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octoberautumnbox · 5 months ago

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Orange-Tinted Sunset

Kiss of Life Belle & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: fluff, smut, angst, mentions of alcohol n bein drunk, technically not cheating but also sorta close enough idk u be the :jujj:

Word count: 2.6k

a/n: another prompt fic! based on kiof's Nothing i swear im on hiatus lmao but here it is! thanks to @mintwithchoco for prompt and hosting! as well as @sinswithpleasure for beta and @0cta9on for saying i was good at everything so i crode strove to prove em wrong lmao

~~~

The nightclub spun around you, the alcohol clouding your thinking and doubling your vision. A strange feeling set in–you really were a guppy in a small pond. Whatever roaring applause you got from the crowd after that impromptu karaoke bout was nothing compared to the girl that came next. You can’t even work up the energy to be mad; her voice is the single most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard, flowing through the air and filling up every silence in the world, and it doesn’t help one bit that everyone else thought so too.

Her name, just her name. You wouldn't mind going home with nothing to show for the whole weekend as long as you knew what she was called–you have to know. Against every single ounce of common sense you have left, you walk up to her, calling in every favor from the universe you’ve saved up until this point. “H-hey,” you stumble, clearly more nervous than you should be.

She turns around, and as her hair settles onto her back, she replies, “Oh, hi. Can I help you?” Her smile lights up your world, and you gain confidence and lose it again just as quickly. She’s gorgeous too, and how could you live with yourself if you fucked up with a girl like this again?

And you realize you’re staring. “Hi,” you start again, “sorry, I, uhh, you killed it up there. Best I've heard in a while.” Pardon yourself for the understatement; she was exceptional. Stop yourself from saying more; she’s probably already heard everything you want to tell her.

All she does is giggle in response, and you swear you’re face-to-face with a goddess. You slip, so just fall deeper and remember to blame the alcohol later on, “I mean it. You’re like nothing I’ve heard before. Can I ask for your name?”

Her face sours almost imperceptibly, but your nerves don’t let you miss it. She holds back a grimace, but ultimately, she replies, “It’s Belle. Sorry, is that all? I have to go soon.” She shifts in her chair, no doubt trying to escape the situation, and it dawns on you you might look worse than you feel.

“Y-yeah, that’s all. I actually wanted to buy you a drink, maybe. One musician to another. You were amazing.” Your voice holds together for the most part, but it doesn’t change her demeanor.

“Thank you, it’s just…” she hesitates, breathing deep, “whatever this is, I don’t want to get involved. You’re nice, but I just… I can’t handle anything else right now.” The discomfort leaves her features as a quiet sadness replaces it. You’re no expert, but even a dunce like you could tell she was tired more than anything else.

“No worries, I respect it. I’ll leave you alone.” It’s strange how you feel the lightheadedness drifting away and your senses coming back, almost like you’ve saved up quite a bit of good karma to ground yourself like this. Debatable, but you still have enough sense in you to offer, “Here’s my number, no hard feelings if you throw it away. I at least wanna buy you some nachos tonight as thanks for that gorgeous song. Good night, Belle,” before paying for them and ultimately heading for the door, above all trying in vain to forget about her.

~~~

It’s familiar in two ways, being hungover at noon, sitting in a restaurant too fancy for what you’d ever typically be found dead in. On one hand, it reminds you of one of the best days of your life–your beloved sat across from you in a simple floral sundress while you shared a brunch of French toast and orange juice.

“Thanks for coming out,” Belle said in a tiny voice, “I'm sorry about last night. I want to get to know you better.” She offers you a pancake, and once you accept she deposits it onto your plate, followed by a just-right helping of maple syrup.

You try to avoid sounding humble, but there’s no other way to put it. “There's not much to know, really. I just came here on a whim. Needed to get away from it all, broaden my horizons. Us singers just gotta, you know? If I didn't, I'd never have found you.”

“I hear you. I'm here to take a step back too. Things became too much to handle recently,” she relates as she takes careful bites of her cereal. For the first time since last night, you see each other's eyes, and a kindred spirit in you pulls on your heartstrings. It's an unspoken pain that's anything but obvious, and yet you see it in each other as clear as day.

“Fucking exes, right?” the pair of you say in unison. A hearty laugh escapes both of you, and afterwards the pancakes slide down a bit easier.

Belle calms herself first, “So you get how I was last night. I'm sorry, none of it was your fault.” You offer her a napkin and pour her another cup of ginseng tea, which she sips with an ethereal sort of grace once she finishes talking.

“Of course. I'm sorry too,” you sigh, picking at your scrambled eggs, “but at least we're recovering. I'm actually itching to write a new song once my hangover clears.”

“Me too, it’s just so freeing to let my feelings out onto songs. Plus all it costs is a pen and paper–much cheaper than therapy,” she agrees.

On the other hand…

~~~

“Blue palm trees?” she giggles. “What does that mean?”

The waves lap idly at your feet, scattering sand over your toes and hers. The calming ocean breeze washes over the both of you and weakly ruffles the paper she easily holds.

“It's called a hook, Belle. It captures the audience's attention, you should know this shit” you jab, drawing out more of her laughter. “Just let me be, okay? I'm the one with the pencil.”

She settles again, “Okay, okay, fine,” and sits back up straight. Another wave washes the sand away from the tops of your feet, dragging them back to the depths of the sea. In a split-second of feeling the grains slide off your skin and away with the water, you feel deep inside that maybe it'll be easier to walk again.

“You know,” she starts gently, “this isn't too bad. I came here determined to grow stronger, but I don't feel any different–just more of what I was before. And weirdly…” Belle pauses, taking a short glance at you, meeting your eyes.

You can't help it; she's just that beautiful. The orange-tinted sunset behind her offers her a halo of warmth and sincerity, and it captivates your whole being to be able to spend a moment like this again, when the world is just right, especially with her. The waterline reaches up to your soles once more, tickling the both of you and sprinkling new grains between your toes before drawing back and taking the old away.

“... Weirdly,” you continue for her, “I'm okay with that.” Your eyes never leave hers, and she stays, too. It takes a moment of serenity for you to finally let yourself think that this might be something more, that maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world to stay with a girl like her.

It takes a moment of serenity for you, but it seems like forever in an instant. Memories rush back like the ocean soaks the shoreline, swapping old sand with new, but you could never, can never, tell the difference. It's the same grains washing your feet, slipping between your toes, embedding themselves in your life so well that random moments like this bring you to the past when you least expect it. It reminds you of a history you'd give anything to forget: walking on a beach like this with a girl you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with–to an extent, you still do. How could you fuck up with a girl like that?

~~~

It's the worst gamble the both of you could take, and deep inside you knew there was no winning this. You felt it in your bones, from the beach to the elevator up until before you burst through her door with her, but the feeling is gone now, and for sure it’s gone for her too.

“Mmm, just like that,” she whispers straight into your ear. You swear you’ve never tasted anything as sweet as the sweat on her neck, so much so that you never want your lips to leave her. She pulls you closer as if she could, maybe only decreasingly aware that her back was up against the wall and that even grains of sand couldn’t breathe in the space between you two.

It takes no time at all, and you find yourself laid back and vulnerable on her mattress. Belle towers over you, straddling to keep you in place, as if you’d go anywhere. In a flash her shirt leaves her, then her shorts, and finally her underwear haphazardly thrown to the floor. Your own clothes follow even less ceremoniously, letting nothing get in the way of the woman of your dreams.

“Fuck, that’s good…” she says as she lowers herself onto your length. You relish in the feeling of sliding into her, pushing her walls apart all the while lewd confessions spill from her lips. Your hands find her hips and you grip her tight, guiding her up and down as she bounces on your cock, “You’re so fucking tight, Belle…” while she places her hands on your chest to support herself as she takes you inside her over and over again, “I can’t get enough of you… I need you so bad…” losing yourself in her love.

It’s the simplest thing to grab her wrists like this, to throw her onto the bed and fuck her yourself. She hits the mattress with a quiet thud, and without even a moment of respite you force everything into her again.

“Gnnhhh, shit, it’s so good, you’re so good…” she gasps and grunts with every thrust like it knocks the air out of her each time. The bed creaks under the two of you: she tries to pull you close again, so you indulge her and meet her where she is to kiss. Amidst your tongues dancing in each other’s mouths, she moans like her life depends on it, “Yes, yes, oh my god, yes–”

It’s the easiest thing to get lost in a girl like her. She’s perfect in every way you can think of–a smile to die for, a heart to protect, a body to worship. Each moment you bottom out in her, a spark goes off between your lips and hers, and it only pulls you in deeper, pulls you away farther from where you are. There’s nothing else to think about when you’re with a girl like this except her name and the way her body feels on yours. It’s so dreadfully incessant, unceasing in your head, that you thank your lucky stars you’re able to hold back most of your moans: Yuna, Yuna, Yuna, “Yuna…”

~~~

The sun blazes through the window and straight onto your eyelids, jolting you awake. The bed creaks as you bounce slightly on the mattress, your mind rushing to find your bearings, when right beside you, Belle stirs but then promptly falls back asleep.

A grave sense of guilt overtakes you, clawing from the pit of your stomach all the way up to the back of your throat. There's nothing to say to her, nothing to do, and you know it. How could you fuck up with a girl like this?

Your phone's alarm rings on a far-off table. Rush over to it, careful but quick so Belle doesn't wake. You knock over an ottoman in the process, but you're able to turn it off in time. Then it hits you: your flight leaves in a couple hours. There's no more time to think–gather your clothes and rush back to your own hotel.

“Hour and a half,” you think, “more than enough time to repack and go.” Your door crashes open and you heave your suitcase onto the bed, haphazardly throwing everything you own back into it. The zipper disagrees with you for a moment until you finally bend it to your will, albeit threatening its life in the process.

The cabbie drives as fast as he can legally go for you, apparently already knowing the protocol, and people and buildings whizz past in a giant blur. He drops you off soon enough, and with only minutes to spare and the gate calling you over the intercom, you board your plane. The cold of the seat comforts you and calms your nerves, and once the hurried energy leaves your body, all that's left is fatigue that demands to be addressed.

You scarcely notice the window beside you beyond pulling it shut. The cushions aren't as comfy as your bedding from the night before, but you can't attempt to complain in a state like this. You don't even feel your train of thought slipping away…

