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paterson-blue · 4 years ago

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Shadow of the Sea: Chapter 1

Summary: Kylo is used to being alone. It's how he's survived this long, in the cold ocean depths. He can take care of himself. Other creatures--other merfolk--are dangerous; he has the scars to prove it. Humans, however, are the worst of all. But one day, Kylo finds he has no other choice but to turn to one for help. The human he meets is nothing like he expects, and all he knows is he wants more. Is he willing to pay the price?

Word Count: 4,394

Warnings: fem!AFAB!reader, plot set up, kylo ren needs a hug confirmed, non-graphic descriptions of violence & bodily harm, brief mentions of blood & wounds, very vague medical descriptions lol, minor character death (happens off screen), oh but there's also one that happens on screen but it's brief, big time ocean nostalgia from your dear author— let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: Thank you @paper-n-ashes for beta reading! Icon behavior tbh.

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

Kylo prided himself on his independence—his ferocity, his ability to fight his way out of every corner. His body was scarred and battle-hardened, but that didn’t matter. It was proof he was a survivor, and it’s not like he had anyone around him to care about his appearance. Most creatures he saw took one look at his massive form and ran.

He was intimidating, all muscle, his fins torn from previous fights. While his skin was pale, his scales were an onyx color; it made blending into the ocean depths easier. He couldn’t understand why merfolk’s standard of beauty was a brightly colored tail; didn’t it make camouflaging more difficult?

He guessed most merfolk didn’t care about that. They lived in large groups, colorful and cheerful and busy amongst other plant and animal life. Not many delved into the cold, murky areas Kylo had made his home. But he’d been there as long as he could remember, and there was no sense in changing things. He wouldn’t be welcome in the warmer waters anyway. They didn’t want him, and he didn’t want them.

So he kept away, and no one dared bother him. Those that did quickly learned not to. He had killed many creatures, and while it was all in defense, his reputation still preceded him. After all, he’d once fought one of the most dangerous predators the ocean knew, and he’d won.

He’d killed a human, after they’d captured him in their net. He’d overpowered them easily, yanked them from their boat into the water; he hadn’t even flinched when their little fishing knife plunged into his side. He’d watched with a furious gaze as the air left their lungs, their pathetic struggling eventually ceasing. Then he’d calmly cut himself loose from the netting. The knife wound had scarred over, but it was just one more to add to his collection.

Yes, Kylo prided himself on his abilities. He had no fear, no weakness; he never ran from a fight.

He was running now.

He’d been foolish. He should have realized why his normal hunting grounds had been so devoid of fish for the past few days—he should have seen the signs, should have been more careful. But hunger makes you desperate; makes you stupid. He hadn’t been paying attention, too focused on the singular fish he’d found.

It seemed to happen all at once. A sudden blow to his head that left him reeling, pain shooting through his skull as he whips himself around in attempts to find his attacker. A searing burn in his side the exact moment he feels a sharp pinch at the back of his neck. His head starts to spin with confusion, the scent of his own blood in the water.

He spots a figure out of the corner of his eye, and his heart leaps into his throat. It was a human, and they had some sort of weapon pointed right at him.

Kylo doesn’t think—he just bolts. They don’t seem to follow him at first, and he doesn’t understand why until he starts to feel the first symptoms of whatever they’ve injected him with. It makes him dizzy, makes his vision start to blur as a sickening metallic taste fills his mouth.

No, he thinks. I won’t let them do this.

He pulls strength from deep within and pushes himself to swim faster, farther. He hears a muffled shout from behind, and oh, they’re pursuing him now.

He swims frantically, skirting around rocks and through kelp forests, desperately trying to lose them even though he thinks he might hear the dull thrum of a boat motor over the thudding of blood in his ears. Kriff, he was so tired. It would be so easy to let the human magic overtake him, to sink to the ocean floor.

Was this death? A dreamless sleep that crept over your senses until you had no choice but to succumb to it? Kylo doesn’t want to die, not like this. Not where they can get to him, at least.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, doesn’t even know where he is until he catches a quick glimpse of a familiar rock formation. His mind is in shambles, drugged and panicked, lacking oxygen as his gills burn with the strain of his labored breathing.

A cove. Not too far from here. Too shallow for a boat, too rocky for humans. A cave to shelter in. Go, swim, fast, now, now, go.

The voice in his head doesn’t feel like his own—it’s frantic, urgent, thoughtless. Usually he was so composed, controlled. The threat of death had turned him into nothing more than an animal; he’s never felt so small.

He ducks and weaves as he swims towards the hidden cove, trying to convince himself he’s doing it on purpose and not just fading in and out of consciousness. If he can just stay awake a little longer, if he can just make it to that kriffing cave, he can die with dignity. Alone and cold, drugged and bleeding, but away from the humans trying to hurt him.

Kylo nearly loses his speed when he breeches the shallow waters of the cove, his mind wanting to shut down now that he’s made it. He forces himself to keep going despite his nausea and lightheadedness. His lungs are screaming, muscles aching; he scrapes his tail against the rocky outcroppings as he searches frantically for the mouth of the underwater cave.

It’s here, it’s here. I know it’s here, I’ve seen it, I mapped it. Where is it?!

His hands snag against an opening, just barely big enough for him to squeeze through, and he darts into it. It’s a tight fit, and for a brief second Kylo is terrified he’ll get stuck and pass out from whatever the humans hit him with—he’ll die, trapped, never to be found.

But then, quick as a flash, he’s through to the other side. The small tunnel opens up into a larger cavern, protected from the elements and decorated with several pools of varying depths. He’d explored it once, curious, thinking it would be a nice place to hide. It was a little too close to humanity for his comfort, but then again he’d never seen this area very populated. He’d figured he’d keep it in the back of his mind for later.

Turns out later was now.

Kylo pulls himself to the edge of the main and deepest pool, looking around urgently through spotty vision. There was a pool in the corner, half hidden by rocks—it looked shallow, but just deep enough to be submerged. Exhaling fast, he hauls himself up and out of the water, coughing and choking as his body tries to adjust from using his gills to his mouth and nose to breathe. It was never an easy transition, and he hated doing it, but right now it was what he needed.

He growls to himself as he pulls his heavy body along the rough stone cave floor, his normally nimble tail a dead weight. If he wasn’t about to faint, he thinks he’d be a bit more graceful. By the time he rolls unceremoniously into the shallow pool, his palms are all scraped up and bleeding. He doesn’t care; barely feels the sting. He’s not really feeling much of anything at this point, head spinning out of control.

Laying like this on his back, head propped up against the ledge of the pool, Kylo gazes up at the jagged rock ceiling. His lungs crackle as he heaves in breaths, heart still pounding loudly. It’s hard to hear anything else, and he wonders again if his attackers are closing in on him. Does it even matter? His dying mind questions. He doesn’t have an opportunity to think of a retort before his body finally breaks, and he succumbs to the drug induced sleep.

—————————————————————

You wake to the familiar sounds of distant crashing waves, whistling wind, and calls of seagulls. After years on the island, the noise was a comfort.

You’d grown up here, in this same cottage by the sea--been raised fishing, hunting for mussels, searching through tide pools. You and your siblings would bike into town to sell your wares at the local market before heading down to the pier to watch the boats come and go. It was a simple life, sometimes a little isolated, but it was good nonetheless. You loved the island and the ocean, and held great respect for them both. If you honor them, they will honor you--at least, that’s what your mother always said.

Your siblings grew up and moved to the mainland, but still you stayed. Got yourself a little apartment in town above the local grocery, worked at the marina as a clerk, and visited your parents on the weekends. When your mother passed, your father followed just weeks later—a broken heart, everyone said. Suddenly, your beloved little slice of heaven—of home—belonged to you.

So you moved back into the cottage you grew up in, a place haunted by the ghosts of memories and the sounds of the sea. If you’re being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, no matter how many times you pretend to entertain your siblings’ urging to rent the place out. Think of all the money you’d make. It’s the perfect vacation spot.

Maybe so, but you don’t care. You don’t want strangers in your home—not those tourists who come to fawn over the village, who eat up the landscape with cameras without really seeing it, who gawk at the fishermen, who laugh at the prices at the market. They would probably call your cottage quaint and cute. You could picture them tittering over your family photos on the mantle, over the door frame where heights had been marked over the years.

Tourists, who both long for and pity an isolated life on the ocean. Oh, they have it so easy here, away from the stress of the city. Oh, could you imagine living this way, barely scraping by?

No, you didn’t want them in your home, a place so sacred. You didn’t care what money you were missing out on—you got by fine with your pay from the marina, and picking up shifts at the local cafe. You loved your cottage—savored every creaky floorboard, every leaky windowsill. The drip of the bathroom faucet, the howl of the sea wind through the chimney—these were the sounds of familiarity, of safety. No one would appreciate them like you did.

Twisting around in bed, you turn your gaze towards the open window that was letting in a fresh, salty breeze. It was early, the light still dim and grey, the air a little chilly. It makes you want to curl back up under your covers, catch a couple more hours of shut-eye. It was your day off, after all; you could afford to sleep in.

Except.

You sigh, scrubbing your hands over your face as you remember what your yesterday brain had planned. You’d told yourself you’d get up in order to gather mussels at low tide. There were plenty of tide pools around, especially in the caved area of the cove. It was your family’s little secret—the hidden grotto was all but invisible from the outside. The only reason you even knew about it was because your brother had been too adventurous for his own good as a child, always getting into places he shouldn’t.

Mussels, clams, seaweed, probably fish in the deeper tide pools—maybe some sea urchin you could sell at the market. Your stomach growls.

Well, that’s that.

Groaning, you haul yourself up and out of bed, wincing at the cold hardwood on your bare feet. You bounce on your toes, shivering, goosebumps appearing on your skin as you pad over to close the window. Despite growing up here, you were always surprised at the temperature. You stubbornly let in the breeze at night, all bundled up under your covers, pretending when you woke it would be nice and warm.

But nope, not here; even in the dead of summer the mornings were chilly. Sometimes you dreamed that you lived on one of those big, luxurious, heated beaches—hot sun and white sand as far as the eye could see, no craggy cliffs or rocky shores. Eh. You probably wouldn’t like it much anyway, too used to your own environment.

Glancing at the clock, you quickly throw on some warm clothes, half-assing your regular morning routine before grabbing your tide-pool hunting essentials: a flashlight, knee-high waders, a large bucket, and your trusty fishing knife. You take a deep breath at the front door, bracing yourself for the chill. Just think of the feast you’ll have later. And you can reward yourself with a hot bath and long nap.

It’s not too long a distance from the cottage to the rocky shoreline, and while the low tide has revealed the tempting sand leading towards the rolling waves, you head towards the jagged outcropping to the left. Years of following the same path means it doesn’t take you long at all to find the hidden entrance and carefully make your way into the cavern.

In the middle of a sunny day, light shone in through various cracks in the ceiling, glinting off the water and creating flickering reflections against the stone walls. Sometimes you came here just to think, or to take a dip in the largest pool. The water was always warmer here, protected from the full power of the currents by the rock face.

Now, however, it was dark—only the dimmest bit of grey morning light trickled in. You flick on the flashlight, humming softly to yourself. The melody echoes off the stone walls, and you set your bucket down at the closest tide pool, readying yourself to hunker down and get to work. The beam of the light scans the various pools as you turn to get your knife from its holder, and something catches your eye. It’s not much, and honestly if you weren’t so familiar with the cave you probably wouldn’t have noticed the dark shape in the far corner pool.

At first, you do a double take, eyes sweeping over the little red-tinged puddles on the floor. Blood. You grip your knife, mind racing with possibilities. Was there someone in here with you? Surely not. No one ever came out here. Swallowing hard, you take a couple steps towards the corner, torch in one hand and knife in the other. As you get closer, your gaze tracks the diluted blood trail into the pool, and at first all you notice is the black scales and fins of a fish. The grip on your knife loosens just a little, the fear of a possible threat fading.

It's a big animal, you can tell that even as you make your way over, and you wonder idly how it got in. You knew, logically, that the cave connected to the ocean somehow, but you can't imagine the tide being so high for a fish as large as this one to find its way into the back corner. You’re focused on this conundrum as you round the ledge that’s been shielding the animal from your full view--so much so that it takes you more than a couple moments for your mind to compute just what it's seeing.

The tail is thick and muscular, decorated in obsidian scales that lead to delicate looking fins at the bottom. There were smaller, fan looking fins on the sides of the tail--they were all ripped up, as if they had been torn in previous fights. Your brain clocks all of this in seconds but doesn’t dwell, because it’s focused on the top half of the animal--creature--merman.

Merman. A fucking merman.

The ebony scales at the waist fade seamlessly into pale skin and lean muscle, revealing a long, firm torso. If you weren’t so aware of the tail, you might--might--think he could pass for human. Well, except for the webbed fingers and razor-sharp nails adorning each of his hands. He’s half submerged in the water of the pool, dark hair covering part of his face so you can’t see it.

You stand there, frozen, staring, not quite knowing what to do. You weren’t… scared; weren’t even very surprised aside from the initial shock of seeing him. You’d grown up hearing stories, traditions, tales—it was more than folklore here on the island. Some of the elders believed in merfolk more than ghosts, more than aliens, more than god.

Mr. Mackenzie told tales of mermaids luring in his shipmates as prey, drowning them. You always thought they were just stories designed to scare children away from dangerous tides—and maybe they were. But other accounts, you weren’t so sure of.

It was the wonder on Ms. Fraser’s face when she recounted the long-ago memory of swimming along sandbars with a girl who could breathe underwater. It was the quiet reverence of Mr. McDougall’s voice when he whispered about removing an old fish hook from a merman’s tail. It was the tears in Mrs. Buchanan’s eyes when she insisted merfolk rescued her husband from a fishing boat wreck.

You believed them. You always had, even if you’d done it silently, bashfully. You knew those who still made offerings to the ocean and to the beings that dwelled within the depths. Your island community believed in things not seen, but passed down through generations of storytelling. It was your history, kept alive despite first hand encounters becoming few and far between.

Except, here it was—your own little slice of history, right in front of you. If you took a couple more steps, you could reach out and touch it.

Is he breathing?

The little voice in your head brings you back down to your body, and a sudden fear overtakes you. You can’t let him die—if he was even still alive to begin with. You glance nervously at the pinkish trail of blood leading to the pool; the sight makes you reach some sort of resolve.

Hyper-aware of the claws on his hands, you kneel down beside him, hesitating only briefly before you settle your hand on his large bicep. He doesn’t stir, and your stomach twists unpleasantly. Your hand slides down to his wrist, and while you can admit you aren’t an expert on merfolk anatomy, surely you’ll be able to feel a pulse from the spidery blue veins under his pale skin.

Relief washes over you in a wave when you do, indeed, find a pulse—slow, but strong. Okay, not dead then. Still, he doesn’t move, so you take it upon yourself to move his damp hair out of his face, curling it behind his prominent ears.

He’s handsome.

You feel yourself flush, immediately chastising yourself for the thought. This was—best case scenario—a complete stranger who was wounded and in possible danger. Worst case scenario… you didn’t want to think about. Needless to say, it was no time to be thinking about his level of attractiveness.

You force yourself back into action, cupping his head as you hold your hand under his nose. His breathing is steady, and you gently lay his head back where it rested on the rock ledge. Your fingertips brush against something, and you frown as you realize he has a lump on the back of his skull—as if he’s been hit. You can only hope it hasn’t done too serious damage; it wasn’t like you could really take him to the hospital.

Your attention moves down his body, and you make yourself bypass the gills in his neck in order to properly gauge his wounds. Minor cuts and scrapes littered his skin; from the number of scars decorating his form, you figure these aren’t a big deal, no matter how nasty they look. Not compared to the gash on his side, at least.

You wince when you see it, the delicate flesh torn open and ragged. The cut makes you think it’s from some man-made weapon, and you shake your head in disbelief. Who would want to harm a merman? Around here, it would be blasphemous to do such a thing.

Blood no longer seeps from the wound; you hope that’s a good sign—and that the salt water has somewhat cleaned the area. You think it may have needed stitches, but you’re no doctor with the ability to do such a procedure. If you're being honest with yourself, it’s probably far too late for stitches anyway. The wound would be another nasty scar, likely similar to the one marring his face, but the area isn’t red with infection. That’s a good sign, right?

You sigh, feeling helpless. You want to do something for the creature. There’s only one thing you can really think of. Chewing on your bottom lip, you study his face again. He still seems unresponsive, and you can only hope he stays that way a little longer.

The short trek back up to your home feels the longest it’s ever been, and your legs and lungs are burning by the time you rush through the front door, having run the entire way. You heave in breaths as you pack some supplies into a bag. It wasn’t much, but you should be able to use the waterproof gauze and antibiotic ointment to dress the nasty-looking scrapes on his hands and chest.

You hesitate for a moment before going into your bathroom and grabbing the waterproof pillow you had in the tub. Maybe it was silly, but you hated thinking about him lying on the hard ground for fuck knows how long. You almost grab some food for him—maybe the fish currently thawing in your fridge—but you decide not to. You weren’t sure what he ate, and there was no telling when he’d wake up anyway.

Your breathing has just settled back to normal by the time you’re jogging back to the cave, careful not to slip on any of the wet grass and rocks. The sun starts to peak out of the morning clouds, letting pale beams of light warm the grey morning. The cavern is illuminated slightly better when you enter; you find you can lay the flashlight at a distance and see just fine.

The merman is still asleep, and you feel a little relieved. You aren’t exactly sure what will happen when he wakes up—for all you know, you’ll return later in the day to find him gone. As it is, you plop down next to the pool he was in and get to work patching him up the best you can.

Taking the towel you brought with you, you dab at his scrapes, trying to dry them a little before applying the ointment and then carefully using the gauze to cover the wounds. His palms are so torn up that you wrap them completely, your brows knitted the entire time. It must hurt, but still, he doesn’t stir.

