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sarahdogoc80 · 4 months ago

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Part 3. The Perfect Victims at Perfect Times

Sometimes interesting about the Diet Pill Crisis and Pain Pill Crisis was who they targeted. In both these cases the perfect victims were women of their current times. While guys would jump in later they usually did the street version of the percriptions.

Let's start with the diet pill Crisis of the 1970's that spawned the crack and cocaine problem. As this one I wasn't able to experience personally and was only able to read about/ heard about in my hippie group from some of the older women. I'm sure everyone reading this knows post war America wasn't the best time for women. Due to the unhealthy beauty standard and a little info German doctor coming over to America brought was a recipe for disaster. They started giving the women amphetamine and later when the women couldn't handle the speeders they'd give them Valium to calm them down. I can only see this ending well. The unhealthy beauty standard along with the loose regulation around diet pills. They were becoming a problem because women realized that the speeder made them thin and able to deal with their shitty husbands. Young women and older girls were encouraged to take these pills. Because they had to look perfect otherwise their husband would cheat and not love them. Which is also great for young women and girls phycology/S. My grandma use to take a diet pill called Black Beauties. I'm sure they weren't called that because the pills were just so beautiful. But they were black with black beads in them. Thought this bubble would pop and crackdowns stared on diet pills around the early 70's. So you know what that means. Women who couldn't get them legally or just find people selling their pills. Started doing cocaine. I wonder if any government organizations had anything to do with this so they could fund their anti whatever in South America and the Middle East. Well another thing that was going on at the time was the break down of segregation. Thought alot of places even today still feel the effects of segregation even more so back then when it has only started being criminalized like ten years ago at that point. So many poor women (usually women of color) couldn't afford to buy the cocaine. But don't worry the American Government being a piller for equity though their money was just as good as the rich white women's money. It was all going to be used to try and over throw someone. They supposedly came up with a cheaper alternative. And they supposedly started having people sell that to minority communities.

My grandma came from money so once she couldn't find Black Beauties anymore she got hooked on cocaine. As did one of her sisters. Her younger sister was actually a huge coke dealer for the area. Well she and her husband got busted. And so her mommy came and bailed both them out and while my great grandma and her daughter trying to figure out how to get out of this. Her husband got drunk and crashed the car and died. So my great grandma got her daughter to see a judge she was friends with. And my great aunt played a battered house wife who was forced to help with the drug dealing. And because he was dead he couldn't defend himself or prove otherwise. She got a year of probation and left the state once that was up. My great grandma had a "habit" of paying off judges for her kids by the way. My grandpa (who would have just been her daughter's boyfriend at the time) crashed his motorcycle with a 1000 Quaaludes for my grandma while drunk. And my great grandma arranged for him to pay the judge off so he never got in trouble.

I want to state something that will be important context. So what was America like in the 70's when this started getting bad. Well the 70's were rough. There was the gas rationing that had to happen under Carter. The factories where going overseas and alot of the adult boomers were left to dry. That's probably why they tell us to try harder. Because that's probably what they were told by their parents. Because people were losing their factory jobs they couldn't support their family and so had to figure out something. People were coming back from Vietnam around this time too. And as we Americans know the Vietnam veterans weren't respected by their country or country men. And crippling PTSD was just ignored or they were given addictive substance like Valium and opiates. Martial rape was finally being recognized and women were starting to be allowed to open bank account. No fault divorces also started rolling out in states. Making it so women could leave but religious and social pressures still kept many women stuck. It was a rough time and didn't breed the most healthy mind sets. And alot of these people just couldn't stop because they weren't there mentally. I think it's started to be understood that Gen x and Older millennial had apathetic parents and this wasn't a good thing actually. These factors are why and insured the next generation of addicts would have trama the pharmaceutical industry could manipulate.

The cocaine stuff started dying down in the 90's I wanta say. While it was still big cocaine started getting cut with garbage because the government wasn't important pure stuff anymore. So my grandma as she puts it. It was more dangerous and wasn't as good as the old stuff. Another event also happened in the 90's that was very special for this coming disaster. The kids born and raised during the crack/cocaine epidemic are becoming adults and working. And a very important drug was on the horizon. "So remember kids your government sponsors the Billion dollar pharmaceutical industry. So if you got a problem they got the salutation."

Opioids weren't a new thing in the 90's like I said they've known it's addictive for years at that point. But their over percriptions stated climbing. By the turn of the century a lot of adults had been on an opioid atleast once. And it was something people would do for "fun". Well with that event that happened in 2001 came hardships. People lost their families to terrorist attacks, people's anxiety about another attack, and people's family getting sent over to fight a very unpopular war. So addiction on most substances went up.

Before I move on I need to make something clear. Before fentanyl was a main ingredient in Heroin it was usually oxy products. I've never done heroin nor do I know how it's made but like I said people just heard this stuff though the grape vines. But the reason they used oxy products was because pills like Percocet, Vikes, and codeine had too much filler for the little they would get out of it. So it wasn't worth it to try and get the opioids out of those. But oxy products were pretty much straight opioids and had a lot in them especially when they still sold the 120mg ones. Yes those were sold but taken off the market before my mom got into it because um if you don't know that's a lot of opioid. And people who were new to drugs and kids stealing their parent's drugs were ODing off one pill so they stopped producing those a while ago. So before fentanyl was in everything it was probably morphine or more likely oxy. The reason for the shift over was because in 2011 America and like no one else approved this coating to be put on oxy products. This coating would turn into this melted mochi like glob when you'd crush it and it got it wet. So now people who tried to inject, snort it, or turn it into heroin where met with it turning into melted mochi making it useless. But many countries still have what Americans refer to as the crushable ones because this coating very much causes liver cancer. And most other countries banned this coating.

So the 2008 Reccestion happened and everything went to shit. To put this into prospective people where loosing their jobs, their homes, still loosing family members to war, 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina also put a hard strain on people's faith in the government, and people couldn't get government benefits because of how the Bush administration handled this stuff. With this lost in faith in the government people realized they were on their own for the most part. So to keep their heads above water people started hearing about this thing people have been doing of getting pain pills and just selling them. And making a decent amount of money. And the more and more people did this the more people talked and the more "normal" people got dragged into this. Most of the time the mothers of these families or just women in general had an easier time getting them. Plus men still had this sigma to doing it themselves. But making their wives do it was okay. So many families go into this so they could feed their kids, buy their kids school stuff, keep bills paid and it hinged on selling pain pills. But this was a network. Because in my city especially these middle class white women didn't want to have to talk to a hood drug dealer. But there were people in town who would so people would sell to them and be done with it. So when I explained this to make it clear your parents/ middle class and higher people most likely weren't dealing with the worse of the worse. They were probably selling them to a middle man from your town. And most importantly not thinking of the consequences. Another thing I need to make clear is I know a lot of people were horrified when they finally got a peak behind the opiate black market and what it was doing. So people I know for a fact were selling don't want to think they were causing this. So I've seen people who were selling talk as if they weren't selling and would never have done that. When they were. But the opioid crisis wasn't funded by just the addicts or bad people. But doctor and normal people who just didn't care, realize, or were in desperate situations and had their hands tied. I think it's important for everyone who had any part of this to be honest not to shame them though. But so people who want to blame the junkies as a scapegoat can see the honest truth of people doing this and why. Because the more people hide their part in this the more it pushes blame on the addicts and people it's easy to blame. And it causes people to have some wacky ideas about the crisis.

But what about the people who didn't understand drugs started taking these new fancy oxycodine. Well this ended up having way more devastating effects. Because like their mothers alot of women were still stuck in shitty situations. Especially during the economic hardship and mental health was still heavenly stigmatized during the Bush and early Obama administrations. So your wife being on anti depressed looked bad but them being on pain medicine you didn't care about for their lady pains was easier to digest. We had people who just wanted an escape from the world around them. And the Oxycotin company sold them a solution. "They put it in your brain that it [Drug] is the salutation for depression, weight loss, spinal contusion. So take this, better yet take two of them."

My mom started abusing them once she'd had enough of my dad's shit. And it "helped" her get though dealing with him. He was starting to become very physically abusive at the time. My mom also had to deal with my autistic brother and I think around the time he had just started saying words at 5. They thought he was going to be mute. My mom was also a couple years out of having to watch me go through three years of cancer treatments. And was working almost 12 hour shifts in a factory at night. She wasn't in a good place mental and will properly never be. She also had to grow up with her mom used cocaine so she didn't have to deal with her father. So while it's easy for my to say my mom should have just been stronger or seen thought the sales propaganda. But when you look at the humanity behind it she wasn't in a right state of mind to just stop once Doctor A. got her hooked. She did try and showed hesitation but he then lied to her saying oxycodine was less addictive because it lasted longer. Now to people who understand addictive substances probley see this excuse for what it is sales propaganda. But it was 2008 and with her personal life. She just didn't have all the info/ mental fortitude to argue. She had no surpost form her family either around this time. My grandma had been kicked out because she sided with my grandpa over some property my dad had stolen from him. My grandpa was mad his daughter was taking my dad's side and because he was also abusive told her she deserved to be beat by my dad. And her sister had her own stuff going on. This isn't my mom's fault completely. It just wasn't a good situation for my mom especially because she had to work in a factory, take care of me and my brother (because my dad didn't do child care), and had been in 5 car accident at that point most of them from her falling asleep at the wheel because of how overwhelmed she was. So for people who just want to blame people like her for falling down this pit. You probably wouldn't have done much better. While you can say you would in 2024 looking back on this with hindsight. This is missing the point completely of understanding the time period and what different families had to go through. Alot of use don't realize why Obama "Change" campaign went over so well. Bush had a bunch of stuff happen under his presidency that he didn't handle well and America started becoming jaded. It was a different social environment we can't say how much better we would have done. But doctor and the government should have minimize this by not taking payout from drug companies to push an addictive substance or put more value on physical therapy, non addictive medicine, coughnotcriminalizingweedcough, and most importantly invested in mental health.

My grandma now after being a victim of the diet pill epidemic got to watch her daughter go though the same thing with oxycodine. The only difference is my mom has liver cancer and her body is shutting down. Unlike my grandma she wasn't able to stop in time. So now my grandma has to watch as her daughter slowly dies. And the worse part she said was the doctor knew what he was doing, he had to, he could have stopped this. That this didn't need to happen. Due to my mom's abuse of drugs my grandmother refuses to go to pain management and only goes to doctors if she has to. She was screwed by doctors for a paycheck one to many times. My grandpa after seeing how pain medicine effected his daughter. He stopped taking any pain management. He was dying of cancer when she got bad. And in his last days he refused morphine because of my mom. He was slowly bleeding to death because his plantlets were non existing. Even in the face of certain death he refused pain medicine because of how much trama was associated with them. The only thing My grandpa had for his last 6 years of life was weed. It was the only thing making it so he would eat and not just lay there in pain. My grandma stopped cocaine around the time I was born because my mom said she would never know her grandkids if she didn't stop. It was enough of a wake up call for her to stop but because of my cancer diagnosis she has a relapse for a little bit. But since 2005 has only done weed and drinks a couple beers every now and then. Which is preferable but what do I know.

My mom just didn't have the will to stop due to her own undiagnosed mental disorders and the trama she was trying to burry with more pills. Now that she is getting the proper help it's too late and her kidneys are barely functioning, her liver is poisoning her, and her heart can give out at any moment. Me and my brother will probably never get any justice because she was doing stuff outside of Oxycotin. So legally and medically they can't 100 confirm that's what caused these problems. Medical lawsuits of any kind are hard to argue against especially because all the court has to do is say she was just some junkie. And then I have no case. While others where still able to bring them down and drag a lot of the corruptions through the mud. It's too little to late. They should have never paided doctors to do this.

When you look at the victims of Oxycotin please remember what they had to work with at the time. I need to state not all drug addicts are good people but that doesn't mean all of them are/were trying to hurt anyone. Its up to you to forgive the addicts in your life and you aren't entitled to. This Crisis brought out the worse in everyone and if you can't forgive an addict that is trying to get better that's fine. But don't treat them like they are lesser. Make your boundaries clear with the recovering addict in your life. Sobriety is possible no one is a lost cause. But if you are an addict please try and get the best therapy you can. Because it will be a huge help.

TLDR: both times regardless of if they ment to the pharmaceutical industry targeted women during times of stress. And with Oxycotin they paid doctor to get people hooked and used the old drug dealer strategy of "The first one is free." And to burry their corruption everyone involved threw their victims under the bus and dehumanize them. So you don't see when the pharmacusal industry does this again with the next substance. Then they will dehumanize you when you become to inconvenient for them.

#drug awareness #lily orchard critical #lily peet #lily orchard #mikalia orchard #Wow Lorch blaming the victims of a situation she doesn't understand #Color me shocked #capitalism is hell

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hazbincalifornia · 1 year ago

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Whoah if we could see that. Stella doesn’t know cash personally, doesn’t have memories or probably even knows what he looks like, or experiences like her dad had raised by him. But if she saw him, a bit jarring as she sees him who resembles her dad a lot but worse, haggard and old, husk of a man. A dismissive statement about oh, you’re his grandkid, huh? What’d your dad have to do, or who’d he have to spread his legs for to get someone funny looking like you

She took him in with just a glance. Nice clothes that had been long since worn with time, and hanging off a thin frame with a head he could barely seem to hold up from the weight of his horns and the stink of cheap, heavy booze that oozed through the pores of the skin and colored his tongue.

"A prince."

"Hmm?"

"I have two dads. One of them is a prince of the Ars Goetia."

It took him a moment to process that, voice crackling with age and alcohol as he did. "You're shittin' me."

She spread her arms as if about to take a bow, flicking the feathered end of her tail. "Look at me. The fuck else would I come from, old man? Sinners can't have kids, and nobody else looks like birds."

"…Son of a bitch." He squinted at her, and she watched him back. It was almost wild, how he looked like Dad but thrown through three layers of funhouse mirror, with everything she cared about suctioned away and twisted into broken glass. Shrunken, compared to her. Small. "Sold himself, did he?"

"Nope. Papa just liked him." She blinked. "He lives in the palace now. I've got two sisters and a little brother." Pause. "He never told me much about you."

His face wrinkled at that before he shook it off. "Ungrateful little shit. He ruined everything for everybody, and then didn't even bother coming back when he caught some rich titty to suck off of? It'd be the least he could do."

"My papa was…." Blitz crossed his arms, bouncing his foot as he figured out how to phrase it. She was young, too young to get details even though she'd heard him sometimes when he was drunk and curled up against Papa when she was supposed to be in bed. His fingers tightened ever-so-slightly on his biceps, so subtly she was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to notice, but she was real good at noticing little things like that. "Not great. Nothing I did was good enough for him, even when I tried my best." He dropped down to one knee, setting a hand on her shoulder. "I don't ever want you feeling like I don't care, alright, sweetie?"

"Yeah, well." She tilted her head. "He did it all by himself. He runs a business now."

He raised an eyebrow, tail cracking like a whip. "What kind?"

"He kills people. He taught me how to do it too." She spread her fingers, pulling her favorite gun from nothingness with a few sparkles and a rip in the fabric of space. "A lot of people tried to kill me when I was little, so I had to learn fast." She spun the gun around on the edge of a slender finger, watching as the blood flooded his face as it fell into place in her hand like it belonged there.

"Now, sweetie-"

"I like my Daddy a lot." She aimed the gun, and he took a step back. "And I know he doesn't like you."

"C'mon, I'm your grandpa-"

She fired. It went right between his horns, and his eyes darted up as the smoke curled before jolting back to her.

"Sometimes when he drinks too much, he talks about you. It makes him sad, and I don't like that. If you ever get close to him and make him feel bad again, I'll put the next one between your fucking eyes. I'm good at finding people too, even when they try to hide. Got it?"

From the way his head bounced like a bobblehead, he got it.

Good.

#shadow writes stuff #daddy blitzo #asks #anonymous

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lillywillow · 2 years ago

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Mateship

Summary: During the war, Bucky met a quirky Australian stretcher bearer. What happens when he meets their grandchild?

Written for: @buckybarnesbingo

Words: 1007

Square Filled: B4- Mates

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Australian!Reader

Warnings: Mild swearing, drinking, smoking

London, 1943

Bucky and his squadron were given some time of to rest before being shipped out again. Everyone was in a party mood; drinking, talking to the beautiful women, just having a great time. Even Steve seemed to be enjoying himself. Bucky stepped outside for a few minutes to get a little fresh air. As he walked out the door, he noticed a soldier in a different uniform leaning against the wall smoking.

“How’s it goin’?” he drawled in a thick accent that Bucky couldn’t quite place.

“Good…” Bucky replied, unsure if this was the correct response.

“Durry?” the man asked, offering out one of his cigarettes.

Bucky wasn’t much of a smoker but an occasional one or two when he was out in social events. He took the offered cig and lit it up.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Bucky asked.

“Me? A pom? Nah,” he scoffed. “I’m from Australia. I’m a stretcher-bearer. Gimme a sec, mate… Dazza, if you slip in your spew, I’m not taking you back to the barracks like that!”

Bucky looked to see him yelling at another man who had stumbled out of the bar to lean on a nearby wall to throw up. He only gave the middle finger in response. Bucky was used to rowdy soldiers but this was different.

“Look at ‘im. Pissed off his face yet still responsive,” the man chuckled to himself before giving Bucky a formal introduction to which Bucky also introduced himself.

“So, Jimbo, you got someone waiting for you back home?”

“Nah. Maybe one day I’ll meet the right one but for now, I’m still single,” Bucky casually shrugged.

“It’s alright, mate. Sometimes it takes a while, sometimes it’ll catch you by surprise. Take my sheila for instance. Never thought I’d ever get married but then, there she was,” he smiled, taking out a picture for Bucky to look at.

Bucky smiled softly at the portrait of a young woman standing with this goofball beside him. They seemed to be very much in love. The conversation was cut short by a crash as ‘Dazza’ fell over. The Australian rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Daz. Let’s get you back,” he sighed.

“Need a hand?” Bucky offered.

“I’ve got it, mate. Daz might be a pain in the arse but he’s my mate and I’ll get him back alright,” he reassured him with a smile.

Bucky watched as the hauled the drunk soldier over his shoulder and carried him away.

“Hope to see you again sometime, Jimbo!” he called as he headed off.

Bucky hoped so too. This guy may have been a little rough but he seemed like an overall good guy.

…

For the rest of Bucky’s stay in London, he ran into the soldier a few times. He got to know the Aussie better and learnt a little bit about life in Australia. Whenever someone would have a bit too much to drink, Bucky would help him carry them back to where ever they were staying. As the stretcher-bearer said, ‘they might be a pain in the arse sometimes but you always have your mate’s back’. The pair of them even promised to exchange letters once the war was over. Unfortunately, Bucky never got to keep his end of the promise.

…

London, present day

The Avengers had taken up a mission in England and with it complete, they had some time to have a look around. Bucky and Steve took an opportunity to have a look around the old places they went to back during the war. To their surprise, the Whip and Fiddle pub was still a functioning establishment. The interior had changed a little but it was still like they remembered it. Bucky ordered a drink and sat down at the bar. Memories began to play out in his mind. He barely noticed when someone sat next to him. After a while, he could feel somebody was staring at him.

“Can I help you?”

The person jumped at suddenly being spoken to.

“Sorry for staring. You just look like a guy in one of my grandpa’s pictures,” they sheepishly smiled.

Wait, Bucky recognised that accent.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Australian, would you?” Bucky pried.

“Yep! Born and raised! I’m taking a tour of the places my grandpa went during the war. He passed away recently and I just wanted to find some way to honour him…”

Bucky’s heart started to beat a little faster.

“Do you have a picture of him?”

“Sure do!”

You handed him a picture that you had taken with your phone. The man was much older but he still recognised that same goofy smile with the cigarette dangling from his lips.

“I knew him,” he breathed.

“You did?”

“Back during the war…”

Bucky went on to explain his situation, how he had stayed so young and how he knew your grandfather during the war.

You were in awe of his story. Your grandfather had told you stories about Jimbo Barnes over the years but now here you were actually talking to the man himself. Bucky told you stories about what antics your grandpa got up to in the pub and you told him what life was like for him once he had returned. You both laughed at the stories until the laughter died down.

“I miss the old bugger,” you sadly smiled.

“He was a good… mate,” he smiled back, using your own lingo.

“He was… I’ve really enjoyed talking with you, Bucky.”

“I’ve enjoyed talking with you too. Could I have your number so we could keep in touch?”

“I’d like that,” you smiled.

You would have like to think that your grandfather brought the two of you together. Maybe the pair of you would form a different kind of mateship.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Australian Reader #bbb2022 #bucky barnes bingo #Mateship #Mates #ww2 #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel one shot

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uncpanda · 4 years ago

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Scars

Prompt 41: Let me see your scars

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Requested by: ANON

It’s about a month after Haley’s death when you end up having to head back to the office at close to one in the morning. You left behind a file you need over the weekend, and you figure on your way home from a rather disastrous date is as good a time as any. And since the BAU never seems to close you figure you’ll take advantage of it.

You’re shocked to see the light still on in Hotch’s office. You’d been pretty sure that he had left around the same time you had. You stuff the file in your bag before heading up the stairs. You find him asleep on the couch, his eyes fluttering, and little whimpers coming out. You sink to your knees beside him and gently shake him awake.

It’s automatic, and as he jack knifes into a sitting position he knocks you backwards. You wince when you bang your elbow on the floor. Hotch sees you immediately, and a second later he’s pulling you to your feet. “What are you doing here?”

You rub the sore spot on your arm, “I forgot a file I needed over the weekend. I expected a cleaning crew and maybe a few stragglers. I thought you went home.”

“I did.”

The usual stoicism is in place and you sigh. Hotch had never been good about letting people in, even if he has known you for a handful of months, “So, the couch in your office was more comfortable than the one in your home.”

He grunts, “It’s okay to not be okay.”

“Not according to the brass.”

“The brass doesn’t know shit. They sit behind a desk and play politics while we see the gruesome horrible stuff this world has to offer. And each time we go out there we get scars. More times than not they’re mental more than physical. It’s okay to share your scars.”

He studies you for a second and says, “Let me see your scars and I’ll show you mine.”

You hesitate for a second, but you had always hated hypocrites, “I have three kids at home. My siblings. Ian, is fifteen. Grayson is twelve. And the youngest, Freddy is nine. He also happens to be a genius on Reid’s level. My parents died two years ago in a robbery gone wrong, and the courts said my grandpa was too old to take care of them by himself. So, I moved them here with the money I got when I sold my parents’ house, put their life insurance into college funds, and convinced my grandfather to move out here too. He watches them when we’re away on cases.

“On top of that, I have an older brother, Leigh. He’s a year older than me and an alcoholic. He’s an amazing artist but he has a hard time sticking to his program. I actually just finished bailing him out of jail for drunk and disorderly conduct, and I’m going to have to take a few days to try and talk him into rehab . . . again.

“And I love my siblings. I really do. I’d do anything for them, but sometimes I wish I could have that perfect life I always dreamed of. I wish that I could go on a date without having a cop call me in the middle of it and have the person across from me scowl as I leave him again for something out of my control.” You shrug.

Aaron studies you, “Then why the BAU there are other departments.”

