#ellejos

[ellejos]

I completely let go of myself after finals so here is a list of things I implemented into my day to day life this month:

Intermittent fasting: I’m currently doing 20/4 having a smoothie or some kind of protein drink as a snack to end fasting, doing a workout and then having a large meal and fruits and oats as desert. Then I start fasting again, it works for me because my eating behaviour was out of hand

Nutrition: I cut meat and sugar. I‘m making cheat days on special occasions like birthday gatherings, etc. but mostly I’m eating veggies, high protein and high fiber.

Hydration: drinking 2 liters of water, tea and some black coffee in the morning every day. No soda, no milk, nothing

No addictive substances: no alcohol, no smoke. Trying to reduce technology aswell.

Fitness: workouts, stretching, yoga, Pilates, running, swimming, bicycling, volleyball. I try to be active everyday at least for 20 minutes. I‘m extending the time when i‘m fitter.

Mindfulness: journaling, reading, meditation or listening to podcast. You gotta keep growing through outside inputs.

Beauty: taking care of my look and my outer appearance. My skin, hair and nails are clean. My apartment and car are clean. I cherish and take care of myself and the things I own.

Love: spending time and giving love to my family and my closest friends. Making time for them and showing effort.

I’m currently on my second week and most days I’m feeling great. I‘m still not happy with my workout schedule but next week I got a buddy who‘ll help me get better and fitter and I’m looking forward to it.

Things I want to change, but didn‘t had time yet:

Applying for a new and better job

Having a creative hobby (drawing or writing)

More character improvement

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part twenty-five

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

A/N: So sorry for the wait!!!! I'm back and ready to write! Here's part twenty-five, hope you enjoy✨ it's a bit of a fluffy/filler chap but it leads into the rest ;)

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot. I don’t own “Thinkin bout you” by Frank Ocean.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

I have your back

[Next morning]

Luckily, the next day was Saturday and Sarah rolled over in bed with a content sigh. Lengthening her arms out to her sides, she patted the bedding beneath her: she had fallen asleep on top of the comforter. Suddenly, the evening before came rushing back and she stilled, a barely contained smile stamped on her face.

He must’ve carried her to bed, she realized as she stood and stepped out into the hall.

She padded into the living room where she found Noir scrolling through her mp3 player.

He didn’t need much sleep to function and had soon grown restless. First, he’d skimmed through the books she’d salvaged from her bookcase; two were charred beyond recognition but he appreciated the rest of the book collection. Then, he’d made his way back to the stack of picture frames she had piled in a corner. There was the picture of her in Tokyo, which he marveled at tracing the lines of her face; a few other pictures displayed rolling landscapes and he wondered if she’d taken them herself; another picture of a desolated beach sat at the bottom.

Finally, he’d fixated on her mp3 player.

He knew of her fondness for music and quickly scanned her playlists: a mix of rap, 90s rnb, and alternative rock were oddly bunched together.

Noir slipped her earbuds in, settled back onto the couch and let Dr. Dre, Ludacris, and Frank Ocean keep him company in the early morning hours.

Time passed, and soon he heard Sarah moving in her room. He waited for her to come around the couch, gazing at her as she went. She smiled, seeing that he hadn’t slipped his mask or gloves back on.

She enjoyed seeing his expressions, the emotions that seemed to flash in his eyes. It was like being granted a glimpse into another dimension, a version of Noir no one else was privy to. It felt intimate, like another line of communication they shared.

Sarah was surprised to see him holding her mp3 and she leaned in, checking the screen. Noir inhaled her scent and tensed at her close proximity.

“Hey, Kendrick,” she approved, “that’s a good one, it always lifts my spirits, y’know.”

He looked at the screen, printing the title, Alright, into his memory.

To his surprise, she plopped down next to him, pulling her legs up to the side and leaning into his side. He tentatively reached behind her, gathering her closer. Sarah grabbed one of the earbuds dangling from the device and slipped it into her ear. Gently, she took the mp3 from his hands and flipped through her playlists. Finally, she settled on one song.

A tornado flew around my room before you came

Excuse the mess it made, it usually doesn't rain in

Southern California, much like Arizona

My eyes don't shed tears, but, boy, they bawl

 She leaned into his side and let the mp3 fall back into his lap.

“One of my favorites,” she murmured, and he could avert the sleepiness in her voice. “Do you listen to music,” she asked.

He signed. A little.

Sarah glanced around for the notebook but assumed it had stayed in the kitchen. Too comfortable to go fetch it, she went with the alternative.

“Ok, I’ll go through some genres and you stop me when I hit the ones you like.”

With her close proximity, looking up at him through heavy eyelashes, he thought he’d do anything she asked. He knew he should feel concerned at the amount of trust he’d placed in her, the strong hold over him he’d allowed her to develop. But he’d chosen, and he felt liberated.

She was still waiting for an answer, and he simply pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Sarah settled her head back on his shoulder, “Hmm…,” she mused, “Let’s see, rap and rnb.”

He pinched his fingers close together. A little.

She continued, “How about pop,” small pause but no response, “Rock music? Punk?”

The woman sped through a few more choices, ranging from trap all the way to gospel. Finally, she ran out of options and paused, thinking of other music genres she hadn’t thought of. However, she was pulled from her train of thoughts as he brought one hand forward, his fingers dancing close to his knee.

She quickly caught on, “You play the piano?”

He squeezed her slightly against him, and she took it as confirmation.

“So, you listen to classical music, I assume.”

Noir nodded. It had always soothed him to play the piano. It was comforting to excel at something so delicate and precise, when those same fingers could destroy anything they touched. It reminded him of the control he was taught to maintain ever since he could walk.

Sarah covered his hand with her own, her warm skin tone touching his.

I'm lyin' down thinkin' 'bout you (Ooh, no, no, no)

I've been thinkin' 'bout you (You know, know, know)

I've been thinkin' 'bout you

Do you think about me still?

Do ya, do ya?

 Or do you not think so far ahead? (Ahead)

'Cause I been thinkin' 'bout forever (Ooh, ooh)

 “I’ve always loved music,” Sarah began, and Noir immediately focused on her voice. “It’s what I need in every situation. Sometimes it makes me feel strong, invulnerable…” she trailed off before clearing her throat. “Other times, I’m just detached from everything and I need it to remind me I feel, and I’m human.”

Noir brought his other hand over hers, trapping it between his.

In the early morning, cream colored light filtered through the curtains and lazily traced their features on the large couch. After being up for three days, Noir was starting to feel the pull of sleep. And with her softly leaning into him, the mp3 playing soft music between them, he felt at peace. Utterly detached from the world outside.

He gently moved her so he could rise from his seat, passing his ear bud back to her. Sarah’s eyes widened and she stayed silent waiting for his next move. He’d spent the night and she knew he probably needed to head back to the Tower. Still, she felt an odd tug in her chest, like a string tightening around her. She settled down on the couch, stretching her legs out. Propped up on one elbow, she pressed back into the soft material.

She was surprised, however, when he began to dismantle his suit. She looked away flustered when she caught a peak of his toned stomach. Finally, lifting her gaze from the carpet, she found him stripping the last part of his chest armor, revealing a grey shirt underneath. He set the armor and weapons on a chair in the corner and returned, the top half of his armor gone.

Sarah stayed quiet, watching him as he laid back on the couch, facing her. He finally looked at her and wondered how it was possible to find such comfort in another person. She smiled and let him slip an arm under her head, the other one tracing lines down her sweater-clad arm. They were so close, she thought he could read her mind.

With the soft, hazy morning light filtering through the window behind him, the man appeared angelic.

She whispered, “I’m going to make you a playlist,” she promised, slipping his earbud back in place. Noir felt a shiver down his spine at her touch and reveled in the feeling. “And one day, I’d like to hear you play the piano.”

He nodded and his fingers began to dance against her arm, as if he were playing right then and there. She smiled again and snuggled against him with a deep sigh. In the enclosed space between the couch’s backrest and Noir’s body, she felt warm and safe.

And at that moment, he too felt himself slowly drifting off to sleep in the morning light.

 [A few hours later]

A few hours later, they finally woke up. While Sarah stretched, Noir quickly patched his armor back on and ducked into the kitchen where he gathered his gloves and mask. She watched him grab their notebook and jot a few words down.

I must go back

She nodded, understanding.

