#i sketched this almost entirely while i was waiting in car parks

[strangegoingsons]

technoblade wip that i may or may not finish idk

[cr4yolaas]

blue spring — wonder

prev: guilt | masterlist | next: spaces inbetween

he’s a little startled to see her already inside the studio, waiting for him. her attire is a bit more comfortable than what he’s used to seeing her wear in public, but he pays no mind to it. instead, all he can focus on is the task at hand — hauling all of the paintings to a museum thirty minutes away, before their dinner reservation.

her panic is clear on her face. a box of wrapping that’s almost clear and a handful of translucent brown tape sits on the ground beside her, where she stands with her fist to her lips and her hand against her hip, as if deep in thought. he takes a moment to observe, just as he always has. there’s a few more paintings placed against the walls, each of them imprinted with her signature on the side. those weren’t there a few days before. he wonders how much she went through to get it all done.

slowly, he traverses around the room, strings of sunlight spilling through the small windows a few feet above him and illuminating his path. he traces each detail, each line, each hue that’s been embedded on every canvas, and he thinks about what it was like for her to paint them. he thinks of the hours she’s spent in here alone (he hasn’t seen many other students come to this building, after all), and he questions how she puts up with it; how she can bear to sit on a stool for an eternity painting and sketching whatever image comes to mind.

each work tells a different story, ranging from soft and delicate bodies to scenes that are more saddening and gore-y. the girl and her two-headed lamb sits in the center of the line. it remains his favorite of all.

“i’m sorry to call you here on such short notice,” she says once she notices his observations are complete. “i’ll pay you back tremendously. not just for this, but for putting you through so much over these past few days.”

“it’s no problem,” he reassures her. the words spill out instinctively. “you did a lot for me already. you know, with the tutoring and all.”

his remark has her pausing in her tracks. “oh,” she begins, her memory of the exam (that they were supposed to prepare for together) dawning on her. “how did the math exam go for you?” to combat the guilt crawling up her spine, she draws her attention to the packing materials and gets to work while waiting for his response. her hands drift across the surface and trace each line made by her own hands before concealing it all beneath the wrapping. she watches as he copies her movements.

“it went really well,” he exclaims, seemingly proud about his score. “i scored much higher than i thought i would. thanks to you, of course.” the sentiment catches her off guard, and she pretends it doesn’t affect her. it’s sickening, how malleable she is when it comes to him. she swears she was a mess just a few days ago. but now, everything seems fine. it feels like she’s capable of getting better.

he’s much stronger than her, she realizes, and he goes through the wrapping process with ease, contrasting her struggle to fit the material over the entire canvas. eventually, his hands find hers and lift the plastic over the edge she can’t quite reach, and for a moment, she feels his breath on her skin. it’s electrifying. it’s horrifying. she wants more.

but she can’t have more. so, instead, she begins to open the back door of the studio, the afternoon sunlight seeping into the room as the heavy metal creaks open. she did ask tsukishima for permission to borrow his car, thankfully. the vehicle waits outside the backyard, conveniently parked right against the curb. kageyama is already taking the artworks from the studio before she can say a word. she nearly smiles at his eagerness to help, to be there for her.

instead, a small frown finds its way onto her face.

she’s not meant to be attached, she reminds herself. it’s the same words she told herself a few weeks ago. and yet, regardless of how often she repeated it in her head, she managed to fall victim to his generosity.

it feels wrong. she isn’t sure why — maybe some subconscious in the back of her head is telling her that she’s undeserving of his kindness, or maybe it’s the bitter taste on vulnerability on her tongue. she was meant to work, to strive, to succeed independently, but something about him fights against the methodology that’s been ingrained into her since she was young. for a moment, she watches him pace back and forth between the car and the building to bring each canvas into the trunk, and despite his strenuous efforts to ensure each one makes it inside safely, he doesn’t ask her for help once. as if he’s content doing these little things for her.

the guilt comes crawling back, once more. she lifts the last few pieces into the back before he can do it himself and closes the door with a soft thud. kageyama sits at the driver’s seat — another overwhelmingly nice surprise he throws her way.

“why are you driving?” she questions him, as it’s in her nature to oppose what falls against her routine. he only smiles at her, softly, the corners of his chapped lips curling up ever so slightly. he seems to be out of breath, and she feels too bad to let him drive but she doesn’t have the time nor patience to argue. begrudgingly, she finds her way to the passenger seat, and as soon as she buckles herself in, he’s already leaving the campus. the directions are already on his phone, and a soothing playlist is already on the speakers. he already knows her too well. it’s haunting, but she can’t find it in herself to complain.

when they pull into the staff parking lot (as directed by her lovely event coordinator), a handful of people and a person she assumes to be the director stand at the door. they’re already rushing to help her with her items by the time she can even step foot outside the car, and briefly, she feels special. the dreams from her youth once contained in her little heart of fancy dinners and a group of her own servicemen are being showcased before her, just in a more mellow fashion. the remnants of that little heart blossom at the sight.

kageyama sits back as the staff carries the canvases away and watches as she converses with the director. she’s nervous, as told by the fiddling of her fingers against the hem of her shirt and the constant shifting of her posture, but it’s clear that she’s even more excited. he likes seeing this side of her — the one overflowing with love for the arts and an unrivaled passion. it’s refreshing to see hints of a smile on her face as opposed to furrowed brows and baggy eyes (although, the baggy eyes never quite go away), and he longs to see more of it. he yearns for toothy grins and heartfelt expressions and genuine joy out of her, but his heart and mind can’t handle that realization just yet. so he shoves it back down to the pits of his stomach, acts like he isn’t discovering just how much he likes being around her, and observes in silence as she returns to the car, the air around her much lighter.

the drive to the restaurant (which yachi picked out as soon as the plans were made) is silent. it's an hour away from the art center, but with the afternoon traffic, it may as well be two hours. however, she doesn't stress over it, so he doesn't either. there are hints of exhaustion riddled all over her face, and he wonders, again, what it must be like to see the world through her eyes. to live so dangerously within a tango of self-destruction all for the sake of a dream to create. he admits his obsession with volleyball isn't very different, but within her, there's something more than just that. it's something he can't put a name on, and yet, he sees it within her every time — when she's studying, when she's working, when she's conversing about the thing she loves the most — it's always evident.

he thinks, for a moment, that he likes that part of her the most. whatever he had buried deep down within himself resurfaces, this time stronger. in his peripherals, she's fast asleep, her head limp against the window just as it was when they picked her up from the studio a few nights prior. he wonders why she didn't choose to dress up for an occasion celebrating herself. he wonders why she's so drawn to the arts. he wonders why he's so attracted to her passion, unwavering and quiet all the same. he wonders why he can't bring himself to hate her, even if her inability to prioritize herself over her craft hurts both herself and those around her in the process.

he doesn't want to admit his lack of immunity to her. so instead, he continues to drive. his eyes stretch across the horizon of cars before him, and the scenes of the city on his left and right, as if to distract himself from whatever cognizance is coming upon him now. but no matter how hard he tries, he can't escape it. so much so that, when they pull into the parking lot beside all of her friends (if she considers most of them that), he doesn't get out for a while, nor does he bother to wake her up. all he wants to do is bask in her presence. it's terrifying.

it only takes a few minutes for her to stir from her slumber, and when her consciousness slowly slips back into her grasp, she's almost startled to see him still sitting beside her.

"what are we waiting for?" she asks, the remnants of sleep still laced in each syllable.

he doesn't want to look at her, in fear of doing something he definitely shouldn't do. he looks straight ahead into the fancy double doors and replies, "nothing. i just wanted you to rest up first."

she doesn't question him any further, and slowly, she begins to collect herself. she removes the hoodie she's wearing to unveil a slightly more formal top, adorned with a ribbon in the center of the neckline and bits of lace peeking out from the short sleeves. it's the version of her he had grown accustomed to before he bothered to speak to her. before he got to truly know her.

he waits patiently as she straightens herself up, delicate hands smoothing out wrinkles in her pants and the stray strands of hair. they exit the car together, and when their presence is made known to the group (who have been waiting inside the lobby for a little too long), there's an amalgamation of complaints regarding their tardiness and excitement at their appearance.

it's peaceful. he looks to his right and sees her smile, once again, although this time, it's full of warmth. he can’t stop staring. he wonders if she truly feels happy, at this moment in time. he hopes she is.

𝜗𝜚 blue spring is half written half smau atp

𝜗𝜚 yn in her healing era after going thru the worst breakdown of the century thank god !!

𝜗𝜚 btw everyone gets drunk at the party except for yn tsukki and kenma (two of which are designated drivers)

𝜗𝜚 tsukki yachi and yams were struggling on their commute to the restaurant since they’re so used to driving tgt. they kept arguing over which stops to get on and off at

𝜗𝜚 kageyama’s last text to her was genuinely the most impulsive decision he’s made in relation to her so far. he sent it with one hand over his eyes his phone far away and his face turned away

𝜗𝜚 yn almost went on an unprompted rant to the director about her exhibit but remembered the dinner party </3

𝜗𝜚 i’m so sorry for making kags n yn so dense but it had to be done. awkward unable to comprehend own emotions guy x passionate cold-shoulder shoves all her emotions so far down she doesn’t even recognize them anymore girl is the trope for this one

taglist: @mfcherry @eggyrocks @scxrcherr @yuminako @girlkissersco @diorzs @causenessus @kyo-kyo1 @k0z3me @shironagi @lovingvi @bunninio @hisfuture @lilchubbyyy @gsyche @ghostreader0307 @gumiiiiezzzz

[twice-inamillion]

Playing In The Future Home

Fluff and Smut

1.4 K words

(Jihyo and OC making new memories)

"I can't wait to see where we are going to build our future house," Jihyo said as she looked outside the window. The two of you are on your way to visit the plot of land that you showed her before through FaceTime. 

"Minji gave me the keys to the gate so we can park the car inside and walk around." Jihyo puts up her hands closer, "Look, my hand is shaking from how excited I am right now." 

"Don't be nervous. I know you are going to like it. We are almost there; just a couple more minutes."

You exit the highway and immediately make a left turn. Then drive down the windy road up a small hill and turn right into a private road. Only two hundred feet into a private road filled with trees and bushes, you are met with a large metal gate, "I'm going to open the gate; I'll be right back." Once the gate is open, you drive inside and close the gate around before driving again. The dirty road eventually leads you to a grass-filled field, "we're here." 

The two of you get out of the car; Jihyo walks around for a bit as you get your backpack and binder. "What do you think?"

"It's amazing, and it's big. I love the trees and bushes that surround the entrance." 

"Yes, Minji said that the previous owner fenced the entire estate so their animals wouldn't get out. Makes it easier for us because it ensures our privacy."

 You take out your binder and show Jihyo some sketches that you and Minji worked on for the past two days. "Look, here are some examples of the potential layout," as you point at the 2D view of the whole estate. "This right here is the layout of the entrance layout just came in front, and we are standing here," as you point at the spot you are standing in. "The lot is huge, and it does have a slight hill towards the back and trees throughout the lot. What Minji and I thought was to keep the entrance untouched, just grass and the house in the middle. Because the area has so much space, we have the option of a one-story house that has spread out or a two-story house. We can also have detached buildings like a music room and multiple guest houses away from the main house but still close. We can even have a large pool with a building on its own, but we would need to childproof it. We have a lot of options to make this place perfect. Towards the back of the lot are multiple trees and a small stream that runs across the end of the property." 

The both of you walk around, and Jihyo tries to visualize the house with the binder in her hands. "I like it, and I think the members will be happy. When do you think we can buy it and start building?"

"I talked to Minji about it, and she said that the owner has wanted to sell the property for a while since all his family has moved to the city abroad and has no more use for it. Regarding the building, we can talk to a few contractors and get the permits ready after we buy the property. Shouldn't be too long, but it all depends on the layout of the house."

"The faster, the better; I can just see the babies running around and having fun with each other. I want Jisoo to have a memorable childhood and grow up safe without the eyes of the public on her and the rest."

"She will; just imagine her playing with the twins on a swing or going down the slide. It's going to be perfect." You hold her hand and start to walk, "let me show you the best part." The both of you walk up toward the end of the property, where you see a hill surrounded by numerous trees. There is a special tree that is much older than the rest, and as you both get closer, Jihyo is amazed by its size, "Wow, the tree is huge." 

"The tree isn't the only thing; turn around." Jihyo turns to see a fantastic view of the landscape. Her future is right before her, and the rest of the world is in the background. "Omg, the view is wonderful. Thank you, oppa," hugging you. 

"Everything here is for us, our future. You deserve the whole world, and I will try my best to give you that." Jihyo tears up from happiness, and the both of you share a passionate kiss. 

"Thank you." 

After settling down, you both sit on the blanket and snacks you brought and enjoy a bottle of wine. Jihyo, a good drinker, enjoys the wine more than you and, little by little, gets tipsy. "Oppa, want to mess around a little bit? We're alone, so we can have a little fun," giving you a sexy wink.

"For you, I'm able to go all the way." 

She pushes you down, gets on top of you, and starts to unbutton your shirt. "Don't do anything; I'll take care of everything and just enjoy." With your chest exposed, she kisses every inch of you, "oppa, you have a manly chest; I love it." 

You give a soft moan as she kisses your neck, "Jihyo, it hurts." 

Jihyo looks down and sees the large bulge in your pants, "Oh wow, hard already?"

"It's just that you're too sexy, I can't help it."

She undoes your pants and fishes out your cock. "Don't worry, little fellow; you'll get your turn soon enough." Once she's done with your neck, she stands up and pulls down her leggings and panties. Jihyo sits on your shaft, causing you to moan, "Ahhh, you're bending my cock." 

"Hmmm, I can feel your cock throbbing, but it's not time yet," as she begins to grind on you. The feeling of her lips hugging your cock throws you over the edge, and Jihyo knows it. "How do you like that? You like it when I grind my pussy on your cock?"

"Jihyo, please don't tease; let me put in it." 

"Just a bit longer," as she increases the pace. She puts more of her weight on your cock, causing you to moan in pain. "Fuck, I can feel your hot cock throbbing. You're such a bad boy, but good job on holding on. Here is your reward." 

Jihyo grabs your cock and lifts herself, aligning it to her entrance. You watch as the head of your cock spreads her lips apart, causing you to gasp, "Fuck, you're so tight." She drops her whole weight, and her cunt swallows you whole, "Ahh… fuck, you're cumming already?"

You grab her waist and hold her tight, "take all of my cum!" She places her hands on your chest and digs her nails as she begins to ride you as you cum inside her. "Let it all out; I'll milk you of all you're worth." 

You see her lustful eyes, the eyes of someone who's found her prey. She rides you as you cum, her tits swaying from side to side, "come on baby, do you like how I ride your big cock? Your cock that's filling me up with baby batter. Stay hard for me, okay." 

Jihyo, with her head on your chest, can hear your heavy breathing, she knows that she has you in her hands. "You think you can go for another round?"

“Ye…yeah… I… I can."

She sits back up, ties her hair in a ponytail, looks you in the eyes, and begins to ride you once more. You can help you move your gaze, but she says, "Don't, look at me. You're mine." 

All you hear now is the noise of flesh grinding against each other, Jihyo's tight walls choking your cock. 

She rides you for about five minutes until you cum once, filling her womb with baby batter. "Yeah… just like that. Fill me up with your cum” as she tightens up her cunt. Once she's done milking you for the second, she lifts herself up and lays beside you. 

Haven gotten a happy ending you look at her erect nipple and attach yourself you it. "Aww, my poor baby, there, there. Suck on mommy's tits until you're full, okay" as she caresses your head. You fall asleep attached to her breast as Jihyo hugs you tight in her arms. 

[butgilinsky]

someone will ache for your soul // np

warning; a lot of language i’m sry, argument btw best friends, talks abt a shitty ex bf but there’s nothing explicit

summary; in a world where you acquire tattoos across various parts of your body once you fall in love with someone, you have to hide yours from your best friend. 

word count; 6.7k+

a/n: kind of a soulmate au but not really i guess? i saw this prompt somewhere online and idk where it’s from so the general idea of gaining tattoos from those you fall in love with is not mine but the rest of the fic is. okay thx bye(:

add yourself to my nhl taglist!

When you were younger, you loved it. You loved looking down at your ankle and seeing the small butterfly just beside your ankle. You’d had it your whole life, though you still weren’t entirely sure how a tattoo grew up with you, but you accepted it. After all, it’s all that you knew. 

Everybody’s born with a tattoo on their ankle, a small tattoo that has theirselves embedded into it. However, the older you get the more you realize that it’s not the tattoo you’re born with that makes the biggest impact on you, it’s others’. Every time you fall in love with somebody, your skin makes room for their tattoo on it. Your mom’s tattoo, a small star on her left ankle, shined bright from its place on your father’s wrist, somehow separate from the couple tattoos he collected over the years. 

You remember the day you found out about the tattoos, perched in your mom’s lap and listening to her talk to your aunt about it. You remember tracing their tattoos with your small fingers while they told you various stories about their loves and how they grew up collecting tattoos on their skin. You were scared, asked your mom what happened if you never got any more than your single tattoo on your ankle. She told you that you would, that anybody would be lucky to collect your small butterfly somewhere on their body. 

You remember the day you got your second tattoo, the paper plane that sat on the back of your left shoulder that now held the role as a painful reminder of your first love. You loved Cory, but the time for the two of you had come and gone. The paper airplane, though never in your line of sight, was still a painful reminder of the times you shared with the boy and how he broke your heart at the end of it all just before moving to college. 

You had to go through senior year alone, newly broken up with and with your best friend hours away from home. You couldn’t blame Nolan, not when he was out doing the thing he loved so much. Being in Brandon was good for him, it was all that he wanted, and it wasn’t all that far away from Winnipeg anyways. You still drove out to see Nolan’s games, even if it ran up the miles on your car and had you spending late nights driving back home by yourself. You would’ve done anything for Nolan, and it truly showed during your senior year. 

Nolan’s draft day was a rude awakening for you. You jumped up when his name was called, hugging him as tight as you possibly could before hiding your giddy expression behind your hands. You were excited for him, even if he was going all the way out to Philadelphia. You wanted him to be happy, and you could tell within seconds of his name being called that he was going to do just fine in Philly. 

You didn’t notice until you got home and your heart sank into your stomach. Your adrenaline high had worn off, and the reality of everything around you began to sink in. You knew what it was the second you laid your eyes on it, black lines etched into the skin of your sternum. You thought it was an odd placement, though it was hard to miss it when you stepped out of the shower and it stood tall and proud and ready to be found. 

You knew what it was, you’d seen the shape etched into Nolan’s ankle far more times than you could count. It mocked you, the snake coiled up the same way your memory sketched it out in your brain, and now it was imprinted perfectly into your skin. You touched it, rubbed it, tried to wash it off. You had just taken a shower, just washed the day off of you and down the drain and now you were standing in the middle of a hotel bathroom, rubbing at the spot between your breasts mercilessly. This couldn’t be happening, not to you, not when Nolan was about to move thousands of miles away from you. 

But it was happening, because the black line that followed no real pattern never faded, despite the skin around it turning raw from your insistent attempts at washing it off. It was here to stay, no matter what happened in your life down the road. It didn’t matter that you had no heads up, no warning that you were falling head over heels in love with your best friend. 

You knew it wouldn’t wash off, but that didn’t stop you from trying. These tattoos were forever, you knew that. You learned from a ripe, young age about obtaining your love’s tattoo. You learned about it growing up, you talked about it with friends and family, hell this wasn’t even your first tattoo that wasn’t your own. You knew the drill, you knew the routine, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. 

You were 18, watching him sign contracts and make agreements of his big move in a few short weeks. You couldn’t believe it, that you were losing him in a time like this. It made dropping him off at the airport all that much harder, cheeks wet and eyes bloodshot as you clung to him for dear life. You knew his parents wanted to say bye, that his sisters were waiting patiently while you cried into his shoulder, but you couldn’t let go.

He didn’t know about the snake on your sternum, nor did you plan on telling him. You couldn’t drop a bomb like that on him just before he moved to a different country, finally living out the dream he’d had ever since you could remember. Nolan wasn’t Nolan without hockey, and you were aware of that. You were painfully aware of that. 

So you didn’t tell him. 

You spent too many nights curled up in your bed, clinging to your pillow to muffle the whimpers and whines that pushed through your lips and out into the air. You tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest at any given moment, and you did everything in your power to keep everything under wraps. You couldn’t tell anyone, no matter how bad it hurt to be in love with your best friend that now lived so far away from you. 

It was hard, hiding it. You had to hide it from your family and friends, and sometimes that was easy. During the cold months you were seemingly off the hook, but when summer rolled around and your friends dragged you out to the lake every chance they got, you were in a bit of trouble. You had to carefully choose what bathing suits you wore and had to make sure nothing slipped or faltered throughout the day. 

You’d made it three years without a slip up. Even on nights when Nolan came home and you were mere inches away from him, you couldn’t find it in you to tell him. Even when he was curled up into your side and holding you against his chest in the most comfortable way, you couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t make a move on him. 

And now you were in Philly, standing in an arena that had you shivering but smiling brightly from the opposite side of the glass. You smiled every time Nolan skated by, even more when he assisted Travis in the first goal of the game and scored one of his own late in the second period. You were buzzing, adrenaline pumping and excitement shining deep in your chest. Watching Nolan do what he loved would never get old, not when the smile he wore was enough to wash away any fear or worry you’ve ever had. 

You remember nights when you couldn’t sleep and Nolan would hold you. You remembered nights when you were crying over the phone to him and he snuck out of his room and into your own. You remembered fights you had and the way he made you walk home one night after one of your bigger ones. 

You were walking out of TIm Horton’s, mere feet away from Nolan’s car before you tumbled into an argument you’d been trying to avoid for a few days now. You were dating Cory at the time, and Nolan couldn’t believe you were telling him that you couldn’t go to his game on Friday night, regardless of the fact that you’d promised him for weeks now that you’d be there. It was hard for you to catch games during the week, but this one was on a Friday night with plenty of time for you to finish the school day and drive over to Brandon. 

But now you were telling him that you couldn’t go, and no matter how sorry you were, Nolan couldn’t forgive you. He said you’d blown him off for Cory more times than he could accept anymore. You had to call your sister, figuring she was the only one that would pick you up and give you a ride home without threatening to leave you in the parking lot in favor of beating Nolan to a pulp. 

None of that mattered though. None of it mattered when you were faced with the boy you’d fallen in love with doing the thing he cherished most. When he left the locker room with a smile brighter than any of his teammates had seen in a long time that was directed straight at you, you knew none of it mattered. 

Your feet left the ground, hanging in the air while your best friend clung to your frame tightly. He thanked you for coming, told you that he scored the goal just for you, that he scored every goal for you. You figured it was the adrenaline talking, that he was just basking in the big win against their biggest rivals. That plus the fact that Nolan could barely come to terms with the fact that you were here all for him. 

You’d been in Philly before, had visited Nolan a few times over his years with the Flyers. You’d met practically everyone there was to meet and had gotten fairly close with his closest friends by default, seeing as they were always around when you were. Everything was going well this time around, everyone was having fun and getting along and it almost seemed like nothing could fall out of place. 

You were standing in the kitchen with Nolan and Travis when Nolan’s name was called, beckoning him out into the rest of the house while you and Travis rallied drinks for the group. He tried to ignore them, tried to help you pile up on wine and beers for the rest of the group but Travis practically kicked him out of the kitchen. Travis said he could help you, that the two of you didn’t need Nolan’s help and that someone else clearly did. 

It took all of five minutes for Travis to spill red wine all over your shirt. Thankfully for him, the few glasses you’d thrown back throughout the night washed over any sense of anger or annoyance you’d usually pick up and you simply laughed it off. He felt so bad, begged you to forgive him and let you buy him a new shirt, but all you did was insist that he find you a new one for now and that you could figure out the rest of it when the two of you weren’t tipsy and surrounded by your friends. 

Travis ducked out of the kitchen for a second before turning back up and leading you into a hallway on the other end of the house. He told you that Claude never really let them wander his house without a little supervision, claiming that they break everything that they touch, but this was a special case. Claude loved you, and he wasn’t going to let you walk around with a wine stained shirt for the rest of the night, especially when it’s Travis’s fault in the first place. 

You laid back on the bed in the room you were unfamiliar with, smiling up at the ceiling and humming to yourself while Travis dug through Claude’s closet. 

“I know Ryanne has a stack of those shirts somewhere.” he spoke gently to himself, refraining from throwing clothes all over the room and instead digging for one through multiple piles. You laughed to yourself, not even sure if he knew that you could hear him. 

