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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

- Chapter 7 -

There was an incident at the Cloud Recesses.

Nie Mingjue offered to go deal with it, and Wen Ruohan was so busy laughing at the sheer absurdity of the idea that he allowed Wen Xu to go in his stead, which was what they had all been hoping for. Nie Huaisang had come up with the idea of the staggered offer; he was surprisingly adept at predicting how Wen Ruohan would behave, which secretly worried Nie Mingjue more than a little.

(The plan did result in a few more ‘walks’, Wen Ruohan being temporarily reminded of Nie Mingjue’s existence, and Nie Huaisang was so upset by that side-effect that he wanted to resign from making any more plans in the future. That wasn’t plausible, of course, given where they lived, but Nie Mingjue would happily suffer a little if it meant that his little brother wouldn’t turn too scheming as a result of his success.)

Wen Xu returned a while later with a letter in his hand and a twitch in his eye that refused to go away for a while. He was of a nervous disposition, whether naturally or because of how he was raised, and his anxiety was only made worse by stress – the Nightless City, unfortunately, being full of stress. Wen Qing said that he used to be cruel and vicious, obtaining relief from his own pain only by hurting others; she said, with a little too much perspicuity given her age, that it was the inevitable result of his having found out long ago that there was no consequence to his actions and, moreover, that his meanness was the only quality of his of which his father seemed to approve. Nie Mingjue hadn’t seen much of that, except maybe for some arrogance in the beginning, but Wen Qing had rolled her eyes at him when he said as much, saying that of course he hadn’t seen it, it’d been different ever since Nie Mingjue showed up.

Why that made a difference, Nie Mingjue had no idea. He hadn’t done anything, or at least he hadn’t done it intentionally.

“What happened?” he asked. “Is –”

“A-Chao is fine, no thanks to Wen Zhuliu,” Wen Xu said, grinding his teeth in a way that would probably hurt his jaw and require copious amounts of Wen Ning’s medicinal soup later to ease the soreness and strain. “We were right about him trying to get A-Chao kicked out of the Cloud Recesses and dependent on him.”

“More brothels?”

“I wish. A-Chao has been refusing to go to them –”

According to the letters Nie Mingjue has seen from both Wen Chao himself and Lan Xichen, his reaction has been to all but burst into tears at the very thought – Wen Xu’s impassioned speech had apparently made a rather large dent in his impressionable psyche. He wouldn’t even risk walking thought a red-light district at night out of concern that he might succumb to some previously unknown predatory instinct and then die horribly as a consequence.

“– so Wen Zhuliu, shall we say, creatively interpreted his refusal into being a fear of disease.”

“I mean, it is a fear of disease,” Wen Qing said dryly. “Disease is how you scared him. With the information from my books, no less.”

“No, you don’t –” Wen Xu waved his hands, looking distressed. More distressed than usual, even. “On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t be talking about this with you lot. You’re all far too young. Mingjue, you understand what I mean?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Nie Mingjue said blankly. “You haven’t even said anything yet.”

“He’s saying that Wen Zhuliu brought A-Chao a girl he could be certain wasn’t diseased,” Nie Huaisang said, his nose wrinkled. “Let me guess, the ‘incident’ in question was A-Chao being accused of rape? Probably someone young?”

“How did you figure that out?” Wen Xu demanded.

“I read a lot of pornography,” Nie Huaisang said. “Some of it involves less savory subjects.”

“Did I know you were reading about less savory subjects?” Nie Mingjue demanded, a little appalled. “Huaisang, everything we said about A-Chao being too young applies to you too, you know –”

“I read it for the art, da-ge. And the insight into what people like when they think other people aren’t looking; it’s surprisingly transferable to the rest of life. Anyway, since you’re here without A-Chao, I take it that he got out of it?”

“When he saw the girl lying in his bed, he remembered all of Mingjue’s scolding,” Wen Xu said. “He immediately ran out to find an adult to assist him. He’d been dosed with something to make him more susceptible - you know what I mean, that sort of thing, but also something to make him dizzy and forgetful, probably so he wouldn’t know for sure if he’d done it or not - but luckily he found a Lan who recognized it.”

“A Lan that knows something about drugs? That’s the most implausible part of everything you’ve said so far.”

Nie Mingjue poked Wen Qing in the forehead for excess cynicism.

“Not only did he know about it, he was able to eliminate the effects while preserving evidence regarding it,” Wen Xu said, sounding begrudgingly impressed. “His testimony of A-Chao’s innocence is rather unimpeachable.”

“What did he do, run to Teacher Lan?” Wen Ning asked, eyes wide. He’d been inexplicably terrified of Lan Qiren ever since they’d met briefly at a discussion conference – apparently Lan Qiren had imparted some wise words and Wen Ning had said something stupid in response, and now he wanted to dig himself into a giant pit any time the man’s name was so much as mentioned.

“Oh no,” Wen Xu said. “That’s the best part of this story, actually. This whole thing happened in the middle of the night, a dark one with barely any moon, and you know how A-Chao is with directions –”

“Tell him something he wants is the next town to the east and he’ll immediately go to the west, south and north before he makes it.”

“He got lost,” Nie Mingjue guessed. “And ended up…where? With who?”

“Qingheng-jun.”

The entire room simultaneously buried their faces in their hands.

“He intruded on Sect Leader Lan’s seclusion,” Nie Huaisang moaned. “The seclusion that’s been going on for nearly twenty years. Because of course he did, that’s our A-Chao for you. Oh, Lan Wangji is going to kill me…”

“You’re still in contact?” Nie Mingjue asked, surprised.

“We exchange letters, it’s no big deal. Tell me more about what happened – did they actually have to get Qingheng-jun to testify?”

“Oh yes, the family made a big stink about it. They wanted to get the girl married in as a concubine or the sect to pay out; they weren’t exactly happy when all the doctors confirmed that she was still pure. They even accused the doctors of being paid off! Lan sect doctors!”

“What did you do with Wen Zhuliu?”

“He claimed he had no idea how it happened. Somehow while also implying that I was being unnecessarily overzealous in A-Chao’s defense, since there’s nothing that unusual about taking a concubine – as if everyone wouldn’t understand it as being all but an outright admission that he was a rapist! I pretended I believed that he wasn’t responsible for the whole thing - he was, of course - and told him that if something like this happened on his watch without his knowledge, he was clearly a piece of shit bodyguard that ought to be replaced.”

“I bet he liked that!”

“I want to learn archery,” Wen Ning said.

“You already know archery,” Nie Mingjue said, ruffling his hair. “You’re very good at archery.”

“Not in public I’m not.” Wen Ning firmed up his jaw. “I want to be good enough at archery that I can win honor for the Wen sect when the main competition is archery.”

“That won’t be until the next time we host,” Wen Xu pointed out. “Which is years from now. You’ll be sixteen – no, seventeen by then.”

“Ancient,” Nie Mingjue, who was about that age himself, said solemnly. “Doddering. Almost decrepit. The only thing worse would be if you were twenty and on your way to twenty-one –”

Wen Xu glared.