I will be back, he quickly added. He then mentally paused and wondered if that was a mistake. On the internet, he’d found multiple websites with dating tips where over-eagerness was something to avoid.

Sarah smiled at that, “You’re welcome to come over any time.”

He mentally sighed in relief. The silent man looked at her and reached forward to push a strand of curly hair behind her ear. She gazed at his pensive face and wished she could search his thoughts, understand what was bothering him.

He finally dropped his hand and took the pen back into hand.

Stay away from Homelander

Sarah stilled. She already knew to stay away from that man and avoid being noticed. She was supposed to blend in with everyone else. She already knew all of this and more, so why was he telling her this?

She frowned, “I know to be careful…” she trailed off. “Is something going on?”

He gazed at her for a long moment before cautiously answering.

He seems fascinated by you, she read. Underneath he added, Bad feeling

A shiver ran down her spine and she suddenly felt cold.

I will not let him hurt you.

She nodded more to herself than to Noir. They would need to accelerate the timing on her and Martha’s plan. They needed to finish before someone sensed what was going on. Before Homelander looked into her profile a little too closely.

Finally, she looked up at Noir and spoke with a hint of amusement, “You know I can hold my own, right?”

Believe me, I know, he wrote, and Sarah was surprised to see a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She laughed but quickly grew serious again and thanked him.

He had her back and she felt comfort in knowing it.

Noir slipped his dark, skull-like mask back on and quickly head out the back.

She watched him disappear and thought of his words. Her heart sighed at the idea of seeing him again, while her mind sharpened at the work ahead.

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 ​  @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx @rayray1463 @mialexisrodrigues @angelocipriano @reborn-rekall

[demigoddessqueens]

Pass the happy! 🌻 When you receive this, list 5 things that make you happy and send this to 10 of the last people in your notifications!

Aww this is sweet! Thanks @shrinkthisviolet

So I’ll tag because I’ll lose track with sending 😅

@maviamania @bi-trainwreck @touchstarvedwriter @dinochickrox @saritaplantae795 @vesuvian-american @reconsidering-my-life-choices @katla19 @wonds-troy @ellejo @amrytheapprentice @mirablake-likes-cats

[my-soliloquy-chamber]

I was tagged by @vaassassins so...

Rules: it’s time to love yourself. Choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world. Tag as many writers/artist/etc. you want (fan or original) so we can spread the  love and link each other to awesome works!

Here are the links to my five. They’re all AC4.

Cow Island gen/humor

Kenway and the Sea Witch gen/humor

Celebration explicit

In the Captain’s Cabin very explicit

Reunions explicit

That’s actually all the fics I have for now... but a brand new Halloween horror fic is coming next Sunday!

I don’t know that many people on here, and I’m not sure how many of you write, but I’m pretty sure these people do.

@ellejo @assofedwardkenway @britishhotassassin

[ellejos]

75 HARD WEEK I: The Good, The Bad And The Okay I Guess

as some of you know I'm participating in the 75 Days Hard Challenge (75 Hard) and I successfully finished my first week. Therefore I'm doing a little recap and share my experience with you.

First of all: yes, I'm doing good and yes, I know I'm only 7 days in. It will get way harder eventually because right now I'm highly motivated. It's like the honeymoon phase of the challenge and my true consistency and progress will show during the middle of the challenge.

THE GOOD (Things that I surprisingly enjoy way more than I would have guessed):

drinking a gallon of water. The first 2-3 days I had to literally force myself to drink that amount of water but after day 4 my body actually craved it. When I wasn't drinking water for a few hours I felt extremely thirsty.

the outside workout (!) has so many benefits to my mental health (who would have guessed)

taking a progress picture every morning after waking up is personally the easiest task and the first thing I do.

Planning and preparing my meals is way more enjoyable than I would have thought!

THE BAD (cool, I'm outta here):

time management which is not bad in general because I'm well organized, but you gotta make sacrifices to fulfill your task and go to work. When it comes to social gatherings I became rather selfish and limited my time for social interactions with friends and being available (which - shocker - not everyone of my friends is happy about because they are used of me being a giving person and looking after others needs first).

people judging me, especially for my diet choice. A lot of people seem to find it offensive that I'm not eating meat and mostly vegetables and that I'm not craving cheat meals or alcohol. Currently I'm doing phenomenal without it and therefore I'm disappointed when people feel offended over my food choices.

during busy days the second workout is my personal nemesis. My job is full of physical activities and it's not possible to do the first workout before work, therefore I have to do one workout at midday and the second one in the evening.

BLOATING my friends. I looked like a pregnant person a few hours before giving birth. I'm glad I changed my diet a month in advance because I experienced bloating then, too (which is gone by now). But now I struggle with water bloating.

The Okay I Guess (woman who loves literature has to make time for reading):

I LOVE READING. Fiction, non-fiction. it doesn't matter to me. What does matter to me is being forced to implement daily reading into my day. I enjoy the reading task on my days off because I'm having a cup of coffee in the morning and sit down on my balcony to read my current literature and enjoy the dawn of the day. But on my work days, I'm literally forcing myself to read the 10 pages because it's currently hard for me to find a tactic for myself to enjoy it on work days.

Feel free to follow me on my journey.

Bisous!

[ellejos]

Hi to all my hot people out there. I just wanted to stop by and say thank you for your follow! It’s nice to know there are like minded folks out there, bisous.

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part twelve

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

  Posting new chapters on Wednesday and Friday!

 Under a nearly full moon

That same evening, Sarah received Dr. Roberts information and sent him an email. She explained that she needed to call him as soon as possible, signing with her birthname and nothing else. She was sure he’d remember her. He responded to her email about an hour later, suggesting she call him in the morning before eight o’clock.

Shutting her laptop, she looked around and sank further into the sofa. She felt lonely but didn’t want to call Martha who was already worried to death and likely to smother her in affection. Rising from the soft couch, she headed into the kitchen ready to brew some tea. As she filled a pot of water, she glanced out of the window over the sink at the miserable patch of land she called a backyard. At least it’s fenced, she mused. She’d tried to keep up with some gardening, but the grass wouldn’t stop dying and she wasn’t sure of what she was supposed to do.

A door from the kitchen led out onto the dying patches of grass and weeds, where she’d placed a small round table and two chairs. A couple dirt-filled pots could be found near the door. She’d bought flowers at a local greenhouse, but she’d never truly gotten the time to plant them.

The pot on the stove, she pulled the blanket tight around her frame, her arms crossed over her chest. She unlocked the door and moved the outdoor lantern onto the table. Sarah stared at the sad daffodils in their plastic vases, waiting for attention. Her mother, Tara Stacker, loved gardening. Sarah could sometimes smell the flowers, hear the buzzing bees, and see the most colorful butterflies in the office. It was a natural connection she made whenever thinking of her mom.

In the light of the lantern, she looked at the insulting, small excuse for a yard she owned. She could see her breath form small clouds in the cold air, but she’d already decided.

Sarah headed back inside, turned off the stove and slipped a tea bag into the boiling pot of water. She found an elastic and tied her hair back before slipping into her heavy winter coat.

Firmly decided, she marched back outside and stilled herself against shivering. She moved the lantern so she could see more of the yard. First, she busied herself with planting the daffodils into their respective pots. She watered them and mixed some coffee grounds in the dirt, as she remembered her mother doing. Then, she tackled the main issue with the yard: when she’d moved in, the most displeasing aspect of the space was the number of awkwardly positioned dead bushes. There were four to be exact, and she needed to uproot them.

And so, she set herself to it, pulling and pulling with all her strength. The first three took a while, but she ultimately tossed them to the side. The fourth, however, proved to be quite the challenge. She clenched her teeth and pulled. She wanted to finish what she’d started. Maybe she just wanted a yard where she could feel closer to her mother. She crouched over, breathing heavily. She felt the characteristic warmth fill her, enveloping her and guarding her from the cold.

Alarmed, she moved back and blew out some air. She waited until she was calm, and the cold came rushing back. She couldn’t help but let out a small angry imprecation.

And then she heard it. A small scuffle, maybe someone stepping onto unstable terrain. She slowly turned around to look at a dark corner, “Who’s there?”

The silence stretched for a few long seconds, until someone cleared their throat and stepped out into the light. Black Noir. He proceeded over to the bush she’d been having trouble with, and promptly teared it out of the ground with seemingly no resistance.

“I swear,” she accused, “you want to give me a heart attack.”

