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aggieharkness · 2 days ago

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Have I earned it, mother? Chp. 6

Pairing: Avis Amberg x reader

Summary: the clock ticks for everyone, without care for wealth, titles or power. Avis knew this but so did you, and amongst the fire that blazed inside the studio, someone was bound to get burnt.

Warnings: kidnapping, blood, torture/abuse, injuries/wounds, KKK, guns and use of guns, swearing, character death.

Authors note: First of all, I'm very sorry about what's going on in the US. I hope that the Trump administration doesn't destroy all the lovely people who live over there and don't deserve it. I wish I could help. Secondly, here you have the newest chapter. I looooooooved writing it, and had so much fun, but I must apologise for what I have done with the characters. Still, I hope that you like it and as always, be gentle but tell me If I need to be more graphic, if I'm lacking in something. I am here for you, my dear people, I listen. I also accept ideas that you might have or things that you might want to see Avis and reader do. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Avis Amberg.

Shoutout to @bravewithacapitalb for being my beta reader for part of the story. I love you.

Chp. 1 Chp. 2 Chp. 3 Chp.4 Chp.5

Word count: 24K

Her lips tasted of blood

It was so cold. And dark. You were unsure what was going on or where you were, your body slumped on a chair, freezing under the cold air that moved from wall to wall, all across the room. With great effort, you opened your eyes, but they felt so heavy that it was hard work to simply blink, finding your surroundings blurry, the air damp against your skin, but upon better inspection, your eyes focusing on your lap and legs, you saw that there was blood staining your dress, trails of the crimson liquid dripping from scratches on your knees and wounds on your shins. It was so hard to try and catch a glimpse of the room, to move your arms, tied to the back of the chair with thick ropes, hoping you would be able to stand and observe, but you were trapped. There were no windows, and if they were they were covered up, but there was an oil lamp in a corner of the room, it’s flame dim and barely giving out any light but it helped, nonetheless. The fuzzy feeling that had taken your mind hostage seemed to be vanishing, only a thin fog floating around your thoughts, the event of the previous night broken in pieces as you tried to puzzle it all together, images of Avis sliding before your eyes, of her beautiful brown eyes, of her perfect ginger curls, but they were cut off by figures dressed in black. Who they were you did not know, but they sure as hell weren’t friendly.

As your body rose from its slumber you realised that you were completely alone, the only sound echoing in the empty room being that of your breaths, puffs of it steaming and floating in white rivulets before your eyes. There was a metallic taste in your mouth, your throat dry as if you had just spent weeks in the desert, the feeling of the rough muscle against your palate making you cringe and shiver, but you still ran it over your lips hoping to get some sort of moisture over the scratches and split lower lip. There had been a man as you had stepped out of the car, he had asked you for directions, you thought, or perhaps he had asked for the time, you could not quite remember, but his voice had sounded so familiar, so dangerous that you had not answered. Or maybe you hadn’t had the chance. All you could remember clearly was the feeling of someone watching you as you left Avis’s place. Something dripped down your neck, the sudden feeling making you jump, but it wasn’t the ghostly touch of a finger, it was far too warm, maybe even hot, scorching your skin as it left a sticky trail. You were bleeding, you thought after a moment, your brain still slow in its functions as if there was still something affecting it, the faint smell of chloroform lingering against your nose and mouth with its sweet remnants that told you, you had been drugged, though that much was to be expected. You were not one to simply let yourself be taken by strangers.

As you tried to move your body to the right a sharp pain coursed through your entire arm, making you whimper miserably under the shadows of the room, the sound echoing against the walls mockingly, reminding you that it was only you and your scattered memories. Trying to move it again to assess the damage done you felt the pain radiating from your shoulder all the way to your fingertips, realising after a moment that it could have been dislocated in the struggle. Yes, you had fought against that man, you remembered now. He had grabbed your arm, and you had pushed him, but his grip had been too strong and after scratching his cheek he had slapped you, splitting your lip. You could not recall the words he had spoken to you, but you were pretty sure that Avis’s name had come out of that disgusting mouth of his at some point, the stench of alcohol and cheap cigars hitting you suddenly. There was a pounding feeling on the left side of your head, like a bad headache that was about to start leaving a dull pressure behind your eyes that you could not get rid of, noticing the same warm stickiness that was running down your neck, on your hair. He must have hit you, but why or how was a blank space in the records of your mind?

You could feel every inch of your body battered and bruised, probably black and blue if you could get just a little bit more of light but it was impossible to move. Maybe the chair was too heavy, or bolted to the floor, or perhaps your body just didn’t have the strength to try and stand, your feet bare over the freezing, rough tiles. From your throat a cough erupted, like a bomb going off inside your head, chest convulsing for a few moments, lungs practically begging for air against your bruised ribs. Every cell in your body hurt, like fire spreading through your limbs bringing tears to the corners of your eyes. This attack left you drained, gasping for air and forcing your eyes to close as the light-headedness overtook you again, slamming you to the ground, if you had been able to stand. You just felt so weak, so useless, but in the back of your mind you could only think about how thankful you were that it was you in this room and not Avis. You would have destroyed the entire country to find her if she had been in your exact same predicament, and as much as you wanted to get out of there, to be free and never see that man again, you did not want her to get involved, to put herself in harms ways. If they had done this to you, you could not imagine what they would be willing to do to her.

There was a sound reverberating in the distance, a noise getting closer and closer with each passing second. Your heart hammered against your ribs, each beat hitting on a bruise or a scratch, bringing out silent whimpers, but you didn’t dare make a sound, impending dread building rapidly all over your body, your head moving from side to side to try and locate the door. They were footsteps, the soles of either brand new shoes or refurbished ones stomping over the dirty dark tiles, outside of this room, in a corridor probably, you thought, hands turning into fists as if that could protect you. Foolish move. Behind your back metal screeched sharply, like nails raking over a blackboard continuously until the heavy door banged against the wall. There was silence then, you could not even hear the person breathing, but you did smell a strong male perfume, perhaps an aftershave of sandalwood, a pungent smell of cheap cigars overtaking your senses as it floated in your direction. It was him.

Lurking in the shadows, watching like a hunter, like an animal that was about to feast on the carcass of some poor creature, his eyes raked over your battered body. They were hard, triumphant under the light of the dying flame. He had no desire to move, not yet, he thrived in the way your head moved slowly from side to side trying to see him, on the way your frame trembled in fear and terror, eyes wide and frantic. He had the upper hand now, he thought, drinking in the way your blood dripped down your legs and bare arms, crimson tears splashing over the ground in an ever-growing puddle, a punishment for you. And her. Overstepping, and crossing lines that had been clearly established long ago always brought consequences, no matter how much money or fame one had; a well-placed bullet could end it all in an instant. But he wasn’t that sort of guy, he preferred to see their downfall, to watch them crawl like the useless creatures they were, always under the soles of his shoes, dependent and ever so weak. He loved to push women to the ground and to remind them where they stood in the pyramid of life, next to the cockroaches and the cripples of society. He felt so powerful having you right there, terrified of only his shadow, basking in all the things he could do with you to achieve his purpose, his goal in this life.

One step towards you and your entire body froze on the spot. Another step and you could almost feel his depraved smile against your skin. Another step and the heat of his body was barely a foot from yours, the tension in every muscle crossing the line of torture, reopening wounds, and making thin trails of blood run over your porcelain skin. He was stalking you, preparing himself for the kill, you thought, your breaths so hurried that you feared you might hyperventilate and then his hand landed on your injured shoulder and your world stopped turning as pain radiated all the way down to your fingers and stomach, breaths hitched in your lungs. If you had been in the right state of mind, you would have felt his calloused hand, the crack on his skin and dry palm, but you could not focus, your mind hazy and foggy under the daggers that were piercing every inch of your flesh. He had you right where he wanted you. Weak, pathetic, and probably willing to talk now. He had left that part of the job to another fool who that had failed miserably, so he had to do away with him and come down to finish the job himself. He hated having to get his hands dirty but how delicious it was to watch all those poor people give in to his bloodied hands before the last shot was delivered, their lifeless bodies dripping onto the ground like puppets that had served their purpose and could now be discarded. Better than a glass of champagne after a good dinner. His hot breath caressed your ear in fake gentleness, deep, dangerous words slipping from his lips.

-Will you tell me what I want?

Someone had asked you that, you could remember a young voice shaking as he asked that, but you didn’t know what he meant. You knew nothing, nothing. He must have thought that your silence meant no, and without caring about how painful it might be he pulled your head back, hairs ripping from your scalp, another miserable whimper escaping from your parted and broken lips. The angle didn’t let you see his face fully, and the dim light only made the shadows that danced over his face deeper, darkening his heartless eyes, those sky-blue eyes that hid a merciless soul, that showed the truth of this man as if they were a cover to protect the real him. The murderer, the kidnapper, the one who pulled the trigger at the end of the day. Tears stung your puffy red eyes, gathering at the corners as you held his gaze. There, on his cheek, were the scratches you had inflicted on him the previous night, deep, but no longer bleeding, a sign that he had been almost knocked of his feet by you, a mistake he would not allow to happen again. He would rip your head of your shoulders with his bare hands if he let you overstep like that again, although he was pretty sure it would not happen. You were pretty tied up at the moment.

-Don’t make me play the bad guy. Just tell me what I want, and you’ll be out of here in no time.

-I… I don’t know… - you could not deliver the words, your throat dry, raw from the chloroform and the lack of hydration, your head bent so far back that you feared your muscles might snap from around your shoulders.

-Yes, you do. Do you think us so stupid, so blind that we wouldn’t know what you and that whore have been up to? Avis has not been as careful as she thought, flaunting her affair with you around the entirety of Hollywood.

-We are not…

-Don’t lie to me Y/N! – he yanked your head so hard and so fast that your heart skipped a beat as the chair moved under your body, your feet leaving the feeling of the cold ground behind as he tilted you back, keeping your entire body from slamming onto the floor by holding onto your hair. The tears could not be stopped, falling slowly down your cheeks, making the salty crystal liquid red as they ran over the gash on your cheek, over the splatters of dried blood that were sprinkled over your flesh. – I have seen it with my own eyes. You and she are two depraved creatures that should be put down to protect our children from such disgusting behaviours and to preserve the values of our nation. But you are more valuable to me alive. For now. So, tell me, what would you be willing to do to make sure I don’t put a bullet between her eyebrows?

-Don’t hurt her. Please. I’ll do anything, anything at all.

-See? It’s not so difficult to cooperate with me. – the chair was pushed back on all four legs, making your body bounce painfully, his hand releasing your hair with a relieved sigh escaping your lungs. His footsteps were hard as he came around you, pulling a chair from the furthest corner, the metal scratching the ground so loudly that you had to turn your head away from the sound, the dull ache that had been in your head developing into a proper headache that pulsated deep inside your skull. He placed the piece of furniture before you and sat, arms resting over his knees, legs spread, and face hidden by the dark. The flame had died, leaving you completely at the mercy of his predatory eyes, glowing amongst the shadows. – Start talking.

-What… what do you want to know?

Across Hollywood, the screeching of wheels over the asphalt rumbled as Avis’s driver sped through the streets. A fucking cross burning in her front yard. She was beyond livid, furious at the audacity of this cunts to invade her home and threaten her and her daughter like that. She had been in such hysterics all throughout the night that Claire had to give her some Valium to calm her fury enough so she could sleep. But the effects were long gone, and the rage was once more coursing through her veins. The car turned right, meeting a mob of angry people with signs that said that the production of Meg had to be stopped, that it was immoral what they were doing, and that they had to boycott it and the studio. Fucking bunch of imbeciles, Avis thought, eye narrow as she stared coldly at all those jerks through the car window, their screams and insults sliding off her back as if they were nothing. She would not be cowered down by strangers. They didn’t mean shit to her, words could not harm her, burning crosses, though, that was a whole different matter. The car moved slowly among the people until it managed to cross the gates, the voices vanishing in the distance as soon as they were through and stationed in the parking lot. The image of the flames was engraved in her mind, keeping her still in the back seat of her car for a moment too long.

It was a warning, a wake-up call for her and everyone involved in that film, she knew this, and to a certain extent, she did not care what happened to her. She had taken this risk, she was responsible for it, but if something happened to Claire, she would destroy entire families and bloodlines if she had the chance. She might have not been a good mother, but she was trying now, and the bond that she had formed with her girl meant everything. She was not willing to put her in any kind of danger. The driver held the door open, waiting for her to step out under the warm sun of Los Angeles, looking discreetly at the zoned-out eyes of his boss. Gently the old man cleared his throat which earned him a glare from Avis as she was woken up from her musings, but he was not intimidated, he had been present for the entire conversation she had had with her daughter about her safety and whether she should stay somewhere else until the entire situation cleared up; he knew what had occurred. Avis grabbed her purse with a furious grip, knuckles white at the strength with which she holding the accessory, and got out of the car, her entire frame held high as her steps stomped hard against the concrete ground. She would have to call on a meeting and inform Dick and Ellen about it, maybe Henry and a couple more people, but she was not willing to get the rest of the cast involved in such matters unless it was strictly necessary.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed that the spot where you usually parked your car was empty, that feeling that you should have stayed with her that night returning along with a sense of dread that made her stomach turn. No, she would not have wanted you to see the gift those bastards had left her. The halls were filled with chatter, but it wasn’t the usual nonsensical conversations she heard every day; words were full of fear, of worry, fragments about Molotov cocktails and fires reaching her ears. It surprised her how fast this news had travelled, she had expected to not hear a thing about it until later in the day, which made her wonder if this had not been an attack aimed only at her and Claire. She was beginning to believe this was bigger than she had anticipated. Standing in the lift she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the image of the flames burning, scorching right before her, replaying in her mind on a loop. These people were beyond dangerous, they would go to extremes to achieve their purpose, and she wasn’t sure if she could face this. She was angry, furious, burning with rage, but would that be enough? Was the film worth losing everything else? The doubts she had had when it had still been Peg seemed like child’s play compared to all this, to the now that she was involved in. The doors chimed as the lift doors opened, her heels stepping over the carpeted hallway as she made her way to her office, rehearsing what she was going to say to Miss Stinton without giving too much away, but the words never made it out. Those big doors were open, Ellen sitting on the couch with her hands clasped neatly on her lap, Dick and Henry pacing up and down the room.

-Avis! – the blond woman was the first one to acknowledge her, turning her body nervously to face her friend, the writhing intensifying over her blue skirt. There was a veil of worry over her eyes, like a scared child who needed the comfort of her parents, who needed her friends to assure her that things would be alright, and no one would get hurt. An impossible mission, Avis thought. This might only be the beginning.

-What’s going on? Why are you all here?

-Things have escalated.

-Escalated? Dick? – the gravity of the situation implied by his words sent a shiver down Avis’s spine, her feet carrying her towards her desk so she could leave her purse over the dark wood, hands working on her ginger curls to unpin her hat. She was being deliberately slow, her back to them, doubting if she would not collapse under the pressure of it all. Because something told her that he wasn’t talking about the mob outside. She had expected problems, setbacks, and boycotts, but never had she considered the true extent of what these people might do.

-Camille and Archie have been targeted. A burning cross was left in Camille’s front yard, and they threw what we think was some sort of Molotov cocktail through Archie’s window. The whole place could have burnt down but thankfully it didn’t. These people are moving, Avis, and they are not being subtle about it

-Supposing it is who we think it is.

-Don’t give me that bullshit again, Henry. You know as much as everyone in this room that there’s only one group that gets something out of terrorising us. They’ve been against Meg since day one, boycotting our films, and being extremely vocal about how immoral it is. We all know how dangerous they are. You can’t tell me you haven’t heard stories about them and about how ugly things get if they don’t get their way.

-I’m not saying that it’s not them, Mr. Samuels, but do we have enough proof to say that it was them and not some random anti-black group? No one else in the production of Meg has come forth about something similar happening to them.

-Yes, we do. – Avis felt ice instead of blood pumping from her heart, leaving her body cold against the edge of the desk. This wasn’t just about who was in the film, it was about the studio as well. Turning to face her colleagues was a herculean task at most, legs unresponsive as she held onto the desk to the best of her abilities, dread glazing her eyes as they moved between the three people standing before her. – I was going to call you for a meeting to tell you, but I had someone break into my property last night and leave a burning cross in my front yard.

-What?!

-Claire woke me up saying that the house was on fire, so I grabbed her and went to the front door to get out and that’s when we saw it. There was no message, no threatening letter, nothing, just the cross.

-This is what I mean, Henry! It’s the fucking KKK! No one else would dare leave a fucking cross on fire at the Amberg residence!

-Calm down Dick. – Ellen’s demure and calm personality was always trying to reduce the tension of every encounter, every fight, but it was proving to be rather difficult as her own shoulders tensed in worry, her eyes not leaving Avis’s frame. This was big, it wasn’t just a prank or a game of some random revolutionary group, this was a full threat to everyone. It had moved from being dangerous for her and Claire to being a constant guillotine hovering over everyone’s head in this studio.

-How can I? We might be next; our families might already be on the list!

-Dick, stop! – Avi’s raised hand seemed to serve as a brake for Dick’s rant, forcing him to stop in his tracks and face her. She needed to get the facts straight before moving into step two of this plan she was making up on the spot. – Hold your horses there for a moment and tell me, are Camille and Archie alright?

-Yes. They were a bit shaken but nothing else happened. They called the authorities to have both items removed.

-Alright. You and Ellen haven’t been threatened, have you? No phone calls or strange letters in the mail? Odd visitors or strangers near your homes?

-Nothing of the sort, no. For now anyway.

-Okay. Then the question we all need to be asking ourselves is what are going to do about Meg?

-We can’t cancel it, Mrs. Amberg!

-This are people’s lives, Henry, it’s not a game!

-So, we just give them what they want? Lose all the money we’ve invested and have this reputation for being cowards for years to come?!

-I’m not risking my daughter’s life for a film!

-This is not about the film Mrs. Amberg! It’s about dignity, it’s about fighting back and not letting them walk all over us!

-I must agree with Henry, Avis. They don’t care about the film; they just don’t want a black woman to play the lead. This was never about whether the script was immoral or not, it was bout you green-lighting it and casting Camille. They can’t stand it when women “step out of line”.

-This might only be the beginning, Dick. Is it really worth it? Are we ready to face the consequences?

-You’ve seen it, Avis. Do you think it’s worth fighting for?

She supposed it all came down to that. The story was good, the scenes that were already in post-production were amazing, and it had the potential to be nominated for a fucking Oscar if it carried on like that. It was an amazing film. But it wasn’t just about the art; she knew they were right, it was never about breaking the Hays code or making an indecent film, it was because she was in charge, and she was doing exactly what Ace would have refused to do. She had been pushed aside over and over since birth all because she didn’t have a penis in between her legs, but that didn’t make her less good at her fucking job. She had power now, she could break rules and set new limits, and she could do whatever she wanted in her studio. Was she going to back down now? Was she really going to let these white men take it all from her, from Camille, and from every other woman who was willing to break out of the mold? No fucking way. This would be her life’s work, this might be the only chance to do something that could change lives, that could set a course for a new way of making films. She was too fucking tired of being in the shadows of men and she would not stand for it anymore. They wanted to leave burning crosses in her front yard? Let them. She would have the firefighters on speed dial. No more sitting down to let them do what they desired. There was defiance in her stance, her feet firmly on the floor as she stepped away from the desk and towards Ellen and Dick, palms pressed against the back of the couch, eyes glued to the man in question.

-Are Camille and Archie willing to continue?

-Yes. They said they were used to this sort of thing, Archie even mentioned a time when he saw his uncle being pulled from his bed and hanged from a tree in front of his house. They are scared, frightened even, but they are not surprised about it, and they are willing to carry on.

-These picketings and riots will continue every day until production is finished as well, it’s simply a fact, we all know it, Mrs. Amberg. So as a producer…

-Keep “producer” in quotes. – Henry was walking behind Avis on a loop, his shoes almost leaving a circular mark over the carpet as he moved his hands in front of his chest, emphasising his words even more. Dick’s jab barely made the younger man flinch as he carried on with his speech.

-So as a producer, I must ask, how are we going to make sure that we can continue?

-I can offer them bungalows until the film is done, but if they refuse to leave their homes, which let’s be honest, I wouldn’t do either unless I want to come back to a mount of ashes, I will pay for extra security at everyone’s place.

-This will cost the studio more money than what the budget can afford, Mrs. Amberg.

-Then I will pay for it from my own pocket. We all want this film, don’t we? And our leading cast is willing to carry on? Then we are not backing down. We are making a statement. I will not be bullied.

Fire burnt in her eyes, determination and strength seeping from every pore in her body. Henry was taken aback by how harsh and real her words sounded, but Ellen and Dick simply smiled as they shared a knowing look. There was the fisty Avis they had been looking for, the fiery woman they all knew and needed to fight this. She was a storm, a force of nature that could not be stopped, would not be stopped, and it was no matter what life threw her way, she would get up and carry on. There was rage inside her, an anger at the audacity of these people, but it wasn’t for herself anymore; these kids were good people, they were doing their jobs, things that they loved and meant something to them, they did not deserve to live lives like this. They shouldn’t have to know what the fear of being pulled out of one’s bed and shot should feel like, they shouldn’t have to worry about setting foot out in the streets only to be arrested for having done nothing, to get entire police stations chasing them because some white person called about a “dangerous figure” in their pristine rich neighbourhood. No human should have to know the fear of death as soon as they take their first breath. If the KKK were so ready to pull stunts like this using groups like the American Colonization Society to cover their asses, she was ready to fight back as well. Meg was her baby, and she wasn’t going to let anyone destroy all the hard work she had put into this. She was going to make history you had told her; she was doing what no one else had the balls to do; she wasn’t going to disappoint you. With hands as fists over the leather of the couch she locked eyes with Dick.

-Go down to the set and tell them of our decision. If we want to stay within budget, we can’t afford slip-ups. We must stay on schedule.

Without so much as a nod, he left the room, beaming with pride, followed closely by Henry, the voice of the younger man reaching Avis’s ears as he retorted to Dick about not letting him call himself a producer. They were like children, bickering over the stupidest things. Ellen was the only person left, watching the way Avis rubbed her fingertips and pulled at the hem of her jacket while her eyes still lingered by the doors, a nervous habit the blond knew far too well. There was something else rummaging in that mind of hers, Ellen could see it in her deep doe eyes that flickered from side to side, on the way the ginger bit her lower lip, curiosity peeking through the craziness of the situation. Avis didn’t even get the chance to tell her friend to stay, she had already stood and closed the doors in less than five seconds, making her way back to the couch to sit in front of her, the redhead playing with the stitches that held the leather together. She wasn’t sure why she wanted her to be there, she just knew that she would be the only that could understand these feelings. There was something wrong that no one was seeing, and it unnerved her beyond belif. Something was practically screaming at her from the back of her mind that you should have stayed with her last night, clawing at her heart, the hair on the back of her neck standing every time she left the sensation washing over her. It was as if there was imminent danger in her future and she could not see which way it was coming from.

-Is Claire okay?

-Yeah. She was obviously scared at first but once the fire was out and the police left a couple of boys by the gates she calmed down.

-And you?

-You want an honest answer?

-You know I do, Avis.

-I’m shitting bricks. I hardly slept last night. – it was far too early in the morning for this, but she needed a drink. Maybe the alcohol would make all these feelings diminish their intensity, perhaps even numb her enough that she would be able to carry on with this shit of a day. Ever since you had left, your tender smile still lingering in her mind like the remnants of a sweet wine, everything had gone wrong, and she felt that deep down, she should have known something like this was coming. With tired steps Avis made her way to the table in the furthest corner, eyeing each bottle with practiced care but leaving the shakers on the side as she could not be bothered with the hassle of making a martini. She poured herself a glass of scotch instead, the amber liquid falling gently inside the glass, letting the initial burn bathe her throat before settling in her stomach with a deep sigh, finally building up the courage to face Ellen. - I just can’t wrap my head around how people can do this sort of thing. I thought things would change after the war, but everything’s the same. We are still being persecuted and objectified; black people are still being murdered on the streets, and we think that it’s normal. It isn’t! It shouldn’t be, Ellen.

-Believe me, I understand better than anyone what you mean.

-Are we doing the right thing? They’ve come for Camille, Archie and me, but we can handle it, what if they targeted someone like Jack? Or Ernie?

-Don’t get ahead of yourself. You are already working on it, and I’m sure that as soon as these people see that their little stunt hasn’t worked, they will stop.

-I hope you are right. Ace would drop dead on the spot if he knew about what’s going on. – she could almost see his disapproving glares and disgusted smirks, making her feel so small, so insignificant. But she also knew that as macho as he always acted, he wouldn’t have the strength to put up with all of this, he wouldn’t fight for what was right, he would simply shut it all down and bow down to all those bastards trying to intimidate him. She was far from that sort of woman, even if the doubts took hold of her every chance they got, after all, people’s lives were at stake here, not just a film and a budget.

-But he isn’t here, dear, you are. This is your studio.

-Which means I’m responsible for everyone under this roof and I’ll be dammed if I let some man-child throw a hissy fit on my doorstep. Next time I’ll shove those crosses up their asses, mark my words, Ellen.

-Oh, I can totally see you doing that. – she patted the seat next to her, the leather cold under her palm, but her smile warm and inviting. Avis didn’t protest, simply made her way to the appointed spot and let herself fall as gracefully as possible with the glass still in her hand, taking a sip once she was settled. Ellen’s expression had changed slightly, observing her friend with a raised eyebrow and a coy smile on her lips, the fear and worry that had previously overtaken her eyes, now pushed to the back. She had been caught, Avis thought. Of course, her best friend would find out about her affair, but maybe she could play it safe and keep you to herself for a bit longer, although it would be a hard task. Thinking about you brought a light blush to her cheeks, calming her racing thoughts and pressured feelings somewhat. - So… why aren’t you telling me to go back to work? What little secret are you hiding from me?

-I’m not hiding anything.

-Really? So, if I ask why Y/N came to work the other day wearing your black shawl, you are going to tell me that it was because she was cold and you simply lent it to her the night before?

-It’s not like that, Ellen. – here she was, with a screaming mob outside and fire dangling above her head and the only thing that she cared about was making sure you were not defamed in front of her. You had never been a one-night stand or some means for her to achieve an orgasm. You were everything to her; the moon, the sun, the stars, the air that she breathed, and the land she walked upon. Avis’s eyes were stern when she lifted them from the amber liquid in her glass to stare at Ellen’s endless blue ones. - She’s not like the boys from the gas station.

-But you like her.

-I do, but most importantly, she likes me back. We have… something special. She makes me feel like I matter, as if I’m human and therefore deserving of love and recognition. When I’m with her I’m a million dollars all in brand-new twenties.

-Oh, my Lord. Avis Amberg, you are in love! – that wasn’t news to her, but hearing it from someone else made her heart skip a beat, a giddy smile painting her lips. It was strange to have another person voice it so plainly, it made it so real, but the again, it was. She was madly and utterly in love with you.

-I know it’s wrong, to a certain extent, since I’m married, but everything’s just so perfect when I’m with her.

-Oh, this is wonderful! - what? Avis’s eyes were wide in surprise, the left corner of her mouth lifting in a lopsided smile as she stared dumbfounded at Ellen. It wasn’t that Ellen didn’t know about all the conquests that she carried under her belt, but somehow, she had expected her to defend the values of her marriage to Ace a bit more, but she hadn’t even tried. And that simple fact and the genuine smile that she was giving her lifted a weight of her shoulders that she hadn’t known was crushing her. – She’s a lovely girl, and she clearly is doing you a world of good. Oh, Avis, I would love to ask her to come up here to gossip about it all, but she hasn’t arrived yet.

-Y/N is not here yet?

-No. I thought it was odd, since she’s always so punctual, in her chair at seven sharp, and she always informs me if she has an appointment or if she’s feeling ill, but I had too much on my mind this morning to think about it for too long. – all the joy and warmth of this little moment was wiped out in under a second, her words cutting sharply and making that nagging and disconcerting feeling of dread rise to the surface like foam exploding from a champagne bottle. She noticed the change in her friend’s demeanour, the way her eyes unfocused for a moment, lost in a world of their own as her stance became sharp, tense under the touch of Ellen’s slender fingers on her arm. - Avis?

-She accompanied me home last night, but she didn’t stay. I heard her car drive off.

-I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she forgot to tell me about an appointment, or something came up.

-No. I had this feeling last night, I still have it now, that she should have stayed. It wasn’t because I would miss her, it was just this visceral need to keep her safe with me, as if I could protect her. – she placed the glass on the coffee table, the scotch nearly spilling over the rim and onto her pale hand. - Something’s wrong. It’s like there’s this danger right in front of me that I can’t see, and it’s somehow related to her.

-Calm down, Avis. I’m sure that all this is brought on by the circumstances and she’s in fact fine.

-You don’t understand Ellen. I felt it in my bones, in my soul that she needed to stay, that something would go wrong if she left, and I still let her walk away. What if she’s had an accident or has gone missing?

-Missing? I wouldn’t quite say that being late for work qualifies a person as missing. You are letting your thoughts get the better of you. Y/N might be at home, and you are just worrying over nothing.

-But what if she isn’t? After last night can you blame me for wondering if she’s alright?

-I suppose not. Maybe you can send someone down to her address, check it out.

-Yes, I think that would work.

She rushed to her feet, hands shaking. If something had happened to you, she would blame herself for all eternity, the image of your car smoking, crashed against a lamppost or falling down a bridge, exploding into a million pieces passing through her mind, making her heart race against her ribs. The palms of her hands were sweaty as she pulled the doors open once more, eyes landing on Miss Stinton instantly, her feet stumbling slightly as she made her way to the woman’s desk. Ellen had stood from her spot on the couch, but didn’t follow, she merely rounded the piece of furniture and headed for the window, waiting for Avis to finish her conversation with her secretary. She could not say that your tardiness wasn’t strange, but she wouldn’t go the extent of saying that you were missing, not really, but her friend seemed so sure, so worried and scared that she was doubting her own reassurances. Everything about this day was beginning to look like a macabre play and they were all performing it against their will. Someone was bound to get hurt sooner rather than later. The shrill sound of the phone ringing inside the office interrupted her train of thought, and after glancing towards Avis who was writing something down on a piece of paper while talking hurriedly, Miss Stinton nodding her head solemnly, Ellen walked quickly to pick it up. There was silence for a moment on the other side of the line.

-Mrs. Amberg’s office, how may I help you?

-Did Avis like the present we left in her garden last night? – her blood ran cold. A man’s voice spoke to her, words distorted as if a cloth was covering the bottom part of the handset, a mocking tone lacing them, deep and rumbling. They raked at her spine, freezing her on the spot without a clue what to do, what to say, but he knew she was still there, her breathing sharp and hurried against the black phone. It was them, that was the only thing clear in her mind, but them calling was most definitely a bad sign that there was something else going on. Maybe they had overlooked a detail, and it had led to this, Ellen could not be sure.

-Would… would you hold for a moment, please? – she did not wait for a response, even though she wasn’t certain she would get one. With eyes wides, she turned her body around, almost as if the world was suddenly happening around her in slow motion, knuckles white as she held hard onto the receiver. - Avis! – the woman was talking still with Miss Stinton, dismissing her call with the wave of her hand before returning her attention to something displayed on her secretary’s desk. God dammit Avis, this was far more important! Fear and anger were beginning to spread like wildfire through her limbs, overtaking the numbness and shock. - AVIS!

-What?!

-This is for you.

She would have huffed and retorted at her friend if the sight of her pale face had not made all sorts of alarms go off in her head. The way she was holding the phone, as if her life depended on it, the fear dressing her features, made her hands tremble, her heart racing against her ribs so hard that she thought she might bruise them. There had been a slight waver to her friend’s words as she had spoken them that had brought goosebumps up all over her skin in worry. She was usually so well spoken, perfect dictation and tone lacing everything she said; this was wrong. Avis’s steps were slow, unsure at first, but Ellen’s stance did not falter, if only it got worse as she began to shake, forcing her movements to become faster, clumsier as well over the carpet. On the other side of the receiver, the man puffed his chest, his patience running thin. He had half a mind to hang up, but he could not lose the opportunity to threaten and bargain with the woman he so wanted to crush into dust. The longer this went on for, the higher the chance of them getting caught, and he could not afford such a thing to happen. He needed the girl alive until he got what he wanted, and he wasn’t planning on keeping her around past this evening. Avis’s perfectly manicured hand stretched out, palm upright to receive the phone, the plastic making contact with her skin as Ellen handed it to her, the blond rushing to cover her mouth as the other woman removed her earring before pressing the handset against her ear.

-Hello?

-You don’t seem to be a fan of fire, are you Avis? – the insolence of this man! To call her and mock her like this, filled her entire being with fury, eyes narrow and hard, locked onto Ellen’s figure but without actually seeing her. How fucking dare he! She could almost feel the way he was smiling as he addressed her, as if he held the upper hand during this conversation. He knew perfectly well that this little stunt had caused an uproar, and that she had not appreciated it in the slightest, but to call her at the office when the cable girls had every strict orders to not let any unsolicited numbers through meant this wasn’t a simple inquiry about her health, per se. Even through the cloth he was clearly using to disguise himself, Avis could hear the sounds of cars in the distance, random honks breaking the otherwise silent air around this man. She bit back with all the rage she could muster, making her words sharp, as if they could draw out blood.

-Who’s this?!

-Oh, please, do I need an introduction? I thought that my little present had been enough, but maybe I was wrong.

-Who are you?! What do you want?!

-Now, now, there’s no rush. No need to become so emotional, my dear woman. Did you like the cross? It was made out of the best wood.

-You think that a thing like that can scare me?! Well, you are wrong. I have put up with worse shit than that.

-I suspected as much. You can be so stubborn Avis. That’s why I have taken the liberty of doing something special for you. – her head was cold, ice in her veins at the sound of his words. They were dangerous, spoken in such a low deep voice that a shiver of terror ran down her back. This was it; she could feel it in her bones, the dread she had been holding onto all night spreading to every cell, from the top of her head to the tip of her fingers and toes, horror overtaking the rage that had glazed her eyes. She could see the danger she had been running away from standing before her in a dark cloak that hid its features, a sharp dagger in its hand waiting to rip her to shreds. He had caught up with her at last. Ellen’s heart dropped to her stomach the instant she saw the shift in Avis’s entire demeanour, needing to place a hand over the desk to keep herself upright as all colour drained from her friend’s face. And then those cursed words slipped out of his lips and the world crumbled around Avis. - You did not say how pretty she looks when unconscious.

-WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

-So temperamental. I simply made sure to have an incentive so you would cooperate. What are you willing to do to make sure I don’t hurt this pretty young thing you seem so taken with, Avis? Would you kill? Would you die?

-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HER! – she was panicking, she could not describe it any other way. Her heart was two seconds away from bursting in anger and fear, making her breaths so hurried that even though air was going through them she felt as if there was no oxygen reaching her brain. They had taken you! They couldn’t be sure she would do what they desired after threatening part of the cast and her own daughter, so they had kidnapped you. Every fibre of her being was screaming in agony at the thought of you being locked somewhere, in the dark, rats scurrying through the corners of the room while you cried and begged for help, beaten and bruised. Her heart almost bled through her clothes as she imagined your broken voice calling her name.

-I won’t if you comply with my requests.

-You think you can call me and make demands?! Who the hell do you think you are?!