“I’m serious,” Wen Ning insisted. “Everyone else has a talent. Why not me?”

“All right, then,” Nie Mingjue said, because mentioning how good a cook of medicinal cuisine Wen Ning was would clearly not be appropriate at this juncture. Lots of boys eventually wanted to learn a martial skill, no matter where their real talents might lie. He might have even said all boys, except of course there was always Nie Huaisang to be the glaring exception to the rule. “We’ll adjust your training regime, invite some specialized tutors…”

Wen Ning was shaking his head. “I want to go to the Jiang sect.”

“What?”

“They always win, don’t they? Maybe they lose out on first place to the Lan sect, with their arm strength, or by some fluke to someone else, but if they have a strong contestant, they win, and even when they don’t win they always place. It’s the best place to go learn.” He shrugged. “Anyway, it’s not like I’m going to get invited to the Cloud Recesses.”

Nie Mingjue had half a dozens protests on his lips, and they all died at once. It was true. Wen Ning would not be invited to study at Gusu, possessing neither an exceptional talent for some facet of learning nor a family willing to push him in. Nie Huaisang would go without question on the basis of Lan Qiren’s former friendship with their father, assuming Wen Ruohan would allow it, and Wen Qing, only interested in the study of medicine, had recently started corresponding with various medicine halls and could maybe get an internship somewhere. She’d been talking recently about Lanling, and though he’d objected to that on the basis of Jin Guangshan, the whole world would welcome a promising doctor.

Only Wen Ning would be trapped here, in the Nightless City.

(With Nie Mingjue, who could not leave, because he wasn’t broken enough yet. Who might not ever be, might live and die without ever being allowed out any further than a closely supervised night hunt, like a bird in a cage.)

Nie Mingjue didn’t especially like the idea of staying here in the Nightless City alone, but his own interests had never been as important as those he could protect. Unlike him, Wen Ning had a future, a life of his own, to look forward to, and so Nie Mingjue looked at Wen Xu. “Do you think…?”

Wen Xu made a face. “I’m not sure,” he said, frowning at Wen Ning in a way that Nie Mingjue knew meant something to Qishan Wen minds because of the way that Wen Ning ducked his head in embarrassment. “They don’t normally take outside students the way that the Lan sect does. I guess we could ask, though, using the way the Lan sect blew up as a cover.”

“They’re readjusting,” Nie Mingjue corrected, trying to be diplomatic. “Qingheng-jun was in seclusion for such a long time – it’s a big change for them for him to come out. For his sons, especially.”

He wished that he could write to Lan Xichen. Not because he had something intelligent to say about it, but more so that he could listen to all the emotions Lan Xichen was undoubtedly trying to suppress – Nie Mingjue couldn’t imagine how he must be feeling. His father, locked away for so long so as to be little more than a myth, suddenly and abruptly brought back to life –

Perhaps it was better that they didn’t write. Given what had happened to Nie Mingjue’s own father, Lan Xichen would probably refrain from saying anything at all.

“In other words, they blew up,” Wen Xu said dryly. “I’ll write to the Jiang sect and make some inquiries, not naming any names. If we get their approval, we can figure out how best to petition Father. He’ll like that angle, though; winning honor…Huaisang came up with that, did he?”

Nie Mingjue was going to protest, but Wen Ning nodded.

“I figured. We’re still going to adjust your schedule, start getting you ready – we need to make it believable.”

“Why does it have to be believable if it’s true?” Nie Mingjue asked, looking from one to the other. “Why would A-Ning do something if he doesn’t want to do it?”

“I do want to do it!” Wen Ning exclaimed, his little face red but determined. “I want to do it really badly, Mingjue-ge. Really.”

“All right, then,” Nie Mingjue said, convinced despite his suspicion that they were up to something – but then, they were always up to something, and he was usually not included.

For very good reason, and at his own request.

“All right,” he said again. “If you want it, then we’ll find a way.”

“Tell me everything you know,” Wen Ruohan murmured. “And it can stop.”

For today, he meant. A fool’s promise, false gold, worthless – meaning nothing.

Nie Mingjue talked anyway.

Wen Chao arrived home from the Cloud Recesses, to everyone’s joy, and even managed, with some hurrying, to make it back a week before Wen Ning was scheduled to set out.

“I brought wine for everyone!” he announced.

“You did not,” Nie Mingjue said sternly, though he wasn’t quite able to stop himself from smiling.

“Okay, okay, I got gifts for everyone. But I also brought wine, if you want some – it’s called Emperor’s Smile, you’ll like it –”

“Forget the wine,” Nie Mingjue said. “You’ve grown!”

He had – at least half a hand’s worth, and his face was starting to show the curves of adulthood, despite the considerable baby fat remaining.

“I’ve grown?” Wen Chao laughed. “Look who’s talking!”

Everyone laughed, even Nie Mingjue, who ducked his head – it wasn’t his fault that he kept on growing. His father had been especially tall, and his mother even more so; it was to be expected!

Admittedly, it wouldn’t hurt to start slowing down a little. Any time now.

“Yes, well, I grow any more and your father will chop me off at the ankles,” he said, shaking his head. Wen Ruohan seemed torn between pleasure at having such a hulking beast tamed at his feet – his words – and irritation that Nie Mingjue would shortly be able to look down at him. “Tell us about your studies, A-Chao. Did you make any friends?”

“Did you pass?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“Of course I passed! And I only cheated once –”

Nie Mingjue covered his eyes and groaned dramatically.

“When I go, I’m going to cheat all the time,” Nie Huaisang announced.

Nie Mingjue aimed for an even more dramatic groan.

“And you probably won’t pass even if you do,” Wen Qing put in.

Now it was Nie Huaisang’s turn to moan. “Has anyone ever told you that your tongue is as sharp and piercing as your needles, A-Qing?”

“No. You want me to demonstrate why?”

“Help! Help! Have mercy!”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wen xu #wen chao #wen ning #wen qing #my fic #my fics #fire and light

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reformedkingsmanagent · 7 years ago

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Hi hi, I was reading one of your post saying you were a sucker for Charlie's beard in TGC and well, an idea came to mind (cuz that beard? Hell yeah). Can I request a prompt where the reader loves having beard burn (on the neck, or inner thighs for a splash of NSFW), I'd love to see what you could make with all this... 👀 thanks love!

AN: This is very long. All I’m going to say is I guess I realllllllllly wanted to write some TGC!Charlie because once I started I just couldn’t stop. Prepare for some smut too. (nsfw)

Prompt: Gloriously-Beardy Charlie

Pairing: Charlie x reader

Word Count: 7165 (haha…yikes)

Warnings: Language, sex, Charlie with a beard (come on, it’s lethal)

Whenever Charlie needed anything, he came to you. You knew the things he requested most frequently, and you usually were able to order it in advance of him asking so he wouldn’t have to wait for it. Most people would just say you were very good at your job, which you were, but you had a special interest in Charlie. You frequently daydreamed about the bionic man, wondering what it would be like for him to pay attention to you. Sure, he talked to you whenever there was time, but he was always so busy with Poppy’s errands that you didn’t see him as much as you would like.