Your bottom lip disappears under your teeth before you sigh and say, “I put my career on hold when my parents died. They had Leigh and Me young like seventeen and eighteen young. They gave us everything they had and I figured I needed to do the same. So I took sabbatical, came up with a routine, and when I went back to work I transferred from homicide to the white collar devision because it had me home at a predictable hour. And I was miserable. I hated it. With a passion. Everyone noticed. Ian was the one who told me to transfer to a department I liked even if meant more hours. He said I was dragging everyone down with my mood. The others assured me they would be fine. Freddy came up with some sort of calculation proving we could make it work, and my grandfather said I would only be a call away if they needed me.

“And I know myself well enough that if something is important I would pass up a case in a heartbeat to be there. So, when the position in the BAU opened up, I applied. And I got it. And we’ve all been happier since. Your turn.”

He hesitates for a moment, but you’ve just bared your soul and he’s a man of his word, “The house is too quiet. Jack is away with Haley’s family, which is good, but the house is too quiet. And at the same time it’s too loud. When I’m alone there, all I can hear are my failures. And I start to think about how I let the job swallow me whole? I wonder when I became a man who can’t smile?”

You settle in on the seat next to him, “You’re in mourning. It’s normal. Trust me. I didn’t smile or laugh for months after my parents were killed. I couldn’t. I was too focused on being what everyone needed me to be: a mom to my siblings, a sponsor for Leigh, and a reassurance for my grandfather. And one day I just broke. I was in the parking lot at the grocery store, maybe eight months after it happened. I’d been back at work for two months, and I just broke down in tears. I sat there crying for so long that the ice cream melted.”

You watch his lips quirk, “See, there’s your smile. Or at least a hint of it.”

“Is it possible to move on?”

“Life moves on Hotch. And there’s no use in trying to stop it.” He nods, and you throw in a bit of teasing, “And, if your apartment ever gets too quiet, I have a moody teenager, and a preteen that you are more than welcome to borrow.”

“Not Freddy?”

“Freddy is my angle child. You’re not getting him.”

This time he smiles for real and you stand up. He leans back into the couch and you study each other for a moment before you swoop down and brush a kiss against his cheek. You linger long enough to whisper in his ear, “I’m here if you need me.” And then you head home.

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #cm fanfic #cm reader insert #criminal minds fanfic

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secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer · 5 years ago

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Invisible String (Harry Styles x Reader)

(Soulmate AU)

A/N: Got inspired with this while listening to Taylor Swift’s Invisible string, hence the title. It took me a really long time to write this, hope you like it!

Warnings: none

Summary: In a world where soulmates are connected by an invisible red thread, how would you find yours?

“Maybe if I yank it hard enough, I’ll pull him to me.”

“Honey, you know that’s not how it works, right?” My Mom leaned forward and placed her hand on my arm, she looked genuinely concerned for me.

“Mom, you got it easy. You were fifteen when you bumped into dad. Literally. And here I am, twenty-six and still don’t know who is my soulmate,” My voice rising slowly as I pushed her hand away from me, I was getting rather frustrated having the same conversations over and over again.

“Oh don't be so dramatic, your Grandma was thirty-five when she met your Grandpa and you know how happy they were. You'll find him," my mom tried to reassure me. Again. “Or her," tilting her head to the side, she added as an afterthought.

I almost wanted to roll my eyes, my Grandma was a very patient lady, unfortunately, she didn't pass down the trait to me.

I had been waiting for my soulmate ever since I turned five and sort of understood the concept. Invisible red strings. Fate. The one.

My parents sat me down one fine day and explained to me how two people that were meant to be together were connected by an invisible red thread tied to their little fingers.

All I asked them at the time was if the thread was invisible, how did people know it was red. They told me I'll find out in due time.

I still didn't know the answer to that.

But after my five-year-old brain had absorbed the newly received information, I got obsessed with finding my soulmate.

There was something incredibly reassuring about having someone only meant for you. But wrapped around it was the uncertainty of how and when and you will find them, or even if you'll find them.

After that day, I would constantly find myself reaching for my pinky finger, a calmness washing over me, a hope to find someone, and call them mine.

My friends and I spent hours discussing our soulmates, what they would look like, how would we meet them, and so on. Our parents would look at us and coo, mostly finding this adorable, reminding them of a time when they were young and probably did the same.

That's how things worked.

I was ten and had left my obsession behind. I still found comfort in my little finger during times of sadness and anger.

One night in the middle of June, after a big fight with my parents, I ran up to my room, plopped myself on the bed, and let loose all the emotions building up in me.

It was a few hours later when my breathing calmed down and the tears on my cheeks dried when my left hand reached for my pinky, and my fingers felt a soft textured thread reaching out from it.

My eyes widened as I looked down at my hands but found nothing, only my fingers wrapped around what seemed to be air, a few inches in front of my right hand's littlest finger.

I could not comprehend what had happened and chalked it up to delusions due to my tiredness.

The next morning I woke up, groggy, my hands automatically reached for the supposed string that I could feel the previous night and found that I could still touch it. "Maybe I am still tired," I convinced myself before sleeping for another few hours.

It was after spending a few days just feeling out the string that I realised I could touch the red string of fate.

My parents didn't believe so, they thought I was still a delusional kid with my head up in the clouds. They found it cute for a couple of days, happy that I was still interested in finding a soulmate, but then my constant attempts at convincing them that it was true got annoying for them.

No one seemed to believe me, and my friends thought I was lying for attention.

Nothing like this had ever happened. Fate worked mysteriously, fate worked behind the scenes. No one was supposed to know how, it just worked. I must be lying.

Since no one believed me, I found solace in my thread, in my soulmate. I tried pulling the string, hoping the one on the other side would reply, would pull it towards them as well. But nothing.

I guessed maybe they couldn't feel the string as well, just like everybody else. But my soulmate was not like everybody else. If I could touch the thread then they could as well, after all, our souls were connected. Maybe they just didn't want me.

I never stopped though, just like my pinky had become my safety blanket, I found a new comfort in pulling the thread, twisting it between my fingers, still praying that my other half could feel it, even if they didn't respond.

I would spend hours trying to follow the thread, but it seemed endless and at the time, my block was where my world ended. My soulmate was way out of my reach.

Three months later, in the middle of my English class, I felt it. A tug. I looked down, before realising I could not see it. I almost laughed at my stupidity, but it was clear as day, my soulmate had responded.

My head shook as a slow smile crept up my face and I couldn't stop the sigh leaving my mouth. My classmates probably worried about my sanity, shaking my head and smiling at nothing sitting in the centre of the classroom. But I didn't care.

Knowing that there indeed was someone on the other side was like finding a piece of land after a lifetime at sea. I didn't waste a second to reply and received a tug again. I smiled, he was here and he was here to stay.

It was the start of something new. Every time, one of us felt down or lonely or happy we would pull at our thread, we now had someone to share those moments with.

I didn't know if his family or friends knew about us, but it felt like our secret.

Over the years, we formed this new language between us. Sometimes, we would pull the thread at the same time, or wait for the other to respond but no one would. It was uncoordinated and messy, like two drunk people attempting to dance, but it was ours.

I was eighteen when I figured a way to enhance our communication. Morse code.

It was some random detective show that gave me the idea and it seemed perfect. I just didn't know how to communicate this to him.

It took me less than a month to learn morse code. After I was done learning, I tried pulling at the thread in a specific pattern ‘Hey Soulmate’.

He wouldn't understand the message, but I prayed he would realise what it was.

He did.

Somehow, my soulmate had lost the ability to disappoint me. I smiled at the thought.

It took weeks of incomprehensible back and forth between us for us to finally be able to understand each other. It was hard, but we achieved it.

I realised two things from our exchanges.

One- My soulmate was a dork, his dad jokes were endless and two- I loved every second of it.

He would start pulling at the string in the middle of the night and I had to grab the notepad and pencil from my bedside table and decipher his messages half-asleep. And It would end up being some lame knock-knock joke.

You bet I laughed every time.

Which always led me to wonder what it would be like to actually be with him. How would he be as a partner? Would he hold my hand walking down the street? Would he kiss me in front of his friends? What nickname would he give me or would he give me any at all?

I spent most of my time talking to Harry, whose name I had learnt in one of our earliest full conversations.

My parents let it slide, believing it to be some teenage issues. My friends were lucky enough to have found their own soulmates at a young enough age and were too busy being in love.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked him one night.

I kept staring at the neon stars on my ceiling. Trying to conjure his face in my mind as I waited for his response, but didn't feel the now familiar tug that carried his replies.

It seemed like hours before my little finger was finally pulled at. With my notepad and pencil at the ready, I was prepared to write. “A musician”.

The corners of my mouth were pulled upwards and I imagined a young faceless man with a guitar in his hand performing in a stadium for thousands of people.

A laugh left me when I pictured him ending his concert with a final joke. People would groan at him but laugh nonetheless. They would love him too.

My mind then wandered to a future where he was performing at the Madison Square Garden, people screaming I love you from the audience. A huge smile gracing his lips. He would then came home late at night after the concert and lay down on the bed next to me. He would wrap his arm around my sleeping form and whisper I love you in my ear and I would respond with a sleepy mmph. He would smile down at me and eventually fall asleep too.

I looked down at the thread which was still pulling but all I could catch was a question mark. I cursed myself for not paying attention and asked him to repeat his question.

“What about you, Lovie?"

I stilled. Lovie? A nickname. So he was a nickname kinda guy.

I almost forgot to reply to him. But then instantly hit him back with a “Journalist”.

My pinky was pulled again, “Maybe that is how we will cross paths”.

I liked the thought.

"Owww," my right hand was pulled harshly when I stood up to submit my English assignment, causing me to fall forward. I was confused for a few seconds, trying to piece what caused it, but found nothing.

I looked around as everyone was laughing at my clumsiness, still dazed, I stood up and placed my essay on my teacher's table who looked at me with her eyebrows furrowed in concern, her lips parted to whisper "Are you okay?"

I nodded my head and returned to my seat, head down and my thoughts racing a thousand miles a minute. Before it clicked, Harry. I couldn't believe he made me fall down on purpose, or maybe it was an accident.

“Sorry”

I shook my head at my clumsy partner and focused on my teacher who had started talking about something else already.

I wasn't going to let the incident go that soon. During our next conversation, instead of sending him a reply, I held onto the soft, invisible thread tightly and yanked it towards me.

Not getting a reply soon after, I started worrying I had actually hurt him. Panic flowed through me, this was an insane idea, why would I do that? What if he was driving? What if he was at a height?

“Owww”

I admit I laughed, the incident wasn't hilarious enough to call for that level of laughter, but I did.

All my panic had immediately flown out of me. I loved it; before he pulled his end of the string again and made me fall down.

Thus, welcomed a new addition to our language.

We would yank our strings during mid-conversations, making the other fall down wherever they were. Did injury turn us on? We never tried to guess.

Moving to college was harder than I thought, I didn't know if I was moving closer to Him or farther away.

I considered asking him where he lived, but shook the thought away, we had promised not to reveal to each other any of our identifiable qualities except for our first names. We wanted to leave some things up to the true mastermind, Fate.

Going to New York University was my dream. Receiving my acceptance letter was an emotional moment for me, it took my Mom like an hour to calm me down enough to actually read the letter.

So, physically being here, standing in my dorm room was another level of excitement. I was ready to bedazzle the world with my writing.

"Ouch," someone came rushing into me from the back. I turned around to look at the person who bumped into me, only to find a five-foot-something, brown-haired girl standing in front of me, rubbing her forehead.

"Hi."

"Hello, you must be the roommate. I'm Olivia, what about you?" Her eyes held a curious gaze, as she extended her right hand towards me.

"Y/n," I placed my hand in hers and shook it lightly, having a good feeling about her.

"Y/n, brace yourself, we're gonna be best friends for a really long time."

I knew it.

During my time at NYU, Olivia really did become my best friend, she introduced me to her soulmate, Ashley, who was somehow an even bigger bundle of joy than Liv. I didn't know that was possible.

"Who're those guys?"

"Hmm?"

"In your poster, I have always wanted to ask you that," I pointed at the big poster Liv had stuck on her wall in our first year.

She looked at me, her brows raised up to her forehead and her mouth agape, "You don't know One Direction?"

"I mean, I have heard of them. Are they any good?" I remembered my friends back home making me listen to a song of theirs, "What makes you beautiful', it was catchy but I never dug deeper into them. I didn't even know why.

"Only the best," her mouth was set into a hard line, but her forehead was covered in creases as though she was thinking deeply about something.

"Come on, I'll show you their songs. I don’t why we’ve never done this before.”

This commenced a whole night of one direction albums, music videos, their documentary, and their recent concert film. She even called Ashley to our room, which began an intense lesson on the fandom ships, theories, and dramas. It was a busy night.

By the next day, I was more knowledgable about one direction than I had ever intended to be. I didn't it mind it though, I got to further learn the inner makings of my best friend.

I had to admit, I was a little partial towards Harry Styles, his name had become a personal favourite of mine. Plus, he was cute.

I also noticed how clumsy he was on stage. Constantly falling down, mid-performances. It was hilarious. Olivia told me that's just how he was. Goofy, dorky, always telling lame jokes.

“Do you know one direction?”

I waited for his reply, this one took longer than our previous ongoing conversation. I didn't like it when he replied late.

“Yes.”

“Olivia introduced me to them.”

“Who do you like the best?”

I didn't even have to think about it at all, “Harry styles.”

I hoped he was smiling, where ever he was.

“Really? Not my personal favourite.”

That idiot. My face was hurting from smiling so much. I wondered how I would even be in this guy's presence without physically hurting my cheeks.

But I knew I wouldn't mind it, as long as I could be with him.

“Who do you like then?”

“You.”

I had never known how successful my dream of becoming a journalist could be. All I knew of back then was my talent for writing and my passion to make my voice heard. And it was all I had ever needed.

Rolling Stone was a magazine only a few could say they were not familiar with. And even fewer who wrote for it.

I was one lucky girl, who worked through countless unpaid internships before finally landing a job at this prestigious place. I had written quite a few articles under the politics section of the magazine.

I kept up with Harry over the years, at this point I knew basically everything about him, except for what he did for a living, where he lived, and who he was. But I loved him. And I waited for him, even if did get tiring at times.

Everywhere I went, it felt like everyone had found their soulmates except for me. I was the one girl standing alone in the middle of a dance floor during a couple's song.

All these years he still seemed none the closer to me.

We still found joy in tripping each other during random hours of the day though; Falling for him was the highlight of my day.

"Maybe if I yank it hard enough, I'll pull him to me."

I had a rocky relationship with my parents, they had never believed in me, too busy in their own love story to pay attention to their only daughter. I couldn't hold it against them though if you had something as beautiful as they did, why would you focus on anything else.

I sigh in bitterness as my Mom rambled on about how she met my Dad. Although I had heard the story a billion times, it still made me smile. Then, reminded me how I didn't have that.

My phone started vibrating next to me, I looked at it to find it was my boss calling me. I tilted my head upwards, trying to recall if I had informed her of my visit to my parents' house. I had.

Confused, I picked up the phone, "Y/N, you need to come to the office now. We need you to take over the article Rob Sheffield was supposed to write," my boss's commanding voice instantly hits my ears, making me flinch backwards.

"Wait, what?"

"Rob had an urgent business to attend to and you are the only replacement available." Her voice carried her usual urgency.

"But Rob is a music journalist, I write politics." Her words were rushing past me and it was getting harder for me to keep up.

"Obviously I know that, but as I said you are the only replacement available, everyone else is already working on their pieces. Come to the office and get your assignment. Now." When I was told my boss did not joke around, they were not kidding.

As soon as she hung up, I started packing up my stuff. I explained to my Mom about the situation, her shoulders slumped, I knew she really wanted to spend more time with me, but she sighed, nodding her head in understanding.

Walking into the Rolling Stone's office every day still brought me back to my first day here. When I was a twenty-three-year-old naive girl, with a heart full of determination and a head full of ideas.

The elevator doors opened and my eyes fell upon the old Rolling Stone covers hung from the wall, they looked like gold records in a music studio. I walked down the lobby to the reception and asked Ally if my boss was available.

I knocked at her door, patiently waiting for her to invite me in. Three years later and I was still deathly afraid of her.

"Y/n, you are going to interview Harry Styles. You'll leave for LA tomorrow morning, and meet him first thing after landing, hang out with him a couple days, get to know him, this is going to be the cover story. I know music is not your department but right now I really don't have any other option. Do your research all day today, we'll publish the article in next month's issue. It better be good." She clicked her fingers, pointing them at me and then shooed me away from the entrance of her cabin.

"Harry Styles huh," I walked towards my desk remembering all the late-night dance parties I had with Liv and Ashley during college, blasting all of One direction's hits, discussing fan theories and whatnot.

The familiar pull nay yank brought me back to the present, on my office floor, with my colleagues watching over the all too familiar scene.

A smile graced my lips, at this point I had lost the ability to feel shame. I sat down on my desk and pulled at my thread.

“You will pay for this.”

“I am ready when you are, Lovie.”

How was our relationship ever going to work if I was ready to melt any time he called me that.

I knew he was waiting for me to trip him, but I didn't. I would get him when he wouldn't expect it. Not today sir, not today.

I went to start researching on Harry Styles and preparing my questions for tomorrow. A groan escaped my lips as I slammed my forehead on the table, this was not enough time.

Harry Styles was a multi-millionaire, platinum record selling artist with millions of fans. He was portrayed to be this womaniser, who played with people's hearts. But, the first thing I learnt about him during my research was of his kind heart.

I surfed through countless videos of his interactions with fans, clips from his concerts, conversations with paparazzi and not once did I find him in a bad mood or as someone less than the absolute model of perfection. Everybody had bad days, well everyone but Mr.Styles apparently.

As someone only writing about the people in power; the politicians, the stark deviance from my usual subjects was a well-welcomed change.

He was a part of various charities, always preaching about love and kindness. Honestly, I was a little jealous of how lucky his soulmate was, to have someone like him.

After reading possibly everything I could about Harry, I started working on the questions I would ask him. I was determined to know how he managed to be the way he was. How he remained calm even after constantly being harassed by fans and paps alike; How after all these years, he still didn't let the fame get to his head.

I woke up the next morning feeling weird tingles in my stomach, I wasn't able to determine if it was good or bad. I went about my usual routine trying to ignore the tingly feeling. I read through my questions again, I had formed a sort of admiration for Harry (the singer) and I wasn't going to embarrass myself when it mattered the most.

I checked myself in the mirror one last time, feeling good with the outfit I went for- a tan, high-waisted lace-up jumpsuit. My confident outfit seemed like compensation for the nerves running through my body.

My mind wandered to my soulmate for a second, wondering what he must be up to right now. I looked up at myself in the mirror again and saw the smile on my face. Only for you, partner. I shook my head, picked up my suitcase and left for the airport.

The last thing I wanted to do after a six-hour flight was to meet an international celebrity, but I shrugged, a job was a job.

The deli we were supposed to meet at was a quaint place, the two ladies working there were incredibly sweet. They greeted me with the widest smiles and escorted me to a semi-secluded corner when I told them about the purpose of my visit. They doted about Harry, who I concluded was a regular here, calling him 'my love'.

Harry hadn't arrived yet and I was starving, the fragrance of different foods in the deli wafted to my nose, serving as a constant reminder of my hunger. The ladies whose names I had learnt to be Gloria and Raisa noticed my condition and offered to bring me a sandwich, but I declined the offer, not wanting to order before Harry's arrival, considering it to be a bit rude.

But, ever the saviour Harry entered the deli soon after, I admit I released a long breath in relief, I would finally get to order.

Harry's presence was like a force of nature, no one could escape it. I stood up from my seat, without thinking twice as if something compelled me to honour it. I couldn't pry my eyes away from him, and I didn't want to. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

Every step of his brought him closer to me, the weird tingles I had been feeling all morning intensified, crawling up to every part of my body. I wanted something, anything to help me ground myself.

My hands frantically searched around for my thread, and as soon as my fingers made contact with the string of fate, the familiar calm washed over me.

Maybe in my frantic state, I pulled the string too hard. I winced, almost closing my eyes as Harry's expression changed into one of panic, his eyes widening as he fell forward. I worried about my Harry as well, realising how hard I must have pulled the thread.

Oh.

OH.

I rushed towards Harry, helping him up. When my hand touched his bicep, a warmth started flooding through my veins, locking eyes with him, I knew he was experiencing the same thing as well.

We both looked down towards our hands and a red string was seen connecting our pinkies. We met each other's eyes again.

"Hi," he gave me a toothy grin. I could die a thousand times for his smile.

"Hello," his eyes, a little sunken, were the most beautiful green I had ever seen, I could spend a lifetime getting lost in them.

"Well since I've already fallen for you, how abou' we go out to eat something. Oh wait, we're already here." His chest was out, and his eyes gleamed at his statement, he was weirdly proud of his jokes.

My entire body shook, I didn't know if I was laughing at his ‘Pick up line' or the situation. I was standing in front of my soulmate, whom I've pined after all my life, only for him to turn out to be Harry fucking Styles.

His brows furrowed in concern as I continued laughing, even he realised his joke was not funny enough to prompt this big of a guffaw.

I took a step back, my hands reaching up to rest on the sides of my face, tears were streaming down my face from laughing too much. Harry's contorted face making me laugh louder. I could not stop.

He reached out his hands and wrapped them around mine. I noted how big his hands were compared to mine, warmer too. "Hey, are you okay?"

I nodded my head, taking deep breaths to calm myself. When I seemed to have a hold on my laugh, another round burst from me. I started shaking again.

At this point, Harry had given up on me and started laughing as well. We were garnering unneeded attention but we couldn't stop. I noticed from the corner of my eyes, Gloria and Raisa were hovering around us protectively, not letting anyone come near us. Angels.

After several minutes or hours, we stopped for good. And even though my stomach was hurting like a bitch, my smile couldn't have been wider.

"So, it's you huh," I started, bringing Harry to my table, "My soulmate heh." My palms were getting sweaty, I tried to subtly wipe them on my pants.

He sat across me, reaching out and grabbing my hands in his again. I changed our hand positions, interlocking my fingers with his. The red string between us lengthening and shortening constantly, conforming to our movements.

He nodded, a smile ever-present on his face. He released a small breath, his shoulders slumped slightly, "I've dreamed of this moment for years. It's good to finally meet you, Lovie."

A weird gurgle-like sound left my mouth. My eyes widened as I covered my mouth, horrified and embarrassed at the same time.

He just looked amused, raising his eyebrows as if to ask me what the fuck was that.

"It's just, it keeps hitting me that this moment is real. That you are here in front of me and you are the Harry Styles-" my eyes continued to dart down to the striking red colour of the thread I was so accustomed to not seeing "-But like you are also just Harry, who I've known all my life."

"I get tha', I do," he nodded fervently, "All my life, I pictured a faceless girl when I imagined a life with you. Now everything seems complete, like the final piece of the puzzle has been placed and I can see my life as a whole picture and I see you with me," he then shrugged his shoulders, wanting to be seen nonchalant.

Hearing him reflect on everything that I've been feeling as well, brought tears in my eyes. He noticed my eyes getting glassy,

"Was it too much too soon?" His fingers were slightly tapping on the table, he kept looking down at our joined hands and biting his lips. My eyes fell to his lips, I hadn't noticed how pink they were.

"No, no, not at all," my hold on his hands tightened as I shook my head, trying to ease his nerves as well.

I went silent for a minute, not sure if I should continue before starting to tap a pattern on the table. One I hoped he would get without having to write it down.

“I love you.”

If the smile on his face were to say anything, it was that he got it. Of course, he would.

Our fingers started to tingle, pulling our attention towards them as we watched the red string starting to disappear.

When it seemed to be fully gone, I traced my hand around the table, checking if I could still feel it, I couldn't. It had really gone away.