“Just pick one, Teeks!” he huffed and chucked one at you, laughing loudly when it landed directly on your face. 

You whined and sat up, reaching for the hem of your shirt without much thought surrounding the subject before peeling it off. All you could think about was how sticky your stomach had gotten from the red spot. 

It was the small gasp that got you, the one that brought you back down to Earth and tore you out of your wine-induced haze. It was Travis’s eyes locked in on the spot in the middle of your chest that triggered every panic siren in between your ears. 

“Is that-”

“TK you can’t tell him.” you rushed out, pushing yourself to stand up as you pressed a bright orange Flyers shirt against your chest. Your hands were shaking, and Travis’s eyes were glued to the spot of the tattoo even without being able to see it anymore. He knew what that snake was, he knew it all too well. He’d known Nolan for a long time now, and he’d seen the snake enough times to commit it to memory. 

He was sure you had Nolan’s snake in the middle of your chest, and now Travis knew you were in love with Nolan. 

“Trav, I’m serious.” he shook his head, trying to clear himself of the intrusive thoughts and nodded gently. He couldn’t tell Nolan. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to keep that from him, especially when he had been looking for your tattoo on Nolan’s skin for years now. 

Travis wasn’t dense. He saw the way that Nolan looked at you, heard the tone he used when he talked about you. He saw how excited Nolan got when he knew you were about to fly into Philly, and he saw how upset Nolan got when you left. He might not have been the brightest bulb in the box, but he knew that there was something lying under the surface of you and Nolan’s friendship. 

He tried to have this conversation before, had tried more times than he could count at this point. The only difference now was that there was hard proof, there was evidence that he was right all along. But now he couldn’t use that evidence, not when you were looking at him with wide eyes and begging him to keep it between the two of you. 

“Fine, but we’re talking about this before you go back home.” you nodded, figuring that it was good enough for you if it meant he never told Nolan about it. 

Except, there was one small problem.

The door swung open, dark and narrowed eyes landing on you and Travis, less than a foot between the two of you with you topless, a single shirt held between your hands and in front of your chest. 

“My best friend?” the disappointment in his voice tugged at your heart and punched you in the gut simultaneously. The guilt hanging in your chest was barely justified, given this was one large misunderstanding, but the look on Nolan’s face was enough to have your shoulders falling. 

“Nolan, it’s not-”

“My best fucking friend? Of all people you had to choose him?” his eyes were wide and glued to yours, anger mixing with disgust in the back of his mind. He couldn’t believe you’d do this to him. 

“Pat, you don’t understand-” 

“Fuck you.” Nolan spoke slowly and clearly, shooting Travis the sharpest glare he could produce. His voice sent a chill down your spine, unsure if you had ever heard him speak with such malice. “Both of you.” 

Nolan spun on the balls of his feet and left the room, but you didn’t let him get far before you were following him. You tugged the shirt over your head, not even bothering to turn back to Travis to apologize before you were running after Nolan, calling his name down the hallway. 

“Nolan, please-”

“I don’t want to hear it, honestly.” he threw over his shoulder, but you weren’t accepting that. You weren’t going to let him walk away right now, not when you didn’t do anything wrong. 

“Just listen to me!” you stopped walking, stopped running. You stood in the middle of a hallway that had pictures lining the walls around you. Smiling faces and cheery laughs suffocated you in a time where you stood toe to toe with your best friend, the same one who was looking down at you like he’d never known you. “You don’t get to assume things and just walk away!”

“Yeah, well you don’t get to come out here after not seeing me for six months and sleep with my best friend! You don’t get to do that to me! You don’t get to use me to sleep with professional athletes.” any words you had swimming through your mind halted at his accusation. They fizzled out, unable to produce a coherent thought after you heard your best friend accuse you of using him. 

“After all this time, you think i’m using you? You think that I came here to sleep with Travis?” 

“You want to know what I think? I think you’ve always used me. You used me to escape your awful boyfriend in high school and you used me to leave home when things got bad. You used me to get over your shitty boyfriend when he left you in the fucking dust and here you are now, using me to sleep with my best fucking friend.” you were in shock, lips parted and throat constricting as you tried to let his words sit. 

“If you wanted to whore yourself out to NHL players, you should’ve just said so, puck bunny.” The nickname weighed heavily in your chest, bringing you back to a time where Nolan went on and on about how much puck bunnies got under his skin. It brought you back to a time when Nolan would never call you that, would never even put you and the name in the same conversation.

“Patty!” Nolan’s eyes left yours, casting over your shoulder and locking with another pair that he might have been more furious at. Sure, he was angry at you. He couldn’t believe you’d do something like this, not after growing up with him just a few houses down. He couldn’t believe you’d stoop this low, but Travis? Travis knew how Nolan felt about you. Even if he didn’t admit it, even if he’d never say that was all true, Travis knew. He knew better than anyone how Nolan felt, and that made it all the more worse. 

“Don’t talk to her like that.” you bit down on your bottom lip, hard enough to sting slightly but you couldn’t look away from where your eye level left you. You couldn’t look up at Nolan, not when he was this angry at you, and you surely couldn’t look at Travis. You knew that’d only make things worse. 

“Now you get to tell me how to talk to her? Does that mean the two of you are a thing now? That’s funny, seeing as you have a girlfriend, Teeks. Didn’t know you were into home wrecking, y/n.”

“Fuck you.” you spoke softly, not even sure if he had heard you before he looked down at you with a puzzled look stretched across his face. 

“So I can pick up TK’s sloppy seconds? No thanks, angel.” you shoved him then, shoved him hard. He didn’t move much due to the way his feet dug into the ground and he had muscle on you, but you got your point across by the force delivered to his chest. 

“You’re a dick, you know that? You walk into a room and think you know everything that’s going on, but you don’t, okay? You don’t know what happens when you’re gone. You don’t know what happened in there or what happens at home when you’re here. You don’t know anything, okay?” 

“That’s bold, given that I just walked in on you topless, seconds away from kissing my best friend, y/n-”

“Is there a reason you feel the need to keep reminding me that Travis is your best friend?”

“Because I need you to know that you’re not.” 

The world titled on its axis then, the rude awakening you’d walked into becoming all too much for you to handle. With the realization that Nolan wanted nothing to do with you, you nodded once and walked around him so you could leave. It was only then that you noticed the audience you’d gathered, the better half of the Flyers roster circled around the room with a few of their significant others. You flashed everyone a pained smile and thanked Claude and Ryanne for inviting you before leaving the house. 

You weren’t even down the driveway when your lungs gave way, gasping for air while tears streamed down your cheeks. Your heart hurt and your stomach turned, and you knew it was going to be a long night. 

“You really are a dick.” Travis was going to walk past him, was going to avoid the lot of people and follow you outside. He knew you didn’t know where you were, nor did you have a way to get to or from anywhere else. You could order an uber to Nolan’s, but then what? Kevin might let you into the apartment but where would you stay? On the couch in a living room you weren’t welcome in? Not likely. 

“I’m the dick? You know how I feel about her!”

“Nothing happened!”

“Bullshit, TK! I know that look on your face and I know that she sure as hell looked embarrassed-”

“I spilt wine on her shirt, you fucking idiot! I knocked into her when we were in the kitchen and I made her entire glass of wine spill down the front of her shirt, so I went to get her another one. I didn’t want her to sit in a soaking wet, stained shirt for the rest of the night so I went to get her another.” 

“And she changed in front of you because-?”

“Because she was drunk and knew I wouldn’t make a move on her. Because she knows that I respect you and care about you far more than I care about making a move on her. I don’t look at her that way, Pat. You know I would never do that to you.” Nolan sucked on his teeth then, casting his eyes away from Travis’s and looking down at his feet. 

“Do I?” Travis scoffed then, not bothering to give Nolan a response before walking past everybody else and out to his car. 

After a few minutes of driving around, he found you at the park just down the street, leaning against the chain that supported the swing you sat on. He couldn’t see your tears from his car, but he could see the way you flinched when he shut the car door behind him. 

“You okay?” you shook your head, eyes filled to the brim with tears that blurred your vision and broke Travis’s heart. 

“I’m in love with him, Teeks. I love him more than anything in this entire world and he thinks I’m using him. He t-thinks- he thinks I-” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Travis pulled you onto your feet and into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you in order to attempt to calm you down. 

“He thinks-” your sobs rang through the air, piercing through Travis’s heart and resulting in him squeezing you tighter, letting you get all of it out while no one else was around. 

“He doesn’t think that. He knows you’re not using him, he just can’t bear to think about you with anybody other than him.” you shook your head, not allowing yourself to believe Travis, even though he knew Nolan pretty well. If there was anything to know about Nolan, you or Travis would know about it. 

“He loves you, okay? He loves you more than he knows how to handle and he can’t handle losing you before he’s even had you.” you flinched when a car backfired, jumping inches off of the ground and making Travis laugh gently from beside you when you let out a shaky breath of relief. 

Your eyes found the familiar car drive by, slowing down the slightest bit by the park only to take off towards the entrance of the neighborhood quite quickly. You knew it was Nolan, you knew that car by heart. 

You ended up on Travis’s couch the night, wrapped in a warm pair of sweatpants that Travis threw in the dryer for you before giving them to you. You tied the drawstring in a tight knot so they’d stay up and pulled on a hoodie that he offered to you shortly after. He listened to you reminisce on all of the memories you had with Nolan. He learned more about his best friend and who he was growing up, but also learned a fair amount about you as well. 

He felt for you. He couldn’t believe Nolan said all of those things to you, but he also knew that Nolan must not be doing well right now. He texted Kevin when he got back to his apartment, saying that you were safe with him, and that he’d text Nolan but didn’t for obvious reasons. Kevin assured Travis he’d let Nolan know you were safe, despite Nolan not asking about your well being. Not that he hadn’t thought about it, but he figured if he asked he’d be left with a less than likable answer. 

Nolan didn’t sleep well that night, replaying how bad he fucked up over and over again in his mind. He didn’t believe you at first, didn’t even believe Travis when he told him what truly happened. He did, however, believe his captain when he said that Travis asked him for a shirt for you just a few minutes before it all happened. Ryanne brought out your wine soaked shirt after the two of you had left, and despite Nolan coming to terms with the fact that he was wrong, he couldn’t forgive himself for the things he said to you. 

He couldn’t believe he accused you of it all before going on to accuse you of using him for your benefit. He knew it was stupid, since you’d been around far before the NHL. you were there when he got drafted, you were there when he was named captain of the Wheat Kings, and you were there when he almost quit hockey when he was younger. He remembered having you by his side through everything growing up and even now, even while living so far away from each other. If he called, you answered. If he needed help, you helped him. Hockey had nothing to do with that. 

He looked down at the butterfly on his thigh, the one that took residence right beside another one of his tattoos, one that he had to keep hidden from you for well over two years now. He traced his finger over the small image, let his mind wander over all the possibilities of where yours could be if you had a snake somewhere inked into your skin. It’s a thought he often had, wondering where you’d want it, if you’d want it. 

By the time Nolan came to his senses, it was too late. He’d already gotten through an entire practice and by the time he got back, by the time he got home, he realized you were gone. Your things that were piled into a corner of his room were gone. The jersey he’d given you for the game against the pens was folded up nicely on the pillow of his bed and a sticky note with your unmistakeable handwriting on it left a hole in his chest. 

I’m sorry I ever made you doubt me. 

He couldn’t reach for his phone fast enough, couldn’t call you enough times to break your voicemail box. He called Travis, pained to hear that you were already on a flight back to Winnipeg. He wanted to leave, wanted to drive to the airport right this second and catch a flight back home to tell you he’s incredibly sorry, but he couldn’t. He had a roadie in a few days and a game tomorrow night and he couldn’t just leave. 

He did his best to contact you, tried to call every person in your family and was disappointed every time. Even when both of his sisters sat down and called him to collectively tell him that he was the biggest idiot either of them had ever met. Nobody could believe Nolan blew you off like that, not even Nolan himself. 

He knew he fucked up, but he hadn’t realized how bad he fucked things up until one of your friends from back home posted a picture of you on social media a few months later. It had been at least four months since he’d spoken to you, since he saw you. It had been too long of him having nothing but the sliver of content he got from social media. He hated that his friends had chosen your side in the thick of it all, though he guessed it was easier to do that with him in Philadelphia and the rest of you in the same place. 

But it wasn’t until a picture of you with a wide smile and a new bathing suit popped up on his phone that he knew the true weight of the situation in front of him. There you were, in a baby blue bathing suit that showed the same shape between your breasts that he’d grown up with beside his ankle. His tattoo was committed to memory, ingrained into his brain with no room to forget about it, especially when he saw it on you, etched into your skin the same way it had been etched into his. 

He thought back to the paper airplane on your shoulder, the mark that had haunted him for years. He hated your boyfriend, hated the sight of his tattoo on your skin. He hated everything that had to do with the sheer thought of you with somebody else, even if he didn’t know how to deal with that. And now, with his thumb sitting on the butterfly on his thigh and his eyes on the snake on your sternum, he knew he had to fix this. He knew he had to fix things because these tattoos, though permanent themselves, didn’t guarantee him a life as your boyfriend, nor your husband. 

Nolan remembered a time when he thought these tattoos were stupid. He remembered when he thought it was a thing for soulmates and you told him that thought was wrong, that it just reminded you of a love you felt, even if it was eventually lost. He remembers you telling him that you were scared you’d never be loved forever, that you were scared to only be loved momentarily. 

But that wasn’t the case. Nolan would never stop loving you. He couldn’t forget about the way your laugh brightened his day without question, or the way your nose scrunched when you laughed. He couldn’t forget about the way you bugged him for ice cream on a bad day, or how good you looked with his name and number stretched across your back. 

He couldn’t remember a day he wasn’t in love with you. 

So Nolan flew to Winnipeg the second the Flyers’ season was over. He didn’t bask in getting knocked out of the playoffs like some of the other guys, didn’t dwell on the loss in the sixth game of the series because he couldn’t. He couldn’t dwell on a loss when he was so focused on trying to prevent a second one. 

He had called everybody he could think of once he got off the plane. Some didn’t answer, some didn’t know the answer to his question, and some just flat out refused to humor him. You weren’t home, he knew that much by the absence of your car in the driveway and your sister telling him that you weren’t there, and that she wouldn’t let him inside even if you were. It wasn’t until he rounded a familiar corner after a phone call he’d been thankful for. 

Jordan told him where you were, unable to lie to his childhood friend when you were hanging out with everyone. You were wearing a bathing suit again, though it didn’t matter for a while. The sun was high in the air and you weren’t the only that had shed yourself of your coverup earlier in the afternoon. You were playing basketball with Jordan, oblivious to the fact that he’d given you up just ten minutes prior to the gate door swinging open and Nolan letting himself into the backyard. 

Your eyes found him easily, as if he was a magnet you could never repel. Your shoulders fell for a moment, your instinct of wanting to comfort him seeping in before you could tell it not to. Of course you kept up with his team, watching every game you possibly could until the very last one. You knew he’d been knocked out of the playoff less than 48 hours ago, and you had no idea he was coming home. 

You hadn’t realized the weight of the situation until you noticed his eyes locked in on your chest. You folded your arms over your chest in an attempt to cover the snake, but it didn’t make Nolan look anywhere else. 

“Who told you I was here?” your voice was soft. You knew he didn’t drive around the entire town looking for your car, though you weren’t sure it was something too far out of his reach. Nolan would do just about anything to get something if he wanted it bad enough.

“Bo did.” you glared at the boy not far from you, the one that you shouldn’t have trusted with something like this in the first place. You should’ve known Jordan would do something like this. 

“Patty, what the fuck?”

“Just shut up, Bo.” Jordan rolled his eyes and tossed the basketball to Nolan who smacked it away and into the grass. 

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.” you tried to stand your ground, even with Jordan giggling to himself before walking over to your friends not too far from where you currently stood. 

“Just give me five minutes.”

Nolan’s eyes bore into yours, the same pair of bright blue eyes that you had been avoiding for months. You wanted to answer every call and every text, but how could you? How could you pick up the phone and listen to his voice through the speaker after all he’d said to you in front of his entire team. And then on top of it all, he left you stranded in Philly, in the middle of a city, country even, where you had nobody to turn to and nowhere to go. 

“I know you don’t want to talk to me-”

“Then leave, Nols.” he shook his head, taking a step towards you. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I know I hurt you-”

“You’re right! You hurt me! You hurt me so bad Nolan and I can’t go through that again so if you’re here to let history repeat itself, then can you just go?” he shook his head, firmly planting his feet into the ground and refusing to move. 

“I know you don’t want to see me or listen to me or give me the benefit of the doubt but I need you to hear me out.” you sighed, letting your arms fall to your side. You weren’t sure how he seemingly broke down all of your walls without even lifting a finger. You watched his eyes flick down to the image on your chest, you even let him raise a finger once he stood in front of you and trace the shape of the snake. “It suits you, y’know?”

“Did you really come all this way to tell me that this suits me?” there was a hint of amusement in your voice, enough of it to bring a smile to Nolan’s lips. 

“I know I fucked up-”

“Big time.” you cut him off, shooting him a gentle smile and nod that told you you’d stop interrupting him. “Sorry, continue.”

“I know I fucked up and I said a lot of shit I didn’t mean and that’s not an excuse but- look, I know i shouldn’t have said all of that shit. I should’ve believed the two of you. I should’ve believed you when you told me nothing happened and I shouldn’t have said you were using me. I know you’re not using me. There was no way you could’ve known that I was going to be in the NHL, and you wouldn’t have stuck around all this time just to be a puck bunny.” 

It wasn’t like you to forgive all that easily. You drew lines in the sand and refused to let someone fuck you over twice. You weren’t big on second chances, especially when you thought people didn’t deserve them. You were a straight shooter, no bullshit. But those walls cracked for Nolan, they fell for Nolan. None of your boundaries were drawn in place with Nolan in mind. He had broken down every wall, overstepped every boundary since the day he met you. You couldn’t block him out, couldn’t lead him out of your life. 

As much as you hated to admit it, you needed Nolan Patrick. You were in love with Nolan Patrick. 

And the little butterfly on his thigh told you that he loved you all the same. 

Your lips turned up at the sight, your eyes locked in on the place where his shorts had ridden up and the small image danced happily on his skin. 

“How long have you had that?” you pointed down at it, barely noticing the way his eyes stayed trained on you through the entirety of the situation. You were looking at his tattoo, but he was looking at you. He was always looking at you, which only made it that much more surprising that he hadn’t picked up on the snake on your chest. 

“Since before I got drafted.” he spoke softly, hitting you with a force you didn’t know existed. You were floored by the realization, somewhat thinking that he’d only had it for a small bit of time. You’d seen his thighs, seen his tattoos and you’d never seen the small butterfly etched into his skin. 

“How long have you had that?” his finger traced over the snake one more time, sending a chill down your spine that you had felt more times than you could count when you were around Nolan. It was a feeling that was never expected but always welcome. 

“Draft day.” you breathed out, feeling the weight of the world lift off of your shoulders. You were finally admitting it, finally letting the love of your life know just how long you’ve been a mess for him. Little did you know how much of a mess he was for you. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n.” 

“It’s okay.” you spoke softly, a smile gracing your lips at the realization that things were falling back into place, even after all this time of not talking to him. 

“It’s okay?” you nodded, taking another step toward him so you were chest to chest. 

“As long as you don’t fuck it up again.” he let out a small laugh, his hands finding the sides of your face just before pressing his lips to yours. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

-

italics mean it wouldn’t let me tag you!!

nolpat tag list; @extratragic​ @babytkachuks​ @teenagekook​ @stfukie​ @kiedhara​ @sadcupofcoffee​ @sidscrosbyy​ @rebel-without-care @baby-cat-nol-pat​ @creator-appreciator​ 

tagging the himbos as well; @bricksatlandyswindow​ @damndunner​ @anxietyandtacos​ @sortagaysortahigh​ @dmonchld​

[mellow-em]

Bittersweet Temptations

CHAPTER 1

[special dt @bluewingedangel <3]

Your neighbors, Nathan and Elena, have been friends with your parents for years. Whether it’d be family gatherings or vacations, they were around; they were family. But when you return home from your final years of college, what will happen when you find that it isn't just them living in the house next door anymore?

_____________________________________

The murky layers of clouds that filled the grey afternoon sky, mutated into the clear blend of colors of the evening sunset.

I rolled the windows down over an hour ago, to let in the crisp breeze of the night to keep myself awake. It really was the longest drive of my entire life. Though, even if it had been drawn out to extremes thanks to the traffic on the highways, it was relaxing nonetheless.

I spin the steering wheel slightly, finally turning into my neighborhood. I let out an exasperated yawn, feeling my whole body yearning to be in my comfy bed again. I was tremendously exhausted.

I looked around at the strips of houses lining both sides of the road; because it had been around 7pm, lights remained visible within the windows, and families were most likely eating dinner.

Our neighborhood was known for being tranquill, that is, when you first enter anyway. The farther down you drive, the more lively it gets. My parents and I happened to live right towards the end of the street, where everybody knew everyone.

From when I was little all the way into highschool, we’d have block parties, barbecues, and random get togethers every chance we could get. Those would last for hours, leading into the am sometimes. It was chaotic most of the time, but I enjoyed it.

Not even a moment later I find myself in front of my house, pulling into the driveway with one swift turn in. I couldn’t even put the car in park before I heard an uproar by the front door, causing me to stifle a laugh and shake my head.

It’s definitely gonna be a long night.

I roll all of the windows up before shutting the car off, stashing my keys away into the side pocket of my shorts. While pushing the door open with my feet, I look up to see both of my parents awaiting to engulf me into a hug.

A warm smile rises on my face as I hug them back.

“We’ve missed you honey,” my mom softly said in my ear, smoothing my hair down before kissing the top of my head.

The hug had met its demise, and I turned around to look at the mountains of boxes overflowing within the backseat and the trunk of my car.

I inaudibly sigh in my head, knowing how time consuming this is going to be.  Luckily mother could probably sense my vexation.

“Your father and I were gonna help you whether you liked it or not, so come on.”

“Thank you, I’m sorry that drive just killed me.”

She looked at me with a knowing expression on her facial features, “This is why I told you we should’ve helped you with heading home.”

I rolled my eyes, “And I insisted that I could take care of it myself,” I walked around to the other side as each of us opened the other doors to the car to start unloading my stuff.

She chuckled, dismissing me with a shake of her head. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, let's start getting this done so you can go to sleep,” she paused behind me with a box wedged in her hands, “ cause your walkin’ around looking like a damn zombie.”

I scoffed jokingly, “ Ha ha ha, very funny.”

“Get to it y/n!” she called out from inside of the house.

I rolled my eyes yet again while lifting a fairly large pack that held my toiletries, and released a frustrated huff. 

The thoughts of the future began to boil in my brain again, creating that oh so familiar, awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I knew for a fact that I couldn’t stay at my parents house for longer than a year, meaning I was going to have to figure all of my shit out within that time frame. Although it may seem like a lifetime away, the rest of my life was really on the line here.

And I couldn’t begin to admit how scared I really was.

Damn I feel like I’m being so unbelievably dramatic.

“Y/n, are you still alive over there?” The distant muffles I barely heard over me mentally walking down memory lane, became crystal clear.

My head jerked up abruptly, as I let out a small yelp, “What?”  

I notice my dad in front of me, with two containers filled with my clothes, and a small bag stacked on top of one another in his hands.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya, kiddo.”

“It's fine, I- what were you saying?”

We started to travel slowly towards the steps to the front porch, as he spoke, “I was sayin’ that we're gonna be having a small get together to celebrate you being back home tomorrow night.”

“Your small get-togethers are never just small dad, do you remember your 40th birthday? You had almost the same amount of people over as the block parties.”

He snickered, “Hey, what can I say, I’m just a popular guy,” the both of us enter the house as he turns to me again, “But I will say, it will more than likely be small. You’re just gonna see a few new faces in the mix.”

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, “Wait what? Do we have new neighbors or something?”

The both of us walk up the stairs to my room, and place the boxes alongside the wall opposite of my bed.

“Something like that,” he pats my shoulder and hurries out the door to the hallway, leaving me even more confused, “Why do you insist on being so cryptic all the time?”

“I’m gonna get the rest of your stuff!”

I groaned, crashing into the plush comforter that was laying neatly on the bed beneath me. With no delay, my eyelids leisurely closed, and I eventually doze off.

______________________

Heat radiated from my body as I woke from a peaceful sleep. I shifted uncomfortably a few times, feeling the sweat sticking to my body.