-Careful, Avis, are you sure you are in a position to anger me and deny me my every wish? My finger can slip so easily and pull the trigger of my gun. – her breath hitched in her lungs, the grip on the phone so strong that she felt as if the plastic could shatter in between her fingers. She had to calm down, she couldn’t let her temper cloud her mind and risk your safety, as much as she hated being threatened and bullied. His words had left no room for hope of your release unless she complied, knowing that if he didn’t get what he wanted, he would kill you without mercy and dump your body somewhere for bears or wild dogs to eat. After a moment of resolution, she spoke again, voice quieter, levelled.

-What are your requests?!

-I knew you would understand. I want you to cancel the production of Meg for good, and to take all the rolls of film, every single scene you have, to the forest close to Hollywood station. And don’t even think of pulling any sort of tricks on me and leave some other film instead, because I will know, Avis, and I won’t hesitate to send you the girl’s head all wrapped up in tissue paper.

-If you lay a hand on her, I swear I will find you and destroy you.

-How will you achieve that when you don’t even know who I am? – he was right, she had no idea how to find him, who he was, or where he was calling from. He could be all across the country for all she knew, having used puppets to frighten them and kidnap you with the dark of the night as their cover. His words left a bitter taste on her tongue, but she could find no retort to his statement. In the background the whistle of a train echoed loudly, the sound of its wheels screeching over the tracks for a few seconds before it vanished into the distance, overpowering the silence that had otherwise been in the background throughout the entire conversation. Wherever this man was he had means of escape, she thought, but it all slipped to the back of her mind as he carried on talking. - Don’t play the hero Avis, it doesn’t suit you. Back to business. I also want you to write a binding contract handing the direction of the studio to an unknown party. Leave the name of the new owner blank but sign the document.

-I refuse to do that. One thing it’s the film and another very different is to hand out the entire company to a stranger.

-Does the studio mean more to you than Y/N? Is that what you are saying? Maybe I misinterpreted your actions, and you don’t care enough about her to save her. Makes killing her a much easier task for me.

-NO! DON’T!

-Then leave the document along with the rolls where I said before twelve, and she’ll find her merry way back to you before the day is over.

-Let me talk with her first.

-Why do people always ask for the same thing? It’s as if you don’t trust me.

-Of course, I don’t you fucking psychopath!

-Now, Avis, don’t insult me. I have half a mind to chop one or two of Y/N’s fingers to show you how a lady should behave.

-Please, don’t hurt her, just… - if only she could hear your voice, make sure you were alive, she would push through, no matter what she had to do. Just a chance to talk with you so she could make a choice between what was right and what was easy. This agony that had taken her heart hostage was suffocating, forming a lump in her throat as she fought to keep her voice as steady as possible, slow so he wouldn’t think she was begging more than she already was. - just let me talk with her.

-I suppose I can grant you that. Alright. – there was a ruffling sound on the line, followed by the scratching of something metallic over rough ground, probably cement Avis thought, before it all stopped and the voice of the man reached her ears, the cloth gone from the handset. It sounded familiar, deep, with a gentle tilt around certain letters. She was sure she had heard it before, but it was too far away for her to pinpoint exactly who it belonged to; maybe she was wrong altogether and she was simply trying to find someone to blame all this for that wasn’t herself. - Here, say hello to your mistress.

-Avis? – if she had been shot straight through the heart it would have hurt less. You sounded so weak, so scared and she could do nothing to ease your pain and fears. Tears were pooling on the corner of her eyes, blurring her vision and making Ellen’s shaky form hardly a shape, just blobs of blue tones. The blond was barely holding on as it was, hand on her chest as if that could help her galloping heart slow down.

-Y/N! Oh, God, are you okay? Can you tell me where you are? I shouldn’t have let you leave last night. It’s all my fault.

-Avis, listen to me. Don’t give him shit. You finish that film and show it to the world, and you make sure that everyone knows what these jerks did to try and stop it, what it took. I don’t care if I never make it out of this room; I will die for your chance to fuck them over, and I’ll do it proudly. Just don’t give in. Ever.

-You bitch! – flesh collided with flesh, resonating against the walls of the prison he was keeping you in. The slap had left a sting on your cheek, making your wounds bleed again, dripping hot crimson blood over what once was porcelain skin, now black and blue. She could not get it out of her mind, the sound of your pain, the angry voice of this man, echoing in Avis’s head. It felt as if she had been the one hit, shot over and over without giving her the chance to protect herself, her heart being ripped out of her chest, killing her as a whimper made its way out of your mouth, miserable in the silence that should have accompanied you, but he was moving, maybe circling you, his footsteps hard against the ground. Calling out your name was an involuntary reflex that slipped from her red lips.

-Y/N!

-Don’t look for me, Avis! Don’t let them win! I LOVE YOU!

-Y/N! Y/N!

The line went dead. It didn’t matter how many times she slammed the plunger not a sound came through, your voice the last thing remaining in her ears. It was agony to know that she had put you in harm’s way unknowingly, that your life depended on one single choice that happened to be the most important and most difficult she could make in her life. She did not know whether she wanted to cry or scream, this pain that was clawing at her heart was so raw and profound that it was snatching the air out of her lungs. She had had you in her hands and she had let you slip through her fingers. This was her fault, everything her own stupid fault! If Ellen had not held onto Avis’s upper arms the woman would have collapsed onto the floor, the strength the blond possessed managing to sit her on the couch, the receiver dangling from the desk, forgotten as bitter, sorrowful tears finally broke through Avis’s eyelashes and began to fall. They burnt the same scorching fire she had felt coming from the cross. But the clock was ticking, seconds were passing, minutes following close by and your life hung by a deadline that she had to meet if she wanted you safe. But your words bounce against her skull, making the mental pain so physical that her limbs ached in anguish. “Don’t look for me”. Through her blurry vision, she locked eyes with Ellen, grief lacing her every word.

-Go find Dick. Now.

Your head was pounding as your eyes blinked open, the semi-unconscious state you were still in making the pain so distant around your body. It was as if you were floating outside of it, but it was short-lived. The world around you swayed from side to side, in circles that made you dizzy, as the confusion of what had happened twirled like rivulets around your many thoughts, snippets of the conversation floating senselessly in your mind as your eyes tried to refocus on the room. It was still the same, dark and gloomy, drops of condensation falling in a steady rhythm from some corner or other, the musty damp smell assaulting your nose along with the metallic stench you were bathed in. Nothing had changed except for the flame that was now burning bright in the oil lantern, allowing you to see the figure of the man sitting opposite your place in the middle of the room, the shadows still hiding his face from you. You did not need to see him to know that he was angry. The simple action of turning your head to observe the floor left you close to unconsciousness again, a sharp pain coming from your temple down to your neck rendering you useless, weak before his predatory eyes. Why had he hit you? You could feel the leftover sting on your manhandled skin, but could not make sense of the why, of anything that was going on in your head, frustrating and disconcerting you as you found yourself as lost as when you had first woken up in here. If only you could calm yourself enough so the pieces of your abused mind could fall into place.

Without warning the man stood, his body towering over yours, the previously bloodied clothes long gone, replaced by a pristine brown suit, but there was one thing wrong. His left shoe was stained in your blood. Of course, you had told Avis not to listen to him and he had got angry, hitting you on the side of your head with his foot after he had slammed the phone against the ground. Little pieces of beige plastic were still scattered on the floor you saw, in between puddles of your own blood, the stains dark against the dirty grey concrete. Everything was falling into place. The conversation, what had happened in front of your building last night, the punches and pushes as he asked you question after question and you didn’t give him the answer he was so looking for. He was running out of time and was becoming increasingly furious at your lack of cooperation, his steps getting closer to you with each passing second. To say that you weren’t scared would have been a lie, the terror spreading all over your body, inch by inch, but you were also determined to succeed in your endeavour. Avis had to finish the film and show the world that the KKK held no power over them, no matter how many threats and blood was spilt, the people had to fight for freedom. If you had to die to achieve it, so be it. At least you had got the chance to tell her that you loved her.

And that simple action made his blood boil; it was clear in his hard cold eyes. They shone so bright amongst the shadows, lies dressed in sky blue to lure you in before he could deliver the final blow. Sweat ran down your arms, beads forming on your forehead that fell in slow motion over your cheeks, from the tip of your nose and fell over the scrapes on your legs, stinging, but you didn’t make a sound. Not this time. His fingers ghosted over your injured shoulder, the heat emanating from him contrasting with how cold you felt, his hand moving up to your neck, but he never actually touched you. Perhaps he didn’t wish to stain his expensive shirt, you thought bitterly. He kept circling you, watching your staggering breaths, a quiet hissing sound breaking from inside you with each puff of air, drinking in the way your body shook even if he wasn’t touching you, harming you in any way, not that he didn’t desire to crush that pretty skull of yours under his shoe. The need to win was overly intoxicating to him, like a drug that was speeding through his system, pumping adrenaline up to his brain. He needed to win, he would ensure he took the studio from her, and the instant that happened, no black person would set foot inside his domains. He would handle Ace when the time came. He was giving you his back, shoulder square, as he observed the flame before he turned around and grabbed your face roughly, a yelp mixing with a painful whimper as the pads of his fingers dug deep over your wounds. The pain blurred your vision as tears gathered behind closed eyelids.

-You think you are so clever, playing this game that you can’t win. Why did you even bother to give her false hope? I will get what I want even if I end up with two dead bodies in my hands.

-All that ego and self-assuredness might come back to bite you in the ass… sir.

His hand released your face, relief washing through every cell in your body, but it was short-lived. Square on the chest his foot made contact with your flesh, the hard sole leaving a bloody imprint on the fabric of your dress. There was no air in your lungs, only agony that spread like wildfire all along your ribs and sternum preventing you from breathing, miserably gasping in failed attempts to get this torture to end. In slow motion, your body tilted back, and it wasn’t until your arms collided against the cold, hard ground, crushing them under the weight of your body and the back of the chair that you realised he had not only hit you, but pushed you as well. From your raw throat, a scream tore through the abused cords, saliva mixing with blood in your mouth as the sound echoed against the bare walls. You had never in your entire life felt something like this, the way your bones seemed to be made out of glass, breaking and shattering all around you, your skin ripping and falling off your body, muscles melting in the scorching white fire that enfolded you, organs failing at doing the most mundane of tasks. The blow could not kill you but if he decided to end your misery now you would have considered it an ounce of mercy that this heartless son of a bitch was willing to give you. But alas he thrived in making you feel like a piece of dirt in his eyes, and he had no intention of destroying you. Not yet anyway. He squatted and bent until his face was inches from yours, a maddening smile on his thin lips as your eyes battled against the spasms that tormented your body, focusing after a moment, finally able to see his features under the flickering light of the flame.

-Remember that your life is not the only one at stake here, Y/N. You failed to tell me how to end her, so now I’m obligated to go and ensure that Avis does what told, making me lose precious time. I do not like being played with and I do not wish for things to get any messier, it takes so much work to clean up after, so be a good girl and stay put and quiet. – it could not be. He had been around you and Avis for years, his glances and discriminatory words floating around the studio as if he was addressing the state of the stock market, and neither of you hadn’t suspected a thing, but of course, it had to be him, no one else gained something from making so much noise about this entire situation. It had made no sense, but laying here now, your body broken and bleeding in despair, mind foggy and dizzy as the pain still rippled through your veins, you realised that everything that had led up to this moment, that first instant that had sparked it all, had been staring at you from the very beginning. You should have seen it coming, you thought, his breath stinking of alcohol and those dammed cigars that you despised so much, but he had played his cards too well, hiding in plain sight. No one would have thought it could have reached this point. Coming to stand to his full height he observed you manically, eyes almost twitching as he assessed you, thinking about what he could do with you before his shoe collided with your head again and the world turned black. Perhaps next time he knocked you unconscious you would not wake up, he thought gleefully, a trickle of your blood falling from your nose onto the concrete. – Well, no one is going to hear you now for sure.

On the wall the clock ticked, marking each passing second as a companion to Avis’s steps over the carpet, a constant rhythm that grated on her nerves as the anguish that had overtaken her senses clouded her mind. The skin around her nails was bitten, broken and in some areas bleeding slowly around the bright red of her nails, stains of her lipstick marking the spots where her mouth had made contact with her fingers, anxiety bringing forth a habit she had tried to quit since little. Every thought was a turmoil of emotions and actions that left her confused, unsteady on her feet, pacing up and down her office while Dick and Henry argued over this and that, background noise to her. She could not get your voice out of her mind, the way the pain laced every word, the way she could hear the rawness of your throat and the whizzing of your breathing against the receiver. It was like a dagger was slicing through her chest with every passing second, digging deeper and deeper, staining her clothes in sticky hot blood, dripping from her hands in agony as the conversation replied in her mind with no chance of escape. She had never meant for any of this to happen, to put you in harm’s way like this when the only thing her heart desired was to simply be with you. She should have known that Meg would bring consequences of this calibre, she should have been prepared, and yet she was caught completely off guard by it all, cursing her own existence as the sound of your pleading but determined words banged against her skull. The touch of a gentle pair of hands on top of her shoulders forced her to halt her train of thought, turning her head slightly to the right to see Ellen’s kind eyes staring back at hers.

-Why don’t you sit down? You are going to wear a hole in the carpet with all this pacing.

She was right. The constant motion all over her office was not doing anything at calming her nerves, she wasn’t even paying attention to what Dick was saying, ideas and questions that flew over her head and never received an answer. She could not afford to let her mind get lost in her grief, she had to push it all aside and find a way. She could not lose you; it would kill her. The blond’s tender touch and warm smile made it easy for Avis to turn her body away from the doors, walking in between the coffee table and the couch until Ellen pushed her slowly against the leather, letting her body fall over the cushions. It was a beautiful contrast to the battlefield inside this room the way that her friend’s voice never rose in volume, never berated her or asked things of her that Avis knew she could not give, it was as if two polar opposites were residing inside this office and she was caught in between them, the compassion that exuded from Ellen’s body with each movement she made, settling herself beside the ginger on the couch and the tumultuous and loud atmosphere that surrounded the two men, like a fire that was sure to consume her if she got too close. Her brown eyes watched them all, but her ears could not pick up words or sentences, only the rage that poured out of Dick and the nonchalant air that came from Henry’s uncaring eyes. He didn’t understand, he didn’t know Y/N like they did, like she did; to him, she was just a name with no face that he would not cry about at the end of the day. And that single thought fuelled the fire that had stood dormant in her chest, exactly what she had needed to spring into action, the previous hazy world around her now moving at the speed of light, eyes locked furiously on the two males that still ranted before her.

-We can’t just let that man get what he wants! This film is far too important, you’ve said it a thousand times, Dick!

-That was before a woman’s life was on the line! We can’t just simply say no to his demands and let him kill her! For God’s sake Henry, think a little!

-I am thinking, you are the one who’s letting his emotions fill your argument! If we give him the film and the studio what guarantees us that that girl won’t be killed anyway?!

-Nothing, but that doesn’t mean that we have to abandon her! We can’t just give up! What do we do, Henry, don’t put up a fight and try to make a deal? Or reach an agreement so a woman won’t fucking die?!

-We listen to her! The girl told us not to give into his demands, isn’t that right Mrs. Amberg? – everyone’s eyes were on her, waiting, breaths held. The girl is really what he addressed you as? It’s that what he thought of you, that you were just some random girl the studio had hired? You had a name, you were not just a number on a long list of paychecks that had to be delivered at the end of the month, and she refused to let him forget it. With a deep sigh, Avis finally spoke for what seemed like the first time in hours.

-Y/N said to make the film, to show it to the world.

-See?

-But we won’t.

-What?! – she closed her eyes at the sound of his raised voice, grimacing at the sound for a moment. She understood that this was his big opportunity, that this film would put him out there as a producer and cancel it meant going back to the position he had all his life, but she couldn’t quite comprehend why he was so adamant about continuing when everyone else seemed to understand that the best thing was to halt it all, maybe even to end it here and now, that this wasn’t just a threat and a menacing phone call. A woman had a gun to her head for all she knew. His unwillingness to see that this was the right choice unnerved and angered Avis, but she tried her best to keep her voice steady and neutral.

-I don’t care about how much this fucking movie might change the world or help the minorities. That was the main argument before, but not now. I am not willing to lose her for something that will end up picking up dust on a shelf once theatres either stop showing it or refuse to do it in the first place.

-You can’t be serious! We’ll lose all the money we’ve invested, all the money that we’ve given to those magazines to cover up for your indiscretions. Everything down the drain when this girl told us to carry on! This is insane!

-No! What’s insane is how willing you are to throw her under the bus! This is a person we are talking about, a fucking human being that means the entire fucking universe to me! I don’t care how many rolls of film get burnt, or if the entire building collapses as long as we get her out of wherever that psychopath has her!

-And the studio? Do we hand that to him on a silver platter as well? What would Mr. Amberg say if he woke up and saw that his life’s work was in the hands of some stranger?!

-BUT HE’S NOT HERE! THIS IS MY STUDIO AND I HAVE THE LAST WORD! – the glass of scotch she had left on the table shook under the force with which she slammed her fist over the wood, creaking slightly where her hand was resting. She was fucking exhausted of everyone bringing up her husband any chance they got. She was in charge now, not him, and she couldn’t give less of a fuck about what he would do or not do! She was not going to let anyone get killed for a fucking film, no matter how important it may be! She was Avis fucking Amberg, not some random clerk from a shop, and she would be dammed fi she was going to let anyone tell her what to do and then hit her with the “What would Ace say” card when things didn’t go their way. This was her choice to make, and only hers, and she had already made up her mind about the whole situation he instant that man had phoned. If henry didn’t like it, he could quit and cry about it in his own fucking house like the child he seemed to be. Inside the room silence filled every crack and crevice, the only sound that could be heard being Avis’s angry hurried breaths and the ticking of the clock, a constant reminder that the longer this argument took the closer you were to Death. Dick could not even bring himself to speak, shock clear in his face at Avis’s sudden outburst while Henry’s words rang in his head like a broken record. This was such a mess.

-So that’s it? You were so willing to carry on and now… puff… we bend over the desk and let them fuck us?! And here I thought that you would change things Avis. What a fool I was.

-Why can’t you understand, Henry, that this is no longer about the studio or the film? This is a personal vendetta against all of us, against me, and Y/N doesn’t deserve to die because of it.

-Except that she clearly stated she would take one for the team and protect you, the studio, and Meg. You told us she said to not look for her, that she would die proudly if it meant inching closer to destroying these people. Do you really want to risk everyone and everything for her!?

-Henry. – Ellen’s voice held none of the warmth she had used with Avis, quite the opposite. Her tone was a warning one, as if she was giving him the chance to retract himself and leave it all be before he said something he would regret, but he could not stop now that he had began to pour all his frustrations out. He might get fired for this, he thought, but he had to protect his interests, his own future and that of the studio, even if it meant standing up to Avis and Dick.

-No, Ellen. Her life is not the only one hanging on by a thread! Archie and Camille could have been easily murdered. Hell, you and your daughter could have been shot in the middle of the night while in bed, Avis! If we give up now, if we give in, the world will still be the same, with its injustices, its reign of terror and fear, with no chance of fixing that which we have broken in the first place. Nothing will have changed, and the girl might still die.

-Enough, Henry! I wouldn’t do it; I can’t do it. I’m sorry, but this is personal now.

-God, Avis, you are being unreasonable! If this is all just a vendetta against you and not just a persecution for breaking the Hays Code, who even would gain something by doing all this, huh, tell me?! Who would want to kidnap her and make such demands?!

-Someone from the studio.

Dick’s words echoed in the room for a few seconds, ringing curiously inside her head before a commotion in the hallway made it fall to the back of everyone’s mind. Miss Stinton voice reached their ears, distressed, struggling hard to keep someone away from the office, but it was a lost battle, and with a huff and the sound of her back colliding with the edge of the desk, Lon’s figure crossed the threshold as if he owned the place, briefcase in hand and that look of superiority bathing his features. God, not him, Avis thought. She could not deal with him right now. He would start talking all his bullshit, making them lose precious time, trying to convince her of doing things his way as if that was the only logical option, and she really didn’t want to lose her temper and tell him anything about what was going on with Y/N. She could almost see him using that information to berate her and act like the entitled son of a bitch he was. Her hand still laid on the table in a fist, but her eyes didn’t land on it, they observed the liquid amber that was still left in the glass, a rim of the spilled drink surrounding it, probably staining the wood already. In frustration she picked it up and took a sip, her body partially turned away from him since Henry was standing before her big desk, opposite the doors.

-Don’t get up.

-I won’t. – her eyes rolled of their own accord, his voice already grating on her nerves as his feet firmly planted over the edge of the carpet, standing before them as he tried to make himself seem taller, bigger. Did he think he stood a chance of cowering Avis down by using that macho act? Dick had to give it to him if he truly thought he could. He supposed that being delusional could be an acquired skill after so many years of being a cunt.

-In light of recent events I’ve come to inform you that production on Meg must be halted.

-Didn’t I fire you weeks ago? - The fucking cheek he had to use that condescending tone in her own office!

-You don’t have that power. I work for Mr. Amberg.

-That is out of line. – Dick stepped in like a spring, getting closer to the man in hopes of stopping him from heading the way he knew he was heading. The air was thick with tension, hot air swaying in between them as Avis’s frame became straighter on her spot, the grip on her glass so hard that Ellen was nearly counting the seconds it would take to shatter.

-Refusing to shut this picture down is out of line. Mrs. Amberg leaves me no option but to take legal action.

That was it! She had put up with him for years, smiling politely at his comments, swallowing her pride each time he jabbed at her lack of a job or power, laughing at her with his smirks and stabbing words about Ace’s affairs. She had been a lady and had taken it all for the sake of the studio, of her husband’s reputation. He was a cruel, perverted man, that much became clear when he had tried to get his way with you at the New Year’s Eve party, but after Ace’s heart attack he had become so full of himself, as if the world owed him and he could get whatever he wanted with just one word. He had tried his best to wear her down enough that she would quit, and she had considered it once or twice, but for him to come here when she was already furious enough about everything that was going on and tell her that he was taking this to a fucking judge! She couldn’t do whatever she fucking desired in her own fucking studio?! The glass in her hand was slammed onto the table once more, the scotch dripping off the rim as she stood in fury, Ellen’s hands stretching to grab her, but to no avail; she was too far away.

-This is my studio.

-I recognise that this is emotional for you. With all that’s been happening, you are not thinking clearly.

-Oh. – he was trying to play a game of fake sympathy, she noticed, the term emotional tilting slightly as he said it, almost mockingly. Two could play at that. Lulling her head gently to the side she smiled sweetly at him, lacing her every word with a fake kindness and sugary tone, dripping thickly like honey over his entire body, purposely tripping him. - A woman makes a decision and suddenly she’s irrational.

-No, no, That’s not… I didn’t mean to…

-Yes, you did! You waltz in here whenever you desire to remind me that you are there, always watching. – every step was meticulously planned, slow in execution, but it made him visibly shake as the gap between them became less and less. Yes, Lon, fear me, she thought, you will all know who I am, soon enough. -By the time you get your ducks in a row for our little date in court, my picture will be in the can. – anger glazed his eyes, fingers twitching around his briefcase, but he didn’t raise a hand to her, no matter how much he desired to. Avis’s triumphant smile was almost too much for him, the way she thrived in her victory, but he could not let his temper get the best of him; no, she had made her choice, and he would abide by her wishes. No one in the room moved, no one dared speak as the tension built higher, close to a breaking point. Her big brown eyes raked over his face wishing she could photograph and frame his expression, taking notice of an injury on his cheek, as if he had been scratched, the wounds fresh and reddened over his pale skin but she didn’t care much for it. It was the sudden change in his features that disturbed her, the way his eyes turned darker, manic almost, as if he had got exactly what he wanted from her, opening a door for him that she could not see. The dread that had accompanied her all morning spiked as his semblance obscured, almost as if she could smell danger in the air, but before it all sank in, he was gone in a wind whirl of brown, the flaps of his jacket ruffling as he walked down the hallway. - See you in court, Lon!

Henry’s smile could have lit up the entire building, no, the whole city, as she watched Lon leave before turning her body around. Ellen and Dick stared at the door for a few moments, shocked, the latter with his arms crossed over his chest in offense, before their eyes moved and settled on Avis’s form. She hoped this little stunt would keep him off her back for some time. There were too many things she had to worry about, and she couldn’t deal with him knocking on her door every five minutes to demand things from her.

-So, we are doing it? – oh, well, fuck. She sighed deeply, a hand travelling to her forehead to rub the skin as this pressure began to build behind her eyes, a headache developing. Her words had been clear as day, there was no room for mistakes or misunderstandings, no wonder the man had seemed so happy. She hated to burst his bubble, but it was obvious that she had misstepped, and needed to retreat back to what the conversation had been before Lon had so unexpectedly barged in.

-No, Henry, we are not doing it, I already told you this. The film is going to be cancelled.

-Then why the hell did you say that to Mr. Silver?!

-To get him off my case! You’ve seen him, you know how he behaves when he’s in here. I was not going to miss the chance to shut him up and get him off my back before he found out about the kidnapping as well. We can’t afford to lose more time than what we’ve already lost with this stupid argument!

-It’s not stupid! The studio has invested too much in Meg to just destroy it!

-And I have invested too much in what I have with Y/N to betray her and let her die! What would you do if the love of your life had a gun to her head, Henry? Would you let the executioner pull the trigger without putting up a fight? Wouldn’t you do anything to save them even if it hurt to give in?

-I… I… - he didn’t know what to answer to that. Avis’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears, making them look so big but so broken that something inside him seemed to crack. His mind had been so clouded by the ambition, the need to prove that the film could become his first great work, that he was worth the title of producer, that it had blinded him. They were right, a roll of film wasn’t worth the murder of innocent people, though he had to admit that hearing Avis declare herself before them all without caring about the open doors was not something he had imagined would ever happen. No one like Avis would ever do something of this sort unless her heart was involved somehow. The back of his knees hit the armrest of the couch, his body sitting on it gently as with his hands he rubbed his face before threading his fingers through his hair in defeat. Giving his back to the room he did not see how Ellen had stood and taken Avis by her hands, steading the woman, nor the way Dick rubbed her back and whispered to her in an attempt to calm her racing heart, one single tear rolling down her cheek. – I don’t know what I would do.

-You would try to find out who did it, - her voice was stern, hard in the delivery of each word, as if she was throwing them at Henry, but upon noticing his defeated stance her voice became gentler, though it didn’t lose that anger that seemed to be part of her at this point. She was just so tired. - but we don’t have that kind of time now, so you simply give them what they want.

-And even if we had time we wouldn’t even know where to start. Who is he? How does he know so much? Why is he doing all this?

-I already told you. -Dick moved away from both women, pouring himself a drink before heading back to the couch, glass resting on top of the leather after taking a sip. - It’s someone from the studio; there’s no other possibility.

-If that is so…

-Let me explain myself first, Ellen. – the woman nodded her head to let him continue, dropping the other woman’s hands to sit herself down after she had pointed at the couch with her head and her friend had shaken hers politely. After so many years Avis had realised that she could think better when she was in motion, her feet moving from side to side as she listened intently to what Dick had to say. Henry had perked up as well, looking over his shoulder. – It has to be someone who knows what’s going on with Ace, otherwise, they would not risk asking Avis to hand out the studio just like that. True that this doesn’t mean that they work here, but during the phone call that man said that he would know if we gave him the wrong film. He must have some way of watching it and some way of checking that we don’t have Meg anymore. Someone inside this building has access to the necessary equipment and to the vaults where the rolls as stored, but it can’t be some boy from the canteen or some script reader. The only logical answer that I can find is that the person who has Y/N and left those crosses is someone close to us who will gain everything he’s ever wanted by getting you, Avis, to cancel Meg and give him the company.

-That doesn’t leave that many people. Most of the crew working on the film don’t possess enough wit and power to even consider pulling such a stunt, so that leaves, us and Ace’s boys. We can’t consider some of our business partners because they haven’t called to inquire about any of this yet, so they might not know, besides, what would they do with a studio when they are lawyers and finance people?

With her eyes cast down towards the floor, she could not help feeling that Dick was right, that the answer was right in front of them, as if something was preventing her from figuring it all out, a piece of the puzzle missing from her sight and yet so close. The pads of her fingertips patted her lower lip, her left hand on her hip as she paced over the carpet with slow steps letting his words sink into her brain. If Dick was right and it was someone they knew, they might have given this man information willingly, from deep secrets about the studio to loopholes that they were using to make films at lesser costs, not to mention all the personal things they might have shared. And in all that she was not counting what Ace might have said to this unknown man. But the clock was still ticking, and they had to gather the film, and inform everyone that the picture was cancelled all while she still had to write a contract that some solicitor was willing to sign, twelve o’clock getting closer and closer faster than she wanted. The carpet was of a light beige tone, and it complemented the dark wood of the room beautifully, but that harmonious balance of colours was disturbed by a stain in the shape of a shoe. She grunted in disgust, crouching to get a better look at it, noticing that although it was dark there was a certain reddish tone to it. Her heart hammered against her ribs as with trembling hands the finger that had been around her hip touched the substance, wet on her skin.

It was recent. Coming to stand all the chatter that had filled the office dropped into a silence so deep that she could have heard a pin drop, curious looks falling on her body. Under the light of day that was coming from the window her fingers shone with a deep ruby tone, and upon sniffing the thick liquid her nose picked up the strong metallic essence that she knew so well. There was a blood stain on her carpet. In shock she took a couple of steps back, the emotion written all over her face as she kept her hand at a distance from her body. Dick and Henry took notice of the way Avis was holding herself and rushed to ask what was wrong, but she could not find the words to say it, simply pointing with crimson fingers at the stain. Oh, God, she had someone’s blood on her skin! Her frame shook, rushing to take a handkerchief out of her pocket and wipe her fingers as clean as she could. Her mind was working overtime now, thinking of who could have stepped in here with stained shoes, noting that neither Dick nor Henry’s were dirty in the slightest, but the footprint was clearly that of a man and the only other person that had set foot in this room all morning had been…

There was a spark in her synapsis, as if two loose cables had finally met. Of course, she knew what was behind all this, he had never been quiet about how much he hated her and how much he had wanted her out of his way, but to think he would reach this point to get what he wanted? She had suspected he was part of the KKK ever since he had voiced his disagreement at Ace hiring black people at the studio, the threats and disappearances that would happen soon after her husband dismissed his “worries”. It had been happening for years, and no one had taken notice because it hadn’t affected them, but he was escalating things now, and he wasn’t being subtle or quiet about it. In her head she replayed the entire conversation she had just had with him, analysing every detail, from the way he had carried himself to the delivery of each word, looking for anything that could confirm it was him and that she was not in the wrong here. His entire behaviour had turned so dark and dangerous after she had told him she was going to carry on with the film, a reaction she had not expected in the slightest when she was used to temper tantrums like him bursting out of the room or threats that he would speak to Ace. That entire act he had put on just now was that of a completely different person. Her body was shaking, remembering the way his tongue had tilted slightly when he had said the word “emotional”, the exact same way the voice on the phone had tilted his, and as the realisation sank in, she felt her knees grow weak and her legs give up on her, her body falling on top of the couch cushions.

She had been so sure she had heard that voice somewhere before, that she knew the man it belonged to, but to become aware that the person she had heard when the cloth had been removed from the receiver was him felt like a bucket of freezing water had been poured over her head. Everything and everyone were absolutely blurry around her, like the world was speeding while she remained still, frozen in time with her eyes glued to the redness she had not been able to wipe from her fingers. He had played her, and she had fallen straight into his trap. She had been an absolute fool to think that he had been treating her this way out of spite because Ace hadn’t left him in charge, when it was obvious he had been working slowly on this whole thing for years, gaining more power with each conversation he had with her husband until he had found the perfect opportunity to strike. With her out of the way, Meg cancelled and him as head of the studio, he only had one obstacle left that he could conveniently get rid of with one simple chat with Ace’s doctor. He had been meticulous, organizing and planning every step down to a t, but at the same time he had been messy, perhaps he had begun to get nervous and that had caused him to slip up, the simple detail of a stain on her carpet exactly where he had stood moments ago, shattering his perfectly crafted cover up.

There was no doubt in her mind. The cross was but a warning that something worse was coming, and as Dick and Henry pointed at the floor and told Ellen in serious voices that it was blood, the blond woman nearly fainting on the spot, Avis felt the weight of the words crushing her. He had your blood on his shoes, she had your blood on her fingers, wet and sticky over her skin. It was cold to the touch, yes, but it was recent, just like the scratches on his cheeks, meaning she might still have the chance and time to find you before the appointed time and in extent to not have to give in to this man’s demands. Without thinking about it twice she jumped off the couch, the sound making both men turn their heads away from the floor to look at the fury that burnt Avis’s whole body.

-I know who’s doing all this. – their expectant eyes bore holes into her body, but she didn’t care. Her hands had turned into fists, knuckles white while her face became red with rage, every word she said next spat with as much venom as she could muster from deep within her. – It’s been Lon fucking Silver all along.

-What? Are you sure, Avis? That’s a very serious actuation.

-I have never been so sure of anything in my life, Dick. That son of a bitch has my girlfriend somewhere in this city and I’m going to find her! I don’t care what it takes, but that man won’t see the light of day if I have a say in it. – she was going to fight this until her last breath, for you, for herself, for everyone in the studio and for her right to do whatever she desired in her own fucking house! She was even fighting for Ace at this point, regardless of the life they had had together, she wasn’t going to lose everything he had fought so hard to create to a man that had threatened their daughter. With her hand digging hard into the younger man’s arm she locked eyes with him. - Henry, I need you to find me a list of properties under Lon’s name, can you do that?

-I know a guy who owes me. Give me fifteen minutes and I can give you the homes of his parents and cousins as well.

-Get to it, then. – her steps were determined, hard against the floor, and she did not stop walking until she was standing behind her dark wooden desk, Henry dialling an unknown number. The sun shone from the window opposite the door, bright beams breaking through the glass and bathing her in the hot light, but she did not feel it. The rage and fury that was coursing through her veins and that consumed her every cell could match the fire of every star in the universe, her palms firmly pressed against the table as her eyes lifted forward to look at Ellen and Dick, their expressions serious. - Avis Amberg has just entered the playing field.

A droplet of water fell from the ceiling, its crystal surface reflecting the light of the flame as it flew slowly through the air. Another one followed soon after, it’s gentle surface tense as it fell. And another, all freezing to the touch, sliding easily down to the floor. The tapping rhythm danced around your ears, a comforting sound although, as your mind began to wake up, the feeling wasn’t so, slimy water running over your cheek, making it past your lips without touching them, but only barely. It didn’t feel as if you had been unconscious for too long this time, maybe your body was getting used to it, but soon it would reach a point from which you would not return. The light of the flame flickered in senseless shapes through your still-closed eyelids, casting shadows that you didn’t want to face. He might be hiding among them. But everything was quiet around you, there was no sign that he was still in the room or somewhere in the vicinity, only your ragged breathing and the tapping of the water droplets breaking the deafening silence. You could not decide if you preferred it this way. Trying to move brought on a wave of agony that sliced through every muscle and bone in your body, forcing you to stop what little you had done to catch your breath as tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. You felt weak, useless, and knowing that he had gone to talk with Avis, left a void of despair and worry that threatened to consume you, and you just didn’t have the strength to fight the dark. But as you turned your head, hissing at the way your shoulder and neck throbbed you saw it. Sunshine was coming through the ajar door.

