#they have a secret handshake that is 20 minutes long | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

snowysosturn · 3 months ago

Text

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, selling drugs, angst, cursing, arguing

Chris’ POV

I arrived with Nate to Tyler's party, adrenaline simmering in my veins. We parked a block down from the house, and the faint thump of music pulsing in the crisp night air as we walked up. I looked up to see Dylan leaning against the fence leading to Tyler’s house, eyes already catching mine like he’d been waiting. It’d been weeks since he’d hit me up, and I was a little thrown when he nodded at me and casually asked, “Hey, man, you got anything on you tonight?”

Surprised, I didn’t respond right away, but he lifted his hand with a smirk, flipping through fifty dollars in his fingers. My gut told me to pass it up, to just keep my head down for the night, but instinct won out. I mean it is my job at the end of the day, I always have something on me since I had a load I needed to sell. I slipped him what he wanted, his eyes lighting up as he stuffed it into his jacket pocket before striding off without a second glance. Nate gave me a quick look, eyebrow raised, and I just shrugged. One sale, quick, done. Tonight was about Y/n, and I was ready to put that side of things behind me, even if just for a few hours.

The front door swung open, and we stepped into the chaos. Bodies packed the space, some leaning against walls, others talking in loud, tipsy clusters. But the second I saw her, my focus narrowed. Y/n stood by Willow, both stood looking at something they’d both been stumped by, but the sight of her face broke through the nerves in my stomach. Her smile, so genuine and effortless, had a way of making me forget the weight I carried around every day. All I wanted now was to be next to her.

We moved through the crowd, and her eyes found mine, brightening as I made my way over. After a quick round of introductions, we slipped into a rhythm that felt almost automatic. We moved into the living room and conversation flowed easily, each word making the noise of the party around us blur a little more. Willow suggested heading upstairs with Nate. I couldn’t care less what Nate and Willow were actually planning on doing, my only thought was that Y/n and I were going to have time to ourselves. I couldn’t believe how quickly she’d become the person I wanted to be around.

Once they disappeared up the stairs, she turned to me with that flirty look that always got me, like she knew something I didn’t. Her jokes, her quick wit, how she’d nudge me playfully if she thought I was being too serious, it was easy, the way we bounced off each other, like we’d known each other forever. An hour flew by in what felt like minutes. I’d almost forgotten about everything else, about Dylan, about the things I was holding back from her.

It wasn’t long before an hour had passed and we both started wondering what Nate and Willow were up to, or how they were getting up to it so long. The thought made me laugh, shaking my head. “Do you think they’re planning to start a secret society up there?” Y/n joked, nudging me playfully.

I laughed, my eyes bright with amusement. “If they do, I want in. I could use a secret handshake. You know, something cool.”

I chuckled, letting my arm stretch out on the back of the couch as I leaned in a little. “Like what? You strike me as the type to throw up gang signs.” Her laughter was soft, but then it tapered off as her expression shifted to something more serious. “Actually,” she added thoughtfully, “have you noticed how tense things have been lately with the gangs?”

Her words caught me off guard, hitting me like a punch to the gut. I froze, every nerve in my body suddenly hyper aware of the reality I was hiding from her. For a split second, I thought I’d lost all ability to move, my face going hot as the room seemed to close in around us. I forced a smile, tried to keep my voice steady. “Yeah, it’s been rough. It’s hard to ignore the tension in the air around the city.”

It was a vague response, but the best I could manage. The truth was, I couldn’t risk dragging her into the dangerous mess that was my life. I just hoped she’d drop it. But Y/n wasn’t someone to let things slide that easily, and I should’ve known better.

“The shootings are what freak me out,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Like, what if one of these people we’re surrounded by is somehow tied to it? It’s wild how quickly things can escalate. One minute you’re at a party, and the next, you’re ducking for cover.”

The irony of her words hit me hard. If only she knew. If only she knew that the person she was spending her time with was tangled up in the very world she was afraid of. I felt my throat tighten, a growing urge to just spill everything to her right then and there. She deserved to know the truth; she deserved a guy who wasn’t living a double life. But how do you tell someone that? How do you admit that you’re involved in something so dark and dangerous when you’ve spent weeks pretending to be just a normal guy?

Before I could figure out what to say, I saw Nate and Willow coming back down the stairs, both of them laughing, looking far too pleased with themselves. Nate caught my eye, giving me a small nod – a signal that, at least for him, the night had gone well. I seized the opportunity to stand up and offered Y/n a smile, trying to shake off the unease I was feeling.

“We’ll go grab you both a drink” I said, giving her hand a quick squeeze before heading toward the kitchen with Nate.

The second we were out of earshot, I leaned in closer to Nate, dropping my voice. “Y/n brought up the gang stuff, man. She’s scared, like really scared of everything going on. She’s seeing all of it around us, and it’s only a matter of time before she connects the dots.”

Nate raised an eyebrow, taking in my words with a seriousness that made me uneasy. “What did you tell her?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, frustration knotting in my stomach. “Nothing. I kept it vague, but how long can I keep dodging this stuff? She’s bound to figure it out eventually, especially when people like Dylan are out here practically shouting it.”

“Look, I get it, man” Nate said, glancing around as we neared the counter lined with drinks. “But maybe she doesn’t need to know. Keep her safe by keeping her out of it, you know?”

“Right” I muttered, though doubt lingered in my mind. Maybe that was the safest choice, but it didn’t feel right. I wanted to be honest with her, to not have this barrier between us.

We poured a couple of drinks and navigated back through the packed hallway, but a sharp laugh from around the corner made me look up, just in time to see the bathroom door swing open. Out stepped three girls, one by one, each with an expression more intense than the last. Y/n, Willow, and.. Sarah? My heart skipped a beat, every instinct on high alert.

Sarah? Dylan’s ex Sarah? The same Sarah who had once been one of my regulars? Since when are she and Y/n friends?

It was hard to read the exact vibe in that moment. Y/n’s eyes were locked on me, her expression steely and set, while Sarah’s gaze flicked between me and Nate, looking almost expectant, like she was waiting for something to play out. Willow crossed her arms, her posture tense, giving off a silent message that something was definitely off.

My pulse quickened as my mind raced to piece things together. I’d sold to Dylan tonight. Fucking hell, he’d practically hunted me down for it. There was no way Sarah would’ve been able to mention that to Y/n already.. right? Did she even know that Y/n and I were seeing each other?

“Y/n” I started, trying to keep my voice steady, but the weight of their stares was hard to ignore. I glanced sideways at Nate, whose brow had furrowed, and back at the girls. “You okay?”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed a bit, her lips pressed into a line. I could feel the judgement in her gaze, and something about it twisted at my chest. Whatever I’d just walked into felt loaded, way beyond the casual tension of a night out.

Y/n’s POV

My mind reeled as Sarah’s words sank in, twisting through me like a knife. Wait, his dealer Chris? My voice barely made it out, trembling as I tried to process what she’d just said. I needed her to be wrong. Needed it to be anyone else. “Chris who?”

Sarah blinked, then casually said, “Chris Sturniolo. You know, the guy who’s friends with Nate Doe?”

Everything around me seemed to fall away. My eyes darted to Willow, her expression mirroring my own shock, and I knew that she’d caught on as fast as I had. Nate’s name barely registered, I guess since I knew about the court case and the life Nate always had. But Chris?

It felt impossible. But the pieces were starting to click, snapping into place with a harsh clarity I wasn’t prepared for. The late night messages, the vague excuses, the way he’d left our date so abruptly, claiming it was “something work related” that he “couldn’t miss.” Now it makes sense why. He’d lied so easily. We just had a conversation about this shit, about how it terrifies me, and he didnt even think to say anything?

A wave of anger swept over me, and I struggled to keep it down, swallowing against the bitter taste of betrayal rising in my throat. I felt trapped in the tiny bathroom, the walls seeming to close in around me with every breath.

“I need to get out of here” I muttered, the words escaping on a shaky breath before I’d even decided to say them. I turned toward the door, my hand fumbling for the knob, my heart pounding so loud it felt deafening. Willow grabbed my arm, her grip firm and reassuring, but her face told me everything I needed to know, she was just as rattled as I was.

“I’m coming with you” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. But there was an edge of steel in it, her loyalty cutting through the haze of hurt that clouded my mind.

My stomach twisted as I pulled the door open, and there he was, standing in the hallway with Nate, a casual smile on his face as he held a drink in each hand. For a second, I couldn’t breathe. My heart felt like it had dropped straight through the floor. He looked so normal, so.. calm, and I hated how I still felt that stupid tug in my chest seeing him, even after everything I’d just learned.

His eyes flickered between us, his smile fading as he took in our expressions. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he looked from me to Willow, then to Sarah. And when his gaze finally settled back on me, there was something in his expression – an unease, a trace of something he was trying hard to mask. Nate must have picked up on the tension too, because he shot Chris a wary glance, then took a step back.

“Y/n.. you okay?” Chris asked, his voice careful, too careful, like he already knew that I knew.

I felt my throat close up, anger and betrayal boiling over so fiercely I thought I might burst. “Am I okay?” I bit out, my voice cracking as I tried to hold it together. “Why don’t you tell me, Chris? Are you okay with lying to my face?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but I couldn’t bear to hear him. I didn’t want to listen to his empty explanations, his excuses. I shoved past him, feeling the sting of tears at the back of my eyes. I heard Willow’s voice fading behind me, trying to calm me down, but I couldn’t stop. I stormed out the front door, not caring who saw me, needing fresh air and space.

Chris followed me outside, his footsteps catching up to me. “Y/n, wait! Can we talk about this?” he said, reaching for my arm, but I pulled away, my heart pounding.

“Talk about it?” I spun around to face him, my voice rising. “What could you possibly say to make this okay? I thought I knew you, Chris! I thought.. God, I was actually starting to feel something for you. And this whole time, you’ve been lying to me. You’ve been selling drugs, dealing, like it’s nothing!”

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he tried to keep his voice steady. “Y/n, it’s not as simple as you’re making it sound-”

“Oh, it isn’t?” I snapped, cutting him off. “What part of this isn’t simple? You deal drugs, Chris! You’re part of the reason people in this city are scared to walk home alone at night. You’re part of the reason people like Sarah end up doing this shit!”

His face paled, and he looked down, guilt and frustration flickering in his eyes. “It’s not like that” he said, his voice softening, but the crack in his defences was there. “I never wanted to be a part of this. It’s just.. It’s complicated, Y/n. There’s things you don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” I shouted, anger flooding every word. “Explain to me why you couldn’t be honest with me from the start. Explain why you let me fall for you while you hid this entire side of yourself from me. Explain why you were in my room last night, pretending everything was fine, when you knew, you knew, that I would hate this.”

He looked like he’d been punched, his face etched with hurt. “I never meant to lie to you. I didn’t want you to look at me like this, okay? I.. I couldn’t tell you because I was scared of this exact reaction. Scared you’d hate me.”

“Hate you?” I repeated, voice cracking. “I hate what you’re doing Chris.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly grappling with his own frustration. “You don’t get it, Y/n. I don’t do this because I want to. I’m just trying to survive. This life.. it’s not something you just walk away from.”

“So you’re just a victim here?” I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Poor Chris, forced into dealing drugs because he had no other choice?”