No matter how hard I try, sleeping in the heat of this room is going to be like trying to sleep in a damn sauna. Useless.

I rolled over, with the pitch black atmosphere through the windows, and around me, taking up most of my vision.

It’s probably in the middle of the damn night.

I lifted my arm slightly to let my hand feel around the bed, in search of my phone to check the time.

Just my luck, my fucking phone is missing.

I look over to the other side of the room, where the unpacked boxes and containers remained stacked by the wall. The slight glare of the moon's reflection was hitting something on top of the windowsill.

“There you are,” the words fumbled out of my mouth sleepily, while I slowly rose from what felt like my puddles of sweat on the sheets. Stumbling in the process, I made my way over to what was thankfully my phone laying down in the moonlight.

The illumination of the screen screamed at my eyes, causing me to look away for a second, “shit that was bright.”

I adjust my eyes to the light to see the clock on the top of the screen:

3:28am

“Great. Well at least I got some sleep.” I toss my phone across the room, hearing it thump onto the side of my bed.

A wave of heat ran across my arms and legs, reminding me of why I woke up in the first place, “I’m not gonna take the chance of melting any more tonight.”

I reach over to unhinge the latch on top of the window next to me, and open it halfway. A gust of polar air simmered around me almost immediately, swiftly cooling me off to satisfaction.

I close my eyes, letting the nightly winds blow over me, with a relaxed smile forming on my face.

My small moment of tranquility was rudely interrupted by a splash from outside.

My eyes jolted open, and I instantly lurch my head up to look in that direction. To my surprise, the lights were on over Nate and Elena’s; the pool lights.

“Why would-?”

I knew for a fact that it wasn’t Nathan or Elena, knowing that they have a child on the way. Both of them were guaranteed to be asleep.

So who the hell is using their pool at 3 in the damn morning? That question replayed in my head as I stared out towards the pool, waiting to see the whoever it could possibly be.

As if on cue, I watched as the figure emerged from the pool, and a man slowly stepped out while using the ladder at the edge.  

Just like that, it felt that I didn't have control anymore. My curious eyes wandered; lingering all over him.

He wore black swim trunks that were snug on his thighs in all the right places. They sunk down to the lower half of his hips, exposing his very visible trail of hair on the lower half of his abdomen.

The more I drank of him, the more it affected me.

His chest hair glistened from the pool water that began streaming down his abs. My eyes found themselves trickling over his toned biceps, and his scattered variety of tattoos that took up only a few spots on his body.

I knew I had to look away, but I couldn’t.

I finally looked up at his face.

Holy fuck.

The lower half of his face was lined perfectly with stubble, with his seemingly soft lips as the centerpiece. I traveled up his face, noticing the wrinkles that were sketched sparingly across his features.

He ran his hand through his soaked locks of hair that partially hung in front of his face, with his muscles flexed to an extreme. He wandered over to the table and chairs that were by the edge of the pool area; that was much closer to my window.

After reaching for the towel, he rubbed it through his hair, and started drying the rest of his body with it. Him doing so caused me to look him up and down once again. I looked down to his feet, and up to his head. 

Only this time around, I was met with his eyes.

I felt an overwhelming surge of panic, but I was stuck in place. I felt trapped, with no escape from this whatsoever.

I’m such an idiot. I mentally scolded myself for letting my lustful curiosity get the best of me.

The reprimands within my mind were sliced in half, as a sly smirk traced over his lips, creating a few more layers of wrinkles upon his cheeks.

This could be chalked up to be the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever experienced.

I couldn’t decide on whether to focus on his lips or his eyes; it was becoming way too much to handle. I did a frantic dance between the two.

Coincidentally, as soon as our eyes met a final time, one of his eyelids opened and closed in one smooth motion, all while his stare remained fixated on me.

Did he really just do that? Did he just fucking wink at me?

I finally got the stamina to duck away from the window and onto the floor, with my back pressed against my former dorm room cases, and my breathing becoming more irregular by the second

What the fuck just happened?

[writtenonreceipts]

If you're taking prompts, maybe for feysand - Person A catches a bus home everyday, but today, they're so exhausted that they fall asleep, suddely they feel a light tap on their shoulder and open their eyes to see person B smiling at them. "Sorry to wake you, but this is your stop, i hope you slept well"

<33

Oh my darling anon, I am always eager for prompts! Thank-you for sending this in! I altered just a few minor things, ie trains and not not busses and the diologue is just worded diff... and then over indulged in my own whims and fancies, just a touch.

2.7K words of fluff and awkwardness...all i know is awkwardness so ya know...

 #

Strangers and Favors

Exhausted.  Tired.  Sleepy.  There were far too many ways to describe what Feyre was feeling.  Not even the coffee in her hands was doing anything to give her the boost she needed.  

Amid the chill of morning and the slowly growing light of dawn, Feyre found herself hurrying from her car in the park-and-ride lot.  She practically flung herself up the small steps that led to the train platform and into the first train car she was near. 

She’d been running late that morning and nearly missed her alarm.  Alis had been a dear and poured her coffee in a thermos, but Feyre hated the feeling of being rushed.  Especially after a poor night's sleep.  And when it was five thirty in the morning.

Feyre slipped into a seat before she could finally tell herself to breathe.  She’d made it onto her train with only a few minutes to spare.  Thankfully there were other straggling passengers filtered into the train car and made their way to their various seats.

Feyre took a long sip of her coffee and tried to convince herself that she wasn’t really tired.  Even though it was far too early to be awake and she had an hour and a half train ride to sit through.  

Dawn had barely begun to rise over the horizon with not even the promise of pink and blue streaks through the sky.  She sighed and drew out her sketch pad.  

She was barely into starting the picture--of what she had no idea--when the train started moving and a form fell into the seat across from her.

Feyre blinked and glanced up.

There were plenty of other open seats lining the train.  Granted the place she’d found herself was the only one with a small table set up, but still.  

Sitting across from her was a man far too attractive for his own good.  He wore a black suit with a deep navy-blue button up beneath.  No tie, only the top few buttons of his shirt undone giving a peak at a series of tattoos on his chest.  His black hair was styled in a neat wave revealing a chiseled jaw and glorious eyes.

Feyre tore her gaze away before she could be accused of staring.  But honestly, who could blame her?

Over the course of the train ride, Feyre finished her coffee and scribbled out at least four pages worth of drawings.  Unfortunately, inspiration didn’t strike.  Not that it was surprising.  She’d not drawn anything new in months.  Oh, she’d tried.  She could sit for hours on this train, on her balcony, or out in the middle of the forest with a pencil in one hand and paper in the other--and nothing.  Nothing would come.

Alis always told her that she couldn’t force herself to draw.  She couldn’t force herself to be inspired if she didn’t make the conscious choice.  But Alis didn’t understand that sometimes, it was too damned hard.

The train ride passed without excitement.  Not even the man across from her did anything interesting.  Figured.  He was so attractive his life had to be mundane.  At least, that was what Feyre told herself while she was not covertly looking at him

She was glad to get off the train when it reached the city.  After making sure she had her things, she slipped out and onto the platform without trouble.

#

Chaos was not something she enjoyed.  

Especially not lately.  As long as everything was in its place of simplicity, life could continue on as normal.

Honestly, if Feyre could have chosen a simple life involving nothing more than eating donuts she would have chosen it.  Because living in a state of missed calls and impatient clients and looming deadlines was far from her state of happiness.

With a bag of donuts from Rita’s bakery in one hand, Feyre collapsed in her seat at the end of the day.  She’d managed to leave work five minutes early giving her enough time to swing into Rita’s and grab a few treats.  And she would not apologize for it.

“Long day?” 

Feyre glanced up to see the man from that morning taking a seat across from her.  He had an amused sort of expression on his face which made it even harder to look away.  Feyre snatched a frosted chocolate donut from her bag and glared at him.

“No.” She took a giant bite leaving sugar to lace around her mouth and narrowed her eyes at him.

He grinned and shook his head.

Feyre was able to finish her donut in peace and managed not to stare at the man the rest of the train ride home.

#

Life continued.  And much to Feyre’s dismay, nothing changed.

Her sketch book remained empty.  Her coffee remained dull.  Work did not improve.

Something needed to change.  But honestly, she couldn’t figure out what it was.  She’d left her ex months ago.  She’d gotten a new wardrobe, a new phone, moved in with her friend.  She’d started getting out more too.  Somewhat.  When Nesta called, which wasn’t often but at least her sister was trying.

It was five-thirty in the morning and she was seated on the train, again.  And the man who seemed to only own clothing that was black was seated across from her, again.  Since that first day of seeing him, he hadn’t tried talking to her again, which Feyre was semi grateful for.  She was certain she would just make herself look like a bigger idiot than before.

Had she really stuffed her face with that giant donut?

Not that she cared.  She could do whatever she wanted.

Except draw.

Feyre stared out the window of the train.  It was slowly starting to get lighter sooner and Feyre now had more scenery to watch instead of the reality of the empty sketchpad.

Inevitably, however, Feyre found her attention drawn to the man across from her.

There was something about him.  Feyre couldn’t place it, exactly, perhaps an energy of some kind.  Or it was his confidence.  Arrogance.  Something.  She found him mesmerizing.  How stupid was that?  A man she had said one word to and ignored for an entire month and she could help but watch him.

He did a cross word every morning.  Texting someone throughout--or else cheating and looking up the answers.  Other times she caught him reading a book about astrology or NASA’s recent magazine release.  She wanted to ask him about the astrology, it was such a fascinating topic, one that she liked learning about.  But she never knew how to strike up a conversation, so she remained silent.

She’d always been good at staying silent.  At least that was what she’d been told.

The thought came so suddenly that Feyre had to physically shake herself to make it disappear.  She sat up in her seat, hands clenching in her lap.

She snapped her attention away from the train window and forcibly removed her sketchpad from her bag.  In a fury, Feyre moved her pencil across the page.  It wasn’t the bed utensil to use, but it was better than bringing her entire art supply on the commute to work.  The pencil would suffice.

It wasn’t as though she liked being quiet.  It wasn’t as though she didn’t have anything to say.  Sometimes it was just easier.  Sometimes it was just better.  Sometimes the silence was how she communicated.  Sometimes people just didn’t understand that.

The scene came alive beneath her fingers.

Mountains and stars.  Storms and shadows.  All convalescing on a shape.  A person.  A…

Feyre frowned at the scene.  Someone was kneeling on a throne of night and she couldn’t see their face.

“Do you always glare at your art like that?”  The midnight voice broke Feyre out of her revere.  

Glance up, Feyre locked gazes with the violet eyes of the man across from her.  The crossword in his lap was complete.  Feyre realized for the first time that he was younger than she’d originally thought.  Maybe about five years older than she was.  And even though he oozed arrogance, there was almost a genuine sort of smile dancing across his lips.

“Only when it’s being difficult,” Feyre answered.  She offered a brief shrug and gestured to the crossword on his lap. “Do you always cheat at the crossword?”

He made an affronted sort of gasp. “I don’t cheat.”

“You’re always on your phone when you scribble answers in,” Feyre pointed out.  She smirked, unable to help it.

“I’m texting with a friend,” he said, “she’s always trying to finish the damned thing before me in the mornings.  All I do is offer a bit of...encouragement.”

“Right,” Feyre said doubtfully.  She shook her head, still smiling.

The man watched her, almost confused, before he leaned forward.  “And the art?  It’s the first time in over a month I’ve seen you actually draw something.”

“I was searching for the right inspiration,” she said.  And then as she found herself nearly drowning in the heat of his gaze--Feyre had what she’d been hunting for. “Sometimes it just takes a while to find.”

The train pulled to a stop where they usually got off.  Feyre collected her things and half expected the man to be right at her side when his phone went off.

He muttered something under his breath before answering it.

Feyre almost had half a mind to wait for him.  To linger on the platform and dredge up some excuse so that she could talk to him.  If only for a moment longer.  She still hadn’t asked him about the astrology book.

Instead she was swept up in the crowd of commuters.

#

For the next two weeks, Feyre was out of her mind with anxiety.

There really was no other way to describe it.  Because every morning and every evening when she would board the train there would be no sign of her mysterious companion.  Not even the sight of him running to try and catch a ride before the train completely left the station.  Not even a hint of him getting on a different compartment one day by accident.  Nothing.

So, naturally, her mind told her that it had something she’d done.  Something she’d said.  Hell.  She hadn’t even done anything that stupid.  Aside from stuffing a whole ass donut in her mouth.

She was an idiot.

Eventually she was able to push thoughts of her mysterious companion aside.  Not only was she drawing again, but her workload had increased.  And now she was getting up earlier and staying later and her schedule was entirely too chaotic.  

She really missed the simpler days of dashing into Rita’s or relaxing on the train bench not staring at the man across from her.

After two weeks of commuting alone and another two weeks of being run ragged at work, Feyre finally found herself being able to return to a normal timeline.  Somewhat.  At least she was going to be able catch her usual train home and get home before ten o’clock.

Feyre fell into her seat and leaned up against the window of the train.  She didn’t mean to fall asleep.  Not really.  But as soon as she was seated and relaxed her eyes drifted shut and she was gone.

The next thing Feyre knew there was a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry to wake you, but this is your stop,” said an all too familiar voice.

Feyre’s eyes snapped open and she nearly flung out a fist to the shape in front of her.

“I take it you slept well?” Her mysterious companion snatched out a hand and caught hers before it made contact.  He gave her a cheeky grin. “You didn’t even twitch between all the other stops.”

Feyre blinked up at him.  Sleep still addled her brain and he was making no sense whatsoever.

“What?” she finally managed to spit out.

“Your stop?” he said, jutting a thumb to the train doors. 

Feyre cursed, loudly, and jumped up. “I barely even closed my eyes,” she grumbled.

“Here, let me,” her companion grabbed her bag for her and helped her off the train before it took them all the way south to Hybern.

“Thanks,” Feyre said as they stepped out onto the platform.  She accepted her bag from him and gave him a smile. “It’s been a long couple of weeks I guess.”

In the still fading evening light, Feyre was able to see his easy smile and the way his eyes crinkled softly.  His black hair was tousled easily as if he’d been running his hands through it recently.

“It’s not a problem,” he said, “in fact I was surprised to even see you.  It’d been a few weeks.”

Feyre blinked.  He’d noticed she wasn’t on at her usual time?

“You were gone for a while too,” she said without thinking.  You idiot.

Her words seemed to catch him by surprise, but not for long.  A gleam flashed in his eyes.

“You noticed, did you?”

“You noticed me,” she shot back quickly.

They stood in silence as the train moved on with a loud whistle and the last few men and women passed them by hurrying to catch their connecting busses or get to their cars.

His smile stretched into a full grin. “I’m Rhysand.”

“Feyre,” she said, returning the smile.   She then noticed the small paper bag he held in one hand.  Immediately, Feyre recognized the logo on the outside.  “Rita’s?  That’s my favorite place to stop at after work.”

“Yeah, uh,” Rhysand said as he ran a hand through his hair, “I noticed and decided to give it a try.”

“And?” Feyre pressed.

“I have you to blame for my new addiction,” he said.

Feyre laughed, shaking her head.  “I take full responsibility, though I will not apologize.”

Rhysand paused only for a moment before he glanced at her and an almost sheepish smile crossed his features. “Have you been to Dreamer’s? It’s a late-night coffee shop on Main.”

“I haven’t, but I’ve been meaning to,” Feyre admitted.

“My treat,” he said almost immediately.  “I mean, if you want.  You can tell me about what helped you find the inspiration to start drawing again.”

Feyre blinked at him remembering that train ride over a month ago now where she’d finally been able to draw more than a few measly lines.  And she realized now as she watched a halo of light glimmer from the setting sun around his head that all this time she’d been trying to draw him in the outline of mountains and stars.

“Deal,” Feyre said. “But you should know, I don’t give up my secrets lightly.”

Rhysand quirked a brow. “Noted.”

They spent hours sharing secrets.  The small kinds, the simple kinds.

Feyre learned that Rhysand’s brother had broken his leg playing football and needed surgery which was why he’d disappeared for a few weeks.  She learned that it was his mother who taught him about astrology before she died not that long ago.  And now he spent most of his time trying to avoid his father.  

She’d told him about her love of painting, of art, of creating.  Anything that made her feel alive.  She’d told him about walking out on her old life and how here she was six months later and still desperate for change.

They were both trying, it turned out, to become something different.

It wouldn’t be until later that night--after sunset when the inky black sky gave way to the millions of stars overhead--that Feyre found herself home.  Rhysand, of course, made sure she’d arrived safe and she’d rewarded him with a brush of her lips to his cheek and a small smile over her shoulder.

It wouldn’t be until later that night--amid the cool mid-spring air that promised a new dawn--that Feyre would pull out her sketch pad.  She would draw sharp lines and angular features and a man kneeling amid the night.  She would draw power and beauty in something, someone, she didn’t know perfectly.  But one day.  One day, maybe she would.

#

thanks for reading my dears!  i am always eager and open from prompts so thanks for sendin gthem!  I really do enjoy them!

tags:

let me know if I put you on the wrong tag list/want to be removed.  it’s generally going to be easier for me to just have basic acotar/tog lists and not go into too much worry about that, so just and fyi...anywho

tottenhamboys20  @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx  @bamchickawowow @ladywitchling @ireallyshouldsleeprn @courtofjurdan @sassys-world @sleeping-and-books @superspiritfestival @chieflemming @julemmaes @lysandra-ghost-leopard @harrymoncheri @firestarsandseneschals @rapunzel1523 @emikadreams

[sgtbradfords]

Sorry your getting a ton of prompts off of me 🙈

Can you write a version of SE2E11

But slightly different

Caleb is a tech wiz and hacks the police computers

They think Lucy is just running late, they’re in roll call and the screen flickers on and it’s a live video of and unconscious Lucy strapped to a table getting her Day of Death tattoo

And basically it’s plays out similar, but they see her nearly escape they see her being forced into the barrel, and they have the live feed of her inside the barrel

Alright anon, first off thank your for your patience the past couple of weeks. I hope this does your request justice. Enjoy! :)

The only thing that Lucy Chen wanted to do was go home, unwind and crawl into bed. But according to her training officer she needed to go out, blow off some steam, in order to forget about the long and restless day they had endured. She thought over his words as she changed, reluctantly deciding he was right as she fished her phone out of the front pocket of her jeans, pulling up her social media messaging app, scrolling through before finding who she wanted, pressing his contact.

“Hey.” She said into her phone. “I know it’s late, but do you want to go get a drink?”

“I’d love to.” He said with a smile in his voice. “Want to meet back at Las Torres?”

“See you in twenty.” She told him, hanging up.

Caleb Wright was someone that Lucy never expected to stumble upon, let alone a person who found her somewhat worthy of being flirted with. It started when she met him while waiting at the counter of the bar, words and flirtation coming easily. Though she was not very forthcoming until the last minute about her occupation, she found him to be intriguing, and was surprised when he showed up at the station just to give her his number. She spent days playing the should she, shouldn’t she game which resulted in Lucy cyberstalking him on his social media pages.

Tim scolded her for not being on task as she sat next to him in the shop, scrolling through his Instagram and scoffed when he caught her later in the day watching a video of him playing with his dog, making sure to tell her that it probably wasn’t even his dog as she rolled her eyes at him. But, her training officer was also the first person to officially meet him, Tim going as far as to intimidate and question Caleb when the man visited the precinct, before he reluctantly handed over the number he had taken out of Lucy’s hands.

---

“Hey, have you seen Lucy?” Jackson West asked John Nolan as he walked out of the locker room. “She didn’t come home last night.”

“She’s a grown woman. Why, you worried?”

“No. Yes. A little?  It’s just- she didn’t come home last night.”

Thinking that their friend may just be running late, the two rookie officers headed to roll call, taking their seats at the front.

“Where’s Chen?” Tim asked as he walked into the room, noticing his missing boot.

“We don’t know, she had a date last night and never came home.”

Alarm bells began ringing in Tim’s head as John turned around in his chair, asking his training officer, Nyla Harper if Lucy was in the locker room. The detective’s response sent chills up Tim’s spine. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts to find hers. The phone ringing continuously before going to voicemail.

“Something’s not right.” Tim said, hanging up before quickly walking back out of the room and into the bullpen. “Sergeant.” He said as he approached their superior. “Chen’s missing.”

“What do you mean Officer Bradford?”

“My boot is missing sir. Nolan and West have not been able to reach her, and I just tried her cell myself.”

Nolan spoke first. “She had a date last night.”

“And she never came home.” Inputted Jackson.

“A date? Did she go out with that guy, the one she met at the bar?” asked Tim. “Caleb… Wright, with a W.”

Jackson recalled her plans. “Yeah, she was headed to meet up with him when we walked out together last night, about 8:30? We haven’t heard from her since.”

“If she comes in late and we sound the alarm, she’ll be in more trouble than what it’s worth.” John pointed out.

“Her phone could be dead.” Mentioned the Sergeant.

“No.” spoke Tim, shooting the suggestion down. “I just called it and it rang before going to voicemail. She also keeps it fully charged with a charger in her bag.”

“She could be stuck in traffic or maybe she’s overslept and is still at his place.”

John and Jackson spoke together. “No, Lucy doesn’t do one-night stands.”

“This guy, Caleb Wright, he came by the station yesterday, gave her his number.” Tim told the other officers.

“What else do we know about him?”

“Nothing.” Said Jackson.

“I met him yesterday, he told me he works for a medical supply company. She watched a video of him playing with a puppy.” Tim told them as they gave him an incredulous look. “Chen was checking out his social media page.”

Grey shifted on his feet. “Bradford, take West and go run this guy’s name through NCIC and LAPD’s database, see what you can find, warrants, tickets, previous charges, anything before we go knocking on his door.”

“I can run a trace on Lucy’s phone, get her into MUPS and NaMus systems.” Nyla told her commanding officer before walking away.

Tim moved quickly, beckoning Jackson to follow as he approached an available computer terminal, sitting down behind the desktop as he began his search.

“What do you think?” Jackson asked as he pulled up a chair to the terminal.

Tim worked on punching in what he knew about Caleb. “I think that we’re working a serial killer’s case and that given the circumstances, it’s not looking good.”

“She’s going to be ok, right?”

Tim continuously glanced at the clock in the corner of the computer screen, watching as the numbers for the minutes went up.

“Officer Bradford. Officer Nolan said you were looking for me?” Detective Nick Armstrong asked as he stepped into the room.

“Lucy Chen is missing. No one’s had contact with her in close to thirteen hours and Harper just sent me a text that her phone is turned off and that the GPS has been disabled.”

“And you think it’s connected to Rosalind.”

“I think that there’s no such thing as coincidences.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Yes, Caleb Wright.” Said Jackson. “But we’ve gotten no hits on any database.”

“Any social pages?”

“He has something, but we haven’t started a search.”

“May I?” he asked gesturing to the chair. Tim stood, moving out of the way as Nick sat down. “Name?”

“Caleb. Wright, with a W.”

Nick began punching the information that was given to him.

“Huh. And you’re sure that he’s on the internet?”

“Yes.” Tim told him, pacing.

“That’s weird because Caleb Wright doesn’t seem to exist.”

“What?” he said as he rushed over. “That’s impossible I seen him playing with- with a puppy on it yesterday!”

“Well, whatever it was on, it’s gone now. He must have deactivated it.”

“Even if he deactivated it, we can contact the company and-“

“On what grounds? We have nothing to back up what is being implied Officer Bradford. If he is our guy, he’s already faked one identity.”

“Bryan Coleman.”

“Exactly. This guy stole Coleman’s life to gain access to the old zoo, where he used the isolation to kill his victims.”

“He’s already got fresh blood, now he’s going to need new killing ground.”

“He already has it. If we can find the land, that’s where we will find Officer Chen.”

“We don’t have a picture of the guy, how are we supposed to find him?” asked Jackson.

“West, you work on pulling the security cameras from the front desk and the back hall. I am going to go sit with Isaac downstairs and see if he can compile a sketch from what I remember, it will be better than nothing.” Tim instructed as he quickly made his way downstairs.

Thirty minutes later, Tim was taping up the sketch of Caleb onto the whiteboard at the front of the room as Nyla worked on putting up the necessary information.

“Officer Bradford.” Jackson said walking into the room, lingering by the door. “A word.”

Tim walked over, crossing his arms as he stood in front of the rookie.

“We have a problem. There’s no footage.”

Tim looked at him in disbelief. “What do you mean there’s no footage?”

“The footage from yesterday has been wiped.”

Tim shifted on his feet. “Wiped.”

“Yes sir, I checked the timeframe that you told me he was here and all the footage, an entire hour is nothing but static.”