I knew this would happen, but it didn't make saying goodbye any easier. Harry brought our hands together again, catching my attention again, "I don't need the string any more, I have you in my arms now." He rested his forehead on mine, breathing slowly.

He then brought my hands up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on my knuckles. Causing a soft gasp to leave my lips. I swear he would kill me one day.

"I love you too, Lovie."

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #soulmate au #fluff #harry styles fluff #invisible string #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

1K notes · View notes

levi-ish · 4 years ago

Text

Little Talks | 2

Pairing: Bartender!Levi X Reader

Genre: [+18] Slice of life, drama, romance, fluff, smut

A/N: if you find any mistakes, its because most of the times i’m writing i’m wine drunk or high and watching some weird anime.

Warnings: Alcohol, cheating mentions, drugs, cussing

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Masterlist

“Fuck no, I’d rather eat shit and die” you slapped your hand on the counter and Jean let out a high-pitched laugh, bringing up another shot glass and the good tequila they held only for employees, earning a ‘woo’ from you.

“I’m just suggesting” he gave you your own glass and you both downed it at the same time, letting out the weirdest faces from the burning sensation going through your throat. “If he was a good fuck, why not go and have some hate sex?”

“What the fuck, Jean?!” You gave him a frown, pushing the shot glass forward and leaning on top of your arm, looking up to see your bartender getting hammered like you.

You liked those nights when you were one of the last ones remaining in the bar and Jean would drink with you till you both couldn’t remember your own names, and then flirt aimlessly while drinking some shitty margaritas. Sometimes he would let you mix the alcohol, and you would throw ice at each other.

“I’m just saying—” he grabbed the beer bottle beside him and gave it a sip, passing to you next. “—you told me he was an asshole, and hate sex is the best sex. So why not?!”

“He literally cheated on me!” You spat, shoving Jean’s shoulder while gulping down the remaining of the beer. “Fuck, open another one.”

“It’s all going on your tab, Kirstein” said the hoarse voice from the other side of the counter, attracting both of your eyes there.

Levi was cleaning the remaining dishes, drying the glasses as he adjusted his black apron and gave you another one of his expressionless stares. You had noticed he started to linger around since last week when you two shared a drink. He wasn’t that bad, he was actually kinda nice, you had to admit. Even though he had this dark aura, he was good company for your late evenings.

“Yea, yea, Captain Grumpy-Pants” Jean fanned his hand and grabbed another beer from the minifridge, opening it with his teeth.

“Jean!” You drunkenly leaned your upper body on the countertop, cheeks reddening from the newcomer heat you got from the alcohol.

The raven-haired man just rolled his eyes and disappeared into the back, leaving you two alone with your childish giggles and murmurs.

“I swear, the man is like my grandpa” the bartender said, gulping down the beer and passing it to you. “Why he has been taking late night shifts, I wouldn’t know.”

“What do you mean?” You downed your fair share, coughing a bit from the bitter cold taste.

“He would always leave before 10PM, the latest I’ve seen him around was midnight.” Jean burped and you pushed him jokingly. “I’d say he has a crush on you.”

“W-What?”

You felt your heart thump from the inside of your ears, blushing right away — but you would blame it on the alcohol.

“Nah, just fucking with you. The old man wouldn’t sleep with you, you’re nasty” you shoved him again, harder this time and he let out another laugh. “—besides, he has a stick too far up his own ass to get involved with other people.”

Levi came out from the back, now in his casual clothes, wearing a long-sleeved green shirt and black jeans, his apron folded on his arm as he walked to the counter to put away the now clean glasses. You saw him a few times before coming to work, but it would be just for a split second, so you never noticed how his clothes would hug the well-defined muscles. He didn’t seem like the type to be ripped, so you guessed he did a good job in hiding it.

“Hold up” the other bartender held a hand to his stomach, his eyes widening as his expression changed into a pained one. “Yup. Definitely going to puke.”

He rushed to the back, leaving only you and Levi on the counter. The soft country song played in the old jukebox as you laid on the counter once more, watching the shorter man as his hands worked on the clean glasses. You could see the veins that traced back to his arms as his fingers moved quickly, the image now stuck in your mind as you wondered how those palms would feel against your throat, how warm would his breath feel fanning on your face, how…

“You look like shit” he said, startling you to the point you almost fell off the stool. What the fuck?

“You don’t look so good either” you bit back now frowning at him.

Levi grabbed one of the glasses and filled it with tap water, putting it right in front of you. You stared at him, confused as he just let out a ‘tch’ and grabbed a handkerchief to dry his hands.

“Sober up.” He commanded, his tone now lower, making something stir inside your belly.

“I don’t feel like sobering up” you retorted, grabbing the glass anyways. “The night is young.”

“It’s 4AM” he rose a brow, staring at you once more. “The bar closed two hours ago.”

You rolled your eyes, gulping down to the last drop and laid your head between your crossed arms above the counter. “Jean and I are celebrating.”

“What exactly?”

“Another Friday!” You gave him a sloppy smile and let out a yawn, earning a concerned look.

The creaky door from the back room opened suddenly, and a stumbly Jean came into the bar, grogginess all over his face while Levi crossed his arms over his — dare you say, very muscly — chest.

“Well, that went bad” the taller man burped and leaned onto the counter like you were, letting out a defeated groan as he did.

“You’re such a lightweight” you joked, and the man groaned once more.

“Fuck off. I’ve been through a lot.”

Levi turned around suddenly, another disappointed ‘tch’ coming out of his mouth as he signaled the backdoor.

“C’mon. I’m taking you two home.”

You and Jean exchanged a look before bursting into laughter, leaving the poor man confused but not short of apathy on his face.

“Sorry shorty” Jean stood straight and put a finger under his chin, “you’re not my type.”

At that point, Levi was pretty much done with both of you as you laughed thoroughly. He slapped Jean’s shoulder and grabbed his wrist, walking to the other side of the counter and grabbing yours also and dragging your drunken bodies to the back entrance. You and the blonde boy were giggling under your breath, thinking the older man wouldn’t notice at all, and he just pretended not to, too tired to deal with that shit.

“Are we having a threesome?!” Jean tripped on his feet, following the other man as he coughed a bit. “Threesome! Threesome! Threesome!”

“Hey! I don’t wanna fuck Jean!” You threw him a disgusted gaze as you tried to keep your distance.

“You just wanna fuck shorty. He’s boooring.”

You pushed Jean and laughed as he stumbled again, almost falling this time.

Levi rolled his eyes as he dragged you two out of the bar, turning off the lights and locking the door behind you, now letting go of your wrists. You looked around to find the streets empty and the starry sky above you. Everything was quiet, the way you enjoyed your nights, and only two cars were parked, a black BMW and a white sedan you recognized as Jean’s from the times he took you home when you were too drunk. So the other one must’ve belonged to Levi.

“Yo, Y/N, I think it’s not a threesome anymore” Jean leaned in and tried to whisper, but his voice was high enough for Levi to hear “, I’m pretty sure we are getting kidnapped.”

“Shut up, Jean” you rolled eyes at him as you watched the raven-haired man unlock the car and shoved the other one in.

You were standing on his side when he gave you a slight gaze, signaling the inside of the car as you nodded, putting your hand on the top of the door to steady yourself, but as you put one foot inside, your hand slipped, and you were going for a face-in fall.

It was going to be your most disgraceful moment. You had awful times when you fell while drunk — like that one time when you fell from a bridge, diving into the dirty lake near Mikasa’s house and everyone took pictures, making it the icon of your groupchat for months before changing into a picture of Sasha sleeping while hugging a bag of potatoes — but this time, you were going to fall in front of someone you actually fancied, the first person you showed any kind of interest since the fiasco with your ex. It had been almost two months.

A pair of strong hands held your shoulders as your own grabbed the collar of his shirt for stability, holding onto his chest for dear life. You could feel the warmth of his body against your cold fingertips, now daring to look up to find his eyes staring right into your soul. His mouth was slightly parted, just enough for you to fawn over and have a thousand scenarios going through your mind.

Oh, how you wanted him to just cup your face and close the gap…

Wait, what are you thinking?

A loud snore came from the car, bringing your attention to a sleeping Jean who was splayed all over the backseat, a trail of drool falling off his lips as his feet twitched.

Levi straightened you in place, clearing his throat as he offered you one hand.

“Careful” he whispered as you kept on staring, only to shake your head, dropping out of the state of trance you found yourself in.

You looked down as the man helped you inside, not even daring to meet his gaze after that moment, still feeling your cheeks hotter than your pounding heart. Levi’s hands adjusted the seatbelt around your body, and you tried not to think too much about it as you kept looking forward.

“Don’t throw up” he ordered and you groaned, rolling your eyes as he closed the door.

Watching as the man turned around, you waited until he sat inside and started the car, now feeling dizzier than before to just lean your head on the window, watching as the sky slowly turned into orange, signaling the morning was just around the corner. Suddenly, your lids felt heavier than stone and you started to doze off, the sky now turning black as you closed your eyes. Just for a second.

You weren’t aware, but Levi kept his gaze on you from the corner of his eye, feeling too intrusive to stare any longer, but too weak to look away. To the naked eye, it was impossible to see, but the sides of his lips curled upwards in a small — almost inexistent — smile.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi #levi smut #jean kirschstein #jean #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #hange zoë #erwin smith #bartender levi #hmmm threesomes

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ah-ga-seven · 4 years ago

Text

Till’ The End of Summer - Chapter 2

>> series masterlist <<

Pairing: Choi Yeonjun x Reader

In a Nutshell: College!AU, Rich Kids, Friends to Lovers, Fuckboy athlete Yeonjun, Overprotective Best friend Soobin, contains all of TXT and other Idol cameos, Omnipresent perspective.

Synopsis: You and Yeonjun are caught up in a cat and mouse game because of unspoken feelings and endless pining for each others’ attention. With the summer break approaching and lots of college parties, will you finally get a chance to explore your feelings for each other; even though the world and Yeonjun’s reputation makes things complicated?

Word count: 7.2K

Genre: Angst, Fluff.

Cameos: NCT Johnny, Ateez Wooyoung, ITZY Ryujin & Yeji.

Warnings: Heavy drinking, sexual implications, arguing and conflict.

A/N: English isn’t my first language, pls don’t come for me ;)

“Dang,” Soobin exclaims as you get in the car. He turns around to check out your attire, make-up and jewelry.

You chuckle crossing your legs and posing for them dramatically. “How you like that?”

Mia looked at you with proud eyes as she nods checking you out. “I approve,” she practically yells. She probably already had a few shots at home before she left judging by her enthusiasm.

“I don’t,” Soobin raises his eyebrows and Mia rolls her eyes at him. “Ok grandpa, how about we just get going.”

Soobin pouts at Mia’s comment and in order to calm him down she gives him a quick peck on the lips.

You smiled at the two of them, hoping that one day you get to have what they have.

The remainder of the car ride was filled with laughter. You guys were singing, or should you say, screaming along to the music that was blaring through the speakers. The time practically flew by and before you knew it, the three of you had arrived at the entrance of the huge rustic looking frat house.

You had never been here before, and you were amazed to say the least. Your jaw dropped in awe of the size of the house. It was like a damn villa.

Sometimes you forget that 90% of the people at your school are rich brats who only got into this college because of their parents’ hefty wallets. You forget because you on the other hand, actually worked your ass off to get where you are without being an athlete or curing cancer in your spare time.

It suddenly made you think of Yeonjun again, about how little you actually knew of him. How did he get into this school? Was he already here? Who did he come with?

Soobin snaps you out of your daydream as he opens the car door for you. “The escort service is on the second floor,” he jokes helping you get out of the car.

You slap him on his chest but take his hand anyway. You’re used to his low key protective behaviour by now, so nothing really bothers you anymore. “Keep those snarky comments coming boy, I still have your whole embarrassing childhood to expose to your lovely girlfriend,” you say as the three of you start walking to the front door.

Soobin just shoots you a glare as he instinctively wraps an arm around Mia’s waist. “Don’t you dare,” he says pouting, making you and Mia laugh in response.

The door opens with a dramatic swing and a tall, handsome-looking dude with sharp features greeted you with the warmest smile ever. It made you giddy inside, and you cursed at yourself for how easily impressed you are by any type of tall man.

You could hear the loud music and feel the base send vibrations through your spine. You looked past his tall figure and noticed how the house was packed with people already.

“Sooooob, what's up my man,” he exclaims pulling him in for a bro-hug, Soobin smiled at Johnny fondly. “This is my girlfriend Mia, and this is y/n, my best friend” he explains, introducing both of you.

“His single, best friend,” Mia chimed in giggling.

Your eyes grow wide and you slap Mia’s arm in response. “Don’t mind her. She has the alcohol tolerance of an underweight toddler,” you joke apologetically, which earned loud laughter from the tall guy who was dressed in white jeans accompanied with a loosely hanging Hawaiian blouse which was almost completely unbuttoned. Classic.

“Well, it’s a pleasure. I’m Johnny, feel free to make yourself at home. The booz and snacks are in the kitchen,” he said smirking, obviously checking you out from head to toe. “Come in,” he stepped aside so the three of you could walk in. You had to admit. He was charming. But as soon as your eyes landed on Yeonjun sitting on the couch with Beomgyu, Hueningkai and Taehyun next to him, you completely forgot about Johnny’s existence.

He looked absolutely ravishing. When he wasn’t wearing baggy sweatshirts and sweatpants he actually had an incredible fashion sense.

He was wearing a satin black button-up blouse that loosely hugged his figure, paired with dark denim jeans. He had his signature hoop earrings in, while also wearing a chained LV necklace and bracelet to go with it. You forgot to breathe for a second, and your eyes meet for the first time that night.

His eyes were looking around the room before his gaze lingered on your figure. His mouth fell agape slightly. And he swallowed harshly looking at your attire. “Damn,” he says under his breath. It was inaudible to you but you could tell what he was saying.

You silently take the win and smile at him knowingly.

You hadn’t even realised yet how nicely the house was decorated and just how crowded the place was. Your eyes reluctantly leave Yeonjun’s dark orbs to look around the living room and quickly noticed that Soobin and Mia had already abandoned you to get drinks. How nice of them.

You awkwardly look around and make your way to your friends, who were all sitting on the same couch, not noticing how most of the people there were staring at you as you made your way through the crowd.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” You joke as you give Hueningkai a nudge on the shoulder.

He scoffed in response. “You need to stop babying me,” you gasp, mocking him. “Never.”

He just smiled at you, giving you a quick hug. “It’s good to see you,” he hums into the hug, and you smile at him as you let go.

“Wow y/n you look incredible,” Beomgyu says smiling up at you, Taehyun nods in agreement giving you a warm smile as well. “Total bad bitch,” Taehyun adds giving you a thumbs up.

“Thanks,” you chuckle, absentmindedly looking around for a place to sit.

Beomgyu noticed and got up so you could sit down instead of him, as there was no place left on the couch. Instead, he sat down on Yeonjun’s lap, who still hadn’t said a word to you since you walked in. For a quick second, you wish it was you on his lap, but then you notice that all he does is stare at you. Given the fact that you were feeling yourself tonight, you just stare back at him, which made him smirk in response. He licked his lips, ready to break the silence before Johnny appears in front of you with two red cups in his hands.

“For the lady,” he says handing one of the cups to you.

You look up in surprise, giving him a friendly smile as you accept the cup. “Thank you, that’s really thoughtful,” you say a little too flirty and you instantly curse at yourself for not having control over your tone of voice; even though you’re completely sober. You take a sip, realising it’s your favourite. It made you look up at Johnny and he just smirked at you knowingly.

“Thanks…” you say taking another sip, giving Johnny a smile that he could think about for the rest of the night.

You could feel Yeonjun’s eyes bore in to the back of your head. He was paying attention and what you would do next would determine the tone you had set for that night. So you knew you had to escape.

“I’m gonna look for Mia, I remember I had to tell her something, If you could just excuse me for a second,” you said apologetically getting up. You pull your dress down a little trying not to expose your ass cheeks.

“That’s okay, the night is still young,” Johnny smiled at you brightly. It wasn’t the creepy type of smile or comment though. The tone in his voice was overbearingly friendly. His aura made you want to get closer to him. As friends though.

You smile at him and walk off, making your way through the way too large house looking for your friend.

You finally find her and Soobin in the kitchen with a bunch of other people. You recognise a few of them, but you couldn’t be bothered enough to greet them first as you grab a hold of Mia’ arm.

“Oh hey, y/n! They have jello shots. Look!” She wiggles the shot in front of you and you could tell she had at least 5 of them already.

“Bitch, fuck your jello, I’m not off to a great start,” you say whining.

Soobin turns around, suddenly interested when he sensed the desperate tone in your voice. He was eating some type of chocolate pudding.

He smacked his lips a couple of times before he decided to chime in. “What do you mean?”

You ignore Soobin and focus on Mia only. “I could tell he wanted to say something, but then Johnny appeared in front of me like I was in some type of Disney movie. It’s like the guy is glowing?” You say animatedly wiggling your fingers around to mimic sparks flying to make Mia’s drunken state understand better.

“Johnny is a great guy,” Soobin states butting into the conversation. “He’s into you, just date him.”

Mia just giggled, nothing was registering to her. Fuck. She was drunk. Too drunk to give you rational advice.

“Jesus Soobin, how do you even know that?”

“Because he came over here and asked us what your favourite drink was. He’s trying to impress you, so I just gave him a little nudge in the right direction. And like I said, he’s a great guy. Date him.”

You roll your eyes at his pushiness. You don’t know what it is, but the more Soobin tries to push you into one direction, the more you don’t want to follow. It’s like you’re a defiant teenager while he’s the parent. It made you want to act out even more. It’s childish, you know that. But the fact that he even played matchmaker between you and Johnny was doing the most.

“I saw you cozying up to Yeonjun today at the park you know.”

“Oh did you now,” you roll your eyes at him.

“Damn it y/n,” Soobin took a step closer to you. He was getting mad and you could tell. Mia turned to her boyfriend giving him a warning look.

“I’m trying to befriend him. I literally had my legs draped over Beomgyu’s and you don’t bat an eye, but I can’t even talk to Yeonjun before you jump to all of these conclusions!?” You were raising your voice at him to get your point across but Soobin wasn’t having it.

“You didn’t admit your feelings for Beomgyu to me now did you,” he bites back at you.

“You’re being so fucking annoying right now, I told you not to worry about it,” you yell back at him, making Mia flinch in the process.

“What’s going on here?”

His voice startles you and you feel his hand on your shoulder.

You look up and see Yeonjun standing by your side, almost protectively standing between you and Soobin.

“Oh hey,” Soobin said, calming down at the sight of his friend.

“So much for a fun night,” Mia pouted, tugging at Soobin’s fingers.

Soobin just blinked a couple of times, apologetically looking into his girlfriends’ eyes. He tried to look you in the eye as well but you avoid his gaze.

“Nothing,” you say stoically. “I was just about to leave.”

Yeonjun’s eyes grew big. “Leave? You just got here all of five minutes ago?”

You sigh. “I meant, leave the kitchen,” you say waving your arms around.

Yeonjun didn’t quite understand what was going on, but he could tell that you were tense. He contemplated asking about it one more time because he was curious. But decided against it, not wanting to push you over the edge.

Instead, he nudged your shoulder. “Wanna go take a walk?” he asked giving you a hopeful look.

You visibly relax at his request, your heart skipped another beat and you just nod at him in response.

“I-” Soobin starts, but he doesn’t finish his sentence. He knew he was going overboard with it. And if he pushed another one of your buttons, you might just swing at him for real this time. He figured he just had to trust your judgment for once. Even though he knows of your terrible track record of dating incompetent men.

You send him a glare before boldly taking Yeonjun by his hand and leading him out of the kitchen with you.

You sigh in relief as fresh air fills your lungs when you step outside. The temperature had dropped so much since this afternoon. A shiver ran down your spine and Yeonjun noticed.

He turned to you. “Wait here ok,” he said confusing you as he ran off.

Did he just leave you out here? Alone? What the fuck.

Not even 15 seconds later he returns with a leather jacket. He ran up to you and covered you with it.

You stare at him in silence. Dumbfounded by his chivalry. You couldn’t help but blush, and you curse at yourself as you do so.

“T-thanks,” you say fixing your hair.

“It’s nothing, I realised I had the jacket in the trunk of my car,” he says giving you a warm smile.

God damn it. You melt once again. He’s making it too hard for you to stay away. But why would you?

He hasn’t given you a reason to. Nor did he give you any red flags. The whole’ he’s a fuckboy and doesn’t want a relationship’ story didn’t add up.

“Are you okay?” Yeonjun asked cautiously, trying not to tick you off.

You shrug absentmindedly. “Soobin is just getting on my nerves.”

He nods, noticing how he should probably drop the topic, but he decides against it.

“You know. He talks about you so much. About your adventures from your childhood, the trips you took together, everything. I can tell he loves you a lot. I don’t know what your fight was about but I don’t think you should be too mad at him. He’s just trying to look out for you,” Yeonjun says carefully. He knows he’s overstepping a little bit, but he doesn’t care. He hates to see Soobin upset, so he’d try his best to meddle between you two.

Oh Yeonjun. If only he knew that the fight was about him. And here he is, sticking up for Soobin even though he is trying to make Yeonjun out to be the asshole.

“Also, I am just starting to get to know you more and more. Soobin is our only connection, if you two fight, then when will I be able to see you hmm?” He says chuckling.

Wow, okay. His flirty self is back again.

You laugh at the cute shift in his personality. “Don’t worry, I’ll pencil you into my busy schedule if you’d like.”

Yeonjun throws his head back in laughter. “When Soobin talks about you, he makes you seem so chill and funny, it made me want to get to know you better. But now that I’m with you all you seem to do is flirt with everyone.”

You stop in your tracks giving him a look of confusion, but you can’t help but laugh. “Flirt? With everyone? Who’s everyone?”

“Johnny,” Yeonjun says shrugging. “And Beomgyu, in the park…and well…Me.”

You nearly choke on air. “You’re kidding? Right? I didn’t flirt with Johnny nor Beomgyu, Also Beomgyu is like a little brother. That’s gross,” you laugh nervously.

Yeonjun just stares at you and starts to smirk again. “So you don’t deny flirting with me?”

Your eyes grow big at his observation. Shit. You really exposed yourself like that. “Well…I eh…” you stammer. You just singlehandedly boosted his ego with one sentence. He developed a child-like grin on his face as realisation hit him.

Yeonjun took a step closer to you. “You…what?” he’s getting cocky now.

His face was inching closer and closer to you by the second. He looked at your flustered facial expression as he crouched down a little to get to eye-level with you. When he sees the fear in your eyes he burst out laughing.

You look at him in shock and he inches away from you again. “I’m just playing with you. You should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“Dick,” you exhale.

“Dick!?” he repeats all fake defensive, poking your side.

“That’s the only pet name you’re getting if you keep playing with me,” you giggle as he poked your ticklish spot, and you swat his hand away playfully as you continue to walk down the street filled with massive villa’s.

“I prefer da- never mind,” he stops himself immediately.

You nudge him laughing hysterically. Not believing he was about to say that. You take a mental note, hoping you would need it in the future.

Being with Yeonjun was easy, it felt like breathing. He was able to switch your mood in all of 2 seconds and you’re thankful for that. You genuinely thought your night went to shit.

Before you knew it, the two of you walked around the whole block. You talked about anything and everything and there is so much you had learned about him in such a short time.