You were personally responsible for his current beard, and he didn’t have a clue. Well, at this point he probably did, but does it matter? Supposedly, you had been unable to receive the exact razor he liked, but you should be getting them “any day now” which wasn’t true at all. You could have ordered them anytime you wanted, but you hadn’t. You loved his beard, it suited him incredibly well. You would do anything to prevent its disappearance. Well, maybe not anything, but it was steadily becoming your favorite feature of his. Sometimes you caught yourself wondering what it would feel like brushing against the inside of your thighs and you’d have to scold yourself. You knew he was starting to catch on. It was inevitable, you just hoped he didn’t get angry with you. You didn’t think he was the type, but you didn’t really know him that well.

It was hard to get things here in Cambodia. For the crew stationed at Poppyland, getting anything themselves meant they would have to traverse a very active minefield and a large section of jungle before they reached any sort of civilization. That was why you did what you did. On Mondays, you usually received most of your orders from the previous week. That meant that after sorting through everything and conducting an inventory check, you spent the following day divvying everything up. Poppy’s items were always sent to her room, while everyone else got theirs as you saw them. You were friendly with everyone around the compound, save a few unsavory characters. This line of work didn’t attract the most model citizens, but a lot of them were quite nice.

“I’m not going to even set myself up for the disappointment.” You heard Charlie’s voice from behind you, and you suppressed the urge to smile. He walked over to you as you carried a bundle of various requests in a bag around the compound. He glanced into the bag as you dug around in it.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You tossed a big bag of M&Ms towards Michael, who caught them and waved. Everyone was a bit less conversational with you whenever Charlie was around. You didn’t know if they were afraid of him, but there was some reason for it. Charlie found what he was looking for and clutched the container of tea to his chest as if it was the most important thing in the world.

“Oh I think you do.” He looked at you, suspicion evident in the way his eyes were narrowed and his eyebrows, normally straight across, were bent down in scrutiny. It was such a strong look that you had a hard time hiding your reaction to seeing him so close. “You like this?” He ran his knuckles along his jaw, along his growing beard. You heard something in his voice that gave you pause. You couldn’t place it, but it activated a primal emotion set that you did your best to bury.

“Why would I care about that?” You sounded less than convincing to your own ears. You quickly looked away from him and continued your rounds, passing along a new book to someone else. He surprisingly followed you. You had hoped he would drop it and head back now that he got what he came for. You had a hard time dealing with his intensity in person, and in such large doses. You would prefer to admire him from afar. It was safer for you, anyway. You didn’t know if there were consequences for falling for Poppy’s right-metal hand-man as the conversation had never come up, but you weren’t about to find out.

“You can’t hide the flush in your cheeks from me.” You felt your stomach drop. Doing your best to ignore him, you continued on. “I see how you react to me. Is there anything you want to tell me?” Oh shit. Hell no. Absolutely not. He seemed to take your silence as an invitation to continue. You saw the raised eyebrow of the guard in front of you as you passed him his requested items and tried not to think of how this must look. How dare Charlie do this to you in front of other people. “I don’t bite, you know.” Oh god, this can’t be happening. “Unless, of course, you want me to.” You widened your eyes at his last remark and whipped around, smacking him in the leg with the bag you had slung over your shoulder on accident. You pushed him back, away from the guard. You could feel the firmness of his chest beneath your hands, but that was irrelevant.

“Will you shut up!” You angrily whispered. He didn’t seem deterred in the slightest. In fact, he was smiling. You pointed a finger at his chest, pressing hard. “You don’t get to embarrass me in front of everyone.” His smile faltered, and he didn’t move as you turned around and walked away.

“Charlie, stop bothering that poor girl.” Poppy closed the computer in front of her, focusing her attention on the now-distracted man. He had wandered into the diner after his encounter with you, massaging the source of pain in the center of his chest and feeling a little unsteady. He certainly hadn’t meant to upset you. He was doing his best to flirt with you, but maybe he had come on a little too strong. “She’s the best employee we have. We would be a mess without her. It’s very important, giving them some creature comforts. They’d be too restless otherwise. We don’t have anyone who could possibly replace her.”

Poppy always had a plan, always had an explanation for everything. It was what he admired most about her. This current situation defied explanation, however. He didn’t know what to do. “I’m not bothering her, just…” He couldn’t explain himself to Poppy without feeling a little uncomfortable. She was practically a mother to him at this point, but he couldn’t talk to her about you.

“You’re bothering her. If she’s not interested, leave her alone. We need her.” Poppy reclined in her desk chair, resting her feet up on the corner of her desk. She glanced out the window next to her and observed her domain functioning as it should.

“But I’m pretty sure she is interested.” He sat down in one of the empty chairs in front of her desk, resting his chin on his metal hand. Now that he was here, discussing it, he hoped Poppy could help him. He thought you were interested in him if your constant blushing and guarded behavior around him was any indication. Maybe Poppy could give him some good advice.

“Have you bothered asking her?” She glanced over at him, her hands neatly folded over her stomach. “You can’t guess at that sort of thing.”

“Well, no, but I-”

“So just ask her.” The thought of simply walking up and bluntly questioning her feelings didn’t feel right. Before he could say anything to Poppy, she let out a groan. “Look, here’s your opportunity to make up for what you just did. I swear, we need to get rid of him.”

Charlie followed her eyes and noticed that Sal had taken the bag you were carrying earlier and was going through it. You stood near him, arms crossed over your chest. If he weren’t twice your size, Charlie was sure Sal would be regretting that. But Charlie could certainly help with that. As he walked towards the doors leading out of the diner, Poppy called out to him. “Don’t break anything, please!”

“If you wanted something, you should have asked for it. You can’t take things from other people just because you’re lazy.” You stood, waiting for Sal to return your bag. “Come on, give it back. I actually have work to do, unlike you.” You held your hand out for the bag, watching him rummage through it with an annoyed look on your face. Sal was always a thorn in your side. Those unsavory characters you mentioned before? He was at the top of that list.

“You should listen to her.” Charlie’s voice was deep and threatening and you couldn’t deny the effect it had on you, but you were still aggravated at how he made you feel earlier. You weren’t glad he decided to intervene. You could handle this yourself. You did on days he wasn’t here. This wasn’t new behavior from Sal.

Sal looked up at Charlie, not at all intimidated. That was a mistake. “Look at you, metal man, coming out here to defend your girl.” Whoa, big mistake.

Both you and Charlie reacted immediately, though to different things. “I am not his girl.”

“Metal man?” Charlie nearly yelled.

Sal looked between the two of you, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Better get your stories straight, eh? Everyone knows.”

“Everyone knows what?!” You reached out, grabbing Sal’s shirt in your hand. It probably wasn’t as threatening as you intended, but it got the message across. You weren’t messing around.