~~~

You’ve put it off long enough, the anxiety rending the lining of your stomach. In between your own calls and texts to Yuna you find yourself on the receiving end of the restlessness of your endlessly repeating ringtone and text notifications. You wait another few seconds to make sure she’s done, even tossing your phone onto your old bed to fetch a glass of water, before picking it back up and seeing the same number of messages. It's time.

hey, where'd you go? Belle, 8:46 AM

it's a nice song, I'll send it over in a bit. call me? Belle, 8:50 AM

I'm at the restaurant again lol come on over Belle, 9:02 AM

you're really gonna make me miss you huh? hahaha Belle, 9:33 AM

*2 missed calls*

this isn't funny. pick up Belle, 10:14 AM

*2 missed calls*

you're serious? so last night was nothing to you? Belle, 11:15 AM

*1 missed call*

wow, what a fucking piece of shit you are Belle, 11:17 AM

*4 missed calls*

is it something i said? Belle, 2:46 PM

let's just talk Belle, 3:30 PM

*2 missed calls*

just tell me what I did wrong please, I told you I can't handle this Belle, 3:37 PM

*8 missed calls*

don't do this to me Belle, 5:47 PM

*1 missed call*

fine asshole i don’t need you and fuck your song. Belle, 7:15 PM

don’t ever call me. Belle, 8:40 PM

The screen dims under your command. Your phone flies off into the folds of your bed once more, granting you your last moment of control. Belle finally stopped, and Yuna never made herself heard. At least one of you moved on.

You stand in your cold, empty bedroom, in the same dingy apartment you tried leaving behind. The same torn-up pages are scattered across the floor, the same stains on the carpet are there to step around, the same picture framed flipped down to hide the old photograph inside like grains of sand getting swept back up to you no matter how hard you try washing them away.

“It's another bottle tonight,” you decide in no time at all. Pull a cold one from the fridge, ignore the other bottles strewn across the room, take a seat at your desk. The lamp buzzes to life, and another sheet finds itself under your pen.