Finally, you’re left with the gash in his side. You debate with yourself as to whether you should cover it or not—if you even can. The front of his torso was out of the water with the way he was laying, but that could change at any second, and any real pressure on his body would cause him to sink into the pool.

Your urge to help him wins out in the end, and you decide you’ll try to bandage it to protect it from any further irritation, despite knowing water would seep in regardless. You lean forward, extra careful not to lose your balance as you pat at his pale skin with the towel once more. It’s an awkward angle and slow work, you trying your best to be gentle with him.

You add as much ointment as you dare to the bandaging, not wanting to put too much onto an open wound, before fixing the gauze to his torso with some waterproof medical tape. There. Sure, it wasn’t going to work a miracle but at this point you weren’t sure what else to do.

He’ll be okay, you tell yourself. He’ll be okay.

You take a moment to watch the rise and fall of his chest, reassured by the movement. Your gaze again drifts to his tail in fascination—you hope that, maybe, you’ll come back later and he’ll be awake. Maybe he’ll be friendly, maybe the two of you can talk. It’s illogical, you know. This wasn’t some fairytale, this was real life. You honestly just hoped he didn’t try to rip you to shreds on sight.

It’s with this thought in mind that you shift away from him, telling yourself you can’t sit and watch him all day. You have several other pools to collect mussels from, breakfast to cook, chores to do. You’ve done enough, and you have to trust that his body will do the rest—you refuse to entertain the idea that he might not make it.

Sighing, you pull yourself further away, but then remember the pillow you’d brought along. You grab it quickly before shuffling back towards him. He’s got a large lump of seaweed shoved haphazardly under his head in what you assume was a desperate attempt to soften the rock face underneath.

His damp hair is surprisingly soft when you gently lift his head to clear the ground of debris. You can’t help but run your fingers through it gently, brushing it behind his ears, almost trying to soothe his subconscious. You settle the small foam pillow in place, and slowly let his head and neck rest against it. You hope it makes some sort of difference, though you know it might be a childish thought.

Your task finished, you force yourself away from him once more, even though you suddenly ache to continue touching him. Picking up your things, you continue on your mission of prying mussels from each tidepool. You move slower and quieter than you normally would, shooting the merman furtive glances every few seconds.

By the time you’re finished with the last pool, you can’t find an excuse to linger any longer. He was as safe as he was going to be. The only thing left to do now was wait. You spare your new charge one last lingering look, then grab your things and head back to the house.

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#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x fem!reader #kylo ren x afab!reader #kylo ren #kylo ren fic #merman!kylo #merman au #multi chapter #tori writes #feedback always welcome & appreciated!

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

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two tails | reader x minho |

Three

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, floristnpunk!jisung, gradstudent!jeongin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot driven, gradual romance, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of previous kinda sad relationships

Word count: 5.4k (y e e h a w)

Tagging: @lauraneuuh

Chapters

P | ONE | TWO | THREE | ?

zeal noun

: eagerness and ardent interest in the pursuit of something: fervor

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Seungmin never liked your cooking, or at least, he’d often mumble this into his spoon while beginning his second serving. He was probably just being nice, or respectful. Your best friend of four years had never been less.

Aside from the fact the he had a 70 pound golden retriever, never had you once seen a strand of that golden hair cling to the cloth of his winter coats. In the autumn, he would drive you in his hand-me-down ‘91 Mitsubishi to the city where you would tutor the English students just so you wouldn’t have to bear the cold of the subway. In the summers he would toss soju down his throat with you, sitting on the carpet of your living room and turning his head to the side with a hand raised to hide his glass. In the spring, he would remember your birthday--several months before his--and take you to coffee shops and bookstores, then the grocery store (which he knew you hated) and would buy for you the most expensive beef he could find.

You would cook the meat for the two of you, and he would say that he liked it...even if you had charred it black on the edges.

Seungmin flicked at the little aluminum tab on his beer can while he watched you murder yet another plate of perfectly fine vegetables on your stovetop.

“At least it smells nice.” You flipped the circle of white onion.

“It does.” He returned, nonchalant, flicking the beer tab a little poink.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet. Too tired to complain about those dicks from the marketing team? They put you on a shitty pitch again didn’t they?”

“Every pitch is a shitty pitch there. God, you wouldn’t believe the kinds of slogans that they make me say sometimes. It’s humiliating.”

“Hey, you’re the one that took the pay raise over that job at that high school.”

“Well, you didn’t have rent staring you dead in the face and a dog that’s practically active and sentient enough to be a real child.” He slugged down a sip of his drink. “I’m a single father you know.”

“As if!” You choked out your laughter. “Since when did you turn into Hyunjin? You were never one for dramatics anyway.”

“Go get your vegetables, they’ll burn.” He nodded his head to the stove. The thing was, they were already burnt.

You salvaged what you could of the vegetables then placed them over your rice balls (not intended to be balls in the first place) and the chicken strips which had undoubtedly been seasoned just a little too much. You slid the ceramic bowl in front of him. At least it was steaming. That was a good sign.

Seungmin nodded a little in thanks, then let out a less than obvious sigh before taking his first bite.

“Spicy...but good.”

The way that his breath sounded thin made it convincing enough to you that it wasn’t just “spicy.”

He scrunched up his face in that adorably puppy-like way that you had long gotten used to.

“Really. Tell me. It isn’t the pitches. Don’t pretend like I can’t read you.”

Your best friend squeezed his eyes shut with a rather generous slug of his beer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whaaaat?” You whined a little while opening up your own can. “Oh my god. It’s that girl from the art division. She has a boyfriend doesn’t she? Dammit.”

“No.” Your friend drew the disdain in his eyes up to you from the chicken that had made his nose start to run. He wiped at it quickly.

“I hope it’s not my mother that’s getting to you. She’s too damn nosy for her own good and twice as cocky as she should be. Don’t listen to her. What did she tell you anyway?”

Seungmin poked at his food with his fork then twisted a crispy-tipped red pepper. “Have you talked to him again?”

“--Minho?”

You shied at the memory of meeting him on his morning run two days prior. He would go out at nearly 8:00 on the dot every morning, just when the sun started to peek into the dewy pink and blue mornings.

“You should put on a sweater if you’re going to get up this early for those plants of yours. Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Yes.” You answered your friend. A tiny ache pinged at your chest--and it wasn’t the kind that felt all twisted. “He asked me to watch the meteor shower with him this weekend. I hope I can cook something edible for him.”

Seungmin’s knee bounced, “Aren’t you at least at little suspicious of him?”

“Suspicious? Why would I be?”

“You hardly even know anything about him, or where he came from, what he does for a living--”

“--Now you’re starting to sound like my mother Seung. Relax. Besides, sometimes it doesn’t take much to feel...comfortable around a person. I mean, look at us! Soju nights started like, three weeks after we met. And I do know where he works. He works for a company that makes windows; fancy ones.”

“Windows?” He cocked a brow.

“He did say that it was kind of boring...”

“I just--” Your friend sighed out, resting anxious hands on his knees. Here he was again, being nice and respectful, like always. “--You could get hurt if you’re not careful.”

“What?”

“I’m saying, don’t get your hopes up.”

“Geez Seung...” Your voice trailed off with a different pain in your chest. This was the kind that twisted.

His expression softened, and he lent a hand to your shoulder, lingering, squeezing lightly. “Your mom...she told me to look after you...not like I do that already with you falling all over yourself and burning things...I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Hm. Thanks.”

“You’re also miserable to deal with when you’re sad. You make me blow my grocery budget with how much frickin’ ice cream and freezer tater tots you force me to get.”

“You like those tater tots too though.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Bomi purred in your lap swaddled into a little ball of white, orange, black and brown. She was napping, or rather, trying to nap with the way that her little cat-shaped eyes blinked slowly. You tried your best to soak every little moment of it up: you knew that with her, it would be fleeting. There was something supremely calming about being close to your little furball like this. After all the love that you poured over her in the form of useless cat toys and new cat food every week, this somehow made it all worth it.

You tapped lightly at your keyboard, not too harshly, just lightly enough so that you wouldn’t startle your sleeping cat. The tips of your toes were cold, but you didn’t dare to move to grab a blanket to ruin the moment. Outside, a light spring rain befell on your small cement patio. Droplets of the warm showers patted at the roof of your home softly.

Your eyes had grown tired and dry at this late hour, but the end of the chapter was near. One more time you hovered your mouse over the little notification bar, clicking at it for that one last push of motivation:

Bomi needs to quit MESSING AROUND. Blaze is right in front of her!!! Ahhhh I want them to get together soooo bad

Is Herbie okay?? Poor bb, its so cute how we would do anything for Bomi.

Bomi:

Blaze:

*now kiss*

Are we really getting to the end of Book 1??? This has been such an amazing story N/n, I always look forward to your updates <3 they make my Thursdays hehe

I can feel like something big and bad is coming...oh no...I hope that Blaze and Bomi make it through

A thankful little chuckle hummed on your lips, then you pressed enter to start a new paragraph.

“Oh Bomi,” You exhaled, “If only Blaze knew how you felt too.”

Chapter 27

...The group journeyed through the cavern with flickering white flames dancing and casting shadows on the stone walls dripping in stalactites. Bomi held on to the hilt of her sword tighter with a sense of dread creeping up her throat. Blaze looked onward, much as he had been doing these days.

His leg was wrapped in a bloodied bandage: a reminder of the battle won against the Boar in Hilgram. He had jumped in front of her as he had countless times before.

“Hello??” Blaze’s voice echoed against the long and winding chambers of the cave. In his tone he was confident, but his shoulders still shook with an uncertainty.

Herbie’s little hedgehog feet patted the damp floor, and he looked up at his Princess with fear in his soft black eyes. The little velvet banner wrapped around his body had been torn and tattered from one too many battles.

Had it been darker, Bomi wondered if she had reached out for Blaze’s hand to find in him. She shook her head with her resolve, eyes painfully shut. It was only in the darkness that she allowed herself to want for him.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Today must be one of those spring-summer days.

Your warbled reflection chased after you in the blue glass of the university’s library windows. You had hoped that no one was on the other side watching you as you wrinkled up your nose to look like one of those devilish gargoyles that you had been writing of the night before. From the inside, rows and rows of books were lined up perfectly, however there were almost no students inside. It always did make you a little sad how few students would be there when you clocked in for your mandatory office hours.

Spring-summer days meant that the businesswomen on the sidewalks had exchanged with trousers with flowing skirts and little clicky ballet flats and each businessman had his tie and collar tugged down. There was a comforting warmth to the spring air that reminded you of your own college days when you and your friends--long gone now--had stayed up late to study, then would scour the buzzing streets for snacks. Things were much simplier then.

At the library’s entrance, budding tulips and geraniums of light purple hues were greeted by round bumblebees. Had the city not been as loud as it was, you could nearly hear the cicadas in the park on the east edge of the shining silver building.

You bowed slightly to the attendant at the desk who always would smile at you with adorable smiling eyes to match. She would often wear earrings of strange shapes that you had never seen before. She wore a lanyard too that had little cat paw prints decorating it; it was because of this you knew she was someone you could trust.

“Are you having a nice week?” You said to her customarily.

“Oh, I am. It’s always the same around here. My daughter will be having her baby soon! Sometimes I think that I’m more excited than she is.”

“You’ll have to tell me when that happens so I can bring her a gift, okay?”

The attendant smiled warmly, and nodded you off with a little oh, you don’t have to.

“Remember your key card this time?” She watched as you jingled around your own keys with the obsessive amount of plastic and silicon keychains.

You tsked. It seemed like nearly everyone in your life had now known how forgetful you tended to be sometimes.

“Yes. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be over there.”

Once more the two of you exchanged little bows and you made your way over to the back of the four storied library with the atrium of trees in between. There was a marble fountain encircled by the trees that had little oval shaped leaves. Two tiny birds, all black, bounced from branch to branch. It was your secret, but you had written about that fountain many times in your writing, but you were the only one who knew that it was real.

You tapped the reader to hear that familiar do-do doot along with the flash of the green lock. As always, the study room was a bit messy with eraser shavings sprinkled about and the odd dry marker laying next to the trashcan where someone had tried to toss it in, but had missed. The minute hand on the wall clock scooted right on to the 12.

“Are you busy?” That fluff on white hair peeked into your study room just like clockwork.

“For my favorite student? Do you even have to ask?”

Jeongin, the oldest and most attentive student in your class hopped in with his adorably boy-ish charm. Regardless of the fact that he was in the last year of his grad degree, it was impossible for him to look that old. You didn’t have the heart to tell him, but he technically shouldn’t have been in your class for undergrads, but you weren’t going to stop him.

“Why’d you decide to take this class anyway?” You would ask him.

He’d answer, “For fun.” with that cute little smile of his.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“I just got here.” You pulled out a seat for him.

“Oh. Good. I was wondering if you could proof read my short story again. I’m having trouble with the ending. I just don’t think I understand all the way how to make it full circle like you said in lecture.”

He unzipped his leather backpack: obviously a gift from someone in his family that must have thought it would make him look his age. It didn’t. What didn’t help further was how he had adorned it with all kinds of keychains; much like your own keys. It was because of this that you knew he was someone you could trust.

His manuscript already had dozens of scribbles in his own handwriting with tons of question marks riddling the margins.

“Let me take a look.”

You skimmed the pages of the short story--one which you had already read the week prior--for all of his new edits. The notes made it a bit hard to read, but you were used to how he would make a mess of his papers now. He leaned in close to you with glossy eyes that might have even twinkled a little like a cartoon. Both of his knees bounced furiously while he watched you read, and would look from the paper, to your face, then back to the paper, then back to your face...

“Is-is it good? Better?”

Jeongin had written a love story. His first one that you had known of. It was about a boy and a girl who had met on an airplane, and had been seated together. The two of them found out that they had shared so much about their two lives without ever meeting until this very moment. They had realized they went to the same high school, worked in the same building, and were travelling for the same reason: to meet up with someone that they had once loved. It was beautiful, tragic, and in some ways, familiar.

“I think that it’s wonderful Jeongin. The edits that you made to it from last week really help with the narrative flow as well as the vertical plot. You’re really good at asking the deeper questions behind the piece like “why are they really there,” and “why is it important that they are there.” All you need to do is tie it up.”

“But howwww?” Jeongin slumped in his wheely chair. “What should I say?”

“Well...” You tapped your pen to your lip. “The ending scene is when they land at the airport right? Why don’t you have your main character say something that calls back to all of their similarities and makes it seem like they’ve known eachother all along?”

“But I don’t want it to seem like they’re going to forget eachother.”

“They won’t. You established that they’ve both found something different than what they were looking for in the first place.”

Your student’s face tangled up into concentrated knots and he puffed those thin strands of bleached white hair away from his eyes.

“I could say...‘see you at home’? Or...maybe that’s too cheesy--”

“--No it’s not! If you like it, I think that it also fits the story well. Its like, now they understand, and they’ve got something in eachother now that they hadn’t had before; also juxtaposing with your themes of travelling to make a reference to home.”

“Damn, you’re much better at this kind of stuff than I am...” Jeongin wrote down the new ending on his print out.

“Its just...what I like to do.”

“I’m glad I came.” He grinned out with his mischievous and trademark smile. “How’s your story going by the way? Almost finished?”

“Oh...”

A heat rose in your cheeks. You had decided to tell Jeongin about Princess Bomi a few weeks back, but you had neglected to tell him exactly what the story was about. That was a secret better kept to yourself.

“Its...good. I think. My readers seem to really like it.”

“Maybe you’ll let me read it someday. I bet there would be tons of other people who would like to read it too, you know, outside of the internet.”

“That’s what I’ve been told...” Hyunjin’s urgings echoed in your head. “Maybe...” Your eyes wandered to those scribblings of his. “How about we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?”

“Once we get both of our stories sorted, lets submit them together. I’m sure people would like to read yours too.”

“Mine?!” Your adorable student’s face flushed as deeply pink as the sweater he wore. “Oh no, no no no no no.”

“I’m telling you it’s good! Its relatable, raw, well written. It never hurts to try. How about submitting it for the literary journal they do at the end of the semester?”

“You mean the one that all the arts majors read and fuckin’ eviscerate?? Hell no.”

“Hey, I could get eviscerated too by my chief editor.”

Jeongin gulped with his terrified, brown, cartoon-character glistening eyes boring holes into his manuscript.

You sang, “~Wanna go down together~?”

“A-as long as we’re going down together...I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“Alright then!!”

He made a little sound of disgust, then shoved his papers back into his much-too-old-for-him bag. “That was all I needed to ask you for. Thank you.” He bowed with respect. “I won’t be bothering you for too long today.”

“You wrote a good story Jeongin.”

“Mm. Thank you.” His smile turned into a tiny flustered line.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

STUPID NEW CAT FOOD. AGAIN.

In one hand, you held the crinkled up grocery list with angry doodles of your cat folded into the corners of the page. You didn’t quite know if cats had eyebrows like the ones you had drawn onto your cat’s smug face, but you were for certain that this cat must’ve had them...and they were angry.

Bomi had selfishly decided at the end of your week that she no longer liked the last brand of cat food that you had found on the shelves of the grocery store. It was the brand stored next to the one that you had nearly concussed Minho with.

You were at your wits end. There must have been something wrong with your cat--to hell with her being a picky eater. Maybe she really was just a little alien inside there. A little alien that hated cat food. The image of you sitting at your dining table across from Bomi eating two plates of people food crossed your mind. She picked up the fork with her white paw and dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin. The idea didn’t seem the most out of reach.

In your other hand was your phone opened to the maps app with the small blue dot leading you to the specialty pet store.

“Damn spoiled, stuck up, good for nothing, pain in my as--”

“Hey! Blossom??”

Your head whipped around so fast you cracked the bones of your neck with a startling pop. You rubbed at your neck to ease the pain.

“You okay?”