Against your bruised ribs your heart raced, battling against your sternum for release as your eyes locked onto a ray of hope. He must have accidentally left it like that when he left. You didn’t know how long it would take him to get to the studio and back, but if you could get on your feet, you might have the chance to at least make out into the street or wherever you were. It might be your one and only chance, no matter the pain. The chair you were tied to proved to be a most inconvenient obstacle, but the knots that held the ropes in place around your wrists were too strong for you to try and release your hands from, so you would have to make do. Turning your body onto your right side would be the best option, you thought, even though that was the side where your dislocated shoulder was; a small price to pay for freedom. The first attempt left you panting and still on your back, cursing at the heaviness that had gathered in your limbs, but you weren’t going to give up. With your feet flat against the ground, or as flat as you could get them, and using your palms and elbows for leverage, you pushed against the concrete, your core contracting hard as you made use of your abs to give yourself the last needed thrust, meeting cold dirty floor against your cheek, your arm squashed under your bodyweight. Yes! But the victory was only in your mind for a second or two before a hot white fire spread from the tips of your fingers to the top of your head, making tears run down your cheeks in anguish and pain. The feeling left you completely drained, a scream wanting to escape from your chapped and bloodied lips, but you couldn’t draw any attention to yourself; you still weren’t sure he wasn’t around somewhere, and had to be very careful, which also meant quiet.

After a few moments of catching your breath, a dull pressure building underneath your lungs, the pain began to subside enough for your eyes to focus on the door. It was right there, maybe three or four feet from you, if you could only get up, the worst part would be over. You hadn’t noticed the way you were rolling in puddles of your own blood, the movements careless as they made wounds that had stopped bleeding hours ago begin to seep crimson hot liquid over your ruined dress and purple skin. The taste of metal was beginning to overwhelm your tongue as you swallowed what little saliva you were producing, reducing the soreness and dryness of your throat a little. Laying on your side you realised you wouldn’t be able to stand this way, your arm unable to be used as leverage, but your mind was working overtime against an invisible clock and the idea of laying on your front and trying to kneel didn’t seem so stupid after thinking about it for a moment. You wouldn’t be losing anything by trying. Slowly you pressed the side of your chest onto the ground, releasing your arm from under your body, and practically let the weight of the chair finish turning you around. This step had been the easiest of them all, but you could not stay like this for too long. As much as you needed the rest, the metal would end up crushing you, so after sending a prayer up to the heavens, your feet lay flat on the ground. The posture was weird, to say the least, but you weren’t being photographed by the New York Times, the only thing that mattered was getting your legs to cooperate and push your body into a sitting position, from then on standing would be child’s play.

But the chair pushed you back onto the concrete again and again, and the frustration and anger were beginning to rush through your body like lava, burning everything in its path. You had come so far, you finally had the life you had always wanted with the woman you had always dreamt of; you weren’t willing to let it all end like this, with a quick “I love you” screamed through a telephone without knowing if she was alright, if your death would even mean something to the world. It would not end this way! Adrenaline coursed through your veins and in a burst of anger, tears running down your bloodied cheeks, your legs pushed your entire body weight until they burnt, the pressure and pain in your stomach as you lifted yourself nearly making you vomit but alas you were sitting on the fucking chair facing the door through grunts and hurried pants. Your entire frame was shaking but you knew that if you stopped to breathe and calm yourself you were risking not being able to leave. The way your knees buckled as you stood, the chair forcing you to bend so you would be able to walk, nearly sent you back to the floor, but you would not allow it, and with each trembling step, the door came closer and closer until finally your eyes were able to make out a corridor bathed in warm sunlight through the crack. You could do it, if your foot slipped in between the door and the frame you might be able to push it open, but it was heavier than you thought, and the minutes passed as your legs bled and shook, your heart beating faster than ever.

You had come so far; you could not let some fucking door win. It screeched, the sound leaving a ringing in your ears, your knees and feet pushing it until at last you were able to get your left shoulder to help, delivering one final jab that allowed the hallway to come into view. The sudden burst of light inside the room forced your eyes to close for an instant, blinking slowly to adjust to it all. The walls were old, bare, except for the peeling wallpaper that left wooden beams exposed to the thick air that floated around you. The ceiling had cracks, plaster covered in black mold, and spots that marked heavy water damage, but the thing that your eyes searched for was right at the other end. A white door with a worn brass knob. Relief washed over you as through the glass you saw green trees, the pine scent almost reaching your nostrils, a weak but genuine smile creeping up on the corners of your lips. Taking one step, your bare feet felt the scratchiness of the old worn carpet, fragments of plaster and wood under your toes, but it didn’t matter. Another step and the door to a bathroom appeared to your right, tiles damaged and shattered in the darkness of the windowless room. And just as you were about to take a third step, the door less than six feet from you, the figure of a man covered the glass on the door, his brown suit visible through the cracks on the transparent glazing. Eyes watched in terror as the knob turned, and with a squeak, followed by a loud screech, you came face to face with him. For a split-second worry had covered his features, as if he had been deep in thought, but upon seeing you standing there, clearly trying to escape, it all became rage and fury, his hands slamming the door behind him as he removed his jacket. Your legs hardly responded as you tried to back away from him, but even if they had he was taller and gaining on you faster than you had anticipated, hands ready to grab you by the throat, his eyes manically wide while yours were filled with horror. The sound of your terrified “NO!” echoed throughout the forest.

But your love never heard it. Your pleas and tears never reached Avis, no matter how loud they were, she remained deaf to the noise that echoed miles away. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t feel it. Her heart jumped in her chest, a strange tingling spreading all throughout her body that told her they were running out of time, almost as if she could sense your pain and agony through her own blood, feel the danger you were in. The clock on the wall kept ticking with each passing second, and she was still no closer to finding you than before she had figured out who was doing all this, the dread beginning to cloud her judgment. She had half a mind to take her car and drive all along the train tracks until she found something, however little it may be that could take her to you.

-Why is it taking so long?! Henry!

-Avis, please, let the boy do his job.

The way her hands were holding onto the edge of the desk should have made the wood shatter, fingers purple and white, her eyes remaining glued to the younger man as he wrote on a notepad while talking to some guy called Jonathan. It had been a little bit over fifteen minutes, and the appointed time to meet Lon was barely an hour away. She needed to figure out where you were, and she needed to do it now! Ellen tried to sooth her, but her hands rubbing circles on the other woman’s hand served no purpose other than to make Avis even more anxious, wishing she would stop. Dick on the other hand knew better than to try and be comforting, he simply waited on the side, nursing his glass of gin, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention. Every nod from Henry, every twitch of his upper lip as his hands travelled over the paper before him, told a different story that Dick was reading. Henry was a resourceful man, he could not deny it, but he wondered how it had come to be so, why so many people owed him favours, and why he was always so ready for the payback that would soon follow.

-Make sure that no one finds out about this. See you around, John– placing the receiver back in place, Henry stood from the chair with a triumphant smile on his face, dangling the pad in his hand as if he was holding onto a fucking Oscar. Avis tried to grab it, but he pulled it back, the woman about to bark at him only to see Dick making his way towards the boy and taking it, eyes reading the addresses provided. The young man didn’t bother asking for it back, even if she was murdering him with her eyes. –Lon has three houses here in Hollywood, one near his office, another near the studio, that apparently, he’s been furnishing lately, and another that he’s renting to some couple from Missouri that’s close to Santa Monica Boulevard.

-None of those places have train stations or train tracks near them! I know what I heard, and I know I’m not wrong. It’s him! He must be using someone else’s place.

-If you let me finish, – she gave him a hard glare but let him continue, nevertheless. This was still an opportunity for him, she knew that she would owe him in the future, and she wouldn’t be able to say no to whatever he demanded, but if it saved your life, she would do it, as frustrating as it would be. She hated debts, and Henry could be a snake when he wanted to, a fact he was both aware and proud of. - John told me that Lon’s parents bought a property, about fifteen years ago, perhaps a mile south of Hollywood Station. It was supposed to be a retirements home, but they never remodelled it, so it’s been sitting there half-demolished since they signed the deed.

-Where exactly? -she could recall Ace having a map of the city somewhere around his desk. He had shown it to her several times when they had discussed possible placements for their house before they had decided to buy and then renovate, or when arguing about which hotels to consider when housing foreign actors or producers. Her hands pulled drawer after drawer open, rummaging through contracts and scripts that she should have thrown away weeks ago, pens and pencil stabbing her fingers as she crumpled the papers underneath them. There were rubber bands and staplers, along with clips and other nonsense, scattered in between ink bottles that she threw onto the desk carelessly in her attempt to find the goddam thing. But it was Ellen, after Avis had squatted to open a drawer, removing about three folders and causing the documents to nearly spill onto the floor, who saw the colourful corner of a leaflet and quickly pulled on it. It read “Map of Hollywood City” in big bold white letters, and she hurriedly laid it on top of everything else while exclaiming that she had found it. At the sound Avis’s hand slammed the drawer closed and pulled herself to her full height, helping the blond unfold the huge map. All four of them hovered over the desk, but it was Henry’s hands the only ones who moved over the laminated paper.

-The train Station is right here. – he pointed at a mark close to the lower left corner. -If we travel down east for a mile or so, we get to “Ruben’s Road”. So, if we head south for maybe half a mile, about six hundred feet from the train tracks, we should find a house. Exactly in this spot. – his thin fingers hovered over the drawing of a house, alone on the edge of the woods with cursive blue writing underneath that read “Silver Cottage”. It had to be there; her eyes could not find a single other mark, all throughout the forest’s edge, that was close enough to the tracks that might make the train sound as loudly as she had heard it through the phone, and that could suggest another possible area he could have taken you to. Lifting her gaze, she smiled at Henry, but only briefly before her entire demeanour became cold, determine to get to the end of the line with this matter, her deep brown eyes filled with anticipation and resolve as they fell onto the other man’s frame. His face was concentrated on the plan ahead.

-Gather the boys, Dick, and meet me at the cottage. – she could count on him to have her back. He knew his way around guns, he had fought in the First World War; she trusted him with her life, and yours for that matter. It was a surprise though to see Henry following him out of the office so willingly, so ready to fight, but then again if everything went according to plan the film wouldn’t be cancelled and he wouldn’t lose his position as a producer. This was business for him still, but she couldn’t find it in her racing heart to care. Just as they were rounding the corner Avis raised her voice, making sure they heard her before turning all her attention back to the map. - And make sure they don’t go empty-handed!

-Wait a moment, Avis. Shouldn’t we call the police about this?

-Do you think that someone like Lon wouldn’t have friends in the Police Department, Ellen? – if she took 10th street from her house and swerved around Victoria park to go down Marie Avenues, she could get down to the station in less than five minutes, her fingers tracing the journey over the paper. - If we call, we might risk telling them about what we know, and for our plan to get to him in the first place. It would be the perfect opportunity for him to kill Y/N, and we might spend hours waiting to hear good news when in fact they’ve done nothing but cover up for him. – her eyes lifted from the desk to look at the blond, her hands trying to fold the map the best she could. - I understand that this might be too much for you, but I’m not going to sit and wait.

-But this is dangerous. We’ve never done something like this before.

-Which is why I’m giving you the choice of coming with me or staying. You don’t have to get involved more than you already are, but you are my friend, and I know that you care about Y/N, as well. I don’t want to do this alone.

Avis’s palm lay outstretched before Ellen. Rage seeped from every pore of the ginger’s body, to be fair she hadn’t felt anything else all morning, and that was fuelling most of the adrenaline that was to be blamed for what was going on, but she was also terrified, absolutely terror-stricken and she feared that the moment she got to the house, she would be left petrified in her seat, unable to do anything but hear your screams. She needed Ellen to hold her together until the very end. To say that the blond wasn’t conflicted would be an understatement, but she knew Avis, and the woman never asked for help; too proud, too hurt to do so most of the time, but knowing that even without wording it that way, she was simply asking her to be there, meant the world to Ellen. Avis had been there for her when her husband had passed, they had shared countless conversations, and evenings at each other’s place. They had cried and laughed and got absolutely smashed once or twice without a care in the world. They were sisters even if they didn’t share the same blood, and that was far more important to her than what Lon might do. She couldn’t abandon her friend now that she needed her. Her hands were sweaty, but she took Avis’s in hers, squeezing hard, a small tender smile ghosting her thin lips.

A weight had been lifted of the ginger’s shoulders, the way her entire frame breathed in relief at the feeling of Ellen’s palm on hers, speaking more than a thousand words could ever do. Now that they were on the same line, Avis grabbed her purse and walked out of the office with quick steps, pulling on Ellen’s hand. The blond was smart though and held onto the map, just in case, before letting herself be dragged along. Miss Stinton protested about meetings and what not, but neither of them listened as they rushed to the lift, the doors conveniently opening just as Avis pressed the button, wishing the contraption would move faster to the ground floor. Ace didn’t keep guns at the studio, he used to say that he liked to keep that sort of thing at home, where he might actually need them, and she had hated that so viscerally that she had thought about getting rid of them more than once and more than twice just to spite him. Now, as doors of the lift chimed open, she was glad she hadn’t, letting go of Ellen’s hand to take the keys to her Cadillac out of her purse, the blond pushing the doors open for the other woman to step through. She knew exactly which of the several models Ace kept at the mansion she was going to choose to face Lon, and she just happened to be handy with it.

She might not look like it, but when she had been little her father had taught her how to shoot, and she had been fucking brilliant, she just didn’t get into the habit of using them as she grew older. The car was intact, waiting patiently for her at the parking lot, and as both ladies settled on their respective seats, Avis saw Jack rushing to one of the other buildings through the rearview mirror, his countenance serious. Dick would have them all ready by the time she was out of the house. Turning the engine on and pulling out of the parking lot she stepped on the gas, the mob that was still gathered outside by the gates having to rush to the sides so as not to get run over, though she didn’t think it would be much of a loss. Ellen, the poor woman held onto the door, sliding over the leather whenever Avis made a turn or took a corner, wondering if she had made the right choice, but it was too late to back down now, the only thing she could see in her friends being fire. Swerving on her street, the car nearly landing on two of its wheels at the corner, Avis practically burst through the gates of her house, the old Mr. Breaton pushing them open as fast as his legs would allow all while Ellen screamed at her to be more careful or she would get them both killed. Bit overdramatic, it wasn’t as if she was driving down the freeway at 80 mph or something like that. Pulling on the hand break hard once the car was stationed before her front door, Avis worked quickly on getting out, looking for her keys, telling Ellen to wait for her and that she would only be a minute.

Like magic Gertie opened the doors, just at the right moment as well, the woman having heard the commotion and fearing that something like the nightly incident might be occurring again, but it was only her employer. Her perfectly coiffed hair was in slight disarray, a curl falling gently on the side of her head, bouncing with each rushed step she took towards her husband’s office, the wooden doors slamming against the walls. The sound didn’t bother her, but it did make Gertie jump on the spot, as her employer quickly pulled a small key from the first drawer on the left of Ace’s oak desk and hurriedly used it on a trunk under the windowsill. It was a beautiful work of art, in the words of her deceased father, and right now she could understand why. Her husband was not one to hunt, but he did like to have the necessary equipment, and the newest member of his collection was a gorgeous Ithaca shotgun, model 37 to be exact, that had never been shot since its purchase. Picking it up and feeling the heaviness of the weapon, she thought that getting rid of Lon might be a perfect way to christen, the comb and forearm, made out of a beautiful dark wood, smooth under the touch of her fingertips.

There was no ammunition inside it, a safety precaution she had demanded Ace follow, but the box of bullets was right there, in the right bottom corner. Grabbing it she was making her way out the doors when her eyes caught a glimpse of the revolver. What they were going to do was dangerous, and Ellen wasn’t one to have weapons in her purse, so she picked it up just to be safe. Gertie had asked once what was happening and after not receiving an answer retreated to the kitchen, but the sight of Avis with a shotgun wasn’t a usual occurrence in that house, filling her up with worry. Rushing back to the front doors and slamming them close with her foot, to the best extent she could, she sat back inside her Cadillac, the engine still running, and handed everything to Ellen as she shifted into first gear and once again sped down her road towards 10th street just as she had planned back at the studio. The blond’s eyes could have popped out of her skull from how side they were looking at the weapons.

-Oh my God, Avis! You are not planning on going in there with two guns, are you?!

-Of course not! I need both hands for the shotgun, the revolver is for you.

-What?! I don’t know how to use it!

-I know, and I most certainly hope you don’t have to, but I can’t let you go without protection. We don’t know if it’s going to be just Lon or if there’s going to be twenty men in there, I need to know that you’ll be somehow safe. Just trust me, Ellen.

What other option did she have?! This was all insane, but when didn’t things turn crazy where the KKK was involved? The journey to the Station was just as crazy as the one to her house, but now Ellen had no way of holding onto the door so she wouldn’t slide from side to side, the boxes of ammunition slipping from her fingers every few seconds. The grip Avis had on the steering wheel left her knuckles white, painfully digging into the stiches. She knew she was right; she was sure that’s where that slimy son of a bitch had you, but she could not help the doubts that assaulted her mind. If she was wrong, the real culprit would still be roaming free without any of them being even an inch closer to finding out who he was, and he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you once he found out she hadn’t answered any of his demands. She had no way of confirming any of it except for a gut feeling, a hunch. She hoped it was enough. At this time in the morning, the roads weren’t as empty as she had hoped for, and a couple of times cars honked as she manoeuvred and cut them off, but she couldn’t give two fucks. Approaching the station, the paths made out of cobblestones caused the car to rise and fall with each little bump, though they only had to suffer it for a minute or two, until they could head East near the gates. Avis was more careful in this part of the journey, knowing that the suspension of her car didn’t do well on roads like this one, a fact Ellen was most appreciative of, wondering just how dishevelled she looked.

It was a secondary road the one that appeared to head East, a dirty path that lifted a cloud of dust as the car drove over it. Henry had said for a mile and then she had to turn south. She felt a pressure on her chest, her breaths fast now that she was lifting her foot off the accelerator, controlling the vehicle as it moved over the rocks and stones that graced the ground under her car. Every beat of her heart felt as if rocks were falling over her shoulders, weighing her down, worry and fear overtaking part of the fury she was feeling, but she would carry on, there was no other option but for you to make it out alive. The car began to slow down as Avis’s thoughts took over, knowing that she should have put up a bigger fight last night, that she should have convinced you to stay no matter what you had said but honesty and respect were the bases of your relationship, and she hadn’t wanted to pressure you. It would have been easier if she had behaved like a bitch and had held onto you, not caring what you said or what you desired, just followed her instinct. If you died, she would never stop blaming herself. Ever. Turning South for half a mile, both ladies held their breaths as the trees began to separate more and more from each other, bringing forth a clearing where a broken-down fence circled the area where the house should be. This was it; they thought. Avis hadn’t reached the end of the road when she was turning the engine off and pulling on the hand brake, Ellen glancing her way with a questioning look.

-We’ll have to walk; I don’t want him to know we are here.

-Shouldn’t we wait for Dick and the others?

-We might not have that kind of time. We’ll check out the premises and if there’s no sign of people, or at least no sign of them being too many, we’ll go in.

-Are you sure, Avis? They might be armed as well.

-We only get one life, one chance at doing what matters, and I’m not letting her die. You can stay in the car if you’d rather wait for Dick. I would understand.

-No. I’m not letting you do this on your own. You are my friend, maybe even a sister, I’m not ditching you now.

Words hurt the same way a dagger slicing through one’s flesh could, but when said in all honestly, love and compromise enfolding them like a blanket, they could act as balm for a broken heart, soothing doubts and worries that were clearly overtaking Avis’s mind. No matter the outcome, she wouldn’t face it alone. Her hand squeezed Ellen’s softly, a kind smile painting her lips as a thank you, maybe as a farewell should they not make it, the other woman returning it just as tenderly. Determined to bring this all to an end, Avis opened her door and stepped out into the forest, her heels crushing twigs and seeds as she rounded the hood to open Ellen’s, picking up the shotgun and the bullets to let her slip out of her seat. She was not heading down the path without a loaded gun, and neither was her friend, but the blond didn’t seem to think it was necessary and she had to shoot out a hand to hold her still, handing her the revolver ammunition. Loading a shotgun was relatively easy, at least with this model. Avis only had to push the ammunition into the receiver until she heard a click before pushing the next bullet in and so on until the barrel was full, ready for her to pump the gun. Ellen didn’t think it was that simple, struggling for a few moments to open the loading gate of the revolver, but soon enough she figured out how the weapon worked, or at least the basics, and just as Avis had finished pushing the last bullet inside her weapon, Ellen was done cocking hers.

Their movements over the grass were meticulous, delivered in a perfect dance of careful steps and quiet whispers, Avis ahead. The edge of the forest got closer and closer, not a sound in the warm air around them, not even birds flying over their heads. That was already a bad sign. Coming up to the last line of trees Avis got the first glimpse at the house, perhaps about sixty feet away, and in her most humble opinion it was a miracle it was still standing. The roof had caved in by the falling of a branch, most of the windows were shattered, and the beams and insulation were out for the elements to affect them. In truth, it was the perfect spot to bring someone to; not a soul would dare set foot in that hazard of a house. The garden, overgrown with weeds, showed no signs of anyone having come to visit in years, except for the car that was now parked on the side, a black Lincoln that she knew for a fact belonged to Lon. They crossed the ruined fenced, plants crushed under their shoes until the set foot on an overworn stone path that led to the front door, the glass glazing shattered, missing some pieces that were probably lost through the yellow weeds. Each breath Avis took was held in her lungs for longer than was necessary, her heart beating so hard and fast that she could hear her blood pumping in her ears, hands slightly clammy around the comb and the forearm of her shotgun, muzzle pointing down at the ground. Her entire world could change in less than a second the instant she walked through that door, but she didn’t know if she could do it. She couldn’t hear a sound, that might mean you were…

Ellen’s hand did it for her. With surprised eyes Avis stared as her friend pushed it open, not a squeak or scratch coming from the old wood, a small win for them as their presence remained unknown. The ginger’s heel was the first thing to come into contact with the inside of the house, the musky odour of a closed-up home and ever-growing mold overwhelming her senses, but she pushed through. Each step was quiet, almost tippytoeing over the dirty carpet, taking in the state of the property as her ears perked up, capturing a faint noise, like a whimper. Upon hearing this she stood still, holding up her hand for Ellen to halt her movements as well, hardy breathing in hopes of hearing it again. Yes, there was a whimper coming from some room ahead, and she knew it was you who was making it. She could recognise your voice even if her head was underwater. She stopped being careful right then, her steps hard against the creaking wood as she came to terms with the fact that there was no one else in that house except for you and maybe Lon. Ellen tried to warn her with hushed words but to no avail; Avis was seeing red. Close to the end of the hallway was the entrance to a bathroom and a bit further down a metal door that was completely shut, but even through the thick material she could hear the voice of a man saying that he was going to gut you open, your whines and pleas quietly sounding in the background. Over her dead fucking body! Pointing the muzzle towards the lock, Avis pumped it hard and without warning pulled the trigger. It was as if a bomb had gone off, a scream escaping Ellen at the sudden noise, but it had served its purpose, and the door was now slightly open. Pushing it with her foot Avis came face to face with your battered body on the floor, a chair lying in a corner, and Lon standing over you with a cane raised in the air, his small beady eyes watching her with a terrified veil falling over them.

-Ding Dong, motherfucker. – she pumped her shotgun to make her point clear to him.

-What…? How…?

-Shut up! Drop the cane and take one step away from Y/N or I swear to everything in this fucking universe that I’ll blow your head off. – squatting slowly to the ground, he left the weapon on the concrete, raising his arms high in the air before doing what told, his back barely two feet away from the damp wall. His eyes never left her form, terror making him shake on his spot. – You thought you could play me? You don’t know who you are messing with.

-Please, Avis…

-Do I need to repeat myself?! SHUT UP! I don’t care about your excuses; I don’t care for anything you might have to say. You dug your grave, Lon; I think I’ll put you in it.

-Avis, Dick is here.

-Don’t move an inch, Lon. I’m feeling trigger-happy. – Avis turned her head to the doorway, purposely refusing to look at you in fear that your state might make her buckle in her resolution to end him, that it might make her weak for a moment and he would take the opportunity to fight her for the gun. Ellen’s eyes weren’t on her though, and that made her heart clench in grief at the thought of how you might look, but she remained strong and addressed the blond. – Go get him and take Y/N out to the car. – the woman, as petite as she was, run fast even in high heels. As Avis’s eyes returned to Lon, she saw the splatters of blood that stained his shirt, the way his hands were bathed in the crimson liquid, dripping down his arms and staining his cuffs. She was finding it increasingly difficult to not kill him right there and then. – You thought you were so smart that I wouldn’t find out? You messed with my family, I would have figured out it was you in the end, no matter how long it would have taken.

-You don’t understand.

-I don’t understand?! You kidnapped an innocent woman, beat her close to death, lied to my face, and you still think you are in a position to tell me I don’t understand?! Who do you think you are?!

He remained silent, trembling against the wall. He had been caught; he couldn’t get out of this one. What had happened? He had never failed before, he had never made a mistake and yet here he was, with a gun to his head for the first time since joining the group. He was supposed to be the one threatening and intimidating people, not her, he was supposed to be the superior being, how had she outsmarted him?! Dick and Ellen rushed down the corridor and quickly made their way inside the room past Avis, picking you up as gently as they could. Your entire world had shrunk to the size of your broken body, nothing that was going on around you being registered by your abused mind anymore, the only thing you could feel and think about was the agony you were in. Caring hands lifted you off the cold floor and for an instant you wondered if your time had come, angels taking you to the heavens. You wanted to see their kind faces, you didn’t want to die with the sight of Lon engraved in your head, but upon cracking them open, the action exhausting, you saw two people you knew very well, and then in the background was her. Avis was alright, she wasn’t hurt in any way, her face perfect still with her rosy cheeks and plump red lips, those big deep brown eyes turning to look at you, filled with rage that wasn’t yours to worry about. A lopsided smile broke from your lips at the sight of your love, every horrible thing that he had done to you vanishing into the ether as you let the love that filled her eyes wrap around you. Everything would be alright now, was your last thought before the world turned black. Ellen and Dick did their job and took you out of the house and into Avis’s Cadillac, checking your pulse. Avis did not move from her spot though.

-How does it feel to be cornered Lon? Do you like the way fear can overtake one’s mind this quickly?

-How?

-You made a mistake, as simple as that. You thought you were being so careful, so meticulous. I must admit you almost had me there, but like always, I’m one step ahead.

-This is not over. I might not have succeeded this time, but I sure as Hell will the next one.

-You think you are going to have a next one? Not a chance. You tried to destroy my and my husband’s entire work; you terrified my daughter and nearly killed my girlfriend. How can you still think you will have a next time?

-Because we always win. – he jumped towards her, his hands raised to grab her weapon, but she was quick, and the trigger just felt so soft under her finger. The sound of the bullet ejecting from the gun echoed inside the room as well as the outside of the house, heads lifting in worry at it, but Avis was completely uninjured. Lon, though, he was holding onto his shattered leg, screaming in agony as blood and shards of bone fell over the dirty ground, his body colliding heavily against the concrete.

-Not today, you son of a bitch. I have worked too fucking hard for everything that I have, and I won’t let you or anyone take it from me. So better get used to the idea of Meg, because I will invest every ounce of my time and money to make it the best film in the fucking world. And Archie and Camille will be on contract until my very last day as head of the studio. Because it’s mine, not yours. Mine.

-Ace… won’t let you…

-Ace will fire you, if not kill you himself, the moment he finds out about your little stunt. You don’t know who you’ve messed with, but I will make sure you don’t forget. I’ve got friends too Lon, and they are not happy about this at all.

-You can’t… Ahhhh…

-I can’t what, Lon? Kill you? Speak up!

-He won’t… believe you. He’s never cared.

-That might be so, but he will believe Dick. And his daughter. You see? I’m always one step ahead. Any last words? – she was growing tired of this whole conversation, as thriving and delicious as it was to have him under her thumb like this. She pumped the shotgun again, the last bullet she had inside the weapon, drinking in the way his eyes filled with terror, mumbling quickly, pleading to her.

-Wait, wait! Please!

-Being this emotional is not letting you think clearly, Lon. There is no room for mercy in me, there never was and there never will be.

-Please, don’t! I could… help you… I could do something…

-Don’t beg, it doesn’t suit you. I don’t want anything that you might have to offer; that boat sailed the moment you kidnapped Y/N. You are lucky I’ve let you live this long. You don’t know how much I wanted to put a bullet through your eyebrows the instant I set foot in here, but I didn’t want Y/N to suffer anymore. But now that it’s only us I can do what I desire the most. I hope you get what you deserve in Hell. - In a cloud of smoke, the last bullet pierced through the air, until it lodged itself in the middle of his chest, blood pouring over his white shirt by the pint, thin trickles running down his nose and from the corners of his mouth. He spat and gurgled, trying to cover up his wound with his hands, but it was futile. She held her head high and took in the way the light seemed to be dimming in his eyes. – Remember this, Lon. I’m Avis fucking Amberg and I just beat you at your own game.

It was over, at last. Adrenaline rushed through her entire body at the speed of light, the exhilaration that came with a job well done, mixing with the unexpected wave of guilt and terror at what she had done. Her steps as she walked down the hallway were unsteady, clumsy over the debris that had accumulated over the years, and for a moment, she had to stop and hold herself up by placing a hand on the crumbling wall. She felt sick to her stomach, her entire frame shaking as the noises he had been making turned into silence, a wave of cold air coming through the broken windows. She had never, in her entire life considered herself to be a violent woman. Yes, she was temperamental, but she had never raised a hand to a single soul, not even to Claire when she had been little and misbehaved, and to have the image of a dead man, a man she had killed, engraved in her mind was like a punch to her gut. She had never wanted this, she wasn’t like this, but the most primeval part of herself, the part that needed to ensure the safety of her family, had taken over not thinking about the consequences, just that she needed to find you and protect you. Part of her mind was telling her that she should have handled it differently, she was an orator, not a gangster, but the other half, the louder one, was telling her she had done the right thing, that she had to kill him. She couldn’t risk letting him go, even if he was injured, thinking that the matter was closed only for everything to happen again in a few months’ time. With him gone no one would hurt them anymore, all the threats would be empty words, and the studio would carry on as if nothing had happened. It had to be done, she kept thinking to herself, you would never be safe otherwise and that simple fact lessened the burden of her actions. Actions that she swore to the Heavens and herself she would never repeat again. With one last glance towards the metal door, she carried on walking down the hallway and out into the warm midday sun. Ellen ran to meet her, wrapping her arms around her body in a strong hug. She hadn’t realised how much she needed that until she felt her breath shaking as a lump formed in her throat, preventing her from speaking, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. The blond held her for a minute or so, feeling Avis’s trembling limbs trying to wrap themselves around her small waist in search of comfort. Hearing the shots all the way from in between the trees, had had her losing her mind, Dick holding her in place and telling her that you needed her more than Avis did to prevent her from running back to the house. But she had anyway, and just at the right time to see her walking out of there without a scratch on her body.

The relief was monumental. But there was a more pressing matter to attend to, and the blond was quick in dragging Avis back to her car, Dick’s and Ernie’s parked right behind it. He really had brought the cavalry, Avis thought. The world had crumbled when she had first heard your voice through the phone, now it had combusted and turned into ashes as she laid eyes on your poor battered body. There was not an inch that wasn’t purple or injured in some way, your once beautiful dress now drenched in red. She felt faint, and her knees didn’t support her weight at the sight of you, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. You looked so small, so vulnerable, and it clawed at her heart so deeply that tears began to fall down her cheeks, the shotgun lying over the grass beside the car, forgotten. Nothing in her entire life had ever hurt like this. These feelings were crushing her, deafening, muting and blinding her in a never-ending wave of sorrow and anguish that was taking hold of her. She had caused this, you were lying here shattered to pieces because of her, and it was that thought the one that she couldn’t get over. With her hand pushing your hair gently off your face, she touched your still-soft flesh, but it was colder under her fingertips. God, she could not bear to lose you. Dick’s voice came from behind her, reaching her ears in slow motion as she cried over your unconscious frame, tears falling and losing themselves among your locks of hair.

-She’s still alive, but she needs a hospital, Avis.

#avis amberg #avis amberg x reader #patti lupone x reader #patti lupone #lilia calderu #lilia x reader #we thank miss lupone simply for existing #hollywood 2020

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planetkiimchi-rbs · 5 months ago

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“i’m guessing you want to talk about it, after all.”

aww the dynamic yn has w namjoon :(

others describe his movement as of cranes, standing in the middle of a pond as they do their best to minimize forming any ripples, or of elephants, swaying their trunks with control like no other. but he’s a versatile dancer; nothing can truly capture him.

i fucking LOVE dancers, even if i don’t stan zb1 there’s a sense of kinship w sung hanbin that i can’t quite explain

then, limbs whose color resembles the void slither their way to your heart, wrapping around it while the organ struggles to beat; it’s a slow process but an unending hole that will birth from it. yet, you do your best to fight off these limbs, unraveling them one by one in hopes it will give up—until you settle for shaking them off.

ah </3 family issues…

they knew all of his hardships—you only know a fraction.

i’m sorry for ever trying to write an idol au, sorry for ever picking up a pen to write. i probably can’t write anything original for a month or so because anything i try to write will definitely just be (poorly) trying to emulate this fic

but your finger trap with hanbin was different. maybe it was already ripped to its seams.

had to look up finger traps bc i didn’t know what they were but GOSH i really really love all your metaphors

fav lines:

you and hanbin were once painted with the hues of the sun. this reunion is tainted with blue.

“you’re—” captivating. “you’ve improved a lot.”

if you miss home, why is your first instinct to run away from it?

WHAT THE FUCK. these lines ???? are you trying to rip my heart out or what ????

and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheonan—

but summer is where mouths go dry and clothes cling to skin.

what an honor it is to have known him for even a fraction of your lifetime.

in your house, your room was the only space you called home. solace built by you. now, your home is hanbin.

overall thoughts:

noo cuz im actually in love with authors putting actual pictures in their fics like yes !!! i want to know what the notebook page looks like !!!! i want to see what handwriting you think the character has !!!

ok wait im actually speechless this is one of the best fics i’ve read in a long time, i genuinely haven’t found something that i’ve enjoyed half as much as this. and usually im trying my best to find specific lines i like to tell the author how much i liked their fic but with this fic i can’t choose because it’s so interspersed with dialogue and so beautifully woven together? i can’t possible copy the whole fic down for my comments but…. i love all the tension and little pauses and yn’s ramblings. so poetic.

trying to articulate my thoughts again, i love how you wrote yn’s family issues and how yn has mr kim as a kind of grandfather figure and how much fun they’re having… idk it’s very interesting and beautiful to read.

also playlist is very well curated, i feel like all the songs really fit this fic.

i like the vast amounts of metaphors used instead of directly talking about how yn is feeling, they’re very apt. (i love the pearl walls with black leaking through metaphor bc it also aligns w the black arms that threaten yn,, chef’s kiss)

i can’t believe we ended with no closure… open endings break my heart bc im a sucker for happily ever afters. but this was much needed and beautifully written angst.

finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ sung hanbin

sung hanbin x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and hanbin relive the memories of cheonan—and confront what could’ve been between you two.

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, gender neutral reader, some depressive and insecure thoughts, hurt/comfort, the last five years story-telling method (aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward... i hope that makes sense), brief mention of blood from picking on your skin, tiger parents so... parental issues, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, jealousy remains but love triumphs, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and hanbin is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ 15.6k words

playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won't work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by reneé rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth

a/n ➵ it's finally out! this work is so so personal to me on so many levels so i hope you all love and treat this fic with care :')) for the bitches who struggle with parents and dreams.... this one's for you (i am in the same boat) i appreciate everyone who's been so patient and looking forward to this fic's release. please do reblog and leave feedback!!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

present -> three weeks after the interview, 2024

the newsroom never sleeps. the rings of landlines and clacks of keyboards bounce off the four walls. through light bulbs or sunshine, light continues to remain. and at every corner, a journalist stands—ready to enter the depths of slumber but remain on their toes as they await for an update on their unraveling story.

but the newsroom is rarely busy unless there’s a major nationwide event, election season or the super bowl to name a few, for most journalists are out to discover what the world has to offer.

knowledge doesn’t only come from the chitchat of your coworkers. it’s only on the field that you’ll hear of hearsay and testimonies. after all, the choice to probe rests on your shoulders.