They never meet.

~~~

#kpop smut #kpop fluff #kpop angst #girl group smut #girl group fluff #girl group angst #kiss of life smut #kiss of life fluff #kiss of life angst #kiof smut #kiof fluff #kiof angst #kiof belle #kiss of life belle #i forgot to consider the tags when i wrote this #fic box

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wandurlvst · 6 months ago

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camping the night

the drover x gn!reader

notes: so guys like WHY ISNT THERE ANY FAN FICS ABOUT THE DROVER??? I SEARCHED BOTH AO3 AND TUMBLR IM SO MAD. i feel like thanos “fine. i’ll do it myself 🗿” type shit. i'm also writing this while im watching the jimmy kimmel interview with hugh and ryan- you can tell im obsessed

warnings: the scene of him bathing only i’m gonna rewrite it sorta?, the sexual tension omfg, hugh jackman (he’s a warning in and of itself in the good way) im not even going to try to attempt to use over the top australian slang since i am NOT australian myself and i do not want to get anything wrong

“aight, let’s rest up here for the night.” the drover said as you two approached a large tree. it was a frequent spot to stop at on long trips like these to the city.

you followed him, leaving the small group of cattle to graze the little amounts of grass that was around. hopping off your own horse, you hitched him on the tree.

“let’s see about starting a fire- wake up early tomorrow to get a head start.” the drover unpacked his things. you had been accustomed to this life ever since you were a child. your father—joined the war, died. your mother, gotten sick from TB, died. so, this life adopted you instead of the other way round.

luckily, you met the drover at the local bar. who helped you pick your life up and start new—start fresh. he saw your skills on horseback- knew how to herd cattle from your father before he went off to war. you had many skills, as one does, but droving was your strongest.

“hey.” he snapped his fingers in front of your face, which brought you out of your thoughts. “quit horsin’ around. start collecting firewood yeah?" he ordered. "alright- quit your shouting." you protested, "i don't want to hear it, just get to work."

time passed and night fell quickly. you two spent the night chatting, sharing a meal and everything in between. you always enjoyed the moments you and him had together--small or big. from then on, your feelings for him only grew. which wasn't a surprise. he was caring in his own way- always looked out for the people around him.

you were in your own thoughts watching the cattle--making sure they don't wander off. leaning against the tree while sitting on the floor, barely keeping awake.

you yawned, turning back to the camp to check on drover--you found him bathing. this usually doesn't happen. you've seen him shirtless countless times but nothing like this.

you quickly looked away--leaning back against the large tree. thinking to yourself and processing the sight before you. from what you saw at the sudden glance--he was lathered in the soap, chest to hips. you couldn't help yourself and peeked again, this time you watched each and every little detail.

he picked up a bucket of water he filled earlier--tipping it over his head and letting it pour over his body. you couldn't look away this time. it was like you were forced to watch every second and you didn't mind at all. you barely noticed the heavy breathing coming from your mouth.

the drover turned around but before he could see you taking a peek you returned to your position sitting against the tree. then, footsteps started approaching you, “oh crikey…” you sighed.

the drover was leaning against the tree using his arm, he looked down at you. “you rest, i’ll watch em” he said in a low voice. you looked up and was greeted by his dripping wet frame.

the water soaked the top of his pants, you watched as droplets were still trickling down his chest and over his abs. you were in your own world and you didn’t hear anything he said.

but of course, he noticed. “oi. what’s wrong- ya burnin up?” kneeling down, he held his hand to your forehead—likely because he saw how red you turned in the face. he was so close you could barely function properly.

“i- uh-“ stuttering only escaped your mouth, you needed space. the mere proximity of him overwhelms you. “no- i’m just…” you stood up and he did the same. you were face to face with him again—your plan to distance yourself for air was futile.

you felt his breath on your face, his own body heat adding to your own. “i’m just tired.” avoiding his eye contact, he held your chin, gently forcing you to look at him. “i’m sure it’s more than that.” he said softly, he placed his hands on your exposed arms, the drover felt how the rest of your body was affected by him.

“need a bath of your own to cool down, hm?”

#hugh jackman #the drover australia #the drover #australia 2008 #the drover x reader #gender neutral reader #x reader #the drover 2008 #ONCE CHANCE HUGH PLS #IM TWEAKING #GUYS PUT ME DOWN

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zunckerz · 7 months ago

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possessed, evil, malicious and effed up hattie and dipper….and mabel and bow :3

sorry for not being too active, haven’t been doing well mental health wise these past few months. and my anxiety often flares up quite badly when I’m on here, but luckily I’m finally getting the help I’ve needed for years. I’ll try my best to post more, no promises though ^^;… instagram’s shitty AI scrapping policy might make me post more art on here, but we’ll see! I’m planning on posting more AHiT doodles and such that I’ve been holding off on doing because I felt embarrassed to but dammit I love those goobers and wanna share em! thanks for everyone who’s still stuck around and supported me and my content, it really means a lot 💙💙💙

#unun art #a hat in time #ahit #ahit hat kid #hat kid ahit #ahit bow kid #bow kid ahit #mabel pines #dipper pines #bill cipher #ahit snatcher #snatcher ahit #artists on tumblr #illustrators on tumblr #latino artist

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hana-no-seiiki · 8 months ago

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STILL INTO YOU

yandere batfam x cat villain! reader (+extra!!)

synopsis: moments wherein the batfam n co. realize that after all this time they’re still into you

status: unedited.

[AUTHOR’S NOTE:] Super sorry for the lack of fics everyone!! Lately I found out that my DID symptoms have gotten worse and that I’ve experienced a full blackout (and possibly more, I just have no memory of it). So I’ve just been trying to recuperate my mental health for a while with art related stuff. Which, on the positive side of things, means that I’ll be releasing a Webtoon (pilot) around this July!! Hope to see you guys there during the release!!

Can’t count the years on one hand

That we’ve been together

I need the other one to hold you.

Make you feel, make you feel better.

You never realized how much Bruce knew you until you two sat down and had a meal together. Why? You might ask. Well, you were supposed to have a dinner date with Tim today at the manor, but he was unfortunately caught up on a case. You were about to cancel it, maybe cause some chaos in town and then chill with Jason as revenge for your bestie bailing — but Tim insisted you hung out with his father instead.

The pair knew it was the only way for you to (A) Behave and (B) not sleep with Jason for the nth time that week.

Gazing at all your favorite foods displayed upon the excessively extravagant and expensive table you realized that aside from the second youngest, Bruce knew you the most out of everyone in the Batfamily by virtue of his contingencies and overall time as the Batman while you were training to be Catwoman’s successor.

It was so odd, seeing him so calm and not so hostile when you were around. Eerie.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hm?”

“I always saw you as a threat. Treated you like one. But you were just a kid stuck in a situation you didn’t have a hand on. I’m truly sorry. For treating you that way.”

“. . . Isn’t it your job? No hard feelings really. I’d be creeped out if you treated me so nicely — not the food though this is very much welcomed.” You ranted as you stuck a fork into your steak, pointing it at Bruce’s face. Yet, as much as how you were failing to achieve proper etiquette he didn’t seem annoyed more so . . . surprised?

“I hope to see you have dinner here again next week.” His hands stretched to awkwardly pat your head.

“Depends, will I have more of Alfred’s steak again?”

It's not a walk in the park

To love each other.

But when our fingers interlock,

Can't deny, can't deny you're worth it.

Koriand’r wasn’t an idiot. She knew about Dick’s lingering feelings for you.

Perhaps she may be. Considering the fact that she still tried to be in a relationship with him even then.

“Shit. Kitty? Kitty! Wake up you hear me?!”

“. . . I’m. . .” You coughed, groaning at the pain it triggered all throughout your body “ . . . here . .”

You raised your hand, too weak to reach his face you settled with holding his own. Dick squeezed your intertwined hands with a pained expression , and an intimacy unfamiliar to the alien.

But that wasn’t what made Koriand’r finally understand how hopeless their relationship was.

It was the fear in his face. His pretty features morphed into one of horror.

Ah, even after all this time. Dick couldn’t live without you.

Cause after all this time I’m still into you.

I should be over all the butterflies

But i'm into you (I'm in to you)

And baby even on our worst nights

I'm into you (I'm into you)

Let em wonder how we got this far

Cause I don't really need to wonder at all

Yeah after all this time

I'm still into you

Jason spent many, many grueling years under the influence of the LoA. And not once did his body forget the feeling of you.

The butterflies, the heart wrenching pain of being apart from you, and the fleeting, venomous hatred you two shared.

After all, it was your name that escaped his lips the moment he awoke from the dead. Your face the first on his mind. Your voice that he longed to hear again.

He had plenty of time to prepare for this moment. Months? Maybe even years.

“Hey, cool helmet. You a Deadpool fan or . . ?”

But even then, your appearance still made him more nervous than confronting his family once more. More nervous than fighting the villain that ended his life.

“Yikes, awful cut you got there. Need me to patch you up buddy?”

You had grown. He had too, even if it was through some magic, deus ex machina water. Seeing the change in your features, how you shed your youthful look of naïvete and grew into a beautiful/handsome/pretty specimen almost made him break all his plans just to be with you again.

“I know that you’re shy and all but I need words.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here til the vigilantes show up.”

For his revenge’s sake he hopes that you’ll stay for longer.

Recount the night that I first

Met your mother

And on the drive back to my house

I told you that, I told you that I loved ya.

You felt the weight of the world

Fall off your shoulder

And to your favorite song

We sang along to the start of forever

It was one of those nights when you intruded on the Batfam’s nightly patrols. This time your victim was Damian. And strangely, no one else. He explained that the rest were taking a break.

Leaving out the fact that he poisoned them with some self engineered laxatives.

It was relatively calm until a heist suddenly started in one of the banks you wanted to pick off. Damn.

“Hey, I didn’t know you listened to [Favorite Artist(s)]” You eyes widened at the sound of the music playing the background as Joker’s men began to surround you and Robin.

“Just a casual listener. How did you meet my mother anyhow?” Damian sheathed his katana. Opting to take down his foes by hand to hand combat as he peeled his eyes and ears to listen to you.

Besides he could see that your eyes weren’t on him anyways, so there was no point in showing off.

. . . Not that he was doing that.

“Huh? Well, I know everyone really.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

He sighed, bashing a poor guy’s face with his knees, his hands adding force with a pull — yikes. “I don’t know why I bother with you.”

“She hated me at first. Courtesy of Cat Woman and the Bat being together.” You turned to him, and he ducks.

“Then I lost someone really, really important to me. More than anything in this world. More than this world itself.” Your whip meets a goon behind him. Both of you hear a splat sound as the man falls to the floor. “And while everyone was calling me insane, when everything was breaking down around me. She was the only one who didn’t judge me for . . . the things that I did.”