Charlie took a step forward, placing a shiny hand on your shoulder. You noticed it in your peripheral vision before he even touched you. “We should talk.” You let go of Sal and looked up at Charlie. Why today? Why did he have to do this today? This was more contact than you’d had with him in weeks, all rolled into one morning. Charlie held out his other hand to Sal, who dutifully handed over the bag but not before taking the only thing you had ordered for yourself.

“Not that, please-”

“Put it back,” Charlie growled, again putting his deeper voice on display. Sal sighed and dropped the item back in the bag. He walked away, grumbling about something under his breath. Once Sal was out of earshot, Charlie turned to you. “Hey, I-”

“I didn’t need your help, you know.” You took the bag from him and shrugged off his hand on your shoulder, replacing its weight with the strap of the bag. You moved some things around in the bag, trying to organize it again as you spoke. “I’m not some helpless little girl you have to protect, I can handle things myself-”

“Hey, hey, calm down.” He stopped you from turning around by grabbing your upper arms gently. “I know you can handle yourself. I never doubted that.” You avoided looking at him, instead shrugging off his gentle grip and walking away. Charlie was at a loss. He didn’t know how to approach you without making you uncomfortable or upset. He turned to face the diner, where he spotted Poppy watching the exchange. He threw his hands in the air and she suppressed a smile.

You walked down the hallway, towel-drying your hair. You had changed into some cotton shorts and a plain t-shirt after your shower, hoping to have a chance to relax for a bit. On your way back to your room, you noticed Charlie headed your way, a towel thrown over his shoulder. You kept your head down, hoping he would keep walking. You were conflicted when he passed right by you, not saying anything at all. It was the outcome you had hoped for, but you still couldn’t deny that you wanted his attention. There was something about him that both pleased and vexed you. Perhaps it was that you didn’t know if you were even allowed to have feelings for him that made you angry with him, as if it was all his fault.

You got settled in your room, sitting up in your bed with a book open in your lap. Your bag sat on the floor next to your boots, finally empty. You had no other commitments for the rest of the day. Poppy had told you to spend the rest of your evening relaxing, so that’s exactly what you planned to do. You didn’t have the guts to discuss Charlie with her, and you weren’t sure if you ever would. Whenever you were speaking with her at her desk in the diner, you would catch the shine of the grinder out of the corner of your eye and get nervous. You yourself hadn’t been required to undergo the recruitment test that the other men had, and you were thankful, but you kept waiting for the day where she would ask that of you. You weren’t sure if you would be able to do it.

Unable to focus, you slammed the book shut and tossed it onto the desk, running your hands over your face in exasperation. You should have never agreed to come out here. Why had you come out here? You couldn’t even remember anymore. Maybe you needed to leave. You didn’t know if you even could. You reached over your shoulder to touch the ring of gold burned into your skin. You could feel the raised outline of it through your shirt. You wouldn’t be able to forget this place.

“Hey, is this a bad time?” You whipped your head around to see Charlie in the doorway, towel slung low around his hips. You could still see drops of water on his shoulders. The arm and its harness were gone. He must have just left the shower. Your mouth fell open in your attempt to reply, but you couldn’t form the words as your eyes roamed his bare chest for the first time. Thinking about running your fingers through the hair on his chest had you gripping the comforter tightly in your hands.

“Uh, maybe put some clothes on first?” You looked away from him and instead focused on the comforter you were holding on to. You started picking at it, pulling at a loose thread. A weight settling at the edge of the bed forced you to look up. You could see the muscles in his back as he leaned forward, his elbow on his thigh. You reached out and ran a finger across his shoulder blade and instantly recoiled once you touched his hot skin. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You brought your legs up to your chest to make yourself as small as possible. You didn’t think you could blush any harder than you currently were. You could see him smiling, and you got angry all over again. “What are you doing here, Charlie?”

“I wanted to talk to you, remember?” He looked over his shoulder at you, his blue eyes roaming over your face. He had a serious look on his face, and between that and his posture he somehow managed to appear vulnerable.

“O-okay then, talk.” You wrapped your arms around your knees, keeping them pulled up against your chest. You did that mostly so you didn’t accidentally touch him again.

“Why are you always so angry with me?” He asked. That was a loaded question. If you answered it honestly, you’d really mess things up. If you lied, then you’d only grow angry with yourself.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to work on it.” You avoided his gaze as you sidestepped around his question.

“That’s not what I’m asking.” Of course it wasn’t. What he was asking for you to explain was the root of all your problems with him. Your fear of your own feelings, and the possible consequences of making them known. Though it was certainly pleasurable, you didn’t want to be distracted by Charlie if you knew it couldn’t happen. And it shouldn’t. Maybe if you explained that to him, he would leave you alone.

You squeezed your eyes shut and groaned. “Alright, fine.” He sat up straight, turning to face you. You avoided eye contact and steeled yourself so you could focus on explaining it to him. “I only get angry with you because I am interested in you-”

“You are?” You ignored his interruption, opting to continue with what you were saying before you left some important detail out.

“But I know it’s not going to happen. Poppy would probably flip if she knew, and I kind of like living. I appreciate everything you do to try to help me, but having you around is a constant reminder of all the things I shouldn’t be feeling. So…maybe just keep your distance. That would probably be easier.” There, you finally said it. He would have to understand the consequences you would face. You could go back to your brief greetings, and things would stay the same. “I’ll still get you your stuff-”

“Poppy knows.” Those two words sent your comfort level rocketing down to depths you didn’t know you could feel. Instantly you felt your arms trembling and you squeezed them tighter around your knees. You had just spoken with her, and she knew? Oh god, how on earth had you- “She knows how I feel, anyway.” You looked up at his words, knowing none of that could help you. He wasn’t the one who would experience the consequences.

“Poppy is going to kill me for all this.” You mumbled it, but he still heard you. He reached out and laid his hand on your knee. You felt the roughness of his skin and you forced yourself to remain present and coherent as you thought about what his hand would feel like all over. You shouldn’t be thinking like that.

“No she’s not.” He gave your knee a squeeze and you forced yourself to move away from him, standing up next to the desk. “She’s more worried about me scaring you off than anything else.” He stood up, getting close to you. As his face neared yours, you turned your head. How had this whole situation transformed so quickly? You still couldn’t allow yourself to react to him. He still felt forbidden and out of reach. You didn’t like the confusing mixture of emotions running through you. Everything was at odds with each other in your mind.

“You should go.” You lifted your hands to create a barrier, but you came into contact with his abdomen on your way up. You felt him suck in a breath. You smoothed your hands up his torso, feeling his muscles tense underneath your fingers. You stopped at his collarbone, enjoying the feeling of him. You noticed his eyes fall closed, and you immediately dropped your hands. “What the hell is wrong with me?” You moved your hands to cover your face, but the brief memory of the way he felt under your palms prevented you from touching anything. You were absolutely overwhelmed and more conflicted than you had ever been in your life. “Charlie, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I-”

You felt his hand on your cheek and you jumped but then settled into his touch. He lifted your face to look up at him and offered you a gentle smile. “Just breathe. You need to relax. I can go, but I want you to think about this, to consider this. I’ll respect your wishes if you want me to leave you alone. Just say the word.” You nodded and he took a step back, releasing your face. Your skin burned. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” You nodded again, and offered him the best smile you could muster, which wasn’t much with how little control you had over your emotions at present, but he seemed satisfied. He backed out of the room and left you standing there, heart in your throat. What on earth were you supposed to do now?