“there’s a typo over there.”

“huh? where?”

“over here,” you mumble as your finger darts to point at a section on the screen. “it’s supposed to say “with the climactic finale of boys planet,” not climatic.”

“ah, i see it now. sorry about that,” lee jihoon of digital development says as he corrects the error. his hair is disheveled from the hood that once perched on his head during the night he spent in the newsroom. you would’ve scolded the guy—go home and take a shower before you stink up the place—but you are no better, grouped with the other journalists who stayed up in the office.

“there we go. should be all good. now, are you ready to go through the profiles?”

an exhausted chuckle departs from your lips. “yeah, let’s go—”

“what’s the update?” life and arts editor kim namjoon—your editor—comes to you with a smile.

the grey hoodie he wears paired with comfortable jeans shows that he’s a little relaxed. for once, you don’t see him on his phone, battling the deadlines or getting pitched stories by the other editors. it’s a nice sight but one that won’t last for long.

“we just finished going through the article about the group, so we still have yet to go through the profiles.” jihoon then looks at you. “i can’t believe you basically wrote 10 articles. like, nine profiles and one main article is a lot. you didn’t want to work on it with anyone else?”

once namjoon stands beside you, you bump your shoulder against his figure. “i didn’t have a choice, did i?” it’s a rhetorical question but one your editor still chooses to answer.

“unfortunately, we’re understaffed, but it seemed like you got the hang of it. i wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to do it.” namjoon shoots you a smile before redirecting his attention back to jihoon. “and as much as i’d love to tell y/n more, we have to pick up the pace.” without any further questions, the three of you resume with work.

there’s no time to waste in the journalism industry. still, his praise doesn’t go unnoticed.

one article turned into eight done in a matter of 30 minutes, all with the help of three pairs of eyes to go through them. (namjoon seemed to carry the heavy lifting. after all, the guy was trained to be quick in reading and spotting errors.)

it should’ve been easy to keep up with your editor for all the other articles; you know each profile like the back of your hand.

then, the face of a boy who you once knew sits on the screen.

his gaze seems to pierce through your soul, almost in the same way you last talked to him. the loose ends of composure slip through your fingers; your breath’s stuck in your throat as the hammering of your heart fills your ears. yet, he stands still on the monitor.

as your eyes drift through the passages you’ve written, every sound is drowned out. the voice of your editor fades like the everchanging seasons and the clicks of the keyboard resemble the sobs you let out in the comfort of your childhood room.

and suddenly, the hands of the clock have turned all the way back to 2017. the cubicles transformed into aisles of chips and instant ramen, and you hear mr. kim’s voice in the distance—i have some hotteok! fresh from the pan! but amidst it all, you hear the giggles of the boy, your best friend, as he rushes towards you—i’ll go audition and make you proud. as your arm is wrapped with the heat of his fingers, you almost believe that your life as a journalist is nothing but a dream—

“i knew him.” the illusion disappears within a blink of an eye. namjoon’s eyes snap towards you and jihoon stops scrolling through the website. “we went to the same high school.”

you aren’t sure why you revealed that to your coworkers, let alone your boss. it’s an old memory—your weight to carry. before you can apologize for disrupting their work, namjoon’s hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb drawing shapes into it. when you look over at him, you’re greeted by his smile. it resembles your bed after a long day of work or a slow day at the newsroom.

but it never lives up to him, whose giggles resemble nature’s symphonies. the two shots of espresso you need at the start of the day once came in the form of his warm embrace. most of all, his smile is enough to illuminate the world even through the strongest storms and times when power went out.

for the remaining articles, not a single word leaves you. before you know it, all 10 articles were ready to go up on the web.

“that’s all of it. should i still schedule them to go up around 12 p.m.?” jihoon notes as he saves the drafts.

“yeah, 12 p.m. still sounds good. thanks a lot.” namjoon nudges his shoulder before looking over to you. “let’s talk in my office.”

you don’t question his orders. once namjoon takes off, you follow him all the way to his office. as he swings the door open, you are met with the familiar sight of his workspace. hues of green and brown mix, where nature and art meet within the space of corporate.

once namjoon takes a seat on his chair, you find your spot across from him. his eyes stare off to the window. for a moment, you’re not sure what to expect from this impromptu meeting.

seconds pass and not a single word has been said—

“this place’s always alive,” your editor breaks the silence. “don’t you think so?”

you follow his line of sight. busy seoul never changes; the skyscrapers pollute the sky and the people never sleep, off to work or off to party.

“where’d you grow up again?”

you look back at namjoon whose eyes still remain locked on the city. “cheonan.”

he hums. “i haven’t been there. nice place?”

“yeah, but i haven’t gone back in a while.”

“when was the last time?” his eyes finally meet yours.

your teeth grasp the inside of your cheek. “2017, since i first left,” you admit.

“do you miss it?”

you’re not sure how to answer. the pavements you’ve scraped your knees against and the walls your laughs bounced off of—do you miss them all? or is the reason behind your laughter and scabs the one you long for?

“is that why you were hesitant about interviewing them?” namjoon’s thumbs fiddle with each other. “because of your history with him?”

now, you stare at your linked hands. maybe the silence from you is enough to answer his question but you know namjoon would never settle for a soundless answer.

“i—i’m not a good person. and even if i didn’t make the choice to leave, i—” you hold yourself back. your fingers start to pick on the skin around your thumbs, peeling it so blood can spill.

“it’s okay, i understand. you don’t have to share it with me.” your eyes drift back to namjoon, spotting a small smile that rests on his face. “it must’ve been hard to relive it all.”

the bond you have with namjoon is one that you hold close to your heart. through his mentorship, you got to learn about what it means to be a writer. the fears of being a journalist would loom over you, where questions of salary and demanding work hours would occupy your mind, but namjoon became someone who would absolve them all. he became a pillar in your life, one that provides you hope and comfort within the industry.

“so, don’t feel pressured to talk about it. but if you ever want to open up about it, then i’ll be here.”

namjoon’s giving you an exit. are you willing to take it?

you cross your arms as you lean back into the chair. “you know how i was a science major then?”

“yeah, i remember looking over your resume. and then i saw that you were part of your university’s publication.”

your tongue pushes against the inside of your cheek. “i would’ve gotten some job in that field, like, i had it lined up for me.”

“really? like lab coat and all?”

as namjoon attempts to hold back his laugh over the image, you chuckle along. “yeah, lab coat and all! it’s crazy how my life was all set for that field, but i’m here now.” you look down at your arms. “i think just facing him in a completely different field that i once used to imagine with him was just strange. but i think hearing his answers really did it for me.”

namjoon nods at your words. “care to have lunch with me?” your eyes snap back to your editor. “i’m guessing you want to talk about it, after all.”

all you do is smile before getting off your seat.

spring of 2017

the season of spring has graced cheonan; the sun gleams in the expanse of blue and birds perched on tree branches sing their songs. it’s the perfect season to embrace the wonders of the town.

while it would be a delight to bask under the returning warmth, you’re stuck within the walls of the classroom, head resting on crossed arms.

still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.

“y/n.” you quickly sit up before your eyes settle on your adviser, ms. jeon, who stands in front of the classroom. “let’s take attendance.”

with that, you’re beside her as you call out each name on the class list. it’s a quick process of saying your classmates’ names for them to respond in variations of “present,” until you reach the section of last names that start with a ‘s’.

“sung hanbin.” no response.

you rip your eyes off the piece of paper, only met with your classmates who either look at each other in confusion or spaced out in their own worlds.

“sung hanbin?” when you’re met with the same reaction, you’re ready to mark the student absent—

“sorry!” the doors slam open. a boy clad in a white polo and jogging pants is panting by the entrance, covered in sweat as he rests on the edge of it. “sorry, i’m late.”

“oh, it’s okay! you arrived just in time.” ms. jeon smiles at the tardy student. as you watch him take a seat, his eyes lock with yours, but your adviser nudges you before saying, “y/n, proceed.”

sung hanbin made his name a few years back at a competition. the applause and roars from the crowd marked his spot in the school. others describe his movement as of cranes, standing in the middle of a pond as they do their best to minimize forming any ripples, or of elephants, swaying their trunks with control like no other.

but he’s a versatile dancer; nothing can truly capture him.

once you’ve finished marking the attendance, you go back to your seat. you’re ready to start the day with no bother but you can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

“now, you can see in these,” your art teacher, ms. park, points to the screen showcasing works from her favorite contemporary artists like kwon yongju and félix gonzález-torres, “that there are no borders to what constitutes art. and that’s not wrong because we have to recognize that art comes in different forms as we progress, from traditional painting and sculptures to digital ones.”

this field isn't your strong suit. with a greater understanding of the sciences, you struggle to create anything that could be on par with the works of any artist. yet, you enjoyed learning about every piece that your teacher shared, like unfolding and admiring something you know you can never replicate or create. still, the universe decides that they have other plans for you.

“as i mentioned before, i’ll be giving you time to work on your final assessment, which is to create an artwork for the class exhibit. for this deliverable, i’m asking that your work will be a collaborative one, meaning you aren’t working alone.” in a sea of chatter, some groans exit your classmates. “remember, inspiration doesn’t come from your own bubble! take this as your opportunity to create something that you’ve never imagined.”

within a split second, students are off their seats as they attempt to find a partner to work with. you, however, were struggling to think of who you could team up with. admittedly, you have a very different work style compared to others—even lee soojin, aspiring valedictorian, didn’t enjoy working with you. she turned every activity into a competition against you. (you didn’t enjoy her, either.) while you’re considering shamefully going up to your classmates like a stray dog looking for anyone willing to care for them—

“hi!” in front of you stands the tardy student of today, all smiles as his hands find comfort in the pockets of his jogging pants. “do you have a partner already?”

with furrowed eyebrows, you can’t help but look him up and down. “no, why?”

“well,” hanbin looks around the classroom, “everyone seems to have paired up except for us.” as his eyes drift back to you, he flashes you a smile, one that shows the whiskers engraved into his cheeks. “which leaves me to ask if you would like to work with me for this.”

you don’t have a choice. ms. park would never bend the rules for you. if anything, she would find a way to pair you with another student who would dread the idea of working with you. (“i’m sure they won’t mind being partners with you, right?” is what she would ask the poor student, only to be met with their retreat.)

“unless we accept a failing mark, which i’m sure we both don’t want.” it’s not like hanbin had a choice as well.

“okay.” with one word, light fills his eyes, enough to resemble the starlight that grazes your skin every night. “we can meet and discuss our schedules, especially because i’ve got ap stat, and you have, uhm,” a cough leaves you, “training, i’m assuming, or rehearsals. i don’t really know what you call them.”

his eyebrows shoot up as his mouth parts open. “o—oh, yeah. i usually have training after class until 8 p.m. on tuesdays, thursdays, and saturdays.”

“same. my classes are until 7 p.m. on tuesdays and thursdays, so maybe we can use the other days to work together?”

with one nod from him, his dimples reappear. “great! i’ll see you tomorrow.”

before you know it, everyone finds their way back to their seats for ms. park’s final reminders. you do your best to pay attention to every announcement, jotting down every word on your planner and planning out your agenda for the upcoming weeks. yet, your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they drift back to the boy who discreetly passes notes to choi jiung, another dancer on the team, all while listening to the teacher.

you don’t notice how long you spend staring at hanbin until he turns to meet your gaze. in that split second, you look at each other—then, embarrassment washes over you. you shift your attention back to ms. park. as you drum your fingers against the desk, mentally kicking yourself over the interaction, you still can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

you look back at hanbin; he’s still looking at you.

his dimples make their reappearance before he looks back at ms. park. you do the same as you attempt to listen to her ramble about banksy’s works.

(you’re still thinking about his whiskers.)

the first time you get to meet with hanbin for the project happens the following week. you two had different commitments to attend to, whether it be other projects or training. and while you would usually settle to meet in the school library or a cafe nearby, you find yourself inside the empty gymnasium, sitting on bleachers while your partner stands in front of mirrors.

“don’t you think it would be nice to combine our hobbies together?”

your pencil taps against the notebook. “like, your dancing? with what?”

“whatever you like to do!” once he makes his way to you, he leans on the row in front of you with crossed arms. “i mean, do you have anything you like to do during your free time?”

a scoff leaves you. “funny of you to assume that i have free time.”

“what’s your schedule like?”

“well, i have our classes and ap ones, then kumon at night.”

hanbin reels at the thought of your schedule. “that’s brutal. the last time i had kumon was back in grade 4.”

“yeah, but i’m sure yours is busy as well. the amount of time that you put into training is…” his eyes are wide, hanging on your words. it’s the hope they hold that has you say, “admirable.”

a shy smile takes over his features. “yeah, but it’s only because my family is supportive of what i do.”

you only muster out a hum.

“do you have anything you like to do during those short breaks?”

your lips trill. “i don’t know. watch something on youtube?”

his cheeks puff up, stuck in his thoughts as he tries to navigate this project—and you—until his eyes glint. “what do you do when you want to vent?”

“you sure have a lot of questions,” you comment, trying to hold back a chuckle at his curiosity. “i can just adjust to you. maybe attempt to draw, picture, or even film you.”

his eyebrows furrow. “but that wouldn’t make it collaborative. i want us to work on something that aligns with what we do.”

a beat passes.

he holds your gaze. “i want us to create something that shows us.”

inside you, a gong is struck; its sound reverberates throughout your body, from the crown of your forehead to the tips of your toes. then, silence seeps in—a moment only for you and him.

“i, uh, write,” you whisper as your eyes shift to the notebook resting on your lap.

“really? like, stories and poetry?”

you nod. “i like writing people’s stories more, but i do like making ones.” when you look back at hanbin, his eyes are still filled with curiosity. “i would, like, find interviews online and try to make my own, sort of, uhm—god this is embarrassing. forget about it.”

“huh? no, it isn’t!” he attempts to reassure your shrunken figure. “i mean, you don’t have to share more if you really don’t want to, but i’d like to hear more about it.” and when his dimples appear, you almost can’t help but feel your face warm up.

“i’d make articles, i guess?” he nods along with your words. “i don’t know, it’s just interesting to hear about people’s lives and kind of create something out of it, and i like thinking about all the possibilities of who would love to hear them. like, don’t you think that some of the stories that we read hold fragments of someone?”

“that’s an interesting way to look at it.”

as you doodle on your notebook, you say, “yeah, it’s just fun to hear these stories and maybe create something out of it. or even think of stories that i could never live out, you know?” you expect yourself to be met with the bored face of hanbin but his eyes remain on you.

“what if you interview me?”

your eyebrows shoot up. “you?”

“yeah,” he stands up before walking up to your row, finding a spot beside you. “think of me as your first interviewee if you want.”

the sudden suggestion has you stumbling over your words. “huh? b—but, i don’t have questions prepared. and how does this help our project?”

when his arms brush against yours, you start to become aware of the distance between your shoulders—and his face from yours. warmth spreads throughout your body, almost like you’re about to have a fever. once his open hand rests near yours, you don’t know what he’s asking.

“let me draw it out for you.” you hand him your pencil and notebook, allowing him to see your doodles. (you don’t miss his grin.) “you know, with that article you make, we can cut it up and create something out of it.” a roughly drawn sketch of a boy posed in the middle of a dance move now rests on the page. “i don’t know if a collage would be okay.”

as you think about what can be done, you perch your chin on your palm. “we can do papercut art? basically, it’s cutting up the article in a way to form an image.”

“oh, that sounds cool!”

“yeah, but the only challenge is that we can only use one piece of paper.” a sigh leaves you. “it would be impossible for me to even do that.”

“that’s why you have me.” his small smile causes wind chimes to ring. (you’re positive you heard them, even if there were no such things in the gymnasium.)

he continues to sketch out the layout of your joint artwork. “how do we feel about this?” on the paper, there are two boxes beside the figure, where one is labeled as “photo of me” while the other is labeled “an article by y/n.” your head tilts. “it’ll be a three-set piece. so, it’ll be a photo of me and your article, and in between is the papercut art that we’ll make.”

you hum. “you know, you’re very creative.” you look at him only to see that he’s been staring at you. “like, you’re inclined to the arts. i wouldn’t have been able to think of something like this.”

“you’re just as creative,” he argues back as he writes down something.

you shake your head before retorting, “hanbin, you’re very talented. i’ve seen the way you dance,” his movements halt, “and you’re like no other dancer i’ve seen. if you ever try out to be an idol, i’m sure you’d do great, maybe end up on the list of the best dancers in the industry.”

but he shakes his head, going back to writing on your notebook and shutting down your compliments. you decide to not push.

“i can get the photo sometime during my training,” he says as he hands you your notebook.

“then i can have the questions sometime this week. for the article, i can have it done maybe four days after the interview. how does wednesday, after school, sound for the interview?”

he shoots you a smile before standing up from his seat. “that’s perfect! i’m looking forward to meeting journalist y/n.” you can’t help but scoff at what he calls you. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you shake your head. “it’s just a silly name.” because the reality is that you had your future planned out—and it definitely didn’t involve that field.

he shrugs. “i don’t know, i think it would fit you.”

“but you haven’t read any of my works.”

“but i want to root for you in the same way you do for me. i don’t want you to feel ashamed of your works.” a fire ignites in your heart; it’s a fireplace.

you’re baffled that hanbin, out of all people, now holds your secret, but you’re even astounded over the idea of him supporting you. you almost can’t remember the last time you heard such words of support. is it genuine or nothing but a facade?

“anyway, i’ve got to go. i need to catch up on some homework.” while you shoot him a nod, his dimples make their appearance once more. “i’ll see you tomorrow!” as he takes off, you’re left in the gymnasium with your opened notebook and unlocked heart. you look back down at his sketch surrounded by your doodles, but you don’t miss his little note—cute doodles btw <3

the season of spring has unfolded in cheonan; a single lilac has bloomed.

present -> a day before the interview, 2024

it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.

the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.

a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was something home cooked. something from home.

the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.

your tastebuds long for cheonan.

“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”

you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stock up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”

“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”

“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”

“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”

your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”

“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”

you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.”

“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”

the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob dashes away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.

your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and his whiskers appear—your heart thumps in your ears.

and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheonan, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.

but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.

but he bites the inside of his cheek and his dimples appear.

it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with hanbin. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?

you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.

your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”

“yeah, about that…”

“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”

at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”

“what? why?”

you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”

“but don’t you only have your interview with zerobase—”

“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”

“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”

an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”

“y/n?”

and the plan failed.

when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.

all it takes is one breath from you. “hanbin.”

a beat passes.

“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)

you and hanbin were once painted with the hues of the sun. this reunion is tainted with blue.

hanbin’s fingers tense up, almost as if he was hesitating—debating—on how to approach you. his body would waver, but he never took a step towards you. “i… i wasn’t expecting to meet you here.”

“same here.” you lean your back against the checkout counter. “d—do you stay around this part of the city?”

he shakes his head. “i live around 15, maybe 20, minutes away from here. i’m only here because…” your breath gets caught in your throat. “i don’t know.”

fate. that’s what brought us here.

“do you live here?”

you nod. “yeah, ever since—” the sentence never gets completed; you and him already know.

for a moment, sorrow flashes in his eyes, but a smile shows up. the dimples don’t appear. “i, uh, i was going to get something from here but it seems like your friend is busy.”

“sorry about jongseob.” you whip out your phone and scold him through text. “he should be with us in a bit.”

hanbin hums before walking to the freezer filled with different ice cream. as he looks through the selection, he asks, “do you still like twin bar?”

“y—yeah.”

“still the grape flavor?” you don’t know what to say, but when his gaze meets yours, you settle for a nod. with your favorite ice cream in one hand and a sandwich in the other, he finally walks towards you. you don’t miss the slight stagger in his steps.

hanbin finds his spot beside you. there’s still distance between you two—two tiles worth, enough space for one person—but it’s enough for your muscles to freeze. thankfully, jongseob comes just in time to manage the cashier (with an awkward smile plastered on).

he scans hanbin’s item first before grabbing onto your ice cream.

“oh, i’m paying—”

“no, let me,” hanbin insists. “you can always treat me another time.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, thinking over the second half of his sentence. jongseob holds back from scanning the item, until you shoot him a nod. hanbin pays for the food before jongseob hands them to you.

“i’ll just let you know when the pizza gets here.” his small smile is enough for your shoulders to ease and a quiet exhale to leave. a small nod is all you give him.

you follow hanbin outside to the tables in front of the mart. once he’s settled on a spot, you sit across from him. he tears away the plastic wrapping of his food while you play with the ends of yours.

while he swallows what you assume to be his dinner of the day, you’re left to swallow your own pride.

“i’ve seen your performances.” his chews halt. “you’re—” captivating. “you’ve improved a lot.”

with one gulp, a shy smile takes over his face. “i still have a long way to go.”

“you always say that, even back then.” a half bitten sandwich now rests on the wrapper. “but i admire your drive.” always have.

while a different version of hanbin sits across you, the one you knew back in cheonan still lives. in the busy, unfamiliar expanse of seoul, meeting 7 years later, he’ll never be stranger. you could never treat him as such, even if you wanted to.

“there’s always room for improvement,” he says.

you hum along with his sentiment. “did you stick with early childhood education?” you’re met with his orbs that hold a thousand of emotions, some you can name as shock, confusion. a question hangs in the air—what did you deserve to know?

“sorry, i’m assuming you still went to college, which is totally fine if you did or didn’t, by the way. and it’s also okay if you didn’t stick to your major. i mean, you always talked about pursuing a performing arts degree before—”

“y/n,” he giggles, “you’re okay. i still went to college but i took media & communication.” your eyebrows shoot up at the revelation. “i thought it made sense to study something related to what i do, just the more technical and theoretical side of it, i guess. and the online classes were easy to squeeze into my schedule.” he lifts up the sandwich. “what about you?”

“uh, i ended up in the same course as well.” a hum of shock leaves hanbin. “yeah,” you chuckle, “i managed to shift courses.”

“that’s amazing! i’m happy for you.”

you smile at him. “thanks. now, i’m just—” you should tell him what you do. what would be a better time to reveal that you ended up in the path he dreamed for you to be than now? “—figuring things out.”

with your vagueness, hanbin only nods before munching away. if there’s anything about you that still remains, it’s that you shouldn’t be pushed to share something you didn’t want to talk about. he still knew that.

as he finishes his sandwich, you tear off the plastic wrapping of your ice cream. with the twin bar in your hands, you snap it into two before you hand him a piece. confusion paints his features, wide eyes glossing over the popsicle in your hand, but he takes it before you can say anything.

“thanks.”

you shake your head. “don’t even worry about it. it’s only tradition.”

silence settles between you two. as you eat away on your share of the twin bar, you look up to the sky. from where you sit, you can’t see a single star; the lights of seoul seemed to outshine them. and during those moments, you almost can’t help but miss the view of the starry night from your childhood room.

you glance at hanbin who looks up to the sky as well. yet, one hand remains in his pocket, almost as if he’s fiddling with something.

as if he feels your eyes on him, he asks, “did you ever think about coming back?”

you halt your movements. if there’s one thing you were expecting your old friend to ask, it would be related to your sudden departure. but you’re hit with an entirely different question, one you didn’t get to rehearse the answer to in case you ever cross paths with him.

because after all this talk about your yearning for cheonan, why didn’t you choose to visit? despite how much you long mr. kim’s home cooked meals, skies filled with stars, or the presence of your best friend, why didn’t you ever come back?

if you miss home, why is your first instinct to run away from it?

and the reality is that you do think about it all the time. since you left cheonan, you drafted out how many plans to go back. you were homesick, missing the familiar landscape you spent your entire childhood growing up in. but most of all, you missed hanbin. as long as you had him, you would survive anywhere, whether in seoul or cheonan.

despite how much you yearned for him during your years away, you learned that your relationship wasn’t always filled with the warmth that would grace you two every afternoon. for so long, you’ve sat with jealousy. while his family was his pillar of strength, you were met with a home that offered nothing but criticism.

the black limbs slowly ate away at your heart; the void was born.

it became easier to remain resentful. with the distance, you weren’t faced with hanbin’s genuineness. yet, with time, you discovered that you still cared for him—regardless of your jealousy—because you still wanted more for him than you did for yourself.

for a long time, you resented. now, it’s only guilt that held you back from going back to him.

so when you remain silent, hanbin takes it as your answer.

and for the first time, the distance feels greater since you first left cheonan.

summer of 2017

it’s the peak of summer. amidst the expanse of verdant fields, bees seek solace in the fully-bloomed sunflowers and kaleidoscope wings illuminate as they soar.

but summer is where mouths go dry and clothes cling to skin. as days blend with each other, the comfort of your bed is all you have until the season passes.

the fan rumbles against the wooden floor, doing its best to cool you, but the heat prickles against the back of your neck. the wind has turned into nothing but hot waves. with your elbows perched on the desk, a sigh leaves you as you attempt to make sense of the worksheet filled with math equations.

your room is your favorite place in cheonan. within these four walls are scattered fragments of you, from your favorite books and mangas that rest on the bookshelf to the stuffed toys that rest on your bed. book tabs stick out of your workbooks lined up on your desk and your cork board is filled with crossed out to-do lists.

and every once in a while, you would look out through your window, admiring the neighboring houses and all their greenery. as people walk on pavements, you cannot help but think about where they’re off to—are they on their way to work? did they leave an important document back home? or are they coming back to a meal and home filled with warmth?

despite the halo soundtrack filling your ears, the cogs in your brain seem to drown them out. the numbers on your paper have jumbled up. it should’ve been easy. after all, you’ve become friends with the letters who’ve squeezed their way into math. once you’ve wrapped up on this assignment, you know you’ll wake up to another set of work to do. it didn’t help that you’re stuck watching kids your age enjoy their break.

with a tired mind, you consider making yourself another cup of iced coffee. maybe another dose of caffeine will make sense of the numbers—

your phone buzzes against your table. as your eyes rip from the unfinished worksheet, you spot the familiar name flashing on the screen. with one glance at your door, you bring your headphones to rest around your neck. it takes three rings for you to answer.

“what do you want?”

“the fuck? what’s wrong with you?”

you roll your eyes as you fiddle with your pen. “i’m studying, you fucker.”

“on a sunday?” hanbin’s question has you only groan. “what happened to resting?”

“i wish,” you murmur as you scratch the back of your head. “i’ve been stuck on this stupid worksheet for the past hours. it’s annoying too. i mean, i already know this topic, so i don’t know why it’s so hard.”

“awe, is my best friend suffering over kumon?”

your forehead rests on crossed arms. “yes. i think i’m going to die.”

“okay, then. i’ll take that as my sign.”

“sign to what?”

he chuckles as if it were obvious. “to save you! let’s go to mr. kim’s.”

a groan leaves you as your back meets the chair. “no, i can’t. do you know what would happen if i don’t finish my kumon?”

“uh… no?”

“me, neither. i’m not taking my chances.”

“but, you’re not even doing anything!” hanbin pointing out the obvious has you rolling your eyes. “wouldn’t it be better to take a break with your best friend? i can even help out.”

as you bite the inside of your cheek, you glance once more at your closed door. you weigh it out; would you rather take a break with your best friend or would you save yourself from the consequences brought by home?

but the answer was already clear. “give me 10 minutes.”

hanbin laughs before you drop the call.

it’s the smell of fresh hotteok that greets you. the quiet buzzing of the fan accompanied by mr. kim’s favorite trot music fills your ears. while the owner seems to be away from the cashier, a white, stray cat takes over, body flopped on the counter as it snores away the heat. as the sun pours through windows, coating every corner of the mart with a glow of fireflies, you know this will be a place of its own.

“y/n, over here!” a familiar voice calls out. as you whip your head to the source, you see your best friend by the chest freezer, eyes crinkled and all dimples.

now, you’re certain that nothing could ever replicate this.

you walk towards hanbin, finding your spot beside him as you two look through the collection of frozen treats. “so, what do you want from here?” you ask.

“uh… i’ll be honest, i just realized i’m short on money.”

you glance through the price tags, only for a groan to leave you. “i’m short too. when did mr. kim raise the prices?”

“no clue. i thought i’d have enough to get a summer crush,” hanbin complains as his eyes are glued to the coffee sorbet. “i hate inflation.”

“come on.” you fish out for the coins in your pocket. “let’s see how much we have together.” hanbin does the same. with palms out, you two count through your shared funds.

“we can get a summer crush!”

“you can get one. i’ll be left with barely anything.” you look through the selection once more. “man, i really want samanco. the red bean sounds so good right now.”

defeat casts over hanbin’s features. for a moment, you almost consider giving up on having a frozen treat and settling for a glass bottle of orange soda, until you spot a familiar popsicle brand.

“holy shit, it’s right there.”

“what?”

“there!” your finger points at the stack of twin bars. “we can probably get that and split it.”

hanbin’s expression morphs into realization. “okay, let’s get—”

“dibs on grape.”

“dibs?” he furrows his eyebrows at you. “you can’t just call dibs. you’re doing it wrong. clearly, we should discuss—”

“nope,” you retort. a chuckle laced with disbelief leaves your best friend. to him, it seemed like you were joking around. “i made the suggestion and contributed a lot more to our shared funds.”

“okay, but—”

“don’t tell me you want the peach flavor more than the grape.” as you continue to shut him down, he knows there’s no way around you.

(plus, he wasn’t a fan of peach-flavored things, anyway. how unfortunate that mr. kim only has those two flavors right now.)

“next time, we’re choosing a flavor that i want,” he gives in. you let out a cheer before grabbing the frozen treat.

you two make your way back to the cashier and spot mr. kim slouched in front of the television, hand stroking the sleepy feline. he’s still wearing an old, red plaid apron on top of a pair of basketball shorts and a loose graphic tee which had the name of a band you’re unfamiliar with. with how he sits, you’re afraid that his back problems will get even worse. (still, you don’t say anything. he’ll only play it off and say he’s still one of the “youngins”... whatever that means.)

once his eyes land on you two, a grin takes over. “ah, my favorite kids! it’s nice to see you both.”

“yeah, it’s been a while,” hanbin starts off. “y/n’s always busy with kumon.”

you narrow your eyes at the boy. “hey! you’re busy, too! you’ve been practicing at the studio almost every day!” the wrapped popsicle now rests on the counter. “every time i’m free, you’re not.”

“hey! whenever you’re free, i’m tired from training!”

“okay, let’s settle down,” mr. kim breaks up the banter. he then takes note of the ice cream on the cashier, the price showing up on the cashier. “isn’t the heat hard enough for you two to be studying or practicing?”

“yes, very much.” you count the coins once more before dropping the exact amount on the counter. “but,” you glance at hanbin and his disheartened expression is enough for mountains to move, “i don’t think we have a choice.”

in reality, these were the circumstances you two had to work and live with. during the days hanbin ended practice early, you were drowning in summer school assessments. whenever you managed to finish your homework, it would be during the hours your best friend was off at the studio or passed out at home from exhaustion.

“choice, no choice, people always say that.” mr. kim counts your payment before putting it into the cashier. as he takes note of what you’ve bought, he says, “everyone has a choice. i’m sure you two can figure it out.”

the only difference is that one chose this path; the other had to suffer from the decision forced onto them.

“don’t worry, mr. kim,” hanbin nudges your shoulder. “i’m sure we’ll figure it out.” and when his whiskers appear, you find yourself smiling back.

maybe you were okay with the life you had to live, just maybe.

“anyway, we’ll go ahead,” hanbin bids farewell to mr. kim.

you giggle. “he means we’re just going to eat our ice cream at the front.”

as you two slowly make your way out of the mart, mr. kim shakes his head. “you lovebirds go ahead. i’ll see you next time!”

“mr. kim!” you and hanbin shout in unison before glancing at each other.

“what?!”

your best friend groans. “you know we aren’t together.”

“yeah! like, i can’t imagine it,” you join in.

still, the owner laughs at your reactions. “you two are so funny. just go and enjoy your ice cream.”

you roll your eyes at his words. “bye, mr. kim!”

with that, you and hanbin were out of the mart and took a seat on the benches. you hand your best friend the wrapped frozen treat before letting out a sigh. “i still can’t believe this is one of the few times we got to meet up during the break.”

“i know.” he tears the plastic wrapping off. “you would think that summer break would mean we get to hang out nonstop, but i’m starting to think we saw each other more whenever we had school.”

you hum. “i know. and i had ap stat while you had training.” your eyes dart at hanbin who grips onto the popsicle sticks, struggling to split it into two. “oh my god, don’t tell me you can’t split it.”

“hey! it’s hard.”

as you giggle, you reach your hand out. “let me do it.” once hanbin hands you the twin bar, you attempt to split the two. for a moment, you almost think about agreeing with him. yet, the frozen treat splits into two perfectly, and a satisfied smile rests on your lips.

you hand him one popsicle, only to be met with his glare. “i know, i’m just better.”

“just shut up.” to that, another laugh leaves you.

under the sun, you enjoy the coolness of the twin bar. while you would’ve stared off to nowhere, you and hanbin were here at the right time to catch civilians bustling away. some were on dates, where one would go on about their interest while the other would smile at their rambling. there were kids whose chatter could be heard all the way from the end of the block, and blue-collar men who were off to enjoy their break.

you can’t help but imagine what people saw—thought—of you and hanbin. did they think of you as unexpected friends? has it ever crossed their minds that you two were only classmates who seemed to always be paired together? or did they ever think the same as mr. kim?

“you know,” hanbin starts off, causing you to look at him, “i was going through college courses the other day.”

your eyebrows shoot up. “oh?”

with your reaction, hanbin giggles. “i was just curious, you know? not that i’m giving up on dance or anything, but,” he licks the popsicle, “early childhood education sounds cool.”

you hum. “i wasn’t expecting that.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“no, it’s not a bad thing!” you reassure the boy. “it’s just,” you rip your gaze off of hanbin and look at the playground, “i always thought of you as a dancer, you know? kind of like you were meant for the stage.” the laughter of the kids who passed by you two bounces all over the block and you can’t help but smile. “but i don’t doubt it.”

the breeze graces your sweat-covered skin. “what about you?” you look back at him. “would you ever consider journalism? maybe communication as your major?”

you’re quick to laugh at his suggestion, but when confusion paints his features, you realize it’s a serious question from him.

“no.” it’s a straightforward answer from you, but hanbin could never settle with that

“why not?”

a sigh leaves you. “i just don’t consider it. i mean, i think about it,” all the time, “but not enough to consider it. plus, astrophysics is cool.”

“but is it your dream?”

hanbin’s question is an easy one to answer—not at all. you’ve had enough learning about theories and making sense of the numbers. if your future is going to only complicate that further, then maybe astrophysics isn’t made for you.

but who’s to say that you’ll even enjoy journalism?

“we’ll see.” you leave it at that and hanbin didn’t push for more.

because the reality is that if you ever did consider it, transform those dreams into action plans, you were terrified to be met with your parents’ disappointment—it wouldn’t only be from your lousy desires but from hanbin’s role in your life.

the first time you mentioned hanbin to your parents happened over dinner, letting them know you would be staying later at school to work on the final project for art class with him. they didn’t bat an eye at his name as they continued to talk about what happened during work and pester you about your progress in other classes. (art class didn’t matter to them, only the sciences and math were ones they seemed to track. still, they would criticize you if you didn’t place first honors.)

with your parents’ oversight, something blossomed between you and hanbin . from there, there were more days you would get home later than usual. while you were still on top of your work, they took your late arrivals as a form of negligence.

all it took was one night for them to demand an explanation. the reappearance of him in the conversation had only caused them to reprimand you—hanbin’s not like you. he’ll only hold you back.

from that day on, you’ve learned to keep his name out of conversations. you’ll enjoy what you have with hanbin, even if it has to be kept under the wraps.