He shook his head no.

“No?” she shook her head incredulously, choking down her initial moment of panic. “What are you doing here?” she asked glancing at her watch. It was going on midnight.

He raised a hand and mimicked holding a pen and writing.

She stomped into the house and grabbed their usual notebook. Once back outside, she handed it over before taking a few steps back. Was he always watching her? How much did he know?

Wanted to make sure you were safe

She narrowed her eyes, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Your ex

She watched him carefully, but it’s hard to distinguish the true from the false when the person is hidden behind a mask.

And I missed you

She looked at him in another light, feeling her walls come crashing down. If he were here to kill you, he would have already done so, she reminded herself.

“Ok,” she cleared her throat, “I’ll—,” she hesitated. “I’ll just get some tea. You can sit.”

She hurried inside and pressed her back against the wall. What was she going to do? Things were moving fast, and while she found herself enjoying his presence, she couldn’t help but feel dread. He was a threat, and yet she felt safe around him. But when he finds out who you are? Sarah knew he was Edgar’s personal hitman, a tool to eliminate any threat to the company’s success. She’d soon become another target.

She hurried and prepared a tray with the teapot and two mugs, plus a straw for him. She headed back out, balancing the items, and setting them onto the miniscule table. Honestly, it looked even smaller when compared with Noir’s large frame, as if a grown man had been invited to a twelve year old’s tea party.

She poured the scalding liquid into their mugs and sat down. Immediately she wrapped her fingers around hers, reveling in the warmth it provided.

You are cold

She smiled, “You’re very observant.”

We can go inside

“Ah no, I can take it—plus, the stars tonight are lovely,” she switched off the lantern and looked up at the nearly full moon and twinkling stars around it. They would come and go, alternately concealed by the dark clouds crossing the sky.

She took the dark as a chance to look at him and found him already watching her. The light blue hues folded over his mask’s hard edges and he looked dangerous, and otherworldly.

They drank their tea in silence, bathing in the moonlight and enjoying the companionship. While she hated that he’d surprised her in a moment of weakness, she was ultimately glad he did. It guided her mind away from her memories and reminded her to not get lost in her own head. These were the nights she didn’t sleep, the times when her mind conjured up butterflies in the air to cope with her loss.

When she finished sipping the drink, she almost whined in disappointment. Her hands quickly grew cold again. She saw him move within the corner of her eye as he moved his chair to the side of hers. He reached towards her.

She tensed, ready to lash out. All he did was reach behind her head and tug on the band holding her hair back into a puffy ponytail. Immediately after freeing her hair, his hand lowered and grabbed a hold of her own, lacing their fingers together. She was surprised when she found that he’d taken his gloves off, their skin rubbing together. She sighed, content with the warmth he provided.

Sarah hummed, “You’re like a walking heater—it’s delightful.”

His shoulders lightly shook as if he were laughing before he settled down.

And that’s how they stayed for a while until she went to sleep, and Noir headed back to the tower. They stayed quiet, her hands pulled to the side and into his lap, covered by his larger ones. At a certain point, he even began to trace pensive circles into her skin, watching the moonlight highlight her features, and the bouncy kinks in her hair.

That night he was something solid to lean against. Shielding her from the cold night, he kept her tethered to the ground, keeping her from blowing away with guilt. He kept her head above water, keeping her from drowning in her thoughts.

Somehow, they clicked. In her sketchy backyard, minds momentarily void of anxiety and stress, they silently accepted each other’s companionship and watched the moon cross the sky.

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 ​  @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part thirteen

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

A/N: So here’s a short chap with Sarah and Martha hanging out. I want this series to slowly build up to what I have planned, since it’s highly unrealistic for either of them (BN and OC) to immediately and blindly trust each other. BN might be taken by her, but he’s not stupid. Next chapter will have more BN!! 

 Black coffee and light reading

It had been a couple of days since he’d last seen her, and Noir was growing restless. He’d left for an energy drink commercial he was supposed to star in and was very close to beheading the film director who had him endlessly repeating his scenes. He was disgusted by their superficial ways, this façade they all hid behind. He was no movie star or celebrity. He was a killer.

Kevin, the scrawny man directing the scenes called out, “And cut.”

Noir immediately stepped back into his usual strict posture as the smaller man moved towards him.

“I really liked this one,” he praised excitedly, “but why don’t we try this again? We want it to be intense,” he emphasized, “—keep viewers on the edge of their seats.”

The large, masked man stared down at him for a few seconds, enjoying the way Kevin grew visibly uncomfortable. As the director began trying to convince him, Noir simply moved past him and walked off. You don’t want to see intense, he thought.

Making his way through rows of props and sets, he reached his trailer and decided he didn’t feel like holing up in the cramped space for the rest of the day. Instead, he kept walking until he’d left the film set behind.

Soon, he reached a wooded area and delved inside, exploring the small dusty path curling through the tall trees. He imagined that Sarah was there with him, her small hand curled in his. Who was she? Was her name Sarah, or rather Marianna? Was she spying on Vought? He thought back to the night he followed her to the club, and he’d seen her burn the shape of her fingers into the man’s wrist. Noir was left stunned, and slightly impressed, but he couldn’t shake the doubt clouding his mind. He was meant to keep Vought’s enemies at bay, by picking them off one by one if they got too close. Was she the next threat they’d point out?

His mind drifted back to their evening in her backyard, soaking in the moonlight that filtered through the passing clouds. When he’d first seen her at the gala, he’d found her spectacular. She moved with grace and purpose, and her bright smile had immediately caught his attention. But now he’d gotten a glance behind the curtain and realized there was so much more. She was enigmatic, magnetic. He saw the heaviness of her shoulders, the maturity in her dark eyes. She was an observer, taking in her surroundings in a meticulous and rather calculating manner—just like him. There was a fatigue that lingered in her eyes, and her constantly being cold concerned him. But he could see the fire behind it all. She was hiding away under a façade of innocence and presented herself as small, vulnerable. He had a feeling she was anything but.

She intrigued him, and it was the first time he found himself so involved in another individual’s life and well-being. That night under the stars, he’d seen her on edge, lost at sea.

He hoped she was doing well.

..

It had been a few days since Sarah had seen Noir, and she wondered if something had happened. She wished she didn’t mind but was surprised when she found herself missing his presence. He was quiet, and yet reassuring. If only they could communicate more directly.

That morning, Sarah and Martha had taken a day off for the quirky blonde’s birthday. They’d decided to go to a local bookstore and coffee shop for a warm drink and pastry before heading off to visit her parents. The two women visited the petite shop every chance they got, always pleased with the homey and warm atmosphere oozing from the book-covered walls.

Once they’d settled down at a small table near the large windows, they ordered and chatted about anything and everything under the sun.

“How did your date with Dave go?” Sarah asked while taking small sips off her coffee.

Martha shook her head, “I was trying to avoid it.”

“Oh, come on, it couldn’t have been that bad—"

“—Worse”

Sarah caught the mischief in Martha’s eyes and knew she was messing with her.

“So, what happened?”

“Well, you see what happened was—” Martha began recounting the tale, “we were sat at dinner, and he moved in really close. His hand came over to mine, and he was flirting while talking about movies…”

Sarah watched her, entirely unconvinced.

“…and then you see, he said the wrong thing,” she took a deep breath, “he said he hates transformers.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “Oh for the love of God.”

Martha immediately dove into an explanation, “No, we love that movie, you and I. We used to watch it religiously every weekend—” she grew louder, while Sarah tried to quiet her down, “—and I will not take this kind of disrespect from some pretty boy.”

Sarah could do nothing but laugh at this point, her friend joining her.

After they’d grown serious, Martha attempted to draw information on the mysterious man who’d sent her, and was probably still sending her, all those gifts.

“What about your mystery man?” she began, “Are you still seeing him?”

Sarah waved it off, “Not really, it’s been a few days—”

“—a few days” Martha exclaimed.

Sarah drew herself into a professional posture.

“Oh, don’t go all Mallory on me now, just give me some details,” she asked, “please?”

Sarah thought on it, and ultimately decided that feeding her friend some details would do no harm, as long as she kept the man’s identity out of the picture.

“Well, we watched Die Hard together—”

“—like Netflix and chill?”

“No,” Sarah grew flustered, “just let me finish, you can run through your list of questions when I’m done.”