You didn’t see him at all the next day, or the day after that. Or at all the next week, either. You let yourself feel responsible. Poppy had sent him away, you just knew it. And it was all because of you. The time without him around allowed you to attempt to sort out your feelings. You felt obligated to tell him, but he wasn’t around. Your frustration grew as more time passed without him making any contact. You had decided that night that you only had two options that wouldn’t slowly drive you insane.

You could either attempt to leave, praying you didn’t step on a landmine on your way out, or you could stay and come to terms with whatever it was that Charlie might feel for you. That also meant allowing yourself to admit what you felt towards him. Both options were intimidating, but you knew you would have a hard time going back to how things were, now that you knew you wouldn’t be decapitated by Poppy. She had actually been pretty nice to you in Charlie’s absence, but she avoided talking about him.

You still ordered his tea for him and left it in his room. You also finally ordered his razors and left them waiting for him too. You didn’t feel like lying to him anymore. After the second week and still nothing from him, you started to get worried. Had he left for good? Was that why Poppy refused to talk about him being gone from the compound for so long?

You marched over to the theater in the darkness and pulled open the door, ignoring the guard who attempted to stop you. You stomped down the aisle, blinking at the garish lighting effects as Elton John performed onstage. At your entrance he paused and the music was cut altogether. Poppy turned around in her large chair and brought the microphone up to her face. “Y/N, what brings you here?”

“Where is he? He’s been gone for so long, something must have happened to him.” You stopped once you were standing in front of her and she turned the microphone off, setting it in the empty chair beside her, a chair reserved for Charlie, you realized.

“Oh, honey, you don’t need to worry about him, he’ll be back soon. But don’t worry, I’ll let him know how much you miss him the next time I talk to him.” You frowned.

“The next time you- when is soon?” Now that you knew he was alright, you allowed yourself to calm down a little.

“I’m not sure exactly, but I would imagine within a couple of days. My plant in Italy should be entirely self-sufficient by then.” Italy. He was in Italy. He wasn’t in danger, and he was probably even having fun. It soured your mood a little bit. He couldn’t have found some way to contact you at all during the last couple of weeks? Especially after the last conversation you had?

There was nothing to be done about it. You would just have to keep waiting. You felt embarrassed for storming in there and disrupting things. “I’m sorry.” You stepped around the large chair and marched back out of the theater. You could hear her voice through the speakers as the door closed behind you. You stuck your hands in your pockets and headed back to your room. Soon was better than never, you supposed.

“What the fuck is this?” You felt the mattress dip and you turned over sleepily, trying to see in the dark. You couldn’t see much of anything so you reached over and turned on your bedside lamp which ended up being too bright so you shut it off again. You heard familiar laughter and felt the bed shaking. Charlie.

“It’s not funny.” You mumbled, irritated. But that was short-lived because he was back, and far sooner than you expected.

“You thought you were fooling me all this time? And now you give me these?” He dropped the pack of razors on your stomach and you felt in the darkness for it. “It’s not like anyone else started growing a beard. Why’d you hide these from me?”

“I like your beard,” you confessed in your groggy state. “And if you were so smart, why didn’t you take some from someone else?” You groaned and sat up, giving him more space to sit on the twin bed.

You could just make out his features in the light coming in through the window. He was smiling, but there was something else there that you couldn’t decipher, not yet at least.

“Because I figured there was a reason for all this. I just wanted to let it play out.” You felt cold metal against the side of your face and you leaned into it, putting your hand over his bionic one. “I wish I could feel that,” he breathed.

“Here.” You reached for his other hand blindly, coming into contact with his forearm in the darkness. You both chuckled for a moment before you placed his other hand on the other side of your face, covering that hand too. He smoothed his thumb across your cheek and let out a breath. “You were gone for a long time.” He paused his movements. “I thought I knew exactly what I would say to you when you got back, but I don’t even remember it now,” you confessed. “But, um, I guess it would be important to tell you that I don’t want you to leave me alone.” You could hear your own heartbeat in the silence that followed. You worried that maybe you misunderstood or that he might have changed his mind during his absence and you felt uneasy. “I’m sorry if-”

You felt him pull you in and you were cut off by his lips pressing firmly against yours. Your hands left his and traveled up his neck. You finally let yourself touch his beard with your fingers, scratching it a little, enjoying the way it scraped against your skin. You didn’t do a good job of suppressing your groan as he opened his mouth against yours, deepening the kiss you had imagined receiving for a while now. What you had invented in your mind didn’t even come close to actually having him there, his hot mouth and full lips proving to be the tools of your own destruction.

He got closer to you, releasing his hold on your face to throw off his thin jacket. He then let his hands rest on your sides, fingers teasing at the skin under the hem of your thin camisole. You held the back of his head, keeping his mouth firmly on yours despite your need for air. You let your other hand slide from his jaw, down the front of his neck, fingers gently trailing over the device on his throat as they made their way down to rest against his chest. He separated from you, both of you breathing heavily. “Does it bother you?” He panted, gesturing towards his throat in the darkness.

You sat up in the bed, throwing off the covers. “Why on earth would that bother me, Charlie? Of course it doesn’t.” You moved over to him and gently tilted his chin up, exposing his throat. You pressed a kiss to the cold metal there and you felt him swallow in reaction. You stayed at his neck, moving off to the side to press kisses there, continuing down until you ran into the collar of his shirt.

“Uh, here I’ve got to-” He reached for the straps of the harness and you moved his hands away.

“Let me.” You could see the vulnerability in his eyes despite the poor lighting as he hesitantly dropped his hands. He hadn’t recovered from this, not mentally. You felt for the buckles and shamelessly took advantage of being able to run your hands all over his chest. You felt him giggle at one point and you liked that you seemed to be putting him at ease. You gently undid the buckle along his abdomen first, followed by the one that ran across his chest diagonally. You didn’t want to mess them up, so you carefully bundled them up and reached over to set them on your desk. You had the wide strap left, which covered his shoulder. You ran your hand up his side and he let his head fall on your shoulder with a gasp.

“I should let you do this every day.” You smiled to yourself, leaning your head against his. It was somehow incredibly intimate. You would certainly do this anytime he asked. You unsnapped the largest of the buckles and followed the wider band up to remove the rest of the harness at the base of his shoulder. You were doing this blind, his head on your shoulder preventing you from actually seeing the harness. “There’s, uh, one more, it’s hard to find, I can do it.” He sat up and reached over with his left hand and you watched as he unclasped the smallest of the buckles which wrapped around the metal arm itself. Now that the harness was loose, he pulled it away and tossed it on the floor. “Do you want me to keep it on?” He meant the arm.