At first you figured you must have dreamt him up in your neck-induced-pain. You cursed at your overactive imagination, still just as strong as it was when you had been small.

Blaze in the flesh he was alllll the way from his battered Converse to his stupidly handsome curly hair.

You laughed out incredulously with a hand still glued to the back of your neck.

“Didn’t think that I would be seeing you around here again. Or at least, I was kind of hoping that I would.”

He marched right up to you with that same smile you had pictured on Princess Bomi’s companion countless times before. Today he wore a leather jacket over the arms that you knew were covered in all kinds of flowers and vines. It hadn’t quite hit you yet that he had said he was hoping to see you.

“Sorry if I startled you. I was just...really surprised.”

“You’re fine, it’s fine.”

You neck didn’t tell you it was fine.

“What are you doing around here?”

“Pet store.” Was all you could get out. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you, but for someone who worked at a flower shop, he did end up smelling an awful lot like flowers. It was a sweet aroma, much like your garden.

“Ahh, I just got off.”

You walked on, also not noticing that he had started to follow you a couple steps behind.

“I realized I didn’t get your name last time.”

“Oh. It’s Y/n.”

He hummed with a smirk. “I do kinda like Blossom more.” He crammed his hands into his pants pockets with a wistful little sigh. “Pretty nickname for someone as pretty as yourself.”

“Psh. Stop.” You had said it sarcastically, but you didn’t intend for your heart to skip as harshly as it did when he had said so.

“You’ve got a pet then? Dog? Cat?”

“Cat. Just one.”

“I wish I could take care of a pet like that. Don’t think I would be too good at it though. I see myself as more of a plant person. They’re quiet, don’t do too much, and they sort of love you back in their own way.”

“How's that?”

“By growing. And flowering. Changing colors and looking good in your windowsill. Nothing too crazy.”

“I...guess I can see what you mean.”

He flicked at the black hoop pierced into his lip in the way that you certainly hadn’t forgotten; and you were one for forgetting much.

“Mind if I go in with you? I don’t have a whole lot going on.”

Jisung. You had also remembered his name. He carried Blaze with him in the way that he had that fiery glint in his eye like he knew he was getting away with something. He was brash and forward, and charming as all hell. The sunset of blood orange and cotton candy pink seemed to melt into his shoulders where he stood before you in the golden hour of the evening. A yellow carnation was tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

“You don’t have to...”

He had already made up his mind, and swung open the door to the pet shop neighboring the floral shop. You didn’t know how you had missed it.

The squawking of birds chimed with the bells hung over the shop door.

“You coming?” He held it open for you.

You sheepishly entered before him, nearly tripping on the little incline to the entrance and catching yourself three seconds before disaster.

Jisung prompted, “Lead the way.”

Normally you would have been concerned over the cleanliness of the store, but that seemed insignificant compared to the way that he looked around all in his Blaze-like wonder. He widened his eyes at the rows of fish tanks and twiddled with the little feather cat toys at the ends of the isles.

Granted, he seemed much more immersed in the kinds of aquatic plants and moss balls that they had rather than the cute bunnies and mice, but still, you couldn’t help but shy away when he caught your glances.

“Glad that I joined ya Blossom.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

There was something about Minho that felt like a lullaby. He wore a lavender colored sweater when he arrived at your doorstep: of course it was pooling into paws at his hands as always. The collar dipped deep enough for you to see the tops of his collarbones, and they were gorgeous and curved. His eyes wrinkled a little under his wire framed glasses when he would smile: that of which would also look like the little grin of a bunny. Effortlessly his brown hair kissed his forehead.

He would speak softly and carefully, and listen to everything that you had said to him as if it was the most important thing in the world. His feet were too big for your spare pair of house slippers and he had a tiny hole in his khaki pants right by the waistline. Minho greeted Bomi with a tiny “aigoo” and she let him sweep her up into his arms where he bounced her lightly. She would never let you do that. Traitor.

“Your home is very...you.” He had complimented. You had no idea what that meant.

His lips were pink and glossy with drips of that peach soju that you had bought in the hopes that he would like it. It turned out that it was his favorite flavor.

You wanted so badly to kiss the peachy flavor off of those lips.

He had laughed a little at your array of cat-related home decor, laughing the most at your dish towels that had two fat cats on them that looked like chefs. He said that he had seen a movie once and the characters reminded him of that.

The two of you sat outside on your patio on the wire chairs that would imprint designs into the back of your legs. The air mixed with the smell of your citronella candle and the scent of the roasted duck that you had attempted to make for him. You really shouldn’t have tried to make something for the first time when it was also his first time coming over.

Maybe he was just being nice, but he had said it tasted good.

It did not taste good, but rather harshly of salt and too much rosemary.

Bomi rubbed at his legs under the table and even hiked herself up on two feet to peek into his lap. As much as it hurt to see your traitorous cat act this way, it was because of this that you knew he was someone that you could trust. Minho gave her head scratches and insisted to help you with the dishes--a mistake on his part. It took all of two minutes before you had a mishap with the detachable sink head, and soaked through his sweater.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t trust you with water then?” He chuckled while dabbing away at the fabric.

“That probably would be best.”

Minho was a lullaby in the way that he laid down next to you on that quilt you had made in a crafting class some years ago. All of the patches were disjointed the the color scheme made very little sense, but it was stull functional. He kept his hands folded to his chest with reverence. His chest rose and fell calmly, and his body heat floated over to you. His presence was something familiar and still something that you couldn’t place.

“Are you getting tired?” He asked you gently.

You lied, “No, just resting my eyes.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have had that much soju then.” He joked into the open air.

“How much longer?”

“At least thirty more minutes.”

He was so warm. Warmer than any chill of the spring night.

First you would have kissed the peachy flavor on his lips. Then you would have cuddled all up into that lavender sweater which you imagined to be even softer than cat’s fur--or rather--it looked like it could have been.

“Do you know any constellations?” Minho pointed up to the sky.

“Not really.”

“Well, that one is Ursa Major...and over there...that’s Leo. Can you see that it sort of looks like a triangle?”

“Yes.” You had said, but really you didn’t have a clue, you liked it more hearing him talk about them. “Where did you learn about constellations?”

“Long time ago. I think it was in school, but, that was so, so long ago.”

The cool grass under the quilt rustled when he had leaned back up to sit, then dragged quilt attempt #2 over your body and his.

“It was getting a little cold.” He quietly announced.

His simple action of doing just that heated up your whole body now knowing that the two of you were trapped together, inches apart.

Minho tucked his arms to prop up his head. “Thank you for cooking for me. I haven’t had someone other than my mother cook like that for me in a long while.”

“I’m sorry...I know that it was pretty inedible--”

“--And thank you for allowing me to come over too. I...realize...I don’t really know what I’m doing that well. I kind of invited myself...I hope that I’m not putting pressure on you or anything...”

“--Doing what well?” Your heart leapt into your throat.

“I just haven’t done this in a really long time.”

This.

What the hell was “this?”

“I’m not following...”

“Letting myself do something fun. Something nice and relaxing.”

You had formed a painful little “Oh.” on your lips. Your idea of this was different from his after all.

“--Something nice and relaxing with you.”

Another “Oh.” formed, but this one was a thankful one.

“Can I tell you something?” Minho’s voice was barely in a whisper.

“What is it?” You looked over at him and he was wrapped in the navy blue light of the night. You could have sworn that you could see the faintest inkling of stars in his eyes.

He looked back at you in earnest. “I’ve been...scared, too, since moving back out here.”

“W-why?”

“There was something in me that was telling me that moving out here wouldn’t fix everything, and that I would be stuck forever on those things that happened, and the things that made me unhappy.”

“Minho...what are you saying?”

“-Got my heart broken. Back then. As cliché as the sounds.” He laughed, and it even sounded a twinge embarrassed. “I ran away from it to here. I had figured that it would give me time to get it all back together again.”

“I-I’m so sorry.”

“Running is good and all when you can physically remove yourself from what’s chasing you, but some things...”

Your chest felt heavy. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“You do?”

The first summer cicadas had started their nighttime chant, and their hisses ebbed and flowed like sea waves.

“I feel like...these expectations that my family has of me, my mother...I can’t ever escape them. They’re always there and burned into my head. I think of them even when I don’t want to: get a better job that “contributes”, get married, have grandkids...”

You paused with your own eyes cast up to the sky. The massive expanse seemed unfathomable.

“Why is it that we can’t ever be happy doing the things that are supposed to make us happy?”

The first meteor flew past your eyes with the speed of light, barely slow enough for you to catch it.

The second was a bit slower, and traced after it a millisecond of white spectral dust.

“Did you see that??” Without thinking, you poked once at Minho’s arm.

You couldn’t see, but he had grinned with a weak smile. “I did.”

All at once, the sky was illuminated with brilliant streaks of light and their white hot heads that would fade and dissapear just as quickly as they arrived. They tore through the sky with astonishing speed and you traced the outline of each line as fast as you could.

“There’s so many.” You wondered aloud.

Under the warmth of the haphazard blanket, fingers twisted into yours: careful and tentative, soft and curious.

Minho breathed out, “I feel pretty happy right now.”

124 notes · View notes

one-boring-person · 4 years ago

Note

i...was way too scared to ask you this for a while n you do NOT have to answer this whatsoever, but could you please do a part 3 to the Stand By Me/Lost Boys crossover?? its been living in my head rent-free <33

Aw, please don't be scared to ask me anything! I loved writing those last pieces, and this one was just as fun to do! Thank you for requesting it, I hope you like it!😊💛

I Think We Found A Body (Part Three)

The Lost Boys x Stand By Me

Warnings: blood, swearing

Masterlist

"Where the hell are we?" Teddy is quick to ask as soon as he is awake, the boy struggling to manoeuvre himself into an upright position, panic flooding him as he realises his hands and legs have been tied by a touch piece of rope.

"Some cave. Those men took us here last night, I guess." Chris informs him from his spot across the room, watching as his friend wriggles around on the floor, glad to finally have someone to talk to after spending what feels like an age staring at their sleeping bodies. He had woken up some time ago, unsure of what happened. All he knows is that it had been daylight outside this weird cave, but it had slowly faded into dusk, the interior becoming darker and darker by the minute. He'd tried to wake the others, but with no usable hands that had been very difficult, especially as he hadn't wanted to draw attention to them.

"Huh? Why didn't they just kill us?" Teddy's brow is furrowed as he manages to get himself leaning up against the old fountain behind him.

Chris shrugs, unsure himself why the killers hadn't just slaughtered them all in the dunes.

The two sit in silence for a moment, seemingly considering their options, watching over their unconscious friends idly. Occasionally, Vern twitches in his sleep, his muscles spasming a few times, though Gordie stays still, his narrow body lying limply at the foot of an old sofa. All of them were tied up, and their muscles were starting to protest against this, aches and cramps having settled in a long while ago.

"Jeez, what do we do? We can't stay here, they'll kill us!" Teddy suddenly blurts out, resting his head back against the dented stone behind him, eyes trained on the ceiling, "And I've lost my glasses!"

"Aw, yeah, I totally forgot about that. Can you see anything?" Chris responds, frowning as Teddy gives him a pointed look.

"I'm not blind, I can still see. It's just a bit fuzzy, that's all."

"Right."

"Should we wake the others? We should try and get out before those fuckers come back."

"I'm not sure. I tried to wake you guys earlier, but I couldn't move so it didn't really work." Chris adjusts his position slightly, hands going numb in their position behind his back, "But we could try again. If I come over there, we could try and untie each other."

"Sure." Teddy nods in agreement, sitting more upright as his friend starts to push himself onto his knees.

Awkwardly, the boy shuffles across the small expanse, ignoring the slight burn from the friction on his knees, his movements hindered by the rope around his ankles. Teddy shifts to get into a position where they are back to back, waiting patiently for the other boy to get into place, thinking through a strategy in his head. After a moment, Chris has reached him, and has managed to back himself into position, their hands just touching.

"Ok, you try and untie me." Chris says to him, holding still as Teddy immediately starts moving, fingers pulling at the rope. The knots are tight, and the position is awkward, but Teddy's persistence pays off as the bonds become looser, his fingers grazed and chafed now, though he knows the end result is worth the small pain. It takes a moment, but soon enough the rope drops to the floor, Chris pulling his arms around to his front, rubbing at his wrists as the blood returns to the cramping muscles.

"Come on, do me." Teddy hisses, wriggling his fingers at his friend.

"Yeah, yeah, hang on."

This time the process is much faster, the angle being a lot better for the boy to do what needs to be done. Teddy practically groans when his wrists are released, his skin red and raw from where the bonds had cut into him, his captors having tied the rope on very tightly.

"Help me wake the others. You get Vern, I'll get Gordie." Chris orders him, going to the skinny boy lying a little way away.

Doing so, Teddy carefully shakes Vern's shoulder, giving his face a gentle slap when he doesn't immediately stir. The boy grunts and twitches, eyelids fluttering a little from the intrusive actions. Rolling his eyes, Teddy quickly leans over, placing a hand over his friend's mouth before pinching the skin of his arm, doing it hard enough that he knows the boy will not be able to ignore it. Yelping in protest beneath his hand, Vern wakes up, panic filling his eyes as he glances around, body writhing to get away from who he thinks is his captor.

"Vern, shut up, it's me, Teddy!" His waker tells him, keeping his hand in place until Vern quietens significantly.

"Where are we? What's going on?" He rushes out as soon as he can, eyes wide.

"Those fuckers from last night took us to some cave. We've gotta get out of here, so shut up and let me untie you." Teddy informs him, moving to loosen Vern's bonds, swiftly freeing him.

"We're where?! They're gonna kill us! Oh god, they're gonna kill us!" Vern's eyes quickly fill with tears, but Teddy is quick to reprimand him, forcing him to his feet instead.

"Come on, we haven't got long." Chris hisses from across the room, helping Gordie up as he goes, the dark haired boy blinking blearily in the darkness that has settled into the cave.

Together, the four of them move to what they assume is the entrance of the cave, heading towards the lighter area, excited at the thought of escape. Outside, the sky has turned a deep blue, the moon just visible past the arch that creates the exit of this odd place, the boys unsure of where they are but aware that anywhere would be better than here.

It's just as they get to the very threshold of the cave that they notice the figure standing just past the rock, the trenchcoat and spiked hairstyle very familiar to them. Hearts dropping, the boys stagger to a halt as a low, mocking laugh echoes around them, the silhouette moving towards them, crowding them back into the cave. Terrified, the four glance around to check for other exits, only to notice the three other figures standing around them, eyes glowing as they grin wildly at them, fangs glistening in the dim light as Vern lets out a shrill cry of fear, the others gasping in horror. Pulling them to the side, Chris manages to recover quickly, yanking his friends towards a nearby tunnel, the darkened interior appearing safe to him until a pair of blazing eyes appear in the depths, laughter emitting from inside, taunting voices mingled with the malicious sounds.

Helpless, the four boys stagger back in fear, Gordie making the mistake of glancing upwards, suddenly catching sight of the leering faces above them, blood dripping from exposed teeth, disfigured brows cast in sinister shadows, the hissing chuckles falling from behind the murderous lips instilling an ice-cold fear within him. The boy screams, causing the others to look up and scream with him, all four falling backwards against the fountain, hands gripping at the rock. A sudden whoop of cruel joy erupts from the space behind them and a familiar blonde springs into view, looming over them as they seek refuge against the dilapidated water feature. His smirk is wide, amber eyes fixed on their paling faces with glee as they all shriek again and stumble to the floor, covering their heads with their hands, the four boys completely and utterly terrified.

As before, smooth laughter fills the air, the four voices easily distinguishable now, their captors coming to stand before them.

"Well that was a lot of fun." The horribly familiar voice of their leader breaks up the humour. Sounds of agreement come from the other three, snickers of amusement following them.

"Fuck you, asshole!" Teddy exclaims, breathing uneven as he looks up, face etched with fear despite his bold words.

"You're a bit young for our tastes, kid." The taller blonde chuckles, smirking down at him.

When silence follows, the four killers simply laugh again, clearly finding it highly amusing that the boys are in distress.

"What? Cat got your tongues?" The shorter blonde comments, biting his thumb as he struggles to hold back his laughter.

"What do you want with us?" Chris speaks up, sitting up beside Teddy.

The four men look at each other, as if conversing in silence, the leader clearly unsure of whether or not to continue.

"Well, to put it simply, we're gonna need your help." The platinum blonde finally explains.

Shocked and confused the boys sit in silence, staring at their captors dumbfoundedly, eyes wide.

"W-what? You want our h-help?" Gordie asks timidly, stammering under the intense stare of the four murderers.

"No, we don't want it, but we're gonna need it." The tall brunette puts in, scrutinizing the boys critically.

"And you lot have no choice in this matter, before you try to worm your way out of it." The leader interjects, going over to sit in an old wheelchair.

"W-what do you need us for?" Gordie asks, more curious now than afraid.

"Oh, you just need to get a kid to like you. After that, you're gonna lure him over here." The shorter blonde shrugs, patching on the arm of the sofa.

"...huh?" Is all Gordie can manage, completely baffled by the instruction. The others are similarly confused, though Vern is yet to look up properly.

The leader rolls his eyes, taking out a cigarette and lighting it.

"You heard what he said. You're gonna go on the Boardwalk and convince this kid to like you. Then you're gonna lure him to us." He clarifies again, inhaling a deep breath of smoke.

"But...why?" Chris chimes in, looking puzzled.

"That's none of your concern." The brunette states, staring down at them.

The boys are silent for a moment.

"Will...will you let us go afterwards?" Gordie asks, Vern looking up at this point.

The leader shrugs, exhaling his smoke into the room.

"Maybe, maybe not. You know too much, but you're too young to be of any other use." Is all he says, eyeing the boys idly.

Their hearts drop in their chests, aware now that they may not get out of there for a long time.

"Ok, what's this kid called?" Chris finally asks, hating himself for doing this.