Martha smiled and nodded, deciding to not torture her until the end of the story.

“He’s a fan of Die Hard so we decided to do a movie night…” she trailed off. “And it was nice. Unexpected, but nice,” she continued, her mind straying to his uncovered hands, him pulling her into his chest for a chaste kiss on her head.

“Hey, you there,” Martha asked with a knowing look.

“And a couple nights ago he showed up and we watched the moon from the backyard,” she recounted, avoiding as much detail as possible.

Martha looked at her unimpressed, “Is that seriously the best you can do? Come on, tell me about him,” she pressed, “I want to know how you feel about him.”

“I honestly don’t know yet,” she sighed. “And he’s just…” she searched for the right word, “Unexpected.”

Martha rolled her eyes, “Okay unexpected—got it. Describe him.”

“He’s very tall, and strong. A bit dark and brooding," she almost snorted at the understatement. "And he’s quiet you know—doesn’t speak much. But he’s a reassuring presence, good-mannered and,” she faltered thinking back to him pulling her chair out for her, or insisting he wash their cups. “Kind, I guess.”

“So, he’s not stalkerish?”

Definitely. “No, not at all. Nothing worth worrying about,” Sarah reassured her.

Martha watched her carefully, “Okay. I guess that’s enough to keep me satisfied for a couple days, but I want the deets, girl.”

Sarah laughed, relieved they were closing the subject, “Of course.”

She looked down at the black coffee in her cup, her thoughts wondering off to their quiet encounter under an equally pitch-black sky.

Martha snapped her fingers, “I want to stop by Sephora before we leave, so drink up,” she winked, “I’ll get the check.”

And with that the blonde smoothly stood from her chair and headed towards the cute guy at the counter.

Sarah couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s antics. She quickly downed her coffee ready to leave the table, when the spine of a book beside her caught her attention. “Sign language for beginners.”

Conflicted, she stared at it. He might not even come back. Maybe he thought she was weird after that night in her awful backyard. Still, she let her hand move forward and pull it from the neat rows of thick volumes. It looked worn, as if it had been used extensively. She found it oddly comforting.

Finally reaching the front counter, she cut into Martha and the man’s flirtatious conversation holding up the book in her hand. She payed, and the two women finally left.

Once outside, Martha eyed her friend questioningly.

“What?”

“Why are you learning sign language," she asked. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with it, I was just wondering—is there any particular reason?”

Sarah kept her expression light and unreadable, “Just interested.”

I’m so stupid, Sarah thought to herself as she found herself hoping he’d return. So stupid.

Martha accepted her friend’s answer, and they hurried off ready for the rest of their day.

  MASTERLIST

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[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part twenty-one

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

Liar Among the Bunch

The woman stepped through the doorway and stopped to look at the large man to her right. He sat at the head of the table and had neatly placed three items on its surface: the sign language manual, their notebook, and a ball point pen.

I still like you.

Was he being truthful, or was she unnecessarily putting herself into further danger? She stayed alert, and decided to evaluate the situation, him, before making any final choice.

Before sitting down at the table, she moved forward and grabbed a dish off the counter, along with two plates. Noir simply watched her and was surprised to find her cutting slices out of a cake.

Finally, she sat down and handed him one of the plates.

“It’s chocolate cake, I made it this afternoon while waiting for you.”

He wrote. Are there more bombs?

She nodded in between bites. “Of course, there are more bombs,” she watched him closely, “You’re no god, but you’re no mere mortal either, are you?”

He kept his gaze on her, and she imagined him sporting an annoyed expression. He was probably thinking, Really? Really, Sarah, you had to place that many explosives? If they weren’t stuck in their current predicament, she might have found it amusing. He pointed at the oven and recording device, which she promptly switched off. He then reached for the notebook again.

Nice touch.

“Yeah, I’d like to think so,” she mused. “But my bills will probably be through the roof—even though that’s the least of my worries,” she said, giving him a pointed look.

Are you afraid of me?

I should be, she thought. The question sounded vaguely familiar, and she recalled him asking her the same thing the night they first met. She ignored it and proceeded with her own line of thought.

“My house is totaled,” she swallowed another bite, “and I’ve been made.”

She observed him and wondered how he would respond, and whether he’d confirm or deny this.

Are we friends?

Sarah was positive that he’d already asked her that. They’d been in the kitchen and, in the quiet, he’d wrapped her in his arms and left her with a chaste kiss at the top of her head. A connection had been formed, and he’d confirmed it with that act of softness, of affection.

Noir’s eyes scanned her face, trailing the line of her nose and the soft curve of her lips. Her cheeks, usually full and rosy, had lost their color. Her eyes were wary and her shoulders heavy under an invisible burden.

Her eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

He pointed at it again. Are we friends?

“I—” she stammered, before regaining control over her voice, “I don’t know. This complicates things.”

He nodded slowly, confirming it.

On either side of the table, they watched each other, carefully waiting for any sign of aggression.

Noir wasn’t sure what he was doing. This was a vast, unknown territory that he’d never had reason to explore. He did not negotiate; he tortured and killed, period. He was loyal. He carried out orders with no question or hesitation. And she lied. She lied. She lied. Her name isn’t Sarah and she lied about who she is.

She lied.

While Noir maintained his composed, impassive façade, Sarah could sense the building tension in the air. She waited for him to launch himself at her; she waited for him to crack and focused on anything that may give his intentions away. When she caught the slightest twitch of his hand, she rose, and he extracted a wicked knife. Kicking the table, she sent it with great force at him.

Noir was impressed, and immediately peeled himself out of the wall he’d wrecked. He flicked some plaster of his shoulder and stepped towards her. She’s a liar. Liar, liar, liar.

Sarah suddenly spoke up, and he halted.

“It—It’s the children,” she said, exasperated, “I need to expose Vought and help the children.”

He seemed to consider her words and she launched into an explanation, “They should be playing, and going to an actual school, and—” she searched for the right words, “They’re sold the false promise of being superheroes—I mean children? They’re impressionable and want to be special in that way.” Noir was still tense but listening closely. “But it’s not okay. And people might not care about adult Compound V trials, in fact they might endorse them.” She fixed her gaze on him, hoping he’d see what she saw. “But children?”

A bitter laugh escaped her. “When they find out Vought is using children, they’ll tear headquarters apart.”

His head tilted slightly as he considered her words. Thoughts raced through his head, running loops around what she’d said. Compound V trials on children? As far as he knew, they’d been shut down decades ago.

He signed, “Closed. Thirty years.”

A fire lit in her eyes and she countered “Do I look over thirty?”

She waited for him to process what she’d said and connect the dots.

“I know it didn’t stop thirty years ago because fifteen years ago it happened to me.”

Noir did not move, did not breathe for a few seconds. Conflicting thoughts swarmed him, and he felt like he was losing control as insanity seeped in. She’d lied before, and she could be manipulating him into letting her go. And yet, if she were being truthful… he’d be losing the one friend, the one connection he’d made.

He slammed the palm of his hand down onto the torn table, ultimately breaking it down further. They’d promised to shut that sector down, it was one of his only wishes. Either she was lying, or Vought was. He felt small, a feeling he despised more than anything.

Someone was lying to him again, and whoever it was would have hell to pay.

“Noir?”

Her voice was small, like a wavering whisper, as she moved closer. Sarah approached him with tentative steps, as she would when faced with a wounded animal. With his ragged breathing, that’s what he reminded her of: a wounded animal, one that was rendered feral by sickness and pain. In front of him, she placed one of her smaller hands onto his, stopping him from clenching and unclenching as he’d been doing for quite some time.

She felt exposed, and small in his shadow. But still, there was a certain warmth that could be found by his side. He was hurting and so was she, and she recognized it in his tension and inner conflict. She wondered if he had not known, and if he could distinguish right from wrong enough to realize Vought’s atrocious ways.

“You’re hurting,” she whispered, “And I’m sorry.”

He stared down at her, and she wondered if all that tension and build up of energy would now turn on her. She could imagine him snapping like an elastic stretched too far.

Noir felt lost as he gazed into her warm, dark eyes. She’d been tortured like him, and that’s what he recognized in her wavering strength, her energy. He’d always imagined her having a hard past, a heavy burden on her shoulders… On the verge of crumbling into her arms, he stepped back and drew himself together.

I’ll be back, he wrote on their usual notebook.

Then he turned and left out the back door.

.