“She supported me and was there for me no matter what.” You gaze at the blood on your weapon and cringe. “And then I realized your dad was an absolute bastard for leaving her behind. So I took up the mask again and made it my mission to make his life miserable."

"Even after the dinner?"

"Especially. Wanna bet on how long til he snaps?"

"Deal."

And after all this time I’m still into you.

I should be over all the butterflies

But i'm into you (I'm in to you)

And baby even on our worst nights

I'm into you (I'm into you)

Let em wonder how we got this far

Cause I don't really need to wonder at all

Yeah after all this time

I'm still into you

Some things just,

Some things just make sense

And one of those is you and I

Some things just,

Some things just make sense

And even after all this time

Tim honestly didn’t think he had it as bad as his brothers. Sure, he watched your every move and had extensive digital libraries on everything about you, but he did that for everyone. He was more rational; a man that clung unto his senses.

No it wasn’t his actions that made him realize how dangerously important you were to him, it was the way he felt doing so.

After an excessively arduous mission, the first thing he does as he gets back home is to open up his devices and get back to work. Surprise surprise, the stress wouldn’t go away. Not even when he stopped to play some games or catch up on Dungeon Meshi’s last episodes. And that always, always made him relax.

Anxious, his hands subconsciously guide him to that one folder.

Click Click

Dozens if not hundreds of holographic photos, videos and even fan art of you surrounded him.

Tim stares at a video he took when he first found out your identity.

Curling up into a ball with a blanket surrounding him, he slowly drifts off to sleep. Your voice lulling him into his overdue journey to dreamland.

Yeah, he was more rational than the rest. Yet, some things just made sense. Like you being the only thing in this world that manages to make his heart race and anxieties run away.

I'm into You

Baby not a day goes by that

I'm not into you

Jon was a bit dense. But even then he could see the signs of his best friend slowly losing himself to love and infatuation.

He would have been happy,

if it weren’t for the fact that he had a crush on you first.

Being the sweetheart he is, he backed off, respectful of Damian’s feelings (even if the latter wasn’t of his).

I should be over all the butterflies

But i'm into you (I'm in to you)

“Woah, you guys are done already?” Jon landed. As soon as he heard that he’d be able to fight alongside you after what felt like years (it was a couple of weeks), he flew all the way from Metropolis in record time.

If he knew what awaited him he probably wouldn’t have left at all.

“Yeah.” You gave him a thumbs up. Your head laid atop Damian’s lap as the domino masked vigilante ran his hands through your hair. His gloves off to his side.

“C-Cool.”

Jon cried himself to sleep that night.

Even after knowing of Damian’s feelings all this time, he could never stop his own.

And baby even on our worst nights

I'm into you (I'm into you)

Let em wonder how we got this far

Cause I don't really need to wonder at all

Yeah after all this time

I'm still into you

[ NEXT PART : NOBODY GETS ME ]

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freeabortionslol · 2 months ago

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baking together (a lake house series fic) ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pairings: jack hughes x reader, slight trevor zegras x reader, (cole, luke, & quinn mentioned) summary: reader and jack bake cookies together!! warnings!! FLOUR FIGHT RAHHH a/n: i fear i am edging all the jack lovers with this one. sorry guys!! shocked that barely anyone was team cole on the poll I did?? come on ya'll that man treats her like a princess. happy reading lovers!! wc: 2.4k anon: "for lake house xmas, its pretty obvious but them decorating the tree and baking cookies!! i just know quinn is working his ass for that tree because reader asked only for trevor to fall with it after it's done! also jack is the definition of flour fight while baking cookies!!" anon: "i would love some christmas couple cute content with jackkkkk"

It was pretty much a fact to everyone that you were all snowed in the house together. Trevor and Quinn would argue they could drive, maybe go to the store- but from the looks of it, this was practically a snow storm. The house was quiet for the most part, but a comfortable kind of quiet. Trevor lay on the loveseat, watching tiktoks on his phone for the past hour. Luke was lying on the longer couch, napping with his face completely covered by his hood. The fire was going, faint sounds of christmas music filled the space, but the quiet felt like a long awaited break that you needed so bad. You made your way to the kitchen, wearing one of your aprons Cole had gotten you for secret santa last year, carrying every ingredient you could fit in your hands. Since you couldn’t go anywhere, you decided to take the opportunity to make your famous, christmas sugar cookies.

“Wanna help, Trev?” You asked quietly, splaying the bags of flour and sugar across the countertop.

Trevor yawned, sinking into the couch further. “I think I'm just gonna stay here for a bit. I’ll eat ‘em though.”

“M’kay,” You said, a gentle smile on your face as you pulled bowls and utensils from the drawers. You set everything up on the counter, the warm glow of the kitchen lights mixing with the cozy atmosphere of the fire. The house smelled like pine and cinnamon, and you felt a bit of excitement bubble up as you prepared to bake. Sugar cookies were always a special treat, and you were looking forward to sharing them with everyone. As you began to sift the flour, you glanced over at Trevor. His head lolled to the side, eyes half-closed, but the corners of his mouth twitched up at the mention of the cookies. You knew he’d be the first one to sneak one when they were out of the oven. The kitchen was calm, and you hummed a little tune as you worked, occasionally glancing at the window where the snow continued to fall. The storm was still heavy outside, but it only made the warmth inside feel more inviting. As you kneaded the dough against the flour-covered countertop, you saw a pair of hands rest on either side of yours, a weight falling onto your shoulder.

“Making sweet treats?” Jack asked quietly, his voice vibrating against your shoulder.

You nodded your head, glancing over at him slightly before returning your focus back to the dough. “Mhm,” You hummed. “Wanna help?” Jack's presence was a comforting weight beside you, his fingers gently brushing against your shoulder as he leaned in closer.

He didn't immediately respond, instead watching your hands move as you shaped the dough with careful precision. “What do I have to do?” He said with a grin, his breath warm against your skin.

You shrugged your shoulders, reaching for the roller. “Just…stick the cookie cutters in the dough when I’m done rolling.” Jack pushed off the counter with his hands, his warm presence fading almost immediately.

“Sounds easy enough.” He said, grinning as he leaned back on the counter next to the dough. “Lukey’s passed out.”

You let out a soft laugh, glancing into the living room. “I think he’s already wiped out from this trip.”

Jack chuckled lightly, gazing at you as you rolled the dough flat. “Yeah, he’s just a baby.”

You smiled looking up at Jack for a split second. “But he’s our baby.” Jack hummed in agreement, his eyes still locked on your messily tied up hair. “He’ll get used to it.” You said quietly, sending Jack a wink.

“We’ve been doing this Christmas thing for- what? Three years now?” Jack asked.

You nodded, your gaze fixated on the dough in front of you. “Yeah, since he turned eighteen. When you and Quinn bought this place.”

Jack clicked his tongue, leaning back on the counter with his hands. “And he’s still not used to it.”

You giggled softly, rubbing your face with the back of your hand. “Give him a break. He’s just a baby.”

Jack grinned at your playful tone, but there was a fondness in his eyes as he watched you work. "Right, right. I guess we all have to be patient with him," he said, tapping his fingers lightly against the counter. His voice dropped slightly, a soft undercurrent to it. "But, seriously, it’s nice to have this- just us here, no distractions, no noise. Just...quiet, you know?" You paused for a moment, glancing at him as you rolled the dough. His expression was different than usual, more sincere and reflective, and for a second, you couldn't help but feel the warmth of it. The fire crackled softly behind you, filling the space with its comforting rhythm.

"I know," you said quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. "It’s nice to just...be together. Like this." You finished rolling the dough, laying it flat on the countertop. “You ready for this, playboy?”

Jack scoffed, a playful smirk wiped across his face. “I’m always ready.” You reached for the cookie cutters, eyes flicking to Jack for just a moment, noticing how his posture was relaxed, but his attention unwavering. He stepped closer, his hands brushing lightly against your arm as he took the cutters from you. His fingers gripped them with exaggerated care, almost as if the simple task required absolute concentration. The way he held the tool, steady and deliberate, made you smile to yourself, even though you didn’t say anything. With a soft press, he cut the first shape into the dough. He glanced down at his work for a moment, taking in the slight imperfections, before he moved on to the next one. You watched as he repeated the motion, slightly less precise each time, but still focused, still intent on making the shapes. There was a calm rhythm between the two of you now, each movement synchronized with the other. The dough slowly thinned out under your rolling pin, and Jack’s hands moved quickly to place each freshly cut cookie on the baking sheet. The time seemed to slow, the quiet in the kitchen comfortable, almost meditative. As the last of the cookies were prepared, you placed the dough aside, your hands dusty with flour.

You giggled, looking down at your hands before looking at Jack who was placing the last cookie on the baking sheet. “Hey Jack,” He whipped his head towards you, slightly confused at the smile on your face. Before he could say anything, you took your flour-covered hand and ran your fingers through his hair. He chuckled softly, a mix of amusement and disbelief on his face, his lips curling into a playful grin. His hair, usually perfectly styled, now had a messy dusting of white flour, making him look even more relaxed and carefree.

“It’s on.” He said, biting his bottom lip as he reached his hand into the flour bag.

Your eyes widened in fear as you held your hands out in retaliation “Wait no-” You started, but you were quickly interrupted by Jack throwing a handful of flour all over you. You screamed lightly, one mixing in with laughter. “Jack!”

He widened his eyes, moving his hand to cover his mouth, but he couldn’t help the relentless chuckled escaping. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He said through his laughs. “I didn’t know I grabbed that much!”

“Oh you didn’t know?” You stifled a laugh, trying to put on a stern face, but the smile twitching at your lips betrayed you. “You didn’t know?” You said again, moving closer to the bag of flour.

Jack’s eyes widened as he saw your hand inching toward the flour bag, and for a split second, you could see the playful panic flicker across his face. He took a half-step back, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Wait, wait, I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry!" But it was too late. With a mischievous grin, you grabbed a handful of flour and tossed it straight at him. It hit his chest with a soft puff, leaving a white dusting across his shirt. Jack stood there for a second, shocked, before his mouth curved into a smirk. "Oh, you’re screwed now," he muttered, his voice low with challenge.

He dove straight for the flour bag, scooping another handful into his hands. The two of you stood facing each other, a few moments of suspended tension before, with a swift motion, Jack launched his flour at you. It showered over you like a cloud, and you gasped in surprise, laughing uncontrollably as the powder coated your hair and face. "You’re gonna regret that," you managed to say between giggles, your eyes narrowing playfully.