The four killers smirk, glancing at each other triumphantly.

"Sam." The leader informs them, "Sam Emerson."

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #david(thelostboys)#kiefer sutherland #paul(the lost boys)#dwayne(the lost boys)#santa carla #marko(the lost boys)#star(the lost boys)#stand by me #stand by me imagine

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alolanrain · 5 years ago

Text

Cold

Galar is cold. The coldest Region Ash has ever been to and this is including Sinnoh. He’s wearing his thickest sweatshirt and pants, full on gloves instead of those fingerless ones. Gou is shivering next to him, the mountain dog anthro is still fairing better though since his anthro shift was made for this weather.

Ash’s tail lashed out and then quivered. Wrapping around his stomach and squeezing his middle. Gou eyed Ash, it’s not like Ash even has an inkling of control over his appendages. Ash just wants to get to the hotel and call it a very early night, since it’s only like three in the afternoon.

Their Specifically in Wyndon, for the worldwide Championship that all champions have to be at. Well all this year, the last twelve Ash has been sneaking by with Drake going in his stead but now Lance had put his foot sown firmly now that Ash is a double titled Champion.

“You can explore,” Ash pointed a shaky finger at Gou, Pikachu making it a bit hard with the way he was hunkering down on his shoulder, “I’m going to be taking a long ass nap.”

Gou snorted and rolled his eyes, “yeah, whatever.” He snipped back. Maybe the cold was getting to him more then Ash thought. But that didn’t matter now, getting to a warm room with a fluffy bed is more important.

“How may I help you this afternoon?” The receptionist asked politely. Though she eyed them like they were at the bottom of her shoes. Rich neighborhoods suck. Pikachu bristled slightly but calmed down when Ash pet the back of his partners tail that was on his other shoulder.

“Master suite for Champion Ash Ketchum on the Alt floor.” Ash mumbled. Pulling out his Champion card and putting it in the little machine right next to the computer behind the desk wall. It was custom at this point that every high end hotel had one of these machines to actually check if people were impersonating a Champion or not. Not like it would be easy with all the mythical and strong animal anthro’s on the line up. The only one closest to a plain human was Ash, a simple house cat Calico anthro, even then the red in his fur was so rich in color that the most expensive dye jobs can’t reach it.

“Oh sorry,” the lady was soon loosing her mock happiness, “it doesn’t look like-“

“The lights green.” Ash stopped her. Tiredly looking at the green light on top of the small black box. Not only was the color indicating that he is in fact a Champion, but also that he does have a room rented.

The receptionist grit her teeth in a false smile that faltered as her eyes moved to something with a slight horror on her face.

Before Ash could move, and with the fact that Gou gasped pretty hard right after the change in the Receptionist’s face, a light hand ghosted from the outside of his shoulder over to his neck. Ash unconsciously moved his head when the hand ran up his neck to cup his jaw.

“You’re freezing.” Good old Wallace. Blunt as ever.

“I feel freezing.” Ash couldn’t help the slight whine filtering into his voice. He lent into Wallace’s hand that still cupped his jaw a little and eyes fluttered closed for a few milliseconds before slowly opening again. Pikachu chirped in greeting to the Champion and Wallace moved his other hand to pet under the mouse’s chin.

“Get your room keys,” Wallace motioned you the small envelope, Gou moved and snagged them off the counter, tossing it to Ash who caught it on reflex, “I’ll escort you and your friend up to your room.”

“Thank you.” Ash whispered. Moving to lean into the taller man’s side. Pikachu gave an appreciative chirp when the blue haired man’s warm hand pet down the spine of the yellow Pokémon.

“Thank you, Champion Wallace.” Gou was more formal. Bowing quickly while walking before catching up to the two who stepped into the elevator.

“It’s no problem,” Wallace’s light cyan angel wings spread out a little to cup behind Ash and Pikachu, “I warned Lance this wasn’t the right time to introduce you. You’ll be shivering and teeth chittering the entire time.” He ran the hand behind Ash’s back from the middle of his shoulders down to the small of his back.

Gou eyes the two Champions, mentally stopping himself from asking why their so affectionate with each other. It was answered soon after when the elevator door opened onto the secret floor when they came face to face with the retired Ex-Champion Steven Stone and Champion Alder.

“Ashton!” Alder belowed happily. Moving to allow the trio out into the floor before pulling Ash into a hug. Minding his fluffy tail that spazzed a bit before winding around the man’s thick ankle. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Hi Alder,” Ash sniffed back some snot before moving to curl tighter into the hug, “long time no see.”

“Hello, Ash.” Steven hesitantly reaches out before cupping the back of Ash’s jaw and neck and running his hands up into the semi long hair to brush some hair back. “Your shaking.” Steven frowned.

“I told Lance,” Wallace muttered again while coming closer and pressing a quick kiss into Steven’s hair before facing Ash who was still curled into the hug with Alder, The man never minding how cold the calico anthro is, “but he never listens.”

“It’s because he’s a dragon.” Ash grumbled as he forced himself away from the really warm hug with the gargoyle shifter. “He’s warm all the time no matter what weather, it clouds his judgement.”

“But for twelve years?” Wallace didn’t look to convinced.

“I don’t know,” Ash was fully whining now, “I’m just super tired and really want a bed.”

“Room one hundred and twelve right?” Steven asked. Thumbing at his phone which must have all the Champions room numbers on them.

“Ye.” Ash grunted. Reaching back and grasping for Gou’s hand before trotting behind light gray angel. He didn’t really pay attention to the passing rooms theirs only a few until they reached to the biggest one, which usually goes to Lance since he’s the oldest and the longest lasting Champion

———

It wasn’t long after that when Ash was finally sliding into a big plush bed in his room. Gou right across the hall, the mountain dog anthro had made a point in declaring nap time for him also, so Ash doesn’t have to worry to much in case another Champion or some hotel staff accidentally thinks Gou is sneaking in with a stolen card. Ash doesn’t need a fucking repeat two year ago when he brought Dawn with him that one time to a large scale conference and she was accidentally accused of thieft of Ash’s second key card and trying to sneak into their shared room.

Ash was pretty vicious with both Lance and Drake, who had accused the girl, and publicly dragged their ass’s to the police station to make them pay bail for Dawn. Berating and verbally ripping into the Chinese dragon anthro’s the entire time while sitting next to Alder who drove them there.

He both made them apologize and he and Dawn went to a thrift store to go get some ice cream before heading back to the hotel where they stayed up all night to watch some movies.

The only reason why Brock wasn’t with them was that he already had a room with Misty and another Gym leader that they were friends with on a different floor, floor delta, which is also a secret and private floor for any gym leaders on or off work.

Ash curled his tail tighter around his body, not keen on the cold silk sheets at all, his sock covered feet getting encased most by the multi colored fluff. Sleep was also terrible, which increased Ash’s anger and pushed him to the point where he threw off the covered and hit his hands and legs against the bed like a toddler before getting up and slinging on his sweatshirt from earlier again.

Pikachu blinked lazily you from his spot under the rest of the pillows and half of the comforter. Only stretching and getting out of his half warmth cave because he doesn’t like it when Ash is cold when he isn’t and the way Ash is stalking about looking for some warmer socks he packed made Pikachu anxious. He hopped onto Ash’s shoulders when his trainer offered an arm put after finding said socks and putting them on over his existing ones on his feet.

Shuffling out of his room, Ash’s back met with Gou’s. Making both of them jump and twirl around. Pointing their fingers at each other like the spider man meme.

“Your room cold too?” Gou asked. Floppy ears twitching as he glanced down a millisecond at Ash’s bristling and thrashing tail.

“Iceberg cold.” Ash hissed as he stalked past the mountain dog anthro to go over into the kitchen and the thermostat.

“It’s already at seventy five degrees Fahrenheit!” Ash nearly yowled in rage.

“No way,” Gou trotted into the kitchen and gently shoving Ash away with his shoulders, ignoring the slight hiss and pinned back ears as he looked at the thermo, “holy Arceus you’re not wrong.”

“No shit!” Aah hissed again. Pulling back away from Gou more and going back to his freezing room to snatch his phone of the charger. A loud yowl sounded in his throat as he noticed that it wasn’t even charging.

“My phones nearly dead!” Gou’s voice barked from his room. He must have went to grab his as well.

“Mines at half battery,” Ash convened with him in the middle of the hallway again, “I’ll call Lance to see if he’s up and having the same problem.” No doubt the dragon would be nearly throwing a fit if his heat was shut off and his room freezing cold. Not like it would bother him to much since he has a fire core even if he’s a water dragon, which made absolutely no sense to Ash when he explained it earlier when Ash first came on as his secondary Champion.

Alder would be having a similar problem since he doesn’t retain a lot of heat as well. Cynthia should have no problem since she’s a dragon to and actually is used to the blazing tundras of Sinnoh. Wallace and Steven, even though Steven isn’t a Champion anymore and Wallace just likes dragging his husband to all these events, should be at least okay. Their wings are pretty heat absorbant and should last them a while before they truly got really cold. Four hours into their stay and it’s already been terrible.

Before Ash could even lift the phone to his ears there was a harsh knocking on their hotel room door.

“Sounds like Lance.” Ash grumbled. Ignoring Gou’s bristled shock state at such a harsh sound.

Peeling back his door he was faced by a seething Lance followed by Alder and then even Leon. The Griffin was shuffling his feet and he looked absolutely wrecked, black eye bags and frazzled wings and hair.

“Is your room cold.” Lance snarled.

“Good evening to you too.” Ash hissed back.

“Is. your. room. cold.” Lance turned even a little more violent with his voice.

“Of course it’s cold dipshit!” Ash spat back, “I was about to call you, and ask a bit more politely, if you guys were having the same problem.”

At this Lance tipped his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. Taking a deep inhale that looked like it hurt his lungs before exhaling. “I’m sorry.” Lance muttered. Much more calm and respectful. “I didn’t mean to heat up any anger. I was angry and wasn’t right of me.”

Ash relaxed as well. Letting some of the fight in him slink away in favor but that didn’t stop his tail lashing back and forth. “I’m sorry as well.”

”did one of you check the vents in your room?” Alder pipped up tiredly.

Gou made a nose before pulling back from behind Ash and going to the nearest vent. It was opened and Ash tiredly watched as he crouched down and hovered his hand over the metal.

“Nothings blowing in out sucking out.” Gou informed. Padding back over and taking the time to press his chest into Ash’s side. Going and grabby the calico’s tail and wrapping it around his would fluffy one. He stuffed his face into Pikachu’s fur and the mouse Pokémon papped at the top of his head like an irritated kitten.

Ash groaned and leaned into Gou more, pressing Pikachu between his neck and Goums face more much to the timing ones discontent but he didn’t mutter anything more then a squeak. At least he was warmer then the cold room. He ignored the way Lance and Leon tracked the movement and the way his chest heaved up and down in a very tired sigh.

“How’s Diantha?” Ash asked. Not doubting she wasn’t fairing good at all being a black jaguar anthro.

“Hissing and spitting at anyone who gets to close,” Alder laughed nervously while moving to show the inside of his arm where his sweater sleeve was in tatters with some little blood drops welling up, Good think Alder has very thick skin, “she’s stolen Cynthia and buried herself under their combined blankets and pillows.”

“Sounds like her.” Ash agreed before doing a full body shiver. Tail unwinding from Gou’s tail and thrashing enough that it’s hitting the doorway loud enough to make an auditable thumps.

“Stop that!” Lance growled and moved his hand quick enough to catch Ash’s tail before it thumped against the wall. “I know you’re cold,” he ignored Ash’s hiss and the clawed hand coming down to press his fingernails into Lance’s scaled hands, “but we don’t need you hurting yourself in anger.”

“Much easier said then done.” Ash growled low in his throat. Tightening his hold onto Lance’s hand.

Gou and Pikachu looked wearily from Champion to Champion. Gou for once experiencing one of their ‘legendary’ spats that Ash rarely talks about. Pikachu was looking more towards Alder, hoping that the Rhino anthro would stop this but by the man’s distant look he was going to be no help.

Before anyone could say something else Leon piped up, “I feel like this is all my fault.”

That made everyone pause and turn to stare at him. A mix of confusing and annoyance filtering through their face’s.

“What in the fucking world are you talking about?” Lance asked. Turning more, as much as he can with his arm across his chest in Ash’s hold, to look at the Galar Champion. “You had nothing to do with what’s going on.”

Leon fidgeted even more. Obviously tired and overthinking things, but he carried on. “If I didnt let Rose talk everyone into coming here for the starting ceremony of the worldwide Championship then none of us would be here at this point. No one would be cold, Ash wouldn’t have brought Gou because you wouldn’t have been able to do his long overdo introduction, Alder wouldn’t have gotten his arm scratched by Diantha, and everyone would be relatively okay.”

It took a few seconds for everyone to let the griffins words sink in. But after that they exploded.

“That is so not your fault,” Alder started, “no one would have predicted this happening at all.”

“Alders right!” Lance added, “it’s not your job to leash Rose like that and even then you’re no way responsible for what’s going on.”

Ash sighed heavily. Shoulder slumping as he picked Pikachu off of his shoulder and kinda shoved him into Gou’s arm. Letting go of Lance’s hand as he walked past the two taller Champions and traitor over to Leon. Reaching out with both hands so he could cup the fallen griffins cheeks and make Leon look into his brown eyes.

“Hey,” Ash cooed, “don’t beat yourself up over this. The ceremony would have taken place at another Region and we would all be staying at another hotel, I would have to make my debut anyways an Gou would still be with me since he’s my research partner, the same things that’s happening now?” Aah waved his hands along the darken cold hallway and to the few open door’s that lead into the other hotel room’s, “could have happened the same way like it is now at a different hotel. None of us could have perdicted this would happen.”

“Sorry,” Leon croaked out, wiping away a few tears that were forming in his eyes, “just tired and over thinking everything.”

“I know,” Ash soothed a hand through Leon’s more then usual wild hair, making sure his claws doesn’t catch on a heavy knot or scratch Leon’s scalp, “I am too. We’re all tired but we’ll get through this.”

In truth Ash was already at his fucking limit. It’s to cold and he can feel himself loosing feeling in his tail and ears. His hands shook as he brought them back from brushing Leon’s hair and cradle long his face to clutch them close to his chest. Taking a short breath and exhaling. Suddenly he was made a yelping noise as Leon dragged him into a hug. A hug that somehow made Ash feel safer and was warm. Ash’s face lit up in a blush as he looked up to Leon in a bit of shock.

“Sorry... again.” Leon mumbled into Ash’s own bed head. Hot breath feeling nice against his cold ear even if it did flick itself at the feeling. “You’re probably the coldest one out of us all right now.”

“Diantha is suffering!” Ash protested, “she has shorter fur then I do!”

“But she has Cynthia.” Lance added. Moving to gently slide the tip of Ash’s cat ears between two buckles. The oldest man hissed slightly at the feeling. “Your fucking freezing! Are you sure you’re all right Ash?”

That got Pikachu’s attention and the mouse wiggled out of Gou’s grip and hopped from Alder’s shoulder onto Leon’s. Chirping in worry at Ash.

“I’m good buddy.” Ash cooed. “I’m good.”

Leon draged his large wings over Ash, but not before motioning for Gou also to join. Now that he had the two in his arms Leon seemed to settle down.

“Wallace is trying to figure out what’s wrong, yeah?” Gou hesitantly asked. More concurred in keeping Ash, who started to shake more violently even with Leon’s body heat, warm.

“Along with Steven.” Alder sighed. “But The elevator is broken so they have to walk down thirteen flights of stairs down and up.”

“Why didn’t they ask for Diantha’s Gardevoir?” Ash piped up, looking very unamused, “they could have teleported down there and up in the matter of seconds!”

Lance bit his lips as he made a pointed stare at the floor then swinging it over to Alder who made an even more expressive face.

“Who wants to brave the dungeon?” Lance asked after a few minutes. Looking at everyone who immediately hesitated but one.

———

“Dinatha!” Ash yelled as he barged into Diantha’s suite. The black panther immediately hissed, fur standing on end as she was curled up with Cynthia who had her wings wrapped around the big cat anthro. “We need your Gardevoir!”

“I fucking told Wallace!” Cynthia shouted you the roof immediately after. “That dolt said that it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Diantha kept hissing but Ash’s sudden yowl of anger drowned her out and also surprised her. Blinking in shock her mouth closed with a click!

“Bitch you are not the only one that’s cold!” Ash hissed as he stalked forward to looks for her belt of Poké balls that must have been stashed in the mountain of pillows. “You have a dragon that’s eager to cuddle while I’m stuck with the most touch hating people in the group, get the fuck over yourself and help you useless soft bellied Yamper.”

“Harsh.” Gou muttered behind Ash.

“It’s the fucking truth.” Aah hissed back. Grabbing the Poké ball and calling out Gardevoir.

The physic Pokémon grumbled about being out of her ball. Rubbing her arms over her own shoulders while looking around before turning to face Ash again.

“Hi sweetheart,” Ash chose to be nice and kept his temper down, Dinatha’s Gardevoir wasn’t one to really take shit, “we need you to teleport to Wallace and Steven and then teleport them to the main reception hall if their not already there by now and then teleport them back.”

Gardevoir grumbled loudly at Ash’s request. Scrunching her face to show her displeasure. Making motions with her hands like she was using Kalosian sign language.

“Baby I’m so sorry,” Ash’s shoulders slumped and a weak apologetic smile crossed his lips, “but I can’t make out what you’re saying because we’re both shaking to much.”

The Pokémon grunted before immediately disappearing out of the room and down the hallway.

“Thank you!” Ash cupped his hands around his mouth to yell out to the Pokémon. Who was probably already down in the flight of stairs to check if said husbands were there.

He whipped back around and stepped towards Leon, who still held Gou close, and buried his face into Leon’s own sweater. Opting to keep quite now and save his energy. Though his cheeks were some how permanently stained red at this point.