Shaking with violent energy, he spent the night in his training room. He’d always been friendly with his demons, often going hand in hand. Now, he found himself fighting them with every jab, upper cut, and kick to the punching bag. When this didn’t offer relief, he took his knife and maimed it with every stab and slice.

He wanted more than anything for exhaustion to take over. He wanted to sleep if only for a couple of hours. And yet, his enhancement would not allow it. He never tired. He never stopped. And in the silence of his mutism, he was now drowning in his thoughts.

They raced laps around him: his loyalty to Vought, their experimentations, deception, violence, secrets… and finally, Sarah.

Come morning, he decided he would check and rule out the liar among the bunch.

He stopped and threw a towel over his shoulder. He dropped to the floor and just laid there, letting his thoughts wrap around him, choke him and, finally, retreat in waves.

He would kill the liar among the bunch.

 MASTERLIST

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[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part twenty-three

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

Homelander’s radar

[Next day, Sarah’s house]

The young woman woke up early, ready to settle into her regular routine. Wash up, workout, take a shower, eat breakfast. She went through the motions with energy, but detachment: her mind was miles away, constantly recalling the contents of Noir’s note.

Friends

She’d stayed up reading the single word over and over again. And every time she’d put it down, she’d soon find herself reaching for it again. Maybe it was disbelief, mixed with hope and exhaustion, that could explain her moment of exhilaration.

She read the words and wondered if she truly had made her way into his life, if their bond could grow stronger than the one that tied him to Vought. The short moment they’d shared on the elevator had her confused on their standing, unsure on whether he meant harm or protection. But the note had been a breath of fresh air, like waking from a nightmare and finally sighing in relief.

Sarah pushed the thoughts aside and gathered her things, ready to walk out.

 [Vought Headquarters]

Once lunch time rolled around, Martha and Sarah left their desks and headed towards the cafeteria.

“What’s with you today,” Martha asked her, eyeing her friend’s springy movements and fast pace.

“Oh nothing, just a lot of energy,” Sarah easily replied.

“Good energy?”

The brunette laughed and fixed her hair, not knowing what to do with her jittery hands. She felt stupid being this happy but couldn’t seem to help it. Her mind kept conjuring up the same word. Friends. The word seemed to have another meaning when applied to their situation. It was a sign of mutual trust. Most of all, it meant he no longer wanted to rip her head off.

“No, no, not that energy. I’m just feeling better, that’s all.”

Martha accepted it with a small smile and tugged her towards the long line for lunch. Martha was happy to see her friend so radiant after months of seeing her wither away. She could still catch the tell-tale signs of her exhaustion, but it showed less when she smiled and laughed.

While Martha held their place in line, Sarah went off to grab their drinks from the adjacent room.

She was not content when she spotted a certain caped man among the small crowd. He wasn’t in line and was speaking to another man in the corner.

She quickly made her way to the back of the small line, mentally counting down as the people in front of her payed for their things and headed back to their tables in the cafeteria.

Only two people were left in front of her when she heard someone clear their throat and lightly tap on her shoulder.

She turned and there he was.

“Hello,” he smiled pleasantly. “I believe we met, but I didn’t quite catch your name.”

As a matter of fact, Homelander knew her name as he’d already looked into her profile. Initially, he’d meant to satisfy his curiosity: it wasn’t everyday that Black Noir found himself a lady friend. So, it was curiosity, paired with slight bitterness that sent him searching for the woman’s details. He needed to know if she’d be a problem, if she’d be a distraction while he and Noir worked together to find Marianna Stacker.

And then the curiosity and jealousy were finally replaced with intrigue.

“Homelander,” she greeted as pleasantly as possible, “We did meet, my name is Sarah.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sarah,” he took her hand and shook it lightly, “And do call me John.”

Although confusion clouded her eyes, it was swept away as her number was called at the front of the line.

She glanced up at the tall man, and embarrassed, she moved forward. She placed her order and reached for an apple.

Another hand, quicker, plucked one from the basket for her. The arm curled around her, and she suddenly felt suffocated by how close he was. Her back to his chest, she felt caged.

“There you go,” he quipped lightly.

She kept her voice from shaking and thanked him.

Sarah hoped she was imagining it when she felt him deeply inhale before stepping back.

“Well, I’m off,” he smiled at her in what he believed was a compelling way. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

She nodded and hoped her smile was convincing.

Homelander walked away, still listening to her fast heartbeat and the rush of blood through her veins. He sighed happily and walked to his next conference meeting, not noticing the shadowy figure who had witnessed the encounter.

 [A few minutes later]

Sarah made her way into the cafeteria once more and scanned the line for her blonde friend. Reaching her, she held out one of the two drinks. She had to focus hard for her hands not to shake. The only thought running through her mind had heat pervading her chest and not the good kind. When she’d felt trapped in his arms, she’d felt the control over her powers slipping away.

The plan was that they lay low. They were supposed to lay low and let the storm pass as they looked for the lab and the code that would let them in.

But now she was on Homelander’s radar. She couldn’t think of a universe where she could call him John and not shudder in disgust.

Her light-hearted mood had officially turned sour.

The two women reached the head of the line: Martha ordered gnocchi and Sarah opted out of eating at all. Her stomach was in a knot, and she felt nauseous at Homelander’s proximity only minutes before.

“Are you sure? You need to eat, Sarah,” Martha voiced.

But the brunette shrugged it off, “Don’t worry, I had a big breakfast. I’m not that hungry.”

They took their food and sat at a table near the large, paneled windows.

“Are you sure you’re okay, you can try some of my—”

Sarah smiled and reassured her again that everything was, indeed, going well.

They delved into a heated conversation in regard to a Netflix series that they’d watched not too long before. Sarah was explaining why she thought the series was so thought-provoking when she faltered.

There, approaching down the space between separate tables, was Noir. He walked with perfect posture, all straight back and shoulders squared. He looked dangerous, mysterious, and Sarah had trouble pairing him with the man who’d watched Die Hard with her, the man who’d held her hands under the moon. He passed by her, and a shiver slid down her spine.

She continued with her explanation but found herself distracted.

A few minutes later she saw him pass by her again, leaving the room with what she imagined would be his lunch. Two brown bags swung lightly from his gloved hands with each step.

She brought her eyes back to Martha who sat staring at her wide-eyed.

“Yo, what was that?”

Sarah brought her steaming cup of green tea to her lips, blew, and took a sip, as she thought of a way to avoid this conversation. She knew she’d tell her eventually. She considered Martha to be her sister, somebody trustworthy and caring that she’d grown up with and couldn’t imagine living without. She would tell her, but the company’s cafeteria was not the right place to do so.

“What was what?”

Martha’s expression grew unimpressed.

“You know what,” she pressed on, “Your reaction when he walked by.”

Sarah thought about it, “Well, I did have a pretty violent encounter with him a couple days ago.”

Two violent encounters actually, she thought to herself.

“I know, but I know you and that wasn’t fear or anger or…” Martha watched her closely, “You had this far-away, dreamy look in your eyes.”

Sarah felt warm and hoped her cheeks wouldn’t give her away, “Well, it was a good fight y’know,” she teased, “I released a lot of energy, clocked in a good workout…”

Martha laughed, “You’re telling me your fight with him was fun?”

“Well yeah, in hindsight it was exhilarating---really got my blood pumping.”

Martha laughed and, while she knew it wasn’t the whole truth, she trusted Sarah would tell her at a better place and time. She was sat there in front of her, bouncy coils framing her face in a cloud of ringlets. Cheeks flushed, she tried to cover her face by taking small sips from her cup.

It was hard to imagine her fighting such a dangerous supe as Black Noir –and enjoy it, at that—but she knew it was possible. At times, Sarah could sometimes seem so small, dainty, vulnerable, but Martha had seen her fight before and she was a force to be reckoned with.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, but for now it’s enough,” Martha sent her a knowing look.

Sarah nodded, and smiled a little.

They spent the rest of their lunch break talking back and forth about anything and everything, falling into their usual light banter.

Martha took her tray away and Sarah waited for her at the cafeteria’s entrance. Together they ascended the stairs, once again returning to their desks and computers.

A surprise awaited the brunette.

Perched on her desk was a familiar brown bag, a note pinned to the front.

Immediately recognizing the signature, she checked the bag’s contents: gnocchi with parmesan, a spinach salad, and a white chocolate chip cookie.