Jack chuckled, holding his hands up, his grin growing. "I’m just getting started," he teased, shaking flour from his fingers. In the chaos of the flour fight, you both moved around the kitchen, laughing and dodging the soft puffs of powder flying through the air. You reached for the flour again, tossing it in his direction, and he retaliated with an exaggerated lunge, both of you covered in flour by now, but neither of you seemed to care. The two of you circled around the kitchen, throwing flour with reckless abandon. It didn’t matter that the kitchen was a disaster now, with flour scattered across the counters, the floor, and both of you. The storm outside seemed distant and insignificant as you both created your own chaos inside, surrounded by the warmth and comfort of the house. You watched as Jack took the entire bag of flour in his hand, moving it behind him on the counter top as he stood in front of it like a guard dog. He reached into the bag, grabbing a ridiculous amount of flour into his hand.

“No, no!” You said giggling, turning to run in the opposite direction as you had no ammo. Jack quickly ran behind you, picking you up by your waist with his free arm. You squealed in surprise as Jack hoisted you up, your feet dangling off the ground. "Jack, no!" you laughed, wriggling in his arms as he spun you around. He held you effortlessly, a playful grin spreading across his face, his eyes full of mischief.

"I warned you," he teased, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled you closer. You felt the warmth of his chest against yours, but it only added to the chaos of the flour fight. He raised his hand, loaded with flour, and you couldn't help but giggle as he prepared to aim.

"No, no, no!" you yelled, your laughter mixing with the words, but Jack was quick. With one swift motion, he tossed the entire handful of flour directly at you. The cloud of white powder exploded around you, covering you from head to toe. You gasped, blinking through the mess, but you couldn’t help but laugh even harder. “You...you’re dead!” you managed to say between fits of laughter, still stuck in his grasp. Your hair was coated in flour, your face a complete mess, and you could see Jack’s shirt was covered too.

“Am I, though?” Jack raised an eyebrow, not missing a beat. He leaned in closer, his expression playful but teasing. "I think you might be the one in trouble." Jack grinned, giving you a little spin before setting you back down. Now you faced each other, both of you covered in flour as the giggles quickly subsided. Jack’s eyes gleamed with something other than the adrenaline or humor of the flour fight, something much deeper. For a brief moment, everything around you seemed to fade into the background. The flour-covered chaos, the laughter, the warmth of the kitchen- everything blurred except for the way Jack was looking at you. His eyes weren't just playful anymore. There was a depth in them, something that made your heart skip a beat as you stood there, covered in flour, your breath still quick from the laughter and the chase. His grin softened, and for a second, you could feel the shift in the air between you. The playful tension that had filled the space now felt different, heavier, more intimate. Jack’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes tracing the outline of your face as if he was seeing you in a new light. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but he paused, lips slightly parted, as if he was unsure of the next words. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were, the lingering heat from the oven mixing with the warmth that now seemed to surround the two of you. Your breath caught in your throat, and for the first time in the whole flour fight, you didn’t know what to say.

“Jack…” You started, your voice a little softer than you’d intended, and he blinked, breaking the intense moment but not quite letting the tension go.

“Yeah?” he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant, as if he, too, was unsure of how to break the silence that had settled around you. His eyes were still on yours, that same depth in them, but now there was something else, something unspoken but felt. You took a half-step forward, unsure whether to bridge the distance or pull back, the moment teetering on the edge of something else, something more. Jack didn’t move away. Instead, he stepped a little closer, his body now only inches away from yours. His fingers, still dusted with flour, brushed lightly against your arm, and the contact sent a wave of warmth through you. His eyes flickered to your lips, and for a second, it felt like he was deciding whether to close the gap between you two. You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears, could feel the heat of the moment rush through you, and the anticipation in the air was almost electric.

Before either of you could speak, the sound of Trevor’s voice broke the moment. "Alright, what's taking so long in there? Are the cookies done yet?" The sudden interruption made you both step back, the tension dissipating, but it didn’t completely fade. As Jack turned toward the baking sheet, his expression a little less certain than before, you both knew that something had shifted between you in that one fleeting moment.

“Uh…” You called out to Trevor, yet your eyes fixated on Jack as he moved the cookies to the oven. “W-We’re putting them in the oven right now.”

#freeabortionslol #lake house groupchat #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #trevor zegras #jh86

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f1ora1f1owerswrites · 2 months ago

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at the heart of it all

Summary: you’re Jake’s date to a family wedding, where every moment highlights the quiet love the two of you share.

Word Count: 544.

Warnings: established relationship, no use of y/n, fluff (duh).

***

The warm buzz of laughter and music filled the backyard, lights strung across the trees casting a soft glow over the wedding party. Jake stood next to you, his hand resting on the small of your back, a grounding weight amidst the cheerful chaos.

“You okay?” he murmured, leaning down so his voice reached only you.

You nodded, the corner of your mouth tugging into a smile. “I’m good.”

Jake’s green eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he grinned. “You’re lying,” he teased lightly, his tone affectionate. “C’mon, darlin’, they’re my family. You’ve met them countless times. They’re harmless.”

“Harmless? The same people who’ve already shared six embarrassing stories about you?” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

Jake chuckled, the deep sound making your chest feel tight. “Okay, fair. But if they get too rowdy, just let me know and I’ll throw ‘em off the dance floor.”

You laughed, leaning into him slightly, the warmth of his presence calming your nerves. Jake pressed a quick kiss to your temple before stepping back to adjust his tie.

“Here,” you said, reaching up. “Let me.”

He stilled as your fingers deftly straightened the knot, his eyes fixed on your face with an expression so soft. “What would I do without you?” he asked, his voice low and sincere.

“Probably show up looking like a mess,” you teased, patting his chest once the tie was in place.

Jake’s smirk returned. “Good thing I’ve got you then.”

***

The reception was in full swing by the time Jake guided you back to your seats, a plate of food in his hands. “Here,” he said, placing it in front of you. “You haven’t eaten anything all night yet.”

“Jake, I-”

“No arguments,” he interrupted, shooting you a playful look. “I know how you get when you’re nervous, and I’m not letting you faint somewhere like this.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that crept onto your face. “Thanks.”

“Always,” he replied, brushing his fingers against yours as he handed you a fork.

***

Later, as the two of you stood with a group of Jake’s cousins, he kept a steady hand on your back, his thumb tracing small circles that only you seemed to notice. When someone directed a question your way, Jake gave you a subtle, gentle nudge, his eyes meeting yours with an encouraging warmth.

You took a breath and began to answer the question, and Jake’s expression melted into something tender. Even in a crowd, he had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room.

***

As the night wound down, you found yourselves swaying together on the dance floor. Jake’s arms were wrapped around you, holding you close as the music slowed.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he said, voice soft against your ear.

“Thanks for inviting me,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder.

Jake’s hand slid up to cup your cheek, tilting your face toward his. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m not letting go.”

Your lips met in a kiss that felt like a promise, a reminder of the love that had brought you here–to this moment, this new second family, this life you were building together.

***

A/N: i had soooo much fun writing this, i feel like i’ve enjoyed writing the meet-cutes but wanted to give a more “established” relationship a try! i hope you liked it!!

#florawrites #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin #hangman seresin #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader

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cheeseatlantic · 6 days ago

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A HOME IN YOU

The rain drums softly against the roof, a steady rhythm that fills the quiet spaces between your breaths. Beyond the fogged-up window, the countryside is cloaked in darkness, the rolling hills barely visible beneath the storm clouds. The world feels smaller at this hour, wrapped in the gentle hush of rainfall and the occasional distant rumble of thunder. It’s the kind of night that makes you want to stay close, to sink into warmth and let the world outside fade away.

You’re both curled up in bed, the thick comforter pulled up to your waists. The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, casting golden light against the wooden walls. Simon is beside you, lying on his back, one arm draped over his stomach while the other lazily traces patterns on your arm. His touch is absentminded, slow and deliberate, like he’s grounding himself in the feeling of you.

Neither of you have spoken for a while, just listening to the rain, but there’s something about nights like this that invite honesty—the kind that only comes when the world is quiet and the weight of the past feels a little lighter.

Simon exhales, deep and slow, before breaking the silence. “Never thought I’d have this,” he murmurs, voice rough from sleep but laced with something deeper.

You tilt your head to look at him, your cheek still pressed against his chest. “Have what?”

“This.” He gestures vaguely with his free hand, like the answer is obvious. “A home. Peace. You.” His fingers curl around yours, tracing slow circles over your knuckles. “Never thought I’d make it long enough to have somethin’ like this.”

Your chest tightens at his words—not out of sadness, but because of how deeply you understand. Simon’s life had been built on war, on loss, on survival. He had spent years as Ghost, a man who existed only in the shadows, never truly belonging anywhere. And yet, here he was. Here with you.

“You deserve this, y’know,” you say softly, intertwining your fingers with his. “You always did.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Dunno ‘bout that.”

You shift closer, pressing your lips to his shoulder. “I do.”

Simon doesn’t argue, but his silence says enough. He still struggles to believe it—to believe that after everything, he’s allowed to have something good. But he’s trying. And that’s enough.

The rain picks up, a steady downpour now, the kind that makes the air feel cooler, the blankets warmer. You sigh against him, tracing light patterns over his chest, your fingers brushing over the scars that map his skin. You’ve memorized every one of them, know the stories behind most of them, but you never push for the ones he isn’t ready to share.

After a while, he speaks again, his voice quieter this time. “Used to think I was better off alone.”

Your brows furrow. “Why?”

“Didn’t want anyone gettin’ too close. Didn’t want ‘em to see… all the things I’ve done.” He pauses, swallowing hard. “Didn’t want ‘em to leave.”

Your heart aches at the raw honesty in his voice. “I’m not leaving, Simon.”

His fingers tighten around yours, just slightly. “I know.” A beat of silence. “Still scares me, sometimes.”

You lift your head then, meeting his gaze. His eyes are softer in the dim light, the usual sharpness dulled by sleep and the quiet vulnerability of the moment. You reach up, brushing a hand over his jaw, your thumb tracing along the stubble there.

“I’m here,” you whisper. “I’ll always be here.”

Simon exhales slowly, like he’s letting the weight of your words settle into his bones. Then, with a quiet sigh, he turns onto his side, pulling you with him so you’re tucked against his chest. His arms wrap around you fully now, holding you in a way that feels protective, like he never wants to let go.

You listen to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the warmth of his body against yours, the rhythmic patter of rain against the window. You feel the way he relaxes against you, the tension leaving his muscles, his breathing slowing as sleep starts to pull him under.