“What do you want?” You asked. He thought about it for a moment before he twisted the arm in an unnatural direction and pulled it away from his shoulder, looking around for a place to put it. “I can set it over here, on the desk,” you offered. You held up your hands and he gently lowered it into your arms. You stood up and walked over to the desk, setting it down with a gentle thud. When you turned around to return to the bed, he was standing, leaning to compensate for the missing weight on his right side.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. You could see him better now that he was standing in front of the window. He stepped further into the light coming in from the window and reached down to pull his shirt off over his head. You watched his muscles flex as the shirt rose, exposing more and more of him until it was lying on the floor with his jacket and harness. He quickly undid his belt and pants and kicked them off as well. He kept his black boxer briefs on. He stood up straight, still leaning a little to the side, but you thought he looked perfect. You let yourself approach him, lightly running a finger along his collarbone. He let a smile flicker across his face and his breathing changed. “Now let me take care of you.”

He bent down and wrapped his arm around your thighs, picking you up easily. Your hands instinctively went for his shoulders to support yourself, but he was very careful with you. He carried you back to the bed and slowly lowered you down, staying over you. He supported himself with his arm as he kissed you again. You only got to taste him for a moment before he started pressing sloppy kisses down your neck. You kept one hand wrapped around his bicep, giving him gentle squeezes as he nipped at your skin here and there, and the other rested lightly on the back of his head as he moved lower. You noticed his right shoulder move and he looked down at the missing arm, a little distracted. You realized what he had tried to do and lifted your leg, wrapping it around his hip. “Sorry,” he mumbled. You cupped his cheeks with both hands, forcing him to look at you.

“Don’t ever apologize for something like that.” You were serious. You hated that he even felt the need to apologize in the first place. He looked down at you as if seeing you for the first time, a bit of wonder in his expression.

“How are you real?” You flushed and let go of his face. “What do I have to do to keep you happy?” He leaned down and pressed his mouth to your breast, biting down through the thin cotton camisole. You were not expecting that. The fluttery feeling low in your abdomen strengthened, and you arched your back, pushing your chest up harder against his mouth. You let out a moan and reached back up to hold his bicep again, squeezing tightly. “That? Is that what you want?” He spoke against the fabric, his lips brushing against your nipple. He bit down again once he was done talking.

“Oh, god yes,” you whispered. He moved lower, to the hem of the shirt you were still wearing. You wanted to squeeze your thighs shut, but he was between them already and you just ended up squeezing your legs tighter around him. His nose brushed against the skin of your abdomen and you jumped. You felt him smile into your skin as he pressed a kiss there.

His beard was comfortingly scratchy against your skin as he moved up, nudging the shirt up as best as he could. You realized he was improvising in the removal of your shirt due to him supporting all his weight on his good arm. You sucked in a breath as his nose nudged against the underside of your breast. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You let go of his arm and reached down to grab the shirt and pull it off over your head. You hadn’t realized you were sweating until the fabric left you and the cold air replaced it. He took advantage of your momentary distraction and returned his mouth to your chest, sucking hard on the sensitive skin, intent on leaving a mark. You let your head fall back and you scratched your nails over his scalp soothingly, enjoying the feeling of the fuzzy softness of his buzzed hair under your fingertips.

He ground his hips down into yours and you felt him firm against you. You felt a dull ache between your legs, as well as the sensation of being profoundly hollow. “Oh, Charlie, please-” you moaned.

“Fuck yes, tell me what you want.” He did his best to catch his breath, chilling the moist skin where he had surely left a bruise. He brought himself back up so he was mostly level with you and pressed a firm, wet kiss to the side of your neck. “What do you want, love, what do you need from me?” You could feel his arm shaking a little, and you realized he had been supporting all of his body weight the entire time.

“Hey, relax.” You reached up and ran your hand up and down his arm. “Rest for a second.” He let his weight settle on you with a sigh and you could tell it bothered him. You ran your hands up and down his back as he breathed, his arm stretched out for a moment at his side. You loved the skin to skin contact, as sweaty as you both were.

“This is so frustrating,” you heard him say.

“Don’t,” you warned him. “Now turn over.”

“What?” He asked, looking up at you.

“I need you to turn over,” you repeated. He pushed against the mattress until he was sitting up, allowing you to get out from under him and stand for a moment. You caught him watching you as he settled down, flat on his back. You pushed your thin shorts and underwear down your legs, stepping out of them before returning to the bed. You pulled his underwear down his long legs with a smile, tossing them on the ever-growing pile of clothes in the middle of the floor.

He reached down but you got there first, wrapping your small hand around him, giving him a few experimental pumps. He let out what you would describe as a whine before letting his head fall back against the pillow. After a few more strokes, you added your mouth. His head shot up and you could hear his moans as he attempted to protest. His mouth hung open, but he couldn’t speak. You watched the rise and fall of his chest. His large hand smoothed your hair out of the way, holding it in a loose bun at the base of your head. He didn’t attempt to push your head down, though you felt his fingers flexing in your hair. You took your time tasting him, listening for his breathing to pause, learning what he liked.

“Babe, come here,” he managed, gently pulling at your hair. “I’m not gonna last much longer.” You released him reluctantly and wiped your mouth before sitting up. He was pink from his chest to his cheeks, and he still hadn’t recovered. You felt that ache again as you looked him over, seeing just how not composed he was.

He reached down and brushed his knuckles along the inside of your thigh. You jumped back, completely unprepared for the throbbing you felt between your legs as a result. “Come here,” he repeated. You raised an eyebrow at him, hand moving to your thigh where he had touched you, hoping to dull the sensation. It didn’t work.

He lost his patience and sat up, hand firmly grabbing your hip and pulling you down closer to the middle of the mattress, you naturally falling back. He spread your thighs and your mind went through all the times where you imagined what this would be like. “Is this what you were thinking of when you started hiding my razors?” He lightly ran his jaw along the inside of your thighs, leaving you speechless. You whimpered. You wanted to feel the rawness between your thighs when he was done with you. A reminder of what he-

“Is it?” He ran his tongue along your slit, applying light pressure once he reached that wonderful bundle of nerves. You could feel his beard scratching the sensitive skin along the insides of your thighs and you almost lost it right then. He flattened his tongue against you and paused to look up at you. You could feel the throbbing of your clit against the stillness of his tongue. You wondered if he felt it too. If you could have one picture, you wished it was that, him looking up at you like that. He kept his hand pressed into your abdomen, anchoring you so you couldn’t get up. “Is it?” He repeated.

You finally nodded. “Yes, yes exactly this.”

You watched him smile. “Good, me too.” Oh, fuck. Did he just admit to having the same fantasy as you?

You moaned loudly as he continued the expert use of his tongue, squealing when he sucked your clit into his mouth. Your hands went for his hair, but there was nothing to grab onto. He laughed into you and you wanted to hit him for it. He continued his slow but methodical teasing, and you felt everything all at once. The pull of his mouth on your hot center, the sweat practically dripping down the back of your legs, the irritation on the insides of your thighs, his hand forcing you down into the mattress. “Fuck, Charlie, I’m-”

“That’s it, come for me. You can do it.” He punctuated his words with more hot wet pressure and that was all it took. You mumbled a string of curses under your breath as his grip on you tightened. He alternated levels of pressure as your legs attempted to close around his head. He moved his hand from your abdomen to your thigh to prevent you from closing your legs as he made sure you finished completely. You fell back, completely limp and panting. He kissed the inside of one of your thighs and sat up. “You’re fucking amazing,” he spoke, looking down at you. He ran a hand across his chin.