The note, simple yet thoughtful, melted her worries away.

You didn’t eat. See you tonight.

MASTERLIST

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[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part eighteen

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

A Meeting with Mr. Edgar

By the time the firefighters had shown up, Black Noir had already left and taken all the security tapes with him. There could be no evidence of his weakness, nor of his betrayal.

Because that was what he’d done: he’d betrayed Vought and helped a woman who obviously meant to harm this institution. Retiring to his living quarters he sat on the edge of his bed and awaited a call from the man in charge.

“My office, tomorrow at ten o’clock,” the man spoke concisely and promptly hung up.

The darkly clothed man rose from the bed, and slowly made his way to the bathroom. The damage to his suit was noticeable: the charred exterior and the handprint seared into his chest plate were the scars left from the fight.

And he felt pain. It stemmed deep in his chest below that handprint and developed into a tightness he could not relieve. This had been her secret. The fatigue in her shoulders, her constant wariness: she was a spy.

When she’d unleashed the blast, he should’ve gotten up and fought back. After all this time, he didn’t even register pain. He was unstoppable. And yet, once he’d realized it was her, he didn’t want to.

He removed his suit and stepped into the shower, letting the warm water slide over his tight muscles. He placed a hand against the wall, and let it run down his back, hitting his shoulders almost violently. Conflicted, he was torn in two by his thoughts. On one hand, the loyalty for the company who had made him insisted he uncover her identity, find her, and terminate her along with her plan. On the other hand, a part him wanted to understand her motives, what had pushed her to such an act. Why had she lied to him?

He leaned his forehead against the wall. She was his friend, and she’d lied. If there was one thing he’d learned from the books he read and the movies he watched, it was that friends were supposed to trust each other. They didn’t lie.

This explained her guarded attitude during their first encounters. It explained her having a dagger in her evening dress. Why did she let him get close? She could have sent him away that first time they met. He’d taken care of her ex-boyfriend, but she didn’t owe him anything. Still, she’d allowed him in, and they’d grown comfortable with each other. They were friends.

And now he knew her secret.

.

The morning after, at the established time, Noir headed up to Mr. Edgar’s office. He sat in the waiting room, and it was always a sight to see. This dark, silent man sitting on a pristine white sofa. He felt out of place amid the light pastel colors that made up the office’s interior.

He was soon escorted inside, where he bowed his head respectfully and took a seat in front of the man pulling all the strings.

The man peered at Noir through his glasses, “How are you, Noir?”

He answered with a nod and a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“Well, let’s get straight to the point then,” he clasped his hands together. “Last night, Vought was attacked by a terrorist who, it turns out, has powers,” the man paused and licked his lips before proceeding. “When I was made aware of the hacking I sent you, one of the most powerful and ruthless beings on Earth, to stop her.” His tone was calm and detached but held an underlying fury to it. “The suit you were wearing was the one that needs its camera repaired,” he pointed out, “And the recordings have been stolen. So, tell me why, pray tell, didn’t you stop her?”

Black Noir reached out to a blank piece of paper on the large, mahogany desk. Mr. Edgar pushed an expensive looking pen his way. Taking it into hand, Black Noir should’ve told him everything. Her name, their meetings... Instead, he wrote:

She was stronger than expected. I will find her

Mr. Edgar skimmed the page looking down through his glasses.

“Yes, you will find her,” he repeated. Noir knew he meant it as an order. “And you will bring her to Vought. Does she have the USB?”

It was destroyed by the blast, sir

Mr. Edgar watched the subject in front of him. “We think we know who the terrorist is. Her name is Marianna Stacker.”

Black Noir’s mind immediately recalled the woman’s blonde friend calling out to her when she’d burned the rude man outside of the club. Marianna.

“She is believed to be extremely dangerous. She redirects energy and is a highly destructive force. Uncontrollable, unpredictable.”

Noir nodded as he absorbed any and all information Mr. Edgar would share with him. He never asked questions, only listened, and carried out orders.

“She’s a serious threat. Looking at our scientist’s projections, she might be strong enough to eliminate you and Homelander,” he looked down at the impressive report they’d left for him.

Instructions, sir

“You will find her and incapacitate her while her guard is down,” he placed a syringe full of light blue liquid on the desk. “You will then take her to compound 15, in Montana. It is the only place where we can hold her. I’ll have a company plane take you there. This must be handled swiftly and discreetly.” Mr. Edgar paused, “Do you understand?”

Yes, sir

“Good,” the man smiled pleasantly, “Then you are dismissed. You will keep me updated.”

As Black Noir stood, he nodded and crossed the room towards the door where he was stopped.

“And son,” Mr. Edgar spoke, “Do not fail me.”

The superhero nodded once more and left the premises with the potent sedative concealed in his suit. And as he left, he realized just how confused he truly was as to where he stood.

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 ​  @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx @rayray1463

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part nineteen

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

A/N: Sorry for the wait guys!! I'm porting two parts to make up for it!

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

The Waiting Game

While Black Noir spent the rest of his morning in his personal training room, Sarah stayed home and replenished the energy she’d spent the night before. While he beat the punching bag off its hinges, she poured green tea into her cup and cuddled into her blanket.

The one thing they both shared, however, was the confusion clouding their thoughts, which was sending Noir into a downward spiral. The violence in every strike balanced the tenderness of the moments they had spent together. Her soft, curly hair. Strike. Her extremely dark eyes. Jab.

“I really like you, too.” Uppercut.

In the meantime, Sarah sipped on her hot tea and let its warmth spread through her. It helped soften the existential dread that held her in a vice-like grip. In the morning light, she felt safe, but she knew she’d see him again. Once the sun went down and the shadows stretched across the ground, he’d be back.

Once she was dressed, she braved the cold air and rapidly made her way to the small convenience and grocery store she usually ran to for small necessities. The small bell signaled her entrance as she pushed on the door covered in advertisements.

.

Around four o’clock, she decided to venture out and make a trip to Dave’s Grocers to grab some supplies. The USB was undamaged, and she’d already made multiple copies of the information before stashing them all away. If she died, and he searched for the thumb drives, he’d hopefully stop after he’d found the original and a copy. Little did he know, she’d made five.

Sarah moved swiftly and with purpose as she weaved through the rows letting the items drop into her basket. Finally, she stopped at the front counter and waited.

A familiar young man exited from the back. He’d helped her find the straws for Noir when she was preparing their movie night. It felt like a long time ago when circumstances were completely different. When they were simply friends enjoying a movie or searching the stars at night.

Maybe it was Bernard, she thought. As he grew closer, his tag confirmed it.

“Hey,” he smiled, “It’s you, pink straws.”

Amused, Sarah laughed and nodded, “Yeah, that’s me.”

He began to scan her items. “That guy you’re seeing is still treating you right?”

She almost burst into hysterical laughter. He’s coming after me tonight, but hey, we’re doing great.

She contained herself and offered the simplest answer, “Yeah, he sure is sweet.”

Bernard smiled at her genuinely and gave her the total. However, his carefree expression soon morphed into one of confusion.

“This is an awfully weird assortment of items you got here,” he voiced his doubts, while scratching the back of his neck.

She payed in cash.

“Is it really,” she questioned innocently. “I’m just doing some home renovation, adding a couple things here and there.”

Understanding passed through his eyes and he smiled to cover his embarrassment.

“Oh jeez, I’m sorry, my bad. It’s none of my business anyway.”

She waved it off and grabbed her bags, “That’s okay, have a good one.”

“You too.”

As she exited the store with all the items necessary to build multiple bombs, she couldn’t help but smile at his naivety. She was definitely renovating: she was adding nail bombs, booby traps and trip lines to every corner of her house. She would not go down without a fight.

.

As ten o’clock rolled around, Sarah was ready. She suited up and checked her weapons. The nail bombs and trip wires were in place. The thumb drives were hidden and would be protected from the explosions.

Staring at her living room, she wondered how they’d made it to this point. She’d known that first time they spoke that it would end like this: lies, a fight, and ultimately one of their deaths. The dread curled tight in her stomach at the thought of hurting him.

But her purpose was greater than them: bringing Vought to the ground had to be done, she’d been waiting to avenge her parents, the other children, and the life she’d never had for over a decade. She could not afford to hesitate now. Not when he would come at her full force and either kill her or, even worse, capture her.