Gou reaches out and grasped the sweater sleeve of Ash’s elbow, tugging insistently until Ash is curled in his arms and then slept is hugging both of them together. Which was more warm then Leon just holding them by their waists with his wings closed as tight as he could get them around the two.

Lance had moved over to Alder, raising his wings questioning to the Unovian Champion and already rapping his long red scaled tail around the back of Alders ankles. The taller man ducked his head into Lance’s fuffy hair between his two curled horns. Thankful that the Kantonian Champion was willing to share his warmth with the rhino anthro.

It took five minutes for anyone to move next. Leon had moved his arm around Gou, causing Ash to tug Gou closer and lean into Leon’s arm wrapped around his waist, to dig into his pocket to pull out his phone. Thumbing through until he got to his contacts and clicked on one.

It rang three times until the other end came up. Leon put it on speaker phone and sent an apologetic glance towards the two under him that were right next to the speaker end.

“Leon,” a heavy growl sounded through the room, “you better have a good fucking excuse to be calling me at ten at night when you know I’m asleep at this time.”

“Sorry, Rai,” Leon flinched at the angry tone, “we just have a big problem at the hotel we’re staying at, something wrong with the electricity and heat, and we have some anthro’s who can’t really contain heat that well... and I was wondering if-“

“-that I would get up out of my comfy bed and come and help warm some people up?” Raihan injected over Leon’s voice.

“... yes?” Leon phrased it more of a question.

Another growl echoed out of the speaker, both Gou and Ash couldn’t help but flinch at how loud it was. Leon tightened his hold on the two with another apologetic smile that was more a grimace.

“Rai, please?” Leon begged, “two champions are literally about to go feral while another is gonna like... die of being to cold.”

“Damn right!” Ash and Dainatha belted out at the same time. Same tone and everything.

“Arceus. dammit Lee,” Raihan sneered, “You’re killing me here. You’re killing your friend and rival my dude.”

“Please?” Leon doesn’t care if he’s straight begging right now, he really doesn’t want to see Diantha and Ash actually go feral and kill like ninety percent of all league officials.

Another growl, “I’m on my way.”

Leon made a happy griffin noise, wings fluttering a little around the two boys in his arms.

“Yeah, yeah,” Raihan gave a heavy sigh, presumably getting up out of bed, “I’ll be there in like twenty minutes.”

“Thank you Rai!” Leon sighed happily before ending the call. Putting his phone back in his pocket before wrapping his arms around Gou’s back again, giving the boys a squeeze and tucking his head down into Ash’s head only to jerk back a little and blink in shock. “Damn your ears are cold.”

“No shit.” Ash weakly hissed. “We already established that.” He buried his face to try and not to let out a muffled choke as Leon started to massage his ears. Trying to get them as warm as he could.

———

“We’re back!” Wallace yelled out from the hallway, “and we brought a friend!”

Gardevoir teleported into the room and clicked her own Poké ball that Ash had left on the kitchen counter. The physic Pokémon not wanting to be out in the cold any longer and returned to her, presumably, heated Poké ball.

A much taller dude came sliding down the hall and nearly crashed into the doorway, ducking his head and coming into the room. He towered over everyone and his larger dragon wings were tucked close to his back unlike his large tail that dragged behind him.

“Leon.” He grunted.

“Raihan!” Leon beamed before letting go of the two boys and pushing them over to the dragon anthro, “Ash, Gou? This is Raihan! He’ll warm you guys up in no time. I usually use him as a heater as well when it gets super cold here in Galar.”

“Which is like ninety percent of the time.” Raihan pokes his slightly split tongue out at the Galar Champion who did the same before turning back and going over to Lance and Alder. The rhino more the happily greeting the griffin.

Ash squeaked when one of Raihans arms reached out and wrapped around his waist. He looked back over to the dragon who gave him a once over.

“Well aren’t you a cutie.” He purred. Dragging Ash closer until he was tucked against his chest.

Gou was given the same treatment. both of their face’s were burning red, but it wasn’t because of the nice warmth that was radiating from Raihan’s body. Next thing they knew Raihan was sitting down, dragging them as well until they were both settled on both his legs.

“Better?” Raihan asked.

“So much better,” Gou answered, eyeing Ash who just tilted his face more into Raihans warm sweater instead since his face was a blushing mess more so then Gou’s, “thank you Raihan.”

Raihan only hummed. Eyeing Ash’s tail that was still trashing and hitting his arm. “You good there kitten?”

“Uh-hu!” Ash squeaked out. Turning quickly to nab his tail and tuck it close to his chest to keep it from moving anymore. Ash felt so embarrassed as he hid his face more in Raihans, extremely toned, chest.

“Ash is just super tired and cranky,” Gou grumbled, from what Ash could see he was nearly asleep which hes fucking lucky, “he kept getting piles of rain or water dropped on to him, so Ash’s been cold since the moment we left for the airport.”

Gou wasn’t wrong. Ash had somehow continually been getting splashed with water. Be it from trees or accidentally bumping into someone with an open water bottle, Ash was drenched or at least damp most of the day. It’s why he was so cranky when they got to the hotel, Ash was actually looking forward to going out on a sight seeing trip after dropping their luggage off at the hotel, but all he could think about was changing into some nice warm pajamas and sleeping until Lance inevitably knocked on his door to check up on him and Gou.

“Poor kitten,” Raihan rumbled low in his throat, leaning more into Ash and the smaller could feel the dragons muscles shifting under his clothes, “todays just not your day is it?”

“You and Leon are making it better.” Ash said without really thinking. Making the mistake to look up into Raihans extremely pigmented blue eyes, which widened and the pupils dilated.

“Oh really,” The dragon purred out. Leaning down more into Ash’s face. “how so?”

“Leon tried keeping us,” he nodded a little to Gou who was no completely asleep, tail tucked into his lap and looked peaceful, “warm and he called you here to help. By the way thank you for coming, Diantha maybe a pain in the ass while cold but I can guarantee I’m much worse.”

“I’d like to see that.” Raihan sayed. Tilting his head to the side and narrowing his eyes at Ash who blinked wide eyed up at him.

“See what?” Ash cursed silently as his voice cracked a little.

“You all wild up,” Raihan gave him a little heated look, “bet you look hot while mad.”

Ash couldn’t help but snort a little. “I look like a fluffy ball of murder while mad, which is no way hot to see.”

“To each their own.” Raihan shrugged his shoulders and flinched the tiniest amount Ash has seen a person do when Gou made a sleepy whining noise before settling back down.

“So it’s gonna be like this for most of the night?” Diantha’s irritated growl echoed through the open room. Eyeing everyone that was standing around her and Cynthia in their pillow mountain.

“Most likely.” Wallace huffed. Wings starting to shake at the tiniest bit. “It’s only really our level and half of the Delta level, so most of the current gym leaders staying here tonight are good with bunking up with one another even more.”

“So we’re just stuck with the cold?” Ash asked. Reaching up for one of his numb ears and rubbing his pads into them, trying to stop them from aching so much.

“Again,” Wallace sighed, giving Ash an apologetic and worrying look, “most likely.”

Ash made a loud whining noise and curled up tighter. Shoving his face into Raihan’s hot skin of his neck that was open and uncovered from his sweater. The dragon hissed in shock and flinched away a little from Ash’s cold face.

“Sorry.” Ash muttered before pulling his face back down and rubbing it into Raihan’s, much less, warm sweater.

“S’okay,” Raihan was quick to answer, Tucking Ash and Gou more into his chest and even bent his head down to rub his face into Ash hair and ears, “don’t mind it at all, Kitten.”

Ash only hummed. Tilting into Raihan’s down right nuzzling fest and rubbing his own cheeks back against Raihan. Tonight’s gonna fucking suck but at least it’s not gonna be to bad.

Though Ash does wish he had taken a hot shower before throwing pajama’s on and sliding into that cold torture of a bed.

#wolfy writes #ash ketchum #gym leader raihan #champion leon #champion lance #champion diantha #champion alder #champion cynthia #gou #champion wallace #steven stone #dawn #pikachu #rose #oleana #not your average calico!au

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calumrose · 5 years ago

Text

Trigger [Police/Gang!AU] Chapter 2 || C.H

A//N: Chapters get a bit bigger from here on out so I hope that’s all good. I know I probably should have cut them down and maybe broken up the story better but then later I’ve got a BIG chapter and it’s all one scene so it would be even weirder I think.

Some people like big blocky chapters, and others don’t. So, I suppose it’s just down to personal preference.

Anyway, I have no self-control so here’s chapter 2 because I’m in a really good mood. I hope you enjoy! Again, feedback is greatly appreciated!

Word Count: 11.2k

Summary: Eloise Gray and Calum Hood, not two people you would ever think to put together. What started as a ploy for power turned into a romance, resulting in the realisation that loving your enemy may not be such a bad thing after all.

Previous Chapters: Prologue / Chapter 1

Her head felt as though someone had just caved it in with a 10-kilo dumbbell, the ache setting in with great impact as her eyes barely opened to stare up at the beige ceiling above her. She let out an audible groan as she glanced over to her right, spotting the grey curtains swaying mildly in the wind as the open window allowed for the cool morning breeze to travel inside. She stared at the curtains for a few seconds, her mind clearly trying to piece together how her curtains were now a different colour than what they were when she left her apartment last night. Had she changed them when she was drunk? Surely not.

Nope, you definitely have not changed your curtains!

Her eyes drifted down from the curtains, her eyes noting the paint of the walls was also different, as was the flooring. Why couldn’t she piece it together? The bright orange bone shaped toy caught her attention, the cogs in her head turning in overdrive as she stared puzzled at what she presumed was a dog toy. Makes sense, right?

She lay on her back, the white sheets covering her body were softer than her own. Okay, it was beginning to sink in that maybe this wasn’t her apartment. The blank canvas of the ceiling allowed for her brain to paint the events of the previous night along it, her mind creating a map of the events for her to piece together.

She remembered dancing throughout the night, dancing with her friends on the floor, along the tables of the bar. She remembered diffusing an argument between Jackson and Mia, instructing for her to go home early. She remembered losing Scott, but there was something she was missing.

And then it hit Eloise like a truck, the realisation smacking her like a bumper car at the fayre.

She remembered him. She remembered Calum.

Eloise recalled how their eyes met from across the club, Mia pointing him out to her, her dark eyes meeting his as the colours of their irises blended together to create a gaze never before set. The distance between them in that moment settled in her mind, the loss of contact when she was dragged off to dance with Roman fresh in her thoughts.

But what was raw in her mind was the sensation she felt with his lips against hers. The softness brushing against the blush-coloured features on her own face as they sat in the back of that cab, the feeling on his large hands on her as they travelled up the few short stairs to his home, the feeling of her back slamming against the wall of his hallway before he dragged her to his bedroom. Eloise continued to relive the events, getting lost in memory of the feeling of his lips dragging along her jaw, down her neck, painting her skin with his full lips as she lay there, spread out like a canvas dying to be painted.

Her eyes fell to the spot next to her, expecting to find the sleeping lump of a man she had found herself going home with. But what she was met with was crumpled sheets, an empty space where he once lay. She couldn’t help but wonder what he had disappeared to, how long had she been alone for?

Eloise felt her stomach sink slightly at the realisation of the night’s events taking a turn she knew he probably wasn’t expecting, yet he was still polite enough to let her stay, enjoying her company as he held the stranger in his arms and treasured her warmth like the best kept secret he had discovered. Their lips brushed for hours as the night travelled on, their hands roamed yet never connected in the way they both deep down craved so intensely. And that was all down to Eloise; her conscious working in the back of her mind as her lips wrapped in his, a voice as sweet as a woman she remembered all too well whispering to her that she had more respect for herself than to waste a night of intimacy with a stranger.

But she couldn’t help but allow her heart to tug gingerly at the gentle, new, smile she could see when she closed her eyes, his sensual moans and raspy voice echoing in her ears as they erupted bonfires in each other’s chests. It was that reason exactly which induced her to stop in her tracks, uttering an apology before sharing a quiet “I can’t do this”, his response being unexpected as he continued to hold her while his shoulders gave a limp shrug.

“Stay anyway,” He whispered against her skin, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I just want you to stay.”

She couldn’t deny the flutter in her heart at his soft voice, her lips giving into yet another kiss as they held one another. A one-night stand where nothing fitted into the typical mould of how the stereotype was practiced by hundreds around the world. Where the typical rendezvous would be spent with loud vocals, rushed kisses and desperate movements, their time together was spent with slow kisses, soft hands and gentle whispers of each other’s beauty.

It was a night that took a turn which Eloise certainly hadn’t expected: one that she didn’t wholeheartedly regret.

Her long legs carried her through to the ensuite bathroom to her right, her tired arms having freed herself from the soft sheets she lay enveloped in, her eyes travelling around the cold white-tiled walls as her hands found the edge of the sink. She grasped her mesh top from the floor on her way, sighing as she looked at the crumpled material in her hands. She stared back at herself in the mirror, her hair dishevelled and tangled, her makeup smudged against her soft skin, her collarbones and lower neck littered with purple splodges that he had created. She gulped, swallowing the stone like lump in her throat as she tried to piece together how she got herself into this position. She couldn’t do something as simple as have meaningless sex, she chickened out every time.

“You moron,” She muttered to herself, “You complete, utter loser.”

She let the warm water run from the tap for a few minutes, watching as the endless stream flowed down the plughole, her delicate hands reaching in and cupping together beneath it, allowing for a small puddle to fill in her palms before raising it for her face and rubbed her hands gently along her skin. She grasped the face cloth she found on the towel rail, rubbing it gently along her jaw, rubbing each of her eyes as she watched as they became free from the smeared dark makeup. The transfer of the twilight coloured product on the cloth was intense, the bright blue towel bringing her attention to the spread black product that made its new home on the fabric.

She would apologise for the cloth, but Eloise couldn’t stand having that mess on her face any longer. The small dark coloured bottles littered along the small shelve to the left of the sink caught her attention next when she tossed the face cloth into the sand-coloured washing basket beside the door, her eyes reading the small intricate labels on each one as her brain thought back to the scent of him, the smell of his cologne as it infested her nose as she sat on his lap within the confined space of the yellow taxi. She swore she could still smell him, the oaky musk remaining embedded in her nose from the hours before. His eyes were blurring her vision, the chocolate swirls within them hypnotising her as she thought of him for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. She could still feel the warmth of his skin against her hands, the heat radiating off them as if she were on fire, her fingertips memorising every curvature of his skin, the rise and fall of his chest, the beat of his heart against her palm.

She could remember all these parts of a man she hardly knew, yet what had she given him to remember? A pair of blue balls and a dirty face cloth. Classy.

Her head peered out of the door which connected the bathroom back to the bedroom, her eyes falling to the unmade bed as she noted it remained empty, the bedroom door open ajar. Her bare feet carried her along the wooden floors, her eyes glancing around the room before she was pushing the door open, a whole new area now being brought to her attention. A grey hallway welcomed her, the sun beaming through the floor to ceiling windows that lined the house, her gasp stopping halfway as she witnessed how bright and open it made the home feel. She walked along the floorboards, her eyes catching the scattered photo frames that were perched along the painted walls; her eyes scanning each individual one. She made note of the large canvas at the end of the hall, the hand painted piece commanding attention as it hung proud. She wished one day to own beautiful art pieces in her apartment, her money barely being able to cover rent as it is. It was another dream to add to her list.

Eloise pieced together the photographs on the walls, figuring a lot of them were of his friends and family. It seemed as though he was very fond of them, every photograph having painfully happy smiles spread along everyone’s faces.

It wasn’t until she got to the final frame at the end of the hallway that her body froze, her shoulders tensing as her knees buckled slightly at the sight in front of her. Was she seeing things? Her heartbeat picked up a few beats, slowly but surely beginning to drown out the white noise of the house she found herself in, becoming the only sound she was able to hear.

She saw him standing there in the picture, his arms around an older lady who looked awfully alike to him and a young girl with light blonde hair who looked like the female version of him. They must’ve been his family. Her eyes then drifted to his attire, the cap on his head catching her attention first, her throat drying as she nipped at her chapped lips with her teeth, the navy colour only flooding her mind with anxiety.

Eloise felt her chest shake with the breath she took in, her hands playing with themselves in front of her as she scanned the photograph further. The shirt he wore screamed out to be detected, the rush in her chest only worsening as the gold badge on his torso glowed through the camera lens, his small sparkling name pin worn with honour on the left side of his chest taking pride of place in the photo as the blonde beside him pointed to it with a wide smile, Eloise’s eyes unable to miss how his biceps were bulging out around the constraints of the dark shirt he wore. Focus, Eloise.

He was a cop. He was a bloody cop.

She couldn’t fight the blow of fear that hit her chest like a gust of wind, her mind instantly thinking to all those feelings and memories she had flooding her mind only moments ago, now replaced with apprehension and panic as she could only imagine how this would look if anyone were to know. A Gypsy King and a cop in bed together? It would never look good. Never.

I need to get out of here, she thought. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid thudding of her heart against her ribcage and she continued her walk through the home. An open plan living room, kitchen and dining room soon welcomed her as she appeared around the corner of the hallway, the voice inside her head fighting to ignore the modernity of the decor; one that she could only dream of achieving one day.

Eloise wanted to get out of there as soon as she could, wanting to avoid the awkward exchange of thanks and small talk that she assumed they would share before she slipped into the abyss and never saw him again. She spotted her jacket hung on the back of one of the dining chairs, quickly hauling on her mesh top from the night before, the material smelling like a perfect mixture of her perfume and his cologne, the smell faded but still strong enough to throw her mind into a haze. She brought her focus back to getting out of the house that was not her own, hopefully unnoticed, as she reached for her trusty leather jacket, her hands gripping onto the collar as she lifted it, quickly slipping her arms into it as she adjusted the cold material so it sat comfortably on her shoulders. She tried desperately to ignore the uncomfortable sensation that flowed through her as she stood in her skirt, the material beginning to sit uncomfortably against her clammy thighs. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to sleep in it…

Now all that was left was for her to find her shoes, her bag being sat on the table opposite her jacket, her belongings all kept inside securely. Surely, they couldn’t be far.