You moved to sit up, wanting to reward him with a huge kiss but he leaned over you. He buried his face in your neck and relaxed. You let your hands explore his back, slowly raking your fingernails up and down. He gave you less than a minute before he pushed into you. You hissed, still extremely sensitive. He filled you easily as you were already swollen and slick.

“Fucking hell, Charlie.” You pulled his face up to yours and captured his open mouth in a searing kiss. You let one of your hands reach next to your head to rub his arm while you met his deep thrusts with a roll of your hips. He cursed to himself and rested his forehead against your collarbone, doing his best to maintain a steady pace. You were already close again as he picked up the pace, his thrusts quick and deep. He had to be close because he kept mumbling your name under his breath. You came again, your spasms bringing him right down with you. He grunted and was able to manage a few more good thrusts before he fell on top of you, weak and completely spent.

You ran your hands up and down his spine gently, teasingly, his body heat protecting you from the chill as the air hit the perspiration on every exposed inch of your skin. “I missed you,” you confessed. “I was worried you had left me here.”

He breathed deeply before replying. “It was only supposed to take a few days, or so I was told.” He moved onto his back and you rolled over to rest your cheek on his chest, keeping one of his long legs trapped between yours. He reached over and pulled the comforter up over the both of you. “Once I got there, it was clear that they had been embellishing their progress.”

He found one of your hands and threaded his fingers through yours. “But I realized something while I was stuck on that freezing mountain- without a sat phone, if you can believe it.” He smiled, smoothing a thumb over the top of your hand.

“What?” You asked, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He looked down at you and kissed your swollen lips.

“I’m a little bit in love with you.” You were struck by his confession. He studied you, trying to see what your reaction would be. His blue eyes glowed. You didn’t expect anything like this from him, but you were definitely glad to hear it.

“I’m a little bit in love with you too.” You were certain of it. He had the biggest grin on his face. He kissed your forehead and you relaxed against him.

“Get some rest, love.” He kissed the back of your hand and settled in, keeping your linked hands on his chest. “We can talk more in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Charlie,” you whispered.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

#Charlie hesketh x reader #kingsman #the golden circle #writing #charlie hesketh #hope you guys like this!

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mbii · 7 years ago

Text

Mission Possible: Bison in Vegas, Brotherhood, and “The Upset”

I just wanted to run.

I wanted to run away from all of my problems, either self-made or world-made, and bathe in a shower of shoulder slaps and full body hugs. I wanted to go a place where I wouldn’t judge or be judged, or have to measure up to some illusory standard, or have to wear the mask or play a character for their delight or my survival. Orange Julius Caesar was still in office, and I was still reeling from Charlottesville.

I wanted to run. I needed to run. I’d promise to return and fight for oceans of justice and rivers of fairness, but for now, I needed to escape to my alma mater in the interest of self-preservation.

I wanted to be a lovable goofball. I wanted to sport an embarrassingly honest smile that spanned the width of my contiguous country, wear some ill-fitting alumni gear, and throw my arms around complete strangers while singing the aggressively long song of my university. Winning the weekend for me wasn’t about SCOREBOARD. It was about family coming together at a Kairos moment to share love when we all needed it the most.

But I’ll take the W.

HOWARD OVER UNLV! YA HEARD! WHAT WHAAAAAAAAT?

According to the sports books, this was the biggest upset in college football HISTORY.

The prediction? PAIN. We were supposed to lose by 45 points. $100 dollars on Howard with the right bookie would’ve gotten someone out from under a year of school debt.

YEP. THAT HAPPENED. Howard went ahead and became a football school. AND I WAS THERE.

Los Angeles is an urban sprawl. The numbers will tell you that it’s full of black folk, which is true, but we’re spread across this coastal city like a drop of grape jelly across two slices of white bread. I knew this was something to keep in mind as a DC transplant and native New Yorker, but even still, I was caught way off guard. Out here on the Left Coast, melanin just ain’t connected to each other like that.

Needless to say, I was eager to meet up with my HU family. I didn’t know anyone else going to Vegas – and part of me liked this, since I had quickly created a highly imaginative alternate reality where I would sneak into Vegas, act totally out of character for 72 hours, and jump back in my Prius for home (because why not save money on gas?). Walter Mitty would’ve been proud. But I caved to my better, more responsible self and invited two of my new LA friends to keep me in line – Gipp and Silk.

Gipp was a four-letter athlete at Howard, a starting wide receiver for our forlorn franchise for as long as his academic scholarship allowed. Gipp came from South Carolina as a two-sport guy in his high school days, but ditched his sprint spikes for a college career in cleats. Although Gipp and I didn’t attend Howard at the same time, we became fast friends through our shared Los Angeles church community and an equal zest for life and faith. He’s also the perfect Goose to my Maverick, unlike most sloppy husband types who forget what it is to navigate the perilous waters of young adult male singlehood.

Gipp and I added Silk later, after running into him at the Whole Foods in Playa Vista. He’s the hyper intelligent black computer engineer friend who writes code for dating apps that everyone should have. Silk lives a sneeze from new Silicon Beach (which is how he got his name), has forgotten more about cryptocurrencies that I’ll ever know, and is addicted to CrossFit. No lie. Silk may not have Gipp’s football pedigree but he’s built like an Olympic decathlete. This, of course, made me the fat guy of the group.

Once the group was set, weeks felt like days. Gipp’s wife said YES, I snagged a room at Aria, Silk rented a gluttonously large Ford Explorer, and we piled in and zipped across the Mojave Desert to Vegas.

After sleeping across the middle row for nearly the entire drive, I yawned like a hibernating bear, rubbed my eyes with my fists and looked through the front windshield at the fast approaching city. Las Vegas is quite charming from a distance, like watching a handful of middle-aged uncles proudly march into church on Easter Sunday with neon suits. Vegas’s skyscrapers touched the sky like Babel’s towers, but exist as nameless and faceless trophies until you get in range. Mandalay Bay. Tropicana. Luxor. Planet Hollywood. This was Las Vegas, in its marvelous splendor, standing as a symbolic affront to restraint.

We parked the Explorer at Aria, opened our doors, and got smacked in the face by the heat. It was God’s reminder that we were still in His desert, and we hightailed it for the hotel lobby. We checked in, inhaled three burgers at Gordon Ramsay’s, and strolled through the adjacent indoor mall like conquering heroes, analyzing the Labor Day horde that we were about to share our weekend with.

You see, Las Vegas is a city without duplicates. You’ve got your red hats, your coastals, your warlocks, your hookers, your fixed incomers, your derelicts, your grandmas and grandpas, your fiends, your infants, your sultans, your tycoons, your hipsters, your dancing girls and your degenerates, of all colors and shapes, crammed along one long strip of concrete, baking in the desert heat.