“Son of a bitch! How did he- when did he-“

“What do we know?” Sergeant Grey asked, walking into the room, Detective Armstrong trailing close behind.

“Any footage of Caleb inside the department yesterday has been wiped.”

“He hacked our servers so we can assume he’s very good with technology which is why we were unable to find any social media pages.”

Nolan spoke up, raising a hand. “If that’s true then he has access to anything we have on Rosalind.”

“Not everything.” Pointed out Armstrong. “Almost all of our findings from her earlier kills have never been scanned into the system, those reports are all still on paper.”

“Who has those?”

“They are locked up in storage in the basement which you have to sign out but you’re in luck, I’m old school. I happen to keep a paper copy of all my cases, for if and when technology fails us, and those copies? Are in my office.”

“Get them.” Ordered Grey. “In the meantime, we do have an update.”

“The bartender at Las Torres recognized Lucy and Caleb.” Detective Armstrong stated, pulling up the security feed onto the smart TV. “The good news, there’s a security camera in the parking lot so we know that they left at 9:05. The bad news is that the angles on the camera are shit which means we are unable to confirm faces.”

“He knew where the cameras were.” Stated Nolan from a table in the middle of the room.

“Correct Officer Nolan. Now, we were able to obtain footage from a neighboring business and have footage of this car driving by four minutes later,” Armstrong told them as he played the footage on a loop. “the plates are missing but it matches the description of a car that was reported stolen yesterday morning.”

“Now, Officer Chen’s car was found in the alleyway where she left it last night. Unfortunately, the amount of evidence that we have discovered gives us every inclination that Caleb is Rosalind’s protégée.”

The sounds of the room came to a halt as the words sunk in. They had all thought it, but no one had uttered the suspicion.

“Officer Chen is one of our own, and I know how upsetting this revelation is, but we have to remain focused. We owe her that.”

Tim closed his eyes, clenching his fist as he fought the wave of nausea that sat in the pit of his stomach.

“Nora was abducted two nights ago and we found her eighteen hours later, already tattooed and about to be put into a barrel to be suffocated. We believe that Caleb’s timeline from abduction to death to be twenty-four hours.” Nolan told them as he took over.

“Officer Chen has been missing for almost fifteen hours now, giving us approximately seven hours to find her.”

“Unless the timeline is wrong and she’s dead already.”

Tim stood from where he was leaning on the table. “You’re wrong. Chen, she’s not like the rest of the victims, she’s a fighter.”

“I haven’t known Lucy as long as the rest of you, but Bradford is right. She’s going to do everything that she can to stay alive until we save her.” Spoke Nyla, gaining a nod of appreciation from Tim.

“I’ve issued a BOLO to be broadcast for Caleb Wright and Officer Chen all over LA and surrounding counties, so I will need more officers answering the tip line as the phone calls come in.” said Grey addressing the group of officers before he began to call them out by name, giving them their tasks, leaving the close knit group of officers in the room.

“Detective Armstrong?” the officer from the front desk asked, knocking on the glass door as she stepped into the room. “Someone dropped this off at the front desk for you.” She told the group, extending the hand holding a manilla envelope.

Nick reached out, grabbing the envelope, observing the information on the outside, finding his name printed on the paper. “No return address.” He stated, looking up at the officers around him.

Tim reached into the pants pocket of his uniform, pulling out a black pair of gloves, slipping them on before he reached out a hand to take the possible evidence. He carefully undone the metal clasp, using the flashlight from his duty belt to peek into the open package. Tim looked around at the faces of the other officers that had gathered around, carefully shaking out the contents, a lone USB drive falling out.

“What the fuck?” he mumbled under his breath.

“He’s playing with us, just like Rosalind.” Armstrong said as he ran a hand over his head. “We need to plug it in, see what’s on it.”

Tim picked up the stick, palming the drive in his gloved hand. “And what if it’s just another game?”

“And what if it’s not.”

“I’m not going to let my boot become another one of their casualties!” Tim told Armstrong, his voice raising with every word.

Sergeant Grey sighed. “We need to find an unsecured computer, one that is not attached to our servers.”

“I can help with that. I’ve got my laptop in the truck, Lucy made flashcards for us to study on the internet, and we were planning on studying after shift.” Offered Nolan.

“Get it.” Grey instructed as he pulled out his phone.

Nolan walked away quickly, returning just as fast with a bag in hand. He pulled the device from the bag, powering it on as Tim connected the USB drive, a lone URL link popping up on the screen as they crowded around.

“Click it.” The sergeant ordered as words began scrolling across the screen.

‘Detective Nick Armstrong. Let it be known, this one’s for you.’

The room was silent as they read the scrolling words on the screen before they disappeared, a video popping up in its place.

“Oh my god.” John said in shock at the video before them.

“Is it live?” asked Tim, his voice cracking with emotion.

“I don’t- it doesn’t-“ Spoke the rookie, stumbling over his words.

“Is there audio?” Tim demanded, his voice raising.

Sergeant Grey placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder, grounding him. “We have to assume it is. She’s not in the barrel yet so she has to still be alive. Officer West, assist Detective Armstrong in going over the files he has. I want you to check out every file that has Rosalind’s name on it, in it, attached to it. I want history, financials, background, anything that may help us get a location. Find me something Nick. In the meantime, let’s get someone from IT up here to find us a location. Officer Nolan, you stay on the computer and if she wakes, Wright shows up or anything on that screen changes, you let me know immediately.  Harper, contact her parents, don’t,” he said hesitantly. “don’t give them the full rundown of what’s going on but make them aware and that the LAPD is doing their best to find their daughter.”

Each officer went out the door, heading their separate ways as they went about the task they were assigned.

“Sir.” Tim said moving to the door, towards where his superior was walking out. “And me?”

Wade glanced over Tim’s shoulder at Nolan who was intently watching the monitor.

“She’s your boot Bradford, you know her better than anyone. Stay with Nolan and watch the feed.”

“But sir-“

“Watch the feed Bradford.” Sergeant Grey commanded as he left the room.

Tim sighed, running a hand over his face. He pulled out his phone, dialing the one person he knew he could rely on. “Hey, Lucy’s been taken. I need you.” Was all he said, hanging up the phone, clenching the metal device in his hand before stepping back into the room.

“Get Grey back in here, she’s waking up.”

“Hey Sarge!” He yelled out the door, running over to Nolan and the computer.

-----

Lucy Chen came to in a daze, her head throbbing, her mouth dry and her left side was burning. She knew what had happened as she glanced around the bare room, the realization that she had become one of them hitting her full force.

Instinct told her to pull at the restraints, the tape around her wrists not budging, making her realize that she wasn’t going anywhere, at least not until her numb body became more aware. She took in her surroundings, noticing the blinds we’re drawn, the sun filtering through, the wooden entertainment center and desk to her right, both covered in dust.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty.” He spoke from behind her, his footsteps heavy as he walked into the room she was being held in. “I’d offer you some, but it’s better if your stomach is empty, for you know, later. All the screaming and lack of air tends to make you-“ he said before pretending to gag.

She glanced around the room, looking for anything that could potentially give her a clue as to where she was being held, spying the bottle of water on the wooden table.

“Can- can I at least have some water?” She asked, remembering that water is more sustainable, no matter the circumstance.

“Oh, of course.” He said as he moved over to the table, reaching for the bottle. “I’m not a monster.”

Caleb sat his plate down as Lucy took the time with his back to her to further observe her surroundings for the split second she had, before he turned back around, twisting the cap off as he walked over towards her. She opened her mouth, taking any water she could get. “Ah, don’t get greedy.” He chastised as she swallowed the sip he had allowed her.

“Is this why you hit on me in that bar? Why you asked me out? So you could make me a victim?”

“No! Not at all!” he told her as he took a bite of the apple from his plate. “Though, I see the confusion. You weren’t the target Lucy, you were just an opportunity. I was there scoping out Armstrong. Honestly, I don’t know what Rosalind sees in the guy. But who am I to judge, we all have our fetishes.”

Lucy swallowed harshly, “Are you gonna bury me in Rosalind’s third unmarked grave?”

“You know, that was the plan. I was gonna put Nora in there, but then your friend screwed that up.”

“Why are you doing this?” She asked, her voice raising.

Caleb smirked, “You know, that’s more of a second date question. And we’re just not gonna get there. I’m sorry.” Lucy could feel her heart stop as his words confirmed her fears. “Now, I’ve got a lot to do before I put you inside-“

Lucy panicked as he began to walk away, she needed to know, she deserved to know “Wait!” she yelled, causing the retreating man’s steps to faulter. “Why- why the tattoo? Is it… some display of ownership? Knowing that you have the ultimate control over a person, deciding when they die?”

“No.” he huffed a laugh. “It’s not for me, silly. It’s for you, to force you to face the truth of your death. It is the gift of something we rarely get in life, clarity.”

“Did Rosalind teach you that?”

“No.” he said, his voice raising as his tone became irritated. “That’s mine.”

“Rosalind is your mentor, is she not? So that would-“

“No!” he interrupted. “No, It’s not like that. We are equals.”

“Does she know that?”

Caleb laughed. “You’re good Officer Chen. But I would think carefully of how you want to proceed, because this, I’m going to enjoy this.”

________________________

The room was quiet as they watched Caleb’s retreating back, the conversation they just witnessed settling in. “The window to the left of the screen is obscured, so there’s no way to find out where she is. Dammit.”

“How long till IT gets here?” Nolan asked grimly.

“Soon. Officer Nolan, I want you and Harper to assist West and Armstrong, the more eyes we have filing through the paperwork, the better chances of finding where this house is.”

Nolan stood, walking out in search of his training officer.

“Officer Bradford, I need you to stay here and monitor the feed, she may not know of the camera but look for any identifying characteristics in that living room that could point us in the right direction. If he comes back, notify me immediately.” The Sergeant instructed before walking away.

Tim sighed sitting down into the seat that Nolan had vacated, watching as his boot took in the details of the room, her fingers twitching against the wooden arm rest. “We’re going to find you boot.”

Twenty minutes later, the sound of two pairs of footsteps walked into the room, dragging Tim’s focus away from what the IT analyst, Marcus, was working on on a second computer. “Hey. Thanks for coming in.” He said standing as Angela and Wesley walked in.

“Of course. What are you working on?”

Tim clenched his jaw, extending a hand to show what was on the screen.

“He’s recording her?” Wesley asked in disbelief.

Tim nodded his head, “We think the camera is hidden so she’s not aware that she’s being watched. Day off?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Wesley said as shared a glanced with Angela. “Can I help?”

“What’s your tolerance level for cranks and asshats wasting your time?”

Wesley couldn’t help the smirk on his face. “I’m a public defender.”

Tim rolled his eyes as they walked out of the room. “There’s an empty spot next to West so help yourself to a notepad and a phone. Besides, nothing says we’ve got squat like listening to the public.”

Wesley sat down as Tim began walking back to the room, Angela walking beside him as he took large steps.  “This is useless. We should be out on the streets, kicking down doors.”

Angela placed a hand onto Tim’s arm stopping them in the middle of the pen. “Whose doors Tim? They wouldn’t be able to tell us where he is keeping her.”

“I don’t know.” He said shaking his head. “I-I can’t just sit here Ang.”

“I get that, but you’ve got to get your head in the game.” She told him as she pulled him to the side.

“I don’t need a pep talk Lopez.”

Angela searched his face. “Then why’d you call me? Because clearly, you need to get something off your chest.”

Tim looked away, glancing around the room for possible prying eyes and listening ears before he looked back to his friend, letting out a sigh. “Look, she- she wanted to go home. Okay? Go to bed. And- and I told her that she should focus on something else. She went out with Caleb because I told her to Angela.”

Angela Lopez had been witness to the many emotions of Tim Bradford over the years that she had known him, but the one he was displaying now, was one that she hadn’t seen in a long time. “You couldn’t have known.”

“But I should’ve! I’m a fucking cop.” He told her, his voice raising with every word as he stepped closer to his friend, lower his voice. “I was standing this close to the guy. Okay? Right across from him, and I never saw him coming.” He vented, his hands returning to his duty belt as he quickly got himself in check. “But she did though. She- Some part of her didn’t feel right about this whole thing. She hesitated and I-I pushed her right into him.”

Angela stood there, her mouth opening and closing as his admission of guilt left her speechless.

“Sergeant Grey!” exclaimed the voice of Marcus, as he stuck his head out of the door of the room.

Tim snapped his head towards the trembling voice as his feet quickly carried him, Angela hot on his heels.  

Tim immediately went to the computer, finding a empty and broken chair on the screen. “Where the fuck is she?”

Marcus hurried back in, quickly pulling up footage on the second computer. “She escaped.”

Tim felt his eyes grow wide as he watched the recorded scene play out before them.

Lucy saw the opportunity, having previously checked the stability of the wooden chair by wiggling the pieces ever so slightly to find the weak spots, she waited for the best moment to make her escape. The chair was wooden, making it easier to break, and as soon as the front door closed, her knew it was time.  As hard as she could, she pulled her right arm that was strapped to the wood, the wood splintering as she moved her wrist to her left hand, undoing the duct tape before removing the tape from her right wrist and then both of her calves.

She never heard the door open again, her hands shaking with adrenaline as she moved quickly to the back wall.

“Okay. We are ready to go.” Said Caleb as he walked into the room.

Lucy pulled her arm back and threw her punch as he walked into the room, knocking him to the ground as the force and lingering drugs forced her unsteady body to the ground. She quickly got to her feet, running towards the door as Caleb gasped in pain on the floor.

“Where did she go?” Sergeant Grey asked, his voice tainted with excitement of her escape.

“There’s no other cameras so we can’t- Shit.” Marcus cursed under his breath, typing furiously into Nolan’s computer. “He cut the feed.”

“What do you mean he cut the feed!” asked Tim, moving closer, finding a black screen in front of him.

“It’s gone, it’s still broadcasting but he must have turned it off.”

Tim ran a hand through his hair as he stepped back.

“What about a trace on the broadcast?”

“The signal is being run through an anonymizer, meaning that each time I try to back trace a location, the ISP is in a different location. He’s keeping it local to LA and the surrounding counties but it’s going to take time that we don’t have to get a better trace.”

The shrill tone of Angela’s phone broke the tension in the room. “Hey. What? He may, let me find out and I will get back to you.” She said ending the call. “That was Nolan, we may have a lead.”

Angela informed the group of Nolan’s suggestion, gaining approval from Sergeant Grey before she made her way to Wesley.

“Hey.” She said as he hung up the phone. “Do you have any clients at the Central California Women’s Facility?”

“Sure.” He said running a list of his clients through his head. “Three, I think.”

“They need to tell you who’s running contraband into the prison.”

“Okay, but I can’t do anything that would incriminate a client.”

“No one cares about black market cigarettes. Getting the smuggler might be out only hope at finding Lucy before it’s too late.” She urged.

“Okay.” Wesley said, picking up the receiver. “Let me make some calls.”

Thirty minutes later, the feed was back online, the screen showing the dirt on the ground, as faint voices could be heard in the background.

“Can we make it louder, hear what their saying?”

Marcus shook his head. “No, this is as loud as it gets for the real time audio.”

A loud rustling could be heard before the image on the screen became distorted, showing Lucy sitting in the barrel.

“So I can watch.” Caleb’s voice came through the speaker before he placed the lid onto the barrel, positioning the camera in Lucy’s face.

“Can you go back?” Grey asked as Nolan’s computer continued showing the live events.

Marcus pressed a variety of buttons on his computer, going back to when the camera showed Lucy sitting inside the metal barrel.

“Slow it down. There.” Grey pointed out. “That tree in the background, if we can get a location...”

Tim’s eyes stayed trained on the live feed, watching as Lucy began panicking. The nauseousness that Tim had felt all morning intensified as he witnessed his boot being sealed into the container, her fate being decided. He couldn’t stand there and watch what was about to happen, watch her- he walked out of the room, heading straight for the locker room.

Angela gasped as the clack of the lock snapping into place echoed through the metal, Lucy’s breaths becoming shaky as a loud thud and tumbling could be heard before coming to a stop, dirt settling around the barrel as Lucy let out a whimper.

“Mute the computer.” Grey instructed somberly, knowing what was about to come.

“Sarge?” Angela whispered.

Wade turned away from the screen, “Did Wesley get anything from his clients?”

“I.. Let me go check.” She told her commanding officer before walking out of the room, returning five minutes later with Wesley in tow.

“Benjamin Lassie. He’s who you want.”

Sergeant Grey turned towards the couple. “Start pulling everything we can on him, if you see Bradford and West grab them, we could use the hands.”

Angela nodded, walking out of the room and towards where she thinks Tim may be.

“Hey.” She said noticing him walking out of the men’s locker room. “Come on, we’ve got a name from Wesley’s client.”

Tim walked ahead of Angela, flexing his left hand, the motion not going unnoticed by the officer, but Angela chose not to comment as they walked to the closest computer terminal.

She worked on pulling the information about their lead, finding out that the low-level criminal had recently been paroled. “He’s on parole, Officer Scott Francisco.”

Tim and Jackson were able to easily find the man, making a traffic stop, obtaining the name and information that they needed.

Jackson glanced at the superior the entire ride back to the station as Tim made the appropriate phone calls, acquiring a no-knock warrant from a more than happy judge and the Mid-Wilshire’s SWAT team. The two uniformed officers parked a block away, staging as SWAT suited up and went over the plan for the breech.

Tim could feel their moods tumble even further down as their promising lead turned into a bust. “Caleb used Jerry’s identity to get into the prison, get close to Rosalind.” He realized, staring down the man sitting in the floor. “And you were our last shot at saving her.”

He stormed out of the house, throwing his gear into the back of the shop as before slamming the hatch closed. He wanted to lash out, yell at someone, chase down every lead they could grasp. But Tim Bradford was slowly giving up hope.

“Hey, check it out.” Jackson said, pulling the older officer out of his pity.

“What’s that?” he asked solemnly, gesturing towards the folder in the rookie’s hand.

“Copies of every credit card statement from the card that Caleb used in Jerry’s name. He may be good with tech but even when you steal someone’s identity, you can’t erase what’s been bought.”

Tim stood, pulling the folder out of Jackson’s hand. He glanced over the statements, a hopeful smile taking over. “There could be charges in here that leads us to Caleb. Let’s go, we’ve gotta get back to the station, get everyone on it.” He said in a rush, closing the folder as he hurried to the driver’s side of the shop.

Jackson pulled out his phone as he sat down in the passenger seat, hitting the contact for the person he needed as the phone began ringing. “Hey, Caleb stole Jerry’s identity just like Brock Coleman’s. Jerry had copies of every credit statement and gave them to us, we’re on our way back.”

“Good, we’ve got a lead here too. Wesley has been going over some of Rosalind’s biographical data, if we can cross-reference those statements with the data, we can find where he’s keeping Chen. Wesley thinks it’s somewhere that’s near and dear to Rosalind’s heart.”

“We’ll be there in ten.” Jackson told her, hanging up the phone, reaching for the file that was haphazardly thrown onto the dash, scanning through the documents.

True to his words they rolled into the parking lot ten minutes later, both walking quickly into the bullpen, finding Sergeant Grey, Angela and Wesley gathered around a table.

“Hey, hey, we’ve got something. Caleb used Jerry’s identity to rent a post office box in Kern County near the prison. But, he kept it up even after he quit. Stills pay for it, so there must be a place close by.”

“Wait, Kerns County?” Angela asked, digging through the piles of papers in front of her. “Rosalind’s family – her trust owns a farm there.” She said handing the paper over to Tim.

Tim grabbed it, looking at the information as he let out an incredulous laugh. “Son of a bitch.”

“Sergeant Grey!” Marcus huffed as he ran to the table. “She’s not got much longer.”

Sergeant Grey stood, pulling out his cell phone, scrolling through his contacts as he delivered orders. “Call Nolan and Harper, get them headed in that direction.” He instructed before speaking to the other person on the phone. “Hello Sir, we believe we have found Officer Chen. Yes Sir. Thank you.” He said as he ended the call. “Chopper will be here in five. Let’s go.”

The four officers stood on the helipad, Jackson keeping an eye on the live feed with his phone. Angela was on the phone with Kern County Sheriff Department, giving instructions to the other person on the line, telling them about the situation and where they were heading, requesting local backup.

“It looks like she’s talking to herself.” He mumbled, moving the speaker of the phone next to his ear, listening to the quiet melody coming from one of his closest friends. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Tim asked, turning to Jackson.

“She’s- she’s singing.” He whispered in disbelief, pressing the volume button of the already maxed out device as a chill went through his spine.

Jackson pulled the device away from his ear, handing it over to Tim who held it up to his own ear, hearing the soft voice of his rookie come through the speaker.

‘Say nighty-night and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me

While I’m alone and blue as can be

Dream a Little Dream of Me’

Tim knew his rookie’s voice, whether it was sitting next to her for hours on end in the shop or listening to the hours long recording of her reading sentence after sentence to help him prepare for his Sergeants exam, he knew her voice. He had heard her sing before, quietly under her breath as she sung along to the song playing on the radio of the shop or her mumbling the words of the song stuck in her head that she had heard on her drive to work that morning. But he knew those words, the melody of the song that he was hearing her softly sing, would haunt him for the rest of his life.

The LA police department helicopter landed on the helipad as Tim stood frozen in place, his rookie’s oxygen deprived voice ringing in his ears.

“Bradford.” Jackson said questioningly. “Sir? Are- are you ok?”

Tim absentmindedly handed the owner of the phone their device back, the wind from the blades of the chopper hitting him, pulling him out of his trance. “Yeah.” He said clearing the emotions that were held his throat. “Let’s go.”

“She’s lost consciousness.” Spoke Jackson through the headset over halfway through the flight. Tim leaned his head back onto the metal wall, silently saying a hopeful prayer as a sense of dread overcame him.

Thirty minutes after takeoff, the helicopter was beginning its decent into an open field when something out of the corner of his eye, caught Tim’s attention.

“A tree.” He said pointing out the right side of the aircraft, remembering the piece of wood from a different perspective. “That’s the tree from the video.”.

The chopper landed, the passengers aboard hastily making their way out of the aircraft as they met the local deputies.

“If our calculations are correct, we’re out of time. Bradford, Lopez make your way up there to the tree, look for fresh dirt. Sheriff, Officer West and I will take your SWAT team and head towards the house where we believe our suspect to be.”

Tim took off in a run, Angela along with a few sheriff deputies following hot on his heels as they quickly approached the hill, scaling it with ease, swiftly reaching the top. He made his way towards the dead tree as Angela instructed the other officers to spread out in different directions in order to cover more ground as he walked the parameter around the dead tree, hoping to find something as he looked for any signs that the ground had recently been disturbed.

The late afternoon sun casted a glow onto the panoramic views around him, showcasing the dry California land that leaves everything in its path tarnished. But the burning star proved to be a blessing instead of a curse as the flash of something metal reflecting the sun’s rays back towards him, gained his attention.

He ran, stumbling over his feet as his knees slammed into the ground. A ring. And not just any ring, it was one his subconscious was familiar with, having seen it adorn her finger a countless number of times.

He picked it up, palming the warm metal holding the opal that was glinting in the sun. ‘She’s close.’ He thought as he stood, looking down at the ground around him before he began to stop on the ground, listening for anything abnormal.

It didn’t take long. “I’ve got her.” He yelled as his voice cracked.

Tim pocketed the ring, calling out once again, louder and more frantically as he fell to his knees, his voice echoing as the footfalls of Angela and the local deputies hurried over. He used his hands, moving away as much of the loose dirt that he could as other hands joined the effort, one of the deputies using an expandable shovel, casting it behind them.

“Come on.” He chanted under his breath as the metal lid of the barrel was exposed. He reached over, undoing the metal clasp as someone shoved the metal of the shovel under the lid, lifting the piece off in ease.

“Lucy.” He sighed as his arms reached in for her slumped form. “Help me get her. Let’s get her.”

“We need medical.” Someone said in the background, speaking into their handheld.

“Lucy.” He said once they extracted her as they laid her down.

“Is she breathing?” Angela asked as he glanced at her chest, finding no movement as his fingers went to her neck, feeling for a pulse.

“No, I’ve got no pulse.”

Tim leaned over, pinching her nose, giving her two rescue breaths as Angela moved beside him, counting out as she performed the thirty compressions. Tim giving her another two breaths, “Come on Lucy.” He whispered.

“Suspect had been neutralized.”

“MedEvac is five out.”

“Dammit Chen! Not like this.” He cursed as Angela counted to thirty once again as he leaned over, once again breathing for her. “Switch.”

