusing technology and traditional Couture craftsmanship.’‘

‘’Within my work I search for symbiotic relationships; looking at the hidden beauty at the intersection of precision and chaos, art and science, the artificial and the organic, that are blending into infinite hybrids.   I am seduced and obsessed by the behavior and the misbehavior between the body and her architecture, her shelter. It’s the interaction between the two that fascinates me, that challenges me to think beyond todays definitions of a garment.’’  

Van Herpens’ deigns and techniques have innovated the way that technology can help to create a structured and wearable garment that also used materials that create the sense of a free flowing form  

2) Rick Owens (S/S18)

‘’Owens called his collection “brutalist lace and confection and meringue”. This was his glimmer of active optimism in a time when everyone else is closing their eyes. “During periods of discomfort, what do we think, that we’re going to find a solution? Discomfort is part of the human condition. Discomfort is part of the cycle of life,” he said. There was a haunting quality to the garments he showed. As protective as those big shapes were, there was something dishevelled about the way they wrapped around the sculpturally enhanced bodies of Owens’s models like bandaged wounds. “Sometimes discomfort can get out of hand and we have to do something to suppress it a little bit, but it’s never ever going to go away. So that’s kind of the beauty and the horror of human living,” he said. “I’m a realist, I think, because I was talking about stoicism, which is actually a form of fatalism.”

3) Afterhomework (FW19)

‘’The very young Pierre Kaczmarek and Elena Mottola – Afterhomework – propose again a fresh collection based on the best of the urban culture of our time. A bet faithful to the androgynous and unisex style of the firm, where undoubtedly the great protagonist has been the wrinkled fabric that was repeated in many garments in this collection. Something that we saw in the previous SS19 collection and that has become a sign of identity for Afterwork.

The tailoring once again shone through its treatment along with fabrics that connected us with the future and a totally timeless palette of colours. The collaborations were also present, this time: Converse – deconstructed – and an alliance with KWAY.’’

4) Marni (FW19) 

‘’Neuroerotik, the title of the collection, alludes to the fact that women’s lives are governed by two forces: the promise of the brain to imagine beyond what is known, and the insistent impulse of hormones and chromosomes, which push us towards sensual experiences that our brains do not want to understand. It is rational versus irrational, but with a deliciously perverted and optimistic twist. The moment you see a hand as if it were a nipple the possibilities become infinite.Francesco Risso, Marni‘s creative director, has offered us a collection that is quite different from what we’re used to. A proposal in which the forms were cut without much care to be later reinterpreted, the pleated skirts were wrinkled asymmetrically, the coats connected to the shoulder, the dresses formed by a mosaic of silks, draped, pleated and an endless number of forms that emanated the essence of Marni but turned them into something completely new.

The best pieces were those that contained contradictions: the chunky dresses with a tie that played at being a scarf on the neck, the long retro numbers in charmeuse with their elegant folds or the pixelated polka dots dresses. As for the color palette, they clashed with each other: black, white, orange and pink. This was not an easy collection that bet on the usual, there was a dark side that took over everything. But at the same time there was also something touching and unfathomably chic about Risso’s neurotic and erotic vision.’’

5) Kim Jones collaboration with Nike 

‘’Jones’s Nike collab is similarly high-minded when it comes to design. “I was inspired by the idea of DIY [during the punk era of the ’70s and ’80s]—cutting up and putting things back together—to create something new,” Jones said via a press release. That means athletic shirts with panels striping down the sleeves and across the waist, and track jackets that appear similarly stitched together. There’s also a recurring smiley face formed by a Swoosh below two stripes, which is nice. Jones’s shoe, the Air Max 360, follows the same thread of deconstruction that inspired the collection. The shoe takes component parts from the Dior designer’s favorite shoes—the Footscape, the Vandal, and the Air Max 97—and turns them into an attractive high-top Frankenstein.’’

bibliography:

1. (https://www.irisvanherpen.com/haute-couture) (https://www.irisvanherpen.com/about) 