“how’s training?” you change the subject, trying to keep the attention off of your failed dreams to hanbin’s flourishing ones.

“well, it’s a lot,” he chuckles as he munches a piece. “you already know that it takes how many hours to get to the company, and the hours i spend in the practice room are unlike the trainings i have at school.”

as his eyes meet yours, you only shoot him an apologetic smile. it was never going to be easy; you two knew that before hanbin entered the doors of the company. yet, he still held on.

“you know, i never considered it before, but i like where i’m going,” he admits. “even if i’ve always had dreams to pursue dance, i want to make my family proud if i ever get to debut.”

hanbin knows how to persevere. regardless of all the bruises he gets from performing complex dance routines or the hours of sleep he longs for, he knows how to hold on. you wish you could say the same for yourself.

“and you will,” you reassure the boy, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “who wouldn’t be proud of you?”

he holds your stare and your smile falters. for a moment, you don’t know if you touched on a sensitive topic. would he shrug your arm off? do you think he’ll shut you off, maybe cut your time together short? will hanbin get mad at you for something you didn’t know was wrong? would he be just like them?

“i want to make you proud.”

that’s enough to answer it all.

you shake your head. “don’t even doubt that for a second.” your arm finds it spot back to your side, and hanbin’s loops his with yours.

although he knows how to persevere, he never knows when to shut his ears from the shadows.

“i am proud of you,” you tell him. “always have, always will.” he can’t help but smile. all you can hope is that he’ll listen closely to your voice.

“i almost forgot,” he says out of nowhere.

“forgot what?”

as he tugs his arm away, his hand fishes for something in his pocket. “close your eyes.” you furrow your eyebrows. “just do it!” you follow his orders. “and keep them closed, okay?” you let out a hum.

before you know it, something wraps around your index finger. you would’ve opened your eyes, confused over the foreign yet familiar material, but they remain shut.

“okay, open.”

your gaze rests on your finger wrapped in yellow and blue. it’s a finger trap—and the other end is connected to hanbin. despite your tug, it still holds you two together.

it’s the warmth that fills your cheeks, the heartbeat in your ears, and your starstruck eyes that has him smile. “no matter what happens, we’ll stick together, okay? regardless of what paths we end up pursuing. all that matters is that we have each other.”

he’s filled with hope. hope for his dreams. hope for your relationship. hope for what the future holds for you two. you can’t help but hope as well.

all it takes is a nod from you to solidify the promise to the universe.

you two sit in silence, finishing up the popsicles as people continue to pass by. at one point, you heard mr. kim let out a curse over the drama he’s watching. the sun is about to set, wrapping you two in a golden blanket, and all that matters is the finger trap.

present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

it’s no surprise to you that the newsroom is quiet. while your peers are off to gather more information, you’re with lee chaeyeon of news as she tries to meet the deadline for her article’s first close.

“do you think dokyeom will be late?” you ask as you watch her rephrase sentences.

she laughs. “when is he never? minho’s always assigning him coverages.”

“that’s true.” your eyes drift to the hallway. “i’m just hungry. he still owes me food, you know?”

“over another bet? or you saving his ass?”

“over helping him with an article,” you reveal, earning a shocked look from her. “for some odd reason, he needed another writer to help out with a live coverage, and all the sports writers and sports editor were busy handling the other events.”

“holy shit.” chaeyeon continues with her work. “i didn’t expect you to work on anything sports-related.”

“yeah, but it helped that it was a dance competition. at least i know something about dance.” you only know who to thank. “i’m going to make sure i get compensated for that. i’m planning to raise it to minho and namjoon, anyway. that’s if dokyeom would fucking come and help in explaining the situation.”

with the mention of the tardy writer’s name, he’s scrambling through the halls with his backpack in one hand and a paper bag in the other. the moment he sees you, he shoots you an apologetic smile.

“speak of the devil,” you say as you stand up straight. “why do you always show up late? i helped you with the article.”

dokyeom finds his spot beside you as he sets down the bag on your desk. “i’ll have you know that wasn’t the only article i had yesterday. i was catching up on other ones that minho assigned me.” before he can plop down on his seat, he spots chaeyeon working. “damn, tough life at news.”

“no need to point out the obvious, doofus.”

“wow, harsh,” he replies to her insult. “just so you know, i bought food for us.”

“thank god,” you exclaim as you open the paper bag filled with takeout containers and sealed cups. as you pull them out one by one, you spot your usual order from the vietnamese restaurant around the corner. “oh my god, thank you for getting me this.” you take a seat before you pass dokyeom his food and utensils.

“yeah, i know. i’m just the best.” his shower of compliments for himself only has you rolling your eyes. “but thank you, by the way, for helping me out with the article. i needed an extra pair of hands and my own editor couldn’t stand in to help out.”

“it’s fine. just make sure you help me get compensated for that article,” you say before you open the container. as the smell of bun bo nam bo fills your nose, you can’t help but let out a quiet moan. “holy fuck, i’ve been craving this.”

“i made sure to get you some vietnamese coffee also.”

“yeah, i saw. thank you.” you split the chopsticks with one hand. you’re about to mix the bowl of your favorite food—

“is y/n here?” your editor calls out, causing you to let out a sigh before you stand up from your seat.

“yes?”

namjoon’s gaze lands on you. “can i talk to you for a bit?”

despite your grumbling stomach, you give him a nod and set your food down. as he retreats to his office, you glare at dokyeom who munches away on goi cuon. “i hate you.”

“hey, what did i do?!” you ignore his attempts to defend himself as you make your way to your editor’s office.

once you swing the door open, you spot namjoon whose eyes are stuck to the screen. “you can take a seat,” he says with no attempt to look at you. you sit across from him, hands folded on your lap, while he types away on his keyboard.

the moment he hits the ‘enter’ key is when he finally looks at you. “sorry about that. i was just replying to minho regarding your compensation for the article you worked with dokyeom. we both appreciate what you did. next time though, make sure to loop in minho or me before you two start working on beats not within your staffs.”

“sorry about that,” you start off. “dokyeom only asked for my help and i thought it would be fine since i’m familiar with dance, anyway.”

namjoon shakes his head with a small smile plastered on his face. “it is fine, just make sure to inform us.” you only nod.

“anyway, i’m sorry to have this meeting with you right now but i have to leave work early today, and i thought that you’d appreciate that i tell this to you now instead of tomorrow,” he says. you hum, curious about what he has to say. “i have a coverage for you, a very, very, long one.”

over the sight of your wide eyes, he can’t help but chuckle. “it’s 10 articles,” he says and your mouth gapes over the number. “well, one main article and nine profiles with very brief introductory paragraphs.” his attempt to ease your shocked state does nothing.

“namjoon, that’s… a lot.”

“yes, i know. i would love to split the workload but everyone else is handling other articles, and i trust you. i know i’m asking for a lot but i’ll make sure to help you out with them. it’s just that we’re working on a time crunch and i don’t know anyone else i can ask but you.”

the faith that your editor seems to have in you is like no other.

“profiles, like, those q&a transcripts?” you ask.

he nods before saying, “yes, and just a brief introductory paragraph for each profile. i’m just expecting you to put more work into the article about the group. i’ll make sure to help out with the profiles.”

namjoon’s trust should be anxiety inducing, enough to send you complaining, but you find yourself relieved. your mentor became your second-in-command; the mountain of workload transformed into a hill.

“okay.”

a relaxed smile appears on his face at your acceptance. “thank god! i was going to stress about this the whole day if you refused. i’ll make sure to send you the details about this once i’m done with my appointments, and then we can see how we’ll divide the work later on.” he types something. “we’re covering a k-pop group which is why there’s one main article about the whole group and then nine profiles.”

“yeah, i figured that out.” this isn’t anything out of your usual articles. “can i ask who we’re interviewing? maybe i can do some research on them while you attend your meetings.” you pull out your phone, ready to search up whoever your editor says.

“ah, i’m sure you’ll be familiar with them. it’s zerobaseone.” you still in your seat. “you know, the group formed from boys planet.”

“zerobaseone?”

namjoon looks at you, now met with your features that have transformed from wide eyes to scrunched eyebrows. “yeah. do you know them?”

you shake your head without a second thought. “no, i don’t think i do,” you whisper the last sentence to yourself. his narrow eyes look over you, almost dissecting you.

the walls surrounding you are painted in solid colors of pearl, almost untouched. yet, under the paint are cracks that spread like cobwebs. every burst is a testament to the earthquakes they’ve faced; no one should be able to see a single line of black amid the white sea. now, they’re filled with paste, and it should be enough to cover them all.

but for the first time, the paint has chipped and the paste has deteriorated; the different colors of cheonan seep through the cracks.

you clear your throat as you straighten your back. “i’ll be sure to research them.” you wave your phone at him, hoping to divert his attention, but his gaze remains on you.

a sigh leaves him. “okay. expect to receive the documents later in the afternoon.”

he doesn’t push any further. for now, the walls remain intact. (or appear as so.)

it was never going to be easy.

“honestly, i was losing hope as we practiced,” the youngest says through tears. as they huddle, they let out silent wishes for the upcoming years. before they blow the candle, they don’t forget to express their gratitude to the fandom who stuck with them through thick and thin.

a time of celebration turned into a moment to remember their struggles. these were pockets of their time that marked their spot in history.

“oh, everyone behind us is crying!” another member points out as the camera captures the team’s bittersweet cries.

and when you catch sight of the brunette who hides his tears behind his friend, the ache in your chest starts to spread through your veins. the video cuts to his low-hanging head as his members comfort him. they knew all of his hardships—you only know a fraction.

such a tender moment happened a year ago; it’s longer than the amount of time between this achievement and your departure. within those years, what did hanbin undergo? did his trainings waver his passion or did the fire burn just as bright as it did since he first auditioned? was he confident in his skills or was he still critical about every performance he had?

but most of all, what did he face? what did he learn? to hate? to love?

what did he go through without you?

you don’t forget to take note of their first win on your document filled with bullet points of information. while you were going to continue watching, a recommended video caught your attention. it’s a hanbin focus. you don’t hesitate to click it.

the video starts off with him checking up on the fans before the performance starts. as he mimes out eating, they answer his question with reassurance.

and there they come—his dimples appear.

it transitions to their group in their opening formation. as they await for the song to play out, hanbin’s familiar smile shifts into a dominant gaze.

in the same way the first notes draw people to listen, your eyes never leave the boy. his movements are fluid, like water droplets sliding off leaves. he commands the stage regardless of where he’s positioned.

hanbin is meant to be on the stage—no, every stage is made for him. every crowd is meant to cheer his name and remain captive to his talents, and every spotlight is meant to shine on him.

you rest your chin on crossed arms. long gone was the bowl cut and loose school uniform. he’s grown. matured, even. yet, the moments where his smile appears makes you realize one thing: the 16-year-old boy you knew still lives within him.

as their performance comes to an end, you don’t bother to move your cursor, letting the next recommended video play. and when his vlog plays out, you realize that a fragment of his identity is a whole of what you know.

what an honor it is to have known him for even a fraction of your lifetime.

his voice is a lullaby, the same one you used to fall asleep to, so you allow yourself to close your eyes. you let go of the responsibilities for just this moment, and allow yourself to be transported back into the warmth of his arms.

fall of 2017

out of all the seasons, autumn took its spot in being your favorite. clusters of green slowly morph into shades of oranges and browns. it’s a symphony of chirps that fills the silence. while the breeze brings you comfort after the heat of summer, it also reminds you of the looming winter.

it’s a shame that autumn does live up to its other name: a season of fall.

“you’re always like this,” your mother comments. you stand in front of your parents, slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, as they hold a sheet of paper they believe dictates your future. “always so sensitive. we’re just asking you what went different. why did your grades drop?” to them, a shift from a to b+ is a threat to your future.

while your feet stand on wooden floors, a flood starts to form. murky waves crash against your legs, but you do your best to keep your balance.

“answer us when you’re being talked to.” your father snaps you out of your thoughts. “what have you been doing for your grades to drop?” you want to answer but a single sound that leaves you may only lead to blubbers that your parents will scold you for.

with your silence, your mother sneers. “i knew we shouldn’t have let you do your own things. i told you so.” she shifts her gaze to him. “what did i tell you about y/n? you know they’ll only slack off!”

“i thought we could trust them. clearly, i was wrong.” your father’s glare raises the water levels, reaching your chest. you don’t know how to swim in the foggy ocean.

“i know why.” she crosses her arms. “it’s because of that hanbin boy, isn’t it?” she says his name laced with disgust.

you don’t think twice to defend him. “no, it isn’t!”

“don’t you dare talk back at me!”

“but i’m not! he’s done nothing.”

your father begins to raise his voice. “and that’s what’s wrong! that lazy boy does nothing for his studies. he clearly doesn’t care about his future.”

you always knew it would be a losing battle, but you’ll put up the fight to protect your best friend’s name. “that’s not true! he does care. he’s planning to do early childhood education for college, maybe become a teacher.”

“that job has no money. see, i can already see that you’re being influenced by him,” he argues back.

and as the murky waters rise, filling your lungs, your first instinct is to close your eyes and scream. “stop saying that about him!”

a beat passes.

“i don’t want you hanging out with him.”

“but—”

“shut up.” your mother’s words cause you to look up, meeting your parents’ faces filled with anger. “go to your room. now.” you’re nothing but a puppet for them.

was it even a battle if you always knew you were going to lose?

despite the safety of your room, you don’t let the tears flow down. you do anything to distract yourself; maybe a book will convince you that your life is only a figment of your imagination.

waves continue to crash against your body. if you let them take your body, would they send you far away from cheonan? from your parents? from the weight you were entrusted to carry since birth?

but would you allow the waves to send you away from hanbin?

your phone buzzes against the mattress. with tear-filled eyes, you see your best friend trying to reach you. you don’t think twice about declining his call and shutting off your phone.

as you curl in your bed, you hope the sea will swallow you whole—the slow, burning pain that comes with drowning won’t compare to the burns that haven’t healed. but you know that the blame rests on your shoulders. if only you had studied harder, cut off hours of rest for your work, then maybe you would be the perfect child your parents wanted.

were you wrong for allowing yourself to enjoy the small breaks between classes? was the time spent in the mart supposed to be for schoolwork? should you have found yourself a tutor? were you in the wrong for not working yourself to the bone? did you not work enough?

are you not enough?

then, a knock. your eyes snap open. like a stroke of light in the middle of the dark, hanbin is by your window.

you get off your bed to open the window. as the glass barrier disappears, he enters your room. “are you okay?” he spots your glassy eyes and his hands find their spot on your shoulders. “what happened?”

you break eye contact. “what do you want, hanbin?”

“you didn’t pick up your phone. and when i tried calling again, i couldn’t reach you,” he starts to explain.

you shrug off his grip on you before you take a seat on your bed. “i’m fine. my phone died.” as you feel the spot beside you dip, you look at your best friend. at the sight of his furrowed eyebrows, you know he doesn’t believe you. “i said i’m fine.”

“i didn’t say anything.” for you are an open book to him.

he opens his arms towards you—it’s your move to make. then, a tight-lipped smile shows on his face, his whiskers appear, and you allow yourself to fall. with his arms wrapped around you, you shut your eyes as you nestle your face into his neck.

breathe in. breathe out.

his hand finds its spot on your back, rubbing it in circles.

breathe in. breathe out.

“it’s okay, i’m here,” he says, and you allow yourself to crumble in front of him for the first time.

the tears hit hanbin’s neck like a light drizzle. your wails bring earthquakes into his world.

yet, his warmth is enough to dry up droplets, and his embrace protects you as you fall into the cracks of the earth and into the depths of the world. the flood starts to subside.

in your time knowing hanbin, how much did he know about you after all? had he always known of your strained relationship with your parents? did he hear about it from others or was he able to connect the dots?

because you didn’t know yourself outside of your parents anymore. did you like science because of your kumon classes? was your interest in writing birthed from a desire for validation from your parents?

are you nothing but an array of achievements and failures?

but your parents will never be satisfied; a standard too high is practically nonexistent.

hanbin moves so that you two can lie down. his arms remain wrapped around you as you hide in his neck. “i’m sorry if i wasn’t there for you when you needed it then.” his whispered apology causes you to shake your head.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you blubber out to his neck.

“and you didn’t, as well.” his hand finds its spot behind your head. with every stroke, a tear streams down. “and i want you to know that i’ll be here for you.”

in your house, your room was the only space you called home. solace built by you.

now, your home is hanbin.

present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

something about the newsroom feels odd to you. there’s nothing out of the ordinary aside from it bustling with journalists. the familiar sounds of printers and chatter from your workmates fill your ears. it’s a typical occurrence for your peers to meet their deadlines on the day itself. the tug in your gut doesn’t resemble ones formed out of your anxiety. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“where is dokyeom? i swear, this guy never shows up to the office.”

you snap out of your thoughts, looking over at chaeyeon who browses through her phone. as you shove a bill into the vending machine, a chuckle leaves you. “when is he never?”

“maybe if he finishes his coverages on time then he’d be getting enough sleep. then, he won’t be late.”

you side-eye your friend before you click on a button. “you know that’s not true.”

she sighs at the same time your bottle of iced tea drops. “yeah. apparently, if you have free time, you’re not a good journalist or some shit which i find stupid.” you grab your drink before facing her. “am i not allowed to do something else that’s not related to my job? i swear, this is why i’m single.”

“then date another journalist.” your joke earns a scowl from her.

“i’m never dating anyone in my field. a journalist dating another journalist is like,” she looks up to the ceiling as she thinks, “a long distance relationship with how much they’ll never see or have time for each other.”

a laugh erupts from you, one that may be too loud for your liking. “true.”

as you walk out of the breakroom with chaeyeon, you notice something in the corner of your eye: a brunette by the restroom. while you can’t see his face, you spot what’s in his hand and you halt in your tracks—a finger trap.

“hey, is there someone there?” your eyes snap back to your friend who looks at you in confusion. when your eyes drift back to where the brunette once was, he’s already gone. you shake your head before walking back to your desk.

the same gut feeling lingers. with a frown, you open up your article only to be met with a few comments that namjoon left last night. maybe your gut knew that you weren’t done with your work. thankfully, it’s nothing too major, and you can have them done within the next few minutes.

“there you are!” chaeyeon exclaims, causing you to look up from your screen to a panting dokyeom. “were you working on your articles again?”

“actually, i went out last night.” while you shake your head at dokyeom’s reveal, chaeyeon gasps. “yeah, i did! i actually had fun for once!”

as he nods proudly at last night’s events, she complains, “are you serious?! how come you have time to go out? i was just talking to y/n that we never have time to ourselves.”

“i’m in sports,” he points out as he shrugs his shoulders. “you’re in news.” at this point, you’re expecting the two to spiral into an argument, so you redirect your focus back to your article.

“hey, did you hear though? there’s a k-pop group in the building.” you glance at chaeyeon.

your other friend leans on the cubicle. “really? who?”

“no clue.”

dokyeom lets out a groan. “what type of journalist are you if you can’t find out?”

“yah!” chaeyeon smacks his arm, causing him to wince in pain. “says you who can never submit on time.”

“hey, i’ll have you know that minho has been understanding!”

“whatever.” she rolls her eyes before looking at you. “that means you’ll probably be handling them. i hope they’re cute so that you can finally have something going on with your life outside of work.”

a chuckle leaves you as you get back to work. “i’m never dating an idol. i’d get hunted down by their fans.”

“yeah, but can’t you dream a little? do you ever imagine what it would be like?”

the past plays in your mind. after school performances and interviews. broken-up popsicles. finger traps. a life you shared with hanbin then—one you still cling onto.

yet, you shake your head as you edit your article. “not even.”

it’s a life you’ll keep to yourself.

“what’s the update?”

the three of you look away from each other, spotting namjoon who comes to you with a smile. long gone were the sweaters that failed to drown out his figure and the boxy glasses that would rest on the bridge of his nose. now, he wears a dress shirt and trousers with hair slicked to the side. there were no frames for him to hide behind.

“ah, namjoon! you’re dressed so nice today.”

with dokyeom’s compliment, he can’t hold back on his smile. “thank you. are you guys done with your articles?”

as your friends nod, you add the finishing touches to the document. “and done! i just finished addressing your comments.”

“great. thanks, y/n.”

“do you have something?” chaeyeon asks your editor, causing you to roll your eyes. one thing about journalists is that they love to know everything.

namjoon nods before saying, “i just had a meeting with some possible interviewees.”

“is this the one with the k-pop group?” as dokyeom asks the question, you can’t help but laugh as chaeyeon looks at him in disbelief for spilling confidential information.

your editor chuckles. “yes.”

“can we know—”

“no, you can’t know.”

chaeyeon pouts at namjoon. “not even a hint?”

namjoon ignores her question and begins to walk off. “good work, y/n!” he calls out before leaving you three alone.

“man, namjoon never tells us shit,” chaeyeon complains as she leans on the table.

“to you guys, at least,” you argue with a small shrug.

still, the gut feeling remains.

something about the newsroom feels odd to hanbin. while he’s had his fair share of paranormal experiences, his gut tells him that there’s something in the office. yet, the tug isn’t one that speaks of danger. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“should we have a short break before we discuss the schedules for the photoshoots and interviews?” hanbin is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.

his manager looks at the group. “do you guys need a break?”

although everyone seemed fine with proceeding, he couldn’t shake off the feeling. maybe the leftover curry he had this morning went bad. “i’ll go,” he says as he gets off his seat.

namjoon slowly stands up. “okay, i can bring you there—”

“it’s okay! i saw the washroom on the way here,” hanbin says before walking to the door. “you can discuss the details without me first.”

with his manager’s nods, namjoon settles back into his seat. “okay then, here are some of the dates i have in mind...”

hanbin exits the room. he bites on the inside of the cheek as he thinks of what his gut could be telling him. is it the nerves for the upcoming tour? is he worried about the next comeback they’ve been preparing? or is he scared about what the future has in store for his group?

with his mind on these questions, he doesn’t realize that he arrives in front of the bathroom door. a sigh of frustration leaves him. the worst thing about gut feelings is never knowing what they’re trying to say.

he grips the handle, ready to swing the door open, until a familiar laugh hits his ears. one of the past. one he hasn’t heard in years. his muscles freeze.

when was the last time he heard that chortle? when was the last time he became the cause of it?

his eyes dart around the area for the source but no one else is here. he can’t help but shake his head in disbelief.

it should be stupid for him to think you two would ever reunite. in what world would you be in the same place as he is? it’s been 7 years. you could be anywhere around the world. yet, he fishes for something out of his pocket; the same finger trap he linked you to him rests on the palm of his hand.

he sighs before entering the washroom and shoving it back into his pocket.

maybe he’ll hold out a little longer.

winter of 2017

out of all the seasons, hanbin’s favorite is winter. snowflakes fall, filling the sky with stars that people can touch, and snow piles on sidewalks, letting him throw snowballs at his friends. despite the freezing temperatures, hanbin prefers this over nearly-boiling ones.

he can’t wait to share this season with you.

yet, the familiar, chilly breeze of the season transforms into whispers, and word gets around like thrown snowballs.

“is y/n really not going to school anymore?” hanbin looks up from his desk to see soojin standing in front of him. he tilts his head in confusion, causing her to roll her eyes. “are they not going here anymore?”

he frowns. “huh? what kind of rumor is that?”

“i don’t know. it’s what people have been saying,” she says as she crosses her arms. “i asked because i wanted to know if my competition’s gone, you know? and you’re the only one here who has an idea about their whereabouts.”

hanbin laughs in disbelief. “no, i was with them last week.”

when hanbin last saw you, you asked for space. with what’s been happening with your family, you needed time to process and cope with your issues, and he respected that. after all, he only knew a fraction of your relationship with your parents, and he didn’t want to intrude in anything you didn’t want him to be a part of. still, hanbin reminded you that he’ll be there if you need him.

“damn, that sucks,” soojin groans as her shoulders slump. “these stupid rumors.” as soon as she leaves hanbin alone, he shakes his head.

the bell rings. students start rushing into classrooms and teachers scold those who aren’t on their seats. ms. jeon enters the room, walking to the desk in front and setting her things down. “lee soojin, you’ll be in charge of attendance today.”

as hanbin’s classmate gets off her seat, he can’t help but look at your desk that still remains empty.

“you have to message us when you land,” your mother says as she fixes the collar of your coat. despite your nod, she clicks her tongue. “answer me properly.”

“yes, i will.”

once your father finishes placing the last luggage in the trunk of the taxi, he stands beside your mother. “don’t forget why we’re sending you there. we expect you to do better with no distractions.”

your phone buzzes in your hand. as you look down, you see a message from hanbin. as he asks about your whereabouts, the weight gets heavier—will you stand or crumble under it?

“who’s that?”

you stash your phone away as you look back at your parents. “nothing. it’s just an email from the school. they sent over the date for the orientation.” at the sight of their satisfied smile, you let out a small sigh of relief.

“well, go on.” your nod at your mother before getting in the car. with the windows still down, she adds, “don’t forget to get endorsement letters from the professors i sent over to you or else you won’t get to study abroad like we planned.” her choice of pronouns is funny; a plan that they crafted which never considered your input.

“okay.”

as your father commands the driver to go, your gaze remains on the two. it should be okay with you to leave cheonan; you’d be far away from your parents and experience an entirely different landscape to explore. it’s time you break away from the chains of this town. learn a life outside of what your parents forced you into.

yet, as the car takes its leave, the figure of your parents slowly shrinks. the distance from them should’ve given you the space to breathe, a relief you’ve longed for, but it only reminds you of your strained relationship. to them, it would be better that you’re out of their sight—and with your farewell, you never heard the three-word phrase.

the window rolls up. you try to hold back the tears, but the scenery of cheonan that you pass by births a storm within you. you didn’t want to say goodbye to home, regardless of how much you say you didn’t have a home in this town. every corner holds a piece of you in the same way you hold a piece of them.

the car approaches a safe haven you share. despite the snow that piles at the front, mr. kim’s convenience store is still open. you’ll never get to have his hotteok again or hear his favorite dramas play in the background. worst of all, you never got to say goodbye.

then, the familiar figure of your best friend exits the mart, and the storm transforms into a typhoon. the plastic bag he holds is filled with your favorite snacks, from the grape-flavored twin bar to a bottle of mr. kim’s homemade peach iced tea.

and in that moment that your car passes him, he pulls out his phone from his pocket, and you spot the familiar trap wrapped around his finger—the other end holds no one.

as quickly as you came into hanbin’s life, he disappears from your view.

finger traps were fascinating. if you tug hard, the contraption won’t let your fingers go. yet, if you allow the two fingers to meet, allowing the toy to loosen, it’ll let you go with no harm.

but your finger trap with hanbin was different. maybe it was already ripped to its seams.

interview

q: what made you decide on becoming an idol?

a: i’ve always loved dancing. growing up in cheonan, i always made time [for dance] whether it be [for] school competitions, talent shows, or even [choreographies] i wanted to try out. but i never considered becoming [an idol] until high school. a lot of my friends and family thought i was capable, and i’m glad they trusted me. it feels good to give back to them with every performance.

q: compared to your other members, you’ve spent a lot of years dancing and training to become an idol. what kept you going throughout your years of training?

a: my family’s support was one big thing that helped me [during my training.] every trip from my house to the company would last hours, and it drained me physically. so as the years went by, i started to question if all the time, money, [and] effort i was putting into an unpromised debut would be worth it, but my parents and sisters were always there to support and [take] care of me. but i’d also like to think my best friend was a major support in training years. i think they were the first one to [tell me that they saw me as an idol,] and at the time i brushed off the idea. but, look where i am now? so i think i owe a lot to them.

q: is there anything you’d like to say to those who’ve supported you as zerobaseone’s hanbin?

a: mom and dad, thank you for believing in me. i know it wasn’t easy to wait until midnight for me to come home or take care of me whenever i got sick from training. thank you for always supporting me in every performance. to my sister, thank you for helping mom and dad out at home. every day, i remind myself that you gave up so much just so i can pursue my dreams, and i want you know that i’m forever grateful for your sacrifices. to the rest of [zerobaseone], thank you for always allowing me to rely on you. i’m glad i can say i have brothers who i get to achieve my dreams with. zerose, thank you for your love and support over the years. i wouldn’t be zerobaseone’s leader or sung hanbin if it weren’t for you. and lastly, thank you to my best friend. i hope you’ll always be proud of me the same way i’ll forever be proud of you.

tag list: @kflixnet @blankjournal @somber-reads

#(off topic but op i really love your theme)#all these notes were made while i was reading btw. so they’re my reactions in real time #i thank you for writing this and i apologise for not being able to voice my thoughts any better than this mess of words. i tried.#🏷️ — fic recs #zerobaseone #sung hanbin #moni 🍠

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reidmania · 6 months ago

Text

inbetween | spencer reid

good riddance x spencer reid one shot series master list

summary ; after months over talking over email, you and spencer finally meet in person.

warnings ; reader & spencer fall in love over emails, meeting in person, insecure reader, insecure spencer, worries about not being enough, pretty much just pure fluff tbh.

an ; in between yall. this song. this is the first oneshot in the good riddance x spencer reid one shot series!! while i waiting for the poll to finish!!

part one, part two, part three

‘I just can't come between 'em, they got their own thing I wish he'd stop pretendin', he won't let his phone ring. For more than a couple seconds, oh, I think maybe two. two hearts just fallin' in and out of love for somethin' new. ‘i wish that you could see 'em, their faces lighten up their past is cold and empty, they know it's been enough of waitin' on somebody, someone who doesn't care but he knows her name, she knows he'll always be there’

The email rang up at exactly 5:30, exactly when you expected it to. You were sitting at your desk at work, knees pulled to ur chest as you spun on the desk chair. Your coworkers paid no mind to your antics, after working in the safe office for years, with each other. They were used to it by now.

You chewed at your lip as you refreshed your email when the clock changed to exactly 5:30, a wide smile dawned your face when you read the email, you heart ached with longing as your eyes traced over the words on the screen, your stomach tightening and your heart clenching.

Sent from [email protected] at 5:30pm

Hi.

I don’t know when this will send because I’m writing it while on the jet, probably as we get lower and more towards landing, I’ll spare you the scientific details. We only got back from a case this morning, early. Which is why it has taken me so long to reply. Im sorry.

We got a case in Maryland, which I remember you telling me, is where you live. I know I should probably just ask for your phone number but I kind of enjoy the emailing thing. It’s a lot less nerve racking because I can try to pass it off as professional, even though a lot of the time our conversations aren’t.

I actually don’t think we have ever had a professional conversation. Which is a good thing. I really enjoy our conversations no matter what we are talking about. I really enjoy talking to you.

I hope this isn’t too forward but I wanted to know if theres any chance I could see you while I’m in Maryland for this case. I don’t know when it would be or how long I’d be able to see you for, but I do really want to see you. If thats okay with you.

I guess I should give you my number, so you know I’m not some creepy old man. That would be ironic since I work at the FBI and my job is to stop people like that… I don’t know.

Heres my number, 023387677

Love, Spencer.

Your stomach tightened at the idea of seeing him in person. You never admitted it, but you knew he wasn’t an old man, you knew exactly who he was. You made the decision to google his name 6 months ago, when the two of you first started emailing back and forth after he accidentally sent a work email to the wrong person and you replied. It started as just telling him he had sent it to the wrong person, then he thanked you and apologised and made a joke and then the conversation just flowed.

You had been having conversations with Spencer Reid for six months and you felt like you knew more about him than you did yourself. He told you about his day, and about things he had been through, He opened up to you about his addiction and his mom and you opened up to him about your own trauma and issues.

Spencer Reid was your best friend and you had never met him. You had never even heard his voice. You only had seen his face on google when you searched up ‘Spencer reid FBI’ and a photo came up, he looked younger than you assumed in it, seeing the photo was from a few years ago. You felt slightly bad since you knew he could google you and probably come up empty handed — you had the upper hand.

You look at the clock as it inches closer to six o-clock when you finish work. A boring office job, you often complained to Spencer about. It was ironic since his job literally traumatised him, and yet you complained about the boring desk job, although he never ever compared, he would listen and comfort you after a bad day no matter what, just like you did for him.

You don’t reply to the email he sent as you typed the number he sent into your phone, saving the contact under ‘spence’ The nickname that had developed only weeks into the two of you talking. You send him a text, letting him know it was you, saying hi.

“Phone.” You hear your boss, warning you about using your phone at work, you lift your head an apologetic smile on your face as you close your phone, placing it face down on your desk as you close your email and return to your work after muttering out a sheepish, ‘Sorry!’

Spencer is sitting in a conference room of the police station in Maryland. He didn’t know it but he was only two blocks away from the office you worked. He never usually cared to check his phone while working — nothing could be as important as the case.

Until you, until now.

He found himself hanging out to feel the buzz in his pocket, he found himself checking his phone just in case maybe he missed the message. Just in case you did message.

He also checked his email a lot.

“Whats up with boy wonder?” Derek asked as he spun a chair to sit on it backwards, resting his arms on the back of the chair as he looked around at the other team members. Spencer focus on anything other than the case.

“He gave mystery girl his number” Emily said, patting Spencers shoulder softly to get his attention as she walked past him, placing a coffee down in front of him. Spencer noticed how it was his normal order — despite the fact lately he had been getting your order, after he found out what it was. It made him feel a little bit closer to you.

“Oo, Okay lover boy.” Derek hummed approvingly, raising his eyebrow slightly as he looked down at the boy. Spencer sighed as he let back in his chair, tossing his phone on the table as he checked to get no message. “Nothing yet?” Emily asked, knowing Spencer had been stressing since he sent the email on the jet, nearly two hours ago.

He didn’t know it hadn’t even delivered until a few minutes ago.

“Shes probably just busy” Spencer muttered as he checked his watch for the time. 5:33pm, you’d be at work.

Derek shared a look with Emily, both with teasing smiles on their faces. They had watched Spencer obsess over the girl for the past 6 months, even after he tried to hide it for the first few. He did a horrid job, they all noticed him smiling at his computer and typing away more often than ever, they noticed his focus slight adverted. It took a bit but they eventually got it out of him when you didn’t email him back for a week and he was going insane with worry that maybe you were ghosting him, or that you were hurt.

He confided in his team, you emailed him a few days later saying your wifi went down and none of your emails were going through. He was instantly relieved.

His phone buzzed on the table, 5:35pm. His hand instantly reached out for his phone. His eyes widened and his lip twitched upwards as he read the message that lit his screen.

“And lover boy is in” Derek whispered to Emily, loud enough that Spencer could hear that only ended up in Spencer sending him a glare, before typing out a reply and sending it, asking to call you tonight when he got finished.

“Alright, We got a lead” Hotch said entering the room.

You leant against the back of your head board, your hair wet and dripping down the back of your neck as you waited nervously for call to ring through your phone. You were almost terrified of what the conversation might hold. You were glad you were calling before you agreed or disagreed to meeting him, you could feel out whether or not it might be awkward or not.

You almost jumped out of your skin as your phone started ringing, anxiety pooled in your stomach as your skin flushed hot, causing the drops of water on the back of your neck feel as if it was burning the skin. You reached out for your phone that rested on your bed side table, answering the call.