Not one person looks the same in Vegas. Gipp and I walked past a six-foot-three black man in the middle of the mall wearing a black welding visor that covered his face down to his mustache, a second golf visor above the first that stretched horizontally from his forehead (presumably, to shield the sun), a black fishnet shirt, and pink marina shorts that squeezed his quads like they were pigs in a blanket. And the man stared at us as if we were out of place.

After a Friday night alumni event catered by the good folks of HUAA (free food!), a superb community service project that I hear went GREAT! (we, umm, overslept), and a full day of soaking in poolside rays and Top 25 football games over family-style meats (although the food at the book left MUCH to be desired)…we made our way to Sam Boyd Stadium, home of the Runnin’ Rebels.

Yes, we were late. In our defense, we were afraid of getting barbequed by the Vegas desert. So, from the parking lot, we heard the public address announcer yell the first score of the game at us:

“TOUCHDOWN! FIFTY-TWO YARD RUN BY CAYLIN NEWTON! HOWARD UP 7 TO 0!”

I looked at Gipp. His mouth had already hit the asphalt like a grand piano.

“Wait, WHAAAAAAAA???”

We darted into the stadium, looked for our seats, and scanned the field turf for clues. The alumni section murmured politely, with a select few engaging in cautious celebration. Let’s keep it 100. We were pretty, pretty confident that this was a fluke. I remember the Jay Walker tales, but come on man: this is Howard football. We had to crumble sooner or later, right? Right?

For starters, UNLV’s QB was a cool six-foot six-inch black Randall Cunningham clone who could get seven yards a snap. UNLV also had a running back who I derisively called NUMBER 3. Dude moved like a Create a Player in Madden whose speed and agility were maxed to 99. And our diminutive defensive front made their offense look like The Monstars from Space Jam.

But, to our surprise, our defense bent without breaking. They were the unsung heroes. UNLV would hit a big play – like a monster play-action pass at the end of the first quarter to put them in the red zone – and our Bison would burr their noses into the goal line and hold them to chip shots.

A long run by College Randall Cunningham. Only 3.

A short field after a short punt. Still 3.

Later, a HUGE mistake by their QB…he was rushing to the line after another one of his backbreaking downfield plays…fumbled inside our 30-yard line, and our senior linebacker Rollins scooped the loose ball (he bobbled for a second in our line of sight and we GASPED) and rumbled down the sideline with an envoy of his comrades to pay dirt. 21-9. BISON.

UNLV quickly got some of it back, but the halftime score told no lies. In the face of open disbelief, Howard football was WINNING. 21-19 after 30 minutes.

It was a short halftime show. Showtime marched with a skeleton crew and UNLV danced their pirated moves. Meanwhile, the winds at Sam Boyd picked up to Dust Bowl levels. The debris blew so much that I watched most of the third quarter through my sunglasses like a freshman at his first nightclub.

The third quarter was rough. The Rebels ran out like dogs with their tails on fire, scoring two quick touchdowns and sending some of our alums straight to the strip. 33-21, UNLV. We got the ball back and Philyaw – our ex-quarterback-turned-running back and runner-up for Player of the Game – quickly scored on a short run from three yards out. 33-28, UNLV.

Throughout the half, the wind was catching kickoffs and pulling them directly to Earth. On our ensuing kickoff after the score, the wind forced the ball into the hands of a clumsy UNLV up man, who promptly fumbled the ball right back to our squad. Short field. Back to Philyaw. Touchdown. Go for TWO? Why not!

36-33, BISON.

Now, it was the fourth quarter. The wind flipped to our backs and our kicker booted the next kickoff into the UNLV end zone. UNLV started their drive at the 20, with a healthy dose of NUMBER 3, their all-Madden man. Six handoffs later, he was dancing in the far end zone, giving UNLV a 40-36 lead with just over 10 minutes left in the game. Gipp groaned, I stared deeply into the cement stands, and we began to prepare for the inevitable.

And then, Caylin Newton went to work.

Cam’s little brother is a tidy 5 feet, 10 inches. He looks and plays like a miniature version of the 2015 NFL MVP minus the alligator shoes and Popeye arms. Still, Caylin’s deft handling of the offense – read optioning, audibling at the line of scrimmage, jump passing, and getting to the edge on designed QB runs – proved far too skilled for the Howard program I knew. How did we get this guy? Did his family owe a pound of flesh to the Merchant of Venice?

On this go-ahead drive, Caylin picked apart UNLV’s defense like a NASCAR pit crew mechanic. Handoff. Handoff. Run. Handoff. BIG PASS. PLUNGE. SIX! Howard up by 3, with a half quarter to burn.

UNLV got the ball back, Howard held, and UNLV decided to punt into the wind. BAD IDEA. Only 10 yards in net distance, and we braced for the kill. Lil’ Cam got us to their goal line, but finally: UNLV’s d-line held firm. Turnover on downs.

Clone Cunningham got the ball in his hands at his own 2-yard line with a vendetta, firing a deep in route across his body to a streaking Vegas WR. His man caught it, had the angle on the Howard corner, slowed down for no apparent reason, and FUMBLED. HU with another recovery. Time to milk the clock.

Penalty. Run. Run. Run. Pooch Punt. Touchback. And UNLV got the ball back, 19 seconds away from becoming an opening weekend trivia question.

I stood up. My hands were on my head like a sprinter after interval training. I had done no running.

Pass one? COMPLETE for 19 yards. UNLV now on their 38. Could Randall throw a Hail Mary from here?

Pass two? Incomplete. My heart was beating out of my chest. Why is our defense so far back? MOVE CLOSER. OHMYGOD. SOMEONE TELLS ME WHEN IT ENDS.

13 seconds left.

Pass three? CAUGHT. By speedy NUMBER 3, my personal nemesis.

He made his first man miss, and sprinted across the 50. We had men on his tail, but he was just FASTER.

To the 45. SOMEBODY STOP HIM.

To the 40. WE CANNOT LOSE LIKE THIS.

Down. Tackled at the 30.

GAME OVER.

HOWARD 43, LAS VEGAS 40.

You remember the scene from Goodfellas, when Henry Hill is showering while listening to the radio for details on the Lufthansa Heist, hears the juicy goodness, and begins to shrill like a banshee?

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! JIMMY!”

That was me, in the backseat of our rental, yelling and pounding the mats with my feet like a rebellious toddler.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! HOWARD! THE REAL HU! LET’S GOOOOOOO!”

We arrived back at Aria still delirious with excitement, cackling as black men do when richly enjoying the company of their own, sauntering into the casino at Aria like three sumo wrestlers after a buffet. We were using our outside voices inside, but we didn’t care. Something unbelievable had happened, and we were chosen by God as Las Vegas’s first apostles. And the whole world needed to know.

The tomb was empty, and our football program was alive.

MISSION POSSIBLE.

- mb

#howard #football #upsets #vegas

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