Angela moved back and into Tim’s previous position as he laced his fingers together, pushing hard and fast into her chest.

“Tim…” Angela said worriedly.

“No!” He said in between counts. Angela was prepared to give another round of rescue breaths when a gasp came from before them.

“Holy shit.” Angela cursed, letting out the breath she had been holding.

Tim huffed out a laugh, smiling. “Lucy.” He breathed as both her arms rose, preparing for a fight. “Hey, hey, hey, you’re ok. It’s me.”

Lucy looked around with hooded eyes, as her head lulled to the side, staring at Tim as reality settled in, the tears escaping as she began to sob. He leaned over, pulling her into him, mindful of her injuries.

“I’ve got you Lucy.” He mumbled into her hair as her shaky hands grasped onto his uniform for dear life. “I’ve got you.” He repeated as she sobbed in his arms.

The next few hours passed in a blur, the medical helicopter flying in, loading up Lucy and taking her to the closest hospital.

“I’m going with her.” Tim sternly told the flight medic on board as they went to stop him from getting aboard. The medic knew then not put up a fight, watching as the officer climbed aboard, sitting next to his patient.

Soon they were in the air, Lucy holding on to Tim’s hand as the medic began their assessment. Her grasp never waned from his, even in her altered state of consciousness as he ran his free hand over her hair. He stayed by her side, never leaving her until they reached the awaiting staff of the emergency department.

“Sir, I know that she’s your partner, but I’m going to have to ask for you to leave.”

“I’m not-“

“We need to assess her injuries Officer Bradford.” The nurse stated firmly. “And in order to do that, you need to leave.”

“I-“ he hesitated as all the fight left him. “Ok.” He sighed, letting go of her hand. “Just let me- I’ll be back boot.”

Lucy sleepily smiled at his words.

He did come back, never leaving her side for longer than what he deemed necessary, keeping her unconscious form company as he sat at her bedside. They were two hours from home, affirming his decision to not go, at least not until he knew that she was ok. Wesley drove from LA, picking Angela up from the farmhouse with a change of clothes in the trunk, stopping by to give Tim his own fresh clothes and the emergency bag of clothes Lucy kept in her locker.

Jackson showed the next morning, giving Tim a break though he only left to stretch his legs before returning to the room. They sat in silence, Tim filling out his reports as Jackson scrolled through the apps on his phone. Around noon, Jackson stood mentioning going out to grab something to eat from the mom-and-pop burger stand that just so happened to have a second location nearby, Tim giving the rookie some cash and reciting the two orders he knew by heart.

He kept an eye on the clock, knowing that Lucy’s parents were due to arrive at any moment, Tim personally keeping them updated throughout the night on any improvements. There was none as the doctor chose to keep her sedated, but it was the thought that counts.

Tim was sitting on the doctor’s stool at her bedside when she came to, pretending to read a magazine as he watched her wake up. Lucy knew he was fooling no one as she chuckled.

“What are you reading, Teen Rebel?”

Tim looked at her with a teasing grin as he rolled over to her. “They actually have some really insightful political articles.”

“Mmm-hmmm.” She said not believing him. “Oh. Which BTS member is your soulmate? It’s gotta be Suga, right?” she asked him as she leveled a look.

“Totally.” He agreed shaking his head as he skimmed the questions, not clear on what she was talking about. “What’s a BTS?”

Lucy laughed, a bad decision as her broken ribs protested at the movement. “Oh God.” She cried out in anguish as she took a steady breath, breathing through the pain.

Tim watched her with concern, masking it as she turned to him with a smile.

“Have you been here all night?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“No.” he denied, shaking his head as he forced out another no, repeating the word as he looked away from her stare.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Mm-hmm.” She said about to call her training officer out on his lying capabilities when a knock sounded at the door.

“Hey.” Nolan smiled as he walked through the door. “You’re awake.”

Lucy turned her head, changing her posture in the bed as Jackson walked through the door, carrying a bag. “Hey. Is that food?” she asked excitedly, causing the men in her life to chuckle. “What, I’m starving ok?”

“I would wait on the food Officer Chen.” A quite voice said as they walked into the room, knocking on the door. “Doctor Allison Rivera. And you, Lucy Chen are one very lucky lady.” Lucy nodded absentmindedly at the words, she didn’t think herself to be lucky.

“You have several abrasions and a few stiches throughout, as well as a slight concussion along with two broken ribs and moderate dehydration.”

“Does that mean I’m going to be in the hospital for a while?”

“I believe that you can be discharged tomorrow. Your body is dehydrated, and I want to make sure no other complications arise.”

She turned her head, looking towards Tim. “How did you guys find me anyways?”

Tim opened his mouth to speak when Nolan interrupted. “It was all of us. I talked to Rosalind, Jackson found the credit card statements, Angela found the farm, Wesley talked to some of his clients and Tim made all the connections.”

Lucy nodded her head appreciatively. “Thank you.”

“Oh!” Nolan said removing the item from behind his back. “I brought you something.”

She smiled, laughing at the enormous pink teddy bear that was in his hands.  “I can see that.”

“It was the biggest one I could find.”

“I would hope so.” She gingerly laughed once again. “Oh my god, I’m going to need a bigger apartment.”

“I think we’ll be just fine Lucy.” Jackson told her, smiling as he rolled his eyes.

“Thank you Nolan.”

“Hey!” Jackson weakly protested. “I brought you food! Besides, he cannot stay in my room.”

“Well, he is a she, and she is going to be sleeping with me in my bed, since I am clearly never going on a date again.”

“I’m not sure that should be your takeaway.” Doctor Rivera said from the foot of the bed, watching the interaction.

“Oh, hang on.” Nolan said looking at the doctor. “Statistically, that’s actually pretty safe.”

Tim quickly glanced at Lucy before looking away, nodding his head. “Definitely should.”

“Wow, so is this the kind of support and understanding I can look forward to from now on?” she asked as she looked around at each of them.

“Yes.”

“Pretty much.”

“Oh definitely.”

Lucy chuckled at their responses. “That’s great. That’s really good.”

“You hungry?” Tim asked her before looking at the doctor.

“You can eat, just keep the portions small and non-greasy for right now.”

Lucy nodded as she opened the Styrofoam container in front of her. “Wait. Is this- is this a veggie burger and fries with extra pickles?” she asked, looking at Jackson.

“Don’t thank me, it was all Bradford.”

Lucy picked up a fry, turning her head and smiled. “You know me so well.”

Tim laughed as she let out a sigh, chewing the greasy potato. “Too well.”

“Well, I’ve got other rounds to make but I will be back by this evening to check in on you. A nurse will be by shortly to take vitals and give you some medicine for the pain.” Doctor Rivera said, dismissing herself.

“Your parents called me on the way up and said they’re on their way, I’m gonna go meet them downstairs. Come on Nolan.”

“Oh great just who I wanted to see.” She mumbled, rolling her eyes as Jackson left.

“I’ve actually got a date with Grace in three hours, so I’ve got to head back to LA. But I will swing by your apartment tomorrow with pastries.”

Lucy’s face lit up at the word pastries. “Make sure there’s a bear claw!”

“For you, I’ll make sure there’s two.” He smiled, saying goodbye as he walked out of the room.

Lucy sighed, leaning her head back, closing her eyes. “Are my parents seriously coming?” she whined.

“Yes.”

She let out a groan, opening her eyes as she reached for the burger. “Don’t get me wrong, I love them, most of the time- but after all of this, I just don’t-“ she sighed, her words drifting off as she took a bite.

“You’re their only child Chen.”

She swallowed the bite. “I know, but-“

“Give them thirty minutes and then tell them you’re tired.”

Lucy turned her head. “Is that not the equivalent of going to the bathroom on a date and not returning?”

Tim shrugged before hesitantly speaking. “How are you?” he asked, his tone low and laced with concern.

“I’m-“ she began before letting out a sigh “I’m alive.”

He nodded at her honesty. She wasn’t ok, he wasn’t ok, and they both knew it.

She moved her left hand to the edge of the bed, leaving her palm up. “Thank you.” She whispered. “I don’t-“ she began, choking on her words as tears welled in her eyes.

“It’s ok Luce.” He whispered back, placing his hand in hers. Lucy relished in the feel of his hand in hers before a knock on the door tore them apart, her mom rushing in.

Tim rolled the chair away from the bed, wordlessly reminding her of his suggestion as her parents began speaking rapidly. Lucy looked past them towards Tim, her face pleading for help. He chuckled, shaking his head before moving silently towards the door. They weren’t ok, but with time (and a lot of therapy) they could be.

[lampoest]

Unfiltered thoughts watching mission impossible rouge nation inspired by @chaotically-cas

(sorry its so long my brain is all over the place)

this is also part 14 of me watching it every day :/

CURSING WARNING !! ALSO SPOILERS !!!

why is brandt first to speak

starting out with "shit" good call benji

brandt man we get the package is on the mcfucking plane

badass luther 10/10

nervous benji 10/10

that one sound effects sounds like the discord notif

why he in a fancy suit

*jumps on a plane with almost no plan on getting inside*

why did tom cruise think this was agood idea?

but like why would benji even open the ramp?

how is he not winded from that?

classic ethan

THE INTRO 1000/10

SOLOMON LANE !!

wait you can already see lane in the record shop.

how do they tell the agents these little convos?

also damn way to give it away

what if someone just looked in that room and saw the secret message?

also how did the disc get changed? because the imf definitely didnt make that

and how did lane know where he was going?

speaking of lane---

dang that man is pretty

he always sets guns down carefully

i can only see alec baldwin as trump from his snl skits so i dont take hunley seriously ;-;

damn brandt needs to step it up. man keeps letting himself be inturrupted

bruh the imf is only luck

why did no one resrict his legs?

also why is janik such an asshole?

dang she cool !!

why does it take janik so long to get that gun?

bravo-echo 1-1

this man is bleeding but decided instead of taking care of his wound he calls brandt.

i like how you actually see ethan worried and confused trying to plan his next moves. he is rarely caught off guard so it's refreshing to see his more human side

hunley spitting accusations damn bro

also a big fuck you from ethan to hunley

dang ethan is good

brandts little hidden smile

and ethan leaving trails

bitch how you sketch that good???

STAN BENJI !!

youve won, your way out of a job

benji is good

my little brandt x benji shipper in me is happy

simon pegg is such a good actor

the first time i saw this i was like: aww noooo

all dunn with that

TO THE OPERA !!!

TUX BENJI TUX BENJI

i cant tell if that was ethan

it just looks like youre talking to yourself thats more sus than using a phone

want drama? go to the opera

ok but like if you look like that im sorry you are a bad guy. thats like a stereotypical bad guy face

benji-

you can see ethan in the background of that scene

flute gun flute gun

oh no benji is in the closet. dont worry man we love you

if i were there and i just had a good vantage point i could find lane in an instant

ooh ilsa pretty

pipe gun

also pamphlet computer

those key things are cool and plausible

spiderman spiderman does whatever, ethan hunt can?

a W O M A N

what W O M A N?

reminds me of a marshmallow gun i made out if pvc pipes.

why does she not put that thing back?

also the dude loads it and then later it is unloaded

dang that guy is pretty tall.

ethan is so tiny

dis bitch is like uhh gimmie a sec to catch my breath mate

why he only dropkick people?

only 30 mins in ?!?!

the cinematography is exquisite

yes benji goin sicko mode

*gets shot* just a flesh wound

bruh i would've been so startled at that

i love how confused he is at that

ilsa saves ethan once again

they did this on the first day of filming

skdjs

ah yes random package in car = not bomb totally

if she tried to shoot benji then yes she is a bad person

but she didnt try to, she could've easily but didn't

benji being paranoid

she could just say the dude's name

benji being scared

hunley jumping to conclusions

brandt actually cares yeey

why di they approach from different sides of the street they were in the same car.

benji was far away from the sparks why he flinch?

friendship goals

oop plot dump that only mission impossible can get away with

ok...

why this mf's voice so smooth

lane is struggling with chopsticks

also lane :))))

ive chocked on my water so many times watching this scene

lanes voice :))))))

SHE RUINED HIS SUSHI WHAT THE FUCK ILSA

this man dont know what personal space is

gotta look up these peeps mbti types

casablanca references

also benji is wearing dollar store lookin glasses while ethan is wearing some fancy glasses

luther is top notch

as much as i dont like jeremy renner he delivers these lines really well

because atlee is a bitch

oh honey please, impossible is a walk in the park

benji just wants to wear a mask

id be so nervous walking through those

yes...

personal wellbeing who?

why not bring a plastic bottle full of air?

tom cruise can hold his breath for 6 minutes and he learned to do so for that scene

luther big brain

damn cctv

why did they need to break in while benji was going in?

das sus but ok

also isnt et voila french?

she just randomly tapping the ipad

benji being stressed

if he missed the exact center

i want one of those to open my locker's lock

if he just went with the current and didnt try to force his way against the water ilsa wouldn't have had to save him

imagine if he put the wrong one in-

she is breathing heavily to over saturate her body with oxygen so she can hold her breath longer

see ilsa makes it out without well and she went with the current

BENJI'S OUTFIT YESSS :))))))

no you didn't

you gave her a false sense of security

ethan's confused face for the next like 10 mins is great

liar

why does that one man look like sean ambrose?

parkour

skdjdksjdjdkfjs

the facial acting in this

STAIRS STAIRS STAIRS

the glare yesss

vrrrm vrrm

hey its you !

drivin like a grandma

shit !

benji just screaming

im convinced that ethan is indestructible

no you didn't survive that

bonk

dskfh

ethan didnt just-

also why didnt benji just tell ethan he made a copy ???

dont shoot and drive kids

high speed motorcycle chase with no helmet or leather. tom cruise, how?

i wanna learn how to drive a motorcycle

HOW THE FUCK IS HE NOT DEAD YET ?!?!

the lighting

ofc brandt would be the person why sits backwards on a chair. fkn bi vibes

benji to the rescue

fuck off atlee

i am so proud of us ...

the lines are done so well here

benji lookin like how i look when my parents argue

YES THIS SCENE

LANE LANE LANE LANE LANE

im too fucking gay for this movie-

once again no personal space

*inhales* :))))))))))))))

ive like memorized the entire script of this including the music

1 man performance of m:i5 ???

benji's outfit

also i love how youre able to see the characters in the background. props for the attention to detail

i need that haircut because his hair is lookin A+

fuck you atlee

ilsa spitting straight facts

uhh ilsa he still loves julia

NO BENJI NOOOO

EW FUCK OFF JANIK NO ONE LIKES YOU

speak of the devil-

betrayal--

WOULDNT YOU LIKE TO KNOW WEATHER BOY !??

actin sus

BENJI LANE BENJI LANE

his posture shdhskhsj (i cant be talking though)

0 personal space whatsoever

why does everyone have the same haircut in this???

simon mcburney pretending to be hunt prentending to be atlee

manipulation !?

the syndicate you say ? i know a thing or two about them 😼😼😼

damn though renner delivers these lines really well

a black tie? how informal. ..

complimenting hunt right infront of him

but he really didnt

i never realized that they were on the clock for this

huh...

the lil head nod though-

HAHA YEAH FUCK YOU ATLEE

is it bad that i hate atlee more than i hate lane?

ethan big smart wrinkle brain

janik just reading a fucking magazine

ethan has a photographic memory

oh look its benji :)))

lane :))))

ethan being tough

it must be aquward to get the low angle shots

lane is running out the clock to put pressure on ethan hmmm big brain

it isnt working though :\

damn he so cocky that hes telling the villain his plan

ill give you 1/5 of the money you wanted to get my bf back

ok but like does tom cruise just not age?

kill the woman

ugh i hate janik

the trust that is shown between those two is great

yes the score and the chase are so great

also this man really hates windows for some reason

fuck off janik

sneaky sneaky

EYY ITS LANE !!!

yeyy janik is dead

once again dodging bullets and hating glass

couldve killed him but needed him alive

the glass box

badass ethan

all the pretty men assembled

lane really let himself go aster this

dang though lane is my favorite villain ever

i like how for once the girl and the guy just are friends instead of romantically involved

eyy the callbacks to how the movie started.

welcome to the imf

[whumpingcrow]

Ink Poisoning - Chapter 1

Introduction

Surprise! A new story, new characters, inspired by all the lovely authors of tumblr who do BBU or WRU writing :) enjoy!!

CW: BBU and everything in relation to that, drugs/alcohol, party themes/setting, plane mention, college setting, breakup mention, tattooing/tattoo shop mentions (let me know if I missed anything!)

Nicko and Salem had never really been too close. They lived a few houses away from each other in high school, had some of the same classes, and were tied in with the same friend groups. They were friends, as much as you could be friends with someone you only hang out with cause they’re close by, but not close by any means. Salem felt a certain way about Nicko, he always had, a way that told him to keep himself a safe distance from him. Maybe it was his recklessness, the way he did awful, often mean, things seemingly on impulse, just because it popped into his head and he wanted to follow through. He was unreasonably harsh and manipulative and just attractive and charismatic enough to not suffer the repercussions.

Because of this, Salem wasn’t really entirely sure how he had ended up living with the kid in his last two years of college. Both him and Nicko had gotten into the state college and were both art majors (Nicko was in visual arts and Salem in music), so they had been around each other since they both moved into the dorms as smooth faced freshmen. Nicko was on the football team for the first year and a half, then he got kicked from the team. At that point he hadn’t spoken to Salem for a while, so he never figured out the real reason why. He heard gossip, that Nicko was caught doing drugs, that he had slept with the coach’s daughter, that he’d been fighting, but it was impossible to know if it was the truth. On one hand, Salem wouldn’t exactly be surprised if it was something like that, but on the other hand he didn’t want to believe that he was that bad. After that, he focused on his studies. Salem saw him around campus working in sketch books or on a canvas, sometimes he would show up to a class covered in paint and tired, like he’d been working on something all night. He was also doing an internship at a tattoo shop, he got paid a lot to stab people with needles, and he genuinely enjoyed it. Plus, Salem had seen some of the stuff he’d made, and he certainly had talent, even though he was sort of a dick.

During that time, freshman and sophomore year, Salem was pretty preoccupied in his own respects, so these were the only things he really knew about Nicko. Those two years had been difficult, looking back on it he was surprised he was able to pass all of his classes with what he had going on. There was a messy relationship, horrible breakup, and he used it mostly to put into his music. He wrote some of his best pieces about it, so in a way he was thankful. He was better off now, anyway.

Now, he and Nicko lived together off-campus, along with three other art majors who neither of them knew too well, but rent was cheaper with more people and they were easy enough to get along with. School was almost over, it was their last stretch of their senior year, and things were good. Salem’s future was looking promising, he’d already been speaking to different producers and composers who he’d been set up with by his teachers, as soon as he graduated he would have enough saved up to buy his own place, closer to where he would work, on his own. Life was so simple, Salem was happy and hopeful and for once, things made sense. He just had to get through winter break, then the last few grueling months would crawl by, and then he would be free.

But then winter break came and went, Salem went back north to visit his parents, and when he got back things suddenly got...complicated.

Nicko would insist over and over again to Salem that they had “talked about this!” and he tried to persuade him by saying “you said it could be cool!” every time they talked about it afterwards. Salem told him that bringing it up as a concept while they were getting drunk after midterms was not talking about it.

What happened was someone had read an article somewhere, maybe it was from a click bait thing on Instagram or a frightening news article on facebook, and had brought it up while they were all throwing back beers before they went out to their own respective parties. It was about something Salem had only heard hushed whispers about online, he wasn’t even sure how legit it was because of how rarely he heard about it: boxies. The word made him cringe every time one of them threw it out drunkenly, like it was something cute. If what Salem had heard about it was true, they were essentially criminals who were brainwashed (or trained, as they liked to call it to sound more appealing) instead of taking another sentence. Box Boys, Box Babes, they had more gross marketing names, all involving a box. Supposedly it was because they were notoriously shipped to you conveniently in a box right to your front porch, as if they were an Amazon package. Yes, living human beings stuffed inside of a box and left on your porch, just waiting to be let out so they can start doing whatever it is they’ve been retrained to do. And somehow it was all completely legal, if you did it through certain companies.

So, that’s what they’d been talking about, when Salem looked back on it, all he remembered from the conversation was something like:

“Dude, how the fuck is owning a boxie legal at all? I was just reading this article and-”

"Those are like, those servant things you order online or whatever? I've heard about those, I think."

“That’s not the point, Nicko. I’m talking about how it’s fucking crazy this is allowed.”

“I think it’s cool. I mean if it were me I’d rather get to live in a house as like...a maid or whatever than go to jail. Jail sucks. I dunno, I think it’s cool. What about you, Cobain?”

Salem hated when Nicko called him that, he’d been doing it since freshman year, when one of Salem’s songs was suddenly being passed around the school in a youtube video he’d forgotten he’d posted. Nicko told him that it was edgy, that he sounded like Kurt Cobain. That would have been fine, Salem really wouldn’t have cared, if Nicko hadn’t personally told him before how much he hated Nirvana, how the music sucked. So every time he used the nickname it was patronizing, a little stab at him.

Still, Salem merely looked up from his laptop, he was probably checking back on his flight information for going back home, maybe checking to see if his test scores were posted yet, and scowled at him. “Yeah, Picasso, I think that owning a person is super cool.” He’d been sarcastic, obviously so, and Nicko knew that.

And still, here he was, telling Salem that he’d “agreed” to getting this boxie. Salem would disagree every time, and Nicko would just roll his eyes and shrug his shoulders and he would get away with it. He was always getting away with shit, it was really starting to piss Salem off.

The day Salem got back from break it had been snowing. The drive back from the airport was stressful, it was late, Salem just wanted to go home and sleep. Going back to the town he grew up in was draining, sometimes. It reminded him of complicated times and hopelessness. He wanted to forget all about those feelings, things were going good, he could be hopeful now, and going back home made those feelings a little...muted, for a while. So he figured he’d go home, get into bed, sleep it off, and get back to being hopeful in the morning.

Only he couldn’t do that, because of course Nicko was having a party. He usually called it “having people over”, because he was trying to be an adult now and that’s what adults usually said, but when it consisted of beer pong and body shots that didn’t seem like the right term. The lawn was covered in cars, so was the driveway, so were both sides of the street directly outside. Salem had to park halfway down the block, get his suitcase and guitar, and walk down the street. To his own house. He wanted to break Nicko’s face.

When he walked into the house, the air was thick with smoke and reeked of pot and sweat and booze. The living room was mostly empty, Salem could see from the front door that almost everyone was in the kitchen playing some sort of drinking game or outside. The house was a mess, almost all the lights were off so Salem couldn’t see the full damage yet, but he could tell that he wasn’t going to like it when he did. He shuffled into the house, kicking away cups and bottles as he walked past them. Part of him wanted to just turn around and get back in his car and drive far away, never come back and never see Nicko or this shitty house again. But he had to stick to his plan, he had to play it safe here.

“Salem!” He snapped his head up, in the direction of the voice, sighing when he saw it was Nicko’s girlfriend, Aurora. Or Rory, as most people called her. She had dyed her hair a bright, shocking blue since Salem had last seen her, if he remembered correctly she had it a pale pink before. Her makeup was dark and heavy, like it usually was, making her eyes look all that more intense and striking. Except for right then, because she was very obviously high, her eyes hooded and lazy. She was sitting on the couch, a boy who looked a lot younger than her on his knees right in between her legs. He looked even more fucked up than she did, glaring hard at the floor and swaying slightly as she raked her fingers through his messy, dark hair. As Salem approached them, the kid flinched away from him and snapped his eyes up to look at him. He didn’t pay too much attention to him, too distracted by his anger. Rory had to shout over the music just a little when she started talking again. “I was wondering when you were gonna be back! How was your tri-”

“Where the fuck is Nicko?” He interrupted. His hand was tight around the handle to his guitar case, he could feel his heartbeat in his closed fist.

Rory gawked at him, then her crimson painted lips turned up into a lazy smile and she laughed. “Wow, someone’s in a mood,” she teased, “why don’t you have a drink? Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Rory. Tell me where he fucking is!”

Rory turned her attention downwards, toward the rough looking boy on the floor in front of her. Salem followed her gaze, realizing that he was now shaking, pressing his thin frame against Rory’s leg like he couldn’t get close enough. He was looking at Salem’s shoes, his face twisted up in a nervous frown. Rory instantly leaned close to him, hands on his cheeks and lips against his jaw, saying something in a real low, soft voice. She was calming him down, soothing him, Salem noticed, because he had frightened him.