2. (https://www.vogue.co.uk/shows/spring-summer-2018-ready-to-wear/rick-owens/collection)  CHRISTIAN MADSEN. A ( 28 Sep 2017)

3.  (https://highxtar.com/afterhomework-fw19-the-future-of-french-fashion/?lang=en) TENOR. M  (26 Feb, 2019)

4. (https://highxtar.com/marni-fw19-removing-internal-censorship/?lang=en) HIGHXTAR | (25 Feb, 2019)

5. (https://www.vogue.co.uk/article/kim-jones-nike-collaboration-2018) PITHERS. E (1st June, 2018)

[bluebird167]

The Sinners and Their Saints Chapter 2: Unlikely Pairs Part 3

Meanwhile sonewhere in Maine Connie Maheswaran, an attractive fifteen year old girl with long black hair kept in a pony tail, dark skin, a slender body, and strong hazel eyes was hiding in the shadows. She was a vampire slayer and much like Frida her personality didn't really fit her position.

Most vampire slayers showed no fear, were ready to face any danger or challenge, and were bursting with confidence. Connie didn't exactly fit that description. She grew up in a sheltered home constantly being watched over by her parents leading her to be a very shy, have very little self esteem, and was very frightened of vampires and other creatures like that. But she was destined to fight vampires. You see vampire slayers are born with the ability to hunt, track, and fight vampires kind of like how some people are born with a sixth sense. Connie discovered her gift at an early age and when she told her parents that she wanted to slay vampires naturally they disapproved so she ran away from home and joined an organization that trained vampire hunters.

Tonight was her first time on patrol. It was a dark and cool night in maine, she stood hiding in an alleyway wearing a white t-shirt, a short sleeved, orange button up jacket with a collar, shorts, and ankle fold brown boots.

She also wore a belt that contained garlic, wooden stakes, and sunlight lamps. Working with her on the case were Lars and Ronaldo. They were a higher level of vampire hunters and they objected of her being on their team but Solomon Van Helsing the head of the organization insisted that she was ready.

"Don't mess up okay rookie?" Lars said. "And try not to scream and run away."

"Hey I maybe a little timid but I'm not a coward." Connie argued.

"Hey I got a lock on the radar." Ronaldo said. "There's a lot of blood shed downtown."

"Okay let's move." Lars said.

Following the signal they found a group of people being attacked by three vampires.

"Blood suckers at 9:00." Ronaldo said.

"Okay guys you know the drill! Go! Go!" Lars said.

They ran out firing wooden stakes and garlic at the vampires while flashing sun lamps. They shrieked and turned to ash once the stakes punctured their hearts and the light shined on them.

"One of them is getting away!" Ronaldo pointed toward the one running into the alleyway.

"I got him!" Connie declared.

"Connie come back here!" Lars ordered.

But she was already hot on his trail. She chased after him into probably the darkest alley ever. Soon she found herself completely alone in the dark. She knew all too well this was when vampires usually struck so she kept her guard up but she was shaking like a leaf the whole time. Suddenly she felt a hand grabbed her throat and pinned her against a wall.

"What a pretty neck you have." Hissed the voice of the one holding her. "I bet your blood will be awfully sweet."

"No! Please don't!" She choked. "I'm begging you! Don't!"

He opened his mouth exposing his fangs and prepared to bite her neck when something dropped down from the skies and jerked him off of her. She feel to her knees, coughing and gasping for air. Once she was able to breathe easily she saw two figures fighting. One she recognized as the vampire who attacked her while the other was a very strong and large person. She quickly pulled her sun lantern from her belt and turned it on. When the light hit the two of them, the one who attacked her turned to ash but the other one didn't yet she saw that he was very pale, had red eyes, and fangs like any other vampire she had seen.

"Are you alright Miss?" Her savior asked.

It took her a few minutes to speak as she still needed to catch her breath. Finally she stood up and held up some garlic on her belt.