For years, Simon never thought he’d have this—never thought he’d get to fall asleep in the arms of someone who loves him, in a home that is his, with nothing but the sound of rain and the steady beat of another heart beside him.

But now, he does. And for the first time in his life, he’s finally at peace.

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tojipie · 1 year ago

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How does toji feel about halloween in general??

read this and immediately pictured our man leading both his kids up someone’s doorstep like “hey make sure you grab an almond joy for me :/” and “my back hurts >:(“ I LOVE HIMMMSNCHDJS

dilf!toji but there’s passing mentions of him working in an auto shop so maybe mechanic!toji ? who knows. no warnings for this one !

────────────────────────

toji always found halloween a little childish. holidays were a very rare occurrence growing up, so celebrating anything besides a paycheck or his latest divorce didn’t strike a chord in him.

he usually spent the 31st of every october begrudgingly taking his kids around the block for candy he could’ve bought for them himself. he’d stand to the side, still clad in his work clothes as the two of them eagerly held out their candy bags—pillowcases from his bed that he’d grabbed last minute.

sometimes an elderly woman would greet them at the door, eagerly handing his two mini-me’s a box of raisins or a handful of cough drops. he’d quickly usher them off the doorstep with a polite thank you, silencing their whines with a “shhh, i know, i know, just give em’ to me i’ll eat em’ at some point.”

sometimes a guy his age would open the door instead, sharing a knowing look with toji, a little nod of the head even simply to say “yeah, i’d rather be drinking a beer right now too.”

and sometimes—rarely— toji gets the chance to talk his game at a pretty lady. he knows he looks good, even with flecks of motor oil staining the front of his sweatshirt and faded jeans. that much is proven about 0.8 seconds into the interaction when the girl he’s eyeing rushes to put more candy in his kids’ bags, shooting him a bashful smile.

you’re different though, toji knows that as soon as you look up to address him.

“where’s your costume?” you tease, eyeing the older man as you hold a bowl of chocolate out for megumi and tsumuki.

he stands there for a couple of seconds, dumbfounded as you wait for an answer.

“… what?”

“where’s your costume, it’s halloween.”

a fit of giggles erupt from the children in front of you at your inquiry.

toji frowns, then laughs quietly, climbing up the steps to look down at you.

“where’s yours?” he states plainly, cocking his head to the side as his kids bound down your steps and settle in the grass.

“i’m not the one trick-or-treating here.” you state plainly, looking up at him with a confident smile.

toji leans against your doorway, still towering over you with that sleazy grin. “huh, guess you aren’t.” he admits, reaching for his phone with one hand and pulling up the “add new contact” page.

you laugh as he slips the device into your hand, typing your name and number in a bit too eagerly.

“and what was that for?” you ask, feeling the heat from his torso engulf your hand as you slip the phone into his sweatshirt pocket.

toji pushes off of the doorway, “so we can talk about our costumes a little more at my place.”

your knees practically buckle at the invitation, nonchalant facade melting off your body and into the pavement with ever step he takes down your driveway.

the two kids bound over to their father as he makes his way towards them, hugging each of his legs as pats their backs quietly.

“is she gonna be another lady you do kissing with?” megumi asks, balancing his little body atop his father’s impossibly solid work boots.

“hey, quiet.” toji laughs, scooping the younger boy onto his hip and taking tsumiki’s little hand in his.

#adah’s asks #fushiguro toji #toji #jjk toji #zenin toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x reader fluff #dilf toji #dilf!toji #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #toji fluff #toji headcanons #toji hcs #toji hc #toji x fem reader #toji x fem reader fluff

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ashipiko · 10 months ago

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—NIKO CIMARRON

All information on Niko Cimarron ATM! Will most likely be updated ☆

—MORE UNDER CUT

BASIC INFORMATION:

Class: 2-A

Birthday: October 24

Height: 176cm

Dominant Hand: Right

From: Land of Pyroxene / Shaftlands

Club: Film Studies (visits on occasion, inactive member)

Favorite Subject: Magic Analysis

Best Subject: Animal Languages

Likes: Making a profit

Dislikes: Getting outsmarted

Favorite Food: Berries / Berry flavored things

Least Favorite Food: Anything too hot

Specialty: Balancing on the line of lie and truth

GALLERY:

VOICE CLAIM:

YUU’S INTERVIEW:

— Scarabia Dorms - Niko’s Room —

for easier reading, all yuu dialogue will be in italics and all niko dialogue will be in a normal black font instead of green.

There you are. Surprised you came to visit me, Carrots.

> You know what I’m here for, Niko.

> Why are you surprised?

No need to act like that. Interview, right? Or should I say an interrogation? If you wanted to hang out with me, you didn’t need to hide around the bush, you know…

It’s cute seeing you all dodgy, but still. ♡

> I think it matches your vibe.

> You’re one to talk.

Yeah, yeah. How many questions do we have planned for today? Don’t take too long, now. I’ve gotta start pumping out those treats for my profit.

…Oh. No need to worry about a pen and paper, I’ve got one for you.

> I didn’t expect for you to be so prepared.

> (…They’re cuter than expected.)

Something something about matching the vibes… They’re modeled after an old movie about cops and so, interrogating. Figured you’d like them. A carrot for Carrots. It’s cute.

It’s about time to start though, huh?

> Yeah.

> No more wasting time.

INTERVIEW: START!

1. Can we get some basic info about you from… you?

A second year Scarabia student who’s a fox beastman. I guess I’m what you’d call a charmer, thief of the heart, man of your dreams… I’ve heard it all. But the real name’s Niko. Niko Cimarron. My surname means “Wild”, so you could call me Mr. Wild if you like that too. Heh, actually, it’s a business thing, so I guess you’d only call me that if you bought my products… Say, Carrots, you feeling like you need a snack? I have some lefties if you’d like.

> No thanks.

> Why not?

They’re tasty, I prommie~.

2. Speaking of which, what are your “pawpsicles” made from? How do you make them?

Those little things? Why, I’ll let you know I put my blood, sweat, and tears in those treats. Makes me happy to see other people happy, like the faces on a thaumark. To make ‘em, it’s just some tasty berries from the school grounds that get mushed up to get juice, where they go into a mold and freeze up. It’s hard work! I’ve gotta walk so many steps around the school and all across campus… You’re lucky you never saw me in my first year. Took me a while to get used to the schedule… Though, I’m a well-organized man now, I’ll have you know. It’s good for the public image.

3. You’re from the Shaftlands, aren’t you? Do you have any connections to Vil, Cater, or Jack?

Connections? I have them with everyone, really… though I don’t think those three are really aware I came from the same place as them. To be fair, the Shaftlands is a pretty big area. People even go as far to call it a utopia.

If anything, I’ve talked to Diamond more at NRC than anywhere in the Shaftlands. Is that because I never even saw him once? Maybe. So I can’t say about back then, but I can enjoy a good conversation with him now. He’s a good customer and a good influencer. Back then, he got me a good chunk of costumers off of a Magicam post, so I’ve got to give it to him. Who knew people could just follow trendy things at the drop of a hat? Crazy, right?

Vil is a major celebrity, and Jack, I didn’t even know existed ‘till this year. I’ve got nothing to say about Mr. Hardhead, but I’ve had my fair share of talks with Vil. When we were kids, I got a wave from him once… It was great bragging rights. Heh, he kinda freaks me out now though. The reason why I don’t actually participate in club activities. He’s probably too high of a standard for a lowlife like me, so it’s not something that bothers me anyway.

4. You don’t seem to have a Unique Magic. Any reason why?

Ah. Magic? A little bit of a sour topic for me, Carrots, ow… I’m just a late bloomer, is all. I’ve got magic in me, but I never played around with it when I was younger, so I’m way more rusty than all of the other guys here. It doesn’t mean I don’t know the brain stuff, though. Just inexperienced.

If I’m being dead honest, it’s kind of a miracle how I got into NRC. I guess they wanted the fox vote, huh? Heh.

5. Not sure if I’ve seen you around a lot with one particular person. Is there a secret someone?

Secret someone? Getting jealous, are you? Haha, I would’ve never taken you to be the type!

> Not the focus of the question.

> That’s not…!

It’s your fault for wording it like that. You’ve got to watch your words, Carrots. Well, the business life is a cold one, isn’t it? Being around a bunch of highschool guys isn’t really the “ideal” grounds for making business partners either, so it is what it is. At least this way, I get all the profits, so I don’t mind. If you want, I can save a spot for you by my side. ♡

> Again, no thanks.

> Maybe after I get a break from all the things this school brings.

Keep me in mind~.

6. Our last question. You say a lot of random stuff. People get annoyed with it pretty often. How do you feel about that?

…? Oh, you picked up on it, huh? Heh, I mean… I guess I could come clean. I think it’s interesting you haven’t walked away from me yet, y’know. Usually people aren’t into this stuff.

> You are annoying, but…

> (Would it be mean to say something?)

I appreciate you, Carrots. A little too much than I’d like.

Usually people don’t really like the stereotypical foxiness I bring to the table. They run away because I’m either something they don’t wanna get mixed up with, or just something they don’t like. I think you’re a weirdo who’s looking for entertainment when you come into my room and talk to me like this.

…But I guess that just means that you like the way I talk to you, right? You can’t get enough? Is that what’s happening here? ♡

> For a second, I thought you were going to need some comfort, but I guess not.

> Really, it’s fine, Niko…

Don’t pretend like your cheeks aren’t a little red. I like the reactions I get out of you. ♡

Is that all you wanted? Yeah? Alright, we’re done here, then. Hand me the pen, would ya?

> It was nice being able to talk to you like this.

> (That was a quick turnaround.)

…Yeah. Hurry on up, shouldn’t you be studying up on actual things worth studying? Live up to that Smarty McSmart Pants title. Bye-bye now~.

INTERVIEW: END!

> (I feel like Niko’s more than meets the eye.)

> (I feel like Niko’s… hiding something.)

TRIVIA:

Niko is twisted off of Nick Wilde from Zootopia!

Niko is actually magicless. Not entirely, as he does have some running in his blood, so he didn’t lie, but it’s not enough where he can successfully conjure spells. Because of this, at NRC, he often has to get by with con-artist type excuses and acts. It works most of the time, as he has Crowley’s support. For now, he’s getting by with the excuse of being a late bloomer, but I’m sure suspicions are beginning to rise… Perhaps, if it were to be found out that he’s unable to conjure spells, he would be kicked out of NRC.

He made it to NRC after being dared to attempt to con his way in by his magicless best friend. His name is not noted, but he’s a very angry and violent French fennec fox. Niko is often bullied by him.

He can be considered a fan of Vil.

Niko enjoys the pop genre a lot, but is embarrassed to admit it.

Despite being a playboy, Niko is easily flustered at the thought of someone seriously making moves on him.

Niko can also count as a bit of a heartbreaker. For the romantics around the school, everyone knows Niko as that kid who’ll charm you for a week and leave you heartbroken when he inevitability rejects you. It’s not anything against anybody, really, but more so the fact that Niko can’t ever imagine dating someone before he tells them his secret. It feels unfair to him. But people take offense to it nonetheless, the heartbroken people usually cutting Niko off as soon as they figure out that there won’t be anything working between them.

Because of the way some people leave him as soon as they sense no romance, Niko finds the concept of love to be sort of flaky. It takes a while for him to develop a crush, despite his flighty, flirty attitude.