He was an only child, he took dance classes since he was little and still practices from time to time, he loves to travel, especially to warm and tropical countries. He��s not a picky eater but can’t handle fishy flavoured foods like oysters. He is passionate and competitive, oh and his favourite dog breed is the Welsh Corgi.

You were surprised at how easy it was to talk to him since he always seemed so distant and unreachable. But you figured he was just shy because, in reality, he was the biggest sweetheart. Maybe that’s his charm? Girls pine after him because he seems like a bad boy, but when he lets his walls down, he’s the complete opposite.

“Wait, so…you’re telling me that Soobin got a sports scholarship and you got one because of your grades alone?” Yeonjun asks wide-eyed.

You nod. “Yep, total nerd over here,” you huff. “So…that means you’re like smart, smart?” Yeonjun asks while holding you back before the two of you cross the street to check if there weren’t any cars coming your way.

The sudden skinship startled you a little as he held you back by your arm before he decided it was ok to cross the road, back to the house. His manners were dumbfounding, and you could tell he wasn’t even trying. It’s just the way he is. Always looking out for others before he looks out for himself.

“I mean…it’s nothing special,” you say lost in thought. you were getting kind of sad as you approached the house, knowing that your quality time would soon be over because of his immense popularity. Once you got inside you knew that everyone would want something from him again.

“That’s cool y/n, you really earned it,” he gives you a warm smile before the both of you enter the house again. You reciprocate his smile, feeling warm inside at his compliment.

You take off his jacket, handing it back to him but he shakes his head in response. “Keep it with you for the night. Just in case,” he says wrapping it back around your shoulders. “Besides, I don’t think I’m ok with the fact that every dude can just gauge at you in that outfit” he swallows harshly.

You meet his eyes confused at his comment, but he doesn’t budge. “You’re lucky it goes with my outfit,” you giggle. The sound made his heart jump and his lips curl up into a smile. “Even if it didn’t. I’m sure you look good in a potato sack y/n,” he compliments you once again, moving a piece of your hair behind your ear so he could see your pretty features a little better.

His actions and words were laced with affection. And not once had he tried to make a real move on you yet. You weren’t sure if you were happy or sad that he didn’t. But the more he showed this side of him to you, the more you felt the butterflies in your stomach go crazy.

“Yo Jun!” Another tall guy with long black hair yelled out for Yeonjun’s attention. Making both of you snap out of your bubble as he approached. “We’ve been looking for you man; we need the king of beer pong in our team, alright?”

Yeonjun chuckled. “Wooyoung, chill. I’ll be right there,” he patted his friend on the back to signal him to leave the two of you, but he didn’t seem to get the hint.

“Oh, who’s this?” He questioned giving you a smirk while holding out his hand for you to shake.

You took his hand, weakly shaking it as you introduce yourself. “I’m y/n,” you smile.

“Well hello y/n, can I just say, you look very pretty,” Wooyoung winked at you and you awkwardly smiled back. Damn these horny and drunk college boys really do be something else.

“Ok. I think that’s as far as that introduction goes,” Yeonjun says chiming in. “How about that game you were talking about?” he diverts his attention to Wooyoung, but gives you a last look before he walks off.

“You coming?” Yeonjun asks holding out his hand for you. But you just shake your head in response.

Given the crowd that had formed around the beer pong table, you decided against it. You didn’t like to be the center of attention, but you knew Yeonjun did. When you were with him you could feel so many eyes on you, but he didn’t seem to care or notice.

“I’ll be fine, just go,” you say shooing him away playfully. He nodded, taking one last glance at you before he disappeared. It didn’t take long before he was completely engulfed in the game. You just stood there, watching him from a distance. He really was the MVP. Everyone was cheering for him as he kept making shot after shot. And of course, you noticed the females around him as well. He’s thriving off the energy and you don’t know why but it made you sad since you were pulled back to face the reality of things.

He’s just out of your league.

Suddenly your mind flashes back to what Mia told you this afternoon.

“The problem is that a lot of girls have eyes for him too and that can become a problem. The issue is if YOU can handle that.”

Can you handle that? You sigh turning around, wanting to find either of your friends but you couldn’t get far as you bump into a wall of a person.

“Oh, sorry,” you say looking up. It was Johnny.

“Hey,” he smiled at you. “All by yourself out here?” He asked chuckling.

“Well, yes. Every time I blink my friends keep disappearing from my sight because this house is just too huge,” you say looking around you, trying to spot any of them.

Johnny laughed at your comment. “Do you want to see the rest of the house? I can give you a tour if you want? There are three floors. And we even have our own gym,” he said proudly.

“Your own gym? What the hell. Now that, I want to see,” you say intrigued.

Rich kids really are something else.

Johnny laughed at your sudden enthusiasm and put an arm around your shoulder as he led you upstairs.

Before you reach the top of the stairs, you see Beomgyu, talking to Ryujin, a girl from his class that you were also friendly with.

“Oh hey, y/n, where are you going?” Beomgyu asks, his big eyes darting from you to Johnny. He squinted his eyes at the sight of Johnny having his arm around your shoulder.

“I’m getting a house tour. Did you know they have a gym?” You say with your mouth agape.

Ryujin chuckled. “Wait till you see the sauna.”

“Sauna!?” You repeat in awe.

“Oh yeah, that’s on the third floor. We’ll get there,” Johnny smiles at you innocently and leads you further into the second floor opening the first door on your left. “This is Jaehyun and Jungwoo’s room. It’s kinda messy.”

Beomgyu watched the two of you like a hawk. He heard you laugh at every joke Johnny threw your way. But the further you went into the hallway, the more your voice became white noise.

“Ryujin, I’m really sorry but I have to find my hyungs,” Beomgyu says apologetically diverting his attention back to her.

“That’s ok, I was just about to get back to Lia en Yeji anyway,” she smiled at him knowingly. He was going to warn his friends about you disappearing into the rooms with Johnny, and she knew it.

“Raincheck?” Beomgyu carefully asks, taking Ryujin’s hand. She smiled at him brightly. “Of course.”

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and ran down the stairs making his way through the crowd.

Mia, Soobin, Hueningkai and Taehyun were sitting on the same couch from before. “Soobin hyung!” Beomgyu exclaims slightly out of breath.

Soobin looked up from his phone, Mia was situated on his lap, nearly passed out from the jello shots and Kai and Taehyun were lost in conversation with her. “What's up?” he asks putting his phone away.

“Johnny took y/n on the house tour.”

“….She knows that tour always ends in his room right?” Taehyun chimed in. “She can be so naïve sometimes,” he says clicking his tongue.

Hueningkai’s eyes grew big. “Eh, should we…save her?”

“Save her? For what. She went with Johnny herself, she’s an adult. Why would we interrupt them?” Soobin coldly states, obviously still angry with you. Mia rolled her eyes at her boyfriend, still too drunk to really judge the situation, her head falls back on his shoulder as she giggles.

Beomgyu raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Soobin would rather die than let a guy take advantage of you, so his sudden attitude towards the situation surprised him.

“Y/n is with Johnny? Upstairs?” Yeonjun overheard the conversation as he approached.

He was confused, to say the least. He thought the two of you had something going, especially after the walk you took together just minutes ago. He looked down, visibly upset.

“Yeah, I saw them…” Beomgyu says scratching the back of his head.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I feel uncomfortable about it,” Hueningkai says shrugging.

“Me too,” Yeonjun says under his breath, earning a look from Soobin. “Why, did you want to fuck her first?” Soobin says, his voice laced with venom looking straight into Yeonjun’s eyes.

“What?” Yeonjun's eyes grew big as he looked at his friend in confusion. “What the fuck are you talking about?” Yeonjun bites back taking a step towards Soobin.

The younger ones all shifted uncomfortably in their seats. But Beomgyu knew better than to let this escalate.

“Guys, stop,” he said putting himself between Soobin and Yeonjun. “Are we gonna go up there or no? Time is ticking,” Beomgyu asked indifferently.

“I know I sure as hell am,” Yeonjun says tearing his eyes off of Soobin’s burning look, heading for the stairs without thinking twice.

Beomgyu panicked and ran after him, while Taehyun and Hueningkai shifted their attention to Soobin.

“Hyung, what was that about? Why did you come for Yeonjun’s throat like that?” Taehyun asks.

“Y-yeah, everything was fine this afternoon, I don’t get it,” Hueningkai adds.

Soobin sighed, placing Mia next to him on the couch and off of his lap. “I’ll tell you some other time. Look after Mia for me. I’m going to go after them.”

The younger ones just nodded at Soobin as he left, sprinting up the stairs two steps at a time.

Johnny was the biggest clown you had ever met. He pretended as if you were an interested buyer as he was showing you around. Cracking joke after joke. He had opened at least 3 doors to rooms where people were either making out or doing the dirty. And every time he did he looked so flustered it was adorable.

“I’m gonna need them to put a sign on the door or something,” he says scratching the back of his head.

You laugh at his comment and you realise you finally made it to the infamous gym-room.

“There better not be any people having sex in here right now or else I’m going to throw up,” Johnny says opening the door carefully. He peaks his head through and sighs in relief. “Ok. It’s safe for us to go in,” he whispers opening the door for you, letting you walk in first. You giggle again at his comedic antics and you step inside. Your eyes skim the place and you swallow harshly.

“Damn,” you say in awe of what you were seeing. “This room is as big as my whole apartment.”

“And it looks better than the campus gym,” you say letting your hand graze over the fancy equipment.

“It is, isn’t it,” Johnny says sitting down on one of the benches. “So…” he starts.

You turn around and look at him. There’s a sudden tension that filled the room since you were secluded and the music from the party was barely audible. You were waiting for him to finish that sentence, looking at him expectantly.

“You’re dating Yeonjun?” he asks out of the blue.

You almost choke on air, coughing, widening your eyes at his sudden assumption.

“N-no, why?” you ask. “Does it seem that way?”

Johnny chuckled at how flustered you got and leaned back, making himself comfortable on the benchpress. “Nah, I just noticed the two of you walking outside together, and when you got back, he wrapped his jacket around you and stuff. It was very cute. Also, he glared at me when I gave you the drink. I swear Soobin told me you were single,” Johnny says putting his hands up in defeat.

“He glared at you?” You blink a couple of times, letting his observations register and sigh. “It’s complicated,” you say.

“Ahh, it’s one of those huh?” He smiles at you knowingly.

You just nod. Not really knowing what else to say. “Well, if you ever get bored of him. You know where I live,” he says wiggling his eyebrows and you laugh at his bluntness.

At that, the door swings open. The sudden bang of the door making impact with the wall made you jump and you knock over one of the dumbbells in the process which caused a loud thud as it made contact with the wooden floor.

The first one you see is Soobin, which made your blood boil. The second is Beomgyu, which made you realise that he’s probably the reason why Soobin is even standing here right now. But then you see Yeonjun’s face, making your eyes nearly pop out of your skull and suddenly, all the anger in your body subsides.

“What the f-” you can’t finish your sentence before Johnny cocks his eyebrow at the three musketeers standing in the doorway of HIS gym room. “Eh, hey guys?” He says a little confused at the way they barged in.

‘Ah, y/n. W-we were looking for you,” Beomgyu starts.

“Having fun here?” Yeonjun says crossing his arms. He looked upset. And he wasn’t hiding it.

The temperature in the room dropped below zero due to his tone alone. Shit. He’s mad.

“Oh…guys, guys. Please don’t get the wrong idea here. Y/n was curious about the gym room since I mentioned it. I was just showing her around. Besides she was standing out there all by herself,” Johnny explained lightly.

Soobin sighed closing his eyes. “Ok so, Johnny. This might sound unbelievable since this is your house and all. But could you maybe like…give us the room…please.”

You just stand there frozen in the same spot as Yeonjun’s eyes are still peering into yours. You were trying to read his facial expression, but you couldn’t. If only you could read minds.

“You’re right. That does sound unbelievable. But I get it” Johnny chuckles shrugging.

“Just don’t break anything,” he jokes as he got up. You gave him an apologetic look and he just winked at you, signing to you not to worry about it too much.

You’re lucky that he’s so chill. Otherwise, this could have ended a lot differently.

When the door closed, the loud music from the ongoing party was muted again. Silence engulfed the room which made the atmosphere so much tenser than it was before. For some reason, your heart was pounding uncontrollably fast. You didn’t know whether to be sorry or angry or why they even barged in the way they did.

“Guys,” you start, exhaling. “I’m…lost? What’s going on?” You ask crossing your arms.

Yeonjun leaned against the wall, biting the inside of his cheek nervously. You didn’t do anything wrong, or did you? He expected to see a different image, maybe you on top of Johnny or vice versa. But it wasn’t anything like that. He didn’t understand why he felt so angry. He should’ve just taken you with him to the damn beer pong table, but the fact that you didn’t want to, confused him. Were you just playing him? Did you enjoy having him in the palm of his hands like that just to drop him? All of these thoughts were circling his mind, but he wasn’t man enough to voice them. He hated how hard you were to read. He hated how you had him in the palm of his hand like that. It was a foreign feeling to him.

What are you doing to him? He swore he was ready to fuck Johnny up if he was touching you in any way. But why? Why did the thought alone bother him so much?

Soobin sighs, awkwardly shifting his weight from his left leg to his right leg, looking at Beomgyu giving him a sign to speak.

“Eh…I saw you going up with Johnny and I thought he was somehow going to take advantage of you…so I told Soobin hyung and here we are,” he shrugged, fumbling with his fingers trying to avoid your burning stare. “I’m really sorry y/n. I was just worried,” Beomgyu explains.

You close your eyes for a second, letting it sink in. “I…appreciate the concern. But you know and especially Soobin knows, I’m not the type for one night stands. Especially with someone I just met all of two minutes ago….and also…not surrounded by exercise equipment,” you say waving your arm around at the room’s surroundings.

“We’re sorry for jumping to conclusions,” Yeonjun suddenly said, breaking the silence. “It was wrong of us to interfere. We had no right to do so. It won’t happen again. Even if you were to mess around with Johnny it’s none of my…I mean our business.”

Before you could say anything, Yeonjun had walked out of the room, leaving you speechless and confused. You wanted to run after him but you decided against that since it didn’t make sense to do so. Nothing made sense to you at the moment.

What would you even be running after?

A million different questions circle your mind as you’re trying to understand why he looked so incredibly pissed at you.

Did you mess up? Did you blow your only chance to get close to Yeonjun for good? You can’t really comprehend what just happened, but sadness washes over you as you stare at the spot where Yeonjun was standing just seconds ago.

Soobin’s eyes followed Yeonjun out the door and then his focus shifts to you. He noticed that you were upset and his harsh demeanor softens at the sight. “Beomgyu, can you go check on him?” Soobin asked softly still looking at you with worry emitting from his pupils.

The younger one nodded and walked out the door, confused as ever.

As the door closed behind Beomgyu, you break. You put your hands over your eyes and a small sob escapes your lips.

You really don’t know why you were crying, but at the same time, you do.

You unintentionally blew the one chance you had with the guy you’ve had a crush one for over a year now and you didn’t know how to fix it. Because honestly, all of your feelings were unspoken, and before today you didn’t even realise you stood an actual chance with him.

But given the way he reacted to finding you with Johnny, you just knew that he had felt the same way about you too. With an emphasis on the word ‘felt.’

On top of this, the frustration and pent up anger you had towards Soobin made you even more emotional. You hated fighting with him more than anything, especially if he is the one that’s right.

Soobin’s face literally crumbled at the sight. He’d probably seen you cry all of 5 times during your life long friendship, so he panicked.

He walked towards you, bending his knees to get to eye-level with you. He tried to remove your hands from your face but since you didn’t budge – because you were embarrassed – he just pulled you into his arms, patting your hair.

“Shhh, w-why are you crying…please stop, or I’ll start crying too,” he sighs into your hair, still patting your head to comfort you.

You remove your hands from your face and look up, trying to sniff your tears back into your head.

“Soobin I-” you look at him not able to finish your sentence as more tears escaped from your eyes.

He inhaled sharply. “It’s ok, it’s ok. Take your time just please stop crying, you don’t need to explain right away,” he says quickly wiping your tears with the long sleeve of his shirt.

“No, I do,” you sigh untangling yourself from his embrace. You shake off your bitch ass behaviour and collect yourself, taking deep breaths as you fix your face in the mirrored wall behind you.

Soobin watched you like a hawk, afraid you would suddenly start crying again.

You sit down on the bench press and rake your hands through your hair.

“Look, first off I need to apologise to you,” you said calmly.

Soobin head snapped in your direction as you spoke. He walked over to you and sat down next to you on the way too small bench.

“You? Apologise?” he nudges you playfully trying to lighten the mood. “That’s new.”

You chuckle at his statement and sigh. “I don’t know why I was so mad at you. You were just looking out for me and I broke a promise I made to you by going after Yeonjun anyway and I’m sorry.”

Soobin frowns, blinking a couple of times.

“Y/n. I can’t tell you who to date. I certainly can’t tell you who you should and shouldn’t have feelings for. It was wrong of me to push you into a direction you didn’t want to go in, but-”

“No,” you interrupt him, looking him in his eyes. “I get it. I do. It’s just that…the whole ‘Yeonjun just wants to fuck’ story doesn’t add up? He was so sweet. We have a lot in common, and I could tell he genuinely cared. He didn’t try to get in my pants ONCE, he didn’t even try to kiss me when we were alone together. He was just interested in me, as a person. Not as…some lust object,” you explain to your best ability.

Soobin sighed, letter your words register. “I have to admit; I’ve never seen him so worked up over a girl before.”

You raise your eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that…he was upset y/n. He didn’t like seeing you with Johnny. When Beomgyu told me you went up with Johnny, you should’ve seen him. He overheard and immediately sprinted upstairs. I think he might really like you. Meaning that I was wrong. But you never know with him. It’s like he doesn’t want anyone to get close to him like that,” Soobin says rubbing his forehead. His head was pounding just thinking of the whole situation leading up to this very moment.

“Well, I just blew any chance I had with him,” you say playing with the rings on your fingers.

“Not necessarily, I mean. It’s not like we caught you in the act or something. Nothing happened. Right?” Soobin asked looking at you.

“No. Nothing. Nothing at all,” you assure him.

Soobin just nods, licking his lips as he’s lost in thought. “Let me fix this,” he says determinedly.

“W-what?” you look up to him in surprise.

“I’ll talk to Yeonjun,” Soobin says reluctantly. “If I didn’t push Johnny into your direction this would have never happened. And also, I can’t see you cry. It hurts my insides,” he says avoiding eye contact.

For the first time in a while, you crack a smile, you nudge him. “Don’t get all soft on me now, you giant baby.”

He just smiles, looking down at his hands that were situated in his lap. “Just don’t make me regret helping you out with this,” he said sighing.

You wrap your arms around his waist hugging him, squeezing him to your best ability. “You’re the best, best friend in the whole entire world,” you say squishing your cheek against his. This earned a heartfelt giggle from him and he tries to push you off but you don’t let him.

“Ok, ok, ok. Stop it or else I won’t do it anymore”, he threatens and you let go immediately.

“Now let’s get you drunk. You’ve been through enough,” he chuckles getting up and pulling you up with him.

“Oh my god. Yes, please.”

You arrive in the kitchen again, ready to get to Mia’s level of brain dead as you watch the jello shot jiggle in your hand.

“You’re not having anything?” You ask Soobin, but he just shakes his head. “I’m driving, remember?”

you nod, understanding. “Right, I guess I’ll just cheers you with your Coca Cola,” you snort.

He smiles at you widely, before you bump your cups together. “To never fighting again,” you say raising your plastic shot glass.

“Agreed,” he says doing the same. And just like that, the shot slid down your throat. You were surprised at the amount of alcohol in it, but then you remembered you were at a frat party.

Soobin smiled at the face you made as you tasted the jello. He put his cup down on the counter and looked around the room. Soobin’s eyes wandered from you to the hallway and he froze. Not being able to register what he just saw.

You noticed his gaze stopping, and you wave your hand in front of his face. “Soobin, my dude. You good?” You ask him, but he doesn’t respond. His eyes fixed on something behind you.

You frown at him, turning around to follow his gaze, and just as your eyes landed on what Soobin was seeing, your heart sank.

It was Yeonjun, sticking his tongue inside Yeji’s mouth as he pinned her against the wall. Passionately kissing each other like no one was watching.

“Oh, no,” Soobin said under his breath.

A/N: Sorry.

ATW’s in mine and the character's perspectives are open.

Chapter 3.

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heademptynothoughts · 3 years ago

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Gosh, I would love another nillhall story, but I don't have any good ideas. Maybe a story about Ray's necklace? Or a story about Ray/Heather interactions pre-panic? I know there's already a story about one of Ray's tattoos, but it'd be neat to have a story about his other tattoos. IDK. I just want more nillhall.

thank you so much! this is a little pre-panic nillhall plus the story of ray’s necklace

read below or on ao3

keep my past so close that i forgot it’s gone

In a small town like Carp, everyone knew everyone. Ray had always been a part of Heather’s life, just as she had always been a part of his. And while they had always orbited each other, they had never collided, not really, and they’d certainly never been friends. Both may have had similar upbringings, but Ray had known since they were kids that Heather Nill was destined for more. Whereas Ray was a Hall, deadweight, and he would never be anything else.

From a young age, Ray was aware of the way people saw him, that they’d already decided he was trouble just like his brother and would end up in jail just like his father. When he missed days of school and came back bruised and battered, everyone assumed he was a delinquent, a criminal. No one considered the truth of the matter, that it was his grandpa who left those bruises.

No one except Heather.

———

Heather couldn’t help how her eyes strayed to Ray whenever he was near. There was something about him, a spark, a light in his eyes that drew people to him like moths to a flame. On the days that he came to school all bruises and darkness, Heather knew why. Even as everyone else whispered to themselves, making up rumours and never daring to ask what really happened, she saw the truth. She would’ve been blind not to.

So on those days when his light was extinguished and he flinched at the slightest touch, she did what she could to help him. Nothing big, nothing he noticed, but enough to make his time at school easier.

When anyone who wasn’t one of his friends tried to approach him, she found a way to divert their attention. Sometimes it was as easy as calling out a name and saying hi. Sometimes it would take questions about homework or any other conversation starter. There were a few times where she had to physically drag someone away, but under the guise of friendship and a bright smile, no one thought anything of it.

That all changed the day Ray came to school bruised but beaming, wearing a can tab necklace she’d never seen before.

———

Ray made the necklace as a reminder. A reminder that he was strong, that he had fought back and won, that he wasn’t going to be afraid anymore.

He didn’t know what he had done to set his grandpa off. Not that it mattered anyways. There was never any rhyme or reason to his attacks, none besides the fact that he was drunk off his ass and quick to anger as a result.

A beer can flew at Ray’s head and he moved out of the way just in time, only to get a swift punch in the gut as his grandpa rounded on him. Doubled over, Ray didn’t pay attention to any of the obscenities being hurled at him. He had had enough.

He grit his teeth and unfolded his body, standing up straight, shoulders back, hands curled into fists. He was taller than the old man now, stronger, and he was done being a punching bag.

His grandpa clocked him in the jaw, but it made no difference. Ray’s fists started flying and soon enough he had pushed him down, making it clear that today had been the last time he would ever lay a finger on him.

Afterwards Ray took the can of beer that’d been thrown at him and stalked out the door. Legs shaking, he sat on the porch and fiddled with the tab on the can until it broke off. He stared at it for a moment before placing it in his pocket. Later on, he found a necklace chain and put the can tab on it, turning it into a talisman of sorts.