Salem realized, then, how angry he sounded, shouting and cursing, and he sighed to himself. He decided he’d be better off just going to bed, putting in earplugs and waiting until the morning to deal with the problem. It’s not like he’d really be able to fight Nicko anyway, he was so much taller and he’d been on the football team and honestly Salem just wasn’t equipped for fighting. So he turned away from both of them and made his way down the hallway, to his room. He locked his door and set his things down, then he promptly stripped down to his boxers and got into bed.

The next morning, Salem was surprised to wake up to a clean, quiet house. He walked down the hallway, expecting at any second to see all of the trash pushed into a corner somewhere, he didn’t think Nicko would have cleaned up himself, unprompted. But it was clean all the way through, and he was impressed when he walked into the living room and saw Nicko, decked out in all black clothes and black boots, relaxing on the couch with his keys clutched readily in his hands, like he was leaving. He was speechless, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he approached him.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Nicko teased, tilting his head back and looking him up and down, “how was your trip?”

“Uh...good.” Salem answered, voice still gruff from sleep.

“Morning, Salem!”

He turned to see Rory standing there in fishnets and an oversized hoodie, dramatically tall heels wrapped around her ankles, making Salem wonder how she was standing straight. One time, when Nicko was busy doing an art piece or working on school work, he couldn’t remember now, she and Salem had been in the kitchen alone and Rory told him that she liked to wear tall heels because Nicko likes when she’s short and it entertains her to bother him. She said the best part of her day sometimes is irritating Nicko.

Behind Rory, standing with his head dipped downwards and his shoulders slightly hunched, was the same scared looking kid from the night before. He was allowing Rory to pull him along by his wrist, focusing on his shiny black boots, ones that he looked rather unsteady in, like he wasn’t used to tall shoes. His thin, oversized black tee shirt hung off of one boney shoulder, showcasing a few tattoos up on his collar bone and neck. They looked fresh, like they were healing. After Salem scanned the rest of his body (why was he wearing shorts and a tee shirt!? It was snowing outside!), he had healing tattoos all over, scattered every few inches. Were they all new? Salem didn’t know much about tattooing, but he didn’t think that was safe.

Salem didn’t realize he’d been staring at him, silent, until Rory cleared her throat, redirecting his attention to her. “He’s cute, huh?” She smiled, smacking her gum at him. “Nicko picked out a good one.”

“I...What?” Salem muttered.

“Our boxie,” she explained, holding his limp arm up in the air and waving it a little, making the kid flinch hard, “You were looking at him. Isn’t he precious?”

Now, he was shrinking in on himself more, looking rather embarrassed and ashamed, his face hidden mostly by his floppy hair. Salem frowned at him, then at Rory, then at Nicko, who was smiling smugly.

“You didn’t.”

Nicko laughed at him, and thus began the famous “You said it would be cool” argument. Salem was so shocked in the moment he wasn’t able to form a proper argument, so Nicko took both Rory and the boxie out the door and into the snow with him.

So that’s when things got complicated. Well, not necessarily right away, but that was the thing that kickstarted it all. It was a total snowball effect, where one bad thing happens and it just gets worse and collects more velocity and severity the longer it goes on, until it’s huge and it can’t be stopped and it flattens a poor snowboarder or a small city. Salem had to finish school, he had to start living his life and building his career, he didn’t have time to worry about huge snowball problems. That could ruin everything, all of his hard work and pain would have been pointless. All because Nicko decided to get a fucking boxie.

[twh-news]

Loki’s production designer on the Modernist inspiration behind the show’s stunning visuals | The Art Newspaper

By Helen Stoilas

Kasra Farahani explains why the Time Variance Authority waiting room looks so much like the Breuer building, and how the inside of a Fabergé egg became an alien train carriage.

Fans of Modernist design can find a lot to appreciate in Loki, the television series starring Tom Hiddleston recently released by Marvel Studios on the streaming channel Disney+. The stunning production is clearly influenced by Brutalist and Neo-Futurist architecture, as well as Soviet Socialist art and sculpture. Visual references can be seen from the very first episode, in which the magic-wielding god of mischief is apprehended by a universe-spanning police force known as the Time Variance Authority for “crimes against the Sacred Timeline” (stay with us).

One early scene, for example, was filmed on a custom-built set that bears a striking resemblance to the lobby of the Marcel Breuer building in New York which once housed the Whitney Museum—and now houses the Frick—while another was shot on location in the Neo-Futurist Atlanta Marriott Marquis hotel, designed by the architect John C. Portman, Jr (with some monumental statues later edited into the soaring atrium). The Art Newspaper spoke to the series’ production designer, Kasra Farahani, about his inspirations for the look of the show.

The Art Newspaper: Loki's director, Kate Herron has called this series a love letter to sci-fi and you see a lot of visual homages to films like Brazil, A Clockwork Orange and Blade Runner. But there's also a clear influence of Modernist design on the look of the series overall. You studied industrial design early in your career. Were there specific examples of Modernist architecture and design that you were looking at when you started working on the series?

Kasra Farahani: So many, everyone from Frank Lloyd Wright to Breuer, to Mies van der Rohe to Paul Rudolph—you have a shot in the John Portman building—to Oscar Niemeyer. And then a lot of Eastern European, Soviet-influenced Modernism played a big part in it as well. I can honestly tell you that my first and foremost inspiration was Modernism. Part of that is because the TVA (Time Variance Authority) is a bureaucracy and I think, archetypically, so much of what we know a bureaucracy to be is that post-war, highly funded institutional look. And there's a lot of different versions of that, whether it's the Washington, DC version, like the Hoover building, or whether it's what we had in Los Angeles, where I grew up, where there's a huge amount of post-war architecture built for the population boom. Like the elementary school, middle school and high school that I went to were all mid-century Modernist.

I was also looking a lot at Brutalism and the Modernism in former Soviet states, that are heavily influenced by Socialism and Soviet architecture, and where scale is such a big driving force of the design.

The size of some of the buildings in the show are kind of overwhelming. I know that some filming was done in the Atlanta Marriott Marquis, with that huge soaring atrium. You just completely get dwarfed by that kind of architecture.

Yeah, that's right. That one we used for the TVA archives because we couldn't justify building a big set, but once I scouted it, I saw that we could bring in these massive Time-Keeper sculptures at the scale you would typically only see in an exterior, which is a fantastical thing. The TVA sets themselves, which were almost entirely full 360-degree sets, were very much designed as an intentional paradox between the stoic, large-scale Brutalism form language, and the surfacing and palette and whimsical patterning, which is very much taken from American mid-century Modern. Those two things create these spaces that feel at once super intimidating and then uncomfortably inviting and warm at the same time.

That’s kind of the irony of a lot of Modernism, Brutalism especially, it had these utopian ideals of creating affordable social housing, but then a lot of the people found it really oppressive to live in.

Yeah. Modernism has been that way the whole time—it was designed to be super cheap and utilitarian and routinely it ends up being the most expensive kind of architecture. Another thing readers may be curious to know about is the TBA expanse, which is essentially the view outside some windows.

That futuristic cityscape you can see….

Yeah. They had very strange and unique parameters to try to design that. The TVA exists outside of the physical world—so there's no weather, there's no roofs, there's no difference between interior and exterior, there's not necessarily even gravity in the way that we know it. But there are these meandering colonnades that we took a lot of inspiration from Brasilia—and obviously a lot of the super cities that were drawn in comics. But also there's some really beautiful conceptual sketches that Frank Lloyd Wright did of a version Los Angeles in the early 20th century that had Roman-like colonnades and plazas and a lot of that fed into what the TVA expanse is.

You mentioned all the sets you built for Loki, especially for the TVA. There's two that where used a lot. The Time Theater, where so much of kind of Loki’s personal story gets told, and looks like its straight out of the Barbican in London, with these huge colour-coded directional numbers on the walls. And then there's the Miss Minutes waiting room with those circular lights that looks almost exactly like the lobby of the Breuer building in New York—to the point where I reached out to the museum to ask if you’d filmed there. You even got the silver-tipped light bulbs right.

We were very inspired by that, but it's different in some very subtle, but for me, very important ways. Number one, the size of the bulbs is much smaller, they were manipulated to create eyeballs, basically. Another important difference is that in the Breuer building, they have these dishes hanging in space, whereas in ours, they're negative space, there's a solid ceiling. It creates a matrix of eyeballs peering down, like the always-watching Time-Keepers. And maybe the most important difference is that the ceiling is slammed down—you know the cheapest apartment you can go into has an eight-foot ceiling, this is six inches shorter than that, and our actor is about six-foot-three. The idea was to create a sort of trash compactor feeling in this claustrophobic space with this matrix of eyes, watching as all of this is happening.

The time theater was for me very inspired by Pier Luigi Nervi.

I liked that waffle coffered ceiling you have in that room.

Thanks. We were very happy with it, and it created this kind of forest of light columns which helps set the neo-noirish, interrogative nature of the space. And the unnecessarily large super graphics that you mentioned are a very Paul Rudolph sort of a thing, he did that in his building too, and I love that.

For me, it’s very important not to reference a set design from other films, that why I reference architecture, painting, photography, these other art forms, more than anything else, because inevitably when you’re working in archetypes, there’s a lot of overlap.

And as Loki goes into different times and locations, you get a completely different design environment in those places. There’s a scene on a train car, that has a very Art Deco look.

That was inspired by the inside of a Fabergé egg, Art Deco meets Alien.

And when you finally meet the Time-Keepers in the most recent episode, it’s like they're in a pre-Colombian pyramid or a ziggurat.

I was looking at Indian stepwells, this almost fractal quality with these descending stairs going into one another—but we imagined them going out every direction, with an Escher-like quality, like they are tessellating themselves to infinity.

I read on Twitter that you literally bought a bowling alley from Omaha and brought it to Atlanta to create Loki's Palace in the Void in the last episode, which is this crazy, surreal, amusement park, junk yard-like place.

We bought the floor of a bowling alley, everything else we built. That was a lot of fun because the script gave us a lot of runway. The proposal was to do this bowling alley because essentially everything in the Void has been discarded from time, and more things fall into it and accumulate and so you end up with these strata. I liked the idea of like a bowling alley that's been smashed over your knee or something. The net effect is when you first enter, you have all these lane lines pointing down at this throne, which was supposed to be stolen from a mall Santa. And then there's these crazy alien plants that are growing through it that have taken parasitic hold of the place. In many ways, I think its a narrative microcosm of the Void itself, which is like a salad bar of these disparate aberrations slammed together. Things like the bowling alley all have these micro-narratives that we in the art department have come up with to help flush out the design and make them specific. For example, there's portraits on the wall of like bowler of the month, and they’re not quite human. It's not in the episode, but those things are important for us in the art department.

At the very end of the most recent episode, we get a glimpse into this city that Loki and Sylvie (played by Sophia Di Martino) are walking into. Can tell us anything about what inspired those scenes, what we're about to see?

You can call me back in a week. All I can say is that the TVA is definitely the visual and narrative anchor of the story, but there's a lot of great worlds to see. And I think what people are responding to is the breadth of the visual variety of the show. And episode six won't be any different. It's really cool, and maybe some of my favorite stuff.

[lovestrucked-again]

Sanguine I Mafia

Genre: Mafia AU Warnings: dark themes Word Count: 3k ANON Ask: Hi I really LOVE your writing and I’d like to request the reader in the nct mafia series gets in some trouble with another company. Serious trouble. But on accident. So the boys have to really work something out to get her back – I’ve taken the idea and done a little series, hope you like it <3 Summary: You were a second year med student taken in by the house of NCT. It’s not uncommon to be the last to learn things within the house but when your safety is threatened, your forced to leave home with no option. But it only makes things worse.

****

Waking up to a loud racket in the morning was nothing new or surprising for you. After moving in, the rarity of having a silent morning was priceless and you could only dream of those days. However, for this Thursday morning, waking up so late in the morning was a disaster, finding out you’re running late to your morning lecture wasn’t what you were expecting. As a second year med student, suggested by yours truly, Qian Kun, you were crushed by the weight of content, leading to late study nights and hectic schedules.

When you were first bought in, you were still a first year student, confused in what course direction to take, what your interests were, and your own capability. As you got comfortable within the house while your first year ended, Kun suggested going into medical school, noticing your attention to detail and caring nature. Lucky for you, your studies were never an issue and getting in proved no difficulty.

Your bedside clock given as a gift from Doyoung (because your always late), showed 8:02am, 28 minutes before it starts. Quickly jumping out of bed you ran to your bathroom, brushing through the knots that had formed in your hair overnight and taking a shower. After getting dressed and grabbing your phone and bag you ran downstairs to grab a snack before leaving. Surprisingly the house seemed strangely quiet for an early morning. A few of the boys slept in during the mornings, somehow managing to sleep though the heavy noise, but majority would be up and about by now.

You sneaked a peak into the living room while grabbing an apple from the fridge, seeing the absence of people. You grabbed your usual set of keys from the row of hooks at the entrance to the garage, noticing most of the car keys were missing but too late to think deeply into it. You ran over to your favourite car within the garage and threw your backpack onto the passenger seat beside you before starting the engine and driving as fast as you could to your class.

Arriving 5minutes after the lecture started, you sneak in through the back door hoping no one would notice you. Obviously with your luck, the class happened to be completely silent when you entered and the sound of the door creaking open caught everyone’s attention. You mumbled a small apology to the lecturer who didn’t bother to acknowledge your presence and continued with his talk. You settle into your seat and pull out your laptop and begin typing away as he talks.

Almost halfway through your lecture your phone buzzes. You ignore the initial vibration felt from the phone on your desk, too immersed in typing as your lecturer continues talking without bothering to slow down. However, as soon as the continuous texts popped through, the students around you were starting to give you looks and you had no choice but to answer to your phone. You glance at the screen noticing the texts from Jaehyun.

Jaehyun: Where are you?

Jaehyun: Y/N?

Jaehyun: Y/N? Answer me.

Y/N: In a lecture, something up?

You see the three little dots typing through the screen for a minute, then disappearing, and then reappearing.

Jaehyun: No, have fun and stay safe.

Not bothering with it too much, you placed your phone in your bag this time, and tried to catch up to what the lecturer was explaining. When the digital clock above the board showed 10am, the lecturer began piling up his paperwork, and dismissed the class.

Normally you’d find the Dream group who would be roaming around the campus around the same time as you had your lunch break. The 2000s line were first year students due to their part time commitment as students. They balanced life at home with training and missions while also completing a normal life – forced upon by Taeyong. You made your way over to the tables under the shaded trees and pulled out your phone to pass time. It was almost 10:30 when you realised there was still no one here.

You pull up the group chat you had for the bunch of you who attended college; Renjun, Haechan, Jeno, Jaemin and you.

Y/N: Did you guys all ditch today?

Haechan: We got held back at home

Y/N: You’re at home?

Haechan: Yeah

Y/N: It was so quiet this morning though, I thought no one was home.

Haechan: Big meeting today

Y/N: Guess I’m spending lunch alone

Jaemin: Go make some new friends

Jaemin: Girl-friends only

Y/N: :(

You hum to yourself, putting in your earphones and grabbing your drawing pad along with a pen. The time passes rather quickly as you sketch out the trees in your view, the figures of people passing by, the group of friends gathered on the lawn. The music abruptly stops and you look at your phone, confused at the interruption. You notice the call coming through and pull out your earphones to place the phone against your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey can you come to the car?”

“My car?” You ask, confused.

“Yeah, I’m at your car.”

“Okay, give me a few minutes.” You tell him, hanging up to gather all your belongings.

You notice the familiar car parked next to your own car and your face crinkles up confused at the unannounced visit from Lucas coming to your campus. Lucas stands leaning against the bumper of his car, staring at his phone not seeing you approach him.

“Hey what are you doing here?” You ask,

“I’m picking you up.” He simply states, putting his phone in his pocket and taking your laptop and textbooks from your grasp.

“I drove though.” You tell him.

“I know, one of the guys will get your car,” he says, motioning to the passenger side of his car for you to get in as he places your stuff in the back seat and opens the door on the driver’s side for himself.

“What’s going on?” You ask, closing the door before your fighting with your seatbelt strap to pull over your shoulder.

“We’re going on a vacation.” Lucas replies, leaning over to help you with your seatbelt. You lean back against your seat as he fumbles with it for a second and then buckles you in.

“Thanks, and I don’t know if you’ve realised but I still have lectures to attend tomorrow.” You tell him.

“Jaehyun handled them already.” He tells you.

“What do you mean?” You ask, starting to get concerned with the sudden situation. “Lucas what’s going on?” you ask again.

“Call Jaehyun, it’s better he tells you,” Lucas says, letting out a sigh as he pushes the gear stick into drive. You pull out your phone and dial his number, being sent straight into voicemail. You try again while Lucas watches, waiting for a response as well.

“He isn’t answering.”

“Try Taeyong.” He tells you. You click onto your speed dial for 1, calling Taeyong immediately. The phone rings for a few seconds and as your about to give up, he answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey princess what’s up?”

“Jaehyun didn’t pick up his phone and what’s with this sudden vacation? I still have classes to attend.”

“I’ve put your application on defer for now.”

“You did what?!” You yell into the phone. Lucas flinches from your sudden raise in voice.

“Sorry I should’ve talked about this with you.” You hear Taeyong sigh through the other end.

“Yeah, obviously. I’m not going on vacation or whatever this crap is Tae, I’m going back to class tomorrow.”

“Y/N things aren’t going very well recently and I need you to get away from everyone so your safe.”

“I don’t care about that, since when did you have a say in my education and what I do?!” You yell, “I’ll move in with a friend if I have to but I’m not leaving.”

“Sorry Y/N but I can’t let you do that, please just go with Lucas for now okay? I’m busy at the moment so I’ll call you back later.” He states, hanging up before anyone has a chance to say more.

Little did you know, the meeting that occurred earlier in the day was to discuss the current situation with enemy plans and events that have recently been going on. The members had been taking turns following you secretly to classes or trying to accompany you wherever you went without you realising it. Taeyong had been receiving threats lately regarding the entire NCT and the safety of the members. When someone sent an anonymous email to him containing images taken of you doing your daily activities outside of the house he decided it was time to separate you from the group.

Much to many of the members disliking of being separated and out of site, you were in danger to be living with them in this current situation. You leaving the city was planned last minute today and was agreed upon by majority in the meeting. Doyoung and Lucas had packed all your essentials within a few minutes before Lucas left to pick you up, leading you to where you were now. Your safety had been left in the hands of Lucas, unfortunately. Not saying that you were on bad terms with Lucas but more of his reliability seemed to be questionable.

Lucas on the other hand was even more miserable than you. The problem of babysitting you while being separated from all the action back home and being stuck inside a hotel would kill him of boredom.

The car ride was mostly silent, Lucas trying to change through the music playing and then being interrupted by phone calls coming through. He connected them to his in ear Bluetooth, trying to avoid you from hearing about the business projects he was dealing with. You rotated between sleeping and scrolling through social media for the car ride. Eventually as night falls, he pulls into a hotel within a small town. The two of you get out the car and he goes in ahead of you, tossing the keys to you while he susses it out.

The front desk lady had placed a pair of keys on the counter bench when you walked in the front door. You could see Lucas was running a hand through his hair – a habit he did when he was frustrated - when you approach him.

“What happened? Did you place a reservation?” You ask Lucas as he dials Jaehyun.

“The guys did, Jaehyun gave me the address for this place.”

“What’s the problem then?” You question, confused.

“Why did you book only one room and there’s only one bed?” Lucas complains into the phone. As soon as Lucas mentions one room you go blank. Sharing a bed wasn’t an issue for either of you, considering you’d had frequent movie nights with him which you ended up sleeping there instead of returning to your room. The problem is his sleeping habits. They want me to share a room with this loudass? How am I meant to sleep through his snoring? Your head was running through a billion problems and you were bought back into reality just as Lucas was about to hang up.

“Jaehyun what is this?” You ask, motioning for the phone from Lucas.

“Hey baby how are you?”

“Great. A little frustrated but you know, nothing new.” You tell him sarcastically.

“Yeah I know, sorry everything was too sudden for you.”

You sigh into the phone, knowing that you shouldn’t be taking your feelings out on him, “Yeah.”

“It’ll be over soon,” He says, comforting you through the phone.

“Okay,” you mumble, “Lucas and I are checking in now, be careful okay?”

“Yeah you too.” He replies, just as you end the call and hand the phone back to Lucas.

Lucas takes the keys on the counter and the two of you head back to the car to bring your belongings up. The room was simple. A large king sized bed and a TV in its direct line of sight. The bathroom connected near the entrance in a separate area and a little study desk and lamp. A little couch at the far end near the curtains covering the sight of a balcony.

“I’m going to shower first.” You tell him, searching for your pyjamas.

“Don’t be so slow, I’m tired.” He complains.

“Says the boy who spends 20minutes in there.” You shoot him a glare and he smiles at you blinking his eyes with innocence. “Also who packed my suitcase, where’s my pjs?”

“Doyoung and I did, don’t know if we packed pjs though..” he trails off. He pushes himself up from the couch and flips through his bag. He pulls out a plain white shirt and throws it across the room to you, “Wear this.”

“Is it clean?” You ask, holding it with the tips of your fingers. His hygiene routine isn’t classified as one of the best within the group and you feared he had given you a sweaty one.

“Obviously.” You give him a suspicious look and gather your night time things, heading into the bathroom. You strip down and step slowly into the tub, turning the water on high and letting it beat over your head as the steam begins to fog up the mirror. Closing your eyes, the heat of the water soaks into your skin and you lean against the cool tiles, exhausted at the day of events.

After you’ve washed shampoo and conditioner through your hair, you turn the tap off, squeezing out the water with your hands into the tub before stepping out. The towel hangs from the door hook and your easily able to grab it without getting the floor wet. You quickly dry yourself off and chuck on a bra, undies and Lucas’ white shirt. You wrap the towel around your hair as you step out and the temperature difference of the rooms immediately causes you to shiver.

“You can go now.” You tell Lucas, jumping straight under the covers of the bed. He hums in response, throwing you the TV remote while he disappears. You lean up against the bed board and flick through the channels, finally deciding to just turn it off instead when nothing seems interesting just as your phone beeps.

Johnny: Hey Princess are you still awake?

Y/N: Yeah, how is everyone?

Johnny: Everyone’s okay, there’s a training session going on at the moment so they’re all a bit busy

Y/N: Ahh okay.

Your debating whether you should ask about Taeyong, regretting yelling at him earlier and knowing he was only trying to keep you safe.

Y/N: Is Taeyong mad at me?

Johnny: He’s not mad, just a little stressed is all.

Johnny: Don’t worry about it.

Y/N: Okay

Johnny: Go to sleep now, it’s getting late, you and Lucas still have to keep driving tomorrow.

Y/N: I will, goodnight.

Johnny: Night <3.

Just as you shut your bedside light, Lucas walks out the bathroom shirtless, ruffling his hair with the towel and eyes glued to his phone.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch?” He asks, glancing over at you.

“Me?” You question.

“Well I’m too tall to fit and besides, I’ve been driving all day and I’ll be driving all day tomorrow.” He states, pulling the sheets down on the other side.

“Do you know how many bedbugs are on that couch?” You ask before answering it yourself, “too many.”

“Just don’t kick me throughout the night like last time.” He warns you, flipping over to his side.

“Wow you’re so terrifying.” You mumble, crawling more towards your side of the bed. “Don’t snore like your Santa Claus okay?” You remind him.

Lucas obviously ignored your warning as he snores throughout the night. You let out a groan as you sit up and push him over, tossing him more towards his side of the bed. He stops snoring momentarily and then it starts again after a few minutes of peaceful silence. Are you kidding me. You do your best to just ignore him and fold the pillow against your ear, making the sound as quiet as possible. Your phone rings just as you feel like you’re finally falling into sleep and you cry in frustration, rolling over to reach it and pick up, not looking at the caller ID.

“Hey baby, how have you been?” The deeper voice asks.

“Sorry, do I know you?” You mumble, still asleep in your state.

“Ouch, that hurts, how could you say that to your lover.”

You open your eyes, squinting at the light of the unknown number on your phone screen. “Sorry I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

“Do I really? I swear this was the number for Miss Y/N, the beautiful lady who happens to be living with one of the desired Mafia gangs.” You stayed silent through the phone, immediately sitting up, obviously this guy knew who you were and your relation to the boys. You glance at Lucas whose still asleep and your feet search for your slippers. Quietly you tip toe out to the hallway, leaving a gap in the door behind you. “If I’ve still got the wrong number feel free to hang up, I’ll continue chatting with the so notorious leader who happens to be knocked unconscious.”