He looked away, jaw clenched, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “Yeah, laugh it off. Make it sound like it’s that easy. You think I wanted this? My life’s been messed up since I was a kid. Nate’s the only person who’s ever had my back, and this.. this is just part of the package.”

I felt a pang of guilt, but it was quickly drowned out by my anger. “That’s not an excuse, Chris. I get that life is hard, I really do. But this? This is a choice. And you made it.”

He shook his head, his eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration and sadness. “You don’t know what it’s like. I don’t expect you to understand. But I care about you, Y/n. I didn’t want to lose you over this.”

“But you have lost me,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. The realisation hit me hard, like a punch to the gut, and I fought to keep my composure. “I can’t.. I can’t be with someone who lies to me. Who puts people in danger. Who just.. brushes off what I said tonight about how scared I am of this stuff.”

He stepped forward, his face pleading. “Please, don’t do this, Y/n. I want to try and get out of it.. Can I just explain myself?”

“You have two minutes.” I say sternly.

“I’m part of the Crimson Cartel.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it held a weight that made my heart pound.

The name sent a chill down my spine. Everyone in Boston knew of the Crimson Cartel – their name haunted the headlines, each story more violent and horrifying than the last. Suddenly, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“The Crimson Cartel?” My voice wavered. “You’re involved in a gang too? What the fuck Chris?”

He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the ground. “It’s not something I chose. Not really. It.. started with Nate. His family’s involved. His cousin Danny is one of the higher ups in the gang.” He paused, his eyes flicking up to meet mine, raw and vulnerable in a way I hadn’t seen before. “When Nate got pulled in, I knew.. I knew I’d be next. There was no avoiding it. And I didn’t want to drag you down with me, Y/n. That’s why I disappeared on you all those years ago.”

The words hit me with the force of a tidal wave. “What? You thought you were protecting me?”

He nodded, shoulders sagging under the weight of his confession. “I thought it was the only way I could. Once I realised where Nate was headed, once Danny started hovering around us, making promises and threats, I knew it was only a matter of time. If I stayed.. you would’ve been dragged into that life too.”

I felt like my head was spinning, memories flashing through my mind like a reel. The countless days and nights I’d spent wondering why Chris had vanished, trying to convince myself it was some teenage misunderstanding or the natural drift of life. And now, to find out he’d left because of this – a dark secret he’d never let me see, never wanted me to be part of.

“So, what changed?” My voice cracked, emotion breaking through the thin wall of composure I’d been trying to keep up. “You saw me again, and… what? Decided that you didn’t care about that anymore?”

He stepped closer, desperation etched in his face. “I never stopped caring, Y/n. You don’t understand, when I saw you again, it was like.. it was like a sign. Like maybe things could be different this time. That I could find a way to leave it all behind, just.. be with you.” He let out a bitter laugh, glancing away as he ran a hand through his hair.

His words hung in the air, thick with longing and regret. I wanted to believe him, I wanted so badly to believe that he’d stayed away to protect me, that this wasn’t some elaborate lie. But the anger I felt at being left in the dark, at being deceived, still pulsed hot inside me.

“Ha- have you.. Killed anyone?” I say almost afraid to ask.

“No Y/n, no I’m not involved like that.. I’m just a runner thats all I promise.” Chris pleaded, as if it magically made things better.

A silence fell between us, thick and suffocating. He was breathing hard, anger and hurt swirling in his eyes. And for the first time, I felt a trace of empathy, maybe even pity for the situation he was in. But it didn’t erase the feeling of betrayal clawing at my chest.

“Then walk away, Chris,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. “If you really don’t want this, then stop. Get out. Find another way.”

“It’s not that simple” he said, his voice pained. “You think they’d let me walk away? This isn’t some club I can just quit. Once you’re in, there’s no getting out without consequences.”

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “So that’s it, then? You’re just going to keep dragging people into this mess with you? People like Dylan, people like Sarah.. people like me?”

Chris’s face softened, and he reached out, his hand hovering over mine. “Y/n, please.. I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted a chance. A chance to see if there was any part of my life that could still be good.”

I stared at his hand, my heart breaking all over again. There was so much I wanted to say, so much anger and sadness twisting inside me. But all I could do was step back, out of his reach, my vision blurring as the tears finally spilled over.

“Then do what you have to do, Chris. But I don’t know if I can be part of it.”

And with that, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone in the darkness, the weight of our shattered connection pressing heavy on my heart.

a/n : should she take him back???? this is only the beginning of the emotional rollercoaster trust me

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @bernardsbunny @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 @vickytaa @anikaistg @matts-girlfriend @lvrsturniolo

#snowy speaks #allies or affiliates?#dealer!chris #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo series

118 notes · View notes

kenmascatears · 4 years ago

Text

Yours

You haven’t seen Shinso in a year, with him moving away for his job. So when you visit him, harboring secret feelings, you don’t know what to expect.

Genre: an actual plot, smut at the end, fluff

Warnings: alcohol usage, dubcon(sex under the influence of alcohol), public sex (bathroom), squirting, creampie, possessive themes during sex, multiple orgasms, slight dumbification (reader gets fucked out)

a/n: let me know if i forgot any warnings or if you want me to tag anything!

Word count - 3.8k

“______!” You heard a voice call out to you. You had been weaving through hordes of people at the arrival gate for the past 10 minutes, lugging your suitcase behind you, looking for Shinso, who had promised to pick you up.

You twisted your head around to try and locate the tall purple-haired man, but couldn’t spot him. Suddenly, you felt a tap on your back. Whirling around you turned to face the smiling man.

“Hitoshi!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his frame and burying your face in his chest.

Shinso laughed, and warmly returned the hug. The two of you stayed like that for a while, basking in the feeling of seeing one another again.

He hadn’t changed since you had last seen him, the muscular arms encircling your back were the same ones that had hugged you when you had last seen each other. His cologne was still the same, you noted, the woody scent that invaded your nostrils was the same that he had worn for the past 5 years, ever since high school when he claimed it made him smell “manly.”

The two of you finally let go of one another and as you pulled away you noticed a flush covering his cheeks, You didn’t have time to dwell on it, however, as he took your suitcase into one hand, and yours in the other and began pulling you towards the exit.

“Shit your suitcase is heavy ______, did you bring your whole closet or something?” He asked, laughingly.

“Fuck off Toshi, I packed less this time and you know it.”

It was true, Shinso did know how much you had packed. The day before your flight you had called him in disarray, asking what kind of clothing you should bring and what activities the two of you would be doing. It had taken the purple-haired boy half an hour to convince you to bring what made you comfortable.

It was always like that between the two of you. Shinso always grounded you, always took care of you.

As the two of you shot jabs at one another on the way to the car, you began to slip back into the familiarity of his physical presence, having been limited to video calls and texts since he moved away for work.

Your conversation had calmed down and shifted to your plans for the week, by the time you got into the car, where you wanted to go and what you wanted to do. You hadn’t visited Shinso yet, nor had you been to the city and you were eager to explore everything.

Throughout the car ride, your energy had begun depleting, and as you arrived at Shinso’s apartment, you wanted nothing more than to eat a meal and pass out. However, as Shinso opened the door, the person in the kitchen was presenting a challenge.

As the door clicked shut behind you, the figure turned your way, the expression on their face going from bewildered to excited.

As you and Shinso took off your shoes and removed your coats, the person rose from their spot at the table and spoke.

“Shinso you didn’t tell me ______ was arriving this early! If I had known, I would have attempted to clean the apartment” His voice held no trace of malice, and you found yourself smiling at his words.

“Shove off Kaminari, you wouldn’t clean the apartment for the life of you. And I told you ______ was coming, your dumbass just forgot.”

You smoothed down the front of your outfit, suddenly self-conscious of your appearance. You knew Shinso had a roommate, he often spoke of the energetic blonde and you had seen him briefly on video calls, but you wanted to make a good first impression. Shinso noticed your hesitation and placed a hand on the small of your back, prodding you further into the room.

Stepping forward to formally introduce yourself to Denki, you reached out your hand. To your surprise, he avoided your handshake and pulled you into a hug.

You squeaked in surprise but quickly returned the favor, wrapping your arms around his lean frame.

As he let go of you, stepping back, he spoke.

“It’s really great to meet you ____, Hitoshi has said so much about you over the past year. In fact, he won’t shut up about you.” He exclaimed, throwing a cheeky grin at Shinso.

You glanced inquisitively at Shinso who was suddenly staring intently at the carpet beneath his feet, pretending like he didn’t hear the statement.

You turned back to Denki and smiled, “All good things I hope” you replied cheerily.

“Nothing bad, just all about how you’re his best friend and your job and how much he depends on you, sometimes he acts like a schoolboy with a cr-“

“Kaminari,” Shinso cut him off, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he glared at the blond-haired boy, “you don’t need to repeat to her everything that I say.”

Your stomach flipped upside down as you processed Denki’s comment. You had been harboring feelings for Shinso for about half a year but hadn’t felt like he had felt the same way.

Countless nights had been spent pondering your emotions, wondering if you should confess your feelings or keep them to yourself. And here Denki was, hinting towards Shinso liking you. You knew he hadn’t had a girlfriend in the past year, his excuse being that he wanted to focus on his career, but before that, he had gone through a slew of them. You never thought that he could like you, after all, you were simply friends.

Shinso touched your arm, breaking you out of your train of thought. “You good? You zoned out there for a second.”

You turned to look up at him and mustered a smile. “Yeah I just need some sleep and food in me, I’ve been up for almost 24 hours.”

Shinso nodded in understanding, hand reaching up to ruffle his purple hair. “I’m about to heat up some leftovers for myself. I’ll make some for you as well. ”

You smiled at him in relief. “That would be great Hitoshi, thank you.”

“20 minutes?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna take a shower and get the airplane smell off of me if that's okay.”

“Yeah, of course, the bathroom is down the hall, first door on the right.”

After your much-needed shower, where you spent more time thinking about Shinso’s reaction to Denki’s comment than you should have, you were seated at the table with the two of them, downing some leftovers.

In between the flurry of questions that Denki was sending your way, you realized something.

“Where am I gonna sleep?” You asked around a mouthful of noodles. You knew that the apartment Shinso and Denki lived in only had two bedrooms and not much room for guests.

“You’re sleeping in my room and I’m taking the sofa.” Shinso replied decisively, twirling his fork around the noodles on his plate.

“Are you sure?” you asked worriedly. You knew Shinso didn’t sleep well and that sleeping on the sofa was going to cause him to get even less sleep.

“Yeah, I’m sure ______. You’re the guest here and if my mom caught wind of me having you sleep on the sofa I would never hear the end of it.”

After finishing up your meal, the three of you kept talking, sharing stories, and discussing what to do tomorrow. To Shinso’s dismay, you and Denki had bonded over a shared love of goading him, an act that continued throughout the evening. Eventually, you realized how tired you really were. Glancing at the clock, you stifled a yawn.

You stood up and began clearing your plate, stating that you were tired and it was best for you to go to bed.

“I cleared my stuff from my room and there are spare blankets on the chair in there” Shinso replied, “Goodnight ______ and let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah, goodnight _____” Denki chimed in.

“Goodnight guys.” You replied back, before heading down the hall to Shinso’s room.

As you laid in bed that night, you played back your time knowing Shinso. He had always seemed more receptive and warm to you than the rest of his friends, but he’d told you during a drunken night a few months ago that he wasn’t looking for anyone at the moment.