Due to being a class 2-A student, Niko often ends up selling his treats most often there. Kalim and Silver are his number one customers, as Kalim buys bundles of them to give to Scarabia members, and Silver buys them for Lilia to enjoy.

Niko attends the Playful Land event and ends up staying in contact with Fellow Honest afterwards. This relationship ends up contributing a lot to Niko’s development.

Even though he doesn’t want to, he feels obligated to play into the deceitful foxiness of himself, because that’s what people naturally expect of him. It stops them from getting curious about him, as it seems like they’ve already got him figured out.

He says things that are considered shallow, like flirting or bargaining because he wants to get a reaction out of people. Niko does small things like this for small reactions — enough of these small reactions will fulfill the same satisfaction of seeing someone he loves flustered or happy, he thinks. In truth, he knows it won’t amount to much. Niko tries to satisfy himself enough so that he won’t need the real thing.

Niko feels very guilty for deceiving everyone at NRC, especially the prefect. Even still, he doesn’t have the heart to tell them that he truly doesn’t belong here, taking up a spot possibly for somebody who deserves it much more.

Niko’s way of thinking suggests that if he acts distasteful enough, it will cause people to stray far away from him. He believes that he really is just a lowlife fox, but the truth of his actions is something he think people would hate him for most; living in a lie. Because of this, he acts like a playboy and an annoyance in attempts to get people to stay away, preventing them from finding out the even uglier truth of him.

Additionally, he’s afraid to have the truth leak out because he doesn’t want to leave NRC. Though he doesn’t have much, he doesn’t want to lose the little bit he does have, and the little bits he keeps on gaining.

Even still, Niko craves for someone who will take time to understand him. Which is why he’s so attached to the prefect.

More to be added!

^ the pawpsicle icons in this relationship chart represent whether if the character is an avid pawpsicle enjoyer (has the icon), has experienced it once but never had it again (once!), and if they have never had it.

#niko cimarron #ashi’s ocs ♡#twst oc #twst #twst wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twst yuu #UHH. UHHHH. TAGS #UHHHHHHHH #yeah I got nothing #I HOPE YOU ENJOY MY WIDDLE FOXY BOY

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kumkaniudaku · 4 months ago

Text

Stay A While (4)

Summary: A storm in Shelby Springs threatens to take away everything Terry loves.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4,131

Part: 4 of 5

Warnings: Mentions of violence.

Chapters: One. Two. Three

The past was a funny thing.

In an instant, all of the promise and joy of tomorrow could be snatched away, ruined by the sins of yesterday no matter how deep they were buried in the Earth.

When Terry limped away from Shelby Springs just before the heat of Summer could settle into the air, he expected to be gone for good. He’d taken his bruises like a man and cut his losses, never to speak of the horror he’d experienced at the brink of death. Horrors that flashed through his mind as he sat with his back aching in a wooden chair at Summer McBride’s kitchen table.

Soft humming by the stove kept him tethered to reality though the present conversation had long turned into background murmurs. Summer sat opposite him, smart tablet in hand, as she scrolled through documents and videos sorted in a digital folder labeled evidence.

“They didn’t delete every video. The especially heinous ones, they kept on a separate drive for blackmail if they didn’t get what they wanted. Mike’s in here.” No answer. Terry maintained his focus on the wallpaper just past her head, not blinking. “D’you hear me, Terry? Terry?”

Still no answer. Summer peeled her concerned gaze from his face and directed it toward Patrice as she started to step closer. Patrice offered her an apologetic smile and touched Terry’s back to rub slow, soothing circles. He stiffened at her touch before picking a new spot in the room for his undivided attention.

“TJ, if you don’t wanna see the video, we understand. Right, Summer?”

Summer nodded though she disagreed. “Right. But, you gotta know they might show this one in court tomorrow. I’d rather you be prepared now.”

“It’s your call. Say the word and we’ll stop right here.”

Patrice punctuated her statement with a kiss atop Terry’s head before draping her arms over his shoulders.

He sighed and reached across his body for her hand. “How bad is it?”

Once again, Summer looked to Patrice for guidance. A nod gave her permission to tell the truth.

“Not life threatenin’ but…pretty bad.”

“Play it. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

With trepidation, Summer pressed play on the video and slid the tablet across the table.

Terry and Patrice watched the last known footage of Mike as he encountered officers Marston and Lann. What started as a traffic stop with Mike as the passenger devolved into a brutal beating. Each blow to his body felt like a gut punch to Terry as he watched, tears welling up in his waterline.

“Oh my God,” Patrice whispered to herself. “Maybe we should stop right here.”

Terry shook his head and clenched his jaw, his eyes never leaving the screen. “No. Let it finish.”

Watching the beating in its entirety became his self-inflicted punishment. He should’ve been there to protect his baby cousin. The least he could do, in his mind, was experience a fraction of the pain Mike was subjected to, even if it made him sick to his stomach.

The video ended abruptly with no resolution outside of Mike being cuffed and thrown in the back of a cruiser like a wild animal. Patrice gripped Terry a little tighter, nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck just as a tear slid down his cheek. Summer sat across the table with her head bowed in silent prayer.

Sniffling and the rhythmic tick, tick, tick of a wall clock were the only sounds in the room, leaving space for shared grief among the unlikely group of vigilantes.

After some time, Terry swiped at his face to rid himself of the evidence of his sadness and forced out his question in a hoarse voice. “So what’s next? What do I gotta do to make these motherfuckers pay?”

“Just tell your story. The defense is gonna antagonize you. They’ll try to make you confused, get you turned around and caught up in a lie, but you can’t let ‘em. Edwin Carter’s on the prosecution and he owes me a favor so, he’ll handle your prep. He should be here soon if you’re feeling up to it.”

Terry mulled over the thought of rigorous back and forth before looking to Patrice for her opinion. “What you think, Treece?”

“I think that every one of these pieces of shit should rot in hell. If you wanna fight, let’s fight. But as soon as it’s too much, we’ll pack up the truck and go home. No explanation needed. Fuck ‘em. No offense, Summer.”

“Understandable. None taken.”

“Fuck ‘em,” he parroted, chuckling at the sound of his sweet girl cursing like a hardened criminal. He looked at Summer who waited expectantly for an answer as he slid the tablet back to her. “Tell me about Carter. You think he’s in this like we are?”

“I know he is. He’s got a vested interest in seeing Burne and that whole department crumble. Been on his heels for years. This was just the right time to bring the hammer down. He’ll take care of you.”

“Then we’ll take care of him,” Patrice interjected. “You think he’d be down for a hot meal?”

“If he ain’t, I sure as hell am. I haven’t cooked in here in ages.”

“Come grab as much as you’d like. TJ, I’ll make your plate.”

A kiss on the forehead was Patrice’s way of exiting the conversation to busy herself with dinner preparation, leaving Summer and Terry at the table alone. Summer watched him reckon with his decision and cleared her throat for his attention as she stood.

“She’s good for you. Don’t screw it up. Take it from me.”

Don’t screw it up.

The simple sentence sat with Terry through his half-eaten dinner and grueling trial prep with Edwin once he arrived. For hours they meticulously picked through Terry’s story, poking holes to simulate the courtroom and inducing stress to ensure that he was prepared. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His throat burned from repeating the same words over and over and over until they were seared into his brain. He left that house in the middle of nowhere emotionally exhausted and nearly regretting his decision to answer Summer’s call to action.

Terry’s chest had grown tight with anxiety that followed him back to their cramped hotel room on the outskirts of town in what Summer considered a safe zone for him and Patrice.

The amber glow underneath the bathroom door was the only light in the room. It was barely visible as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling listening to the sound of running water while Patrice brushed her teeth. Mike’s video played in his head on a demented loop. Every scream and crack of their fists against his flesh was magnified in the theater of his mind. He was a man tormented with no end in sight.

He didn’t hear when Patrice shut off the water or when she called his name to see if he was awake. He only felt the empty spot beside him dip as she climbed into bed. She cozied up next to him without speaking, throwing her leg across his waist and laying her head on his chest once he’d opened his arm to welcome her presence.

“I thought you were asleep,” she whispered in the dark.

“Not yet. Was waiting on you.”

“That’s sweet.”

His chest rose and fell quickly with his chuckle. The feeling made her smile in the dark though he couldn’t see.

They lay in silence for several minutes, both of them listening to the other breathe as a soundtrack to the night. Patrice felt herself dozing off until Terry’s deep voice cut through the still air.

“I’m scared, Treece.”

She didn’t hesitate to answer. “Yeah? You wanna talk about it.”

“Not really. Can you just…talk? About anything. I need to hear your voice.”

“Of course, baby.” Patrice nestled closer to Terry, earning a tight hug as a wordless thank you for her understanding. “Sometimes I think about the first time we met. I’d heard about you from some of the girls in homeroom, but they made you sound like some random dickhead on the football team. But you were so sweet. And that smile, God that smile. I’d never seen anything like it. I still haven’t.”

“What’d you think about me then?”

Patrice sighed from the sweet memory. “I thought you were special because you were kind and smart even though your friends weren’t. I thought you were too skinny to be so tall, too. You looked like you hadn’t grown into your body yet.”

Terry chuckled. He vividly remembered spending hours in their garage gym each week desperately trying to bulk up so that he could shed the gangly giant image that had followed him from middle to high school.

“What do you think about me now?”

Running her fingers along his arm, Patrice stopped at the gunshot wound on his shoulder. She traced the raised scar before sliding her hand back down to lace her fingers with his.

“I think you’re beautiful inside and out. I think that in every single galaxy, you’re my person. And, even if there’s one where you’re not, I’d still spend my whole life searching for you because your absence would leave me feeling empty inside.”

In the pitch-black room, they searched for each other, desperate to share their affection. Their tongues danced a beautiful waltz together in lockstep. The subtle smack of lips joining and separating raised the hair on the back of Terry’s neck as he fought to restrain himself. Not here. Not now. Not before he had the opportunity to do right by her and make their union official in some grand gesture he hadn’t nailed down the plan for just yet.

He owed her more than rushed sex in a low-rank hotel on the eve of what could be a life-changing moment for them.

Sensing his reluctance, Patrice abandoned her thoughts of straddling his waist and pulled away from the kiss to take a breath. Terry gently rolled them over beneath the sheets to act as the big spoon in their equation.

“I love you. So much,” he whispered in her ear, this time making sure that she heard every syllable.

Patrice lifted her head to look over her shoulder and kissed his bottom lip. “I heard you the first time. I love you. I’ll always love you.”

“Marry me.”

Patrice’s giggle soon turned into full on laughter, prompting Terry to join in despite his simple statement not being intended as a joke. She settled in and began lulling herself to sleep by dragging her finger along the outline of his Bad Brains tattoo that she’d committed to memory.

“One day, maybe.”