"Who...Who are you?" She asked.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He said. "I swear I just want to make sure that you're okay."

"Are you a vampire?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what are you?"

"I'm half vampire half human meaning sunlight won't effect me but a wooden stake and garlic will."

"Do you drink blood?"

"Not human blood. I can but I won't so I drink animal blood instead."

"Why? Why don't you drink human blood?"

"I think it's cruel and inhumane."

"You're not like the other vampires."

"Well as I said I am half human."

"Why is that-"

"Freeze!" Lars shouted holding up a gun to shoot wooden stakes.

"No wait don't shoot!" Connie protested.

"Connie get out of the way!"

"No Lars wait!"

The being tried to fly away but Ronaldo shot a net made with ropes that had been soaked in garlic at him. It caught him and the ropes burned his skin greatly so he couldn't break free. Lars pulled out a stake and prepared to stabbed him when Connie jumped in the way.

"Stop!" Connie shouted.

"Move aside!"

"Lars you're making a mistake!"

"He's a vampire!"

"He's not like the others! Look!" She shined her sun lantern on him. "See? It doesn't kill him!"

"Must be some trick."

"Lars he saved my life! Please!"

"Hmmm...Maybe we should take him back to the order." Ronaldo suggested. "Have Solomon take a look at him to see if he's okay."

Solomon Van Helsing was the only living descendant of famous vampire hunter Abraham Van Helsing and he had followed in his ancestor's footsteps by hunting and killing vampires not to mention it was why he started the Van Helsing Order. He was quite surprised by what Connie and the others told him.

"So you're saying sunlight won't kill him?" Solomon asked them.

"Yes sir." Lars said.

"And he saved a human from another vampire?"

"Yes." Connie said.

"How odd? Perhaps it's a trick."

"He told me that he doesn't drink human blood." Connie said. "And he told me that he was half human."

"How can a vampire be half human?" Lars said. "That's impossible."

"Actually it's not." Solomon said. "A vampire can be half human. In some cases if a human is bitten by a vampire but never drinks human blood they're still half human but in other cases if a vampire and a human were to have a child it would be half human."

"Have a child? Vampires can reproduce?"

"Vampires usually see no need in having children since they are immortal so it's rare but not unheard of."

"So is he a threat?" Ronaldo asked.

"Not sure. A half human vampire can go both ways either good or evil. I'll have to examine him, see if he craves human blood."

They had the half vampire in a cell with garlic around the gates. Solomon filled a bottle with a pint of his blood and left it in the cell. The prisoner sniffed the bottle but then threw it away. For hours Solomon watched and waited to see if he would drink it but he wouldn't even lick a single drop of it.

"Why won't you drink it?" Solomon asked. "I can tell by your eyes that you're thirsting for it."

"It's human blood. I don't drink that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's disgusting and evil."

"You really are half human aren't you. Were you born half vampire or cursed by a bite."

"Born. My mother was a vampire but my father was human."

"I never thought a vampire woman would bear a half human child."

"My mother wasn't like all vampires, she never liked to drink human blood either."

"Why?"

"Because she loved a human."

"A vampire loving a human that much?"

"You think that kind of love is impossible?"

"No. Dracula himself loved a human woman once but not enough to where he would give up taking the lives of innocent mortals. Tell me is your mother still alive?

"No. She died the day I was born apparently giving birth to a half human child was too much."

"I have seen many half human vampires but your the first I've seen to actually be the offspring of the two rather than just a human who's been bitten."

"Can I please have something else to drink? I think I'm about to dehydrate."

"Alright. I'll have a gallon of pig's blood brought to you from the slaughter house."

"Thank you."

"Connie!" He called.

"Yes sir." She said.

"Keep an eye on him, I'll be back."

"Yes sir."

He left while Connie just stood there looking at her savior.

"So I'm Connie." She introduced. "What's your name?"

"Steven." He said. "Steven Universe."