Exhaustion taking over, you drifted off to sleep.

****

The next few days went by quickly. Denki and Shinso took you around the city, visiting museums and monuments, or simply just walking around. At nights you guys hung out, watching movies, or going to explore the nightlife.

The city fascinated you. Musutafu was a big city, but where Shinso lived now was even bigger. With bustling streets, buildings so tall they disappeared into the clouds, and more attractions than you could count, you loved it.

You had grown closer to Denki over the course of the week, with him asking all about your life, and him telling you all about his. The blonde was a nice contrast to Shinso, who was usually reserved, the calm to the storm that Denki was. You hadn’t ignored the way he looked at you and Shinso when you interacted, however, staring at the two of you like you were a couple. You were only glad he hadn’t asked if you had feelings for Shinso. You didn’t think you could confess that to anyone yet.

You had realized a long time ago that you and Shinso were closer than the average friends, but for the longest time you had chalked it up to being lifelong best friends.

You sighed, clutching the glass of water you held with both hands and lifting it to your lips. You supposed it wasn’t normal, the dynamic the two of you had, but you wanted to convince yourself otherwise. No use getting your hopes up for him to end up not having feelings for you.

You were in a restaurant with Shinso and Denki, a few train stops away from their apartment. It was your second to last night with the two of them. For today's activity you had gone to an exhibit at a museum you wanted to see, and as the evening was coming to an end, so was your energy.

Throughout the meal, you had been opting to sit and listen, or rather overthink in your head, instead of contributing to the conversation Shinso and Denki were holding, and Shinso, inquisitive as ever, noticed that. As Denki got up to use the washroom, he leaned towards you.

“______ Are you okay? You seem distant?” He inquired with a concerned look in his eyes.

You turned to face him, smiling gently at his expression. He was so adorable when worried, you mused, with his eyes crinkling softly and a small pout adorning his face. His hair was down today you noticed, the soft strands framing his face beautifully. He had once let you make little braids in it, and you reveled in the memory of his silky hair between your fingers.

“Yeah I’m fine,” You finally replied, “I didn't know walking around a museum was so tiring. I might have to take a nap when we get back.”

Shinso laughed at your reply, “I didn’t know the girl who pulled all-nighters to study for final exams in high school couldn’t handle a little museum.”

You scoffed at his reply and punched his arm, “You’re the one who’s been taking naps at every opportunity. Have you not been sleeping enough?

Shinso gently shoved you back, ignoring your question and the momentum sent you into his body. You leaned against his arm, relishing the familiarity of him. You were going to miss that when you left.

Shinso’s arm moved, draping itself over your shoulders so you were now leaning against the side of his chest. You stayed like that for a few more seconds, the both of you basking in the softness and peace of the moment until Denki came back.

As the three of you paid for your meals and left, the moment the two of you shared was still in your mind. The way you fit so perfectly next to him, almost as if it was meant to be.

The thought consumed you for the rest of the evening. It was at the forefront of your mind while you watched a movie, hyper-aware of Shinso’s body next to yours, knee bumping into yours every so often. It consumed you as you took a shower, as you bid the two boys goodnight, and it consumed your mind as you drifted off to sleep.

You woke up abruptly to a voice. Disoriented, you turned to the door to see Shinso standing there.

“Are you okay?” You blearily inquired, checking the time which stood at 3:27.

“The sofa is really uncomfortable and I can’t take it anymore” he whispered, “The spring keeps digging into my back and I was wondering if I could sleep with y-I mean not with you but like in the b-”

You cut off his rambling with a simple “Sure, I put the spare blanket on the chair if you want it.”

He thanked you and began to move towards you as you scooted towards the side of the bed to give him more space.

Your heart was pounding. Even though you guys were best friends, you had never slept in the same bed before, and with your feelings toward him, you were getting anxious.

After Shinso had settled in, tucking the blanket around him, you bade him a good night, which he said back sleepily.

You laid awake, not daring to move in fear of disturbing him. The bed was big enough for the both of you, you mused, and you could feel his warmth from where he was, could smell the remnants of his cologne. It seemed just right. This is how you had wanted it to be for so long, the two of you together,

You woke up the next morning stiflingly hot and with a weight on top of you. In the course of the night, you and Shinso had found your way to the middle of the bed, covers puddled by your intertwined legs, while his arm was draped over your side, keeping you close to him.

This is how it could be, you thought, lazy mornings curled up with Shinso in bed if you told him how you felt and if he reciprocated those feelings.

Shinso was still dead to the world, soft snores leaving his mouth. You watched him for a bit, not wanting to leave his side, nor the warmth he was providing you. When Shinso was asleep he looked at peace, almost childlike, in contrast to his usual blasé face. Smoothing your free hand over his forehead, you brushed some strands of hair away from his face.

At the soft touch, Shinso stirred, dark purple eyes meeting yours. You smiled softly, uttering a “good morning” to him. He hummed in reply, raising his arm away from you to stretch.

“ ‘m sorry about the contact,” he finally stated, voice scratchy, “I hope you didn’t mind it”

“No, it was fine,” you quickly replied, heat rising through your face, “You were warm anyways.”

He smiled, a slow, sleepy smile that made your heart melt.

“Thanks for letting me sleep here,” he said, “I slept so much better than on the sofa.”

“You’re welcome Toshi,” you replied, “It was no big deal.”

Pulling away, you got out of bed, shivering at the loss of warmth that Shinso had provided.

“I’m gonna get ready for the day, okay?”

****

That evening found you in a club a few blocks away from Shinso and Denki’s apartment. Denki had found someone and left a few hours ago, leaving you and Shinso alone. The two of you had been downing drink after drink, and they were starting to kick in, making your head all fuzzy and your actions unpredictable.

Shinso, when drunk, wasn’t as serious and collected as he normally was. So when you asked him to dance, he accepted.

That found the two of you on the dance floor, Shinso opting to stand and sway to the music, while you danced to your heart's content around him.

You always felt more carefree around him, felt safe and protected, and with the alcohol flowing freely through you, you had no qualms about sidling up to Shinso when a particularly suggestive song came on, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his.

Shinso’s hand dropped to your hips, holding on to them as you moved.

As you danced, chest to chest, you stared at his face in wonderment.

The strobe lights made his face glow, the colors distorting his features. However through all the colors, through the haze, you could see one feature clearly, fierce, dark purple eyes, violently staring at you, almost as if he was trying to figure you out.

It was the alcohol that made you pull Shinso’s face level to yours.

It was the alcohol that asked him oh so boldly, “what’re you thinking about Toshi?” with your mouth pressed against his ear.

And it was the alcohol in Shinso that made him reply.

“I’m thinking about if I should kiss you.”

And it was the alcohol that pressed your lips to his, bodies flush against one another, in the middle of the dancing bodies.

That found you in the bathroom 10 minutes later, sitting on the sink, dress shoved up around your waist and underwear pushed to the side.

“Fuck Toshi,” you moaned out, dick dragging along your folds.

“You’re dripping,” Shinso said in amazement, staring at where the two of you connected. “So wet and all for me.”

He was enthralled, at how your little pussy was all stretched out for him. You were gripping him so tightly, pussy fluttering and creaming around his dick.

The second he had slid his dick inside, you had come almost instantly, moaning and clinging onto him. At that moment, he knew you were made for him. Only he wanted to please you, to satisfy you. And he was determined to do just that. He wanted you drunk on his cock by the end of the evening. To send you home with the reminder of him. To make you unable to be satisfied by anyone by him. And most of all, he wanted to make you his.

“‘s so big Toshi” you moaned out, enraptured from the feeling of him so deep inside you, filling you up. Enraptured with the feeling of the alcohol that was flowing through your veins.

His cock was filling you up so nicely, pressing against your gummy walls as you clung to him, legs wrapped around his waist. That was consuming your every thought, Toshi, Toshi, Toshi.

You didn’t realize you were crying out his name until he gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“What do you want princess,” he asked lowly, eyes burning with desire.

“You Toshi, please, want your cock, wanna cum.”

With that, he began moving, hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave marks.

“Good girl,” he groaned out, “you’re taking me so well.”

And you were. With each thrust, he could see the translucent ring of slick you were leaving at the base of his cock, your juices dampening the neatly trimmed hair.

You moaned out without regard to those outside the bathroom. Right now, there was no one but the two of you. All that mattered was right now was you and Shinso.

Wrapping your arms even tighter around his neck and arching your back to meet his thrusts, the new angle made him hit that little sweet spot inside of you, and you keened at the sensation.

Your orgasm was building up fast, the knot in your stomach building up and Shinsou could tell.

“Hitoshi ‘m so close,” you cried out, head foggy.

Thumbing at your clit, he began thrusting faster, feeling you tighten up under his ministrations.

It didn’t take much, and you were soon sent headfirst into an orgasm, the pleasure rippling through you.

Shinso was convinced that the alcohol enhanced your orgasm, as you trembled and cried out, nails digging into his biceps.

Continuing his ministrations, you were sent straight from your second orgasm, into your third. Maybe you hadn’t even come down from your second.

Suddenly, your juices squirted from your cunt, coating your cock and his thighs, as you trembled and shrieked.

That was the most filthy and erotic thing Shinso had ever seen. You were completely fucked out, twitching underneath him, the only thing coming out of your mouth were broken moans and his name, over and over again.

The feeling of your walls gripping him, along with that visual sent Shinso towards his orgasm.

Shinso stilled, head falling into the crook of your neck, moaning, as he shot his load into you, your cunt milking him for all he was worth.

As the two of you came down from your highs, he slowly pulled out, putting your panties in place to ensure that his cum wouldn’t leak out.

Even when drunk, Shinso was attentive.

"You okay ______?" He asked you softly.

You could only groan in reply, eyes fluttering.

He had tired you out, and along with the alcohol, you had reached your limits.

"'m fine Toshi" you managed to get out, "just wanna go home with you."

Adjusting your dress, he scooped you up, in his arms and took you home.

****

The next morning, you woke up with an ache between your legs, a pounding in your head, and a warmth next to you.

Groaning, you turned to the source of heat.

"Good morning," Shinso said, leaning over to grab some painkillers and a glass of water before handing it to you. "Do you remember last night?"

You downed the pill and water, before turning to face Shinso. "Yeah, I remember the club and bathroom."

Shinso hesitated before speaking, his voice quiet, "D-Did you regret it? Did I push you too far? We were both drunk and I know that might have impacted your judg-"

"Toshi, I wanted what happened last night. I like you Toshi, and I always have. And I hope you like me too. And if you don't, we can forget all about last night."

As you spoke those words, it felt like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. After all those years, you had finally confessed to Shinso how you felt, and it felt calming, to know it was in the open now.

Shinso blinked, and a slow smile grew across his face. Pulling you closer towards him, he cupped your face, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

"I like you too ______," he said against your lips, "and I want you to be mine."

You kissed him back eagerly, arms wrapping around his neck.

As you pulled away, with the sun filtering in through the curtains, creating a halo around you, you spoke.

"I would love to be yours Hitoshi."

#shinso x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #shinso x reader smut #shinso smut #mha smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader smut #bnha x reader smut #mha x reader smut #shinsou x reader #shinsou x reader smut #hitoshi shinsou x reader #tw dubcon #tw dumbification #tag:dubcon

968 notes · View notes

qslovebot · 4 years ago

Text

Midnight Escapade: Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer Reid and the reader have been crushing on each other since they met, but neither of them cared to admit it. When doubled up in a hotel room for the night, reader tries to convince Spencer to go with her at 12:30am to get frozen yogurt to cheer him up and it turns into much more than a snack run.