Unfortunately, sleep never came for Terry. He spent the entire night listening to the soft snoring Patrice swore didn’t exist and thinking through every scenario for the hours ahead. If they were quick, they could skip town and leave all of this shit behind. Maybe they could settle somewhere like Detroit or Chicago. She’d get a new job as a teacher and he could find work doing anything as long as she was happy. She’d never go for that convoluted plan, but it was a good enough distraction from his reality.

In the morning, when the sun was high and the earthy aroma of a midnight rain had settled over the city, Patrice and Terry stood hand in hand in front of the courthouse with Summer by their side.

It was now or never and, on the last day of testimonies, now was the only option.

Patrice sat with the rest of the spectators beside Summer, her eyes trained on Terry as he fidgeted with his tie on the witness stand. Chief Burne sat beside his attorney with a smug grin plastered on his weathered face. He was convinced that every minute of this trial was a farce. Soon a jury of his peers would find him not guilty of crimes he surely committed and he could get on with the status quo. This wasn’t his first rodeo. The system was made for men like him.

Without a word, the defense attorney stood up and started toward Terry. He pretended to clean his glasses before speaking, adding flare to his one-man show.

“Terrence. Or do you prefer Terry?”

“Terrence, please.”

“Right.” the attorney responded with a curt smile. “Terrence, shall we begin?”

A rhetorical question. There was no way out.

For what felt like an eternity, Terry was subjected to question after question regarding his whereabouts, his training, his motives, and why the twelve people sitting on his left should believe that the Shelby Springs police department was a corrupt organization headed by a man intent on defrauding citizens from here to Atlanta out of their hard-earned money.

Sweat pooled under his arms like the remnants of a monsoon. His heart raced with every thinly veiled accusation. His cuticles were nearly picked raw from his nervous scratching. He felt nauseous, highly irritable, and alone with every face in the room seeming to frown back at him like he was the one on trial for countless atrocities.

In the sea of adversaries, Patrice kept her gaze sympathetic in hopes that he would take her expression as a life raft in a raging storm.

Closing arguments came after a short recess, leaving Chief Burne’s fate and serval victim’s justice in the hands of twelve strangers randomly selected to balance metaphorical scales of guilt and innocence.

The wait was unbearable and energy draining. So much so that he couldn’t find the wherewithal to engage with Patrice over dinner at a local diner while she gushed over the quality of their evening special.

“Getting solid Nashville hot chicken outside of Nashville is like a miracle. We should play the lotto tonight too.” Terry acknowledged her excitement with a quick half smile, barely looking away from the window he was resting against. Patrice persisted. “How’s your food?”

“It’s, uh, it’s good. Solid steak. Potatoes could’ve been cooked longer, I guess.”

“Want me to send it back,” she asked, preparing to flag down the young waitress servicing them for the night.

Terry declined and pushed his food around the plate. “I’m not even hungry. We can box it up for you to eat in the morning.”

“Alright. Well, how’s football going? Anything new?”

“Nope. Teenage boys still smell like sweat and weed 24/7. If they don’t tighten up, they can kiss that dream of a state championship goodbye.”

“That’s why they have you, Drill Sergeant. Whip ‘em into shape.”

“I don’t really have the energy for all that these days.”

Solem silence settled over the pair as Patrice studied his tired, sunken eyes and sagging shoulders. He looked defeated and for good reason. If she could hand him a win on a platter, she’d spare no expense and sacrifice anything to make it happen just to see him smile again.

A quiet sigh escaped past her lips before she rested her fork across her plate. “I’m gonna run to the restroom then we can get out of here, okay?”

He didn’t answer or look her in the eyes to signal that he’d heard anything she said and she didn’t push him despite feeling completely disregarded.

Half of him wanted to chase behind her and drop to his knees in a dramatic apology. Hurting her was never his intention, but the weight of the world was crushing him relentlessly.

Footsteps approaching the table moments later made him take a deep breath in preparation for an apology or paying the bill. The opportunity never came.

Instead, he found himself face to face with Sandy Burne and that devilish grin he’d grown to despise.

“Terry Richmond. We meet again and, somehow, under even worse circumstances. Enjoying your last meal before things get real bad?”

“We can test how bad they can get if you’re feeling ambitious tonight. I got some gas left in the tank from the last time we saw each other.”

Sandy chuckled and widened his stance. “Better save it, son. You’re not too far out of Shelby to avoid consequences and repercussions should things escalate the way they did before.”

“Is that a threat?”

“I never make threats. I write checks that me and my men cash. Ask Mike.”

Terry could feel his heart rate reaching dangerous levels. He wanted to cause physical harm, break limbs, step on throats - anything to inflict pain on an everpresent thorn in his side.

Burne relished the opportunity to make him uncomfortable. He took note of Terry’s fingers curling into a fist against the table as he stared straight ahead. “Ooh, are we upset? We could take things to the parking lot if you’re feeling ambitious.”

Impulse control had faded where the need for violent retribution stepped in. Common sense was out the door. Terry’s eyes darted between the entrance and the small group of men that had formed outside the window awaiting his next move. He sized them up, ranking them from the least to the greatest threat, and made his decision.

He began to move out of the booth.

“Sandy fuckin’ Burne, you peckerwood son of a bitch. To what do we owe the displeasure of seeing your worn out, leathery face up close? Zoo couldn’t hold you?”

Patrice stepped closer, her tone deceivingly jovial though she meant every word as a targeted insult.

Sandy took a step back to let her pass as she headed back to her seat across from Terry. He scoffed at the idea that she could speak to him with no regard for his position in society.

“I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Oh, God no! I don’t frolic with terrorists or walk in lockstep with the wicked. You’re a God-fearing man, right?”

“I am.”

“Good. You should be. Because your time is coming, Sandy Burne. I’m sure of it.”

“What are you trying to say?”

Patrice looked him up and down, her eyes briefly stopping at the light right spot around his left ring finger where a wedding band presumably once sat. She smiled and flickered her gaze back up to his face screwed in a scowl.

“Nothing your wife hadn’t already said when she left your sorry ass for somebody with a functioning brain and half-decent dick. Kathy was her name, right? I bet she doesn’t even think of you anymore. But she and her lawyer would be glad to hear that you’re carrying around that pistol off duty. It’d be enough to keep you from those sweet girls for good, wouldn’t it?”

Shock came first on Burne’s face. His mouth hung open in clear confusion before he recovered with a steely glare. His hand twitched on the handle of his gun in apparent anger. Terry pulled his bottom lip into his mouth in anticipation of the inevitable. If he moved quickly, he could disarm him, take the beating that was sure to follow, and end up in a holding cell for the weekend to save Patrice from danger.

She, however, wasn’t the least bit concerned. She had dealt with men like Sandy Burne before. And, if she knew his type like she thought he did, he only purported a willingness to utilize real violence to get ahead. In reality, he was a man desperate for power in the most sneaky, backhanded way possible.

She kept a poker face, staring at Sandy with the same force he showed to her until he slowly pulled his hand off his weapon and tapped his fingers on the table.

“When all of this is over and I’m back at my desk, take your gal and get out of my town, son. Don’t come back unless you are personally invited by the mayor himself. And even then think twice. I’ve given you two too many chances. Three times and both of you are out.”

Burne didn’t leave room for additional conversation. He scanned Patrice’s face a final time to commit it to memory just in case she followed through on her thinly veiled promise to expose him to his ex-wife’s divorce attorney. He wanted to capture a mental picture of the executioner committed to destroying his life piece by piece if he made a false move.

A final curt smile was all he left behind before exiting the same way he came and taking his cast of bandits with him. Both Terry and Patrice watched until they were clear of the parking lot and gone into the night to speak.

“Let’s make sure we’re packed and ready to go first thing in the morning. Don’t leave anything up to chance.” Terry instructed, pulling out his wallet to toss enough money on the table to cover the bill and tip. “How did you know that about his wife?”

“Edwin Carter is good people.”

Terry didn’t need further explanation. The less he knew, the better.

What he did need was a morsel of Patrice’s optimism that she tried to share once they returned to their hotel room.

“Look. If things don’t go our way here, I need you to leave without me. Go home, grab as much as you can, then go stay with your parents or my parents. It won’t be safe for you to live alone.”

“Everything will be fine. Get some sleep.”

The conversation came back to him as they filed into the courtroom with the surprising news of a decision. Days of no rest had left him weary and something like a warm zombie with vacant eyes and trembling hands.

According to Edwin, reaching a verdict this soon in a case that was rushed to this degree was unusual. He didn’t know what to make of the timeline. He could only hope for the best.

Apprehensive chatter in the room ceased once the judge stepped out of her chambers and approached the bench. Everyone stood in reverence at the behest of the bailiff before quickly settling in silence.

The judge adjusted in her seat and then addressed the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to remind you that once the verdict is read, there should be no outbursts. Please ensure that you maintain proper courtroom etiquette and remain seated until the jury has exited the room. If we’re all on the same page, has the jury reached a verdict?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” the foreperson answered, standing with the decision in his hand. The judge gestured for him to continue.

Terry gripped Patrice’s hand, unknowingly holding his breath in preparation for the worst. Summer bowed her head again in prayer. Patrice closed her eyes and tilted her head toward heaven.

Count 1: Guilty. Count 2: Guilty. Count 3: Guilty.

Guilty down the line. Each alleged crime culminated in the same result. Justice seemingly served. A criminal enabled by a corrupt system was finally stripped of power and forced to convene with the very people he’d helped put away.

A whirlwind of handcuffs, shouting, and a struggle sent Sandy Burne to his next destination and the trio outside the courthouse onto the steps to celebrate an unexpected triumph.

They exchanged hugs and happy tears until the crowd had cleared and they were the only three left in the area.

Summer extended her hand toward Terry for a shake. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, Terry. I’ll text you something profound every once in a while if that’s okay.”

“Of course. Take care, Summer. Keep me updated on your girl.”

“You got it.” She turned to Patrice who rejected the handshake and pulled her in for a warm embrace. They rocked side to side, squeezing tighter. “I appreciate your help. And your cookin’.”

“Come by the house any time, you hear? There’s always a spot for you at our table.”

One more squeeze was their silent signal to let go and say another goodbye before Terry and Patrice were left standing alone.

Terry looked out into the distance, a smile ghosting at the corner of his full lips. Optimism.

“You ready to get out of here? I think we could get to Atlanta by the evening and stay overnight if we book it.”

“What if we didn’t go home,” he asked. His head turned to get a look at Patrice’s confused expression. She searched his bright eyes for hints at his end goal.

“I’m due back at work in a few days, Terry. Break is almost over.”

“I’ll have you back before then. Let’s celebrate first, though. I know the perfect place. You trust me?”

Patrice took a deep breath and nodded. “You know I do.”

“Good. Then let’s go.”

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo

#terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge #aaron pierre

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