When he went back to school the next day, he leaned into people’s perception of him. He laughed at the rumours flying around and started acting exactly how he was expected to. He was loud and brash and turned everything into a joke, pretending he had no cares in the world. He was a Hall after all.

———

Heather was still drawn to Ray. Except now it annoyed her to no end. Now he annoyed her to no end.

She hated how her eyes still strayed his way whenever he was around, hated how she sometimes got so distracted by him the rest of the world faded away. Most of all she hated how, try as she might, she really wasn’t any different than all the girls who flocked to him.

She was determined to keep up the pretence of hating him for as long as possible though. And sometimes she forgot her hatred of him was a pretence at all.

———

The first time Ray noticed Heather, actually noticed her as more than just a classmate, she was laughing at something Bishop had said. Aglow with happiness, she became the most beautiful girl Ray had ever seen and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to be the one making her laugh.

Jealousy zinged through him. It was an emotion he often felt when it came to Bishop, but this time it was different. Because this time he wasn’t jealous about his clothes or car or phone or even the food he brought for lunch, this time he was jealous about the fact that Bishop could elicit such a positive reaction from Heather.

From then on he tried different ways to get Heather’s attention, but she didn’t fawn over him like other girls had started to. Instead she was combative, always ready with a quip that quickly put him in his place. He liked that about her, that she didn’t fall for his bullshit and actually called him out on it. He liked that she aspired to be more, that she had dreams which far exceeded Carp. He liked how loyal she was to her friends even if he thought they didn’t deserve it.

He wondered what it was like to be loved by her. He hoped to find out.

#hope you like this!#ask #anon #panic amazon #ray hall #heather nill #nillhall #fanfic #oneshot #my fic

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teamhook · 4 years ago

Text

Finding Hope :: A CS August Rush AU birthday fic

Hellol! Okay, before I go on. I swear this will be the last WIP I start. I had to. This story is for my favorite dork @hookedonapirate cause I love her to death. She had asked me to write it before but at the time I was writing the Forever My Girl CS AU.

Happy Birthday!! Hope you like your present.

Thanks to my beta @ultraluckycatnd she is the best!!

FFN

AO3

A love for music unites an unlikely pair. The rhapsody they unknowingly created will give life to the hope they still have in their hearts.

Killian Jones and his older brother Liam had arrived from London with nothing more than the clothes on their back to pursue a music career. The lives of the Jones brothers had been difficult since the beginning. Their mother died at a young age and their father had decided he was not made to be a family man.

The Jones brothers had formed The Outlaws with some fellow expatriates they met along the way. The venues they played weren't the best, but they managed to make a name for themselves enough to have steady gigs.

Emma Nolan had grown up with loving parents but after an unfortunate accident, she was left alone. Afterwards, her grandfather took her in. George Spencer was an ill-tempered man. He wasn't a doting person, which caused Emma to become closed off. She focused on solace in the cello. Thankfully, the man valued pomp and grandeur so, at the thought of his granddaughter attending Juilliard, he eagerly made it possible.

On a rare night out with her best friend Elsa, they decide to go to listen to a little-known rock band called The Outlaws they saw fliers for. It was love at first sight. The lead singer mesmerized the young cellist with his voice. The girls waited for the band to finish their set to introduce themselves to them. Elsa and Emma fit in with the band perfectly. The Jones brothers had quickly gravitated towards the blonde beauties.

Emma and Killian had slowly drifted away from the group. It ended up being the most magical night for the young lovers above New York's Washington Square.

Months later, Emma finds out she is pregnant. Somehow, she already loves her kid so much. Her grandfather makes his displeasure known, however, every moment of her pregnancy.

The day her life changed was gloomy and rainy. After an argument with George, Emma had gone to the store to buy some last-minute things for her baby. The drunk driver came out of nowhere. When she gives birth prematurely, her grandfather takes advantage while she is unconscious and gives the baby girl up for adoption. The moment Emma wakes up, she is told the news that her baby is dead. The news shatters her musical dreams and any hope of happiness.

You're not special. You're just like the rest of us... alone, nothing but an orphan.

The music... Can you hear it? Listen... I can hear it everywhere.

It's in the wind ...

in the light...

It's all around us.

All you have to do is open your heart and listen.

Sometimes the world tries to knock the hope out of you.

They tried to stop me from hearing the music...

I believe in music the way others believe in fairy tales. When I'm alone it builds inside me eager to erupt into a melody. I like to believe that what I hear came from my parents. That the music I hear is the same one they heard the night they met...

Maybe that's how they found each other and that's how they'll know I am theirs and find me...

Hope Swan had grown up in foster care. As a baby, she had been adopted but returned once the couple was blessed with their own flesh and blood. After that, she bounced from foster home to foster home.

In her shared room at the group home, she's currently at, Hope records herself humming a song that keeps playing in her mind, but is rudely interrupted by her roommate who mocks her. "You are not special. You're just like us, an unwanted orphan."

The girl walks away, slamming the door.

Hope's eyes water at the mean girl's words. She knows it in her heart that she is wanted and someday she will find her parents. She continues recording her humming of the song in her heart.

Hope is now eleven years old. She stands in the back of the group as one of the younger girls is adopted by a couple. Maybe she should be bitter and want to be adopted but if she was, she would never find her parents. They're out there and she will find them.

Hope runs away once more from her group home. Living on the streets she makes friends easily, but is still guarded. She knows that someday her parents will come looking for her. All she wants is to go home.

As she wanders the streets, runaway Hope Swan is getting closer to find her home. She knows she will find her family. All she has to do is listen to the music in her heart and follow it.

A kind man, Merlin, is assigned Hope Swan's case. She wasn't a trouble maker, but she was reportedly closed off with the couples. He is notified that she has run away. She has a history of running away. The picture of the young girl saddens him. He wishes he can find her and place her in a good home. She is a pretty girl, with blonde hair, vibrant sea-blue eyes, dimples, and a slightly dimpled chin. He posts her picture on the board.

Emma Nolan had moved away after losing her daughter. Her little girl, her grandfather told her the baby was a tiny girl. The heartbreak led her to become a music teacher to kids. She was always surrounded by children and music. That was the way she chose to honor her child. An unexpected call from her grandfather's doctor makes her break a promise she had made to herself years ago. He is the only family she has left.

Once she arrives at his house, she is summoned to his death bed.

His eyes tear up. "I thought you wouldn't come."

"I don't hate you Grandpa, but my heart hasn't healed. Time will never heal this wound," she sniffled.

He closes his watery eyes. "I think I can help with that."

Emma gets closer to his bed, confused. "How can you say that? My child is gone! You didn't want her, so you threw her away while I slept. You took that away from me. I couldn't hold her!"

"Emma, enough!" he screams, then immediately starts coughing from the effort.

"I'm sorry, I made a mistake. I know now that family is precious, that image doesn't matter. Emma, I have a confession. I hope it's not too late and that you will find it in your heart to forgive me."

Emma stares at him.

"She's alive. Your little girl is alive."

"What? How can you be so cruel and say that to me!" Emma says with disbelief and tears pooled in her eyes.

"Because it's the truth. She is alive. I gave her up for adoption, and I was the one who signed the papers. I was your next of kin since you weren't married."

Emma gapes at the old man as she let her limp body drop to the chair next to his bed. "You gave my daughter away as if she was property because I embarrassed you?"

George Spencer can't keep his eyes on his granddaughter. The once-proud man weakened by age and disease casts his eyes down in shame. "In my safe, you will find the documents."

"What good will that do me?" Emma asks.

"Emma, my attorney can help you find her," he says quietly.

"But-"

"Emma, if your parents were here, they would tell you that you should never lose hope," he says.

Emma stands up. "You're right, I'm going to find my daughter."

George sighs as he falls into a deep sleep, his machines flatlining. The nurse that had given them privacy to talk rushes in as soon as the machine goes off.

Emma finds the papers and with trembling hands, calls Mr. Gold, the attorney.

The man is a ruthless slimy bastard. He tries to convince Emma that her kid is better off where she is. Of course, he would say that seeing he had helped her grandfather do this to her; he was just covering his ass. She doesn't care about that. All she wants is to get her kid. She has a daughter and she is out there. She hopes to God that she is being taken care of.

Killian Jones had moved to California not long after The Outlaws broke up. He had given up his dream of singing, but somehow had managed to gain a thriving career as an agent.

He had also distanced himself from the memory of Emma. After the band broke up, his brother and former bandmates had moved to Boston. Killian thought the further away he could get would be better, though. He tried forgetting her, but he knew he could never forget her. It was only one night, but he would belong to her for the rest of time.

Liam had called him a few days prior to ask if he wanted to join them in a reunion of sorts. They were going to play at the little place where he had met Emma. The joint was going out of business so in an effort to raise money to save it, The Outlaws had agreed to come out of retirement for one night only.

Killian had yet to agree, but 'what if' rattled in his brain. Something inside him tugged at his heart. A man unwilling to fight for what he wants gets what he deserves, Liam had told him over and over. He decides he will do it. He will fly to New York and look for Emma. He prays to every deity he can that she is not married. It's a selfish thought, but he couldn't bear it if she isn't meant for him.

Killian picks up the phone and dials his brother's number. "Liam, I'll be there."

"Brother, you'll do it? What happened to never setting foot in New York?" Liam asks.

"Liam, are you going to question my decision? I thought you would be happy," Killian says through gritted teeth.

"I am, I am. I'm just surprised. Killian, this doesn't have anything to do with her, does it?"

"Brother," Killian sighs, "Even if it was, I don't have a way to contact her." Sure he was lying, but his brother didn't have to know all his reasons.

"We are driving out there," Liam says.

"I'll fly. I will text you the details once I've made arrangements," Killian says.

"Alright, see you then," Liam adds. "Brother, it's going to be good seeing you after so long. I miss you."

Killian sighs. "I miss you too."

The line disconnects. Alright Emma Nolan, what have you been up to? he thinks as he enters her name in the browser's search engine. He had thought of looking for her before, but he had never found any sign of her online. He knows her family has money but somehow she has managed to stay hidden. The only information that would come up was of her grandfather's business deals. His heart tells him that this time, though, things would be different.

Sure enough, he finds one headline: "George Spencer dies at home after a long battle with heart disease."

Killian reads the headline carefully and his heart sparks with hope to see Emma again. The newspaper lists her as the sole survivor of her grandfather's Estate. That means she would have to be at his home. He winces at the thought. He knows that his method to approach her while grieving will be considered to be in bad form, but if it is the only chance he has, he has to make the best of the situation. He takes a deep breath and alters his flight plans so he can arrive a couple of days earlier.

Mr. Gold had changed his tune when Emma didn't fall for his manipulations and offered his services. Emma reluctantly accepted his help. He told her to give him a couple of hours and at that time, he would have information to make her search easier. He quickly found out that her daughter had ended up in foster care. He gave her the name of the caseworker assigned to Hope Swan. That was her baby's name. Emma tries to ignore the fact that her daughter is in the care of the state. She wonders what she looks like? Does she take after her or him? Killian Jones, he had never left her thoughts, but before it was painful to think of him because inevitably her thoughts would end on her daughter. Emma smiles, realizing how fitting the name Hope was for their daughter. Emma thanks Mr. Gold and goes to see Merlin Wilde.

Emma arrives at the CPS office. Her nerves are getting the best of her. She approaches the information desk. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Mr. Wilde?"

The woman looks bored. "Do you have an appointment?"

Emma shakes her head. "No, I'm sorry. I must speak to him, though."

The woman rolls her eyes. "Fill out the sign-in sheet. I will see if he can fit you in today." She gets up and heads to a door behind her desk.

Emma is about to sit down when something catches her eye. Pictures of missing kids. Runaways. She gravitates to the board. Her heart is beating so fast as her eyes land on a name, Hope Swan. Emma smiles as she stares at blue eyes that reminded her of the pair that stole her heart all those years back. The sound of someone clearing their throat startles her.

"I'm sorry for startling you, Miss Nolan. I'm Merlin Wilde." He smiles at her as he looks over her sign-in sheet and signals for her to follow him.

"Oh, no it's okay. Yes, I wanted to speak to you in private. My situation is not a common story," Emma says as she follows him to his office.

They enter his office and he kindly motions for her to take a seat.

Emma looks around the office. She tries to get a feel for the man. He seems kind, but looks can be deceiving.

"Miss Nolan, how may I help you? Is there a child in a situation you are concerned about?"

Emma nods. "Mr. Wilde, yes, in fact, that is the reason why I'm here."

"Alright," he starts taking notes. "May I have the child's name?"

"Hope Swan," Emma says. "I'm her mother."

Merlin looks up from his computer. "I'm sorry," he says as he types rapidly on his computer keyboard, before looking up quizzically. "Her case says she is in the care of Mrs. Emerald."

"I'm afraid you misunderstood me. I'm Hope's biological mother." She takes a deep breath. "I was young and unmarried when I got pregnant with her, and my grandfather didn't think having a child was appropriate." Her eyes begin to sting because of the tears. "He took it upon himself to decide that giving my daughter away while I was unconscious because of an accident was the appropriate decision to make. Until recently, I thought Hope was dead. I'm here because I need your help getting my daughter back. I understand she is in foster care, so it shouldn't be a big deal, right?"

Merlin keeps his eyes on her and laughs. "She is a good kid, the people that had fostered her before never had a complaint about her. She loves music and she always hummed a melody to herself. She was just not open to letting them in. It's like she knew she didn't belong there. I'm afraid that has caused her to run away on several occasions. I was just informed she ran away from the last home."

Emma's eyes tear up. "I loved my daughter from the moment I knew she was there. I used to play a song on the cello for her that her father sang the night we met. Until the day I thought I had lost her, I played the same song. I need to find her."

"And we will, Miss Nolan. I have put up fliers all over the city."

Emma nods. "I will look for her myself. I plan on hiring a private investigator. Could I have a picture of her?"

"Of course, Miss Nolan. I will do all in my power to help get your daughter back. I'm going to go looking for her at Washington Square Park. That is a hot spot for runaways. If you would like to join me? We might get lucky," he says as he hands her the picture of Hope from her file.

Emma smiles. "Sure, I will. Thank you for asking."

Hope is sitting on a bench at Washington Square Park and then she hears some music playing. Instantly, she is drawn to it. A boy around her age is playing the guitar. She smiles wide and sits down to enjoy the show. People surround the boy as he plays and they drop change on a baseball cap on the floor. Once he finishes playing, the boy picks up his cap and puts the money in his pocket. He grabs his guitar and thanks the crowd before leaving.

Curious, Hope follows him to an abandoned theatre.

Killian arrives on the first flight of the day. He rents a car and makes his way to the Nolan Estate. He is a nervous wreck. What will Emma think of him showing up unannounced? He hopes she will be happy to see him.

The boy Hope was following introduces himself as Henry. She likes him. He is nice and he promptly explains that all the runaway children live there. They had been taken in by Walsh Oz, the "Wizard". The man provides a roof over their head and food.

"Don't worry, Hope. He will teach you how to perform in street corners to pay for your part. If you're lucky and any good, he will let you use one of the park's spots," Henry says. "When he gets home with food, I will introduce you."

Hope thinks to herself it couldn't be that bad. This way, she won't be picked on for playing music.

Henry smiles fondly at Hope. "So why did you run away?"

Hope smiles back. "I'm going to find my parents. How about you?"

"My adoptive mom didn't love me." He shrugs. "Hope, I know you will find them."

Hope beams. "Thank you, but how can you believe so?"

Henry smiles. "I have a feeling that you will find them and then you will have your happy ending."

The Wizard hadn't always lived in condemned buildings. He once had been a success in his art but lost it due to some scandal years ago, but he could still spot talent. The young girl Henry had brought to him had loads of talent. She had played a song that most of the other kids couldn't play. The girl was magical. She appeared to be a musical genius with savant-like abilities and perfect pitch. He knows he could make a good living off of that girl. He smiles wickedly as the girl plays with his prized guitar, Roxanne. "Well, looks like we found our top earner thanks to Henry," The Wizard says to the group. He pulls Hope to the side. "Alright, you are going to be in my old spot at the park and you will be using Roxanne." He scrutinizes her. "Now what should we call you?"

"My name is Hope," she says.

He walks back and forth contemplating and shaking his head. "I know, I shall call you Odette."

Emma and Merlin arrive at the park. They split up in the hope to cover more ground.

Merlin posts missing posters of Hope on every corner he can; he even hands some to the people walking by.

Emma is walking around the corner when something catches her eye. They have some posters for an upcoming event displaying some talent from Julliard. She smiles wistfully, she misses her music. She takes out her phone to call an old friend. Elsa had ended up at their old school as a teacher.

Somehow her connection is stronger now. She has a sudden need to play. She feels it will help her connect with her daughter.

Tag list:

@rumdrum91 @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx @hookedonapirate @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @revanmeetra87 @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @kymbersmith-90 @branlovestowrite @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @ilovemesomekillianjones @thisonesatellite @thesschesthair @winterbythesea @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @artistic-writer @thislassishooked @shardminds @winterbaby89 @xhookswenchx @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling @laschatzi @wellhellotragic @xemmaloveskillianx @courtorderedcake @pirateherokillian @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @sherlockianwhovian @andiirivera @djlbg @nikkiemms @jennjenn615 @scientificapricot @officerrogers @imlaxdris71 @therealstartraveller776 @kday426 @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @donteattheappleshook @reggieshamster @lassluna @carpedzem @captainodonoghue @killian-will-do @jarienn972 @tehgreeneyes @demisexualemmaswan @queen-serena88 @swanslieutenant @tiganasummertree @whimsicallyenchantedrose @bethacaciakay @ohmakemeahercules @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @mariakov81 @sals86 @elizabeethan @brooke-to-broch @hookedonhiddles @onceratheart18 @the-darkdragonfly @veryverynotgoodwrites @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight

#Captain Swan #cs birthday fic #hookedonapirate #cs ff #CSMM #Captain Swan Movie Marathon #CSMM20

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letfatewritethewords · 3 years ago

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I process things with art. I process with written words in the hopes that one day it can be spoken without my voice shaking. This week has been one for the books.. and I decided to share. This is long, but I want to remember what I’m learning.. how I’m processing.. if you decide to read, thank you. If not, this will still be here as a reminder of my progress every year.

I always tell people that there was no reason for my name, but it’s a lie. I’m named after Samantha on BeWitched. My grandfather loved that show and suggested it when my mother couldn’t decide. I was born in early September and that makes me a Virgo. Astrology is one of my favorite things. There’s something extraordinary about the idea that we’re connected to the universe by the positioning of the stars. Sometimes it’s so vague.. but other times, it’s right on the nose and my horoscopes will make me cry. Speaking of that, I’m an empath and a 2. When I’m unhealthy, I’m a 4 and If you know what any of that means, I’d love to talk to you more about it. Winter is my favorite season. Fall is a close second. I love the snow and how muted everything is. I like the quiet, the beauty. Sometimes, the light from the sun will shimmer off a fresh coat of snow on the ground. It is absolutely blinding, but I’d still stare, and when the snow fell at night, I’d watch it under the street light across from my house and it felt like time stood still. When I was little, I would lay in the yard full of snow, alone, in my puffy suite, until my fingers and toes would go numb from the cold, listening to the silence, but the best part of those days was going back into my grandparents house and warming up with hot coco made on the stove, wrapping myself in a soft blanket and watching old movies with my grandfather. To me, the Winter is magical. My love languages are Quality Time and Acts of Service. I’m an introvert but I love people. I like to observe, I like to really understand how the mind works and Im eager to help. I thrive in controlled chaos. I like puzzles, I love music, I like crafts, I like to fix things because grandpa always taught me that nothing is to broken to fix. Nothing. No one.

This is the light. This is the part of me that I give willingly to anyone I meet. I wear it on my sleeve. It’s only the light. Until the last 2 years.. this was all I could give of myself because I’ve always been scared of the dark.

The darkest part of me lasted 8 years, my rock bottom lasted 4.5, but as a whole it’s taken up almost 12 years of my life. Sometimes I worry that all I'm ever going to be is this thing that happened to me. That this will define me for the rest of my life and I need to remind myself that I’m a person that can live separate from an event.

I went to the police station this week, I filled out more forms. I’ve filled out so many forms over the last 2 years. For an emergency restraining order this time. For Florida this time. I knew it would eventually follow me here but typhus felt too soon. The clerk called me brave. I smile and thank them every time but I never know how to respond to that. She has no idea how weak it feels and I mean.. how could she. This is the right choice, the obvious choice, the smart choice. In a different situation, it’s one of the many steps I’d be urging someone else to take. In all the chaos, all the hurt, in all the anger and sadness.. it always circles back to “I loved him”. I did. I wanted to fix him. I wanted to see him grow and heal and if I loved him hard enough for the both of us, it would’ve evened out eventually… right?

I failed.

He was always who he was, but I was young and naive and ready to fix the whole world. When I was 18 and we were free, I would’ve told you he saved me. Now that I’m in my 30’s… and he’s in prison and I’m in limbo.. I don’t know what I’d tell you. He didn’t save me, but he didn’t destroy me either. I had every opportunity to tap out and give up.. but I grew into a person I might not have been if I never met him.

Am I angry? All of the time.

Am I scared? Yes.

I see things more clearly now though. People talk about how you never know someone’s story, and that’s because we are experts at playing pretend like we have it all figured out until we’re alone and have to face truest selves. The facade is the hardest thing to give up. Some people saw through mine and there are others, who have built their own, that never will. I share posts about what I’ve learned, how I see people, how I’ve try to treat people with grace and teach children with love and patience in hopes that a little of that sinks into whoever it reaches, but I very rarely show the journey. Partly because I know the details are gruesome and that’s not for everyone, but mostly because I’m scared.

How will you see me?

What will you think?

I’m learning that I’m not this big awful thing that happened to me. I was never anyone’s property and I’m not chained to it anymore. I was very much lied to and manipulated and hurt long enough that it flipped onto me and I carried it without missing a step. I wanted to love him so much that I would heal him. Instead, he “loved” me so much it almost killed me, and he did call it love. Enough times that he re-defined it and I didn’t use that word for a very long time in any meaningful situation. He, for better or for worse, drastically changed the trajectory of my life.

But it’s ok.

I’m wounded but I’m healing. I’m lonely, but I’m learning how to slowly welcome more people in and step out of my comfort zone. If I’m being honest, I’m relearning a lot of things, including how to exist in a world where I have room to make mistakes and fail. I can say or do the wrong thing and be gently corrected for it by my people and move on … sans violence. There are no words for amount of relief I feel because of that truth.

Is it over? No.

He was sentenced to 7 years last year and every year around mid July early August there is an opportunity to apply for an appeal based on his behavior, which will always be immaculate because he is not as tough as he thinks he is. This means that if he applies and it goes to trial, I’m also notified and have to reappear, show any new evidence, and reexplain why he needs to stay there for the safety of others and myself. Telling my story once a year on a whim to a room full of strangers, always men, so they can decide my fate, as well as the fate of this “upstanding young man with a good head on his shoulders” (actual words used during my initial rape/domestic abuse trial against him), was never what I imagined finally turning him in would look like. I really never thought that after everything, his sentence wouldn’t even be as long as our relationship. The original sentence was 5 years. After he got out on a Governor Cuomo Covid related prison loophole and broke his parole almost immediately, he was sentenced to another 2 on top of that. He has 6 left. We talk about how flawed our system is, but really seeing it is a different kind of punch. Women aren’t believed. There’s a reason so many of these crimes go unreported, and why so many women die at the hands of angry men. The hoops you have to jump through are miles high and on fire, and when you and the advocate show up armed only with your truth, your tears and a little evidence from one night at a bar when he got to drunk and forgot he was in public, it’s very easy for a judge to rule on the softer side. Because, as you all know, we’d never want to ruin a wealthy mans life unless there’s cold, hard, reason to.