“WAIT!” You whisper into the phone,

“Hm?”

“Wh-what do you want?” You hesitatingly ask.

“That’s what I thought.” He laughs. “Now I know you aren’t alone baby, so is anyone listening to us?”

“No.”

“Good girl.” He hums before continuing “I want you to come home.”

“What?”

“Come home, alone.” He says, “and remember to keep this a secret, or it might be bad for the present I have for you. I’ll be waiting.”

[cloudywriter]

vanilla pudding cups - 3

~~~

A/N: so sorry it has been a little bit, i just have been so busy with school. also sorry about the minimal feysand interaction in this chapter too but i’m trying to build the relationship ya know? anyway, enjoy! also leave comments too, i love feedback!

masterlist + AO3

~~~

Feyre hadn’t talked to Rhysand since they had met a couple of days ago, but his eyes seem to have taken up a permanent residence in her mind. That much was evident by the sheer number of various shades of blue and even violet colored pencils that were surrounding her on the beanbag in the corner of her room. She could never get the combination of colors to look quite right though, she itched to go and make him sit down for her just so she could study the colors that make up his eyes. 

Luckily, the sane part of her mind that kept reminding her just how creepy swatching the colors of a stranger’s eyes was held her back from doing such a thing. But no matter how much she reprimanded herself in her mind, her infatuation with him didn’t cease. There was just such a depth to him that reeled her in. 

Okay, maybe it also had to do with the fact he was absolutely beautiful. He was the kind of guy she could see in the grocery store who’s too gorgeous to approach but would definitely mourn the thought of probably never seeing again in her life once she left.

She had hoped to attempt to talk to him, to get a better feel for him, but had yet to find the right time. Alis had refused to tell her much about him, only saying that his cancer had relapsed and that was why he was here in the ward. Her heart fell when Alis told her that. Feyre knew that pain and wanted him to know she understood, that he wasn’t alone. But it was also the fact that she knew his pain that kept her from reaching out. He needed time to process without her bothering him, he needed his space to breathe and come to terms with it so Feyre made sure to maintain her distance for the time being. Maybe he’d even come to her.

She smiled at the thought. 

---

Rhys woke up to the fluff of a pillow hitting him in the face repeatedly, he opened his eyes immediately, a little dazed, a little panicked; standing over him was just his ass of a friend, Cassian.

Cassian peered down at him with his signature shit-eating grin, his hair pulled back in a messy bun of sorts.

“Wakey, wakey, sleeping beauty,” he basically sang.

“It’s like fucking 6am, what are you doing?” Rhys rolled his eyes.

“We are getting your sorry ass out of bed and down to Rita’s for some breakfast,’’ he responded.

“At 6am?”

“Gotta get it while it’s hot,” Cassian claimed as he turned around and started picking through clothes in Rhysand’s bags that he had yet to put away. “Mor, Az, and Amren are down waiting in the car. The nurse lady only let one of us come get you because it’s technically not visiting hours.”

“Right and it seemed appropriate to send the loudest one they could?”

“Don’t act like you’d rather wake up to anything besides my face,” Cass batted his eyelashes for emphasis. 

For some odd reason Feyre’s face flashed through his mind. 

He would be lying if he said he hadn’t at least thought about her, the image of her atop that ladder radiating ethereal beauty never entirely left his head. He was even a little disappointed when that streak of charcoal dissipated.

Cassian throwing a pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt interrupted his mini pining session. “Come on, get dressed. I’ll be in the hall.”

Rhysand huffed as he departed from his warm cocoon.

---

Rhys, Mor, Cassian, Azriel, and Amren sat outside on the trails with their takeout breakfast tacos from Rita’s wrappers scattered around them on the benches. 

“Okay, seriously, why did you make us wake up at 5:30am for Rita’s breakfast just for us to get takeout?” Amren questioned Cassian.

“Just eat your taco. I asked them to put extra children’s tears in it just for you, little one.”

“Call me little one again and I’ll nail your balls to that tree, you brute.”

The way Cassian cautiously crossed his legs escaped no one’s notice. 

The group had mostly returned to their normal dynamic, Cass being loud and making jokes, Mor giggling, offering her own sarcastic retorts, Rhys mostly laughing, watching, and adding to the conversation at times. Azriel continued his usual observing, letting out small smiles occasionally while Amren went back and forth between scowling and telling off Cassian. 

At the moment, Mor and Cassian were arguing over who got to eat the last taco, “Mor I am literally three of you put together.”

“And? A girl’s gotta eat.”

Cassian and Mor continued their pointless bickering, each swiping the taco out of the other’s hand and chasing each other around the benches. Rhys’s stomach hurt from laughing at their antics. He was feeling good again.

He found himself looking back up at the hospital towering over the little park, maybe to ground himself, it served as a reminder that this isn’t his whole reality anymore. He is still sick and one day Mor and Cassian will be running after each other without him around to watch. 

Mor’s breathless giggles and Cassian’s obnoxious shouting faded into the background as he began to get sucked back into that blackhole that had started growing again when he heard his most recent prognosis. It wasn’t an unfamiliar blackhole, he knew it well, but it had become so miniscule as his life returned to what it should be. But even in space it’s hard to make blackholes truly disappear. 

That’s when Rhys noticed her. A flash of golden-brown hair reflecting the fresh morning sun’s rays. She was sitting on a light wooden stool in front of an easel, her position pivoted at an angle to face out the window. He could make out the back of a white canvas sitting on the easel and a paint palette balanced in one of her hands. At such a distance he couldn’t make out her face fully, but he just knew it was her in his heart. He could almost imagine her face, her nose scrunched up in concentration as it was in those brief moments he saw her focused on hanging up sketches. 

Maybe she even had a paint stain on her cheek. 

Once again, she brought him back as he began to sink. 

Rhys wasn’t even sure how long he just stared at her, observing her in her own little world, wholly focused on the painting in front of her. She would swipe her brush around and then pull back, studying what she had done before going back in. He might’ve been content just watching her for hours.

“WHAT THE FUCK, CASS!”

Rhys’s attention was drawn behind him to Cassian frantically shoving a whole taco in his mouth while Mor fumed behind the bench parallel to Cass. 

“You’re such an ass, Cass. You’re an asshat, that's what you are. Asshat Cass.”

Amren raised her brows at that. “Asshat Cass does have a nice ring to it,” she observed, picking at her nails feigning disinterest. Mor just huffed and crossed her arms, but never broke the skank eye she gave Cass who only smirked in return. 

“Oh, I’ll get you for that one, Mor,” Cass grumbled, his mouth full of taco.

Rhys allowed himself one more glance at the girl in the window. This time though, he could’ve sworn she was looking back. 

“How about Mor the bore? Snory Mory?” He suggested. 

Rhys gave a little smile just in case, perhaps, she was actually staring right back. 

“Wait, I know, Mor the whore!” Cassian exclaimed with a dramatic hand gesture. 