Eloise sighed vocally as she glanced out of the large glass window that faced the dining table, the skyline outside of his home truly being a thing of beauty; a sight that could quite literally take anyone’s breath away. It dawned on her in that moment that she had no idea where she was, of course she was still in New York but where exactly was her question. How was she supposed to get home from here?

Her nimble fingers tore open her bag, grabbing her phone from its contents, silently praying that it still had some battery left. The screen lit up much to her relief, the photograph of her lock screen shining in all its glory as she ignored the notifications before she opened her maps, watching as the location adjusted, flashing over the globe on her screen before it settled and zoomed in to Eloise’s location, revealing that she in fact in Queens. Okay so she wasn’t too far, it was only a small drive back to Brooklyn, much to her relief, meaning it wouldn’t cost her too much in a cab. When she thought about it, Uber was probably going to be cheaper and quicker which was a key factor in the task currently at hand.

She returned to her home screen, flicking through her pages of apps, finding Uber before ordering a car, seeing the few minutes wait she would have to suffer through until she would be finally free, safe from any interaction with the man, whose house she found herself in, until she was in the safe confinements of her small complex yet again.

The black colour of her strappy heels caught her eyes as she looked at the front door, her brain contemplating over if she would actually wear them when she left, the begging voice in the back of her mind was desperate for her to just carry them, reminding her of the ache she suffered last night, her ankles still not fully forgetting the gentle burn they felt as she walked around in the torture devices. Yeah, maybe she’d just carry them.

Now all she had to do was get out of his home unnoticed, to escape down the front staircase and into a car where she could forget this ever happened, her feet already beginning to make their way towards the front door. That seemed like the easy part.

Or at least it did until a voice spoke up, the familiar satin-like tone making Eloise’s heart thud yet again.

Unable to stop herself from following the sweet sound, her eyes looked in the direction of the hallway, seeing Calum stood there in all his muscular glory, his bare chest on show as he leaned against the wall, the ends of his dark curly hair flying in every direction as his grey joggers hung loosely from his waist. The brunette’s eyes glanced at the black ink littered along his skin, the markings on his chest standing proud as the cascading artistry on his arms bulged like his muscles as he commanded the room. The fight Eloise had with herself in order to prevent her eyes from drifting downwards was a brutal one; a fight that she didn’t think she would struggle with. Much like the fight she had with her brain when she asked herself why she was feeling so heated, so not her, when she looked at him. What made him so special? He was a cop, a big red flag, the colour flashing in her mind as she tried to remind herself that he was the enemy, he was who she tried to avoid every day.

“Going somewhere so soon?” He called sweetly, “Was last night really that bad?”

She couldn’t stop her heart as it fluttered at the sweet tang in his voice, his smile resting across his pretty face, his cheeks lightly pushed up at the expression. Pull yourself together, El!

“No, it was gre-great,” She smiled nervously, glancing down at her bare feet as she placed her phone back into her bag, trying to keep her eyes off of him, not trusting herself not to give him a look she regretted, forbidding her heart from skipping at the sight of him, “I just really need to head home, I forgot that I, uh… took the spare key for my place and my friend was supposed to be staying there, so I need to, um, get home and make sure that he’s okay.”

“I’m sure he’s a big boy and can take care of himself,”

“You clearly don’t know Scott, he can barely use a toaster unattended,” Eloise let out a light-hearted laugh, her cheeks flushed as she lifted her bag and threw it over her shoulder, her eyes still refusing to meet his. “Listen, I uh, I really appreciate you letting me stay after I… y’know… kind of- “

“It’s not a problem,” Calum shrugged, his eyes never leaving the beauty who stood just meters away from his front door, “It would pretty dishonourable of me to throw you out on the basis of you not wanting to sleep with me, it would go against what my job tries to enforce, in a way, if you can understand that.”

“I saw your photo on the wall,” She nodded, her eyes slowly trailing along the floor, her confidence slowly coming back to her as she readied herself to look at him. Eloise assumed that he thought she knew what he did for work; maybe he had told her last night and she forgot? “I’m assuming that’s from when you graduated the academy?”

Calum smiled at that the thought of the photograph he adored in his hallway, it being a personal favourite of his since the day it was taken. He made note of Eloise’s stance in front of him; noting how her feet shuffled slightly against the smooth flooring, how her hands fiddled with themselves, how she chewed at her bottom lip, picking at the chapped skin with her teeth. Calum couldn’t stop himself from remembering how her hands felt tangled in his hair as they kissed; how her nails felt trailing along his chest, how her teeth nipped at his lips, painting him with sins as she worked along his golden skin before she stopped, her body halting in it’s descent, admitting to him that she couldn’t continue in the direction they both initially intended. He understood, even in his drunken state, appreciating the artistry that she was laced with as he gazed at her. He wanted her to stay. He wanted to hold her and just lay with a woman again, even if it meant nothing to her, he just wanted to hold a girl laced with charm. And that girl was Eloise.

When he awoke that morning to find her sleeping next to him, he couldn’t deny he was confused at first, unaware he had ended up taking someone home but that was before memories of her body as it moved in the club flashed across his mind, memories of her sweet tongue as it spoke teasing responses to his words throughout the ride home tingled in his ears. He couldn’t hide the sickening smile that graced his face as he watched her, her eyelashes gently fluttering against her cheeks as she slept, her makeup smudged yet still hopelessly beautiful. He couldn’t believe he was saying this about a girl he didn’t know, the only thing he knew was her name, Eloise. It rolled off his tongue as he lay there, watching as she breathed, her name replaying in his head as he whispered it to himself a few times.

Right Calum snap out of it!

“Uh yeah,” He chuckled, a hint of nerves in his voice, “I graduated a few years ago after struggling to figure out what I wanted to as a career. I realised I had an admiration for the police, and I always appreciated the work that the force has done and continues to do all over the world and the justice they stand for, so I figured it was the right path for me.”

“So, you’re a smooth talker and a soft touch then?” She teased, her almond eyes finally looking up to meet his own, “Not an ideal mix for a street cop.”

“Detective, actually,” He corrected her, “I lost the ‘street cop’ title a while ago.”

The anxiety burning up inside Eloise only escalated as he spoke those words. Oh god, this couldn’t get any worse, she thought. First, she failed at the simple task of having a one-night stand, then discovers that her blunder of a one-night stand was with a cop, only to be discovered that he’s actually a detective. This really could get any worse!

“Congratulations,” She edged a small smile, suddenly remembering that the Uber she ordered would probably be close by if not already outside, “But yeah, listen I’m sorry to cut this short but I really need to go, my ride’s outside, uh, I think.”

“You think?” He raised an eyebrow as he repeated her final words, watching as she edged further towards the door, leaning down to pick up her shoes in her hand, her back never turning on him.

“The tracking on my Uber app is never right,” She lied, shrugging her shoulders as she rolled her lips into her mouth, “It said it would ten minutes or so, so…”

“Ah right, makes sense,” He nodded, sensing she was in a rush, noting how her eyes flickered and her breath picked up a little. He could hear her heartbeat from where he stood, her nerves dancing around the room as if they were alive, “Well, uh, I guess I better make this quick.” He cleared his throat as he stood upright, the joggers hanging loosely on his hips, letting the waist band of his Calvin Klein briefs peep out, resulting in a slight sheen of sweat begin to gloss the back of Eloise’s neck, her eyes remaining focused on his, her mind working in overdrive to keep her attention focused on one feature and one feature only; his eyes. “I really enjoyed last night, and I mean that, I really did. So, I was thinking we could maybe do it again sometime but without the alcohol, like a date? Maybe dinner or something?”

Eloise could’ve sworn her entire world came to a standstill when that word left his lips. Date? He wanted a date… A detective in the NYPD wanted a date with a gang banger. It was something Eloise never thought she would hear, nor be in the situation of.

“I’ll think about it.” The words left her lips before she could even register the question fully, her brain playing catch up as her body sped ahead. She could feel her cheeks begin to heat at the realisation, the apples turning a faded pink as she gulped at her quick response. “I… Uh… Yeah, I’ll uh, I’ll think about it.” She spoke slowly, trying to back up her initial response with a more assured version. Although the assurance was more for herself rather than Calum. She poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue as she took a shaky breath, her hand reaching for the doorknob of his front door and twisted it, the sound of the lock clicking and echoing within the small doorway.

“How am I supposed to know when you’ve made up your mind?” Calum’s voice called out, a soft smirk creasing his lips as he watched Eloise open the door to allow herself to escape from his four walls, “I don’t even have your number.”

Eloise bit the inside of her lip, unable to stop the playful smirk growing and the cheeky tone grace her voice as she responded, “You’ll know, trust me.” Her eyes looked out to the sight of the street that was revealed to her through the opening of the door, the blue sky welcoming her as the comfortable morning warmth snuck into the doorway. “I’ll find you.”

Before Calum had a chance to fire another word in her direction, she was gone. Her body had slipped through the crack of the door as the sound of the wooden panel reconnecting with the frame merely rattled as it closed, leaving Calum alone in his hallway, the only presence in there aside from him being his small four-legged companion who toddled around the garden out the back in search of new smells.

Calum couldn’t put a halt on his imagination as he pictured Eloise; her dark hair sculpting her gentle face, her almond eyes staring back at him, her delicate hands holding an entire world within them as her soft-skinned palms met his own. He had seen his fair share of beautiful women from his travels throughout his lifetime but never had he seen one as captivating as Eloise. He wanted to know what adventures lay behind her eyes, what else there was to discover and admire of the girl who flooded his mind within minutes of seeing her in that club.

But what he didn’t know was what she did. He didn’t know who she was. All he saw was a beautiful young girl who was having some drunken fun compared to the real Eloise; the rough, intelligent, broken girl who ran with the wrong crowd. She hid behind a mask, hiding the crimes she committed, hiding the deals she made, hiding it all to protect herself and make a living. It was something that no one ever expected to see when they looked at someone like Eloise. And it was a sight that Calum didn’t even know he wanted to see.

*****

The sound of the door closing rattled through the whole apartment; her shoes being discarded into the cupboard next to the entrance before she made her way into the kitchen. A loud sigh was released from within her chest as she opened her fridge, the chilled air confined within escaping free, eliciting a cool subtle breeze over Eloise as she searched the inside, hoping to find something she could eat that didn’t require much effort. Her prayers were answered as her eyes fell on a pink tub at the back of her fridge, her chipped fingernails reaching inside and grasping the container of strawberry yoghurt, a sigh of relief washing over her as she closed the door and moved across her kitchen to find a clean spoon. As much as she would have given her right arm for a greasy bacon sandwich at that moment, a large tub of cheap strawberry yoghurt would suffice.

Heavy footsteps could be heard from further inside of the apartment, her brown eyes looking up to meet with the familiar ones of Scott as he appeared in the kitchen. His eyes widened as he spotted Eloise leaning against the counter, shock in his eyes as if the sight of Eloise in her own apartment was an unexpected one. Shouldn’t she be the one stunned to find him here in his current state? She made a mental note of his lack of clothes, his boxers hanging off of his waist as he held a glass of water in his hand. “Care to explain what you’re doing here?” She piped up, her eyebrows raising slightly as she ate a spoonful of the sweet yoghurt.

She watched as the gears in his brain began to turn, obviously trying to come up with a sentence that he prayed she would take as an answer. Her excuse to Calum replayed in her mind, remembering how she lied and said that she had to check that Scott was okay as he was ‘supposed’ to be staying at her place. And by the looks of things, he actually did.

“Right, so before you go nuts and kill me- “

His excuse was cut short by the high-pitched giggle of a familiar flamboyant-coloured, red headed girl as she waltzed into the kitchen, her arm sneaking around Scott’s waist as she leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek with her smudged lipstick from the night before, the face paint still holding the rather bright pigment that matched her hair. She whispered a sultry goodbye to him before sending a knowing smirk in Eloise’s direction, her hips working excessively as she strutted out of the apartment, the door closing behind her, signalling that Scott and Eloise were left alone.

“I can’t wait to hear this,” Eloise sighed knowingly, placing the yoghurt down on the counter behind her, her clothed arms crossing along her chest as she let out a harsh huff, “Hit me with it.”

“Promise me that you’re not going to kill me first,” He pointed a knowing finger at her as he stood in her doorway, his voice increasing an octave as nerves settled in for his safety against his best friend, his shaking hand placing the half empty glass down on the countertop beside the door.

“I can’t promise you anything but I’m encouraging you to hurry up and tell me why the fuck she was in my house and why you’re here in nothing but your cheap boxers,” Her voice got louder as she spat out the words, “You better have a really good reason why you decided to use my house as your shagging shed.”

To say she was angry was an understatement. She was pissed. She didn’t get angry with Scott about much, usually both of them finding the humour in most situations, but she couldn’t stop the rage radiating inside of her at the thought of him disrespecting her like this. It could’ve been worse; she knew that but that wasn’t the point.

Scott’s lips parted as if to speak, his voice freezing in his throat as he tried to come up with an excuse. He didn’t have one, but he was sure as hell gonna make one. “Listen, El, I just- “

“Y’know what, Scott, I actually don’t want to hear whatever shit excuse you’re gonna throw my way,” She sighed, rubbing her face with one hand as she released a heavy sigh, “Just please tell me you didn’t use my bed.”

“I know I’m an asshole but I’m not that bad,” He rushed out the words, “We didn’t touch your room, I swear, we just used your shower instead.” He mumbled that last part, but unfortunately for Eloise she heard every word.

Guess it was time to disinfect her shower!

Eloise couldn’t even look at him as she shook her head, her eyes settling on the floor beneath them as she stood in silence. When she really thought about it, she wasn’t actually angry, she was just frustrated. About what, she couldn’t pinpoint but frustration was the main thing that rattled through her bones in that moment. Scott and Lydia had just been the spark to light the ignition.

“Do you want some breakfast before we need to head out?” His voice cautiously spoke out into the kitchen, his eyes searching from some kind of reassurance from the brunette that she wasn’t seconds away from throwing a fist at him. He was trying to cut the tension he knew he had created in the room, knowing that she didn’t need his mistake to be another thing to add to the list of problems she had to deal with. She responded with a single nod, moving out of the way as she put the yoghurt carton back into the fridge and sat down at her small table, watching as Scott moved around the kitchen and pieced together a quick yet fulfilling breakfast for them.

“So, this Lydia girl, are you going to be seeing her again or is this just another one-time thing?” Her question echoed around the room, her eyes watching as the muscles in Scott’s back somewhat tensed at her question before dissipating, relaxing as he worked on spreading the butter across the toasted slices of bread.

Scott was known for finding a piece of fun for the night then practically forgetting she exists once the door closed behind her the following morning. He used the same excuse every time he was asked about his girl of choice, brushing it off as if made perfect sense. In a way it did, especially when Eloise thought about it. It was quite an impactful statement to her, something that resonated with her that she had applied to her life without even realising.

“It’s easier to forget the feelings before they even have a chance of develop. When you block out a connection or love for someone it’s the safest way to stop yourself from getting hurt.” Scott recited, sighing as he put the slices of toast onto plates before placing one in front of Eloise and taking his own seat opposite her, lifting a single slice in his hand before taking a bite.

Eloise realised he had a point after the first few occasions where he would speak those words after an eventful night. The words that he spoke like an oath rang true when she viewed them in her own life. Of course, they only resulted in her fear growing every time she heard them, the truthfulness of the words speaking true as she pushed away people who she could love. Love resulted in eventual loss is what she had learnt throughout the years; loving someone so much that your heart aches is a trap, setting yourself up for destruction when that love would shatter your heart and cause the world around you to crumble. That’s what she feared most; loving someone so intensely that her world crumbled when they weren’t there anymore.

She had been a witness to the act of a world crumbling, being there on the side-lines as her dad became more broken every day after her mother died, watching as the man cracked like a mirror, each piece chipping away as the hours passed, leaving an empty corpse with no soul, no heart and no love left to share. She didn’t want to experience that for herself, living it through her dad was more than enough pain for her to handle.

Eloise had never truly experienced love. She knew that and that’s what scared her; she didn’t know what to expect other than complete self-destruction at the sensation, for her heart to be broken, and for her body and mind to follow suit. She had heard and read stories of what it feels like to be in love, many of the stories resonating from fairy tales her mother told her as a child, songs she would sing about falling in love and the beauty of it. But how could Eloise believe those words when the only true example of love she ever knew was the one her parents shared, the one which came to the tragic ending that haunts her to this day.

Her thoughts travelled from fear and anger to the recollection of the morning and night before, the thought of the tanned stranger clouding her mind yet again as she sat at the small dining table. While she thought of him with a smile that she didn’t dare show, she couldn’t not fight with herself over why she was thinking of him in such a fantasy-like manner, her mind becoming hazed as she remembered his touch, his beauty, as she remembered him. It was a failed one-night stand that she couldn’t hide her hint of embarrassment from, but there was something about that night that stuck with her. It made her feel as though it was more intimate than it would have been if they were to have had sex. The way he held her was new to her, his gentle hold on her face, her waist, all over her body, was one she hadn’t felt yet oddly enough wished to feel again. He made her feel as though he saw her, he saw the real her.

She mentally slapped herself and brought herself back to reality, her hand lifting the now cold toast to her mouth as she chewed the dull-tasting snack that her friend had made. She didn’t understand why she was sitting there, thinking of him when she knew he wouldn’t have thought about her. Especially when he learnt of who she was.

But what she didn’t know was that Calum was sitting in the exact same position in his own four walls, mind clouded with the fascination of the girl who he had only just met.