“Hi.” You muttered out a breath of air. You couldn’t even help but smile as the realisation dawned on you. You were talking to Spencer. Finally, actually talking to him.

You heard a harsh breath on the other side of the phone before some shuffling. “Hold on” He mumbled out, you stomach fluttered at his voice as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you bit back a smile.

“Okay.” You said, you heard some more shuffling before the sound of a door closing, then a creek. And then a breath.

“Hi” He settled on, you sat up a bit, crossing your legs as his word came out almost breathy and nervous. It made your chest thump against your ribcage so much it ached. “Sorry— I should’ve waited till I was in my hotel room to call, I was excited— Sorry” He said.

You could hear the nerves in his voice and all it did was make your cheeks beat a rosy hue. “It’s okay. I was nervous” You admit softly, you try to hide the slight embarrassment in your voice but it fails you as your words come out small.

You hear him chuckle. You think the sound genuinely makes your mind fall empty of any coherent thoughts. “You don’t have to be nervous” He spoke so softly as if his words were an exhale he had been holding in.

“But I am” You muttered.

“Me too.” He said honestly. You found comfort in the fact he cared enough about this interaction to be nervous about it. You went to run your hand through your hair but paused with you felt the coldness — it was still very wet from your shower.

“Good” You sighed out, voice almost a whisper. You didn’t know why you were speaking so quietly, there was no one else in your house. There was no reason to be as quiet as you were.

“Is good that I’m nervous?” Spencer asked, you could hear the teasing in his voice. It made your head spin and the words get caught as you shook your head, before remembering he couldn’t see you.

“Yes- No- no. No.” You muttered out, “Its uh- Its not good that your nervous— I- Its just good that you care” You scrambled out, stuttering over your words as you grew flustered. It made you want to turn into your pillow and scream.

You heard him laugh, making your face screw up. “Shut up.” You muttered out as it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was laughing at you scrambling over your words, your free hand came up to cover your face as your cheeks felt on fire.

“No- Im sorry. Im sorry. Of course I care, you know I care” He said softly as he collected his laughter, his voice dripping honesty for a moment as he spoke genuinely in a way that made your knees feel weak — Thank god you weren’t standing. You were silent for a moment as a smile dawned on your face.

“Tell me about your day.” He requested gently. You heard some more shuffling you could only assume he was getting comfortable in bed. You pictured it and it made your stomach burn with longing. Wishing it wasn’t just an image in your head.

And you did, you told him about your day and he told you about yours; the conversation flowed simply and sweetly from then on. He teased you whenever you stuttered over your words, you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke.

You and him spoke until your voice was quiet and drowsy with sleep, until your eyes were fluttering shut and you went unresponsive for a moment before he asked if you were asleep and you would wake up to the sound of his voice, muttering out a no, to which he would chuckle, and tell you to go to sleep.

When you fell asleep, he waited ten minutes to make sure you were really asleep before hanging up. His heart full as he fell asleep smiling.

Sorry I fell asleep. If i didn’t throw you off completely and you still want to see me, im free any day after 6, when i finish work.

Spencer smiled at the message. The acceptance. You were accepting meeting him, seeing him. He couldn’t fathom the idea of anything you doing ever throwing him off. You had wiggled your way into his chest months ago, and you stayed consuming every part of him everyday since. He didn’t see that changing any day soon, or ever.

He sent you an address to a bar Derek suggested the team going to after work. He didn’t know if maybe it was too forward, or might be awkward with his team there, but at least if it didn’t go well there was people around.

He closed his phone as he waited for your reply, his mind replaying the conversation he had with you last night, how sweet you sounded, how your laugh made his heart clench, how whenever you said his name or spoke a little louder he felt light headed, unable to focus on anything but you.

There was anxiety in his stomach when he realised the two of you never quite talked about what it all meant. What the months of conversation back and forth was. He realised he didn’t know what you wanted. What you expected.

Maybe you just saw him as a friend, maybe to you the conversation is nothing more than friendly. Honestly, if that was the case Spencer didn’t think he would be able to deny you of that. He would do anything to keep you in his life, even if it caused a slight ache in his chest. He had told you things he couldn’t imagine telling anyone else, he trusted you in a way he didn’t know possible, and it may be stupid, maybe naive, but Spencer didn’t care.

The way he felt for you took over any ounce of doubt in his mind, it overtook the insecurity welling in his mind, that maybe you wouldn’t like him, not the way he liked you.

He had never felt so much for a person. He had never felt so much point blank. He could hardly fathom you feeling for him near the amount he felt for you.

Your hands traveled over your jeans softly as your palms grew sweaty as you stepped inside the bar. Thanking the guy you held it open for you as he walked out. You were instantly overwhelmed by the amount of people, the music playing and the people chatting. You probably should have gotten changed first instead of coming straight after work but you were too nervous and didn’t want to give yourself time to dwindle in your insecurities then chicken out.

You manoeuvred your way through the people, quiet apologies leaving your lips as you looked around for Spencer, or anyone who looks like they might be an FBI agent.

What does an FBI agent look like? you thought, as you let out a sigh, finally getting out of the crowd of people as you got to the back of the bar, a lot more free of space. A few people around, standing at tables. You skimmed over for a moment as you tried to catch any glimpse of the boy that you could.

You heard your name, making you spin on your heels. You saw a dark haired girl smiling at you. Well that isn’t spencer.

“Yes?” You said, smiling at her as you tried to hide the anxiety building in your veins. Your hand coming to push hair off your face softly as you try to focus on the girl in front of you. She grins widely, “Spencer is over there, you looked like you were looking for someone…” She said, my smile instantly widened as you looked over to where she nudged her head.

your breath got caught in your throat as your eyes settled on him, the photo didn’t do him justice in any way. His hair was messy and slightly grown out, he was engrossed in a conversation with who you could only assume was Derek Morgan, who Spencer had told you about. His tie was crooked in his suit as he lifted his arm to sip the drink in his hand.

you tear my eyes away as you look at the lady who is smiling at you. “Happy with that?” She asks. It takes you a moment to recognise her as Emily, whom Spencer had also told you about. You can hardly put it into words how your chest feels like its gonna explode as your heart thumps.

“He is gorgeous.” You breathe out, shaking your head as words fail you, your eyes trail back to him for a moment to see him laughing, you see his head turn towards the door, as if he is waiting for you to walk through them.

Emily smiles, patting your shoulder softly, “Cmon Mystery girl” She said, you pay little attention to the nickname as she encourages you to walk towards the table with her. Your legs feel like Jelly with every step that you take, your stomach twisting in the familiar feeling of anxiety.

When she pauses at the table your breath hitches. “Oi Reid” She mutters, both he and Derek turns their head towards her, “Look who I found” She says softly, hand brushing over your shoulder.

Spencers eyes skip over to yours and you watch an emotion pull his features. An emotion you can’t quite place and it makes your stomach ache at the uncertainty, insecurity creeping up the back of your neck.

“Hi” You breathe out as you look at him. Theres a moment of silence before he is pushing away from the table and walking around to you. His arms around you the moment you are in reach and it makes your muscles tense slightly before relaxing completely in his hold as you wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him back.

Emily and Derek watch in amusement for a moment, smiling when they see the look on Spencer’s face. The one you couldn’t place the one they knew all too well.

He was in love.

He was in love before seeing you, he knew that but watching you stand there grinning at him made him all the more sure about it. His hand rested on your waist as he pulled back from the hug to look at your face.

“Hi” He whispered back.

You chewed at your lip at you bit back the wide smile that tried to force its way into your features. His hand traveled up to your face before he could stop it hand cupping your face gently.

You eased, leaning into his touch the warmth of his hand feeling gentle against the soft skin of your cheek. “Y-You- I- Hi.” He stuttered this time.

You grinned, “Cat got your tongue?” You ask, teasing him like he would every-time you stuttered over the phone. He just grins in response.

“No. You’re beautiful” He said, eyes dancing over your face, he looked at you like he was trying to memories every little detail. Your stomach tightens and your knees felt weak as the compliment left his mouth. You had been told that before, but it felt different coming from him. He said it with honesty and sincerity.

“So are you” You said back before hugging him tightly again. He didn’t complain at all, instead his arms fell tightly around your waist as he held you against him, as if he was scared that if he let go you would disappear.

The night went on, you stayed by spencer’s side, his hand on yours or around your shoulder gently as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of you being next to him. You never complained — you took it all as a compliment and leant into his touch.

“Are you cold?” Spencer asked as you and him walked outside of the bar, hand in hand. he noticed the way you shivered as the cold hair hit the skin of your bare arms. You turn your head to look up at him, the look in his eye enough to make your chest clench around the fat of your heart.

“A little” You admit. It was nothing you couldn’t handle, but spencer was instantly pulling off his suit jacket for you, slugging it gently over your shoulders as the two of you walked down the street. You paused in your steps as you looked up at him.

“Thank you.” You say.

“Its okay- I don’t want you to be cold” He said softly. You couldn’t help but smile at his kindness, but you shook your head. “For that too— But I meant, for asking to see me. Thank you for thinking of me when you heard about where the case was — for talking to me everyday. Thank you for being my best friend Spence” You said softly as you lean against your car as you and him stop in front of it.

His lip twitches upwards into a smile as his hand drops yours instead resting softly on your lips. “I always think of you.” He admits, eyes on yours.

Your breath gets caught in the back of your throat. “Spencer.” You say softly.

He looks at you, really looks at you. He is seeing you. He is seeing every little thing you have told him over the last six months, every little detail about you there was to know, and all he could think about was he wanted more, he wanted to know you more.

“Yeah?” He says, his voice a whisper.

You feel anxiety pool in your stomach as the question lingers on the tip of your tongue. There was a pull towards him you couldn’t ignore, the same pull you felt when you received his email, six months, 2 weeks and 3 days ago. You’d count the hours but you figured that was more his style.

“You can say no, I want you to know that” You said, you wanted to make it perfectly clear that his response to this was completely up to him and you didn’t want to feel pressured. “Can I kiss you?” You ask.

His lips are on yours before you can even finish the question. One hand of his travelling to the small of your back to bring you in closer while the other tangles in your hair, cradling the back of your neck. Your hands instantly cup his face as you press your lips against him. Your lips together saying more than words ever could.

This, right here, him, right now.

It was everything and more.

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jayden-killer · 11 months ago

Text

Greediest man in the Stone World.

summary: you've just being awaken by your old friend and classmate, Senku, in a whole new human era. But, who's this young guy claiming you as his? a/n: waahh, i sincerly apologise if i disappeared...again. i literally forgot my tumblr writing page, and life took a.. strange turn of events(?) kinda. i hope this first ryusui one shot will make me forgive!!!

☆

Dark. And then... a golden beam of light passed through my eyes, blinding me. My muscles began to melt. I felt them sore, as if I had slept in an uncomfortable position all night. Or maybe, for three thousand and fifty years. This was what was brought back to me when I woke up from that sleep I thought was eternal. The first thing my eyes noticed when they hatched was a blinding sun. There was so much green. So much vegetation was not seen even in the well-preserved jungles. Then, a group of boys with familiar and unfamiliar faces. My eyes met his.

"Senku..?"

I uttered that name in a subtle tone of voice, and the boy did nothing but address to me that mischievous grin of his own.

"Yoh, Y/N...we need your help".

[ Time skip...(*ゝω・)ﾉ ]

"So... you need my dexterity in putting these little pieces together so you can build, um... Repeat it, thank you".

"An oxygen tank" Senku rest, without even thinking of getting that smirk off his face.

His attitude hadn’t disappeared after 3,700 years. Not even when he claimed in front of a professor that their speeches were meaningless.

Here we go again...

Between a sigh and the other I immediately set to work, while in the distance I heard Senku arguing with what seemed to be his colleague.

Just in the middle of my work I felt someone touching my shoulder gently. A delicate touch, like that of a…

"Child?"

The girl in question wore a watermelon helmet on her head, with lenses inserted in the two holes that created a space for the eyes. She made a sound of wonder, her hands to her mouth.

"So, you are new here!"

With a confused look I lowered myself to her level, able to have a face-to-face conversation with the little creature. " I suppose so..? And you are...?" That little girl who didn’t immediately show her intentions and courage was pretty to say the least.

"Suika wanted to welcome you to the Science Team!" she said clearly, now showing me her hand to shake her. I took her, and with a kind smile, I accepted her request. "How kind of you! Since I am now a new addition to your team, can I have the honor to meet my future colleagues and companions?"

Little Suika nodded happily, running in the opposite direction where I was working. Heck. Maybe it was me who was no longer a child like her, but Suika seemed really fast in the race, not giving me a chance to keep up. I didn’t know where she was taking me; we passed through several huts, erected on wooden structures, running as if someone was after us.

The only one chasing her was me. Looking back to see if we’d actually drifted apart, my foot tripped on a double-sized rock. The collision with the stone made me lose my balance; I was ready to crash on the dirty ground and have some bruises all over my face for a few days. Only that never happened. In the instant that I was about to feel my face against the damp soil, two arms wrapped my waists not too strong, but with determination, preventing me from slipping a second time. I didn’t even realize I closed my eyes.

"It’s not even the first day you’re back here on Earth, and you were destined to get hurt. Pff, not very convenient for our team, huh?"

A moment later my eyes sprang to meet his, and those eyes reminded me of an autumn now close to winter. " Well, lady killer, now you might as well put me down. I’m not meant to be your princess." I said authoritatively. His powerful arms let go of my body, and with a little thump my butt bounced off the ground.

What an idiot!

Not only was he now laughing at me with a fat laugh, as if I had just said the funniest joke on Earth, but he didn’t even deign to preseed himself! The blond slightly lowered his head, as I was still on the ground, and with an energetic voice he replied:

"Not yet", later going in the opposite direction, with firm step. Oh, what kind of weird I had in front…

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"Become mine! With all my Drago you would become the luckiest woman in the world!"

Somebody kill me...

It had been two months since I had made my unexpected (better to say, unlucky) acquaintance with blondie, who had the name of Ryusui Nanami. With his egocentrism and sheer avarice, he had proved to be one of the most promising members of the Kingdom of Science so far, with great skills for navigation. Apparently he came from one of the wealthiest families in Japan, and he certainly had not lost the habit of being indulged in everything, even after 3,500 years. And since our first meeting, he hasn’t stopped trying once. On every occasion he would give me his flirtations comments (sometimes shabby), he would become handsy, or he would try to buy me with his stupid Drago.

I was not one of those women who was so easily deceived, especially if a situation was about money. He thought I would give in so easily. I was so determined to prove to him the opposite, during these months, that this would give him up. With a gesture of the hand, I pushed him away. " I’m sorry, Ryusui. As I’ve explained many times before, I’m not interested." I took a dramatic break. ".. to you."

He whined loudly like a little baby, fogetting his money behind to get close to me. "You’re making a mistake!"

"I have made many mistakes in my life," I answered sharply.

"Then add another to your long list." I nailed him down with my sharp look, sketching a tight smile. Nothing to do. That man would never wave the white flag in the sky. However, it was becoming a nuisance, and having it close to me like a fin was starting to run out. For the worse.

I had only one idea that could have saved me in that instant, from a near future in which he was no longer clinging to me like an octopus: make him believe he had a chance with me. A bold idea; nevertheless, it had to be tried. Either it will make it or break it.

"Maybe, in the future, you might have a chance…" I implied in a vague tone, already heading somewhere, any, to get him off my back. I could swear to see his eyes shining remarkably with hope, and a new fire, fueled by determination.

He snapped his fingers, his iconic gesture that everyone, by now, had learned to recognize, and if he did, it was because he decided to do something. There were no roads back.

"HA-HA!" His laughter seemed to flow throughout the Ishigami village. Even Senku and Chrome turned to us, with confused scowls, to see what was so funny at the time. But Ryusui found nothing amusing in this situation, except a challenge to complete.

"So be it! I’ll show you how much I’m willing to change your mind. Anything to get the chance to become yours!"

Though I did not turn to look at him, once again, his muscular arms clasped my waists, turning my body to meet his. Face to face. "You, damned Nanami, what do you want now?!" That gesture had taken me by surprise, because he was not used to come so near me, but with his cheeky smile, he kissed me on both the cheeks. A quick gesture that made me blush remarkably in my face, almost to feel it burn under the palms of my hands.

"What the f...?!"

"You don’t know it, but you’re already mine!"

#dr. stone #senku #dr stone x reader #ryusui nanami #ryusui nanami x reader #senku ishigami #senku ishigami x reader #senku x reader #ryusui x reader #anime imagines #anime and manga #anime x reader #gen asagiri #imagine #one shot #sfw

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plasticferal · 1 year ago

Note

hey girlie, i NEED car sex matt pls😣🙏

shut up and drive | matt sturniolo.

authors note: thank you for the request! i hope i did it justice in these 3.9k words. not proof read! sorry it takes me forever to write lol.

warnings: 18+ content. road head, handjob, fingering, soft switch!matt, somewhat dom!reader, explicit language, unprotected, semi-public indecency. reader discretion advised.

matt has a bad, almost neck breaking habit of staring at you while he's driving. you can feel his eyes on you, then glancing away, then looking through his peripheral vision to make sure you're not about to call him out.

"you're so pretty, baby" he speaks, admiring you. you chuckle, shifting in the car seat. bringing a hand around to his headrest, you play with his hair. he grips just above your knee with one hand, the other secure at the bottom of the wheel.

“eyes on the road, matthew” you tug at his hair with a warning.

he groans in complaint, a tone that would indicate he's annoyed but deep down, he loves it. he loves the sound of your direct voice, telling him to do something and then expecting it from him.

you're the only person who could make a demand and it not get under his skin, because you always mean it from a good place. that, and the fact he's utterly infatuated by you.

"you could have just said thank you" he mumbles, taking it as a hit to his joviality.

"thank you, my love" and he smiles softly and timidly at you, cheeks flushing pink at your words alone. you squeeze his cheeks to turn his head back to the road ahead and he laughs.

you smile at him with admiration. how good he looks with his sleeves rolled up at the wrists, hand lazily on the bottom of the steering wheel, silver rings wrapping around his long, slender fingers. the road ahead is empty, no cars around and the only sound being matt humming along to the music.

the sun is finally setting, and you're both drained. he's driving you both home, fidgeting in his seat as the trip feels far too long. his hips wriggle, and you can tell he needs a break from driving. the views surrounding you are monotonous, making you both heavy-eyed.

"sorry," his voice is meek, small yawn escaping his lips.

"don't apologise, matty." you laugh inwardly.

"i know, i do that a lot," he agrees, shaking off his tiredness.

if there's one person in this world he's going to agree with, it's you. even if you're completely wrong in a statement, or an idea, he's agreeing with you without justification.

"can i have a kiss?" he asks wholesomely, leaning his cheek over a little, one hand still glued to the steering wheel.

"do you think you deserve one?" you ask him warmly, turning in your seat so your body is toward him.

"i do" he nods.

"you have been good, baby." you admit.

you can already tell that matt is tense, your touch in any way at all making his skin hot. he’s been on his best behaviour the entire drive, knowing his reward at the end is you.

"i know, just for you." he speaks softly, proudly.

you exhale amusement, elbow resting on the centre console so you can get closer to matt. pressing your lips to his cheekbone, his face is warm. either from blushing or the heat he has blasting. he smiles sweetly, and satisfied.

you raise a hand to behind his headrest to start playing with his hair again. you scratch the back of his neck lightly, massaging where you can. he melts at the feeling on your nails raking through.

"that feels so good," his voice is like a record player, smooth but a little scratchy.

matt rests his right hand above your knee, giving you a squeeze to say thank you. he keeps his hand there, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

matt is still restless in his seat. you can tell by the way he's rubbing his thighs together, appearing uncomfortable. not being able to sit still.

"you feeling okay?" you ask, observing your boyfriend.

"yeah, baby" he looks at you for a split second, cautious not to linger.

you love watching him drive. the effortlessness, knowing he's in full control, the way he leans back into his seat.

readjusting in your own spot, scooting a little, his hand is forced further up your thigh. you lay your hand over his, pulling it closer up to the crease where your leg meets your hip. you feel matt's eyes dart to gaze down to where he's touching you, needing to see. you force his head back by the base of his neck, and he huffs.

"that's not fair, you're distracting me.” he comments lightheartedly.

"i'm not even doing anything" you speak defensively.

"yeah, well, it doesn't take much" he scoffs, but you know exactly what you’re doing.

you’ve been hinting all day that you can’t wait to get him home and have him all to yourself, but the temptation is tested the further into the drive you get.

"if i really wanted to distract you, i'd do this," you move your hand from his hair, to rest in his lap.

you’re blatant with your action, hand over the zipper of his pants, cupping his buldge. matt grips the steering with both hands, glancing down for a second and muttering a quick “fuck” under his breath.

“that’s really not fair” his voice quivers.

"you don't want me to touch you?" you ask sweetly. in a way that drives him insane.

your hand dances across his crotch through his jeans, his dick slowly revealing a more prominent shape under the blue fabric as he hardens. his dick leans toward his right leg, and your hand wraps around him over his pants.

"fuck, no. i mean- yes. shit, i do. just not now" he shakes his head, shifting in his seat as he positions his hands on the wheel at ten and two.

"so no touching?" you ask, rubbing him softly as he grows in your hand.

you caress his cock as his breaths become short, pulse elevating as you play with him. you feel his dick twitch as you squeeze him, and he grips the steering wheel tight enough you can hear the leather squeak.

"not while i'm driving baby, please" he whines, voice shaking as you ignore his plea and continue rubbing him, leaning over the seat so you can get a proper hold.

"you haven't been touched all day, huh baby?" you're close to his ear, and your breath hitting the skin on his neck has matt almost turning off the road.

it's taking all of his self control not to slam on the brakes. your distraction has him cautiously slowing down, despite there being no one around on the long stretch. distant headlights can be seen, a glowing blur, strained lights. but no one close enough to see your next moves.

"fuck, you're such a tease" he sighs, eyes glaring into the windshield ahead.

abruptly, you let go of his crotch. and he turns to you with furrowed eyebrows, like he hadn't just requested you stop touching him.

"you said not while you're driving. so now you can wait" you can shrug, innocently snuggling back into your spot, out of his space.

matt's mouth makes a tight ‘o’ shape, blowing out a stressed breath, like he’s whistling, but it’s silent. his nostrils flare quickly and he twists his hands on the wheel, as if to distract himself.

he rubs his hips into the seat beneath him again, and you watch as his jaw shifts, back teeth grinding momentarily. the subtle goatee on his face shadows his jaw, chin and upper lip. he looks irresistible.

matt tries to ignore his boner, but it's so prominent. he hisses through his teeth, trying to tuck himself into the band of his boxers with one hand, but anytime he swerves slightly, he gets annoyed and gives up. you bite your lip, trying to inhale back a giggle at his desperation.

"sweetheart, you need to do something about this. i-it hurts," matt's voice is strained with complaint.

you lick your lips slowly, staring at him. he turns his head to reciprocate a dark, sultry look in his eyes.

as much as you want to continue toying with him, you click your seatbelt off, gaining his attention immediately. pulling yourself up onto the leather car seat, positioning to get your knees, you guide your body over the centre console again.

this time, crawling your hands all over the leather details of his car, you grab the bottom of his seat to hold yourself up, dipping your head under his arms that are stretched out, you let your face hover over his lap.

you feel matt's eyes try to lower his gaze, to watch you over his thighs, but simultaneously force himself to be unaware of your actions.

“eyes on the road” you speak, delicate fingers pinching the zipper on his jeans to guide it down, pulling the material open to reveal his navy blue boxers, complimenting his olive skin.

you sweep your hand under the thin fabric to free his erection, tip already glistening with pre-cum. the build up from being tested all day finally coming to fruition.

"you got this worked up just from my touch?" you huff a laugh, mouth hovering over his cock once you finally free him completely.

matt's hips buck up, lower back no longer hitting the seat, arching toward you. stroking his cock in your warm hands, letting the blood rush to his pink, throbbing tip, your mouth is inches away from his length.

"this is so dangerous" his voice is unsteady, knuckles turning white with how hard he's gripping the wheel.

"shut up and drive, matthew." the second your words are out, you bridge the gap between your mouth and his dick.

quickly falling into a rhythm as you bob your head up and down on his dick, his hips jolt up into your mouth as he drives over a speed bump, making you gag.

"ahhhh, sh-shit, y/n" he groans, eyes fluttering as he tries to keep his focus on the road.

you grip his thigh, nails digging into his jeans. you hear his head loll back and hit the headrest with a thud, straining his neck as he swallows loudly. his eyes occasionally drop down to absorb the act you're putting on for him.

he drops a heavy hand onto your head, pushing your head slightly, making you take him deeper. he smirks, relishing in the choking sounds escaping your breathless moans. your hand comes up to place it on top of his, challenging him.

"oh, yeah," he huffs, interlocking your hands as he pushes your head to sink deeper and deeper with each dip of your head, making your eyes water and muffled noises escape, maintaining your breath through your nose.

he's trying his best to keep the acceleration of the car at one speed, his legs jerking and jolting every so often when he feels the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, making his driving unpredictable.

you feel his head turn and shift, checking his mirrors and blind spots, panicking anytime a car drives past on the opposite side of the road.

the vibrations of your moans combined with the tightness of your throat as you choke around him is sending the sensation straight to his balls, being tightened by his jeans cupping them.

"you're gonna make me fucking crash, sh-shit" he whines, jaw dropping as moans sporadically fall from his tongue.

matt can't take it any longer, yanking you dramatically from his dick, popping your mouth off of him with a wet sound as you coughed into the air, finally gasping a clean breath. your hand instinctively wipes your mouth, covered in his pre-cum and your own saliva.

you look up at him with big eyes, and that sends him absolutely off the rails.

"that was so fucking risky, i can't believe you," matt adjusts his grip, accelerating as he finds a clear patch of a dirt road ahead, aiming for it. your arms leans toward his dashboard, flicking his indicator on for him. you grin mischievously, biting your lip.

"then pull over so you can fuck me properly" you demand, and feel his car swerve instantly as he merges off the asphalt.

he rotates the wheel, one hand over the other in a heavy handed way, to find a safe place to park. the tyres crackle with the texture beneath you changing to gravel. your hand continues to stroke his shaft, mouth drooling with the desire to suck him off again.

matt's abs are clenching hard, back coming off from the seat again with a wince as your thumb rubs the underside of his now wet, sticky, cock.

"baby you're killing me, h-hold on, please," he whimpers, big hand coming down to grip your wrist tight as he frantically tries to put his car in park, heavy pedalling the brake finally.

matt flicks his hazards on, taking precaution even in his most chaotic, desperate state of mind. when the car is secure, your mouth comes down to suckle on his tip, before sliding down the length of his cock again. matt finally drops his shoulders and eases into the seat comfortably, not having the added stress of driving.

"feels so good, holy shit," his eyes clench closed before he exhales, snapping them back open to watch you engulf him again.

slushing and slurping sounds overtake the music playing from the radio and matt chokes on his strained groans.

he knots your hair in his fist to pull you off again, but you continue rotating your wrist around his base. with your hair in his grip, matt pulls you to his face quickly, his jaw slack. there's a dazed look on his face, mesmerised by you as you lock eyes.

"don't stop jerkin' me off, baby" he begs, holding your face close to his, noses almost touching as you breath into each others mouths. you feel your pussy clench and grow more wet at his hopeless tone.

"don't fucking stop." he whispers, crashing your lips together, moaning at the taste of himself on your tongue.

the kiss is a mess, and trying to focus on linking your mouths in unison while stroking him passionately prove harder than you anticipate. you break the kiss, needing to watch your hand, but matt grabs your chin to turn you back.

"look at me. i'm s-so close"

"use your manners" you smile, pressing your lips together again, then breaking it, then kissing him again. he interrupts it with a gasp when you start pumping more vigorously.

"s-sorry. please. i need to look at you when i cum. so fucking pretty" he darts his eyes from yours, to your lips, his own lips shiny and perfectly pink.

you want to let him finish as fast as possible, squeezing him and stroking him strenuously, rolling your thumb over his tip and pinching it, getting him overly stimulated and out of breath. your lips brush, but don't fully meet as his breath shakes and he gasps and groans.

your hand is starting to cramp, but you ignore the pain as you fuck his dick with your palm, and matt raises his hand to grip the headrest of the passenger seat beside him, letting his hips adjust and thrust into your touch. "just like that, just like th-that" he cries out, blue eyes glued on yours as he tries not to roll them into the back of his head.

"ugh, fuck," he chokes.

projecting his hips upward as he throws his head back, matt finally releases, making a complete mess into your hand. you attempt to cup his tip, letting his hot, thick cum spray your palm.

the look on his face is pure euphoria, eyes heavy and breathing hitched. he grazes his teeth on your lips, trying to take you into another kiss, but he's occupied letting his orgasm play out. he looks so perfect when he's cumming, and coming down from it.

"feel better, my love?" you ask gently.

waiting for his response, you reach into the glovebox to grab tissues you know he conveniently has stashed, courtesy of it being chris's usual spot, and the mess he often brings to the car.

"i need to get out of these fucking jeans" he complains while readjusting the material of his crotch, making you chuckle as you clean your hand off, tossing the tissue onto the floor mat.

you pick yourself up, awkwardly trying not to collide with the sunroof as you start to climb into the backseat. giving matt a full shot of your ass, he slaps it lazily, still trying to regain his thoughts.

"get back here so i can help you with them" you say as you drop onto the tan coloured leather, leaning into the corner, back hitting the door.

"someone's gonna see us, y/n" he undoes his seatbelt, in contrast of his words.

"matthew, get your ass back here" you disregard his worry, knowing if you don't reassure him, or aren't stern, he'll let his stress consume him, when all you want is to make him feel good.

between the sun almost being fully set, the lack of liveliness surrounding you and the solid twenty percent on the glass, you're certain not a single soul would notice or care for what's bound to happen in the backseat.

"messin' with me all day and now you're giving orders" he ridicules, turning in his spot to brace the crawl into the back with you.

he shoots a glare at you as he supports himself, trying to keep stable. he presses his palm to the upholstered roof.

"and you're taking them, like a good boy" you affirm, starting to slide off your own pants, and panties, spread wide open by the time matt lowers himself to you.

"fuck" he lets out at the sight of you.

his knees are on the seat between your legs, and he shuffles his pants further and further down his thighs, hurrying to free himself.

he drops back onto his ass with an 'umph' sound, needing to get his jeans to his ankles, and when you strip free of your own lower half, you tug his off completely, throwing them into the front seat.

there's a considerable amount of room in the back, having the luxury of a mini van in your favour.

you scoot over to matt, who's man spreading, and stroking himself slowly. it only takes minutes before he's growing hard again, and you situate yourself on his lap.

his hands come to grip your hips, rubbing your skin soothingly, making you feel so small in his touch. he slides under the fabric of your shirt, and you help him remove it. your arms clash and collide with the roof, both of you giggling at the restriction.

he's looking at you like you're fuel to light a fire between his legs again, and it doesn't take long before he's erect, and all you want is to be filled.

"you just couldn't wait, huh?" he teases as he flicks hair off your neck, seeing it stick to your skin from the sweat forming.

you place your hands over his shoulders, pulling yourself closer to his chest. your exposed cunt is soaked already, and he knows he needs to feel you in the state you're in.

matt brings one hand between your legs, letting it brush up between your folds. he hums in delight, sliding through you with ease. you suck in a shaky breath as the tip of his middle finger traces over your pulsating clit, giving a light circling motion.

he arches his middle and ring finger underneath your entrance, palm to the sky.

"sink onto my fingers, baby" he directs, and you rise in your straddling position to align yourself perfectly.

slowly but surely, you let yourself get stretched out by his touch. his other hand is occupied by his own cock. he curls inside of you, grazing your inner wall.

you toss your head back and allow yourself to revel in the sensation. it feels good, but you need more. you grind onto his fingers, and matt notices your impatience.

he pulls you off him without hesitation and manhandles you, taking control by grabbing your waist and lining you up over his cock.

"this is what you wanted all day. isn't it, baby?" he tests. you nod eagerly.

you feel his plump tip tickle your pussy, a touch too light for your liking. you try to sway your hips, to gain anymore friction, but he has full advantage to start teasing you back now.

"fuck, please matt," you finally spit out, not having any desire to mess around anymore. being exactly what he needed to hear, he drops you onto his cock, a heavy and loud slap as your ass hits his thighs.

you lean back, gripping his knees, arching your back. finally being filled, you moan and squeak through tight teeth. letting out strained 'ohhh's' and 'fuck, yes, yes' on repeat, like a broken record.

"you ride my dick so fucking good" he slaps your ass, hard, making your body jolt as you bounce up and down.

your hands become unsteady, and you reposition to press up against the glass window. the windows are hazing over with steam. they're turning from black to grey, leaving a very distinct hand print. one matt probably has no intention of wiping clean.

matt starts kissing your neck every time your head drops to the side with pleasure, impossible not to whimper when he started nibbling on it. he gets more satisfaction out of watching you, giving you what you want.

“matt” you moan out his name, biting your lip after, trying not to make much noise. it's a natural instinct as you're usually never this far away from being heard.

“yes?” he asks. smartass. his beard tickles your skin as he rubs against you, inhaling your scent and the salty taste of your skin.

“i'm close, s-so close” you stutter.

you vigorously shake your head, trying your best to hold off your impending orgasm. he forces your hips further down onto his dick, driving you closer to the edge.

he pulls you into a deep, slow kiss for a few seconds and pulls away with your bottom lip in between his teeth. he starts tugging and pulling at your nipples with his fingers while using his tongue everywhere else, licking your chest and biting marks.

your core tightens and you gasp, giving matt a silent look that tells him you're about to release. you know he'll demand you look at him as you do so, so you take his jaw in your hand, probably grabbing a little too aggressively, but he doesn't seem to mind.

you hold eye-contact as you pull your faces close. you roll down onto him with all your weight, feeling his dick twitch inside you, and let yourself climax, hips jittery and weak. if matt wasn't holding you, you'd collapse.

he slides you off slowly, both of you watching the loss of contact happen. matt lays you down beside him as you catch your breath. you're both trying to escape your delirious states, sitting it total silence for a moment in the suddenly overwhelmingly hot car.

your faces are covered in sweat, and you're convinced you've been the least desirable that you have been all day. matt makes those thoughts disappear the moment turns to look at you, slouched in his seat, and huffs out a smile.

he slaps your thigh, using a grip on you to help him sit up. you love the afterglow plastered on his face, the interior light casts an orange shadow, and matt is looking at you with admiration.

"don't ever tease me like that again. not unless you want me to get into a car accident." he pants.

"no promises, knowing that's what it gets me." you giggle while turning into the seat, knowing you've been stirring the pot all day.

"shut up." he laughs.

end.

tag list: @luverboychris @recklessmatt @floofparker @teampurpleforlife @letstripsturniolo @imwetforyourmom @fake-sturniolos

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo one shot #shut up and drive

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lynnie-ee · 4 months ago

Text

Day 6; Intimidation.

╰┈➤"Being stared at by one of the Leech Twins could scare anyone at Night Raven College, even you, especially if there's no apparent reason behind it. Jade, on the other hand, believes his plan to hint his feelings for you is working greatly."

╰►Gender neutral reader, oneshot, 1.4k words.

╰► Character: Jade Leech.

╰►Note: The prompts are based on words I found interesting and then I put them on a roulette to decide when I would write about them, lol. English is not my first language, so please let me know if there are any grammatical mistakes <3. Not proof read, I haven't written in a long time, so I apologise if anything is out of character.

╰►Masterlist / Inktober Masterlist.

⤿

Jade Leech has got his eyes on you for two weeks now.