She shook herself from her thoughts before drowning in the memory of his rough, warm hands shielding hers from the cold. Or when he’d admitted she was his favorite person.

“I really like you”

“I really like you too”

She wondered if she’d imagined their connection, their reason.

Ultimately, she pushed those thoughts away and lowered the hidden foldable stairs that led to the attic. She closed the hatch behind her and lit a candle, waiting in the dark, cramped space. It had become a waiting game now.

And so, she waited and listened for his arrival.

MASTERLIST

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[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part seventeen

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

  Harry’s Saloon

Once she stepped out of the elevator, Sarah immediately shot forward and down a deserted alley. She rapidly slid her suit off and changed into regular clothes. The woman couldn’t help the shivers wracking her body from the freezing air. That, paired with the cool numbness left by the surge of energy, kept her wide awake, still kicking. She slipped the wig off, letting her two French braids fall freely.

Shouldering her bag, she stuck to the shadows and took a few turns before emerging on a very busy street. She checked her watch. Eleven forty-five. She weaved through the crowd and began making her way to Harry’s Saloon.

She pushed on the heavy doors at its entrance and slipped into the warm interior. Scanning the area, she quickly found Martha who was waiting for her at a table in the back. She pointed her out to a waitress who nodded and allowed her past the counter. She finally sat down amid the clouds of smoke milling from other tables.

“Tell me why we chose this place again?”

Martha observed her, trying to gauge her friend’s mood and state of mind.

“Well, it is mysterious, and I find it interesting. Plus, everyone here is too busy smoking or getting high to listen to our conversation.” The blonde gestured behind her at the woman singing a smooth melody on stage, “And Gloria is just incredible.”

Sarah hummed in agreement. Gloria really was incredible. Her voice was beautiful and the melancholic melody she sung had a way of seeping into its listeners very being. It was moving.

Martha cut through her thoughts, “But that’s not why we’re here.”

The other woman agreed, “No, it is not.” She fiddled with the thumb drive in her pocket and gave a quick look at the surrounding tables. Nobody was paying them any attention, but she still felt exposed. She clasped her hands together and rested them on the table, leaving the device out of sight.

“Do you have it?”

“Yeah, I have it,” she hesitated, “but we need to check that it wasn’t damaged.”

Martha stilled, “What do you mean—”

“I got into an altercation at the archives, I’m sure it’ll be all over the news.”

The blonde fiddled with her bracelets, worry etched across her face.

“Oh God, that’s why you said you were going to disconnect it, and it was already out. Someone unplugged it—," she began to ramble before focusing on the important thing. “God, are you okay?”

Sarah waved it off, “I’m fine, just a bit shaken…,” she trailed off. “We knew there was a possibility that not all of them would be at the Gala—”

“—Fuck, it was one of them,” Martha grew agitated.

“—so, I wasn’t expecting it, but at the same time I kind of was.”

A waitress walked by and Sarah asked for some water and a sandwich. Martha ordered a beer.

The blonde looked like she’d fallen into a trance, staring at Sarah in a mixture of shock and admiration.

She leaned in and whispered, “Who was it?”

A few moments passed before the woman answered.

“It was Black Noir.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, while Sarah focused on staying awake. It had been a long time since she’d tapped into her abilities, and she was feeling it. She was drowsy and terribly hungry.

The sandwiches arrived, and they thanked the young waitress with kind smiles before returning to their brooding state. Sarah dove in and devoured the sandwich as delicately as possible. Sitting in front of her, Martha put the pieces together.

“You fought Black Noir,” she said, and Sarah couldn’t discern whether it was a question or affirmation.

Nonetheless, she nodded.

“Is he dead?”

Sarah stilled.

Martha reached out and grabbed her hand, forcing her friend to look at her.

“I see the signs, Sarah—” she sighed, “You look tired as hell, you’ve got some ashes on your face as if you’ve been in a fire, or explosion.”

“Plus, you���ve got the munchies,” she added with a smile. Still, she immediately grew serious. “Look, honestly I don’t care about him—we both know what he really is—"

Did they though?

“I care about you. I know how this takes its toll and I need to know how bad it was—it is.”

Sarah understood her preoccupation. Her abilities were such a wild card, it couldn’t be helped. Near the end of her stay at the Vought Clinic, the doctors had labeled her a ticking bomb. Her enhancement allowed her to manipulate energy and matter. They called it energy redistribution and were particularly interested in understanding the underlying mechanism which allowed her to do so. During testing, they found that she could transform potential energy into kinetic energy. This meant she could move, or violently destroy matter with the lightest touch. Her only limitation was the need for physical contact, and the ultimate uncontrollable nature of such powers.

She’d left the clinic before they could figure out how to stabilize them, and, once she’d gone, there was no need since the genes responsible for her enhancement had gone dormant.

Sarah recalled the fight. Noir.

“He’s alive and it wasn’t that bad,” Sarah searched for a way to reassure her friend. “I was in control; I knew what I was doing.”

Martha scanned her eyes and finally sighed in relief, “Thank God.”

Amid the smoke and sad melody wafting in the air, Sarah touched on the topic that would probably raise red flags.

“I’m not going in tomorrow; I’m going to call in sick.”

Martha almost choked on her drink. “Wait what?”

“I’m going to make a copy of the thumb drive for you to have, and make sure it wasn’t damaged.”

“Are you sure? They’re going to be looking for whoever did it, and you know they’ll probably be checking employees as well.”

“Well, we’ve been working there for a long time and,” she gestured to the saloon, “At the time of the break-in, we were enjoying Gloria’s singing at Harry’s Saloon.”

Martha seemed skeptical but ultimately agreed with her logic. They would probably investigate relatively new employees first, those with weaker ties and sense of loyalty to the company. Moreover, they’d changed some information in Sarah’s file so that she wouldn’t be a person of interest.

She didn’t know that Sarah was actually waiting to understand Noir’s position. Why did he give her the thumb drive, why did he stop fighting? During her time in training with Mallory, she’d witnessed his loyalty to the company in the unsolved crime scenes he’d left behind. After their time together, did he feel a certain loyalty towards her, as well? 

Where did he stand?

Martha concluded, “Well, phase one complete, motherfuckers.”

She clinked her beer with her friend’s glass of water. “Now we just let it play out and lay low. They won’t know what hit them.”

Sarah nodded, smiling with her friend. Still the relief she should have felt was tarnished by a lingering sense of dread. Why did he let her go? Was her cover blown?

Sarah retreated into her thoughts, which attacked her with the memories of their few times together. In those encounters, she'd felt warm, awake, protected. She realized with a blinding certainty that she felt for him, and while she wasn't sure what it was that made her heart ache at the thought of him, but she felt like they'd met for a reason.

She recalled it being something her mother would often say: everything happens for a reason.

Certain souls and people are meant to find each other within this messy and wild world. Everything has a reason.

What was theirs?

  MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 ​  @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx @rayray1463

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part fifteen

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

A/N: SEMI IMPORTANT Hey guys! Just a heads up. When they use sign language, you will be able to understand from the context and signal verbs, as well as the fact that the dialogue is italicized and in quotation marks. 

A general rule for this story: italicized words are thoughts, italicized words with quotation marks are signed.

Hope this doesn’t cause any confusion!!

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

  Posting new chapters on Wednesday and Friday!

  The Art of Sign Language

On Thursday night, she stayed at home, brimming with anticipation. She felt alight and ready for any possible obstacle. However, one thought kept tugging at the corners of her mind. Noir. She should be thankful he’d lost interest, since this meant she could operate without a watchful gaze following her every move. And yet, it saddened her. She’d been close to learning the truth about the man beneath the mask… now, she was left with her questions and doubts. She gazed at the worn sign language book laying dejectedly on the coffee table in the living room. Oddly, she missed him.

But that Thursday night, right as she came to terms with his absence, and the end of whatever dangerous dance she’d began with him, he proved her wrong.

Hearing a knock at the door, Sarah cautiously raised from her seat and inched towards her entrance. Slipping her dagger into her back pocket, she peered through the peephole and was surprised by the sight. There he was. Noir was there knocking on her door. She hesitated. Had he found out who she was? Was he there to finish her off? He undoubtedly knew she was at home, since she was sure he could hear her heartbeat through the door. She ultimately decided to play dumb. The brunette quickly fixed her hair, pushing her locks down. Glancing into the entrance mirror, she wiped the dumb smile off her face and stood taller, more confident.