Seeing his face when they read out his sentence, after years of terror, was satisfying to say the least and if I hadn’t been so numb to get through the hearing, I would’ve enjoyed it more. I will never forget going to a trusted friends house after that hearing and being completely overwhelmed with all of the emotions. Relief, guilt, sadness, anger, happiness, fear.. so many I couldn’t express.. all at once because the novocain wears off and numb isn’t forever and I fell asleep with their dog after a lot of crying. I’d be lying though if I said that 18 year old in me didn’t feel a loss. I grew up with incredible grandparents that did amazing things in teaching me how to love people and be a good human, but no one can protect us from everything. I also grew up with a mother who fights demons of her own and never had the capacity to love two kids. In a situation like that, someone becomes the punching bag. I became the punching bag and desperately looked for ways out, an opportunity to run.. and I ran right into him, who accepted me with open arms for the first time in my young, very inexperienced life.. and I followed him blindly and he was my whole world. Until I was 27, I didn’t have a guide. By the grace of God I landed into a community in Florida that slowly helped me realize my worth.

So.. what now.

How do we fix what our parents and past broke?

How do you reparent yourself?

The mental health journey is proving to be my biggest struggle yet. There’s no more outside factors, it’s just me and the lies that have fed me for years and altered how I think and feel and understand the world. I can feel myself frustrating people I’ve let close to me. I feel myself getting nervous and pushing people away. Sometimes I can catch it and regroup, other times that nasty little voice is too loud and I’m exhausted. My goodness though, how cool is it to learn so much about yourself? I know I have the capacity to love that broken part of me eventually, but it’s still hard to face. Getting to learn and understand the reason behind your actions is terrifyingly amazing. I am proud of this journey. Even when I don’t always come up on top. It’s hard to see the progress while you’re in it, but laying it all out like this.. I can safely say I’m never going to be that 18 year old girl ever again. Some days this journey looks different, some days the darkness wins, because healing isn’t linear. Sometimes it’s one step forward, 2 steps back… but nothing is too broken to fix.. and I will never call that darkness home again.

#lonliness #abuse survivor #survivor #domestic violent relationships #domestic violence #processing

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afriendlyblackhottie · 4 years ago

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Ransom Drysdale Must Die (Chapter One)

Summary: Ransom Drysdale is a serial cheater. The only way to get him to pay for what he’s done is for him to die. Or at least be extremely humiliated. As long as you don’t fall for him.

Pairings: Eventual Ransom Drysdale x black!reader, Ransom Drysdale x Multiple OC’s

Warnings: Swearing. Eventual smut.

(Author’s Note: I was watching John Tucker must die and it made me think of my favorite sweater wearing murder daddy.)

Tags: @night-of-the-living-shred

Word Count: 2.0k

It's not that you were invisible. You preferred to think of it as keeping a low profile. Growing up, you didn't really have a choice but to keep things to yourself. What was the point of trusting people if all you were going to do was leave? You couldn't make friends or keep them if you'd be moving in another four to six months anyway. Not that it was your choice.

It started at a really young age. Technically before you were even born. Your mom had been a teen parent. Your dad didn't stick around which was all you knew about him. It didn't take long for you to get used to the myriad of men walking in and out of your life. Then you got used to seeing your mom, your only constant, getting treated like garbage over and over and over.

She never had an issue with dating. It was them sticking around that was apparently tricky. The problem is that when it would happen the same thing always happened. She'd binge on chocolate. Use you as a shoulder to cry on. Then you'd be moving to flee into the next city. It was kind of fucked up.

While she cried over the hundredth guy your nose was either buried in a book or painting which had been your only escape. You never wanted to judge your mom. She didn't deserve to always have her heartbroken. But, you also didn't deserve having a mom that wanted to pack up at the first sign of trouble. She didn't seem to get that.

As an adult, you promised yourself that you would find one place and stick to it. It might have hurt your mom a little to watch you go, but she understood that you had to go away for college and stuff. Which is how you ended up in Boston. You kind of remember living in Boston once back in the day. You liked the winters surprisingly and the way the trees looked in the fall. You remembered being happy which is why it sucked so much to leave.

You’d gotten your degree, but finding a job had been difficult. Which is how you ended up working at this country club. Though you could live without all the snobby rich people being total assholes, at least they tipped well. You mostly waitress in the clubhouse where it was usually the older crowd and the families that sucked up to them for the inheritance.

It was also how you first noticed him. Hugh Ransom Drysdale. From the moment you laid eyes on him you could tell he was dangerous. Just like those men, your mother would fall for that would inevitably break her heart. That same air of arrogance hanging over him like a cloud, except much better looking with a trust fund to go along with it.

He insisted everyone in the clubhouse call him Hugh. Which according to everyone is what he insists the help call him. God, he's a fucking asshole.

You remember the first time you talked to him. He was so enchanting. It was annoying. He was like Gaston come to life. Just as handsome, just as charming, just as scummy. Sure he made those white polos he wore to play golf look like he'd just stepped off a shoot for GQ. His gaze was enough to make any woman swoon. Even you as much as you hated to admit it.

It'd been one of the few times you'd worked at the bar. Someone had called out and being the new girl you were told to take their spot. "Sweetheart, be useful and get me a bourbon," he'd said in this rude tone.

"Not even a please?" You muttered under your breath as you turned your back to get a glass.

"What was that?" He asked, with a quirk in his eyebrow.

You kissed your teeth before turning back to him, "Excuse me?" You plastered a sweet smile on your face.

"You got something to say? Say it." He challenged.

You shook your head. "I didn't... I didn't say anything."

He chuckled. "Okay, lo-"

Your jaw dropped as you put your hand on your chest. "Oh my god, Sir, if you're already drunk I can't serve you. You'd be a liability."

"That's a big word. Did they teach you that in community college?" The glare in his eye was intense and you couldn't help it as a smile spread across your face.

"Actually I think I learned it from where you get your trust fund."

You were surprised when he laughed. But, not that little sarcastic chuckle. Like an actual laugh. "Usually I'd call the manager over and enjoy them firing you in front of me, but lucky for you I'm in a good mood and kind of enjoying this. Now get me my bourbon."

"One bourbon coming up." You shrugged.

You talked with him for the rest of your shift surprisingly. The conversation going from hostile to surprisingly pleasant. He’d told you about some issue he’d been having with his grandfather that he hadn’t told the rest of his family he laughed at the idea of them finding out. Said he couldn’t wait to see the look on their faces when they found out everything was going to the nurse.

It was the trashy rich people drama that you craved.

“I know there’s gonna be a lot of bullshit when they find out they aren’t getting that house,” he’d scoffed, looking up at you from his drink.

“I’d be pissed too,” you replied. “I’m sure that house looks like a museum. I’d love to see it.”

“It’s insane.” He nodded. “Imagine like a horror museum with one of those escape rooms.”

You laughed. “So like plastic spiders? Cobwebs? Ghosts!” What a turn around this had been from the initial conversation the two of you were having.

“Not at all,” he said laughing. “It’s more like everything he’s ever thought for his novels, he just adds to his home. Like he needs the visualization. He has a secret window and a chair with knives. It’s insane.”

“That actually sounds pretty cool. Your grandpa sounds like a pretty cool guy, you must admire him a lot.”

“I mean... yeah, but I’d never tell him that.”

“Why not?” You asked with a chuckle.

“It’s complicated,” he answered, before bringing his glass up to his lips. “Like, I love him, but....”

“No. I get it.” Of course, you did. Your mom was a complicated figure in your life, but you could never not love her.

“I’ve done a lot of shit.” He shrugged. “So, I think it’s mutual.”

“At least his house sounds interesting. Like a work of art. I’m kind of a sucker for art.”

“Do you paint? Draw? Doodle on an iPad.” The way he smiled up at you, you would have never guessed that he was the giant asshole everyone made him out to be. There was this softness there even if it was hiding under his arrogant exterior.

You chuckled. “I paint. Though I do partake in the doodling on iPads.”

“I’d love to see your work sometime,” he said. “Do you sell?”

“I haven’t,” you replied. “But, I’m open to it. I guess. I’d show you now, but I’m not allowed to have my phone on the floor.”

“Oh so I’m not worth risking being fired for, I get it,” he joked, shaking his head as if he was offended.

You laughed, tilting your head back. “I know right. I’m already risking it by even talking to you. Harrington is so strict.”

There was this squint on his face as he kind of looked you up and down. It felt like he was studying you and it made you feel like you were under a microscope. “You’ve got a cute laugh you know that?”

No. Don’t give in. You had to tell yourself. You didn’t want to get involved with anyone you’d have to workaround. Besides, it was Ransom Drysdale. You’d just seen him with a woman yesterday. “Thank you,” you brushed him off. “Can I get you another drink?”

He sighed, checking the time on his phone. “As much as I’d love to stay and chat. I have to get going. Maybe I’ll stop by soon so we can talk again. Maybe show me some of your work?”

“Sure.”

He’d left you a forty dollar tip. You were not expecting that.

You’d left work that night feeling pretty good. Not that you were expecting him to fall in love with you or anything. Or for anything to happen at all. It was just a nice encounter with the guy everyone was obsessed with here. Besides you promised yourself you’d never, ever fall into the same trap as Mom had.

It’s not that you didn’t date. You were picky, though. The few relationships you’d had were okay, but you didn’t want to get hurt so you never wanted to get in too deeply.

Then the next day you had come to work, he’d walked in with Marissa on his arm. That stopped any and all thoughts you may have had. It was during that lull between when they'd stopped serving breakfast and brought out the lunch menus. You weren’t surprised that a man like Hugh Ransom Drysdale would be dating a woman like Marissa Clermont. She was exactly the type of woman men like him go for. You know a model IT girl type of deal.

It wasn’t just because he’d been dating Marissa. Of course not. It was because the day before you he’d just come in with Amber Taylor. The daughter of a retired Boston Celtics player. Also, a beautiful woman (also a model you think) who clearly didn’t know her boyfriend was two-timing her.

“Fascinating isn’t it?” Your co-worker, Britt, interrupted your thoughts as she’d come back from taking their drink order. Her arms were crossed as she tried to not make it too obvious that was she looking over at them. “He comes in here with different women and none of them have any idea.”

You frowned as you saw him whispering in her ear, making her giggle, probably telling her the same thing he told Amber just yesterday. “Yeah, I see that,” you replied. “How does he get away with it?”

“Ladies! Back to work!” Harrington, your manager, barked towards the both of you which made the both of you scurry off before she even had the chance to answer. You didn’t even get to talk to her because her shift was over soon then you were off the next day. You weren’t even sure why you cared so much.

When you got back to work it was during that lull time. Ransom was there of course with a different woman. Chloe Daniels. A blonde that had been the sole heir to her husband’s entire fortune no matter how much his ex wife or adult children tried to fight it. You were happy you got to witness the drama for that.

“He messes around with girls that don’t talk to each other,” Britt was finally able to explain. “So, they never find out. At least, that’s what the story around here is.”

“Wow he has a whole system worked out...” you crinkle your nose. Ugh what a fucking pig. Just like your mother and those douchebags she dated.

“I mean, I kind of get it,” Britt said. “He’s hot. I might put up with being treated like trash for that much. Hell, I’ve put up being treated like trash for much less.”

You held in the laugh you wanted to let out as you could see Harrington lurking around, waiting to say something to the two of you. He never missed his chance to give out orders.

For as long as the couple sat through you couldn’t stop staring. Britt was right. It was fascinating.

#ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey x you #ransom x y/n #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x black!reader #ransom drysdale x poc!reader #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x black!reader

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punkcupcakestyles · 5 years ago

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Love Song

Part 15

Catch Up!

Sofia Welsh-De La Rosa and Timothée Chalamet will star in new Amazon series and, honestly, I won’t talk about anything else ever again

Amazon Prime has just announced the release of its new original series set in 1970’s New York. According to Hollywood Reporter, the new series will be lead by Sofia Welsh - De La Rosa, Timothée Chalamet, and Logan Lerman, and will be produced by Jordan Peele (Get Out and Us) and directed by Christina Hodson (Birds of Prey). The ambitious project is in talks with some other big names in Hollywood, such as Meryl Streep and even Robert de Niro, to join the series.

Honestly, I’m gagging.

This might come as a surprise as both Sofia, who has been enjoying lots of Oscar’s buzz for the third year in a row, and Timothèe are on the prime of their movie careers, as two of the most prominent young actors in Hollywood, but according to many sources, Sofia has been looking for a way to work with Peele for a long time, while Timothèe is excited to add some action to his resume, after his role in Hostiles and The King. Also, rumor has it, Amazon is willing to pay a hefty (and I mean hefty) amount of money to sign the young stars.

As for Logan Lerman, this is his the actor’s first TV role since 2005 and is set to be his comeback after his career faded a bit to the background. With the star-studded cast, Amazon is hoping this to be the platform’s next big hit.

There is no doubt that Sofia, Timothèe, and Logan are three of THE most talented young actors today, with Sofia being the reigning queen of the pack. Recently, the actress has played a pirate, a thief, a devious courtesan and a feminist writer trying to bring down love, and she’s been rumored to have just signed a deal with Disney to play her very own princess, as well as an undisclosed character in MCU’s highly anticipated Black Widow. She truly has the range, Darling!

Sofia was seen having coffee with Timothèe early in the week, before the show’s announcement, which sparked rumors that the actress had ended things with Harry Styles after he had dinner with his ex in London. She was also seen leaving the James Corden Late Late Night’s studio with Logan...

@BobbyC I’m sorry but all of them are gay...

@Peanutbuttah Eh, she can’t act anyway

@Loveisloud @peanutbuttah She can act, she has been in commercial and art-house movies and has received rave reviews every time. You just don’t like her because she’s dating your fave.

@Arewethereyet she’s an sl*t. So glad Harry’s done with her…

@Soph Are you drunk Buzzfeed? One does not leave Harry Styles for anyone!

****

Harry was cooking.

The air smelled like garlic and butter and I breathed in deeply, just realizing how fucking hungry I was, as I followed him to the kitchen. It just occurred to me that I hadn’t eaten anything that day, other than a cup of coffee that Harry had made me in the morning. It was a little strong for my taste, I liked mine with sugar, even when my mom kept telling me I was being violently disrespectful to coffee. I didn’t care, not one bit.

I never really ate on interviews or auditions days, it made my tummy feel funny and I was usually afraid that my clothes wouldn’t fit like they were supposed to after, so, no food for me, thank you. Usually, D would force-feed me as soon as we were done, practically shoving fruits, nuts, and salads down my throat (sometimes even a burger!), but today I was way too anxious and excited to even pay attention to her efforts. I was going on a date with Harry, I couldn’t care less about anything else!!!

And now, I was fucking hungry and it smelled even better in the kitchen.

“I didn’t know you cooked,” I smiled, looking at the pasta that was boiling on the stove and the bubbling alfredo sauce. Grilled prawns and a green salad were carefully plated in rustic blue and gold plates.

My eyes traveled to him, and I saw him hesitate for a second before he gifted me with a shy smile. He was so lovely, it was no surprise that my head became fuzzy every time I was around him. Even the most superficial thought struggled to grab a hold to my brain. I wondered if anyone could keep their wits around him, but somehow, I doubted it.

“It takes my mind off of things,” he finally said. “And I kinda wanted to impress you, I guess.”

The admission made my heart soar in my chest and I beamed at him as he stood in front of me. I admired his beauty for a second, his skin was slightly tanned and it looked almost delicious against the white fabric of his shirt, and his smile was warm, making me feel giddy as he trapped me against the counter with his arms on each side of my body.

I wanted to kiss him, so so badly, but instead, I let my fingers brush over his neck until they reached the tips of his hair. It tickled and he laughed softly with the most wonderful smile.

“Really?” I asked him softly, cause I didn’t want to break the intimate moment we were sharing.

“Yeah. A bit silly, innit?”

“No, it’s not silly. But, if you wanted to impress me, then you should’ve made a chocolate lava cake,” I teased. “You would’ve gotten me, then.”

“Chocolate, uh?” The right corner of his lip shot upwards, and an adoring feeling hit me right in the chest like a tidal wave.

“Yeap.”

“I’ll keep it in mind for next time,” Harry muttered, his words getting lost in the air as he leaned down to kiss me.

I realized that it was all I wanted: To kiss him slowly, maybe even for hours. But I knew I had to stop him. I was under his spell and there was nothing I could do about it, nothing I wanted to do, anyway. But even I could admit that this was just a dream, one that I wanted to remember every second of. So when he was gone, I would still have those memories.

So before his lips could brush mine, before he could melt my brain with his kisses, I pressed my forehead to his and dropped my hands to his chest, right where his heart was beating rapidly.

“Sorry,” I said shyly, casting my eyes down so I wouldn’t have to look at him, not a few more seconds, not until I had gathered the will to stand strong by my decision.

“Is there something wrong?” His voice was full of sincere concern, a little bit rougher as well, which made his accent more noticeable.

“No,” I shook my head, finally looking into his green eyes. “Everything’s perfect.”

“You just don’t want me to kiss you?”

“It’s just...I want to remember every bit of tonight,” I said, as I tried to ease the utter embarrassment that was crawling over my chest. Who said stuff like that? Writers in cheesy movies or bad teen shows. Fuck.

“Except for my kisses?” He insisted, almost like a little boy fishing for reassurance. I brought my fingers to his cheek and grazed them it until he smiled at me.

The answer was “fuck, no”. His kisses were a memory I wanted to carry with me forever. But I also wanted to have that night, so I could carry it with me, and compare it to every other date, every other person that would come my way.

“I want to remember the little details,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “The dinner you made, which is really close to burning, the grandpa pants…”

“Hey! These look cool! And the sauce, I have it under control!”

“If you say so,” I sneered mischievously, twisting my lips into a mocking smile as he pretended to be offended. “And I want to remember everything you did to make me feel special”

Harry’s arms looped around my waist as he pulled me to his chest and I hugged him back and looked at him, battling the need to just lean in and kiss him. His lips were so pink.

We both sucked at the whole “no kissing allowed” thing, and somehow that made me feel a lot better. For once, I wasn’t the needy, dreamy one.

“What do you think?” I asked in a whisper, smiling against the brush of his lips as he bumped our noses together.

“I want to kiss you, Sof, all fucking night long,” he pouted. “Been thinking ‘bout it all day.”

“I’ll make it up to you. Just...lemme have this, yeah?”

“Why?”

“Cause…” I laughed embarrassedly. “I already have your kisses in a little folder in my brain. Now I wanna have this.”

“Is it just me in that folder?” Harry asked, suddenly interested in some other thing that frowning. Curiosity and amusement were burning in his stare and I rolled my eyes at him, almost scoffing at the fact that was the only thing that had managed to catch his attention.

“Mostly you…” I conceded, even though the petty part of me was all for rolling out with a long list of names before I got to his name. “And Sebastian Stan…” I said, not being able to resist it.

“Bucky Barnes?” His eyebrows twisted in confusion and he looked at me as I licked my lips, considering just how weird I wanted my answer to be.

“And the cartoon, too...” I replied, a little bit too casually for it to go unnoticed, but Harry didn’t seem to notice, cause as he was nodding thoughtfully, his hands traveled to my neck again, making me look at him as he dipped his head down to reach the curve of my neck.

“That’s a bit greedy, baby,” He whispered against my skin, pressing soft kisses down to my pulse point. I wasn’t sure if that was technically a kiss, and I didn’t care, it felt so good. “Someone else?” He was cheating, and we both knew it. I could feel his smile growing bigger, and I sighed as he grazed his teeth over the curve of my neck and let his tongue soothe my skin. “Babe?” He insisted, just to tease me. It was hard to think, and he knew it, but I wasn’t going to admit it just yet.

“Uh.” I licked my lips and struggled for a second, as I struggled to remember what was it that I was going to say. “Chris Evans, “ I began. “and uh, Michael B. Jordan. Mmm… and Logan Lerman.”

“Isn’t that the guy you’re gonna work with?” He asked, stopping suddenly to look at me. I fluttered my eyes open and smiled when they could finally focus on him.

“Yeah, him and Timothée Chalamet.”

“Mmmm...I don’t know if I want to share my folder with them,” Harry pouted, which made me laugh. I realized it was no laughing matter, but still, a warm, almost giddy, laughter kept bubbling out of my tummy.

“Why? Does it make you jealous, H?” I teased.

“Should I be?”

“Mmmm...I don’t know. I honestly think I would let Logan fuck me...those eyes, man.”

“So funny, S…” Harry rolled his eyes. He was not as amused as I had expected him to be.

“You shouldn’t be,” I said softly, looking him in the eyes, serious and sincere.

“You sure?” He asked and I was sure he wasn’t talking about Logan Lerman anymore.

“I’m sure, baby.” I wasn’t even lying. “So, who’s in yours?” I asked, cause maybe that’d take attention away from myself. I didn’t think things through though, cause he had a whole bunch of options for his answer. Who could it be? One of his supermodel exes? His singer ex? This wasn’t a fun game at all.

“You.”

“Oh, so THAT’S how you answer that kind of question!!” I exclaimed, which made him laugh, and, as he did so, his dimples showed on his face, making him look a little boyish. He was fucking pretty, Jesus.

“I’m not even trying to be a good boyfriend here,” Harry chuckled, and I relished on the way the word `boyfriend” sounded out of his lips. So pretty, so fucking pretty. “My folder is called “When Sof’s not around”, and I think we need to fill it up, so I don’t run out of thoughts.”

“Oh, we don’t want that,” I scrunched up my nose and shook my head at him as a smile played on my lips. I was so fucking happy and I couldn’t even figure out why.

“No, we don’t.” The tip of his tongue lapped across his pink lips, and I followed it with my eyes, taking a second or two before I peered up to him again. “I was hoping we could kiss all night,” he said softly. “and maybe I could eat you out by the pool.”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit…”

“You wouldn’t need one, baby,” Harry laughed, a mix of mischief and endearment lacing with it. I couldn’t stop staring at him, and my knees wobbled a bit as he leaned down, bumping our noses together one more time, as the soft brush of his lips against my skin made me shiver.

“Don’t cheat,” I whispered and his soft laugh echoed down in every inch of my body. His lips grazed over my forehead, as he pressed a soft kiss to my skin.

“Ok, baby. We’ll do it your way.”

“Thank you.”

“I think it’s silly, y’know?” He started, pushing me back so he could look at me with his bright green eyes. “We’re just starting, Sof.”

****

I wanted to kiss him.

I looked at him, licking a spoonful of dessert with my head propped on my hand as I listened to him talk, but all I could think of was how much I wanted to lick the trace of chocolate out of his lips.

“Is there something wrong, S?” I noticed there wasn’t much concern in his voice, not like there usually was when he asked me if I was ok. This time, there was a hint of mockery, almost as if he knew exactly what I was thinking and that all I wanted to do was to sit on his lap and press soft kisses from his jaw to his lips.

Fuck.

“No,” I smiled sweetly, cause I wasn’t one to go down without a fight, and I took his hand in mine and pressed it to my lips before I looked at him again.

“Were you distracted?” His smile was turning more devilish as the seconds went by and I felt myself get warm as he leaned closer, his hands dropping to my thigh and pressing softly to it.