At first, it only happened when you were in the hallways, but you didn't think much of it because, there were a lot of students, why would he be looking at you?

Then it was at the cafeteria when you were surrounded by your first-year friends, but that meant nothing because they were pretty loud, there were a lot of reasons why he could be staring.

But then it happened at the library when it was just Grim and you, which was weird, but perhaps he was looking at your little friend, maybe finding ways to blackmail him into working at Mostro Lounge again.

You've made a lot of excuses about it, thinking that it'd be narcissistic to believe he was solely staring at you, but now, as you are seated at one of the few benches that were around the Botanical Garden, with Jade only a few meters away, you could feel his gaze piercing you.

And it was fucking scary.

He worked casually on some annotations as he looked at a few mushrooms in the area, which made you wonder how seemed to be deeply focused on it while still managing to feel like he was staring at your soul.

'I was just looking for a peaceful place to study, Great Seven.'

You sighed, already tired of such attention upon you, which only fuelled the frustration you already felt due to that damn alchemy assignment you couldn't do properly.

Once again doing the assignment incorrectly, you turned towards where your pencil case was lying, looking for an eraser.

"You did the third step wrongly."

The voice of vicehousewarden echoed through the garden, as you lifted your face to observe him, realising he was staring at the mushrooms instead of you, making you wonder how he was even able to see your notebook from so far.

“Thank you, I’ll correct it when I get back to my dorm.” You answered trying to be polite, an awkward smile on your expression, as you grabbed your pencil case to start packing up your things, instead of just grabbing the eraser. You had enough of that psychological torture already.

“A pity that you’re leaving so soon, Prefect.” He commented as you got up from your seat.

“Yeah, I’ve to run some errands today. Goodbye, Jade.”

“Goodbye, good luck with your errands.” The vicehousewarden spoke with his usual mischievous smile, as if he knew you’d go home straight away after leaving the Botanical Garden, away from his prying eyes.

What the hell was wrong with him…?

⤿

You wished that was the last time you were under the petrifying gaze of Jade Leech, but as usual for your luck, it wasn’t. In fact, you already had started to get used to it. This was Night Raven College, having a second-year student stare at you like a predator to his prey probably wasn’t even on your top five of the strangest things you’ve gone through ever since you arrived.

"Do you think Trein's going to put the class of this week into the next test?" Deuce questioned, as you walked along him, Ace walking behind with Grim. All of the classes of the day were already finished, and Deuce offered his room to finish one of the group homework that Crewel assigned last week.

"I think he said he would." Ace answered, balancing Grim on one of his shoulders.

"You both talk like you'll study for the test, how cute." You commented, chuckling softly, your laugh stopping immediately as out of nowhere, Jade appeared in front of you.

"Prefect, it's nice to see you." The vicehousewarden greeted, ignoring the panicked expression of the Heartslabyul first-years beside you. "I was wondering if you'd come to Mostro Lounge tomorrow, after class." He questioned politely.

"Tomorrow...? At Mostro Lounge?" The question escaped your lips, as your mind wondered what he could want from you.

"Yes, that's what I said." He reassured, his smile more insistent than usual.

"Yeah, sure..." You answered, mostly out of uneasiness, considering how widely known was around the school about the terrors of those who made the Leech Twins get annoyed.

"Wonderful, I'll wait for you, please be punctual." The second-year remarked, before turning around to continue his walk.

...

"Prefect, did you get into a deal with Azul?!"

"What the hell did you do wrong?! Messing with Octavinelle is awful, man...You're probably working at Mostro Lounge for at least 2 months."

"But I didn't do anything!" You excused yourself immediately.

"You didn't...? Then why did Jade ask you to go to Mostro Lounge?"

"I've got no idea..." You mumbled, sighing in exasperation. First the stares, and now this...

"Maybe you did something without noticing." Deuce suggested with a nervous tone.

"If that's the case, you're screwed, Prefect. Good luck with that, we'll visit you at your shifts at Mostro Lounge."

"Thanks for the support, boys." You commented sarcastically.

⤿

This was it, the moment of truth.

You walked through the doors of Mostro Lounge, your expression as confident as you could, even if you were behind scared. You wondered all day what exactly you did to be stalked by Jade Leech and then asked to come to his dorm, because there surely was an explanation for it. Still, when it came to Octavinelle's vicehousewarden, you knew it was safer to wonder rather than be involved with him.

"You arrived perfectly on time." Was the first comment from the second-year student as soon as they arrived. "Please follow me." He indicated the way towards a more secluded room of the Mostro Lounge, which you followed without complaint. You were already there, might as well you could try your best not to bother him.

As he stood in front of you, you wondered once again why could he ask you to come talk to him, perhaps it was Grim who got into a problem, maybe he wanted to blackmail you, or he even could want to persuade you into making a deal with-

"I asked you to come because I had a question for you, so I apologize if it was inconvenient for you at all." He started, your body getting stiff, as if getting ready for a fight. "I was wondering if you perhaps wanted to go on a hike with me this weekend?"

...

"A hike, you say?" You asked, startled, as he nodded. "You mean, just the two of us?" That was bad, wasn't it? What if he wanted to take you to a lonely place to make you disappear or something of the sort?

"Yes, just the two of us." He replied. "Or at least, that was what the book suggested-"

"What book?" You questioned, confused.

"Ah, just a book I read about human custom. It said humans usually liked dates on open spaces, or where they could do activities outdoors. Perhaps you aren't the kind of person that likes them? I could come up with other kinds of ideas indoors, if you'd like." The vicehousewarden explained, his voice steady as usual.

'Did he say date...?'

"No, I do like being outside and all of that, it's just that...You asked me to come here to ask me out?"

"Yes. My previous plans didn't seem to be working, so I figured it'd be best to approach you directly."

"What previous plans?"

"Well, the book explained that humans usually express interest through eye contact, is that correct?" The second-year questioned with a genuine expression that almost seemed adorable.

"Eye-contact...? Well, uhm..." You mumbled, wondering when you ever made eye contact with Jade at all. Wait. "You mean, like the times when you stared at me in class?"

"Indeed, was it effective?"

"It certainly caught my attention, for sure..." You mumbled, relieved to learn that his intentions seemed to be way less dangerous than you thought at first.

"I'm glad to hear that. Then, would you like to join me for a hike?"

You considered his words for a second, wondering whether it'd be a good idea or not. But after so much time being chased by his gaze, and so many hours thinking about the reason behind it, you considered a date wouldn't hurt, wouldn't it? He had perseverance, at least.

"I'd love to join you, Jade."

"I'm glad to hear that." He chuckled softly, surprising you with how cute he actually looked when he didn't stalk you through school hours.

"Jade."

"Yes?"

"From now on, if you want to learn about human customs, just ask me, okay?"

"In that case, I'll be more than pleased to be your student, Prefect." He replied, the small smile still on his face as he looked at you with his mismatched eyes.

Well, perhaps you wouldn't mind being the one staring at him now.

⤿

#twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oneshot #disney twst #twst x you #twisted wonderland jade #twst oneshot #twst jade #jade leech x reader #lynnie's post

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starleska · 2 years ago

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how would wally react to a neighbor who uses ASL (sign language) to talk?

i love your head canons!

thank you very much!!! you're so kind :3c ooooh this is a wonderful idea, thank you for sending it in!! just to let you know - i'm British (unfortunately), and my personal experience of sign language is influenced by BSL, so i've tried to make this widely applicable for anyone who may use sign language. i hope you don't mind! 🥰

Wally Darling x Reader Who Uses Sign Language headcanons

⭐ Wally is versed in several types of sign language, as well as Makaton and lip-reading. as a neighbourly fellow who is ever-curious about the lovely people who stumble into his life, Wally realised early on that communication via voiced speech alone wasn't inclusive, practical, or possible for some of his friends. in fact, Wally first began learning sign language to communicate with Julie, who has a tendency to become nonverbal when overwhelmed. soon, Wally and the rest of the neighbourhood realised the enormous benefits of being versed in sign language, and began hosting impromptu classes to practice their signing. everyone in the neighbourhood is able to communicate well through sign language, but Wally is undoubtedly the most fluent! ⭐ when Wally first meets you, he is adorably excited by the way you talk. although he loves talking to his friends through sign, Wally finds conversations with you incredibly stimulating. you're interesting, and funny, and know just what to sign to make him break out into peals of his odd, halting laughter. indeed, Wally talks much faster via sign than he does through verbal speech. he often gets swept up in the act of signing; sometimes, you'll need to grab hold of his hands to get him to slow down, as he signs too fast in his excitement! ⭐ Wally is fascinated by the visuals of you signing. as we know, Wally eats with his eyes, but the things he visually devours are not limited to food. early into your friendship, Wally shyly requests that you ramble to him in sign so he can become more accustomed to your unique movements and sign-related dialect. you're happy to do so, but after a few minutes of talking to Wally, you realise his eyes have grown large: akin to an owl's eyes, absorbing all light like a black hole. you gesture to Wally to snap him out of his trance, and it takes a few blinks for his pupils to return to their normal size. he giggles, and apologises, signing: "Sorry! You speak beautifully. I was hungry." for the rest of the day, you press Wally to elaborate on what he means, but he just gives you a coy look and a shake of his head. awww i loved writing this one, thanks so much @xo-destiny!! we need more sign language headcanons in the world, and discussion of disability and non-voiced ways of communication too. hope you like this 🥰💖

#wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home #welcome home arg #starleskawrites #starleskasks #wally darling x you

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babyleostuff · 1 year ago

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hello! i have been following you for a while but im shy about sending reqs hehe. i wonder if you can make ot13 reactions on how they will act if they got into a fight with their partner while they're away? like how do they deal with it and what they'll feel about it? I'm sorry if it's weird! thank you so much!

no worries, i’m more than happy to write any requests you guys send me! hope you enjoy this one and if you have any more requests don’t be shy and ask <3

when seventeen gets into a fight with their partner while they're away | ot13

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

𓆩♡𓆪 he’s a leo sun (and as a leo myself), i know that he’d be too prideful to call you and apologise first, no matter if it was a big or a small fight

𓆩♡𓆪 but then he’d realise how much he misses you

𓆩♡𓆪 it’s not like he can text you or call you and act like nothing happened

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d be heartbroken for the next few days

𓆩♡𓆪 because not only are you hundreds of kilometres apart, but now he also knows that you are angry with him

𓆩♡𓆪 one night he’d go through your shared photos and that would be his breaking point

his gallery <3

YOON JEONGHAN

𓆩♡𓆪 he knew that you were angry with him when you didn’t pick up his calls

𓆩♡𓆪 and he would keep on calling you until you answered him

𓆩♡𓆪 even if it meant that he had to sit through the whole night with his phone in his hand

𓆩♡𓆪 you had no idea how much he relied on your late night conversations

𓆩♡𓆪 when he could see your face and find some peace among the crazy schedules

𓆩♡𓆪 so he would do everything he could for you to pick up and talk things out

HONG JOSHUA

𓆩♡𓆪 first of all, the chance of you getting into a fight while he is away is like 0.01%

𓆩♡𓆪 the second he hears your annoyed voice, he tries to calm you down and asks you to take a deep breath

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d want you to explain why you’re mad (and that’s when you’d probably realise how silly it was to get mad in the first place)

𓆩♡𓆪 even if was a more of a serious fight, he’d want to talk it out immediately

𓆩♡𓆪 because he wouldn’t be able to go about his day, knowing that you were sad and angry

𓆩♡𓆪 there is no way that Joshua would let the fight drag on for days or he’d go crazy

WEN JUNHUI

𓆩♡𓆪 he could feel his heart breaking, when he saw that you left him on read

𓆩♡𓆪 i don’t think he’d try to call or text you immediately

𓆩♡𓆪 because what if you really don’t want to hear from him now? What if you don’t want to hear from him ever again?

𓆩♡𓆪 usually he wouldn’t be that dramatic about a fight

𓆩♡𓆪 it’s just the knowledge that you are so far away from each other messes with his head

𓆩♡𓆪 but the second he sees your name pop up on his phone screen, he tells you how sorry he is and how much he misses you

KWON SOONYOUNG

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d be so frustrated

𓆩♡𓆪 why did he allow for the situation to escalate so badly, that you didn’t even want pick up his calls?

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d try to go about his day like any other, but the only thing he’d be able to think about was your fight

𓆩♡𓆪 and it would only get worse, to the point where the boys would have to text to you and tell you to call him

𓆩♡𓆪 he was just afraid that if he’d keep on calling and texting you, you’d only get angrier with him

JEON WONWOO

𓆩♡𓆪 he had always been convinced that being away from you wasn’t that hard on him

𓆩♡𓆪 but when you got into your first fight while he was on tour, well, that was hell for him

𓆩♡𓆪 he had never realised how much he actually misses you

𓆩♡𓆪 your calls, your random texts, your facetime dates

𓆩♡𓆪 you holding his hand, your kisses and your laugh

𓆩♡𓆪 he had taken so many pretty pictures that he knew you would love to see, but he couldn’t even send you those

his gallery <3

LEE JIHOON

𓆩♡𓆪 he would either try to talk things out immediately like Joshua, or give you some time to cool off

𓆩♡𓆪 he knew that getting into a fight while being apart was stupid, because not only are you a couple of countries away from each other, but now angry as well

𓆩♡𓆪 but after those couple of days if you didn’t pick up his calls or respond to his messages, he’d become the biggest pain in your ass

𓆩♡𓆪 because he wouldn’t stop calling and spamming you

𓆩♡𓆪 so you wouldn't have any other option but to talk to him :))

LEE SEOKMIN

𓆩♡𓆪 don’t to this to me

𓆩♡𓆪 if you ever had a fight when he was away, he’d be the saddest and the most heartbroken version of himself

𓆩♡𓆪 he wouldn’t smile, and if any of the boys would try to make him laugh it would be so forced

𓆩♡𓆪 neither of you took the fights between you very well, and now being apart, there was nothing he could to do comfort you

𓆩♡𓆪 which only broke his heart even more

𓆩♡𓆪 the fight wouldn’t last very long though, because after a couple of days you’d call each other in tears saying how much you miss each other

KIM MINGYU

𓆩♡𓆪 now, this man

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d either be spamming your messages with apologies, or be the biggest stubborn baby known to mankind

𓆩♡𓆪 because if he believes that you are in the wrong, there is no way he’s going to apologise first

𓆩♡𓆪 he probably vents to Wonwoo at some point

𓆩♡𓆪 and when the older makes him realise that he is in the wrong, everything changes

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d be calling and texting you 24/7, ready to do anything in order to make it up to you

𓆩♡𓆪 because there is nothing more he loves in this world than you, and the knowledge that he made you sad and upset is unbearable for him

XU MINGHAO

𓆩♡𓆪 similarly to Seungcheol, I think Minghao would be a bit too prideful to apologise first

𓆩♡𓆪 but he would be a lot quicker to realise how stupid it was to ignore you and to start this fight in the first place

𓆩♡𓆪 every time he’d see something that reminded him of you, he’d start to miss you even more

𓆩♡𓆪 if you weren’t picking up his calls he would spam you with random messages

𓆩♡𓆪 and he wouldn’t care if you didn’t respond to him

𓆩♡𓆪 because he knew that you missed him as well and that at some point you’d text him back

your messages <3

BOO SEUNGKWAN

𓆩♡𓆪 another sad baby that would just try to survive the day

𓆩♡𓆪 the fight would drain him out of all his usual energy, to the point where he wouldn’t even want to bicker with the boys

𓆩♡𓆪 he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else than the thought that you’re all alone at home, sad and upset because of him

𓆩♡𓆪 he wouldn’t call you at first, because he’d be afraid he’d upset you even more

𓆩♡𓆪 but he would still send you your usual good morning and goodnight messages

CHWE VERNON

𓆩♡𓆪 i think he’d be very mature about the situation

𓆩♡𓆪 he knew that he needed to apologise as soon as possible, in order to put this fight to an end

𓆩♡𓆪 if you didn’t want to talk to him, he’d give you some space

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d miss you so much though

𓆩♡𓆪 especially the random texts and memes you’d send each other throughout the day

𓆩♡𓆪 and he’d still send them, because he knew that no matter what, they would still put a smile on your face

LEE CHAN

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d try to go about his life as if nothing big happened

𓆩♡𓆪 because there are always fights in relationships and people are fine, right?

𓆩♡𓆪 wrong

𓆩♡𓆪 he spends all of his free time looking through your photos and messages

𓆩♡𓆪 which doesn’t help at all, it only makes him miss you more

𓆩♡𓆪 he’d do everything to be back home with you, cuddling on the sofa and watching your favourite movie

𓆩♡𓆪 when your calling ID finally popped up on his phone, a couple of tears run down his cheeks, as he picked up his phone to tell you how sorry he was

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a-writer-on-elm-street · 2 years ago

Note

Can I please ask for a smut Damon request using this picture. Imagine distracting Damon whilst he’s concentrating on a phone call to ric and he punishes you for being a naughty girl for interrupting his call and pins you to the bed . Sorry I’m just a very naughty minded girl when it comes to Damon 😜

Apologise

a/n: thank you so much for the request i loved writing this!! hope you enjoy! <3 (also, i'm so sorry it took so long)

pairing: damon x fem!reader

warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected sex

word count: 644

You chuckle against Damon's skin, your lips dragging along his stomach as he squirms beneath you, his phone pressed to his ear.

You can hear Alaric's muffled voice coming through the speaker as you hook your fingers under the waistband of Damon's jeans, prompting him to curse at you under his breath.

But he doesn't make a move to stop you, only attempting to stifle a groan as he keeps his phone to his ear.

And you find yourself stifling a laugh when you hear Alaric ask if everything's okay.

"Yeah, Ric," Damon says, his voice strained as he squirms beneath you. "Everything's great. Nothing wrong here."

You find it all the more amusing by how hard he's trying to cover, despite the fact that he's practically groaning into the phone, one of his hands absentmindedly playing with your hair.

Once you manage to pull his pants off along with his boxers, you waste no time in wrapping your hand around his length, eliciting a startled sigh from him, his hips jerking into you from the contact.

"Are you sure you're okay?" You hear Ric ask him, and it makes you chuckle.

Damon glares at you as he speaks.

"Yeah, Ric, everything's fine." He assures him again, readjusting himself slightly beneath you. "But you know what, I uh─I might have to call you back."

Before you're even able to wrap your lips around him, he's threading a hand into your hair, pulling you up so that you're face to face with him now.

"Were you not aware that I was on a call?" He asks, pressing his mouth into a line as he looks at you.

"I was aware."

"Hm." He hums, twirling a finger through your hair. "What am I gonna do with you?"

Before you have a chance to offer him any suggestions, he's flipping you onto your back, his fingers snaking around your throat as he hovers over you.

"As much as I loved your hand around my dick." He smirks, his free hand trailing down your body. "You really shouldn't interrupt my calls like that."

"What're you gonna do about it?"

He doesn't offer you an answer, and instead you feel his fingers slide beneath the waistband of your jeans.

"Now, you've been a bad bad girl," he tuts, pressing a finger against you through the fabric of your panties. "And bad girls get punished."

You laugh. "And how is this a punishment?"

"Oh, you'll see." He smirks, sliding his hand inside your panties, his fingers swirling around your clit.

You sigh, throwing your head back into the pillows when he pushes a finger inside of you.

Except, he doesn't move, instead choosing to remain painfully still, a wicked smirk on his face as he looks down at you.

"Damon," you whine, looking down to where his hand had disappeared in your jeans. "Come on."

"What? I'm not doing anything."

"Exactly, you're not doing anything."

"What would you like me to do?" He asks, a knowing grin on his face as he moves his hand ever so slightly against you. "You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes," you sigh, nodding your head at him.

"Apologise."

"What?"

He smirks. "You interrupted my call. Apologise."

You continue to resist, shifting uncomfortably beneath him, but he won't let up.

"If you apologise," he says, slipping his hand out of your jeans now. "Then I'll give you what you want."

"Okay, I'm sorry," you finally say, giving in.

"That's right."

And with that, he's flipping you over onto your front, his hands already tugging your jeans off. And within seconds, he's inside you, already moving at a brutal pace as he holds you up, rough fingers digging into your ass.

"God," you moan, your mouth twisting into a smile as he fucks you. "I'm so so sorry. So sorry."

"And I forgive you."

[Main Masterlist]

#damon salvatore #damon salvatore smut #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore oneshot #damon salvatore imagine #damon salvatore fanfic #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries smut #the vampire diaries oneshot #the vampire diaries fanfiction #tvd #tvd smut #tvd fanfic #tvd fanfiction

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enchanteleclerc · 1 year ago

Text

strawberries and cream 🂱 cs55

genre: 18+, literally pwp, fem!reader who’s the sister of carlos’ best friend?? LMAO

word count: 2.5k

You seem to enjoy the company of your brother’s best friend. Especially right now, over some breakfast of pancakes, thinking you may never look at strawberries and cream the same.

a/n … idk how my last post did pretty well but thank u all for the support !! still learning how to write smut (and write in general bc i never write in uni 💀) this was heavily inspired by that one serena and nate scene i hope u guys know which one i’m talking ab :))

warnings … penetrative sex, semi public sex, dirty talk (degradation and praise), unprotected sex, food, rough ish sex?

You don’t remember when it started. The butterflies, the stolen glances across a room. Ever since you could remember, Carlos was always around. But he wasn’t here for you; you had to remind yourself. Your brother’s best friend. And yet, neither of you could deny the tension between you both. The way your fingers brushed when you handed him your plate, offering to wash it for you after dinner, caused you to subconsciously hold your breath. ”Need some help?” Sauntering into the kitchen where Carlos was washing the dishes. You don’t miss how his lips turned into a smile upon seeing you. Picking up the dishes he just washed, you began drying them beside him, taking quick looks at him from the side of your eye but making sure he doesn’t see. Flipping a plate over, you accidentally splash him with water. Your hands immediately went to your mouth to apologise, but you couldn’t help the giggles pouring from you. “Yeah? You think that’s funny?” He wrapped his arm around your waist to hold you still while turning the tap towards you, soaking the white oversized shirt you wore. Pleading for mercy, to which he loosened his grip, you retaliated by turning the tap onto him. Stepping through the puddle of water you both caused, he turned off the tap. ”Truce?” He sticks out his pinky for you to shake, which you take happily. Pinkies interlocked, you look up at him, still giggling, but the giggles dissipate when you look into his big brown eyes. His eyes held yours for a moment before travelling down your body to the white shirt that had gone translucent and stuck to your body, leaving almost nothing to imagination apart from your bra and panties. Carlos’ clothes were no better. His grey shirt had darkened and stuck to his torso, revealing the lines and curves of his toned stomach. ”What the fuck?” Your brother’s voice echoed between Carlos and you as if a strike of lightning. You both jumped away from each other but still connected through your pinkies. As if there was an invisible piece of string connecting you both. Clearing your throat and crossing your arms over your chest to hide yourself, you announce that you were heading up for bed, unwilling to let go of Carlos’ hand. You wonder how you could possibly fall asleep knowing that Carlos would be in the room beside yours. The answer to that question was reluctantly. However, you eventually fell asleep to Carlos’ light snores through the thin walls of the house. And the moment the snoring ceased, so did the little sleep you received. Early in the morning, you heard a door open. Well aware of your family’s ability to sleep into the late hours of the morning, you knew whose door that was. You were suddenly wide awake and wanting to run out your door to see him. Needing to regain some dignity after letting him see you basically half-naked yesterday, you decided against leaving your room immediately. After what you believed was enough time, you found yourself walking downstairs into the kitchen, where a figure was rummaging through the fridge. Despite only being able to see his back, you knew who it was, of course. That was a back you caught your eyes lingering on many times. The way his muscles flexed through the thin shirt had you in a trance. “You’re up early.” He returned the milk carton to the fridge before turning around to see you. You simply hummed back because you couldn’t form coherent thoughts when Carlos looked like this. Sleepy eyes looking back at you from the opposite end of the island, slightly obstructed by his hair that was messy and looked somewhat damp from a shower, you assumed. His voice, raspy from the morning, had your knees buckling. You sit on the island's counter to avoid the embarrassment of passing out simply because he spoke. ”Wow. He cooks and cleans. Is there anything you can’t do, Mr Sainz?” Your eyes flitted from the stack of freshly cooked pancakes to Carlos. His eyes unmistakably darkened at your use of “Mr Sainz”, but his head still shook with a low chuckle, placing his hand on your bare thigh. Picking a strawberry out of the bowl of toppings, you lean towards Carlos. He opens his mouth instinctively to accept the sweet fruit out of your hand, keeping his eyes focused on you and the way you bit your lip when the juice of the strawberry leaked from his lips. His eye contact broke only when your hand reached up to wipe the juice dripping down his chin with your thumb, only to place the thumb in your own mouth to suck off the juice. His eyes connect with yours again, and your close proximity is not lost on either of you. Your hand rests on his flushed cheek, the light stubble scratching your hand as his chest rises and falls. Carlos hums before wrapping his hands around your thighs to pull you towards the edge of the counter and moving in between your legs. Your faces were so close you could feel his warm breath from his slightly parted lips. He looked so pretty, like a prince straight out of Disney that you would have obsessed over when you were younger. You could’ve sworn you saw Carlos’ resolve crumble around you as his hands moved from your thighs to your head to catch your lips in a suffocating kiss. Years of sexual tension between you and Carlos finally being resolved had your head spinning in a whirlwind of lips, wandering hands and the taste of strawberries. The sudden action caused a squeal to leave your lips as your body connected with his, warm and hard. The feeling of his body in between your legs with your oversized shirt riding up and his clothed cock hardening for you from every minuscule movement you made, simply to find more friction and provoke him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, one arm reaching for his back, feeling the tensing muscles through his thin shirt, the other tugging slightly at the hair on the back of his neck, eliciting a silent moan from his mouth. His lips move from yours to your neck, letting your head fall back, and your legs wrap around his torso. Your fingers find the hem of his shirt, tugging slightly before he tugs it over his head, revealing his perfectly toned body, lightly speckled with hair. His lips are on yours again before his hands rest on your hips, inviting you to move them against him. You gasped at the feeling of him right where you needed him, and he used your gasp to delve deeper into your mouth. His fingers grip your hips and pull your shirt up for a better view. The feeling of the cold air and his hands on your overheating body stimulate you beyond belief. You pulled away from the kiss to breathe and look down at the way you slot in perfectly with him. Carlos tilts your head to look at him and lets his thumb rub your swollen and bitten lips. Your lips attach to the skin of his chest, placing light kisses moving down his stomach. “Fuck. Need to feel your lips around me.” he groaned deeply before you pushed yourself off the counter. You find yourself on your knees for him pulling down his grey sweatpants and boxers to reveal his cock spring up. It was intimidating how big he was. If you weren’t so needy, you would’ve made a cliche comment about his size, but there was no need; Carlos already knew. He could tell by your face and subsequently chuckled. Looking up at him through half-lidded eyes while you stroke it, you observe the way his head falls back for a moment from the pleasure before landing back on you, focusing intently on what you’re doing as if he would rather die than miss this. His eyes bore into your own, but not with the chocolate brown colour you know so well. A darker tint of brown has invaded, causing your thighs to clench together. You place the head of his cock in your mouth. The warm feel of it causes an involuntary moan in you that is reciprocated by Carlos. His hand wrapped around your hair, guiding you along his cock and allowing you to take it in full. Caressing it with your tongue, Carlos’ grip on your hair tightened as the muscles in his legs clenched. Carlos has spent so long seeing you flaunt in short skirts and cropped tops around your house. Spent so long watching your long legs as you walked or when you crossed your legs as you sat. Carlos remembers the day he started feeling like this towards you. It was a hot summer day, and he volunteered to drive you and your brother to get ice cream. Seeing the way you lapped up the ice cream as it dripped down your hand and the moan you let out when the cold liquid touched your tongue haunted Carlos’ dreams for weeks. Dreams that resulted in him having to take a long, cold shower. On the drive home from the ice cream parlour, Carlos was silent and painfully hard in his pants as he avoided looking at you in the rearview mirror unless they wanted to completely drive off the road. Carlos couldn’t believe this wasn’t one of his many dreams. You were real and kneeling before him, letting him fuck your pretty little throat. Your cheeks hollowed and wrapped around him tightly before pulling it out and letting your tongue swirl around the tip, catching all the pre cum. Carlos’ small groans start speeding up, as does your mouth on his cock, but he pulls you away using your hair. ”Need to be inside you.” His hands find their way around your thighs again to lift you up and place you back onto the edge of the counter, ripping your panties off and discarding them somewhere in the kitchen. Dipping his finger in the bowl of whipped cream left for forgotten pancakes, he draws a line on the inside of your thigh, stopping before the apex and letting you suck the whipped cream off his finger. Your back connected with the cool surface of the kitchen island, unable to take this amount of pleasure as Carlos dropped his head between your thighs and began lapping up the whipped cream. The frustrated groan you released when Carlos’ tongue stopped before he reached your heat was disrupted when you felt him drag the tip of his cock up and down your needy folds with ease from how slick you were. Your hips rutted towards his, needing him inside you or at least some friction. Finally, he began pushing, feeding his cock into you. Your eyes clenched closed at the overwhelming pressure you felt. No other boy had stretched you out like this, but none of them were Carlos Sainz. The shared moan that left both your mouths once he bottomed out inside you was intoxicating. You shiver momentarily at the loss when he pulls out of you, but all was forgotten as he slams back into you again He was everywhere— around you, inside you. So overwhelmingly good you understood why you waited so long for this. ”Faster, please” Carlos’ grip on your hips tightened, hearing you begging for him, happily speeding up his pace, hearing your little whimpers from every movement. His hand reaches up to grab your tits, kneading and flicking your nipple to perfection. Carlos had to restrain himself from cumming when he saw how sensitive your nipples were and how you responded to him. ”Fuck you’re perfect. This pretty cunt— so wet. all this for me?” His hand left your tits to attack your clit, rubbing in small circles that had you throwing your head back in pleasure. “Answer me.” He ceased his movements on your clit and began thrusting agonisingly slow. You tried moving your hips to find some friction, but his hands pressed your hips into the counter to stop you from moving. ”Fuck Carlos. It’s all for you. It’s always been you.” Carlos sped up once more. Faster than before. Faster than you thought was humanly possible. The sound of an alarm clock upstairs caught you off guard, the thought of someone— let alone your brother finding you like this. Fucking his best friend. And yet, the tightening feeling in your core didn’t disappear but got stronger. ”Please, can I cum?” He slows down, staving off your orgasm. Unable to move your own hips, Carlos set the pace, and apparently, Carlos did not care that someone could walk downstairs at any moment. He wanted to relish in this moment. The feeling of you beneath him and begging for release. He wanted this image to be ingrained into his memory for the rest of his life. “Cum for me, cariño.” Your legs shaking and releasing a moan that was much too loud for comfort, your orgasm hit you at full force. His hand slammed over your mouth to prevent anyone from hearing, although Carlos would love for the whole neighbourhood to hear you scream his name. His thrusts didn’t cease through your orgasm. Instead, they sped up. Twitching inside of you, he asks where you want it. ”Inside me, please. Fill me up.” Mumbling behind Carlos’ hand that was still firmly over your mouth and was now covered in your spit. Without warning, you felt it. Like a warm flood within you, pushed around by Carlos’ slow thrusts. His cum trickled down your thigh when he pulled out, and you both stood there in silence, listening to each other’s heavy breathing. Footsteps walking down the stairs sprung you both into action, however. Wide eyed for a moment before frantically adjusting your shirt back on and Carlos pulling up his sweatpants with no time for his shirt. ”Morning.” Your brother rubbed his eyes as you and Carlos stood behind the island. No panties on you. No shirt on Carlos. Both were discarded somewhere in the kitchen and soon to be found by your brother. “What are you guys doing? Where’s your shirt, mate?” Your brother’s eyes went between Carlos and you as you pretended to just notice that Carlos had no shirt on. ”Oh, pancakes. You want some?” Your brother offering you as if he was the one that made it. You shook your head before seeing the way your brother loaded his pancakes up with strawberries and whipped cream. You had to bite your lip to hold in a laugh as Carlos’ cheeks flushed. Walking behind your brother, you find your panties and Carlos’ shirt, sending him a wink before walking back upstairs with the clothing items in hand. Leaving Carlos to deal with your brother and the pancakes that were now cold.

#f1 #carlos sainz #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz x reader #f1 x reader

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boba-beom · 9 months ago

Text

⋆⭒˚.⋆ late nights, city lights | CHOI YEONJUN

⟢ neighbour!yeonjun x gn!reader

⟢ drabble; comfort, fluff

⟢ after a long day of unpacking, you thank your neighbour for suggesting you take a break while he introduces you to the city you're about to call home.

⟢ wc: 999

⟢ warnings: reader already has a lil crush, a little collision, yeonjun perhaps takes an interest in reader; interpret that as you will :>

⟢ a\n: requested by @blackhairedjjun <3 added details! 'reader just moved to the city on their own & is nervous and excited at the same time about starting their life over there, yeonjun as the cute next-door neighbor at their apartment who the reader hits it off with' I was so excited to write this because I already had some thoughts floating in my head from the prompt :> I had fun writing this one, I hope you like it!

the last cardboard box was finally emptied, only setting aside the contents of it to organise later on, before flattening out the box and shoving it on the pile by the front door. you managed to wake up incredibly early to unpack everything, so all you had left to do was organise things in the next few days before being able to settle in fully.

moving out was hard. but you finally moved out and it was something you had been wanting to do for the longest time now. you had your new job to thank as well as your friends who suggested you take this new chapter in life, hoping to start afresh.

you let out a tired sigh looking at all the flattened boxes you're still yet to dispose of, but just thinking about the trips you'll have to make coming up and down the apartment complex seemed to burden you already. but you're gonna have to get moving since it's already late in the night.

you shove as much flattened boxes into one that's still open, opening your door and picking up the box only to drop it after colliding with what seems to be one of your neighbours. great. you scold yourself before checking on your neighbour to apologise.

"oh gosh I'm so ... sorry." your voice trails quietly when you see a guy of a tall and lean build, long hair and taking off his headphones to hang from his neck before scurrying to help with the cardboard that fell out.

he chuckles, and you nervously laugh with him.

"long day?" he asks and you simply nod, gathering the boxes and holding onto them instead of giving them back to you. he saw the rest of the boxes by your door, and ultimately you pick up on his intentions. "I'll help you with these."

"oh this is embarrassing, the first time I see a neighbour and you're already doing something for me." you worry but you're still thankful all the while.

"don't worry, honestly, it's not a problem. it's about time I met the new neighbour." he says simply, letting out a pretty smile that's just as contagious as his laugh. "I'm yeonjun by the way, my flat's just on your right."

you give him your name and mentally take note of his flat number to make sure you greet him whenever you bump into each other. "again, sorry for stumbling into you, I haven't left the apartment since I got here."

he notices your timid smile and a thought crosses his mind.

"how about you grab a jacket and after we throw these out I'll show you around the city nearby." he suggests, raising his brows in anticipation of your answer.

of course, it doesn't take much convincing since you hadn't had time to explore yet.