No one even noticed Rhys’s utterly distracted state, entrapped by the angel in the window. 

~~~

mini taglist: @awkward-avocado-s & @booksofthemoon

[padfootagain]

Girl Crush (XVII)

Chapter 17 : Before The Water Lilies

Here we go again for a new chapter!!! We stay in the very cute Christmas spirit in London for these two idiots pinning for each other like crazy... Warning for extreme fluffiness, side effects might include a lot of 'awwww' and some hearts melting, you've been warned!!!

I hope you like this chapter, tell me what you thought about it!

Word Count: 2603

Trafalgar Square exceeded your expectations.

There was someone dressed as Pikachu dancing to Staying Alive in front of the majestic National Gallery, people hurried to avoid the sharp cold moving around the tall column and the fountain. Many tourists took pictures in front of the black statues of lions. A little crowd had gathered around a man playing guitar. Traffic was loud and dense, red buses and dark cabs and random cars driving around the square and passing under the Admiralty Arch. A woman was drawing mountains on the pavement with chalks.

Your eyes glimmered with joy and awe and excitement, and Harry was grinning from ear to ear at the sight.

You were going to the National Gallery that morning, and you couldn't wait.

The sky was grey and seemed low above your heads, sign of imminent snow or rain. But a moody weather was far from enough to stop you from exploring the city.

"Are you ready?" Harry asked, guiding you across the square and towards the large museum.

You nodded, clapping your hands together in excitement, jumping a couple of times instead of walking, making him laugh.

"They have some of Monet's water lilies, you know?"

"I know. I've been there before."

"And some De Vinci…"

"They do."

"And Van Gogh!"

"Indeed."

"And Turner, and Cézanne!"

"Are we attempting to name all of the painters that have their paintings exposed in there or…?"

You swatted his arm playfully, rolling your eyes.

"Sorry, I'm just rambling," you mumbled, but he nudged you, making you look up at him.

"I was just teasing you. I like it when you ramble."

"You like it?"

"Yeah, it's cute."

"Cute?"

He shrugged, suddenly realizing the meaning of the words he was speaking out loud, and he thanked the cold for giving him a perfect excuse for his flushed cheeks.

"I mean… yeah…" he stuttered. "Come on, hurry up! I'm freezing out here, and I need a wee!"

You laughed at him, but let him escape for this time around, and hurried with him to seek shelter from the winter wind that seemed to be cutting through your cheekbones.

The entrance was set in a more modern hall that the famous columns overhanging the square, with a wall made of glass and a large boutique to buy souvenirs. You studied the map of the museum while waiting for Harry as he went to the bathroom, and when he came back, you had a plan for the visit, to which Harry didn't complain. As long as it kept this grin on your face, he was up for anything.

The halls themselves were as majestic as you could have imagined, large stairs of stone and pillars and high ceilings and cracking wooden floors. You made your way through the halls, travelling through time from De Vinci's and Michelangelo's sketches to the grave figures pictured on Flemish paintings to the stormy oceans painted by Turner and the weird shapes of Picasso's works.

Every hall offered surprises, little gems that you liked more than the rest. You walked with Harry never leaving your side, whispering to each other either to make stupid jokes and shushed giggles, or to comment on the paintings you admired.

You walked around and spend time revisiting your favourite paintings, and you settled on a bench in front of your absolute favourite: Monet's water lilies.

Harry was resting his head on your shoulder while you both stared at the paintings, studying the touches of paint and movements of the brush that seemed to have scared the colours across the canvas. People passed around you, sometimes blocking the view, but you didn't care. There was something peaceful in sitting in the art gallery, surrounded by these paintings that had taken so many hours to make, for sure; in the rhythm of the crowd moving all around you and the shushed voices speaking in many languages, most of them that you couldn’t understand and sometimes not even recognize. Life felt slower in there. People's movements were not rushed, they took only little steps to move through the room, stopping before each painting, taking pictures of their favourites.

And Monet's painting in itself was soothing as well. Green and blue and touches of white and pink and purple to paint the bridge crossing the little river covered with waterlilies, their tiny white shapes lost in their large leaves. It felt like you were there, almost. It felt peaceful, tender. A little haven in your busy and fast life. Crazy how the painting of a place you had never visited could echo through your chest, make your heart slow down, shush your thoughts, make your limb a little numb and your lips curve into a smile as you studied its beauty.

And there was also the fact that Harry was by your side. You had taken off some of your warm clothes and opened your coats. He held both your scarves in his hands, resting on his laps. His brown curls tickled your neck, his head heavy on your shoulder, the pressure reassuring, a welcomed weight to carry as if it had felt empty without it, as if his head was meant to rest there, fitting perfectly into the shape of your shoulder and neck. Your knee rested lightly against his bruised one, after the fall of the previous night while ice skating. Your two arms were pressed together, and you had to admit that you were eager for the contact, welcoming every new inch of his body touching yours. It felt reassuring, natural. Almost meant to be. You felt safe with him so close to you.

"Did you know that when Monet grew older, he couldn't see well anymore," you let out in a whisper. "He was sick, and he couldn't see clearly shapes and all the shades of blue and green."

"Really?" he asked, lifting his head just a little to tell you he was listening, but not enough to disconnect your two bodies in any way.

"Yeah. I don't remember the name of the disease but… he spent years and years and years going back to that same spot to paint this bridge. And as his vision deteriorated and yet he kept on painting, the shapes became less and less clear in his paintings, and all the shades of blue and green he painted red or purple instead."

"I didn't know that. It must be terrible though… You've spent your whole life painting, and then you get sick, and your vision falters. And you can't do the only thing you're good at anymore. What can you do then, if you can't do the only thing you have talent for?"

His voice grew quieter as he went on, and you wondered if he was still talking about Monet when he was done.

You shrugged.

"You find other things to live for. You find another purpose. You still have everything else: your family, your friends, the people who love you, other hobbies and places you've never explored to go to. You still have sunrises upon frozen rooftops and strawberry ice creams in June and ducks to feed at the park. So I guess… even if it's hard, you just keep on going, only, you bend your own path to fit your new life instead."

He slowly nodded, and the worry that had made him frown seemed to have melted and turned into a soft smile.

And perhaps it was because he was so relaxed looking at these paintings, or perhaps it was because all he could smell was your perfume to a point where he forgot any other scent he had ever breathed in, or maybe it was because of how his head rose and fell just the tiniest bit every time you breathed, or maybe it was because of how close the two of you were in general and he was too tired to stop it from blurring his mind… he wasn't sure why, but before he could think them, he had uttered words he might have wanted to keep for himself. Sometimes, the most earnest words were the hardest to keep quiet though.

"I hope you'll still be there when I'm old and can't sing anymore."

You rested your cheek on the top of his head, slowly nodding.

"I'll always be here, Harry. Don't you know that by now?"

He smiled, just like you did.

"You know what? I think I do."

You were sitting on a bench watching ducks paddle off down the pond.

It was cold, and the clouds were still white above your heads, and the more time passed, the more you were certain that they were about to break.

Saint James's Park was a cute little park. With trees and patches of grass and ponds and ducks, even though at this time of the year most trees had lost their foliage, and most flowers were still unborn. The grass wore white glitter made by the frost under the shade of bushes and trees, hidden places that the sun couldn't reach to make the ice melt. You watched a few sparrows flying around while you rubbed your bare hands together, punishment for forgetting your gloves at Harry's. And you felt sorry for the little birds, they must have been so cold without shelter…

"If I were a bird, I think I would like to be a swallow," you blurted out, making Harry turn his attention to you again instead of the ducks in the brownish water.

"Hmm?"

He had taken off his beanie, and the tip of his ears were made crimson by the biting cold. The tip of his nose had the same shade too, and you found him absolutely adorable this way.

"I mean, it's nice!" you went on in a dreamy tone. "You leave for the South when it becomes too cold around here, and then you come back when it's warm and sunny again. Plus, your return means that spring is coming, you carry lovely meanings in your flight."

Harry's lips curved in a tender smile, and he slowly nodded.

"You're right, it's nice."

"What bird would you like to be?"

"I don't want to be a bird," he shook his head, a playful glint alit in his eyes. "I'd rather be a fish."

"A fish?"

"You have the entire ocean as a playground, so many adventures ahead. Wouldn’t that be nice?"

You laughed, but nodded anyway.

"It would be nice indeed."

"So you can be a swallow, and I'll be a fish."

"What kind of fish?"

He shrugged.

"The kind that lives near swallows."

You couldn't refrain a barely noticeable gasp, before smiling at him in the softest of ways.

"Well then, let's do that for our next lives then. Harry the fish and Y/N the swallow."

"Sounds good to me."

Harry noticed how your kept on rubbing your palms together and moving your fingers, blowing puffs of air against them to warm your skin. He remembered then that you had forgotten your gloves at his place that morning.

So he took his own pair off, and took your hands one by one, putting his large gloves on you.

They were so warm after he had worn them for some time, it was reassuring, and your painful skin almost instantly felt like it was burning instead of freezing.

"You're gonna be cold," you protested, although you didn't stop him from taking your other hand in his, his long fingers oozing warmth through your skin. He wasn't wearing any of his rings today and his skin was gentle and soft against yours, just like his movements.

"We can share. For now, you're the one who's freezing. Better warm your hands up before your fingers start falling off."

"Ha ha ha! Very funny!" you crinkled your nose and rolled your eyes, making him laugh.

Harry was about to tease you some more when he was interrupted by the sensation of something tiny yet very cold touching the bridge of his nose. He squinted quite ungracefully, trying to see what had touched him, before rising his bare fingers to his face. His skin was a little wet.

But then he spotted a white snowflake caught on your scarf, just as your eyes grew wider as you realized what was happening.

"Harry! It's snowing!" you gasped, a grin splitting your cheeks and digging cute creases at the corner of your eyes.

You looked up at the sky with eyes glimmering with excitement while Harry looked at you instead. You were so happy and beautiful…

It was starting to snow harder and harder with each second ticking by, and Harry mindlessly reached for his phone. He barely thought about what he was doing as he captured your picture in this moment: you were laughing, your arms and hands extended before you to catch the snowflakes. You examined the crystals with a curiosity and joy that could have belonged to a child. And it made his heart feel warm and big and growing even more as if it were filled with sunshine and couldn't keep the light in…

As he checked the picture again, he reckoned that he had found his new lockscreen.

You giggled in the most adorable way as a couple of snowflakes made their way between your scarf and your collar, making you shiver as they landed at the base of your neck.

"Ha! It's cold!" you squealed between your giggles, making Harry burst out in laughter.

"Do you think it'll snow enough to cover the ground?" you asked him, but your friend could only shrug.

"I don't know. It wasn't even supposed to snow today."

"Well, they got it wrong."

"It's nice that they were wrong on that one though, don't you think?"

You nodded.

"Yeah, it's nice."

Harry grew quiet again, grinning and turning his face to the sky to feel the frozen droplets against his skin, closing his eyes and reaching to hold the sleeve of your warm coat, as if to make sure that you would stay close even if he wasn't looking. As if he were afraid you weren't truly here, and that if he let his eyelids fall, you would disappear in thin air or be carried away with the snowflakes. But you had no intention to go anywhere.

You watched him as he threw his head back, face towards the sky, enjoying the stinging cold of the snowflakes delicately fall onto his cheeks. His hair was already stained with snow, white dots caught in the mess of his brown curls, and a few of the ice crystals had been caught on his eyelashes as well. He didn't seem to mind though. He was smiling, beaming even. Your heart seemed to be growing in size, and your whole body felt relaxed and warm. A smile formed on your lips, tender and gentle, and there was no way for you to refrain it. You wished you could run your fingers through his hair and keep them there just like these snowflakes hanging at his curls.

You noticed every detail of his face, every crack at the corner of his eyes that came with smiling, how his dimples grew deeper, every tiny mark on his skin, and every barely noticeable freckle, and the tiny crack on his lips caused by the cold…

It was overwhelming, sometimes, the situation you were in.

And you wondered then if you would ever feel that way with Gareth too, because deep down you knew that one day, you would have to. Perhaps it was time to try harder to do so…

*******************************************

Tag list :   @ponycake27​ @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet@notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky@snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity@i-padfootblack-things  @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy​ @addictedtofictionalcharacters​​ @staringmoony​@madamrogers​​​​​ @cronias13​​​​​ @stylesfics-xx​​​​​ @mellamolayla​​ @mariaenchanted​

[scornedlove]

Chapter Thirty

ROBYN

It’s amazing what good sex can do. When we left the mall, Rocky took me to his duck off spot at Manhattan beach, where we set some rules to our situation. No questions, no venting, and no expectations. We promised to keep emotions out and orgasms in. If either of us broke any of the agreements, that would be the end of our rendezvous.

After we both had a clear understanding, he got to work like his life depended on it. He took me to heights I’ve been desperately needing right there on the sand and in the back of his car. I rode him so good, I woke up the next morning sore as hell with a little pep in my step. 

What I didn’t expect, was Dre’s face to be the first one I saw when I arrived at the boutique. There was an all black Chevy Impala parked in the very last space, with some guy watching him. Guess he found a new driver. He kept glancing in all directions as if he was Dre’s bodyguard. All I could do was roll my eyes when I noticed Dre. He was holding a box of muffins and some flowers looking like somebody killed his dog.

I took my time getting out the cab, then slowly approached him with no-nonsense on my face. There wasn’t enough orgasms in the world to make me forget about him calling me an addict. When I got in front of him, I paused, waiting for him to speak first.

“I hate when you’re mad at me” he admitted, holding out the gifts.

“Is that what you think of me? An addict?” I quizzed, ignoring his offerings. 

“See, I knew you took what I was saying the wrong way. You know I don’t think you’re an addict, but you do need help. Which is why this is the last time I’m giving you these” he stated, pulling a pill bottle out of his pocket. It must’ve been evident that I didn’t want to take them from him, because he urged, holding them out for me to grab.

“I don’t want anything from you. Matter of fact, forget I even exist” I frowned, turning my back on him to unlock the door. I was early this morning for a reason and he was cutting into my time.

“Anna you gotta stop pushing the people who care about you away. I talked to John this morning and he told me-”

“Oh please, because YOU care about me right? Go care about those stupid tramps you got prancing around in them tight ass clothes at your clinic.” I bumped him out of my way, knocking the pill bottle from his hand as I entered the building.

I locked the door and peeped out the window as he scrambled to find the bottle without dropping everything else he was holding. The scowl on his face as he mumbled to himself when he picked it up, showed he was done trying. 

I hadn’t noticed before, but John was parked across the street waiting for him. He jogged over to the car without looking back, clearly cursing my name. 

“Bet his ass won’t come back now” I shook my head, thinking out loud.

“Damn it’s been forever since I’ve seen you!” Meagan’s animated voice scared the crap out of me.

“SHIT” I yelled, clutching my chest.

“Sorry, I ain’t mean to scare you” she giggled, coming from around the front counter. 

“What you doing here so early? I didn’t see your car out there.” I snapped, glancing around the store. 

“Oh, my mom needed to borrow my car, so I got dropped off today.” she explained as if this was the norm. Jenn, Frankie, and I were gonna have to have a talk. I gave them a key, so how did Meagan end up with a copy?

“So who’s that guy waiting out front?”

“What guy?”

“There was some guy” I explained, as I went to see if he was still there. He was gone and now I was starting to wonder if I was just overthinking. “Nevermind....you know we don’t open for another hour and a half right?”

“Yeah, I know. It was either be early or be late. So, here I am” she shrugged, walking over to the window to see what I was looking at. “Is that Dre”?

“I’ll be in my office if you need me” I yawned, ignoring her question as I jogged up the stairs.

It felt good being back in my workspace. I didn’t realize how much I missed being here. I started to notice that every time I’m in a low place, I avoid the things that really make me happy. Just then, an idea came to mind. It had been awhile since I’ve been inspired, so I wasted no time pulling out my pad letting my hand flow as I began to sketch. 

When I finished a couple of designs and going over the numbers for the past few weeks, I smoked a blunt, made some coffee, and promised myself today would be great before I went downstairs to join my crew. 

“Bitch, you don’t need no more vacations!” Frankie exclaimed, as Jenn finished counting the day’s deposit. While she did that, Frankie and I were reviewing the reports for the past quarter. For some reason, every time I was here in the shop compared to my vacation days, sales were up by thirty percent. I wasn’t complaining, but it did seem strange. 

“It makes sense if you ask me.” Meagan piped in. “Customer’s appreciate when you actually show up for them”

“Girl you still here?” I quizzed sarcastically. She was sticking her nose in places she had no business and it was starting to piss me off. “I appreciate your hard work. Enjoy the rest of your night and go get some rest. You’re off tomorrow so I’ll see you Thursday!”

“She’s off Thursday too!” Frankie corrected with a nod.

“Oh, well see you Friday” I grinned with a wave. She stood there lost for a moment, then finally agreed that she was tired as she grabbed her things and headed towards the door.

“Which one of ya’ll gave that heffa a key to my shop?” I asked crossing my arms over my chest as I glared from Jenn to Frankie.

“Not me” Frankie threw his hands up in defense. 

“What makes you think she has a key?” Jenn quizzed, unamused.

“She was the first one here today. I don’t trust her and I don’t appreciate my key being copied. I’m changing the locks.”

“I think your exaggerating” Jenn shook her head in disbelief.

“Well I think I’ll be the only one with a key since nobody knows how a copy just magically appeared.” I shrugged, leaving it at that. We finished closing the store in silence, but I could still feel Jenn’s attitude. I didn’t let it get to me though. I just rolled me another blunt and smoked until my cab showed up.

Minus the stench on his breath, the driver was a nice guy. He was a college kid trying to scrape up every dollar he could with every minute he had. I remembered those days. I invited him to have dinner with me when we pulled up to Gorgio Baldi, but he declined, which meant I’d be dining alone. Usually, I wouldn’t mind, but the last time I was here was with Chris. I hate that I let him meet me here, because now it will never be the same.

The same place that usually felt warm and cozy, was now big and cold. As I waited for my food, I had an eerie feeling that I was being watched. I looked around the room and noticed how busy it was. There were a few couples, a couple of families, and a group of girlfriends having dinner together. I wasn’t the only loner though. There was a guy, a couple of tables away, with his face in a book while he waited on his food. He was comfortable in his lonesome, but I was not. I couldn’t shake the feeling of embarrassment as the memories of the last time I was here, flooded my mind. 

When the waiter came back with my food, I took it to go. I decided if I wanted to enjoy my food in peace, I’d better stop and get Ollie and Pepe’s food as well. When I entered the grocery store, I was immediately irritated by how long all the checkout lines were. I wanted nothing to do with the chaos going on, so I grabbed some dog food and called it a day. 

As I weaved through the crowds, towards one of the long ass check out lines, I noticed a cashier opening a new lane, so I quickened my pace. I was almost there when, out of nowhere, a guy walked right in my path, causing me to smash my cart into his side.

“Fuck!” he yelled out in pain, scaring me half to death.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you! Are you okay?” I panicked, rushing around the basket to pick up one of the 2-liter cokes he’d dropped.

“I’m good” he winced, massaging his hip.

“You may wan grab another” I suggested, handing it back to him.

“You may wan watch where you’re going, you could’ve fucked my shit up.” he mimicked disrespectfully.

“Scuse me?” I paused, stepping back with a scowl. Who was he coming at sideways when he’s the one that ran into my basket? I fixed my lips to tear him down, but my voice caught in my throat.

“Oh shit! I was hoping I’d run into you again, just not literally, we forgot to exchange numbers.” Rocky lightened up, after recognizing me. I went from wanting to slap him, to wanting to jump his bones, and back to that strange feeling in the back of my gut. How the hell do I keep running into him?

“You following me?” I stared him down, trying to read him. I had to know, this was one too many coincidences. 

“How can I be following you when I’m on my way out?” He asked, waving his receipt.  “I was just picking up a few things for my little sister’s party ”

“Well, uh have fun.” I stammered, before rushing towards the checkout lane. Something about running into him two days in a row made me feel a little uneasy. He knows where I live, which means it’s possible he followed me. 

I didn’t see him or his car in the parking lot when I left the store, but I was more alert the entire ride home. By the time I made it home I convinced myself he lived nearby. That’s the only thing that made sense, so I said a quick prayer and brushed it off.

The next few days, I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder. I even went as far as having cameras installed at home. When you live alone, there’s no such thing as being too careful, so I updated my security system too. When everything was finished, I was impressed to say the least. I had everything connected to my phone, plus a couple of panic buttons around the house, in case I ever get caught slipping.

“This shit is dope” Mel exclaimed, as I explained the new system to her. “I just got one question. What’s going on?”

“What you mean?”

“Why did you get all this? Has Chris been threatening you?”

“What? Please! Not everything is about him. I just want to feel safe, that is all”

“You sure you’re not keeping anything from me?”

“I’m sure bitch! Now hurry up and roll up so we can get this movie started” I demanded, changing the subject. 

“Movie? Un-un! You still gotta pack your shit, we leave for Bim tomorrow.”

“Our flight ain’t til 11! I was gonna do it in the morning, you wanna help me?”

“Hell naw! You know how your ass is! It’s gon’ take you forever to pick out 3 days worth of clothes and I’m starving. I’m finna raid your fridge.” 

“Well, how ‘bout you pick my clothes and I fix dinner.” I bargained with a brow raise. 

“Ooooh, deal. I’ll take jerk chicken.” she jumped up a little too happily. “Besides, It’s been a minute since I raided your closet!”

“I betta not find nothing missing!” I called over my shoulder on my way to the kitchen.

CHRIS

"You can’t hold me!" Trey taunted, with his usual trash talk as the shot clock reached zero. We were at his crib playing 2K while Lala and Danni were cooking food, preparing for tomorrow. They were hosting Thanksgiving this year, so the house was smelling marvelous.

“Shut up man! You definitely got lucky” I shook my head in shame.

“Yeah okay, I beat yo ass bro. You just gon’ take that L?” he teased, challenging me to another round.

“Imma have to, I gotta get up outta here. I gotta be at the airport by 7am.” I explained, glancing at my watch. As much as I loved this game, I had other shit on my mind. I needed to figure out how to get Tae to hear me out, and what better way then through her best friend?

“Oh, you gotta get to Mama huh? Can’t miss out on that Thanksgiving dinner!”

“Nah, I’m actually gonna pop up on Tae. Maybe meet the fam and all that”

“Oh yeah? Can she cook?”

“You know what, now that you mention it,” I paused in deep thought. I don’t know. I’ve never had her cooking” 

“Well shit, I guess you about to find out! Good luck!” he laughed, cracking himself up. “But in all seriousness, how’s that going?”

“It’s cool” I lied with a shrug. “How’s the married life?”

“Man, if I knew marriage was the key to turn up the freak in Lala,  I would’ve did this shit a long time ago!” he exclaimed, grinning hard as hell.

“Guess that means it’s going good?”

“Nah, this shit is great. With the way we be going at it, she’s definitely gonna be pregnant any day. That’s if she ain’t already!”

“You fucking stupid” I laughed out loud and damn near choked when Lala came from the kitchen, holding a spatula covered in chocolate.

“Taste this” she demanded, as she strutted towards Trey. She had definitely put on a few pounds since I last saw her. Hopefully he was right and they were expecting. Everybody knew how much they wanted kids.

“Ugh, ain’t that cross contamination?” I frowned, shaking my head.

“Shut up, I’m still mad at you for what you did to my friend” Lala glared in my direction. 

“What you do?” Trey quizzed, looking confused. “You just said everything was cool”

“It was just a big misunderstanding” I sighed as I proceeded to explain the situation. 

“So you’re telling me you passed out next to yo horny ex-fuck buddy and ain’t hit?”

“I swear to God bro”

“No wonder she’s pissed. That just sounds like bullshit” Lala frowned, shaking her head. 

“It ain’t bullshit. Yeah, it looked bad, but I promise ya’ll I ain’t stupid enough to go down that road. I gave her some time to cool off, now I gotta go get my girl back”

“You really love her?” she wondered aloud as she cut her eyes at me.

“I do and I miss the shit outta her. Now what do I gotta do to at least get her to hear me out?”

“Chris, if I help you and you hurt my friend, I will personally help her fuck yo life up.”

“You ain’t gotta worry about that” 

“Okay, you got one shot. The only reason I’m even agreeing to help is because I know how she feels about you. She deserves to be happy. So if you ain’t 1000% sure about her then you should just leave things where they are. ”

“Damn he said he ain’t cheat! If my boy can survive that kind of temptation, then he know what he want. Trust me, I’m speaking from experience. ” Trey exclaimed on my behalf.

“He got a point. Now can you call her for me?

“Why you can’t call her?”

“You know she blocked me” I shook my head as she pulled her phone out.

“You wanna talk to her”

“Nah, I just need you to figure out what she got going on tomorrow so I can pop up on her. I know that seeing me face to face will show her how serious I am.”

“Okay, I can do that.” she smiled, as she dialed Tae’s number. She answered on the second ring and they caught up before she got the information I needed. Tae didn’t even think twice as she ran down her plans for tomorrow. I made Lala promise not to give her a heads up so she could be genuinely surprised. Now all I had to do was show up and speak my truth. How hard could that be?

ROBYN

“If the dog don’t trust it, you know something’s up” Mel blurted to the TV.  We were bundled up together on my love seat because my grown ass wanted to cuddle.

“I never understood why people don’t listen to they dogs!” I agreed, as we cracked our beers and clinked them. We were watching the Conjuring, knowing damn well we were gonna have nightmares from it. I didn’t care, I just needed a distraction.

Ever since the beach sex I had with Rocky, my hormones have been raging. That man had a magical tongue and the fact that he could hang for so long was impressive. I had more than a few orgasms when he’d finally gotten his, and I definitely didn’t expect that from a stranger. I didn’t know if he was really that good or if my drought intensified our encounter. Either way, I was still riding the high.

“You gonna answer that?” I asked, shaking Mel’s shoulder when her loud ass ringtone woke up my babies. Evidently, she was exhausted because she didn’t even make it halfway through the movie.

“Mellie” I called out again, but all she did was roll over and snore louder. I figured it was J when the text notification went off, so I grabbed her phone to let him know she had passed out.

I need another round, last night was incredible. 

What are you doing tonight?

Seeing Michael’s new text along  with no previous messages had my mind going straight to the gutter. I just knew this hoe wasn’t cheating on J. I wanted to wake her ass up, but decided against it. There had to be more to the story. I really hoped so.

My nosy ass could’t help it. I had to get more information. I went through her call history and didn’t notice his name once. I was about to dig even deeper when my phone lit up with an alarm notification. I received a text when my alarm noticed movement within 15 feet of my house. The last couple of times it was a squirrel but this time I was glad I checked it anyway. Apparently I had company.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about this unannounced visit, but smiled when a familiar face paused and took a deep breath before knocking at my door. 

“Sorry for popping up on you” Rocky grinned, when I opened the door.

“So you remembered where I live?”

“I couldn’t forget if I wanted to. My sister lives right across the street” he pointed behind him at the party that was going on. "She throws a mean Thanksgiving eve party if you don’t have anything going on.”

“Oh, um”

“I would’ve invited you the other day but you left so quickly I didn’t get your number” he hinted.

“My bad, I was in a hurry. I would go, but my sis is staying with me tonight.”

“The more the merrier. I bet she’d have a good time too”

“We actually have a flight in the morning, so we’re about to call it a night.” 

“Aight, guess I’ll just see you around.” he shrugged, returning to his party. The throbbing between my thighs wanted to invite him in to have our own little party, but my better judgement willed it away. Instead, I went straight to my room, pulled out my little friend, put some fresh batteries in, and went to work.

[solennitawrites]

The Voice in the Silence, Part II

The pandemic has really been getting to me. I’ve been hearing a voice in the silence, and it wants to hurt me.

It’s me again, Emilia. It looks like my first post did go through but...I lost a week. Yes, an entire week.

The last thing I remember is the voice, calling my name in a thundering whisper that drowned out every other sound in the world. It was like...like a pull, like it wanted me to come with it, and I didn't want to but I couldn't resist it. I can't describe the voice in any other way but evil. Except...there was a spark of familiarity in it. Something in the voice felt like I knew it, somehow?

I'm sitting in my car in an empty parking lot right now. It's around 3am and I have no idea how I got here. According to Maps, I'm hours away from my house, from my beach, from my parents. I can't even imagine how scared and, honestly, furious they are at me. I can't bring myself to respond to any of their thousand messages or calls because...what would I even say? Hola mami, papi, sorry for disappearing for a week--I'm fine, just a few hundred miles away and no idea what happened to me in the last week, los quiero!

Yeah, I don't think so...

I don't have any outgoing messages or calls from my phone in the last week, so I don't have any clues or leads on who I might have spoken to. This lot is part of what seems to be a long-abandoned strip mall, and I really can't imagine what I came here for. The only thing somewhat familiar is that I'm near the city my grandparents used to live in. I guess, technically, I lived here too for a time when I was really young. My mom says her parents took me in for a few years when her and my dad were getting the restaurant running, just until things were stable enough for them to be able to properly raise a child. I don't remember this at all, to be honest, and though I always felt really close to my grandparents and attributed this to that time, they were always a bit more reserved with me. Or probably just reserved in general. My family isn't exactly warm.

I can't find anything in my car that might help me figure out what happened--no food wrappers, gas receipts, nothing. Did I even eat? Am I hungry right now? I honestly can't even think about food yet. All I feel is a horrible knot in my stomach and lump in my throat.

Thinking there must be something to go off of on my phone, I check out my camera roll. Okay--okay, here is something. There seems to be a two minute video as my last saved. The thumbnail is black. My phone is already plugged into the car, so I turn the car's volume up and hit play.

...

Nothing. 30 seconds and...still nothing. Just black screen and the vague sound of a car engine. Like the video just shot off while I was driving or something.

Nothing?? It can't be nothing--there has to be something here to tell me what happened. Frustrated, I stop the video. What the hell happened?

I'm wearing the same clothes as I was when I was at the beach a week ago and...okay, yeah. I smell pretty bad. So no shower, cleary, between then and now. I check the pockets of my jeans and my jacket, but there's nothing in any of them. This isn't helping with the panic and I feel myself start to get overheated. Blasting the AC, I take my jacket off and rest my head for a moment on my hands, gripping the steering wheel.

Okay. That is weird. That is actually really fucking terrifying.

My arms. My arms are covered in...in what? **Bruises? They look like dark red splotches with these dark, almost black, striations running through them. As if someone was sketching a picture with pen and then filled it in with a horrible mix of watercolors. And...oh, god...the lines seem to be moving? Like they're trying to make their way up my arms but--I have to be imagining that. That has to be the delirium speaking.

I snap a bunch of photos just in case--I have no idea what this is or where it came from, so I need to be able to see if anything changes. Back in my camera roll, I decide to go back to the video again. Maybe there will be something at the end or something? Anything that will help me recover the lost time.

Black screen...car engine...no change--oh, wait. Wait. Okay, just about past a minute and a half? It seems like the car has stopped. There's movement--the camera is facing out and I can see out the car's windshield that it's nighttime. The camera flashes past the rearview mirror and I catch a glimpse of my face in it.

Oh my god. I pause and zoom in. It's me, definitely me, but it's like there is something else. In my eyes, normally a plain, dark brown, there's like a glint of red in them. Maybe the reflection from a stoplight? That makes sense.

I zoom in more. But there--there in the rearview mirror, behind me. There is definitely something there. Oh god, is that a person? Is that a face? It looks dark, like a shadow, with vague hints of detail hidden by the shitty camera quality. It could be a face but there's something so wrong about it. It reminds me of the voice--evil, but familiar at the same time? I can't make sense of it. I zoom back out and keep playing.

The camera moves past the windshield and I have a better view of the outside--but, weirdly, no traffic light. I'm by a lake or something? It's just a grassy bank and water in front of the car. The camera flips to selfie view and I almost drop my phone in shock.

The red light is still in my eyes, definitely there, and my face looks contorted--as if it's in pain, as if I'm fightingsomething. The camera moves and I see my arms and--oh my god--the shadow thing, person, whatever--it's wrapped around them like a fog. I can sort of see dark lines beneath the fog, running through my arms. Could that be these striations? The camera moves back to my face and I feel the sweat start trickling down the back of my neck. The shadow thing has moved to cover my mouth, and my eyes look terrified. I think I hear me? Maybe? Grunting or something, like an attempt to scream? And then...

Let. Go.

The voice--unmistakably. My face looks even more strained than before in the camera. Camera-me shuts my eyes, tightly, and there's what seems like a skip in the video or something, because then it's just me looking at the camera with my normal eyes and no shadow thing, and the video stops.

I pause on that final frame, zooming in to try and see what was going on. Okay, so my eyes weren't totally normal--there was still a faint red glow, but it looked dimmer. And--I braced myself for this--yep, there was still a shadow just behind me in the corner of the screen, just no longer covering my mouth anymore.

I exit the video and open the car door to throw up. Looks like I haven't been eating...

I have no memory of the video, or of any of my lost days, but at the same time I do. It's like the memory is just so far back in my mind, I can't access it, but there's a recognition there. Almost like when you try to remember a dream and it just slips away. And with this recognition comes the horrifying realization that I do remember, at least part of what happened. The voice belongs to this shadow. The voice was controlling me, or trying to. It wanted me to drive into the lake. It wanted me to drown.

I realize I'm crying now, but I honestly just feel numb. How did I get out of this? Why did this thing want to hurt me? And why, why, why do I feel like I know it?

Emiliaaaa....

No--no, please--no. The voice. It's here, it's back. It feels like it's in the car with me--I can't hear the air conditioning anymore, or the engine, or anything. I just hear a complete and deafening silence until...

Emiiiiiiiiliaaaaa...

It calls my name again... And--oh my god--the marks on my arms...the striations are moving and it's like they're taking over me again. I can't risk losing control before this gets out. Please, someone out there has to help me.

[autumnsart22]

Chapter 14: Oikawa x reader

Hey! Sorry for the late update, I’ve had a hectic past few days. We’re getting super close to the end of this fanfic, I love you if you’ve stuck with it this long. I think next week’s chapter is going to be the final one so stay tuned :) 

Oikawa POV:

During class on Monday, I could barely keep my eyes open. Our teacher seemed to lecture for hours, and every minute seemed to take a week. To occupy myself, I simply stared at Y/n. 

It had started when she had first become our manager, when I was trying to get a reading on her and whether or not she would be a good fit for the team. In the end, I just found her a billion times more interesting than anything else. 

With my head resting on my palm, I watched her scribble violently on the page in front of her, her head tilted and forehead scrunched up. It didn’t look like she was taking notes, which meant she was probably drawing. I knew that it was a hobby of hers--she always seemed to have lead stains on her finger tips from smudging--but she rarely let me look at any of her work. What I had seen had blown me away, but she always would get all red and flustered if I tried to ask to see more. 

It seemed that she was having a particularly hard time with the sketch she was doing now, her hand clenched tightly around the pencil in frustration and an annoyed look on her face. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing as she began cursing under her breath, erasing violently. 

I sighed. How was she so pretty? And what was I going to do? Because being close to her all the time without confessing was looking more and more impossible with every day that went by. 

✨✨✨✨

Y/n POV:

The bell rang and I let out a long breath, closing my notebook and packing away my pencils. I glared one more time at the stupid sketch of Iwaizumi and Oikawa, which just didn’t look right! It was something about Iwa’s nose that was off…Since I was in class, I didn’t want to risk using my phone for a reference picture, but I would fix it later. 

As I got to my feet, Oikawa came over to stand by my desk, hitching his bag on his shoulder. He had taken off his white blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, his red tie a little loose around his neck. 

“God that was so horrendous…” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. I nodded, laughing as he made a face at the teacher. I noticed a few girls glaring at me out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored them. He wasn’t with them right now; he was with me. 

I swung my bag over my shoulder, scooping up my sketchbook and following Oikawa out of the classroom. Iwaizumi met us in the crowded hall, glowering at everyone who passed. When he saw us, he looked vaguely relieved, which instantly melted back into annoyance as we started the journey out of the packed space. 

We were almost to the door when a first year sprinted around a corner, crashing directly into me. I grunted and dropped my sketchbook, papers scattering everywhere. 

“Oh sorry! I’m late to class!” The first year said, not even trying to help me clean up as he took off once again down the hall. 

“Hey!” Iwaizumi yelled, looking ready to chase down the students and make him apologize. 

“It’s fine,” I sighed, patting his arm and leaning down to start scooping up my papers. Iwa and Oikawa moved to help me, and I felt my heart practically stop as I realized what they would see. 

“Wait--!” 

Too late. Both Iwa and Oikawa stared at the pictures scattered on the ground, Oikawa’s mouth slightly open and even Iwa’s eyes a bit wide. 

They were all of Oikawa. 

Ok, maybe not all of them. Some of them were sketches of the whole team, or of Iwaizumi. I had a bunch of all us three, and some just random doodles. But the majority were of Seijoh’s captain, different angles, different styles, color or no color, his hands, his eyes, his hair. Dear god, it was like looking at Oikawa through a many lensed mirror. 

I felt my entire body flush, and I quickly began to snatch up the papers as fast as possible, not caring if they crumpled or tore. 

“Woah, what are you doing? Be careful with them!” Oikawa said, carefully stacking the drawings and handing them to me in a neat stack. His cheeks were tinted pink, but he smiled widely. “Why are you so red, Chibi-chan? These are amazing!”

“Ugh,” I was so embarrassed I could barely speak. “You-it’s not-you’re just easy to draw!” 

Oikawa grinned smugly. “Hear that Iwa-chan? Y/n likes drawing me! Makes sense--I am extremely attractive, after all.” 

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and smacked Oikawa on the back of the head. “Stupid pretty boy,” he grunted. 

My laugh was a bit strained, but I managed to stuff all the papers away before getting to my feet. “Let’s get out of the middle of the hallway.”

As we walked outside, Oikawa turned to me. “Have you ever considered going to art school?” 

I blinked in surprise. I had in fact considered applying to a few, but I knew my parents would never let me go. How did he know that? 

“A bit but...my parents…”

Both Iwa and Oikawa knew how strict my parents were, and how much I was pressured by them. Oikawa looked frustrated, crossing his arms and stopping in the middle of the path, making Iwaizumi and I turn to look at him. 

“What?” I asked. 

“I think you should apply, if that’s what you want to do.” He pointed to the sketchbook I clutched close to my chest. “Those are so good, Y/n. You could really do something with your talent.” 

I bit my lip. “But--”

Oikawa put his finger on my lips, stopping me from speaking. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But think about it, ok? It’s your life, not your parents’.”

Later that day, I sat down on my bed and began to research art schools in Japan. 

✨✨✨✨

“Alright everyone, circle up!” Coach Nobuteru yelled, and the team dropped their volleyballs and headed over to the bench. I tapped my clipboard with my pen, where I had written out comments for each of the players. “Good job today everyone. We have a practice game coming up, so keep up the good work. I’ll let Y/n give you any comments she has about your form.” 

I nodded, smiling. “Everyone has improved so much, I’m so proud of you. I just took a few notes to hopefully help you out.”

I went around and read my comments, which were pretty brief, before letting everyone start cleaning up. 

I began picking up extra volleyballs while the boys changed, rolling up the net and packing up my stuff. My team began filtering out, waving to me as they left. 

“Have a good day!” 

“See you tomorrow!” 

I grinned. “Great job again everyone!” 

Iwaizumi and Oikawa emerged last, and Iwa told us he had to get home to see his mom. Apparently she had started a new treatment where she needed to be in the hospital far more, so he wanted to see her at home when he could. 

I turned to Oikawa, shuffling my feet a little bit. “Um.”

He looked at me curiously. “Yeah?”

“Well I--I don’t know, I was thinking-- I kind of want to um...learn how to serve?” 

Oikawa blinked. “You do?” 

“Yeah, I just. I don’t know, I always give you guys criticism, but I don’t even know how to play. I know I won’t be very good but I just thought…” I trailed off. 

When I glanced up at Oikawa, his eyes were bright and excited. “Oh my god, you’re so cute! I’ll totally teach you how to serve, I’m the best after all.”

I sighed, laughing a little. “Ok then. What do I have to do?”

Oikawa rolled the basket of volleyballs over to the end of the court, showing me how to hold the ball and position myself. 

As I expected, I was absolutely horrendous. I hit the net over and over, or my tosses were too weak to even get close. I cursed violently, but Oikawa thought it was hilarious. He was a good teacher, and obviously an excellent server, but I couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. 

“Don’t worry, it takes a lot of practice. It took me years to get this good.” 

“Ok…” I pouted. 

“Here,” Oikawa wrapped his arms around my waist, adjusting my arms and stance. I shivered, the feeling of his muscles flexing behind me making my heart race. “You throw it like this.” 

He tossed the ball in the air and spiked it hard over the net. I leaned my head back to look at him and smiled. “I think I’ll leave the serving to you.” 

His face was inches away and he gently touched my chin. “Whatever you say, Chibi-chan.” 

We packed up the volleyballs and net, and I locked the door as we headed out. The sky had darkened, and I shivered a little as we headed towards the student parking lot. 

“What are you doing tonight?” I asked, glancing at Oikawa. 

“Ugh, just homework mostly. I have an essay coming up that’s due soon.” 

“God--” 

“Oikawa-san!” A voice called from behind us. “How are you?” 

We both turned, and I clenched my teeth as two pretty girls moved across the grass towards us. I noticed Oikawa grimace before his fake smile was pulled across his face like a mask. 

“Hey! I’m doing good. How are you?” 

One of the girls giggled. “Great. Are you busy tonight?”

I swallowed, turning away without looking at Oikawa. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Oikawa-san.” 

I walked away towards the cars, not looking back. I could hear the girls still talking, but I tugged my beats from around my neck and placed them over my ears to block them out. 

As I unlocked my car, I felt a hand on my arm spinning me around. Oikawa gazed down at me imploringly, tugging my headphones off my ears. 

“Why’d you leave me like that?” He asked, looking betrayed. 

“Huh? I thought you’d want to talk to them.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re so oblivious.” 

I raised my eyebrows. “So you didn’t want to talk to them?”

“No, why would I when I have you?”

I went red, hiding a smile. “Ok then.” 

Chapter 13

Chapter 15