*****

Eloise’s vision should have been green with the amount of counting she had done that morning, constantly double counting rolls of dollar bills that had recently come in for the Gypsy Kings due to Han selling off a shipment of dodgy goods. Thank god she wasn’t doing this hungover, the thought of her hangover from her birthday celebrations only making her grimace at the recollection of the feeling from a few days ago. She sat at the wooden table, her lips moving as she silently counted her half of the money while Scott counted the other, both of them making a note of every $100 so it made it easier to keep track if one of them lost count. Han always handed the money over to Eloise to count, knowing she would make sure the total was accurate, but also due to the fact that she knew he hated counting.

Han had always been a key member of the Gypsy Kings, an important role in keeping the structure of the group together but also keeping the rest of them in line. Well, everyone excluding Jay who ran by his own rules when it came to how things were done. Han was young when he joined the Kings, his presence in the gang very much being one of a little brother to the other members at the beginning, him being the youngest at one point. He had joined when Eloise was a child and he only being 18; young and impressionable. Aside from Bear, Han was the only other member of the Kings who her mother, Natalia, became fond of, knowing that he was only a young boy who wanted to fit in somewhere, to have somewhere to go to call home. Her love of Han had passed down to her daughter, Eloise loving him as if he were family while she grew up.

He had a partner at one point, Eloise remembered. Her name was Ruby. She was like an annoying older sister to Eloise, the kind that you argued with a lot, but you still loved, nonetheless. She didn’t remember very much about Ruby, but she did have a few fond memories, recalling that Ruby stopped coming by when she was around 13, saying goodbye to Eloise one afternoon, before she left the house with Han and never came back. Han never talked about her anymore, the assumption Eloise had was that she was dead but something about the situation seemed to pain Han in a different way. He wasn’t hurt by grief but still by a loss as he worked to move forward throughout the years, focusing his time and power into the Gypsy Kings, working his way through ranks and settling with where he was currently: his position of being Jay’s number two, the one Jay confided in when he hated to admit he needed help with a plan, the one who could bark orders when Jay wasn’t around. The main difference between Han barking orders and Jay doing so was that Han never ‘barked’ instead he instructed, and the boys around him complied 90% of the time with what he asked when he was running things.

“That’s my half counted,” Scott wrote his final total on the notepad, letting out a sigh of relief as he tossed the pen onto the table and leaned back in his chair, “I never want to touch another dollar bill again!”

Eloise snickered at her friend’s remark, shaking her head as she continued to count the final roll of notes in her hand, smiling to herself as she tossed the last green bill into the bag before writing her final total down as well, working out the maths as she combined the two totals to get the final sum.

“How much did it come to?” Han’s voice spoke from behind Eloise, his hands resting on the back of her chair as he looked down at the notepad as she wrote.

“You’ve got yourself a grand total of $5,000,” She smirked, dropping the pen as she tilted her head up and flashing a smile at the familiar face, “Nice job on that shipment though, Han, Jay’s gonna be pleased with that money coming in, and now we just need to get another one sooner rather than later.”

“We need to figure out another direction we can take to keep money coming in,” Han spoke as he took a seat next to the two young members, “We need something sturdy that doesn’t necessarily mean having to wait around for a big enough opportunity to come knocking.”

Han was right. The gang needed money in order to keep going, as great as it was that Han was bringing in big money, they knew it wouldn’t last once it was divided and dispersed through the gang while also invested in the business antics they currently ran. They needed more opportunities. Han could only make the big deals when he had enough product to ship, enough to make a big sum with the least amount of risk possible. Han’s expertise was in black market materials: mainly blacklisted weapons, booze and cigars. He had big clients who bought from him across the seas but also in the states, clients who paid big money for the products he could get. Han was a productive businessman, the talent of making money being something it seemed he was born with.

Eloise picked at her brain as she tried to figure out a business venture that they could attempt to take in order to make a profit, one that fit in with the rest, and one that would be promising.

“I’ve got it!” Scott cheered, his eyes shooting wide as he stared at Eloise and Han, his hand slamming onto the table, “Why don’t we run some fights? There’s a handful of boys here who would be dying to get into the ring and throw a few punches for some good money, we could take bets- “

“The point of this new expansion in the business is to not draw attention to ourselves,” Han cut him off, letting a frustrated sigh escape his lips, “Somehow I don’t think inviting the people of New York to an underground fight is the best way not keeping things on the down low.”

Eloise watched as Scott rolled his eyes, his plan being thrown into the non-existent bin as he tried to figure out a new plan. Then it came to her, “What about a protection service?”

“El, somehow I don’t- “

“No, shut up and listen to me,” She stopped Scott in his tracks, “We know plenty of dodgy characters around the city who conduct sketchy business every day and nine times out ten they get caught or worse, they get ransacked before they get a chance to sell.” She explained, her eyes looking at Han, her finger prodding the table as she pitched her idea. “If we offered a protection service for a good price, whether it be to keep an eye on goods or attend dealings with them or god knows what and they take us up on it, then that means we’ve got money coming in but also we can obtain inside details on shipments and transactions all around the city. We can expand the Gypsy Kings even more than we already have.”

Han’s face was a picture at the sound of Eloise’s pitch, a proud smile spreading across his face as he patted her shoulder and nodded, “It’s a good plan, I like it. Nice job, El, you’ve really grown into your boots in the business side of things.”

Eloise smiled up at the comforting face of Han, knowing she had come up with a good idea the minute she pitched it. “All we need to do is get clients and dispatch some of the guys.”

“I’ll discuss charges with Jay, and I’ll get back to you on that one,” Han pushed himself out of his seat, “But we’ll keep them semi-respectable. We need profit with small risk, no more deaths of our hands.”

“Bigger risk means more money,” Scott piped in, tilting his head as he looked at Han, his shoulders shrugging as he watched Han’s brain begin to work, “If it the client fits then why not take the jump?”

“Like I said, I’ll talk with Jay and we’ll go from there.”

Han’s large hand patted Eloise’s shoulder once more before he disappeared into the back of the hideout, leaving the Eloise and Scott in the main room with the others who continued to play fight and argue with one another.

“Han’s pet.” Scott grumbled under his breath, catching Eloise’s eyes as they shot to him. He smirked playfully at her stare, unable to hold back the light laugh as he felt her foot against the leg of his chair before her hands reached forward and pushed against his chest in an attempt to push him out of his seat.

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes, chuckling at her friend before sitting back in her seat.

A bang detonated throughout the room all of a sudden, every pair of eyes flying to the door as Jay stormed in and made his way to the table in the centre of the room. He looked as if he was up to something. Eloise was never sure whether she liked that look he had or not, unable to decipher if she was going to like what plan he came up with in that moment. He called everybody’s attention as they gathered at the table, surrounding the leader as he watched as all eyes fell to him.

“The Ryders’ shipment deal fell through,” He announced, his eyes wild with excitement as he spoke, “Eddy and his boys went to collect the shipment last night but were busted by cops in transit. The deal went to shit and the shipment has now gone back Cuba, but here’s where it gets good, I’ve been given some contacts for the guys who were originally bringing the shipment over and they’re open to dealing with us,” His eyes were wild with desire, the green of eyes turning darker as his pupils enlarged at the euphoria he seemed to be feeling at the thought of the possibility, “But they want $35,000 for the lot. Eddy was willing to pay the money for it as the profit is supposedly five times the amount, and with a profit like that it makes it the perfect deal with us.”

“And how do you expect us to pay for that, Jay? We’re hardly making ends meet here as it is,” Eloise piped up, her arms crossed on the tabletop, “We haven’t got even a fraction of the money to pay for that deal.”

“Who said anything about paying for it?” He smirked, looking around at the enlarged eyes of his followers, “It’s coming into the city in a few weeks’ time, it’s gonna be coming to the abandoned Navy Yard just west of Williamsburg. All we need to do is hijack the shipment and it’s ours. They typically travel in a small group for the deals, there’s gonna be more of us than there is of them, so it’s gonna be an easy take.”

“What about the cops?” Taylor, another member of the gang asked, “The cops caught the Ryders before, so they obviously know about the shipment, what’s gonna stop them from coming after us when they hear it’s coming back into the city? You know it won’t take them long to figure out who’s collecting it and if we get caught, we’re done for, Jay, especially if they catch us after- ” Jay stopped him, cutting him off as he waved him off, assuring that it would be fine and he would handle it. Jay always handled it.

Taylor wasn’t wrong. If the cops had busted a deal with these guys already, they would know to be expecting a second attempt to be taking place. And if they caught a whiff of the Gypsy Kings being the buyers then they would be finished, most of the gang would be put in prison for life meanwhile a few others would most likely get death row. The Kings had a reputation throughout the city, one that a lot of people feared, one that angered a lot of cops, but that’s the way things were run within the gang. ‘Make those who wish to destroy you fear you’.

“What if someone could distract them?” Luis’s voice chimed in, “If someone could cause a diversion on the night then that would work, wouldn’t it?”

“Or what if someone led them in the wrong direction from the very beginning?” Scott’s voice echoed through the room.

All eyes fell to Scott as he leaned forward in his seat, hand moving throughout the air as he expanded on his previous suggestion.

“If we could get someone on the inside with the police and lead them off them off our trail on the build-up the night, surely that would, if anything, lower our chances of being caught to being as small as possible,” He stood up in his seat, leaning forward on the table slightly, “And if they did end up coming after us then it would be rushed, they wouldn’t have time to plan cut off points in the road or lay any traps for us to fall into. We just need a few back-up escape routes out of the boat yard and the shipment is ours. We’d be out of sight and back home safe and sound with full pockets and no cops to stop us.”

Jay was smiling like the Cheshire cat at Scott’s plan, his eyes practically bulging out of his head at the thought of getting away with robbing such a huge shipment and having the cops know nothing about it. It was almost as if it turned him on. Ew. “You, my dear Scotty, are a fucking genius!” He yelled proudly, a loud laugh escaping him as he slammed his hand onto the table.

Eloise tried to hide her distaste for the plan, not liking the sound of it or how confident Jay and Scott had both suddenly became with it. It seemed as if there were holes within it the scheme that even she couldn’t amend. There was something about the whole shipment robbery and Jay’s excitement with it that didn’t sit right with her. She didn’t trust it.

“Now, all you’ve got to do is work out who’s going to be your rat,” Gabriel spoke up, his eyes glancing up at Jay as he stood to the side of the group, “Who do you think you can trust to get in with cops with the least retaliation or backlash?”

“Looks as if it’s your time to shine, sweetheart.” Jay’s voice spoke almost instantly in response to Gabriel’s question, eyes travelling across the room.

It took a moment of silence before it registered that Jay’s eyes had shifted from the tank of man that was Gabriel to the only female in the room, Eloise. She looked up, feeling his eyes burn into hers as he stared at her, the wicked trademark smirk of Jay Snow planted firmly on his lips.

“You can’t be serious,” She scoffed, “No offence but I’m not your ‘rat’. I don’t fit in with cops.”

“But you see, love, you fit in better than anyone of us here. You’ve got the assets that we lack, more persuasion tactics that we can’t execute. You can work your magic on an officer or two, feed them false intel, led them astray, hell, shoot them, I don’t care,” He walked around the table, closing the distance between them before he grabbed her face, forcing her to look directly into his eyes, “You’re gonna get yourself linked to the NYPD one way or another, I don’t care how, but you’re gonna do it and you’re gonna it today.”

Eloise released a shaky breath as Jay’s grip tightened, his fingers searing holes into her skin as he glared down at her, “And what if I don’t?”

“You don’t want to know that outcome,” Jay tutted, “But let’s just say, you’ll be having a little family reunion a lot sooner than you would have thought.”

Eloise could feel her body heating at the remark, her heartrate picking up at the mention of her parents as the word ‘family’ rolled off Jay’s tongue like a drop of poison. “Fuck you, Jay.” She seethed.

Jay practically threw her head out of his vice-like grip as he laughed at her, walking back around as he returned to his previous position at the head of the table, his eyes never leaving Eloise’s as he watched her shake with anger.

“El will start making progress with the cops tonight, and we’ll be ready to go in a month, everybody got that?” Jay recalled, his eyes eventually breaking from her brown ones as he looked around at the scattered members of the gang.

The sound of mumbled agreements and varied incoherent words travelled amongst the group before they dispersed, Jay’s tall stature vanishing into the back room once again, the sound of the door slamming resonating within the walls. Eloise couldn’t help how shaky her breathing had become, unable to break her stare from the blueprint that had been spread across the table, her teeth nibbling at the inside of her cheek as Jay’s instruction reiterated itself in her mind numerous times.

She didn’t even feel Scott’s hand on her arm at first, the cool contrast against her heated skin as her leather jacket sleeve was pressed against her, her eyes breaking with the blue spread to briefly meet the golden eyes of the boy beside her.

“Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut?” She spoke before she could stop herself, her voice shaking briefly as her eyes were full of hurt as she stared at her best friend, “Could you not have some up with anything else as an idea? Now Jay wants me to risk god knows what just so he can get some shitty shipment, thanks for that, Scott.”

“Don’t blame me for this,” He shook his head, “Listen, I’m sorry you got picked to be the guinea pig in Jay’s plot but like you and Han were saying earlier, we need the money. And with the money from this deal, we’ll be rolling in it, we’ll be almost set up for success.”

“You’re really going to let me do something as stupid as this for some success?” She asked, her expression remaining unchanged, “You’re supposed to be my friend, since when did- “

“I would rather let you do something stupid than watch as my best friend gets shot,” He stopped her midsentence, “If doing this stupid means I don’t have to watch Jay raise a gun to you then I don’t care what anyone has to do, I’ll go along with it if it prevents losing you.”

Eloise could have sworn something was playing guitar with her heart strings, it felt as if someone had twanged of the chords, the vibration echoing throughout her body as her eyes watered ever so slightly at Scott’s words. She knew he only ever wanted to look out for her but god she couldn’t help but feel as though he was against her at the same time, especially in moments like these.

“El, can I have a chat with you out the back please?” Han’s voice called through the hall, tearing Eloise from her silent moment before she pushed her tears back, refusing to cry in front of anyone in that room, Scott included.

She excused herself from Scott, shoving her hands in her pockets as she followed the older man through the backdoor of the hideout, stepping outside into another side alley, no exits or entrance other than the door that led back inside.

“What is it, Han?” She asked, sighing as she leaned against the crate that was opposite the door, staring back at the man who invited her out here while he stood in front of the door, blocking her outside. She couldn’t hide the fed-up expression on her face, just wanting to go home and be alone for a few hours. Her wish to ignore everyone around her resonated stronger than any other feeling in that moment.

“I need to ask you a question, right, and I want the truth,” Han spoke out, his arms crossing along his chest, his muscles making an appearance as he broadened his shoulders, “No bullshit excuses, just a straight answer, got it?”

Eloise fought to roll her eyes as Han spoke, looking up at the man, one of the few who she solemnly trusted, waiting for him to ask his question. Typically, anytime someone was brought out there or separated from the group for a talking to by Han or Jay, it usually ended with a few punches, some yelling and a black eye or burst lip. But when it came to Han and Eloise, the most intense it got was the odd shout; hands were never raised to one another in any shape or form.

“Why were you in Queens the day after your birthday?” Han leaned against the door as he watched Eloise shift on her feet, “I had one of my snitches out there at the weekend, keeping an eye out for potential buyers and instead of coming back to me with names of buyers or dealers, he came back with some information, telling me that you, Eloise Gray, were spotted leaving a certain individual’s house in the early hours of the morning. Care to enlighten me?”

“You’re really using my full name? ‘M not gonna lie, I didn’t think that your style, Han,” She rolled her eyes, a bitter laugh brushing past her lips.

God, he made her feel like a child being scolded for drawing on the walls or something, the thought crossing her mind if he sometimes forgot she wasn’t the little girl who he met all those years ago.

“What’s it to you anyway?” She shrugged, subtly trying to avoid the question at hand, knowing that Han wasn’t going to like the answer. Eloise knew of the disapproval of members of the Kings being places they didn’t need to be, Jay putting the makeshift rule in place of if you have ‘friends’ then you take them to your own place. She never listened to Jay anyway, well at least she used to not listen, now she didn’t seem to have a choice.

“Because from what I hear that house doesn’t belong to just anyone,” Han sighed, squinting his eyes slightly as the sun rose up over the roof, lighting up the secluded area where they stood. “And I have a feeling you know, as well as I do, exactly who he is.”

Eloise released a breath she didn’t know she was holding, throwing her head back against the crate she leaned on, her hands somehow digging further into her pockets as she was questioned, “So what if I do?”

“I just hope you realise how that looks to the others; the fact that you slept with a police detective and then all of a sudden the Ryders’ deal goes bust,” Han leaned forward in his stance, watching as Eloise’s eyes widened in realisation of what he accusing, “If anyone else was to know, you know there would be no hes- “

“I didn’t sleep with him!” She snapped, an accusing finger pointed at Han, “I’ll admit that I had the intention to, but I swear to you, I never slept with him. I didn’t even know he was a cop until the morning after.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Han sighed, “You know how it sounds, never mind how it looks, to anyone who knows of what either of you are.”

“And what am I supposed to do about that, Han, hm? I can’t change what happened,” She groaned, her knees bending as she knelt down, her head in her hands as she let out a frustrated yell.

Eloise noted the silence from Han, the only noise the alley being the sound of passing traffic on the opposite side of the fence to their right. Her heart thudded in her ears as she looked up, watching as Han’s brain ticked like clockwork, piecing together a plan that Eloise only dreaded to hear.

“Use it to your advantage,” He spoke after a moment, as if a wave of realisation washed over him, “No one knows that you know him and no one knows about Jay’s feud with the Ryders, you can use this to help you and to help us,” It was as if he suddenly hit a stroke of genius, his mind becoming blind with the possibility of the plan following through, “Reach out to the detective, and keep him busy for the next few weeks, give him false leads and keep the NYPD as far away from us as possible. Do whatever you need to do, sleep with him or don’t, hell even date him if you have to.”