She immediately unlocked the multiple locks in place and swung the door open.

She took him in, a slight smirk playing on her lips.

“So, you learned how to use the door,” she playfully questioned with a raised eyebrow.

He nodded and quickly glanced to his sides, which reminded her of how exposed he was under her porchlights. She quickly ushered him inside.

He moved into the space with ease, and Sarah gladly noted how he seemed more comfortable than their initial meetings.

As they moved into the living room, she asked, “So what have you been up to?”

He raised one finger as if to ask for a moment and slipped a phone out of one of his many suit pockets. He tapped away at the screen and finally held it out for her to hold. It was a video on YouTube, and as she watched, she realized it was a commercial.

Her eyed widened. “Oh,” she understood, “you sir, have been busy.”

He scanned the room and saw their usual notebook lying on a counter. He quickly swept it up and wrote. I wanted to stab myself.

She laughed, “I’m sure—,” she watched the video again in amusement. “Man, they put you to work.”

He scribbled Ha Ha.

“I mean look at those shiny knives, and that ninja flip—”

Her playful teasing was cut short as he bent down and picked up the small booklet on the coffee table. He stared at the title before turning it for her to see: Sign Language for beginners.

She could imagine the questioning look twisting his features. He tilted his head in confusion, waiting for an explanation. Noir couldn’t help but wonder if she’d gotten it for him. If she truly wanted to communicate with him. He found that she liked him enough for them to be friends, but did she really enjoy his presence enough to invest her time in learning to communicate with him this way?

She inhaled deeply, thinking of how to explain herself without seeming clingy or overeager. She was afraid of scaring him away.

“Well, I just thought it’d be nice to communicate in a more direct way, y’know—it’d surely be easier, since you wouldn’t have to write and all,” she began, taking quick glances at him to gauge his reaction. “I started learning some, and if you’d like I can teach you what I know… we could make up some signs and it would just be nice, don’t you think?”

He stayed silent, and she attempted to fill in the void. “I wasn’t sure if you were coming back, but I saw the book and I thought of you. It’s alright if you don’t want to.”

He tilted his head the other way, as if he were seeing her in a new and different light. She couldn’t tell if it was a good sign or a bad one. Finally, he moved forward and stopped right in front of her. She focused on breathing, as he placed the palms of his hands on the sides of her head. He lifted her face towards him and gave her a simple kiss on the forehead. Noir gazed at her intently before moving past her and sitting on the couch.

She stood still, just as shocked as she was after he’d shown her affection in the kitchen many nights ago. She moved towards the small couch chair she usually occupied when she heard him clear his throat.

She glanced back at him as he patted the seat beside him. He held her light blue blanket in his hands. She felt warm at the gesture and couldn’t help the blush that was probably flaring across her cheeks. She sat beside him, and he carefully wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. She raised her legs onto the couch, sitting crisscrossed in the corner facing him.

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

He nodded and placed the book between them before taking the notebook back into hand.

Teach me.

She smiled and he felt warm under her attention.

“Okay, well they suggest starting out with the alphabet and then moving onto key words or phrases for conversations,” she began explaining.

Noir pulled his gloves and set them aside. She briefly glanced at them, noting the web of scars she hadn’t noticed before, but quickly returned her attention to his mask.

As she taught him the alphabet she found it amazing how focused and committed he was. Maybe it had much to do with his powers, but he was an extremely fast learner and they quickly went through the alphabet, signing yes and no, and simple conversation starters.

At a certain point, her legs began to itch with the need to move. Halfway towards numbness, she uncrossed them to stand and shake them out. She was stopped, however, when Noir scooped her legs up into his lap, running his hands over her calves clad in sweatpants. He massaged them and she sighed in delight.

She tried to sign to him by stringing together some of the words they’d learned, “Feels amazing”

He nodded, and she imagined him smiling at her. A bright white smile, contrasting his toffee brown skin. She withheld the blush creeping up her neck and distracted herself by practicing different signs with him.

He fixated on her face and the content look in her eyes.

“I really like you.”

Sarah raised her eyes to him, caught off-guard.

He took the notebook back into hand, as they hadn’t yet covered the signs he’d need to explain himself. She was his happy place, a radiant sun that kept him warm.

In fact, you’re the only person I really like.

Once she’d read his confession, she laughed. “Well, you’re not much of a people person, are you?”

He shook his head. I’m a people person if you are the person.

Sarah cast her eyes down watching his hands lightly gripping her calves.

She signed in the silence, “I really like you too”

She was falling fast, and she didn’t know what to do. She enjoyed his presence and missed him when he was gone. And if they were in another world, it might have worked out for them. But she was not Sarah Burns, she was Marianna Stacker. She was no regular Vought employee; she was a spy plotting its downfall. Already the night after, she would be infiltrating the building to steal and replace information. Her and Noir were opposing forces, in a precarious balance.

Still, she laughed with him when she made mistakes and practiced their new form of communication, perfecting her signing. He suggested some signs for certain words, and she found it comforting, almost intimate. They had a way of communicating that was truly their own.

Oh, how muddied the lines had become. She felt a connection, an underlying understanding passing through them. What would happen to it when the truth emerged?

  MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724  @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx  @rayray1463​

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part fourteen

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

A/N: This chapter is IMPORTANT FOR PLOT

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

  Posting new chapters on Wednesday and Friday!

She means trouble

Not much happened over the next few days. And so, Sarah spent the hours focusing on her upcoming infiltration of Vought Headquarters. After long months of settling in as data scientists, her and Martha had blended in and learned the company’s rhythms and patterns. Now, it was time to proceed with phase two of the plan and begin the race towards the end. They would disclose evidence of Vought’s experimental trials and expose them for the power-hungry monsters they truly are.

The brunette found herself released from the tension that constantly held her hostage. She felt her senses sharpen, her mind focus, and her body experience relief in anticipation of the act. She’d waited so long for this moment, and she looked forward to it like a child might await a theme park fieldtrip.

She’d decided to take her fieldtrip to Vought archives on the upcoming Friday night, after mostly everyone had headed home. Those who were most likely to still be in the Tower would be occupied by a Gala held on the other side of the city. It was the perfect set of circumstances and she’d have ample time to get in, grab what she needed, and get out.

The plan was very precise, and extremely clean-cut. Sarah would sneak into the building using the backdoor, and a fingerprinted glove Mallory had slipped her way. She’d make her way to Vought Archives and incapacitate the guard, using his keycard to gain access to the library of files and computer servers. First, she would pinpoint the server related to Vought’s experimental labs and insert Martha’s virus-loaded thumb drive. Remotely, her friend would hack into the system and download all the information. While they didn’t need all of the easily accessible and undoubtedly clean information, this would confuse them as to what the hackers took. What they really needed was the algorithm used daily to produce codes for gaining access to their restricted-access labs.

Once Martha texted her that the download was complete, she’d make her way to the employee section. The company was not supposed to maintain such in depth records of their employees, and so they were kept in easily disposable paper files. Should a federal investigation loom on the horizon, they could easily destroy or move the evidence to another facility. If they’d been uploaded onto their servers, it would be much harder to scrub them clean. Especially when certain scientists and technicians had been stamped as terminated. Sarah would exchange her file with one cooked up by her and Martha for the occasion. It was close enough to the original but left out certain details that would be deemed concerning by Vought.

And once they had the algorithm, Martha would work on cracking it. They’d bide their time, and wait for Vought to find a victim, find the person responsible for the hacking. Only then would they proceed with infiltrating the labs, taking the evidence, and freeing the patients. Vought would crumble.

Her thoughts would occasionally move onto Noir, who she hadn’t seen for a while, not at her house, nor at work. She’d feel the urge to ask about him, since she occasionally had lunch with the PR guys, but she’d always bite her tongue and refrain from asking the question. Maybe he’d grown bored of her. Sarah should have felt relief, especially as they proceeded with their plan to expose the company. She didn’t need an additional threat watching her every move. He’d been kind, but how would he react to her true identity?

She’d ultimately drown those thoughts, and focus on the task at hand, whether it was studying, exercising, or working at her desk in the data science and advertising office.

Yes, it was finally time. Sarah would make it right. She would be in control this time around, and she’d make them pay. She fiddled with her mother’s necklace as the smell of smoke pervaded the air, and butterflies flitted around her.

She closed her eyes. It was time.

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 ​  @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx  @rayray1463