Pairing: Spencer x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Includes: Swearing, mutual pining (a long time of pining leads up to this fic), food, mention of Sept 11, 2001, self-doubt, fluff, kissing

Word Count: 4533

The case was solved, closed, and finally, your eyes could rest. The case you had just finished was particularly stressful to not only you, but your fellow BAU members as well. You all hadn't slept for nearly twenty-nine hours and Hotch decided it was best you all got the rest you deserved at a nearby hotel.

The ride there, you struggled to keep your eyes open, but Spencer Reid was on another greatly interesting rant about a show he liked, so you figured you would try to stay awake to hear it. You always listened to him because a lot of the time, the rest of the team dismissed him and his oddly accurate monologues. They grew tired of Spencer talking so much about things they didn't understand but you were rather the opposite- and that's probably because you liked Spencer so much.

The two of you met when he was introduced to the BAU. Praised for his mind, he introduced himself to you with a shaky voice and a meek handshake. You instantly admired him from his geeky personality outwards to his tall, thin self with a face sculpted by artists. Little did you know he did the same, but immediately thought of you as out of his league, so he stayed quiet.

You had been friends since then, pairing up on cases as your minds seemed to work like a perfectly oiled machine when together. Like Penelope and Derek, you two were known for the science jokes no one understood and shared looks of adoration that the both of you somehow didn't recognize as romantic. But everyone else saw it.

Derek Morgan teased a lot. He talked to Reid about working with the 'pretty girl' every day, poking him in the side and messing with his hair. The geek and the girl who was smart as hell, but didn't make it her dominant trait.

A doctor and the outgoing agent who matched the loudness of Penelope Garcia at times at karaoke night. You brought more liveliness to the BAU- more music, more spinning, more levity in dark cases. Spencer was always trying to hide a smile when you walked in, trying to pretend he hadn't been waiting for you to bring him coffee each morning. You didn't need an eidetic memory to remember his order and that, for some reason, always sent him over the moon.

But you were here now, listening to him wrap up his story as you fought the sleep that was looming over you as the car came to a stop outside the hotel.

"-And that was the end of it all. I think it's so fascinating how they wrapped everything up into this intricate timeline of interactions and moments and backtracks. We should, uh, watch it sometime." He said as he hopped out of the back, holding his small bag and yours.

You sleepily hopped out after him, hoping you didn't look like you felt, because you truly felt like hell. "Yeah, I'd like that," was all you could really mumble out. He passed you your bag and you smiled your thank you.

Emily held you up by the shoulders as Hotch sent through the check-in information. "Some case, huh?" She laughed as you rubbed your left eye. "I suppose we can't make this a girl's night of post-case celebration if you're dead asleep."

You groaned, "You wanted to do that? Damn it, Em, I'm sorry-"

"You need beauty sleep, (Y/N). I'm not mad or anything, I'll just take a bath and pull out an adult romance novel." A smirk played on her lips as she raised her eyebrows. You chuckled tiredly. "Seriously, no worries."

"Did I hear talk of a romance novel?" Derek shuffled over. "Which one are we reading? 50 Shades of Grey?"

Spencer stepped in, "Did you know that 50 Shades of Grey is actually fanfiction written about Stephanie Meyer's Twilight Saga? If you go further back, Stephanie started Twilight as written alternate universe fanfiction where the emo-slash-hardcore band My Chemical Romance were all vampires. But My Chemical Romance was started by musician and comic book creator- who published a series of comics called The Umbrella Academy in 2008, unrelated, his name was - Gerard Way, who created the band to make music that expressed the trauma he was given from witnessing the twin towers falling on September 11th, 2001."

Emily looked at him, jaw open. "So Nine-Eleven essentially created a badly-written and toxic sex novel, years later?"

Spencer nodded, eyes flickering to you for a brief moment. Derek grinned at Emily, "So you have read 50 Shades of Grey, huh?" He teased. She swat at his wiggly fingers away as Hotch walked over, brow furrowed.

"Rooms need to be doubled up tonight. Morgan, you can come with me. As much as you may hate it, I feel like (Y/L/N) here might collapse on the spot, so we can't go anywhere else." He handed Spencer and Emily a key, expecting them to make their own choices. Of course, Emily knew exactly what she needed to do when Hotch walked off. You were about to turn and go with her, but she bolted off, reaching for JJ.

You looked up at Spencer Reid who had his mouth in a shy, straight-lipped smile. You both knew what this meant, but you were glad you'd get to crash somewhere, floor or not. The room was on the fifth floor, so you took the elevator with Spencer in silence that you were sure he was granting you until you reached the door of your room.

"I will... take the floor tonight," he said, sticking the key in the lock. "You're tired and I'm just going to get dinner and um... read."

His watch read 4:34 pm- it was so much earlier than you had thought, but you were almost collapsing. "I'm sorry," were the last words you could reply with before you walked into the room, got into the bed, and you were out, cold.

You had never had such a fulfilling sleep. You woke up feeling clean, fresh, renewed and restored. There was no groggy feeling that you had accidentally travelled to another dimension while asleep. The room was dim, except for the lamp that was on in the right corner.

When you peered over the edge of the bed, there was Spencer, laying on his stomach with few pillows under his chest and elbows, a book in his hands. He looked peaceful, quiet, calm. "Spence," you whispered. He practically jumped out of his skin and you couldn't help but laugh. "Oh my god, I'm sorry." You grinned.

He smiled sheepishly, setting down his book. "You're awake."

You nodded back, "How long was I out?"

"Since 4:34, so... 8 hours and 20 minutes. It's only 12:22am." Spencer sat up and against the wall while you adjusted yourself to sit cross-legged. You were still in your clothes from earlier and it surprised you to see Spencer in less preppy clothing.

Well, less preppy for him. No cardigan, no dress shirt, just a t-shirt that read 'math is as easy as pi' with the pi symbol made of cherry pie and his regular khaki pants. "Aren't you tired?" you asked, smiling from his shirt, back to him.

"No, uh, I actually got about four hours in the middle of your eight. I usually don't dream anymore but I actually dreamt I was falling, which is a sign of..." he stopped himself, but he was with another profiler, what was the use, you could already fill in the blanks. He continued, "Which is a sign of insecurity and inferiority, but I don't believe in dream analysis..."

You furrowed your brow, watching his eyes look down at his hands. "Are you feeling insecure and inferior, Dr.Reid, because need I remind you that 99% of the time, it's your brain that leads us to solve the cases."

He shook his head, "Thinking myself over, I'd-I'd say it doesn't revolve around work." The stutter was back. He hadn't talked to you with a stutter in months, you'd assumed it was just because he wasn't as comfortable around you then, but now it was back. Spencer Reid needed to be cheered up, something was wrong.

"Well you know you can tell me anything, right? I've kept secrets about my friends since grade one, I can keep yours." You slipped off of the bed and walked to your bag on the table in the far corner. You could feel Spencer's eyes on you as you went, so you shot him a smile over your shoulder. He reverted back to looking at his hands.

Through situations and being friends, you knew Spencer was insecure. He was bullied constantly as a child, some going as far as to strip him down and beat him. Disgusting, self-esteem-ruining acts you wished you could remove from his eidetic memory.

You took off your button-up blouse to stay in your white t-shirt that lay underneath. You hadn't the time to remove it before falling asleep. Thinking about that- you probably had bedhead too. Your balled-up shirt was shoved into your bag and you pulled out a brush in exchange, to get the knots out of your hair.

"I could really go for frozen yogurt right now," you said, running the wooden brush through your hair. Spencer narrowed his eyes at you, a little confused. "I haven't eaten dinner."

"It's nearly 12:30 am..." Spencer said. It looked like he was running through his vast mind to find a scientific explanation as to why you might have wanted frozen yogurt at half-past midnight. You let him, a teasing smile on your lips as you pulled the top bit of your hair up. "Are you pregnant?" He asked, out of the blue, entirely serious. Seemed like the only logical explanation he could find. You nearly choked on the air.

"No, Spencer, I am not pregnant!" You laughed. His face tightened as he went back to searching his mind. "I just want frozen yogurt. Regular cravings, not... pregnancy cravings. Are you coming?"

He looked at you, oddly surprised he was invited. "Why?"

"Why not?" You picked up his jacket from the hook and tossed it to him. "Nobody has to see your cheesy math shirt."

He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, but went right back to being analytical, a mumbling rant with hand gestures.

"The average half-cup serving of frozen yogurt alone has about 17.3 grams of sugar and plus various toppings, the sugar is upped to at least 25 grams. But, versus a half-cup serving of vanilla ice cream, the sugar is only about 14 grams and with toppings can be upped to about 22. Fat-wise-"

You interrupted him because this was seemingly the only way to lift his mood and he was making excuses to stay here and wallow. "Come on, for once, let's be able to act like the youngest members of the team. Once, Spence. I don't need a play-by-play on how much sugar is in it- though I did find that interesting-I just want frozen yogurt and I would like you to come with me. I'll pay for yours if you want any, just... please?"

He met your eyes with a curl falling down his forehead and quickly looked back at his hands. You'd been friends for nearly a year and four months and he still couldn't look you in the eyes for long. He really wasn't good at refusing you at all, either.

Spencer nodded and you practically beamed. Maybe this would help to take his mind off of what was bothering him, even if the distraction was brief. You jumped on the spot and slipped on your own jacket and grabbed your wallet, ready to go and by the door.

He had a small smile when the two of you stepped out, his hands behind his back. You locked the door behind you and the two of you walked silently to the elevator, careful not to accidentally wake anyone else in case they decided to peer out into the hall.

In the elevator, you turned and looked up at Spencer who was fiddling with his hands. "You look nervous, Spence. It's frozen yogurt, not a pretty girl."

"Well I'm with-" he stopped himself again and actually started laughing his breathy laugh, squeezing his own hand so hard his knuckles turned white while his cheeks and nose went a little pink. "You..." He finished, rocking on his heels.

You scrunched your nose, shaking your head. Though you mentally disagreed with him sometimes on your appearance, you smiled and looked back up at him. "Thank you. You're pretty too."

He shrugged himself further into his jacket, hands still wildly fidgeting. "Thank you..."

You both stepped out of the elevator the moment it got to the ground floor, looking for air that wasn't filled with odd tension neither of you could explain. You two walked through the lobby and into the cool midnight air outside, where things were open, dark, and still.

You shut your eyes for a moment and opened your arms to face the gentle, cool wind that blew your hair and hit your face gently. Inhaling deeply, you opened your eyes again to Spencer in a similar state, but much less relaxed looking. Instead, it looked like he was trying to calm himself down.

"Spence, you look out of it," you said, folding your arms over your chest. You had gotten him outside, now maybe instead of distracting him from whatever it was, you could help him through it. It was part of being a friend- profiling wasn't needed to see he was thinking long and hard over something that bothered him. "You can tell me what's wrong."

He started walking down the street toward the neon lights that shone bright with the word 'fro-yo', you stepped quickly to follow. "If I like a girl.. h-how am I supposed to go about telling her?" He asked, not even looking at you. His forehead was creased and his hands in his jacket pockets.