Eloise couldn’t believe what she was hearing, her stomach twisting at the plan that was unfolding right in front of her, “So you want me to fake feelings for a guy I almost slept with in order to help Jay get his money?”

“No,” He shook his head, “I’m asking you to play along with this plan just until the deal is over and then you can cut him loose, no more pretending and no more secrets. This deal is going to make the Gypsy Kings a top tier association of the city. I need you to do this for me, please, Eloise.”

The twisting of her stomach couldn’t be ignored as she watched the pleading eyes of the man in front of her burrow into her own. She thought about Calum briefly, was it fair to pull him along all for the ploy of cashing in?

“How can you be sure he’ll even be interested in my ‘fake’ feelings?” Eloise asked, tilting her head to the side as she stood up straight again, “It’s game over if he doesn’t reciprocate.”

“Oh trust me, El, he’d be lucky for you to show interest, whether it be fake or not,” Han chuckled, taking a step closer to her as he rested his hands on her shoulders, “He took you back to his place that night with his intentions made very clear and considering he let you stay the night even when you said no, that shows that he’ll be more than willing to show some interest back if you give him half the chance.”

“And what if it falls through? What if it doesn’t work out?” Eloise let out a sigh, her hands finding the inside of her pockets yet again, her fingers fidgeting with their contents. She felt as if she was signing a makeshift contract, with every question she threw in Han’s direction it was another drop of imaginary ink in her pen as she signed up to the proposed plan.

“That won’t happen because you’re not going to let it,” Han calmly spoke, “Listen to me, El, this is your best option right now. You and I both know Jay isn’t afraid to follow through on a threat and so help me god if he did because you wouldn’t be the only one losing a life, I’d make sure he lost his in the worst way possible if he lay a finger on you.”

“So, you’re happy for me to play ‘happy girlfriend’ to a cop who could kill me if he finds out about our plan all because you can swear to me that you’ll kill Jay if he shoots me first?” Eloise scowled, eyes burning a hole in her boots as she stared down at them, “I could die either way and you’re happy to take that risk?”

“But you’ll be in control of the job, no one can interfere with how you run things. All you need to make sure you create as many holes as possible in the polices’ knowledge of that shipment,” Han whispered, cupping the young girl’s face to make her look at him, “This is all down to you. You play it how you want. You know I only want what’s best for you, El, and right now, this is your best shot. Do it for you, forget about Jay, forget about me, even forget about Scott. Do the job for the sole purpose of setting yourself up, maybe you can finally see somewhere new like you’ve always wanted, maybe you can see the world once this is over.”

Eloise sighed deeply when she felt him press a single loving kiss the top of her head, rubbing her cheek gently with the rough pad of his thumb before he stepped back to return to the inside of the hideout.

“Seriously, El, let this be something you do for you. Do it to make your family proud.”

Make your family proud. The words echoed in her ears as she stood there in the empty alley, a lump forming in her throat as she looked at the now empty doorway. How were her family supposed to be proud of a girl who was as broken as a warped record? How were her family supposed to be proud of a girl who got drunk to drown out the sad numb feeling in her brain so she could forget what it felt like? How were her family supposed to be proud of a girl who was about to play with someone’s heart for money?

Eloise couldn’t make her family proud. She could only make her family disappointed.

---

Tag List: @steviemae

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magnetar1 · 8 years ago

Text

Presence of the Dead

Entering Baltiasa. Town of my birth - Vestiges of a former life. A soul darkly seasoned in this place for all time . . . I did not wish to return, but felt there was little choice. These last couple years the old violence I felt as a younger man was returning & the only legal way I knew to neutralize it was by drinking more & writing less - From a fairly young age I knew I wanted to be a writer & had modest success, but now felt the urge leaving me. All I did was drink & pretend. Waking up too early, staring into the fog in my mind, counting down the hours before I could start drinking again. Getting on the bus, going to a job I hated, fantasies of snapping the necks of those who sat around me. My tyrannical mind leading me here, to the source of the violence that has stayed benign for most these years. While many kinds of violence or forms of rebellion might be regarded as youthful nihilism. Seek & destroy, burn the school, rob a gas station. Horrible acts by society’s standards, but generally no one gets hurt. Unless, of course, things go terribly wrong. In my case, an understatement. - - - Walking up to my old house with tears in my eyes. Practically a hovel when I left. Now little more than a pile of sticks, collapsed in front with some of the structure still standing in the rear. Windowless frames boarded up, graffiti scrawl over weathered plywood, symbols that are a mish-mash of other known symbols: swastikas looping out into flaming spirals until becoming scrawled names of made-up heathen gods. My old house was near the high school. Besides this, a cemetery. Alongside the main road leading to the edges of town. On one side a slough winding its way behind it, toward the ocean. Sludge of mud, bullheads & discarded animal corpses; human too, I imagined. On the other side there is a place called Indian Legends. Miles & miles of unkempt wilderness right in the backyard. Shot through with a transit of trails snaking their way to the ocean. Or ending abruptly in a tangle of dense forest. My two best friends & I spent entire summers exploring & getting lost. Up all night drinking the cheap, shitty rum that David liked to drink. While Bryan & I got stoned, tripped & look at stars. David was fourteen, a couple years younger than us, & already preferred alcohol to psychedelics . . . Suddenly, a shape lurking in the corner of my sight. A cold feeling I recall from living here. Best not recall too much, though, as I’d need to conserve my strength. Taking a flask out of my shirt pocket to ward the spirit away. I still remembered some of them by name even after all these years. Making my way to the shed out back. A trail winding through a dense thicket which in those days seemed like primordial lands. Toward a canopy of trees that eventually connected to a secret entrance leading to Indian Legends - On night journeys, with burning torches, in search of spectral portals to demonic realms. Things I now ascribed to a steady diet of D & D, heavy metal & horror films. - - - Sitting on a cracked stool stunned by how intact our temple seemed. Other than a few more weeds growing through cracks in the floor it was as we’d left it. No longer the upturned cable-wheel we used as a table. Nor the homemade bookshelf sagging with stacks of comics & porn: a secret compartment built in back where we could stash joints & hits of acid . . . I thought of all the acid I took in those years & now it makes me shudder. Getting ripped apart without even leaving my room. Listening to record after record on my headphones in total darkness. Opening my eyes to strange shapes in the corners. A palpable resiliency that never left. In the house. Town. Inter-dimensional. I want to forget it all over again. My muscles tightening just thinking about . . . I get back up to pace in the tall grass outside. I drain my flask. Walking back to the car a friend let me borrow - To fix my head, I’d told him. He had it in his mind that I was going to a retreat or something so wanted to help. I was beyond that, I thought, refilling the flask with a fifth from behind the driver’s seat. I tugged from the bottle itself & pocketed the three hits of acid I’d brought. - - - No one pays me any mind as I continue to pace outside. I think about breaking into the house, but did not have the courage. The house, itself, situated on the edge of a precipice that I did not quite understand. Leaving a trace after it crumbles. Sealing its flagrant energy back into the soil which erected it. All terrible things that have happened inside. With a history of violence before we got there. My father got it for cheap much like in a classic horror film scenario. The entire town was starting to degrade rapidly at that time due to the waning logging industry. A rather large house could be rented for practically nothing. Less, even, for a house like this. Even though they were all rimmed by a kind of destitution. Still, citizens of Baltiasa would not mourn the death of their town. A shift so gradual they never acknowledged it, or were too dumb to care. I didn’t care either. I wanted to make my peace & get out. Suddenly, the grinding mechanism called the city didn’t seem so bad. Only it was existence itself, bane of life, that had forced me to accept this as some kind of metaphoric suicide mission. Unable to say what I needed to say & trapped between worlds. All secrets buried deep making me sick. Many resided in this house. Haunted traits & a disdain for familial settings - Waiting for my father to leave for work every morning. After which, hearing footsteps approaching my bedroom door followed by a thing’s ragged breathing. I never turn around to see what is there. I don’t turn around now. I try to keep my mind on what it is I came here for. Still, I remain aware of their correspondence. Voices I heard in the basement telling me to kill them all. To cut off their heads in their sleep. To cancel their dreams with bloody screams: I am the last thing they see. Blind Incubus . . . For a moment I feel the same demonic power I felt then & I am nearly repelled back into a sane state. Tears once again mounting in my eyes. I feel the weight of car keys in my pocket & am crushed by an urge for escaping. Instead, I pace harder & wait for the sun to go down. Dusk evaporates into night as the wind picks up & tosses the trees around. It never occurred to me that it could rain this night. While the town itself hunkered in a low slung valley. Hills sprouting far & upward before sinking down. Creeks wind their way across beds of silt & stone, leading to the slough or out into the harbor. I’d cut across these many hills toward the Pacific. Tidal waves of soil rippling ahead to where it meets the ocean. It’s where ghosts of my past will meet. An undisclosed location fixed above a long stretch of beach. A cave burrowing through a quarter mile of sheer rock. Station for our secret ceremonies: Fortress of Leviathan. - - - Bryan & I discovered the cave together. Rumored as a spot for ritual sacrifice. Shamans in the old world went there to enter darkness & come out reborn: To sacrifice their own meandering spirits toward more evidence regarding the afterlife. Since, they say, it was a hive for local satanists. Mostly living in Cascadian foothills above the town line in burrows worse than mine. These were the poorest neighborhoods. A grey zone of meth-heads & veterans living off meagre pensions. Single moms who’d given up hope. Detritus of a third world nation beginning to show. Hid in overgrown places, nestled deep as worms. David came from this place. And although Bryan & I came from poor families, he was a different breed. Some kids at school referred to him as ‘the vampire’ at the beginning of his freshmen year because of his pale skin & frail demeanor. Always in black wearing headphones. He rarely talked to anyone but himself. Bryan & I became friends with him because we listened to a lot of the same bands. Smoking pot in the cemetery. David passing a cheap bottle of Rum around. Ditching school to wander the hills: the triad . . . Now, as I look down at those three tiny hits of acid in my palm, I think of David. It hits me hard & heavy. Nearly hurling the doses to the ground & getting out of there. Instinct becomes focus as my brutal emotions abate. Having trust in the moment. I swallow them down, unthinking. A grand meditation reduced to an afterthought. Realizing I’ve never been afraid to die & the flashes of fear I suffered are spectral. I was so young. Scarcely do I remember exactly what it is I saw. Writing it down from various angles. Snapshots of Hell. Waking up in the middle of the night with total entropy on the mind. To see it all burn for a chance at freedom. Meanwhile, returning to the wellspring of my nightmares for another look. - - - The acid kicking in. I stood with residual trepidation: At the foot of The Portal . . . Everything Bryan & I did was epic. The real world faded as we delved deeper into more truant manifestations - Beyond the shroud of the town. Our sensitivity toward what was considered the ‘normal’ world greatly dimmed. Holding my breath in my room every morning so I could summon the thing I was too frightened to face. Force of violence assumed in the form of its wraith-like stare. A messenger, perhaps. Or guide. A combination of the energy surrounding the place co-mingling with the synaptic edge that we were experiencing from the drug. One might argue it all away with this very excuse, but I awaken cold in the night to this day with the feeling that it’s never left - Bryan & I. Unafraid to die. Sorcerers. Spending morning hours after we’d endured the long night talking about how reality was changing for us. No longer devotees of spatial reasoning or fenced logic. Everywhere we looked there were signs of the other world. It is this feeling that has never left. Even as it��s the first time I’ve dropped in all these years. I’ve been unable to undo the retooling my consciousness received when Bryan & I were taking it every day & getting lost in the ghost-like radiance of it all. Procession of past lives into shadowed lands. I hear the dirge as I followed. Much sadness in the final days of my youth: a violent crossroads where I might have become a different person. A shrink, perhaps. Businessman. Or serial killer. All the ugly things I might have become. I keep them at bay by starting to write. All the demons & the ghosts. Everything gets in. Every relationship I’ve been in & each alcoholic nightmare. Family that’s abandoned me & so I’ve abandoned them. Still murdering them in their sleep after all these years - Weakened side. A sick return to my base person . . . Standing at the foot of the Portal about to go in. Wind howling around me like it did the night Bryan & I led David to the Fortress. Lifting my gaze to gathering clouds overhead & the dense haze of the night sky’s hammering thoughts. Rain comes hard at first before settling into a whispering drizzle. At tail-end of the procession they are taunting me. All the town’s dead shadows co-mingling with ancient spirits that lived here. Standing in the rain above a pale, flickering light. Irreal fog packs densely across its shimmering back. Rise of the Wyrm. When warm rain comes. All spirit clings to her. All moving along Leviathan’s course . . . - - - The howling winds made me think of my last few months here. I was nineteen & gaining on becoming a full fledged burnout. I rarely saw Bryan anymore until, finally, he held up a gun-shop with one of the shop’s own guns. Shooting it out from behind the counter with a couple of rednecks who’d walked in during the middle of it. Soon cops busted in to finish it: one clean shot to the head. Suddenly, I wish Bryan was here. He always knew how to talk me through. It made me feel bad, though, that I’d thought of him as evil in the end. Now, feeling evil myself, with hatred becoming clear & concise. I fought back the urge to turn it loose on Baltiasa itself. A point in space where time is stalled by lethargy . . . That’s how it happened. All the energies swirling up in that place at once, getting inside the collective mind - Wind howling around me. Nature’s screams co-mingling with the guttural cries of the dead. In place of shadows I saw faces. Now I could see beyond the hills, across galaxies, & I no longer felt human. Somehow, the grid of all existence was grasped. Turbulence of spirits at the moment of rebirth. I look into the heart of the town from above. It struggled just as I had struggled. It could not get past the point of remission - Disease without consent. Breeding ground for old serpents dropping seed in veiled & foetid gardens. Blind, slithering masters of forlorn kingdoms. - - - I follow Leviathan to her grave. The ocean. Alive with her strength & law. They couldn’t make her abate even as the world went on. Civilizations thriving & fading where time could still pick them up & tear them asunder. The shore slips off the edge of the world & into her widening maw. That’s what I feel like entering the cave of my youth. Momentarily, I feel the sublimity I used to feel when Bryan & I came here. Quickly, it withers away . . . So why had I come? To face an evil that was as much a part of me as I was of it? Or to sever my spirit from a violence that might take over at any time? I embrace the feeling before I’m able to move on. To see past it: shapes flickering to life. Crawling on hands & knees careful not to stumble. The cave’s not as big as I remember, but just as long - The moon does not penetrate so deep. Instead, a ghost-light is seen, hiding forms in its murky translucence. Electrical glow from that charged night. At the peak of our elemental powers . . . I hold back retching as I watch the image of Bryan take out his sacrificial knife. Glinting off cave walls to reveal all the symbols that have been scrawled there. Some that are similar to those on the side of the old house - Gateway, connecting ALL private underworlds, horrors that have followed me for years. A sanguine propensity for death over life. My inability to re-imagine it any other way. - - - I’ve lived through it every day, shadowy but prospective. Return trip: on the first day I forget the world I left behind. Burning around a dark seed we left. Everything else scorched in its wake. Stumbling through ashes toward the goal. David, on his knees, in a halo of smoky light . . . I swear that Bryan is burning from the inside out. He often talked about feeling like he was on fire while tripping. I could feel it, too, but on a current adjacent from his own. Poles meeting where David lied unconscious. His face streaked with vomit & blood. He drank too much & lost his balance stumbling along. Bryan is freaking out. He says there are spirits inside the cave that are trying to possess us. He explains the spirits are even older than those of the shamans who came here for night journeys &, when necessary, sacrifice. To the spirits themselves, both caustic & liberating. The only way to save ourselves was by absorbing one who is weaker; liberating his weakness with our strength. Bryan’s eyes as big as saucers as he waits for the child to go limp. Mad, inhuman, nature’s frenzied look. Later claiming to have had an obscure vision: raging ocean below a pregnant moon. Bilious forms in the undercurrent. Nauseating & serpentine mass. Tumorous . . . Afterwards, I never did experience those same evasive manifestations in my room & considered it a powerful sacrifice. However, taking harder drugs, drinking more. I spent the months following the 'disappearance' of David in a brilliant stupor. And yet I was content to see old demons replaced by new ones. The entire town (outside this experience) dissolved & I was eventually able to consider some mode of suffering to call my own. Ghosts of my youth became the internal grief of my adulthood as I tried escaping it through artistic means: to distance myself from the eventuality of my own mortal breakdown. A Sacrifice, to nothing, in the morning . . . - - - I look in Bryan’s eyes & understand that he’s done with this life. In many respects, I am too. Is that considered evil? Cutting David open with his sacrificial knife. Bryan feeds me parts that are both revitalizing & repugnant . . . Across the divide. I look back on my life from a vantage point of strangeness & grief. Baltiasa & its aftermath; mythic, cannibalistic fortune. I’ve survived with these rites in my personal canon. While the rest of the world sits & waits for instant communion - Vital force at center. Shaman’s gift. Nature’s everlasting council. Demons prey, but never attack. Benign to the ever expanding universe. Harboring true reality’s conquest. That we were never meant for this. False agendas of the weak. Sacrifice becoming necessary when rot awakens. While under the surface is a percolating dawn. So easy to see, yet out of reach. When we are are not the thing we aim to be. When purity of vision becomes a nightmare . . . Hunched, broken, grinding my teeth. Welling tears in darkness, I impress all my will on growing past it. How else will I go on with my life? Keep murdering until the feeling goes away? Drown myself in alcohol until the last drop takes me? Pounding a fist against the cave floor until my hand is raw & bleeding. I taste my own blood &, unsheathing the knife I brought along, consider going all the way. Letting my guts spill across. Uncoiling. Opacious. A serpent awakens. Possibly to let me pass without devouring my spirit, suffering no cognition of a world beyond its own.

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