He wasn’t gonna win. I was not going to let him.

“Nope,” I said, letting the ‘p’ pop between my lips. “Tell me about your album, I promise I’ll be a grown-up about it.”

“Nice save…” Harry chuckled. “I think you’re gonna like it.”

“I have recently discovered that I’m a very jealous person. I don’t think I’ll like it, but I’ll be happy for you.”

“You shouldn’t be jealous.” A smile tugged on his lips and I felt warm, so warm inside, I couldn’t help but smile as well. “And I think you’re like it, especially since I made a few last-minute changes, against Jeff’s will.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he kept saying I had the guts, the audacity to change the album when we’re about to drop the first single.”

“What changes?” I insisted, because Jeff’s feelings were the least of my concern at the moment.

I wished I could have played it cool. Maybe that would’ve made me look more interesting, aloof, unapproachable, and all those things a girl should be in front of her crush. But my heart was racing and the world was turning chaotic as my head ticked, like a tiny little bomb.

I needed to know.

Tick, tick.

“You’re already sure you’re not gonna like it,” Harry smirked, surely unaware of the mess inside my head. “You might as well wait for it.”

No!!! TIck tick.

“Oh, please, please, pretty please?? What’s the advantage of this if I can’t get a tiny sneak peek?”

“Well, for instance, you get me to cook for you…”

“It was delicious, thank you.”

“And you get me to eat you out at night when you’re not being stubborn and imposing kiss-bans.”

“I like that very much, too,” I giggled, looking at his green eyes as he got just a bit closer, just an inch away from me.

“So it’s not such a bad deal, is it?”

“I guess not.”

“Good.” His bottom lip rolled into his lips and he bit it thoughtfully for a couple of seconds as his eyes kept burning little holes into my soul. That’s how it felt. “Let’s watch a movie, baby. Are there any bans on cuddling?”

“No, not yet.”

His fingers squeezed mine and he got up swiftly from the table, smiling brightly as we covered the few steps to a different room near the pool, where a giant screen awaited for us. There were a bunch of individuals blue chair, blue and velvety, and a larger one, that was meant to comfortably fit two. The room was dark, only lit by the lights coming from the screen, and I followed him blindly until we were sitting side by side. Slowly, we found each other, and as Harry sat against the armchair, I settled between his legs, cuddling up to his chest while his large hand rested on the curve of my waist.

He smelled like a lazy Sunday morning when the rain is lightly tapping on your windows and all you can hear are the chirping birds when still early, so the world hasn’t woken up just yet and you get to focus on that feeling, on the promise of what’s coming.

He also smelled like pasta and chocolate, and I didn’t mind that at all.

He felt soft, comforting, and sweet, but above all, he felt safe. I was safe with him.

And, I struggled for a bit, trying to understand what came next, what was the warmth and giddiness that settled in my tummy every time I looked at him.

“You ok, baby?” Harry asked and I nodded absentmindedly, not ready to let my thoughts go just yet. What was it? “Wanna watch Set It Up?”

“Yeah, whatever you want. your choice.”

“Are you sure you’re ok? You don’t say that often.”

“Oh, shhh, Harry I always do whatever you want.”

“We definitely have different definitions of ‘Whatever Harry wants’” He mused and I propped myself up to look at him, almost suspiciously, almost angry.

“Do we? What do you want?” I asked.

“To kiss you. And for you to stay the night.”

“I have a bed, y’know?” I quirked my eyebrow, looking at him as I had already won the argument.

“Yeah, unfortunately…”

“And we promised we would behave tonight.”

“You can stay in a different room,” he offered. “Or I will.”

“What’s the point then?”

“You won’t have to miss me in the morning…” he shrugged. I laughed out loud, despite my best efforts to look offended. “And I won’t have to miss you.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Love.

He looked a lot like love.

And love looked a lot like him.

***

Harry Styles and Sofia Welsh were out grabbing Fro-yo and I’ll never be as cool as either of them

Yes, I know what you’re gonna say: Are they paying you to write this sh*t? And the answer is yes! someone’s paying me to write this sh*t! Alas, neither Harry nor Sofia is. I wish.

The usually private couple, and bear in mind I am using the word couple loosely here as they haven’t confirmed to be dating, gave the world a glimpse of their relationship as they stepped out in Los Angeles to grab ice-creams and bubble teas, along with friends.

Ever since the rumors of their relationship spread around, the couple has been mostly keeping a low profile - which is not very surprising as Harry Styles is not very open about his personal life since he was a member of One Direction and a large part of his fans believed him to be romantically involved with one of his bandmates (that was a mouthful! And also very true, there has been a lot of conspiracy theories about it)

Sofia, who’s in the middle of an Oscar campaign (and has been showing us just how much designers adore her), sported a pair of leggings, a crop top, and a large blazer, a perfect outfit for the ever-changing LA weather, and looked happy and relaxed as she waited for Harry to get their orders. Both stars took photos with fans and left together in Styles’ classic car…

****

We were made out of good intentions.

We slept together that night and every night after that for an entire week. We didn’t do much, we kissed and cuddled, and spent our mornings lazily together until one of us had to go out to the real world. We even went out and we kept stealing looks and smiles at each other, like two little kids that were too shy in front of their crushes.

Photos were taken. Articles were published. Midge was elated.

Harry’s new single was coming out that night, and there was going to be a party to celebrate it. If it was a hit, they were going to celebrate their success and all the hard work that went into it. It was a flop, and it was not going to flop, they were going to drink for better times ahead.

“Fuck!!!”

I stared at the ceiling, willing my body to move and failing miserably at it as every little muscle in my body contracted painfully. My arms hurt, and my legs felt like they were on fire.

I just needed 5 more minutes before I got up and got ready to leave.

It was day 4 of “my new life” as my trainer liked to call it, and after another lunch of grilled chicken and steamed broccoli, I was ready to quit. I had trained and dieted before for different roles, but this time, I had a feeling she wanted to suck the life out of me. It even made me reconsider if I needed to be in a Marvel Movie. Would Midge kill me if I quit?

“Sof…” The male voice scared me just a little, as I thought I was alone in my house. I turn around just slightly, as much as my tired poor body could handle and smiled as I saw Sam standing by my door. “Can I come in?”

He was holding a tray, with something that looked like a sandwich, coffee, and a glass of water, along with a white bottle of medicine. I nodded, grunting even at the soft movement, and he walked quickly to my bed, setting the tray down before me as he stood awkwardly.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I struggled to ask while I propped myself up and sat criss-cross on my bed. I sounded angry, and maybe I was, why would he bring me a sandwich? It was all I wanted to eat and all I couldn’t eat at the same time.

“I’m off work today, and I wanted to check on you. Cat told me you’ve been feeling under the weather. I called your mom and she told me you should “just eat a sandwich and take an aspirin”, so here they are,” he said, offering me a childish smile as he pointed the tray with a little too much joy.

“I can’t eat a sandwich,” I sulked. “And I need to get ready, I have to go to Harry’s.”

“You can eat a sandwich. And he can wait 5 minutes, you’re always there.”

I realized we hadn’t talked about the kiss, not really. I avoided being alone with him, and whenever the occasion presented itself, Sam would go out of the room, giving me space and maybe waiting for me to be the first one to reach out. I had never done that. Honestly, I didn’t think I would.

“You’re right, Sammy,” I said, picking the sandwich in my hands and noticing that he had already cut the crust off. “Thank you.”

It was weird between us, tense and quiet, and I didn’t like it. I bit into the bread looking at an empty spot on the wall as I waited for him to say something. Anything, I would take it. But Sam remained silent, pressing his palms on his thighs as he went to get up.

“Sam,” I called for him and I smiled shyly when he finally turned around. He took his time, though, and for a moment there, I was scared he was going to leave. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what you want to hear when someone you like kisses you.”

“I shouldn’t have…”

“Did you want to?”

“Yes,” I breathed and I realized I wasn't lying. I did want to kiss him, there was no use in denying that.

I put the sandwich down on the plate and moved closer to Sam until I could see the golden freckles that were hidden in his light brown eyes.

“Do you remember that night when you came through my window and stayed the night with me?”

“Yeah, I heard your dad scream, and I wanted to be there in case…”

“I know, Sam. I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since then,” I admitted and he kept staring at me as if he was considering what his next move would be. Would he kiss me? Did I want him to kiss me?

“You’re not being fair to me, Sof.”

“I know. You haven’t been fair to me either, but here we are.”

There was a moment of panic, cause for a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. He leaned over me and I held my breath as I looked at him, not able to stop him just yet. But as his lips brushed over my forehead, I closed my eyes, smiling as he pulled away from me.

“Eat the fucking sandwich, Sof,” he replied and it wasn’t enough. I took his hand before he could leave and I licked my lips, peering up to him with something more than just fear pressing up to my chest.

“Are we good?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess we’ll talk about it again when he gets back with his ex.”

That was a low blow, and we both knew it, but I just stayed quiet as he left the room, wondering if I deserved it.

****

It took me a while to get ready, so I was late for Harry’s party. I went straight to the pool, where a large screen had been set up and the new video seemed to be on a loop. I couldn’t find Harry anywhere, but at the same, he was all I could see. I stared at the screen, looking at his golden skin as he was surrounded by the adoring crowd, at the way they kept touching and the expression on his face as he leaned into them. The song didn’t even matter, cause all I could focus on was his stupidly beautiful green eyes.

I mean, I had watched his videos before. I had seen him fly through the sky and be surrounded by kids, but this was different. Those were entertaining and beautiful, and I felt the emotion in my tummy simply because it was him, and somehow, just seeing him made me happy. But in this one he meant to capture your attention and a little bit of your soul. He wanted to be desired and to be free along the way. And it was such a fucking sexy video.

I lost count of how many times I allowed myself to watch the video, but it was probably too many times. After a while, I decided it was time to look for the real Harry, who was still nowhere to be seen, so I left the pool, smiling and greeting everyone as I passed by.

I hoped he was alone, cause I wanted to fucking kiss him like no one else was looking. I wanted to tell him how lovely, talented, and amazing he was. I was going to kiss him a lot and praise him, it couldn’t get better than that.

I looked for him in the living room, where a small crowd was throwing back cocktails and beers and went out to the front door, where people were lounging about, a bit drunkenly. But he wasn’t anywhere, and I was starting to feel uneasy.

It took me more than a few minutes to make my way to his room because people kept getting in my way. I did my best to smile and engage in silly conversations about nothing, but my heart was growing heavy and my brain was too anxious to even remember if I had succeeded.

I heard him talk even before I stood by his door. I couldn’t quite tell what he was saying or who he was talking to, but I noticed that his words were a little bit slurred, and his accent dripped thick in his low voice. The door was slightly ajar and I pushed it open and stood by the frame as I saw him talking on the phone. He had his back to me, so he didn’t notice that I had arrived, not that it mattered.

“C, you’re drunk,” I heard him say and I wished he had just said a different name. “No...I know I told you it was just a PR relationship...Cause I need time to figure out...Really, C? Wanna know if I still love you? You’re not being fair...” The last part came out as a dry laugh, and I knew I had to leave, it was rude and inappropriate, but, most importantly, it was breaking my fucking heart. But my feet seemed like they were made out of cement, and my legs had chosen that moment to numb out of pain. So, I was still standing there when he turned around, and probably saw the tears that were threatening to spill down my eyes.

I wanted to know the answer too. Could I know it? It’d save us a lot of pain.

“Bye, C.”

He dropped his phone to the bed and I looked at him as he walked quickly to me. He looked flustered and worried, but it all seemed so distant, that it didn’t matter.

“Baby,” Harry said, but that wasn’t my name. Did her call her baby too? He probably did, he was a ‘baby’ kind of guy. “Are you ok?”

“Yes, I was looking for you cause I wanted to check if you wanted me to post something on Instagram,” I lied. “D already drafted a tweet, it’s really simple.”

“Sof, how much did you hear?”

“Nothing. I’m gonna get a couple of photos and uh, I’m gonna go home, I think I need a rest day.”

His hand went to grab mine, but before he could do it, I turned and walked away rushing down the stairs until I could get lost in the crowd.

Fair? None of us was being fair.

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry writing #hs #writing #I'm gonna post this cause I may never post it otherwise!#Please lemme know if you read it and if you liked it!

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saiilorstars · 4 years ago

Text

Running Home

// Companion to Dare To Forget Me //

Pairing: Rafael Barba x OFC

Summary: It’s nearly Christmas and Rafael has the unfortunate duty to tell Montserrat he won’t be making it home in time. How Montserrat takes it is just as he predicted. The only question is, will he really not make it home?

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet @perfectlystiles @averyhotchner

A/N: Just some angst/fluff one shot! And of course, it's an AU! You'll understand why as you read ;)

Montserrat's laughter filled her living room to the point that, in the end, she had to cover her mouth. "I didn't know it was possible for you to be funny," she remarked to someone on her laptop. She shifted on the couch to better adjust the computer over her lap. "Especially as soon as we start the chat."

"I can do many things, Montserrat. You know that." Rafael was on the other side of the video chat. He was smiling at her through the screen. She looked absolutely comfortable in her spot, making him wish he was there with her instead of...where he was now.

Montserrat lowered her head, her lips curving into a smirk. "Oh, I know." She reached for something off screen and had Rafael laugh when she waved a nice glass of red wine. "Don't you wish you were here with me right now? I've got the heater on, my blanket," she gestured to the polka-dotted turquoise blanket covering her legs, "Your bottle of wine..." she sighed heavily, and dramatically too.

"I'm going to need that refilled by the way," Rafael warned her.

Montserrat laughed. "We'll see." She shifted again while she sobered from her laugh. "So, how's Iowa treating you? Can't imagine they're more in the Christmas spirit than dear ole New York is, right?"

Rafael bobbed his head. "You'd be surprised. It's different but...yeah. I'm just trying to blend in, honestly."

"Mm, and you think blending in means growing a beard," Montserrat leaned closer to the screen. She couldn't get enough of him right now but he didn't need to know that.

"I'm in Iowa," he repeated, thinking that was enough of an explanation. "Is it that terrible?"

Montserrat found it incredibly hard to stay on the plan of teasing. She leaned back and pretended to think about the question. "Well..."

"Montserrat."

She sighed in the end. "Of course not. I like it, of course I like it." She admitted. She liked when he started with the scruff—did he seriously think she wouldn't like what came next? For such a smart man, he was an idiot sometimes. She was just thankful (just for that one minute) that they were miles apart so he wouldn't see the blush on her face.

Rafael smirked. "There we are. You see how much easier this whole marriage thing works when you're honest?"

Montserrat rolled her eyes at him. "God, I married a smartass," she muttered, making him laugh. She smiled slightly. She missed their bantering so much. "Tell me it's Friday already," she said calmly. "Because when it's Friday, you'll be here with us."

There was something on Rafael's face that she couldn't yet describe but whatever it was, it had something to do with guilt. "Uh, about that..." he started, "I don't think I'll be home by Friday."

"What?" Montserrat frowned. She put her glass on the table then brought her laptop closer to her. "What do you mean? It's Christmas. You said you'd be back before then."

"I know but things change all the time. I'm sorry—"

"Rafael, you've been gone for a month!"

"I know—"

"No! You don't know. You've been gone for all of December! That's not just any month, Raf, especially when you have a da—"

"Montserrat, why are you acting like I don't want to come home!?" Rafael snapped at her, resulting in her momentary silence. "Of course I want to come home. It's like you said, it's Christmas. I want to be there instead of...here!" He exclaimed with a flap of his arms to gesture to the grim room he was in at the moment.

"You've already missed buying the Christmas tree, decorating it. We're waiting for you to come home and help put the star on top. You've missed out on everything but it was going to be okay because you were going to come home for Christmas." Montserrat looked to the side, very much huffing with anger. "You want to explain that to her?"

"Don't do that," Rafael warned. "Don't you dare use her—"

"I'm not!" snapped Montserrat. "But you know she's been waiting for you. We want you here," she said softly. Of course she wasn't angry with him. He wasn't in charge of the schedule but if she wasn't angry with him, where should her anger and disappointment go then?

"I'm really sorry," Rafael told her. What he would give to be there with her, cuddling with her under their favorite blanket and with their special wine.

"Yeah," Montserrat mumbled. "Merry Christmas." She ended the call right there and then, shutting her laptop with a thud. She grabbed her glass of wine from the table and drowned it all in one go. Just as she had returned the glass to the table, she heard a door in the hallway open followed by a quick sprinting of feet.

"Mama!" A little five year old girl came rushing into the living room, her floppy brunette hair making a curtain over her face when she hopped onto the couch.

Montserrat was caught off guard and thanked the heavens that her wine was all gone. Of course now she hoped she hadn't overdone it. She could not be drunk in front of her own daughter. "You're supposed to be asleep!"

The little girl giggled. "I tricked you!"

"Tricked—no! You don't trick your mother! If I say go to sleep, then you go to sleep!"

The girl smirked in an all too familiar way. Montserrat pinched the bridge of her nose. At her five years, Iris Barba-Novak was a near carbon copy of her father.

"I swear to God," Montserrat dropped her hands to her lap and mock-glared at her daughter. "I carried you for 9 months and you have the audacity not to look like me!?"

"I'm sorry," Iris shrugged her shoulders, acting as if she fully understood what her mother had said. "Maybe if you give me a little brother or sister, they'll look like you?"

Montserrat pointed a sharp finger at her. "We are not talking about that young lady."

Iris groaned the way only a five year old did when she wasn't getting her way. "But it's what I want for Christmas!"

"I know, you put it in your letter," Montserrat mumbled under her breath. She didn't have a good laugh with it like Rafael had when she read the letter to him.

"Santa always gets me what I want so I know that he'll get me this too!"

"No he will not," Montserrat once more mumbled under her breath. "But you, missy, have to go to sleep for real now!"

Iris made a face. "But I wanted to talk to Daddy. I know you were talking to him. You were laughing loud."

"I'm sorry sweetheart, but he, uh, had to go." Or she might have sent him on his way, who could remember.

"Aww," Iris pouted. "Is he going to be here for my recital?"

"Um..."

"Because he said he would be," Iris went on, her delicate green eyes flickering to the Christmas tree whose ornaments were mostly comprised of ballerina figurines. She got to choose the theme this year and she was very proud of it. "And he has to help me put the star on the tree!"

"Uh, Iris..." Montserrat reached for the girl and brought her to her lap. Iris was quick to grab the blanket and drape it over her and her mother. "Daddy might not make it home for Christmas this year."

"What?" Iris tilted her head up at her. "Why not?"

"It's his job..."

"Again?" Iris huffed. "But that always happens! He promised me he was going to be here for my recital!"

"I know, I know," Montserrat hugged her tighter. She pressed a kiss over Iris' hair. "But hey, you know I'll be there. And grandpa, uncle Gael, your cousins..."

"But I want my Daddy," Iris huffed. She buried her face in her mother's chest.

"I'll record everything and send it to him," Montserrat offered.

"It won't be the same."

Montserrat sighed. No, it wouldn't be the same and she knew it too. "I'm really sorry, Iris." She could only offer useless apologies and promises of videos and pictures. It wouldn't make much of a difference for Iris but Montserrat would try her best. She always did when it came to her daughter.

~ 0 ~

It was the 23rd of December: Christmas Eve Eve as Iris had declared that morning when she woke Montserrat up with excited bouncing on the bed. Montserrat had the day off from work specifically to cater to Iris that day since it would be her recital that evening.

"Is Daddy going to call today?" Iris asked after lunch while she helped her mother clean the table up.

"Um, I'm not sure sweetheart," Montserrat said, making a quick rush for the kitchen sink to dump the dirty dishes in. "He's working, remember?"

"But he can't call for just a tiny bit?" Iris held her index finger and thumb inches apart from each other. "Teeny-tiny bit?"

Montserrat half-smiled at her. "I'm sure he would if he could. You need to take a bath. Go to your room and I'll be there in a bit."

Iris shrugged and hurried for the living room. Montserrat returned to the table to pick up the last of the utensils. She glanced at her phone sitting on the counter. It hadn't rang with a call nor a text from Rafael ever since their argument a few days ago. She supposed it was on her to call him and apologize. She'd been the one to snap. He wasn't calling his daughter because of her and that was the last thing Montserrat ever wanted. Plus, it was nearly Christmas. Would they really not say a 'Merry Christmas' to each other?

Montserrat shook her head. "What am I doing?" she whispered to herself. She left the utensils on the table and grabbed her phone from the counter top.

'Can we talk, please? Iris and I want to video chat.'

She had just sent the text when Iris called her from the hallway.

"Moooooommy! Am I going to take a bath or not?"

Montserrat left her phone on the table and hurried for the hallway. "Yes, of course!" Making a five year old take a bath on a schedule was hard enough. Montserrat would need all her focus and determination to do it. She managed to get Iris out in half an hour and only after fighting her on it.

She was far too much like her father, always making arguments.

"Seriously, you have the audacity here," Montserrat muttered after finally convincing Iris to put on some pajamas while she dried her hair. Her ballerina costume would get wet otherwise.

"I want my hair brushed in here!" Iris had come running into her parents' room.

Montserrat followed her in with a brush in hand. "Assume the position munchkin." Iris giggled as she climbed up on the bed and sat cross-legged. Montserrat sat behind her and started brushing her wet hair.

"Mommy, is Daddy going to call now?" Iris eventually asked.

Montserrat inwardly sighed. She had checked her phone but Rafael hadn't answered. He hadn't even read the text. Was he that angry? Even if he was, he was angry at her. Iris should have nothing to do with it. "Not yet, sweetheart."

Iris sighed and Montserrat could see her pout from the mirror across from them. "I really wanted to talk to him. He's not coming to my recital, is he?"

"I don't think he is, Iris. I'm sorry." Montserrat hated watching the disappointment etch across her daughter's face. She put the brush down for a second and pulled Iris on her lap. "But remember what Mama's gonna do? She's going to record everything and send it to Daddy."

Iris shrugged her shoulders. "Do you think he'll have time to watch it?"

Montserrat may have felt her heart crack a bit with that question. "Of course he will, he always makes time for you." She should've remembered that the last time she talked with him. They both led very busy lives because of their jobs, they understood each other because they worked in the same system, but when Iris was born they both swore that she was now their first priority. Their jobs never mattered more than her. Of course there would be moments that they couldn't control and they had to understand that.

You don't go snapping at him, she berated herself. How she wished Rafael would call so she could apologize.

~ 0 ~

There was an hour left before they had to leave for the recital. Iris was all set up to go—she was twirling in her bedroom for the imaginary audience she'd set up with her stuffed animals. Montserrat promised they would leave soon.

"I have to make sure grandpa has the right address or he'll get lost," she said, making Iris giggle. "I'll go call him. Don't touch your hair nor your face, do you understand?" Iris stopped twirling to dutifully nod her head but Montserrat was no fool to believe her straightaway. She learned that one the hard way. "Iris, you listen to Mommy on this. Do not touch your hair and face."

"Yes, Mommy," Iris nodded again. Montserrat pointed at her with sharp eyes. Iris upheld that look until Montserrat walked away. Iris then sprinted towards the door and poked her head into the hallway. Once she saw her mother heading into the living room, she closed her door and turned for her audience with a big grin.

In the living room, Montserrat settled the details of the recital's address with her father over the phone. "Please be on time," she begged him.

Thomas laughed. "Miss my granddaughter's recital? Never! We'll be there, promise."

"Thanks," Montserrat said.

"Is Rafael there yet?"