So this was about a girl he liked. Spencer Reid had a crush. Of course, you were oblivious it was you, but Spencer Reid was romantically interested in someone!

Yay?

An odd feeling of happiness came with finding this out and there was an uprising feeling within you like the first drop on a rollercoaster, but it lingered... and it was much less happy. You ignored it, of course, letting your outer emotions display themselves.

"Dr. Spencer Reid, the human encyclopedia- have you finally found a girl that puts you at a loss for words?" You teased, pressing the back of your hand to your head for dramatic effect, struggling to keep up with him.

His mouth twitched, "Maybe."

"Well, to be honest, Spence, just... tell her. Just go at it- ask to kiss her, maybe, then confess after. Or... or, you could confess, see how she takes it, then you can see if you should or shouldn't kiss her based off of if you get rejected or not." You told him, catching him by the shoulder to get him to slow down at the entrance of the frozen yogurt place.

He was much taller than you, so that came with him being that much faster, but that didn't matter now, he had stopped. Spencer looked at you, concern in his eyes, panic. You smiled kindly, "She won't reject you. I don't know any girl who would even think of it." Reassurance, because he needed it.

His eyes trailed to the ground and he ran a hand through his hair, opening the door for you. "And w-what do I say?" Spencer asked when you both went inside. You were the only two there and the cashier must have been in the back room.

You hopped over to the flavours, "I mean, whatever feels right, Spence. If you feel like going on a long, romantic, poet-written rant about how much you like her, do that. If you're afraid to bore her, you can wait for her to speak, but the truth is if she can't listen to you rant, she probably isn't worth going for."

He evaluated your words while you casually got yourself vanilla frozen yogurt. He also scanned the flavours, probably mentally shaming the company for marketing this as somewhat healthier. You giggled watching him try to figure out how to get the yogurt out of the machine as you put raspberries in yours.

"(Y/N), uh..." he said quietly, gesturing you over. The genius's mind was scrambled enough to miss the lever in front of him. You took his cup from him and pulled the lever, to which he made an 'o' shape with his mouth and nodded comprehensively.

"Chocolate mocha," you smiled, handing it to him as he stood there sheepishly again. "Good choice."

You spun back to your yogurt, adding a bit of honey over the top of it all. He followed, choosing raspberries as well, silently adding them. He still didn't seem at rest with the girl thing, you noticed by the way he was failing to open the scoop-box of cookie crumbs. He had long fingers, usually nimble ones, but not so much right now. Spencer was too stressed to work properly. Error in the system, you may have joked if things weren't so bad with him.

When you were both finished, Spencer tapped the little service bell on the desk and a little woman, maybe mid-30s came out wearing the merchandise of the shop. You both placed your cups on the scale and she weighed them for the price, but both you and Spencer pulled out your wallets.

He put his card out faster, so you swat his hand with your card and paid while he mumbled "Ow..." Of course, you checked to see if he was really hurt, but he had his small, crooked smile back on his face. He was okay, maybe he was feeling better?

Saying good morning/night to the lady, you both stepped back into the midnight air, starting to walk, but not back toward the hotel. You'd think with what cases you two had worked on you'd be a little warier, but with each other, you both felt safe. You walked a few steps, eating your yogurt, before Spencer spoke up again. "Is it a bad thing I'm so clueless as to what women like? Everything I know about women is scientific. Chocolate releases endorphins, flowers are associated with beauty and love, but... other than that... I don't know anything."

You swallowed your bite as Reid took his, waiting on your answer. Just as you always listened to him, he always listened to you. He probably valued your opinion over Derek's at times. You waved your spoon in the air when you spoke, "I wouldn't say bad. Everyone starts somewhere for everything. If anything, a man who is willing to learn is more attractive than one who wings it and doesn't ask comprehensive questions to up the relationship quality."

"Asking questions, got it. Should my confession include a gesture, though?" He spoke with his mouth full. Spencer really wanted to get this right- it was admirable. But there came that uneasy feeling again. It was more like an ache this time. Perhaps it was the awkward hours of sleep throwing you off?

You sucked it up, shoved the feeling down. "Really, Spence, it depends on the woman. Do I know her? Maybe I can help- that is unless you want to profile her to get her interests? I can help with that too-"

"No, I-I don't want to profile her, I want to stay away from that, we do that on a near-daily basis."

"We?" You questioned. Reid froze, but kept walking, looking a little petrified. He put more frozen yogurt in his mouth, maybe to shut himself up. You grinned, "We as in you and her are both profilers or we as in you and I profile others together, so you don't want to profile her with me?"

"I don't want us... to profile her," he cleared his throat. "Yeah..."

You sighed with a breathy laugh, "Good, because I was starting to think you were after Emily."

He chuckled, "Oh, no, not Emily. She's too scary for me anyway. Uh..." He swallowed hard, the way he always did was he was anxious or nervous. I saw in his face he'd come to some sort of conclusion. "Don't... don't yell at me for this, alright?"

"Yell at you? Spence, I wouldn't..." You were confused. He set his frozen yogurt down on the bench he had stopped in front of and stood back in front of you, pushing his hair behind his ears. He looked at you with his doe eyes and the wind blew his curls back in front of his face, he looked to the ground. His forehead still creased between his brows, but his eyes were soft and sweet, his nose was slightly scrunched and his mouth was twisted to the side as if he was once again mentally calculating something. You granted him back the silence from earlier, wondering what was going on in that mind of his. That was... until his eyes met yours and he looked so desperately lost and longing and like he ached inside... and you no longer wondered.

You let out another long sigh. She was you.

This girl that he was trying to understand how to win over, she was you. He asked you because he needed to know what you wanted. He was nervous because he was practically confessing to you and you, a profiler, were too blind to see that.

He watched your face for your reaction, waiting for something good, but you were too shocked to react right. He unfroze, hands flying to the roots of his hair and he spun away from you. He started rambling, obviously thinking everything had gone wrong. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, (Y/N). That- that wasn't how I had things planned and I was so certain that maybe you-hm- liked me too."

His words made it true. This was, in fact, happening at 12:56am in the middle of a foreign city. Your words spilled out, stern, focused, serious. "Kiss me then."

He spun around again, "What?"

"Confess, then kiss, remember?" You recounted carefully, looking directly at him, stepping closer.

"But I didn't get to do my whole monologue thing-" He was grinning pretty hard now, all signs of stress removed from his face. He looked brighter than the neon froyo sign, in happiness and disbelief right down at you. You were pretty sure you looked similar as all the pieces fell in place in your mind. It all fit.

"I don't care." You beamed back. "Do it after."

So without wasting another second, he grabbed your face and kissed you. He kissed you with a year and four months' worth of frustration, lust, confusion and past jealousies. His hands holding your jaw, his fingertips in your hair and your hands on his chest, holding fast to jacket. The kiss was a little messy the first two seconds, but every second after it was enjoyable and sweet and oddly powerful. He also tasted rich, like chocolate mocha, but you knew where that came from.

He pulled away first, which surprised you, but he didn't move very far, in fact, he mumbled against your lips as he tucked your hair out of your face. "I think I've liked you since you and I first met. You didn't hate my science jokes and instead of being annoyed with my informational rants, you listened to me. I wasn't expecting you to be so involved with me since you're, well... you're you and you're loud and fun and sweet and beautiful, but we worked so well together how could I ignore what I felt?"

His hand was a little shaky still, but his fingertips on your cheek were gentle. He continued to quietly ramble, "I decided maybe I'd do something with myself that wasn't devoted to the BAU so I thought maybe I'd- I'd tell you this. That I think you're beautiful and smart and talented and maybe you'd understand and feel the same way and now that I know maybe you do, I feel oddly put back to how I'm supposed to be. And... I think I'm supposed to be with you. If this is too soon or... ruins our friendship, I'm sorry and I'll slow it down, but I won't stop liking you."

You couldn't believe that in a three-minute span you had gone from painfully oblivious to so extremely wide awake. But it was in the best way possible after a year and four months of you also being painfully crushed by your secret feelings for Dr.Reid.

"It's fine, Spence," you said quietly, smiling at him with the most happiness you had found in months. "More than fine, I can't believe this is real."

He tucked the other side of your hair behind your ear, "You might have DRC, then. It stands for dream-reality confusion and is a difficulty or inability to determine whether an event or experience occurred during the waking state or whether it was part of a dream. I can assure you that you aren't dreami-"

You reached up and pulled him onto your lips by the back of the neck, smiling into it. This would be the first time you've ever shut him up. He welcomed it by kissing you back again, softer this time. Now that he was sure you wouldn't hate him for it, it felt a lot more natural, a lot more at ease. His passion was still there, as was yours, but this was how things were supposed to be. There was no longer a rush.

The two of you started laughing after it all. Both of you laughed at how painfully oblivious you both were and he went on a small explanation as to why we don't see our own tells and how feelings of romantic relation cloud the judgement. You went over every time the rest of the team had made a comment you both secretly loved or some you dismissed because it was an ache to hear.

Spencer opened up about his fear of rejection and you did the same and that too resulted in more laughing because here you were, so afraid, but you had both been in it for so long. You deserved to have each other after all this time not only because you fit, but because everyone saw it too, far before either of you did.

An innocent, fun, midnight escapade to cheer Spencer up turned into him finding a truly happy state of mind. You took that as a win and success as you tossed frozen yogurt containers in the garbage and found your way back to your room where you told Spencer it was okay to sleep in the bed as long as he was nice.

So he let you turn out the lights and lay next to him, your head on his chest in the way you had done before when it was only an achingly platonic move. He played with your hair, stared at the green walls, ranted about the history of the colour green and soon after, the both of you went right back to sleep, entirely happy.

Tagged: @ellyhotchner @softhairedhotch

#spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminalminds #emily prentiss #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer x y/n #cm #aaron hotchner #mutual pining #romance #spencer reid fandom

290 notes · View notes

thetriggeredhappy · 3 years ago

Note

recently rediscovered your blog and read the fic from your dad spy au where scout starts out as the "guard" and then becomes scout from there and lemme tell you that shit put me on some s-tier brainrot. like a cranial decay type beat.

i had a concept in my head that instead of being hired as a guard, he could have been hired as a right hand man to the administrator like pauling, because i think hed be awesome in that position. like imagine having a personal merc who can get in fast and out even faster. but maybe he would stay in the base like the rest of them, sort of like a secret on call intel gatherer, who also maybe sometimes has to dig a couple graves. and also like, nobody on the team expects anything from him at first because its this 20 year old newbie kid. hes dressed in his formal clothes and he talks like somebody from relatively around boston but not quite. i can just imagine one day he comes back during a team dinner with his shirt half untucked and stained with blood, hair disheveled as he asks soldier if he can borrow his shovel, or him debriefing them for a mission when miss pauling is busy. same vibe as the fic i mentioned before but scout gets to have a job as cool as miss paulings. honestly id write it myself if i didnt have the attention span of a fly

anyways your scout content gives me life thank you

scout teamfortress but 20% more competent standing next to miss pauling teamfortress while she's doing her job and doing like silly quips and otherwise contributing nothing like it's a buddy cop film is literally my fucking ideal

(warnings for some canon-typical violence)

“Oh, Pauling, it’s good to see you again,” greeted the chairman, smiling in an imitation of a grandfather and clasping her hands perhaps too-kindly considering she barely knew him. “Young as ever, and still so stylish, I see. And who’s the new fellow?”