"wait, really?" you watch him nod in your direction with full enthusiasm and it just makes it easier for you to feel at ease.

surprisingly, you realised you'd probably knock on his door one way or another to ask where to throw out the boxes, forgetting where to throw them out, but this was a lot easier and less daunting than having to knock on a door late into the night.

yeonjun was truly one of the most down to earth people you've ever met in a long time. his calm nature of making you feel welcome to the city, him walking on the pavement closest to the road while you both walk and converse down the quiet streets of the city.

the lights were bright as ever, thinking that it'd be busy at this time of night until yeonjun told you about which days are usually roaring at night and which ones are a little quieter.

surprisingly, your new neighbour took you to one of the 24/7 convenient stores nearby for some ice-cream. the nights were getting warmer and the jacket was just a precaution. it was becoming hoodie season and it had you observing yeonjun's outfit; an oversized graphic hoodie with wide leg denim shorts that looked like a long skirt. his style was appealing for what counts as 'casual' clothing. you even took a candid picture of him while he was looking up where else he should take you at this time of night.

then within an hour of wandering around, yeonjun took you back to the apartment complex and onto the rooftop where you were able to see the skyscrapers and occasional lights from vehicles beelining their way around the city.

"so, what do you think so far?" yeonjun's voice was a little hoarse, the both of you gazing over the pretty lights below.

your lips turn into a tight-lipped smile, pondering on your first few thoughts about your first night wandering around, even if it was spontaneous and only for an hour.

"I could get used to this." you lean your elbows on the ledge, smiling to yourself.

you were proud of yourself for finally doing what you've been longing to do, even after some people doubted you before. it didn't stop you when you had the right support system to encourage you every step of the way. and now you have yeonjun too.

said male turns his head towards you, a gentle smile crawling on his lips while he scans the relief beaming on your face.

"I can always show you around again." he suggests, "like we can explore during the day. but I don't mind wandering around at night again."

you hum in agreement. there was something so soothing about being in his presence, but also comforting knowing that he was already so open to helping you settle into this new part of your life.

"thank you, yeonjun. I really appreciate this." you turn to look at him too, eyes locking a little longer than you have the past hour. you have a good feeling that this friendship will be a good one.

this is gonna be a good one.

#violet ᡣ𐭩 #blackhairedjjun ᡣ𐭩 #[ 🧸 ] — mutuals.#smiles' slumber party #yeonjun x gn reader #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun comfort #yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun drabbles #txt fluff #txt comfort #txt x gn reader #yeonjun x reader #txt x reader #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt drabbles

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sunaluv · 2 years ago

Note

hi love🩷!! can you write about a fem!reader who has a raspy voice and her voice just naturally cracks alll the time, so one day when her and e42 miles are in a argument and she starts yelling, her voice just starts cracking so much it’s almost inaudible and miles not being able to take it seriously? thank you!!!😁🙏🏾

miles was yet again late. it hurt, but you've grown to get used to it.

"miles." your voice came hoarse as you crossed your arms over your chest.

"[name]." he copied your posture and had the audacity to draw his face into a mocking pout.

"this is the third time this week," you threw your arms up in disbelief. "if you weren't gonna show up, you couldve at least told me!"

you couldn't look at him right now, his face was making you angry. facing your back to him, you started to make your way out of the room, but you could only get a few steps in before he's pulling you back into his chest, kissing your temple repeatedly.

"im sorry, princesa," his voice tried to soothe you, who was now thrashing in his hold.

"you cant dO-" ahem. "you can't keep doing this to me miles, i'm sICK-"

an escaped snicker left his mouth as you both froze. you in disbelief, and him in suprise at his mistake.

he cleared his throat. "my fault, run that by me again?"

"did you just laugh." your voice came, the clearest he had ever heard it.

"baby no-" his outstretched arm tried to confine you again, but you were out of reach. "i didn't mean to laugh i swear!"

you escaped his hold and ran into the living room, hiding under the throw blanket.

"let me apologise, mami."

the blanket was pulled down, stopping right beneath your chin. and you were...laughing?

"just becasue im laughing, doesn't mean you're allowed to." you spoke between snickers.

'is this fr?' he thought, releasing the smile he was trying to hide.

"my bad for laughing at you," he ploped down on the couch next to you. "it was a lil funny tho, you sounded like me going through puberty."

you slapped his arm. "thin ice, morales. thin ice."

#miles x reader #miles morales x reader #e42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #atsv x reader #e42 miles

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caxde · 8 months ago

Text

disposible heroes | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary Eddie is assumed to be dead, you belived it, until music found his way into your live again, and a promise he's still alive is evident (7.2k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn, idiots in love!!!, english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read!, canon-ish complaiant?

a/n: thank you to @sage-glowstick for all your help as I was writing this <33

“You know I’m here if you need me, right?” Robin’s voice felt as if it were coming from a thousand miles away, even if she was beside you, her fingers running through your hair, petting you softly.

“I know” Your voice came out croaky, heavy, raspy. Tears were still falling from your eyes, you felt them, the coldness of the salty water running down your reddened and hot cheek.

“Anything you need.” She repeated, wiping it away, her finger on the apple of your cheek a bit longer, trying to make you feel seen.

“It just doesn't feel real.” You whispered, not being able to actually say it fully out loud.

“I know.” She imitated your low tone, standing up from the bed as she looked out the window. “It’s a lovely day out, we could go for a walk.”

“In a bit, maybe.” You gave her a forced, half smile to her. She imitated it before nodding, standing up to finally leave the room, leaving the door ajar.

It was a good day out, sunny and without a cloud, the leaves on the tree outside your window moving slowly.

But he wasn’t there.

As far as you knew, his body still laid lifeless on the fractured darkened ground of the upside down.

And you hadn’t saved him.

Guilt consumed you.

It was worse, you had to lie to Wayne, you had to lie to the only person that knew him as much as you did, that cared for him as much as you did.

You buried an empty coffin a couple of weeks ago.

And all you had was an old shirt of his, and his guitar pick necklace you had once gifted him.

Your hands closed around it, one last tear falling down as you did so. I miss you, i’m sorry were the only thoughts running through your mind.

After a long time of just thinking, your eyes vacant and your thoughts going a bit too fast. As soon as Robin came to check on you once again, she knew where you were headed off to.

The mix he had made you was still in your car, playing his music as if he was next to you. If you concentrated enough, you could still hear him sing them, in his usual chaotic goofy voice and tone he always used to get you to laugh, though if he was being sirius or was in his own little world he actually had a beautiful voice, an angelical one if you were the one listening.

A weird combination of crying and laughter was now consuming you, as you finally parked your car in the same spot you had for the last few weeks.

It was a weird feeling, you became more yourself the closer you walked to his grave, the closer you came to seeing his name carved in stone, the fuller you felt, as if he was walking beside you.

The wind rustled in the leaves, as birds stopped singing, the sun still shining, your skin soaking it in, your puffy eyes squinting harder because of it.

It was a very scenic moment, you thought as you sat down in front of the carved stone.

“Hey Moon.” You whispered with a heavy heart. The stinging coming back to the back of your head as you looked at the faded graffiti you had cleaned yesterday. “I brought you a bit of music, I thought you might like it.” You fumbled through your bag, trying to find the little portable cassette player you had saved up for, that he had drawn in the back of with one of his markers. EM was here could still be seen in a faint white ink. “I finally got you the Metallica cassette you wanted.” You half smiled, trying not to break down again.

The first guitar notes from the song battery filled the air, you let your body hit the ground right as the bass started, your feet stomping at the melody.

“You’d love to play the guitar solo of this one.” You teased him, mumbling to the sky, your eyes closed, your body relaxing a bit more.

The little portable player was starting to make that funny noise it had been making for the last couple of days, that dirty interference that made you angry every time, interrupting your time, it only infuriated you more now that you were here, trying to be close to him once more. Your arm reached to it, your eyes yet unopened, spanking it a bit, hopeful that it would go away.

It didn’t.

It started going in and out of focus, as if something was tampering with it, or water had crawled in, making the switch to the next song sound as if it was coming from deep underwater, as if a wave had just engulfed the speaker.

“Fuck’s sake.” You complained through gritted teeth, grabbing it and holding it up, wiggling it a bit. As you did, the muffled sound went away, and the thing that should not be started playing.

You lowered the volume, and let the speaker sit next to your ear, letting it sing only for you.

It didn’t give you any trouble for a while, until it started acting up again. This time, the volume went up and down. At first you thought it was random, until you started paying attention. It seemed like a message, and grief invaded you enough to make you believe impossible things.

Your shaking hands grabbed it, pulling it a top of your lap, looking back at where his name was carved before whispering “Don’t fuck with me” as you played the backwards button. Letting the song start from the beginning once again. “I swear to god Eddie if you’re fucking with me I’ll kill you again.” You spat as you mumbled angrily at the air, hoping to be right.

To your astonished surprise, it seemed to work.

The volume went up, as if it was a code, as if he was screaming. If you were honest, you could feel him screaming and yelling the lyrics in that chaotic voice you learned to love and miss.

The very first word of the song spiked up messenger, it felt obvious enough, though it could just be a dumb coincidence. lurking beneath the sea made the volume go up, lowering immediately after it. You kept listening, writing it on the sketch pad you always carried in your bag.

Once the song ended, the previous blank paper had sparesed lyrics over it.

It read a confusing mess that you had to bring to Dustin as soon as possible. You recited it over and over again while you were speeding on the car.

The motor of your car was louder with every gear shift you made, the little orange arrow in your speedometer kept rising, but you payed it no mind. In a similar manner, you didn’t care if your car skidded anytime you made a left turn, the only thing in your mind where the little words you had heard louder than the others.

You didn’t care if your car blocked his driveway, or if the keys were still in the ignition. The bag on your left shoulder felt havier now that it was guarding the little instrument that felt magic. You hands where still shaking and you could stop fidgeting with his necklace, moving it one swipe left and two right as you made your way to Dustin’s front door, not sure what to say, not sure what to do. You were now anxiously looking down at your feet, and the way they moved through the cobblestone, the bumps that they left on your feet.

You gathered enough courage to bang on his door.

But he was taking a bit too long.

Bang

He still hadn’t come down stairs.

Bang Bang Bang Bang

“Jesus what?” He finally opened the door, the usual annoyed look on his face disappearing once he the way your lips were pressed together.

“Upstairs, now. Code red.”

“Can you read it again?” Dustin asked, a pen in his own hand.

“Messenger. Lurking beneath the sea. Forbidden site. Shadows. Underground. Fallen city, living death.” You looked at him, sharing a deep breath. “Then it repeats, Lurking beneath the sea, and ends with not dead”

Dustin stood up, pacing around his room while his hands fidgeted with the pen he had.

“And you’re sure it worked normally before you arrived at the grave?” He inquired, his words pausing between them as he usually did when he was trying to figure out something.

“Look I know it sounds stupid, but… I… It can’t be a coincidence.” He acknowledged just how hopeful and defeated you were, and he gifted you a smile.

“I wanna believe it too, I just, can I hear it now?” You nodded, while you took the little player out of the bag and played the song again. It sounded crystal clear, no interference, no change in volume. “And it changed volume once you were…”

“Yeah, I told you.”

“We should go there, I’ll ask the others to join us there.” He grabbed the talkie while he handed you the phone, letting you call into family video, the number already dialed up.

“Family Video this is Steve how may I help you today?” He sounded as bored as he always was, you could tell he was playing with the telephone chord.

“Steve, can you take your break now?” Your voice was quieter than usual, and that pulled him in, you heard how his elbows hit the table, and the receiver was caught between his cheek and his shoulder.

“Hey honey, everything okay?” His tone was sharper now, you felt the way he was measuring his words, he had become rather used to spreading kindness and handling you with care ever since you had come back, you had no time for that kind of nonsense right now.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m asking you to skip work in the middle of the day.” Your words were coming out sharper and colder than you intended for them to. Irony stinging like a dagger.

“A simple no would also work, y’know.” He answered, a bit hurt, but mostly worried. He knew the number was coming from Dustin’s house, and the only reason you had to go over his house was for one he didn’t dare to think about.

Mostly because the last time you had barged in with Dustin into Family Video he ended diving into cold water, and with a few scars to remember those days by.

“Can you take your break or not? We kinnda need both of you.” You were impatient now, you were speaking faster, snappier, quicker.

“What the hell is going on?” You could physically see him holding the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed while he loudly breathed out into the receiver.

“Steve! Please?” You were begging now, the frustration of wanting to let him know everything all at once, while trying to be careful to not say too much, the fear that someone might listen to you, the impotence of not being able to do enough, it was all enough to create tears that wouldn’t fall.

“Breathe out.” He reminded you. He didn’t know what was going on, or why you seemed to be so aggravated, but he could tell that it was important enough, a sense of urgency clear in your voice. He took a second, looking at Robin while his eyebrows raised she called the ‘the decision look’ and she knew better than to oppose it. “Is this a code red?” He finally asked, wanting and needing you to say no, his head falling deeper once he heard your muffled yes. “Where are we meeting?”

“Graveyard.” You answer quickly, the iron taste in the inside of your mouth becomes more prominent now that you are speaking again. “Pick Nance up.” You told him before hanging up.

You gave a quick glance over your shoulder to check on Dustin. His words were fast paced, he started the second one while the first was still finishing in his mouth, he had no time to lose, which in a weird way, was reassuring for you. Someone cared as deeply as you did, it made you feel not that alone, seen in a way.

You found your way downstairs, your feet feeling heavier and your chest tightening, a fast thought entered your mind, as it grew bigger so did the worry that accompanied it. What do we do if he is alive?

If Eddie really is alive, and he has been there, all by himself for the last weeks he must be pissed off. Not only that, as far as you remembered he was incredibly injured, so he could be right at death's door, a slip away from being actually gone. And if that was really the case, and he was bloodied, starving and a whisper away from death, you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t at least just try, you had to try.

But then again, that panic was shared.

Dustin did not talk while you drove. He didn’t complain while you smoked one of his cigarettes that he had left on your glove compartment, he limited himself to stay still, biting his thumb as a response to the nervousness that was now deep inside his body.

You parked where you had a mere hour ago, and the birds sang until you found your way next to his gravestone. You looked at Dustin, needing reassurance, he just nodded. Weirdly enough, you were both in a lost for words.

You sat in silence, looking at his name with clear sandness in both of your faces, you hid a whimper, culpability making its way into your body.

“I feel insane.” You confessed as you buried your face into the palm of your hands. Needing just a second to process it all.

“You’re not the only one.” Dustin added, looking back as soon as he heard a familiar car pull into the secluded place you both were, he gave you a soft pad on your shoulder, his head nodding to it so you’d look.

Steve emerged from the burgundy car, closely followed by Robin, Nancy and Jonathan.

Robin’s eyebrows were raised in concern as she ran to where you were, she wasn’t a fiscal touch person, but lately she had been giving you hugs every chance she had, and this time it was no different. It felt familiar, a sense of reassurance you desperately needed.

“What’s going on?” She whispered into your ear, pulling away slowly, looking deep into your eyes. You waited for the other three to make their way up hill, Nancy’s knuckles were white with how much strength she was holding Jonathan’s hand.

“He’s alive.” Is all you could bring yourself to say, before breaking down.

You weren’t even sure why you were crying this time, maybe it just felt good to say it outloud, maybe it was just too much to manage, or maybe you just needed to relise your bottled up emotions. It didn’t matter.

Nancy’s eyes widened, as Jonathan looked at her, not really understanding why you’d say that. Meanwhile, Steve’s arms crossed in front of his chest, he was having a hard time following you.

“What are you talking about?” Steve’s voice was not only lower, his tone had never been as serious, not a trace or irony or sarcasm in them.

“Dustin?” You plead for help, you didn’t think you could manage to explain it all again. Your hands were busy fidgeting with the cassette player, tracing over the speaker, wishing that it would happen again.

“She uh… Well…” Dustin was having a hard time, the possibility that you might be right was a bit overpowering for him.

“I came over, and played him the new record.” You gestured to the empty cassette case with the white crosses on it, Robin picked it up and looked at it closely, smiling in that that’s sweet way that she does when she finds something charming. “And uh…”

“She says that the cassette player started going wild, the volume going up and down by itself, interference, water sound in it. But we played it again at my house and it sounds perfectly clear. And well… The words that were actually louder were like a call for help and if we look at this logically-” Steve cut the explanation that Dustin had started, a crease in the middle of his forehead.

“That’s insane. You’re seeing things where there are none.” He exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“Steve…” Robin pleaded calmly, her eyes asking for him to consider the situation.

“It’s not!” You screamed. You needed them to understand, weirder things had happened to all of you in the last couple of years, this was nothing new. “Will was able to communicate with you!” You looked at Jonathan now, trying to make him understand, trying to win him to your side of the argument.

“Yeah but… He actually… It was his voice.” Jonathan mumbled, trying really hard to believe what you were saying, trying to see your side of the story, but the look of desperation on your face was too close to Joyce’s, and that gave him a bad feeling in his stomach.

“He’s alive.” You repeated, looking back at the way his name was carved into the gray stone, how long it took you to be able to accept it, and how it hopefully would be destroyed, as if it never had happened. “And he’s down there, alone, injured and with no strength, do you really think he’s going to start chatting?” With every word you said your tone became higher and higher.

“Look, there is no way he’s alive…” Steve’s voice sounded defeated as he crouched down, closer to your eye level as you were still sitting down at the floor. “We all saw him down there, bloodied and… I get that you want him back, but you shouldn’t make it our problem.” his cheeks were red, as the vein in his left temple became bigger with every breath he took.

“Your problem?” That made you lose it, it was one thing to not believe you, it was an entirely different thing to call you crazy and accuse you of being delusional. “You were the last one out, if he is alive, it’s your fault.” It had been like poison, hearing you say such things. You knew far too well that you were hurting him, his lips were pressed against each other, his left hand holding on thigh to his arm.

“Guys…” Robin tried to calm you both down, exchanging looks between the both of you, knowing full well this could blow everything up. Knowing that pain can be spread around faster than any disease.

But before she could say anything else, her ears perked up, as she heard the way the wind was rustling through the trees, she was a bit too sensitive to these kinds of things, over vigilant after everything she had seen.

“That’s way out of line…” Steve whispered, with clear guilt creeping in through his voice. “You know that if I could trade it… You know I don’t…” He was truly at a loss for words, not being sure what he could say, an extremely defeated expression rested on his face, his eyes avoiding eye contact with yours, looking at the ground, and the way the grass moved thanks to the wind.

“Guys!” Robin screamed at all of you now, as she picked out a rusting coming deep and low from the little player you were still holding.

Silence broke through all of you, as you looked down and started hearing the beginning of a song you hadn’t hit play for, the red light that usually shined bright when it was on was absent from it.

“Did you–?” Dustin started to ask, you shook your head, as a hopeful smile invaded your lips.

You went quiet, looking down at it, a guitar solo started, before you heard the tape playing backwards until the last phrase of the song was found, volume creeping louder and louder reaching out again could be heard from it, you let out a chuckle, a nervous giggle that went around the group as everyone had now experienced what had happened to you.

“What song is that?” Nancy asked directly at you, her face still in clear shock, mouthing the first words since she got here.

“Welcome home” You mutter, with glee in your eyes. “He is here.” You tell her, knowing that she fully believes you, by the way fear was creeping into her body.

“That could just be a coincidence…” Steve was still cautious, not wanting to fully give in. If he did, that meant that you were right, and that he left him for dead, and he couldn’t handle the guilt that came with it.

“Eddie!” Dustin started screaming, directly into the little player that you would not let go of, repeating his name with urgency. “Buddy, are you really there?”

“It’s changing again.” Robin pointed out, as her fingers traced a pattern on your leg, reassuring you that this was actually happening.

It was exactly as it had happened a few moments ago, when you were by yourself, as if water had creeped inside, mumbled and far away it sounded as the song changed to another one, before becoming crystal clear to your ears. The heavy thumping of the guitars starting again, quieting down before abruptly going up once the lyrics Twenty-one, only son, but he served us well could be heard.

You were tearing up now, and you weren’t even capable of hiding it any longer.

But panic came quick once you heard the next highlighted set of words.

Finished here, greeting death, he’s yours to take away

“What’s this one called?” Jonathan asked this time, his head whipping fastly from Nancy to you.

“Disposable Heroes.”

You wasted no time.

Dustin held on tight to his car seat every time your foot pressed the accelerator, everytime you swerved the car you could feel him holding his breath just for him to release it in a nervous manner.

They were all gathered around Steve's kitchen table, arguing over themselves.

You weren’t all there, the only thing going over your head was him, and the promise of actually being able to hear his voice once again.

Your foot kept on tapping the ground, a repetitive pattern that you weren’t able to stop, your hand still playing with his necklace. The chatter of them talking was overwhelming you, they were wasting time and that was infuriating. They were arguing, and you were frozen in the spot. They kept talking and you remained quiet.

Nancy sat down next to you, she still hadn’t said anything either.

Her hand traveled to yours, a top of your thigh. She squeezes your hand, you knew it was her way of telling you i’m here, i’m sorry.

“They’re wasting time.” You finally whispered, your voice hoarse, a trace of sadness in it.

“I don’t think I can go back.” She said at the same time, a trace of guilt in hers.

“You shouldn’t.” You reassured her, not only with your calm voice, but with the same squeeze she gave to your hand, now on her’s. You didn’t have to tell her that you planned on going alone, she had already noticed.

“You can’t.” She finally looked at you, deep into your eyes. You noticed the way her eye twitched before shaking his head. “We barely made it out of there, there’s no way you’ll make it by yourself, and having to carry Eddie or…”

“His body?” She snorted a laugh, trying hard not to giggle, thought the nervous laughter got you too. “This has to be one of the most insane days…” She nodded while you both laughed, catching your breath before she talked.

“I’m watching over you, I’ll stand at the gate. That I can do.” she stood there for a second longer, her lips pursed in that shy smile she usually gave people, the ones she actually cares about.

“Thanks Nance…” You let go of her hand, to give her a playful bump on her shoulder. She nodded as she saw you finally stand up.

Robin looked at you with curious eyes, as she saw you finally leaving the couch. She watched in a quiet manner as she saw you grab the car keys and put them in your pocket, and how you looked around as you put your hair up in a messy ponytail, bumps caused by shaky fingers. She only put her hand around Steve’s arm, her eyes still trained on you, once she saw you pocketing the vodka bottle and the old rag to light it up.

Steve looked at Robin first, following her eyesight until she saw you, trying to not look suspicious as the rag poked out of the pocket of your brown leather jacket.

You knew you were being caught as soon as you heard the sudden silence.

“Woah, woah, hey…Where do you think you’re going?” Steve pointed out, one hand on his waist as the other one gesticulated widely. Confusion and worry evident in the way he spoke, his voice coming up and down like a rollercoaster.

“What do you think?” The frustration was clear in the way you not only looked back at him, but in the way your words sting. “You’re wasting time…” You were now defeated, your hands now buried deep into your jacket pockets, fingers playing around with what you had in them, a way of distracting yourself.

“We’re not.” Dustin tried to make a point, though his furrowed brows read as sadness. “We need a plan, so we’re just trying to come up with one…”

“What plan? We go in, Nancy guards the door, we get him, we come back.” Your shoulders scrunch up as you simplified it all, their eyes switched from you to Nancy, who was still sat down at the sofa, a bit tenser than when you were beside her.

“Nance, you’re not coming?” Steve inquired, his whole body turning to face her from a distance.

“I… I can’t…” Her eyes crystalised as shock emanated from her body.

“She doesn’t have to, I’ll be with her, we’ll keep watch. Right?” Jonathan jumped in, reassuring Nancy, as Steve took a step back. “You’re not leaving my sight.” He whispered in her ear once he got by her side, their foreheads touching.

You smiled to yourself, a sweet moment between them. The world stopped for them, you could tell, and that’s exactly what you were craving right now, and worrying you might never get back.

“Fine, but we still don’t know how to get in.” Steve added, his arms flexing in front of his chest as he shook his head in defeat.

“Watergate.” You mutter.

“You’re insane.” Robin snapped as soon as she heard you, pausing in between words. “Even if we did manage to get down there and it was still open, how do you plan on coming back with him? What if there’s more rabies infected bats around? What if you get stuck there this time? We need to find another gate!” She was now talking in full speed, cascading words as her thoughts entered her mind.

“So we go to the woods!” You whine, frustration and impatience invade you once more.

“The woods?” Steve asked.

“She’s right.” Dustin added, his eyes finally leaving the ground shining as they did so. “Vecna killed Patrick and that created Watergate, so maybe there’s a gate near Fred’s death, like the one in the trailer…”

“What?” You questioned him as you saw him losing the train of thought. “We go to the woods and we get in and out, what’s wrong?”

“We killed Vecna, so the upside down should be collapsing since he isn’t alive and isn’t there to power it so…” He continued as he thought out loud.

“So what?” Steve asked as his voice went higher in tone.

“So it’s crumbling down.” Dustin pointed out as if it was overly obvious.

“So we have to go, now.” You said at the same time, heading to the door, no time to waste.

You heard their footsteps following you as you found your way to your car, you were finally getting somewhere.

You thought you would feel relieved once you saw you were right, what you weren’t expecting was your jaw to clench at the sight of the hidden gate.

It wasn’t big, it was small and weak.

The same thing that happened back in the graveyard started again. The wind picked up, hollowing through the trees replacing the chirping of the birds.

“Take care.” Nancy said with a trembling voice, while her hand was holding tightly with Jonathan’s.

Steve’s grip on his bat changed, firm and steady now, before twisting it a bit, readjusting it so he’d be more comfortable. Dustin’s hands fidgeted with the end of his jacket, patting his pockets checking once again that he wasn’t missing anything.

“If we’re not here in an hour, check in with El, she’s with the others guarding Max, but she should be able to…” Dustin recalled for the hundredth time, going over the plan he had been yelling about in the car drive over here.

“Yeah, one hour. Got it.” Jonathan nodded as he spoke, waving bye as you stepped in.

You just pressed your lips as you heard him.

If you only had an hour, you had to make it count. And it had to start now.

You had never just walked into the upside down. You had always fallen into it, so you didn’t have time to actually feel the veil breaking as your skin found its way in, the viscosity of the red hue, and the dryness that could be felt immediately after that. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of colour and light, as you became hypervigilant, looking up at the sky before the others found their way.

Nothing.

There was absolutely nothing there.

A cloudless sunless grey sky welcomed you, with no thunder or lightning.

If anything, that nothingness was just more unnerving.

Every step they made echoed through, and made you look around, hoping to find something that would make you keep your hopes up.

You agreed on walking to the graveyard, if there was nothing there, you’d find your way to the trailer park and go back.

“Something’s weird.” Steve pointed out, as he looked around.

“Not weird, decaying.” You added, nodding to a grey crumbled up vine. The hole in it seemed to get deeper and bigger by the second.

“Quiet.” Robin said, as she looked up. “There’s no bats, no thunder either.”

“You can still trip though.” You told her as you held her from stepping into a fallen tree branch.

You walked, you weren’t really sure for how long, yet she was right, it was oddly beautiful now. A stuck in time version of Hawkins where nothing seemed to change, where everything looked as if it was straight out of an antique photograph you had found hidden in a cupboard.

You could see the iron gate from the cemetery, the bars on it starting to fold down, as if they were wilting flowers of an old bouquet. You felt as you collectively held in your breath.

It wasn’t long after that that you started hearing someone yelling unintelligible things.

While you were slowly making your way in, Eddie lied there.

He was right where you thought he’d be -unaware that you were near him- an empty space between gravestones, his body falling into the floor, exhausted from getting there, starving and malnourished. He had been talking nonsense for a while, he started whispering it into the heavens, until now, his voice was loud, and even if he didn’t intend to, panic found its way in it.

“Just one more song? Please? I need to know you’re there. I’ll sing along again if you want!” He had been looking at the void in the sky for a long time, he wasn’t sure if it had been an hour or two, to be honest, it felt like he had been there for days. “C’mon baby, please? Just a bit more, a guitar solo, or just… your voice would be nice…” He started begging now, pleading with some force he didn’t quite believe in for something that would indicate you’re there, near. “For fuck sake! I know I’ll die here, at least you could play some music while I do so!” Themix of desperation and tiredness was now getting into him, he looked at his hands and realised how his rings looked bigger, then now danced and moved with more ease. “Or just… Maybe if you light one up?”

At the same time, you started hearing his screams, and you started picking up the pace, running through the maze of granite carved stones, with different names and dates.

Dustin was the first to start screaming his name, while you just focused on running near where the voice came from.

You’d know it was him even if you hadn’t heard him in thirty years.

Adrenaline came over your body, so you rushed until your legs stopped, all of a sudden once you saw him.

He was there, his hand on his stomach, where blackened stains in his shirt layed wrinkled.

He was there, his hair laid perfectly still in a careful knotted mess.

He was there, his chest raised up and down as he breathed.

He was there, and he was alive.

“Moon…?” The nickname you had for him fell from your lips, your tone shaking as you still couldn’t believe it.

He slowly stood up, a grin of discomfort from pain evident in his face. He looked at you, his eyes barely opening up. He was still sitting on the ground, you felt your lips curving upwards as relief invaded you, seeing him smiling at you in recognition.

“Eddie?!” Dustin screamed as he ran up to him, falling to his knees as he hugged him, his head hitting his chest, Eddie’s arms slowly wrapped around his body. “I thought I… We lost you…” His voice was muffled, still you could tell he had started crying.

“I thought I lost you too.” Eddie’s voice trembled as he looked directly at you. His eyes crystalised once he saw the first tear jump from your eyes.

You felt Robin’s hand on your shoulder, a thigh squeeze letting you know it was real. He was okay, and you were getting him back.

She nodded, letting you know it was okay if you wanted to interrupt.

You walked slowly to him, the back of your hand wiping away your tears. You let your body hit the floor, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him.

“Hi” You whispered as soon as you were a breath away from him.

“Hi” He gleamed back as soon as he got you close.

“You’re okay?” You asked, as your voice quivered, desperate to hear him again, talking directly to you.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He nodded as a trembling hand found the back of your neck.

Dustin smiled before stepping back, leaving you both alone for a moment, a much needed moment.

You gave in, melting into his arms. You were both crying quietly now, his hands stroking your hair politely, afraid that you were nothing but a mirage, while yours held on thigh to him, scared that you would cause him pain from needing that close.

“You scared me to death.” You half joked as you chuckled through the crying.

“I’m the one dying.” He added on to the joke, his lips finally kissing your temple, drinking your perfume in as he did so.

“Shut it.” You shake your head as you slowly pull back, your hand now cupping his cheek, as your thumb slowly graces the high points of his cheekbone. “I’m getting you home.”

You thought about kissing him, your lips touching his, melting completely under his touch. But once he leaned in to do so you saw how blood stained his shirt again, your eyes darted from his as you looked down, the red growing wider by the second.

Fear invaded your body again, a sense of urgency creeping over both of you.

“Yeah, we should really go” He grunted through gritted teeth.

It had been a blur.

Nancy grabbed your car keys from your hand, as you helped Eddie inside the car, sitting on the back with him. Cradling him as you talked to him, trying to keep him calm even if you were panicking deep inside.

Steve arrived at his house before you, opening the door wide open, Robin helping you bring Eddie in.

They were downstairs now, phoning Hopper, and El and finally Wayne.

Steve’s bedroom guest had a big window where sun creeped in, a soft breeze helping him cool off as cold sweat dripped from his forehead. You helped him lay on the soft mattress sitting next to him carefully.

You had enough supplies hidden under the bed, you knew you could stitch him up enough so he would stop hurting, you had enough experience patching people up.

“Can you take your shirt off?” You asked him with a slight raise of your eyebrows.

“You already want me naked?” He joked. He tended to do that when he got nervous. You tilted your head as you bent over so you could take the little box full of supplies out of underneath the bed. He chuckled once he saw the box in your hands. He started trying to take his jacket off, with a grunt in his face he shook his head. “I might need help.” He admitted, a grunt on the back of his throat.

“Thought so.” You muttered under your breath.

You scootched over to him, your trembling hands becoming steadier as they found the neck of his jacket, pulling it down slowly. At first, Eddie moved, tried to help. Once he felt your hands against his arms however, he stood still, his eyes not letting go of you, and the way your hands moved with such carefulness and tenderness.

The tips of your fingers were now in between his skin and his shirt, soaked in dirt and blood.

You looked at him before pulling it up, he nodded, his eyelids halved opened, a cautious smile in his lips. He sucked to his teeth as his skin separated from the stiff cloth, your fingers brushed his abdomen with care, avoiding to trace his skin as soon as you saw the grin of discomfort he had on his lips. His arms ached once they were up in the air, the shirt falling off of them slowly.

“It looks worse than I thought.” Eddie grunted as he finally looked down. You guided his torso against the cushions that were prepped up, his hand lingered to your arms, the tip of his fingers burrowing into your skin.

“I’ll clean it up, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” You tried to play it off, a kind smile curved your lips upwards, a little gesture he imitated.

“You must really like me” He started in a soft whisper. “You keep lying trying to make it all better.”

You laughed it off, a short chuckle coming out of him. You started soaking the cotton swab with alcohol, the odor of it filling the small gap between the both of you.

“You know I do.” He smiled in a soft manner, his teeth showing as he tilted his head. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled kindly before starting to clean his wounds. They were as if someone ripped and crumpled a paper sheet. They weren’t deep, just repetitive bite and claw marks over the same spot. The big one was on his lower abdomen, another one near his collarbone, a gash on his neck. His arms were full of scratches and deep cuts you had to keep clean.

He didn’t complain. He just let you do whatever you thought you had to, deep down he knew that if he let you take care of him, you’d feel better. And if he was being honest with himself, he enjoyed you dotting and caring for him, you knew it was because he won’t trust anyone else but you.

“You know you could just wait for Hopper to come right? He’ll probably make me go to a hospital or something.” He whispered in an attempt to get you to look back at him, his eyes not leaving yours.

“I know, I just…”

“I’m okay.” He started, reassuring you, trying to get you to stop overcleaning the same spot on his chest. “Hey.” You kept overdoing it, a blank look on your face. “Darling, please…” He begged now, the way his lips said the nickname snapping you out of it.

“I thought you were dead.” You crumbled down, nervous tears threatening to jump out, your lips quivering as you started to talk. “I thought you were gone, Moon…”

“I’m not.” He reached out, his hand finally holding yours. “You really think it’s going to be that easy? You’re not getting rid of me.”

“I buried you… Well there was nothing in there but… I just.”

“I know, I heard you and Wayne talking.” He confessed, his eyes changing, now they were full of melancholy, and a hint of guilt. “I’m sorry by the way…”

“What the fuck are you on?” The words fell right out of your lips, tilting your head as your tone went higher.

“I just… I heard you crying. Begging and all that. I’m sorry I almost died and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything I wanted to, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I loved you before, I’m sorry I left I-” You interrupted him, as soon as you heard the big word. Your hand tightening around his.

“You do?”

“I do what?” He tried to brush it off, the confession had fallen out of his mouth without him thinking too much about it.

“Love me?” You were embarrassed by how hopeful you sound. His free hand travelled to your cheek, slowly stroking it as he looked deeply into your eyes, falling deeply into them.

You gave in, your head now resting in the palm of his hand, he slowly pulled you closer to him. Finally closing the distance between the both of you, slowly, then all at once. His lips met yours, a smile appearing on both of them. It was a careful kiss, a needy and soft kiss. It said more things than you both could ever tell eachother. His lips begged for yours to never leave him again, to let him stay by your side. Yours were yelling for him to be patient, and let you love him in a quiet and slow manner.

You pulled away slowly, your forehead touching his.

You both knew each other understood. Still, he whispered low enough for you to barely hear him, right before you were interrupted by the door opening. “Of course I do.”

“Happy you’re back kid.” Hopper’s voice interrupted the both of you, moving your heads so you could look at him. “I’m sorry but you’ll have to answer a couple of questions, then go to the hospital”

“Stay?” Eddie asked, a promise in his voice.

“Yes. For as long as you let me.”

He kissed the tip of your nose, before talking again.

“Forever then.”

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