"Uh, no," Montserrat sighed. "He couldn't make it. Actually, he's not going to be around for Christmas."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah," Montserrat nodded. No one was more sorry than her, she could promise it. "We'll meet you at the recital in a few. I have to go make sure she didn't do something to her face."

Thomas chuckled. "Would serve you right for doing that to me all the time. You always say Iris looks and acts like Rafael, but she's a lot like you too."

Montserrat rolled her eyes but for the sake of time, she would let the comment slide. "Bye, Dad." She ended the call afterwards and soon went to check if she had any missed calls or texts.

Nothing.

"Raf, c'mon," she begged. If he wasn't responding to her texts then what hope did she have of him answering her call? She wouldn't be able to take it if Iris was right beside her when she made the call and he didn't answer.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the doorknob of the front door jiggled. She flinched but her instincts (whether motherly or just cop instincts) kicked in. She hurried to the high bookcase near the television. She had just grabbed their emergency gun when the door opened.

"What the hell are you doing, Montserrat?" Of all the ways Rafael expected to be greeted, his wife aiming a gun on him wasn't on the list. "Are you that mad with me?"

Montserrat blinked with wide eyes, truly caught like a deer in headlights. "What the—what are you doing here!?" Her eyebrows knitted together as her eyes narrowed on him.

"Seriously!?" He frowned. "You're asking me that? I live here and would you put that gun down!?" Montserrat realized she was still aiming the gun on him and quickly lowered it down. "God, you know I hate having that thing in here." Rafael reached outside the door to pull his suitcase inside.

"Well, let me know when you stop being a lawyer and I stop being a detective," Montserrat quipped sarcastically. "You know I don't want to ever be caught off guard with my daughter in the apartment. If someone breaks in, they're going to get a bullet." She turned away to return the gun to its safe spot. It was then that she made the connection of his presence. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Iowa."

"Yeah, well, my daughter has a recital I promised her I would go to," Rafael said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"But you said you wouldn't be back in time..."

"I made it, that's all that matters," he said a bit too quickly. Montserrat set her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing on him until he explained himself. With a sigh, he did. "Maybe I got into some arguments, maybe I have to stay an extra week, who cares. I'm here."

Montserrat's face softened with the realization of his troubles. "I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to get in trouble."

"Of course you didn't. It's not your fault," Rafael said, leaving behind his suitcase to walk up to her. "I had to see my daughter...and my wife." His hands raised to cup her face but since he had no idea if she was still angry with him, his hands stopped inches from her.

Montserrat smiled at him and nodded. His hands came to rest on her cheeks. "I texted you," she said.

"I'm sorry, as soon as I got the green light I headed for the airport to find the first flight here. My phone's out of battery."

"How long are you here for?"

"Umm, let's discuss that later, yeah?"

Montserrat nodded. "Okay."

Rafael looked her over with fondness. She was all dressed up in a long black and white flower patterned dress with black boots. "You look amazing," he told her, sounding almost breathless that she had to laugh.

"I miss your dramatics," she admitted.

"Not dramatic, mi vida," he planted a kiss on her lips. "Simply a truth."

Montserrat's smile softened. "Mm, is that my Christmas kiss? Because I have some complaints about the duration..."

Rafael laughed and brought his arms around her waist. He pulled her up to him and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "I promise to make it up to you tonight."

Montserrat's eyebrows raised with delight. "So you're definitely here for a day at least..."

"One could say that." He leaned close to her for another kiss, a longer one that really made it hard not to forget they had important plans. "God, you have no idea how much I want you right now."

Montserrat flushed a bright red. She couldn't help the small giggle that slipped through her lips. Rafael muffled that giggle with another kiss that she happily responded to. "What happened to the beard?" She took note of the scruff that he now sported.

"I got over it," Rafael shrugged. "But like I said, I was in a rush these last days, so..."

"I still love it," Montserrat draped her arms over his shoulders and leaned on him.

"Duly noted..."

Montserrat chuckled and kissed him again. They only had a limit time before they were interrupted...

"Mama!" Iris' call promptly interrupted them.

There it was.

"Mama!"

The two pulled away the necessary amount to look at each other.

"One of my sparkles fell!"

Montserrat took in a breath then jabbed her finger on Rafael's chest. "Your daughter is going to kill me."

Rafael laughed. "Hold on," he gave her another kiss before calling back, "It's a good thing Mamá always has more!"

Montserrat shoved him away from her with an irritated huff. "Don't encourage her!"

Iris had flung the door of her bedroom open to come zooming out of the hallway. "Daddy!" she made it to the living room in record time.

"Mi flor! My flower!" Rafael opened his arms for her to jump in like she always did when he came home from work. Iris happily did and was subjected to several kisses on her face. "Look at you...all sparkly and...puffy!" The tutu was something he would never get over because she simply looked too adorable in it.

"You're here!" Iris exclaimed. "Daddy's here, Mommy!"

"Yeah, I've noticed," Montserrat chuckled. "Isn't it a nice surprise?"

Iris frowned for a second, puzzling her parents until she pointed an accusing finger at Montserrat. "Did you trick me?"

"What—no!" Montserrat huffed. "He surprised us, sweetheart. He came back for your recital."

"And Christmas," Rafael clarified, earning himself a happy squeal from the child in his arms.

"You're going to be here when I open my presents!?"

"Mhm, and when you open my present." He bopped her nose and earned a giggle in return. All arguments to get here made perfect sense.

Iris' eyes widened until they couldn't. "But if you brought me a present, you have to buy one for Mommy too."

"You think I didn't?" Rafael reigned offence.

Montserrat playfully rolled her eyes at the pair. "I don't need presents," she reminded them. She reached over for one of his hands and squeezed it tight. "I just wanted you home."

"I'm sorry for the last time we talked..." Rafael started but she shook her head.

"It's not important," she said. "I forgot that sometimes things are just out of our control, but you always try for us...for her." She made a nod over to Iris. "That's what we promised to do."

"Daddy, can you help me put the star on the tree now?" Iris asked. She was already wiggling her body so he would put her down to go get the star.

"Of course, where is it?" Rafael watched her dash into the hallway. At his questioning look, Montserrat explained that Iris wanted to keep the star in a safe spot in her room until he came back. The last thing she wanted was for Santa to get confused and put the star himself. Rafael laughed at the antic.

Iris returned with the star in her hands. "I got it!"

"Come on over," Rafael once again picked her up and walked up to the tree. Montserrat was right behind them and watched fondly as Iris was propped up on Rafael's shoulders to reach the top of the tree.

The star eventually twinkled to life. Iris squealed. "It's so pretty!"

"Okay, we have to go to the recital now," Montserrat helped Iris off her father. "Unless you don't want to do it anymore...?"

Iris shook her head. "Nu-uh! It's the Nutcracker and I love that movie. But now Mommy doesn't have to record for you, Daddy." She reached for Rafael's hands excitedly. "Because you're going to be there!"

"Maybe I'll still record," Montserrat said, throwing a glance at Rafael when she added, "Grandma Lucia and Catalina can't make it."

"Oh yes, we'll definitely need to record," Rafael concluded. His mother would kill him if they didn't record her only grandchild's ballet recital.

"Iris, come here." Montserrat sighed when Iris came up to her with a few strands of hair sticking out already. She bent down in front of Iris to try and fix them. "Were you touching your hair?"

"No," Iris made a face that didn't exactly help her make her case.

"Mhm, you're not quite the lawyer yet," Montserrat tapped Iris' forehead before trying to stick a strand down with one of her pins.

"But she will be," Rafael said with a smug smirk. He loved watching Iris argue to make her cases about the simplest of things. It was a sight watching her battle against adults. She often had goes with her mother and those were usually the best because Montserrat swore Iris was him. She had a short fuse when it came to those cases but she typically would let Iris go on until she ran out of things to say.

"C'mon Iris, stop touching your hair, okay?" Montserrat pressed her hands over Iris' hair for any last strands trying to stick up.

"Okay, Mama," Iris said with a soft smile on her face.

That right there was what Rafael loved seeing the most. Iris was hard headed like him but her mother always calmed her down. Montserrat always had a way with her that nobody else did, not even him. Iris loved her and even though she loved making arguments like him, she loved being like her mother. She loved dancing with her mother, making those overwhelming ballerina costumes with her, and so much more.

"Hey Iris," he called to her suddenly, "Why don't you open my present right now?"

Iris gasped. "I can open a present right now?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Montserrat straightened up on her feet. "She might get too excited..."

"It's alright," Rafael promised her. "I actually think she needs it." He reached for something in his coat's inside pockets. Iris was quick to scurry up to him. She bounced on her feet in anticipation. "I'm sorry I didn't have time to wrap it," Rafael said once he pulled out a small black box. He bent down in front of Iris, holding the box out for her. "Go ahead and open it."

Iris couldn't get it any faster. She swiped the box from his hands and yanked the lid open. "It's like Mommy's!" she squealed at the ballerina necklace inside. It was on a silver chain with a pendant of a ballerina posing on the end. Iris turned around to show Montserrat the ballerina necklace that was almost like the one currently sitting on Montserrat's neck. "Look Mommy, it's like your necklace!"

"Yes it is," Montserrat chuckled. Iris always went on about her mother's necklace, sometimes even trying to sneak it to her own neck.

"You can wear it for your recital," Rafael suggested.

Iris spun around to him. "Can I?"

"Come here," Rafael motioned her to get closer so he could put it on her.

Iris happily obliged and handed him the box back. She turned around with the biggest grin on her face. Montserrat laughed at the sight.

"Look Mommy, Daddy's putting on my ballerina necklace just like he did with yours on your birthday!" Iris exclaimed.

Montserrat's eyes widened slightly. "Yup." She crossed gazes with Rafael behind Iris. They had told their daughter only the nice parts of that night for a reason.

"There we go," Rafael announced. Iris turned to face him. "It's looks beautiful."

Iris held the ballerina figure in her small fingers. "I'm never taking this off! Mommy never does."

"Well, she does sometimes," Montserrat pointed out. "So Iris will do the same."

"Did you see what's on the back of the ballerina?" Rafael suddenly asked Iris.

Curiously, she tilted the pendant up to see the back of it. She giggled. 'I.M' was engraved on the back. "My name."

"Your initials," Rafael corrected. "So that everybody knows that this is yours."

"Iris Montserrat," she said proudly. "Mommy's name." She glanced back at Montserrat with what she would describe the most adorable smile a five year old could have.

"Exactly," Rafael cupped her face, careful not to even graze the sparkles adorning her cheekbones. "You have a special name and I wanted that to be on your necklace."

"My initials are backwards from Mommy's," Iris said, proud that she remembered that. "Because Mommy's middle name is Irene so her initials are M.I and mine are I.M."

"I have such a smart girl," Rafael praised and kissed her forehead. "Now," he straightened up on his feet and met Montserrat's gaze. "I do have a present for my smart wife...if she's interested..."

Montserrat fiddled with her fingers. "She might be..."

"What is it!? What is it!?" Iris exclaimed, her head flipping between her parents.

"She'll have to open it." Rafael pulled out a second black box from his inside pocket.

"What? Were they were having a 2 for 1 special?" Montserrat snickered, especially when his face fell flat. "Kidding," she walked over to him and took the box from him. She pulled the lid open and found a a golden bracelet inside with one oval shaped pendant. "This is beautiful, Raf." She gingerly pulled the bracelet from the box and realized the pendant was a locket instead. When she opened it up, their favorite family picture was staring up at her. She laughed. "Oh, now this is good. I love it, thank you." She leaned over and kissed him.

"I'm glad you liked it," Rafael said. "I really did have all intentions of coming back before Christmas. I'm sorry for the argument."

"Forget about it," Montserrat practically begged him. "I love this so much, and you."

"I wanna see what it is," Iris hopped beside them in hopes of catching a glimpse of the locket.

Montserrat chuckled and lowered the bracelet for her to see. "It's a picture of us. A family picture."

"That's so pretty!" Iris gawked. "Are you going to wear it?"

"Absolutely," Montserrat nodded. "Will you help me?" she looked at Rafael with a pout to match.

"Of course." He took her bracelet and wrapped it around her wrist. His fingers gently caressed her skin as he snapped the bracelet together. He brought her hand to his lips for a kiss afterwards.

Montserrat smiled. "I'm really glad you're here."

"Me too," he said. He snaked an arm around her waist to bring her to his side. "Are we ready to go, then?"

"Yes!" Iris jumped excitedly.

"Get your coat, Iris," Montserrat instructed. Iris nodded and rushed for her room to retrieve the coat. "She's really happy now, thank you," Montserrat mused. "So, exactly how much trouble are you in for fighting your way back here?"

Rafael pressed a kiss on her cheek. "Don't worry about it. On an unrelated note, how do you feel about spending New Year's in Iowa?"

Montserrat raised an eyebrow at him. "Seriously?" She was ready to laugh but not for the reason he thought.

"I had to make the deal," he sighed. "I have to leave the 26th and I'll be spending New Year's there. I know it's boring and it's far—"

Montserrat leaned forwards and gave him a long, deep kiss. "I would love to," she whispered to him afterwards.

"Seriously?"

She nodded. "You made the compromise to get back here in time for Iris. I can do the same for you. I'm sure Liv wouldn't mind. The newbie can take my paperwork for a few days."

He chuckled. "That...that would be great. You're really good with this?"

"Spending New Year's with my husband and daughter?" Montserrat bobbed her head. "Yeah, call me crazy but I think that sounds great."

"Mama, I got it!" Iris came back in a hurry. Her coat was lopsided on her body but she'd put it on all on her own.

"Yeah you do," Montserrat laughed. "C'mon then."

Iris made her way up to her parents in a series of hops. She held her hands out for them to go. Rafael picked her up on his side while Montserrat grabbed her own coat.

"You're staying for the whole show, right?"

Rafael nodded. "I promise. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Iris beamed and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Mama, are you ready?"

"Yes, yes, Mama's always the last to be ready because she makes sure everyone else is ready to go first," Montserrat dramatically sighed. "It's hard to look this good when you're on a tight schedule."

"And yet you always beautiful," Rafael said, holding his hand out for her to take.

"Flattery will get you..." Montserrat leaned close to his ear to whisper, "...everywhere."

Rafael smirked and grabbed her hand. "Let's go, girls."

Author's Note:

Yes folks I went with a cringy Christmasy angst/fluff one shot that includes one cute kid. What can I say? I'm a sucker for an OC kid.

And listen, I firmly believe that Rafael learned how not to hold his kid like a football after practice okay?

#ocappreciation #svu #rafael barba #fd: svu #svu imagines #rafael barba imagines #svu fics #rafael barba fics #oc: Montserrat Novak

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thehikingviking · 4 years ago

Text

Cerro El Pital y El Picacho, The High Points of El Salvador and San Salvador

It took me 16 years, but I finally decided to return to my mother’s home country of El Salvador. The main purpose behind the trip was to introduce my new born son to my grandpa, but it wouldn’t be right to not hike several mountains while down there. I convinced Zach to fly down with my family, and he would be my hiking partner for most of the trip. He also joined on our previous trip to Guatemala, and had climbed a couple of volcanoes with me down there as well. I used Nahuat Tours as my guide service; they would arrange transport and the local guides when needed. There were some last minute complications due to the national election, which caused us to change our itinerary at the last minute, and while this would add some extra driving, the key objectives on my trip were still attainable. We planned to first climb Cerro El Pital in the morning, followed by El Picacho in the afternoon. Both were short hikes, so the challenge would be the long drive and dealing with the many unknowns of this developing country.

We were picked up at Cadedeu Residence at Lago de Coatepeque before sunrise. We first drove through San Salavdor and then up towards La Palma. We followed a steep but paved road up to Rio Chiquito.

Our driver Eric parked at a dirt lot along Calle El Pital. We could have driven further, but we were here to hike and were already less than 2 miles from the summit. From here Gerardo would show us the way to the summit. Shortly after starting out, I noticed a snake that was run over by a vehicle, reminding me that it’s probably best to stay on the cleared path. Shortly after we reached the park boundaries where Gerardo paid our entrance fees.

I was told to pack warm gear, as this is the coldest place in the country, but I found myself sweating profusely.

At the top of the road, Gerardo started taking us towards the lower southeast summit. I immediately objected, stating that the northwestern summit was higher. He agreed, but for some reason was hesitant to go further. He stated that he wasn’t sure how to get there, and said he would go ask someone. My stress levels skyrocketed, as failing on this easy peak was my worst nightmare. Gerardo came back confirming that there was a way to the summit, but that we shouldn’t follow the road. I learned later that Gerardo had been attacked by a dog along this same road on a previous trip. We instead dropped down to a grassy field at the saddle between the main peak and the false summit.

We followed a foot path that passed next to some buildings. Many homes were in the process of being built, and I expect this area to look much different in a few years. We popped out back onto the original road, and with the threat of the barking dog behind us, we continued upwards. The views opened up as we climbed higher, and it appeared that we were the only ones visiting the summit that day. We followed the main road all the way to the summit structure, where there were several guard dogs barking at us ravenously.

They were locked within the gate, so I paid them no heed. I found the benchmark embedded in a small concrete pedestal just to the left of the building.

To the east was Honduras.

To the south-southeast was Chinchontepec, also known as San Vincente Volcano.

To the south-southwest were El Picacho and El Boquerón, also known as San Salvador Volcano.

I had expected to find armed guards at the summit, but we were the only ones around. I guessed that all police were being mobilized elsewhere in preparation for the elections the following day.

As this was also the border of Honduras, I took the liberty to walk into the aforementioned country. I did a small loop through the forest, checking another country off my list.

We hung out at the summit for a while, enjoying the peaceful and temperate setting.

We started back down the road once we were satisfied. The cacophony of barking started up again as we passed by the building, but soon we were beyond the nuisance.

We stopped along the way to visit a second benchmark that also marked the border between El Salvador and Honduras. This was in the middle of some crops so we gingerly walked around it.

Once back at the saddle, I could finally relax and enjoy the great views.

We considered exploring a potential bonus rock, but at the end decided against it. We couldn’t see any worthy rock outcropping from our vantage point, and I didn’t see anything on my satellite view. Instead we had brunch at one of the restaurants consisting of pupusas and coffee. We found Eric waiting for us at the top of the road when we finished, and we began our drive back down to La Palma where we stopped to buy some souvenirs.

After another long drive we arrived at the trailhead for El Picacho. There was no information of this hike online, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Here we met our local guide Chico at a roadside pupuseria at the saddle between El Picacho and El Boquerón. We started up a local trail through a coffee plantation.

-El Picacho

We hiked at an aggressive pace. Chico took the lead with his machete in hand. He would stop from time to time to tell me the local folklore, which really interested me. La Siguanaba was apparently seen in this area. This shapeshifter is viewed as an attractive woman who is often seen bathing in the river. She invites enticed men to come bathe with her, but as soon as they come close enough, she turns her head and reveals her terrifying face, which is sometimes depicted as a horse or a skull. The terrifying sight makes the men go crazy. This story is most likely used to deter unfaithful men from drinking and chasing other women. Often accompanying La Siguanaba is El Cipitio, her baby with a round belly and big sombrero. He doesn’t do much aside from throw flowers at women’s feet, but he seems to creep out many Salvadoran woman, including my mother. Chico then told me about El Gritón de la Medianoche, which translates to the yell of the middle of the night. This creature is apparently a very tall man with a mouth like a trumpet who screams incredibly loud. When he is far away, his scream seems to be coming from nearby. I found this fascinating as this is somewhat similar to North American bigfoot mythology; a tall humanoid screaming though the forest in the night.

Chico stopped to show us some coffee beans growing alongside the trail.

Gerardo explained how the beans can be prepared. Some European countries prefer the beans with the husk, while American coffee companies prefer the beans without. The beans are typically left in the sun to dry for a few weeks before they are exported. Gerardo then instructed us to suck on the bean, and we tasted the natural honey flavor from within the husk.

I’m not much of a coffee drinker so most of the dialogue went in one ear and out the other, but I think the average cafephile would find it quite interesting.

I took note of a pointy peak along the coast, which I believe was El Peñon de Comasagua.

We reached a trail junction along the ridge where we also found an abandoned battery. Apparently these fortifications were not utilized much during the civil war as the Guerrillas never really contested this territory.

We stopped at a clearing where we had great views of San Salvador below.

-Chinchontepec y Lago de Ilopango

I found a rope swing here, and it felt appropriate to risk my life on it.

Chico then climbed a tree and cut off a plant with his machete. I still don’t know why.

We continued along the trail, walking past a tree stand. I don’t think this was used for hunting animals.

As we followed the trail underneath the eastern side of the peak, we heard a high pitched sound somewhere up ahead. I at first thought it was a bird, but as I listened more closely, it was someone squawking, “Ay loco, ay loco.” Chico immediately stopped and motioned us to be silent. He went off ahead by himself, machete in hand. I was very concerned for the few seconds he was gone. Upon his return he stated, “No te preocupes, solo es un bolito,” or “Don’t worry, it’s only a little drunk.” We continued forward, and just off the trail below us in a thicket was the bolito, yapping to himself. They say that the homemade moonshine brewed here makes people hallucinate and gives many young people sepsis. Or perhaps he simply saw La Siguanaba.

The trail eventually led to a road, which we followed a short distance to the radio structure at the top.

Again my stress skyrocketed. There was a watchperson, several guard dogs and a fence surrounding the radio facility. No trespassing signs were posted along the gate. We asked the watchperson if we could continue to the top, but he denied us, stating that there were security cameras throughout the summit complex.

I was disappointed to say the least, so I went to the highest legally accessible point and snapped a photo.

I stood there for a while, but there was no way around it. In my mind, I tried to justify the failure as a valiant effort nonetheless. My mind raced as I walked back down the road. I wondered if I could somehow still reach the summit while staying outside of the enclosure. I asked Chico if I was allowed to try from another angle, and he hesitantly agreed suggesting that it would be fine so long as I didn’t cross the fence. Before he could change his mind, I began bushwhacking up the steep and loose east facing jungle slopes towards where I expected the summit to be. Snakes and guerrillas filled the back of my mind, while in reality all I had to contend with was thick brush and garbage. It seems that some of the tower workers simply throw their trash over the fence. I pulled on small trees and avoided stepping on the empty liquor bottles. At the end I was swimming through a grassy bush, and I eventually popped out at the fence, which was also the bulldozed high point.

With my heart racing, I snapped a few photos. I should have been more patient, but the dogs from inside the complex were on to me. They had started barking, so as not to arouse further suspicion, I returned to the thicket.

I snapped one last photo of Chinchontepec, Lago de Ilopango and San Salvador before descending.

What a relief! I carefully descended the steep slope, but not carefully enough. I dislodged a big boulder from underneath the dirt, and this accelerated quickly towards where the others were waiting for me. I yelled rock, but Guillermo stood there like a deer in the headlights. Luckily, this boulder flew right past him and no one was hurt. The boulder continued to thrash down the steep volcano, and it’s probably still falling today. The other’s looked at me as if I was some sort of lunatic, and maybe they are right.

Our descent went quickly and soon we were back down at the saddle looking up at El Picacho.

I had wanted to climb El Boquerón as well, which is the crater of the greater San Salvador Volcano, however there were some challenges. While it is possible to hike to the highest point along the crater, it’s currently not the safest thing to do. Gerardo expects that in a few more years, the national park service will clean up the area, making it safer for hikers.

-Berries

Once at the bottom, we ordered some yuca and chatted with the locals.

Zach got his yuca with chicharón and I got mine with Pepescas. Zach made the smarter decision, as I got pretty sick afterwards, so for all future hikers, get the pork!

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