“He’s just here to help with transport, Mr. Montgomery, nothing unusual,” Miss Pauling replied, returning his smile and adjusting her glasses. “Heavy cases, you know how it is.”

“Of course, I remember you almost toppling clean over last time we made a trade!” Montgomery agreed, frowning at the memory. “You’ll pull a muscle that way, better to be careful. It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. And your name?”

“Mr. Normandy, sir,” the new kid replied easily enough despite his slight East Coast accent, giving the man a firm handshake, expression neutral and stony, the picture of professionalism. Internally, Pauling breathed a sigh of relief.

“Firm grip there, young man,” Montgomery praised, nodding approvingly. “Tennis player, perhaps? Or golf?”

“Baseball, sir,” he replied, still evenly. “First baseman.”

“Ah! Of course! Were you any good?” Montgomery joked.

“At everything but playing in front of the crowds, otherwise I’d be in the major leagues,” he replied, tilting his head just slightly to imply that he was joking, his sunglasses glinting at the movement, and Montgomery barked a laugh.

“I like this one, Miss Pauling!” Montgomery said, and Pauling just barely caught herself from physically relaxing at it.

“We do too, Mr. Montgomery,” she agreed. “I was under the impression that you’re very busy today, so we won’t keep you for too long, we just wanted to sort out the final details surrounding the manufacturing rights for the—“

“—Pacific Northwest branch, up into British Columbia and Alberta, of course,” Montgomery agreed, nodding faintly. “Of course, of course.” He turned to regard his own man in a dark suit, the one standing to the right, who appeared to be unsuccessfully trying to stare down Normandy, who was completely ignoring him. “My briefcase, please.”

The man handed over the briefcase, and Montgomery put it on his desk, opening it and pulling out a sheaf of papers. “All our requests are submitted and approved, at this point we just had a few dustbins to take care of regarding initial percentages and making sure everything is wired to the correct accounts, which names are undisclosed, things like that,” Pauling explained as he glanced through the papers.

“Right, right, everything looks good here,” the man murmured, nodding to himself, sending his long-white hair just ever-so-slightly out of place. “I’m assuming these more sensitive documents should be sent some way besides through the mail?”

“If you finish them today I can take them with me, otherwise either me or Mr. Normandy can return to pick them up at your convenience,” she replied, to which Normandy gave a singular nod.

“Oh, it would only take me a short while,” Montgomery said, waving a hand. “We have a lovely lounge just down the hall from here if you’d prefer to wait there, it should only take me ten, fifteen minutes at most. In the meantime, I do believe there’s also the manner of payment for services rendered.”

Miss Pauling tilted her head just slightly to one side, confused.

“I arranged with Helen already,” Montgomery explained, not looking up from where he was initialing a few things. “The payment, rather than being wired, she asked to be made in material investment. A venture of mine from years ago that she’s willing to sit on. Rather than gold or bonds, she agreed to take some old currency of mine that my family collected, from early 18th century New Zealand and Australia. Monetarily it’s worth around the same, and I’m quite a bit attached to it to be entirely frank, but it was at her request to buy the whole collection from me, and after years of the work we’ve been doing together, well, I’d never trust it with anyone else.”

He gestured to the other man, the one on his left, who stepped forward to hand him a manila envelope, which he passed to Pauling.

“Inside is both keys, the door alarm codes, and all other security information for the building where the collection is being stored. They’ll ask for a few codes and confirmation of identity, only because several other art collections and artifacts are being stored there by other affluent individuals such as myself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling said, taking the envelope gratefully.

“Think nothing of it, my dear. Helen talked me into it all her own,” he said easily enough. “Now, gentlemen, if you would let Miss Pauling and Mr. Normandy into our lounge? I should have these wrapped up before any of us can even think about lunch, eh?”

One of the suits showed the two of them through the doors and down the hallway, through two doors bracketed by similar suits who simply nodded politely at Pauling and ticked their chins at Normandy as they passed them.

Normandy posted up beside the door for all of three seconds before they shut and Pauling pulled her glasses up, rubbing at the bridge of her nose and making a vaguely distressed noise. He then promptly relaxed, instead leaning his hip against an armchair probably worth the same amount as a small car. “So, uh, we’re glad that he’s giving us a bunch of commemorative coins from when dinosaurs still walked the earth?” he asked just below normal speaking volume, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Very glad. Because unlike about six people total on the planet, he hasn’t figured out yet how valuable those are.”

“What, is a picture of a kangaroo on some copper really gonna make up for a couple hundred thousand American dollars?” Normandy asked, sounding doubtful.

“Not copper. Something else,” she replied. “I can’t tell you much more about it other than that, but these coins are made of something priceless to us. And to the Administrator.”

“…Love? Memories? The magic of family?” he joked, cracking a smile, and she rolled her eyes, moving to open the envelope and start reading the papers inside. “Hey, uh, not to question whether my job should exist, but what the hell am I doing here, exactly? Besides carrying a briefcase. Like, chivalry isn’t dead but I really don’t think you need me carrying your bags and holding the door for you.”

“You’re helping with security, basically,” she replied, adjusting her glasses to squint at tiny handwriting about the collection. “Mr. Montgomery is trustworthy, but he mostly hires out to… well, people like us. His security detail is mostly people we’d rather have screened, freelancers, stuff like that. A lot of people we contract out to are like that. Most of them have heard about me and know better than to try and pull something, since I can hold my own pretty well, but if they haven’t, seeing a second person might persuade them to think it over again.”

“Oh, so I’m like, uh, when it says ‘tow zone’ next to the no parking signs even though nobody checks, or when they’ve got a camera in the corner of the store that isn’t even plugged into anything,” he said, and the looked up at him, confused. “Like, uh, what’s the word… I’m a casual deterrent.”

“Sure,” she said, because it sounded like he knew what he was talking about, shuffling the papers back away and closing the envelope again, making a note to ask the Administrator if she should change their current containment procedures to be closer to Mr. Montgomery’s. “Just… if there’s a fight, you deal with it, otherwise you just stand there and look like you’re paying attention.”

“That’s what the sunglasses are for,” he agreed. “I was blinking morse code at the guy across from me literally the whole time.”

“You know morse code?” Pauling asked, surprised.

“Just the alphabet, ‘S.O.S.’, and ‘ass’.”

She rolled her eyes again, and that’s when the door opened.

She expected Mr. Montgomery, not one of the men in suits. “Excuse me, both of you, if you don’t mind,”the man said, accent having the slightest English tilt to it, a Londoner if Pauling had to guess. “You’re Miss Pauling, the Mann Co. affiliate, yes?”

“That’s me,” she agreed, hesitant, and glanced at Normandy.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. Mr. Montgomery have you the wrong envelope on accident,” the man said apologetically, extending a hand forward. “We apologize for this unfortunate mix-up, it’s really quite embarrassing, but those documents are sensitive and we’ll be needing to see them back now.”

Pauling looked at him, and within a moment, shifted her expression. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she agreed, nodding. “No, right, of course. These aren’t the papers for the currency collection?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Brit agreed, head tilting just slightly, hand still extended, moving a fraction further forward.

“Well, thank goodness we figured out now and not with us halfway back,” she joked, and moved to hold the folder closer to her body. “I’ll take this right back to Mr. Montgomery, then.”

“He’s sent me to correct the error,” the man explained simply.

“Right,” she said, and saw in her periphery that Normandy had already started sneaking a hand in towards his primary, clearly having pieced together something she was only suspecting. “We can bring this to his office, then, right down the hall.”

“You misunderstand,” the man said, taking a step forward again. “I’ll be taking it to his office myself.”

“That’s funny,” Pauling said. “I didn’t realize you had clearance to be in there. Or to be carrying a semi-automatic instead of a standard handgun.”

The Brit reached for the semi-automatic, and before he could even get it out properly, Normandy hit one clean shot to the side of his head and another to his thigh, sending him crumpling to the ground.

Pauling had only as far as pulling her own handgun free, thumb on the safety, and breathed a sigh of relief, glancing over at Normandy, shifting to more comfortably hold her gun. “Quick reflexes,” she noted.

“Just noticed a lot sooner, maybe,” he shrugged, stepping forward to glance over the body, tucking his gun back away.

“What was your hint?”

“He’s here to give us the right folder, yeah? Well, why were his hands empty, then?”

She was just starting to nod and realize that as well when a second man shouldered through the door, holding a gun at the ready. Normandy scrambled to draw his own, but Pauling fired a shot into his knee, shoulder, and neck to send him dropping before he was even close. “There’s quick on the draw, and then there’s prepared,” she said pointedly. “Gotta think of if there’s more than one, new guy.”

He nodded, and drew his gun again, bending to hit the guy on the ground at the temple hard enough to knock him out if he wasn’t unconscious already. He then glanced up at the sound of a shout from the other side of the door, two men shouldering through, guns drawn but lowered. It was only the firm eye contact they made with both her and Normandy that made her pause the millisecond it took to realize these ones weren’t trying to kill them.

“Pauling, what on earth is going on here?!” Montgomery demanded, entering the room and staring with wide eyes at the bodies on the ground. “What could’ve possessed you to—“

“He was trying to run off with these documents,” she explained quickly, gesturing with the envelope. “He knew whatever was in here was valuable.”

“He drew his gun, sir,” Normandy added, tipping his head down towards the body, and Pauling glanced down as well and found herself a little surprised. He’d rearranged the man just slightly, apparently, adjusting the arm to be holding the gun a bit further outward. “Other one was aiming to kill.”

“My, my,” Montgomery tsk’d, shaking his head as he surveyed the scene. “What a mess. My apologies, Miss Pauling, Mr. Normandy.”

“It’s alright, but you need to start doing more thorough checks on your staff, Mr. Montgomery,” Pauling stressed.

“He’s only been here two weeks, sir, he was one of the men we hired in a hurry after the incident last month,” one of the bodyguards said, and Montgomery shook his head.

“Thank goodness nobody was hurt,” he sighed. “Mutiny, and besides that, they’re bleeding on my carpet. Here are those papers, Miss Pauling—what a day, eh?”

“It’s really alright, we handled it,” Pauling assured him, giving her bravest smile, a little exasperated now.

“Right, right, you and the first baseman,” he agreed, and Normandy fought back an actual smile.

“If you’d like, we can take care of those for you,” Pauling said, gesturing at the bodies. “To pay you back for the carpet and the scare.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Montgomery agreed, clearly relieved.

“My dad’s gonna be pissed, by the way,” Normandy was so helpful as to say on the way back up the path to the base. “And you’re fielding that.”

“About the suit, or the fight?” she asked, glancing at his clothes where he was somewhat covered in a fine dusting of mud and grime from the gravedigging, shovel still in his free hand.

“Both. Mostly the fight. Your fault for saying it’d be an easy one to start with,” he said.

“If it was going to be that much of a problem, you wouldn’t have gotten this job. I’d just have made you go do dishes all day or something,” Pauling replied.

“Point taken,” he said, walking ahead to get the door, holding it open for her. “Wait, we’re allowed to mention what we do, right? Just not names?”

“Or locations, even with travel distance. Round up to the hour if it comes up,” she replied.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed, trailing a step behind her as she led the way through the base.

In the common area, there was a bit of a ruckus happening. Soldier, Heavy, and Demo appeared to be having some kind of arm wrestling competition on a rapidly-toppling table, the Engineer was on a stepstool trying to fix the ceiling fan, and Sniper appeared to be half-watching the beginnings of an argument between Pyro and the Spy regarding use of the oven as Medic patched up a burn on his arm.

“Hullo,” Sniper greeted the two of them, sounding a little bored, Medic giving them a brief, polite nod. Normandy’s eyebrows were raised pretty far as he surveyed the room.

“Hi, Sniper,” she greeted in return, then cleared her throat, raised her voice. “Team meeting in five minutes! New mission for next week!”

Groans from the room at large, the eight mercenaries starting to finish up what they were doing and filing out. Spy moved over, glancing over Normandy and starting to talk to him in rapid-fire French, picking smaller bits of gravel off of his suit as they walked.

“Alright,” she addressed the room, Normandy peeling off from getting mother hen’d by Spy to stand next to the blackboard with her. “Monday, you’re all going on a transport mission. Getting the truck from point A to point B with everything in the boxes intact. Already we’ve had to put up with some people trying to get ahold of these things, so bring your guns.”

“Oh, our guns, you said? Lads, this is a serious one, keep your heads on a feckin' swivel, she’s sayin’ we might even need guns, can you believe it?” Demo faux-gasped, and chuckled when Spy bopped him on the arm, rolling his eyes at the Scot's theatrics.

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved off, flipping through the papers a bit. “So Engie, I’ll need the keys to the truck, me and Normandy are going to be loading those tomorrow, all of you need to be at this drop point bright and early.”

“How early?” Heavy rumbled.

“Six. Hour and a half of drive from here.”

Some complaints from the room that she sighed at.

“Hey, hey, calm the hell down,” Normandy cut in, and she glanced over at him where he had his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. “You chuckleheads get to have all eight of you to unload the damn thing, me and Miss P gotta do all the rest of this on our own and probably kill twenty guys on the way there and back. She had to be up at 6 AM, workin’ since 7 AM, lunch break at noon and nothin’ else, and we just got back now at, what, fuckin’, 10, 11 PM? Any of you work her shift and then see if you even got the energy to complain about wakin’ up early, how about that?”

The room went utterly devoid of complaint or backsass. “Thank you, Normandy,” she said politely, and he just nodded once, glancing off to the side. “Anyways, anything new on this end? Spy, how are you adjusting?”

“Very well,” he said simply. “I have nothing pressing to say. Once I’ve been updated from the stock weaponry provided here to my requested preferred weaponry, I believe I should do just fine.”

“I see you already have Herr Normandy digging graves,” Medic chimed in. “Straight into the hard labor, ja?”

“Eh, hey, y’know, it’s why they keep us young people around,” he shrugged, grinning, and there was a brief uproar to drown out Medic’s entirely offended scoffing and Spy’s snort-laughing.

“Get ‘im, lad!” Demo cheered, and Normandy indeed looked fairly proud of himself.

“Monday, transport mission,” Pauling noted over the noise, writing it up on the chalkboard to hide her own smile from the room. “Normandy, you and me are doing the boxes tomorrow. Everyone on the same page? Good. Dismissed. Oh, and Pyro—stop taking the fire alarms down when they beep. They’re beeping because you light things on fire in the base. Do that outside.”

“Oh, hey, uh, helmet guy, All-American Beef,” Normandy called, and Soldier straightened up. “Here’s your shovel back. Gettin’ my own tomorrow.”

 Soldier walked directly over to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s a high honor, Cadet,” he said, tone grave. “Do not take this responsibility lightly.”

“I, uh, I won’t?” he said hesitantly, and blinked a few times as the shovel was carefully taken from him before it was promptly marched from the room in double-time. Only then did Normandy look over at her. “So he’s always like that?”

“You’ll get used to it,” she assured, dusting chalk from her hands. “You should get to sleep soon, we have to be up early.”

“Sure thing, Miss P.”

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #my fanfiction #dad!spy #father-son bonding au #shut up me #que?#in this au he picks a fake name like she does. later i think demo starts calling him norman and some of the others do as well as goofs #also apologies for montgomery i couldnt quite get away with not naming random rich guy. just barely scraped by with guards one through four #everybody talks

111 notes · View notes

wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years ago

Text

Mystery Of Pixie Hollow by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 1/11

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche @jonesfandomfanatic

Chapter 1: Neverland

Emma stood at the register, a pile of coins and dollar bills sitting in front of her as she began counting her tips. She had been working nonstop for the last three weeks to save every dime she earned in order to take Henry on a special treat for his birthday. He had seen the flyer in the window of the diner after school one day, immediately calling the carnival to her attention. A traveling amusement park themed to the story of Peter Pan was visiting their town. Henry hadn’t stopped asking questions about it since.

Do fairies really exist?

Can Peter Pan actually fly?

If I really believe do you think I can fly when I’m there too?

With his birthday approaching, Emma knew the best birthday gift she could give him was a trip to the park when it came to town. It was only visiting for three days, and Henry had been completely gutted when they fell on Emma’s weekend at the diner. He had been putting on his best face when she got home from work, her feet tired from standing all day, reciting to her his day, and trying to pretend that he wasn’t disappointed after sitting all day listening to the sounds of the park lofting through his window.

She could barely contain her secret last night when she tucked him into bed, and he told her that he got to spend the day watching Peter Pan skip through the park and it was just as good as being there.

Henry was such a sweet boy, he never asked for things he knew he couldn’t have. He knew that money was tight for them. Emma had been on her own ever since she gave birth to the boy, his father was long out of the picture before he was even born. It wasn’t that the boy was ever without something important, Emma made sure that she saved her money to spend it on things he needed, and when she couldn’t afford it, her best friend, Will Scarlet always pitched in to help her out.

Which was what had happened with Henry’s birthday gift this year. Emma had saved almost enough for the admission price but knew that Henry would want tickets to ride the rides and play a few games, and of course Will tossed some money into the pot, so that the three of them could enjoy the last day of the park together.

“Did you save enough?” She turned to see her boss Mrs. Lucas approach her from the kitchen.

“I made $25 bucks today, I should be able to get him some dinner while we are there.” She said with a smile.

“Get him something from me too while you’re there.” She responded as she held out her hand, a white envelope in her palm. “It’s his birthday after all.”

Emma tentatively took the envelope, lifting the top to see a crisp $20 bill tucked inside. “Gran, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but it’s his birthday, just be sure to tell him it’s from Gran.” She reached out and hugged the woman, a smile growing on her face. The bell above the door made a sound and they both turned to see the customer walk into the diner. “Get out of here, you’re off the clock.”

Emma looked at her watch. “I still have ten minutes left in my shift.”

The woman shook her head and pulled out her notepad to assist the man who sat down at the counter. “Clock must be slow.” She said with a grin. “Get out of here. Take that boy of yours on an adventure.”

“Thank you, see you tomorrow.” She hollered back as she ran out the door to her yellow bug parked outside the diner. She couldn’t wait to get home and tell Henry they were going to Pixie Hollow.

When she opened the door to her apartment, Henry was running circles around the couch as Will chased him through the living room. “You can’t get away from me, mate.”

“You’re too old to catch me.” Henry hollered and Will stopped in his tracks and grabbed his chest.

“Oi, that was quite rude.” He said in a feigned outrage. “I’m not that old.”

Emma laughed and they both turned toward her. “Mom!” Henry ran and wrapped his arms around her waist.

“The lad is being hurtful on his birthday.” Will scoffed.

“Tell your Uncle Will that you’re sorry for calling him old.” She leaned over and whispered. “But say it loudly because his hearing isn’t what it used to be.” Henry fell to the ground in a fit of giggles.

“You know he gets his mean spirted nature from you, right?” Will complained.

“We love you.” She teased as she ran her hand through his short locks and pinched his cheek. She turned and faced Henry.

“Why are you home? I thought you had to work tonight.”

“I wanted to surprise you!” She grinned. “Thought maybe we could go see this Peter Pan you keep talking about.”

Henry’s face brightened. “Seriously? Oh my God.” He squealed “You mean it?”

“Happy birthday, baby.” She smiled. The boy launched himself into her arms. “Ok we gotta get ready to go, get your jacket in case it gets cold after the sun goes down.”

Henry disappeared in a fury to his room to collect his jacket, just as Will’s phone rang.

“Don’t answer it.” Emma protested as he held up the phone and Will groaned.

“It’s work, I can’t ignore it.” Emma groaned as he greeted his boss, a chorus of “Yes, sir” “I know, sir” “Of course, sir.” Carried through the room.

“Yes but I was planning to…” He frowned. “I understand, of course, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He said sadly. Henry came bounding into the room as he disconnected the call.

“You’re going in to work now?” Emma complained.

“I’m sorry Em, it can’t be helped. They had some sort of emergency, and they need me there right away.”

“So, we aren’t going?” Henry said sadly, looking up between them. Will hesitated, staring between the two. Emma knew he wouldn’t disappoint Henry if it couldn’t be helped.

“I’m sorry lad, I don’t have a choice.”

“We’re still going Henry.” Emma announced.

“Emmie, you can’t go alone.” Will began to protest.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Stop it, I’m an adult. I don’t need you to babysit me everywhere we go.”

“I’m not there to babysit you, I just don’t like it when you and Henry are out late at night without someone else with you.”

“Without a man with me, you mean. I don’t know if you realize this yet, but I don’t need a man, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Are you sure you two will be alright?”

Emma chuckled. “I think I can handle a carnival for children on my own.”

“Alright, but text me when you get there, and again when you get home.”

“Ok dad.” She teased and he slapped her playfully on the arm.

“Happy birthday, Bub.” He picked the boy off the ground and squeezed him. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“That’s impossible.” The boy replied.

“Did I tell you that you’re my favorite six-year-old out of all the six-year-old kids out there?”

“But I just turned six. You don’t even know all the six-year-old kids.” Henry wined with a playful smile.

“I don’t have to because you’re still my favorite.”

“You said that when I was five.”

“And I’ll say it when you’re seven or fifteen.” Will said as he sat the boy back on the ground.

“I love you, Uncle Will.”

“Love you too Bub.” He raised his hand, and they exchanged their ridiculous handshake that they had made up when Henry had turned four.

Two taps, spin around, tap down low, shake your booty, tap up high.

It was ridiculous and heartwarming and a reminder of how lucky she was to have such an amazing best friend. Even when she showed up on his doorstep, a positive pregnancy test in her hand, tears streaming down her face, Will simply pulled her into his arms and promised he would always be there for her. Over the years he had been her shoulder to cry on, her Lamaze coach, her sounding board, and her support system. Even with the one drunken misstep that neither of them ever spoke of again, there wasn’t anyone that Emma relied on more than Will.

“Ok I’m off, have fun tonight.” He smiled and left through the front door. As soon as the door closed Henry jumped up and down in front of her.

“Can we go now?” Emma chuckled and pushed him toward the door.

“Of course, let’s go.”

“You have to say it mom.”

“Say what?” She asked, confused on what he was meaning.

“Second star to the right.” He began excitedly.

“And straight on til morning.” She continued as they closed the door to the apartment and made their way to the park across the street. The lights shone bright into the sky with all the rides and attractions that had their own music playing all around them as soon as they entered the park.

Henry could barely contain his excitement as he bounced about from ride to ride. More than once Emma had to remind him to stay close by, not to get too far ahead of her, but the boy was hard to be contained.

“Mom, look, it’s a house of mirrors, can we go, can we go?” He jumped up and down in front of her.

“Ok, but don’t get too far ahead of me.” Emma laughed as he handed his ticket to the man at the front of the attraction. She didn’t like the way the man glared in her direction, there was something about him that made her uncomfortable in a way that caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. Henry ran ahead into the building and Emma yelled for him to wait as the man seemed to take an extra-long time to allow her to enter behind her son.

When he finally raised the gate, she ran toward the fun house, entering the building and exhaling when she saw Henry standing at the corner waiting for her. “Come on mom, this is so cool.”

“It’s very cool.” Emma replied, looking around the disorienting room. The mirrors at all angles making it appear that Henry was in more than one place in front of her.

“You could get lost in here for days.” He joked as he stepped into the room, his arms outstretched in front of him to avoid running into anything.

“Let’s try and avoid getting lost, I’m starting to get hungry.” She joked.

“Come on mom, I bet you can’t find which one is really me.” Henry yelled, rushing forward, and turning a corner until she couldn’t see him anymore.

“Don’t get too far ahead of me.” She warned, turning the corner he was just at and seeing three versions of him in front of her. “Ok which one is my Henry?” She questioned as she stepped forward, her hand coming into contact with a mirror. She then touched the one next to her but that was a mirror as well.

“I’m right here.” Her son mimicked, before running around the corner again.

“You’re too good at this.” She chuckled, turning, and chasing after him until she ran into one of the glass mirrors. She really hated this attraction. “Ok Henry, I’m really getting hungry. Which way did you go?”

“I’m over here.” She heard him toward her left and she turned to stumble in that direction as she caught a glimpse of him just as she turned the corner.

“Henry, can you just stay in one place until I get to you.” Her tone was starting to sound agitated as she felt her way through the glass around her, dipping in and out of the crevices until she reached a dead end.

“Henry, where are you?” She yelled.

“Mom.” She heard him shout and then it got quiet.

“Henry?” She hollered toward the last place she heard his voice. She felt her way through the attraction until she heard music and felt the breeze of the outside, stepping through the small doorway, she found herself on the other side from where they entered. She looked around for Henry, but only saw other children, families standing around the exit area.

“Did you see a little boy come out of here?”

“I’ve seen a lot of little boys.” The guy grumbled and wandered away from her.

“Henry, where are you?” She yelled, trying to control her voice as the terror started to race in her heart. “Henry?” She ran toward the entrance and the man who took her ticket. “Where is my son, did he come back out this way?”

The man frowned, “No one comes back out the front ma’am. Did you check the exit?”

“Of course, I checked the exit, you idiot, how else did I get out here!” She yelled and he turned to take a ticket from another family.

“I need you to find my son.” She grabbed at the lapel of his jacket and turned him back toward her.

“Hands off lady.” The man warned. “I’ll get my manager.”

“Good, get your manager. I need to find my son.”

The family tried to push past her, and Emma stood in front of them, blocking the exit. “My son got lost in there.”

“It’s not my problem that you can’t keep an eye on your boy, get out of my daughter’s way.” The man pushed around her, leading his daughter into the entrance of the attraction.

Emma ran after them, and the ticket idiot was on her heels. “You can’t go in there without another ticket.”

Emma shoved his hands off her, “Get off me, I’m going in there until I find my son.” She screamed, wandering back into the fun house, her heart racing as she turned in every direction screaming her son’s name. “Henry, where are you?” She yelled, pushing forward through the maze. There was no response except for the grumbling of the people in front of her who she continued to push aside in her quest to find her son.

When she reached the exit again she immediately screamed his name, grabbing at random strangers to ask if they had seen her son, a photo of him pulled up on her phone. Suddenly she was grabbed from behind and she turned quickly to see the ticket asshole with a man. “You can’t go around grabbing our customers.” The man sternly growled at her.

“My son is missing. He went in the hall of mirrors, and he didn’t come out.”

“That’s impossible. There is only one way in and one way out. He must have come out; you’ve just lost him.”

“I didn’t lose him.” She cried. “Don’t you have something you can do. Call the cops, make an announcement, just find my son.”

“Of course, I’m Felix. I’m the assistant manager. Let me make a few calls.” He said with a grin that certainly didn’t set her at ease. There was something off about the man, something menacing and scary, and Emma just wanted to get her son and get the hell away from all of them. “Come with me.” He didn’t ask but tugged at her elbow. “Nothing to see here, she just lost her child.” He announced to the people who had suddenly taken an interest in the commotion.

Emma was too concerned about her child to admonish the bystanders for gawking at her, their looks of contention and disappointment apparent on their faces as if they just watched an irresponsible parent simply leave their child by the side of the road instead of the fact that her son vanished without a trace.

“Ok ma’am can you explain to me what you think happened to your son?” The man closed the door to the trailer and gestured for her to take a seat in the dingy office.

“What I know” she paused, “was that my son and I went into the Hall of Mirrors and when I got to the exit, he wasn’t there.”

“Do you normally let your son run off without you?”

“Excuse me?” She stood up from her seat. “He did not run off without me, he was playing in the goddamn funhouse with me in the room.”

“Yes ma’am so you said, however if he was simply playing with you, then you would know where he was, isn’t that correct?”

Emma was done with this man’s treatment of her, she was done with people not ripping that god forsaken fun house to the ground until they came upon her little boy. She pushed her way past the man and shoved the door open, ignoring his plea for her to stay put. As soon as she stepped out of the trailer, two men approached her.

“Are you the woman who lost her son?”

Emma recognized their badges and the names on them from the Sherriff’s station. “Thank God you are here, these idiots won’t do anything to find my son.”

“I’m officer Nolan, and this is officer Locksley, can you tell me what happened?”

Emma took a deep breath, “My son, Henry, he just turned 6, it’s his birthday today.” Tears started to fall down her cheeks. “We went into the Hall of Mirrors, he was playing hide and seek and trying to get me to find him, but then he called out for me, and I couldn’t find him anymore. When I got to the exit, he wasn’t there, and no one can tell me where he is.”

“So, he wasn’t with you in the Hall of Mirrors?”

“Did you just hear me? I told you we went in together. He was only a few feet in front of me, it’s not like I let my fucking kid just run around alone.”

The man held up his hand. “Alright ma’am, there is no need to get upset.”

“No need to get upset.” She stated, shocked at the audacity this man had standing in front of her like everything was normal that was happening to her. “I lost my son. My baby is out there somewhere, and no one will fucking help me.”

Officer Nolan stepped forward and took her by the elbow. “Ma’am, if you keep cursing in front of the children here, we are going to have to take you down to the station to discuss this matter.”

“Matter!” She yelled. “My son is missing; I don’t give a fuck what you think about my goddamn cursing. Find my son!”

“Is it possible that he simply ran away?” The other man asked.

“Ran away? Why would you even think he would run away?”

“Is his father here with you?”

“Why does that matter?”

“I’m simply asking if the boy could be with his father.”

Emma shook her head. “No, his father isn’t around. He’s most definitely not with that asshole.”

“So, the situation with the father, it’s contentious then?”

Emma couldn’t believe the crap she was hearing. “This has nothing to do with his father. He’s lost, he’s probably scared and all you can do is sit here and ask me stupid questions that aren’t doing anything to find him.”

The men looked at each other and nodded, Officer Locksley stepped into the trailer and shut the door behind him. “My partner is just going to talk to the manager and find out if they know anything else.”

“He’s the assistant manager and he knows jack shit.” She said as she rolled her eyes.

The door to the trailer opened and he gestured for his partner to join him. They whispered at the door for a moment and then returned in front of her, closing their notebooks. “Ma’am, I’m going to give you my business card, we can’t do anything about a runaway until after 24 hours. If he still hasn’t come home by then, give us a call.”

“I already fucking told you he’s not a goddamn runaway.”

“Ok ma’am, we’re going to have to take you down to the station if you can’t control yourself.” She felt their hands on her arms and she pulled away from them, holding her hands in the air.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Well, you can’t stay here.” He announced, looking back at the ridiculous assistant manager who was glaring at her.

“So, I’m supposed to just leave my kid?”

“Most times, they show up in the morning, a little scared, hungry, and apologetic for causing a scare. Go home and get some sleep, they usually show back up at home.”

Emma couldn’t believe this was happening, that she was just supposed to go home and leave Henry out here, lost. She looked toward the fun house, wanting to make a run back to it, wanting to search frantically for anything she could find, but she knew he wasn’t there. Something had happened to Henry.

“Ma’am. We need you to leave or come with us.” They stepped toward her, and Emma backed up from her spot. She surveyed the crowd and then paused.

“I’m going.” She announced, turning on her heels and storming toward the exit. When she got to her house she climbed the stairs, screaming her son’s name, hoping he would answer and explain that he got lost and simply went home, but the house was still, dark, and ominously quiet. She went into Henry’s room and pulled open the curtains, the lights from the fair spilling into the window. She pulled the chair over to the wall and sat down, staring at the scene in front of her. She would wait there until she found him, until he made his way back to the house.

Looking down at her phone, she sent another text to Will asking him to call her immediately. Pulling a blanket around her she sat and waited.

Henry, where are you?

~*~

Henry woke with a start, a painful beating in his head. He reached up and winced at the swollen knot on the back of his skull. He looked around in the dark, trying to figure out where he was. Just moments ago he was in the Hall of Mirrors with his mom, they were playing a game. He remembered seeing her, just a few feet away and then his back hit something solid and then it moved. Arms reached out and grabbed him and then everything went black.

He felt around on the ground below him, dirt digging into his fingernails. There was a small light coming in from a tiny opening up high in the room. He groaned as he tried to sit up.

“Don’t sit up too quickly, I’m sure you’re dizzy.”

He jumped at the sound of a female in the room. “Who’s there?”

A face came into view, the light streaming into the dark onto her golden hair. “It’s ok, just give it a minute. You can see in the dark after you get used to it.”

“My head hurts.” He groaned.

“It will only hurt for a couple of days. Then it will go away.” The girl moved closer to him, sitting down next to him.

“What do you want with me?”

“I’m a friend, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Where are we?”

“Underground. I don’t know really. We move around a lot.”

“Who’s we?”

“Pan’s crew.” The girl said softly, and Henry almost started laughing.

“As in Peter Pan? I must be dreaming. That’s what’s going on. This is a nightmare.”

“I wish it were, but sadly this is real. What’s your name?”

Henry peered at the girl in front of him. “I’m Henry.” Suddenly the shadows moved behind her and he pushed back against the wall.

“Don’t be afraid, they won’t hurt you.”

Henry stared at the faces of the children staring back at him. “Who are you people?”

“We’re the lost ones. Just like you.” She said sadly.

#mystery of pixie hollow #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan #captain swan modern au

24 notes · View notes

uncensored-aj · 4 years ago

Text

A night out (Rorschach x Reader)

(A/N- This is probably SO OUT OF CHARACTER and it's kind of dumb but I love Rorschach and wanted to write a self-indulgent ficlet)

(Warnings: EXTREMELY corny and self indulgent fluff, Cursing, mention of being followed/a stalker... nothing really that bad tbh.)

---

Rorschach wandered the streets of New York, the crisp chill of the night clearing his head more and more each second. Even though his friends had all been more than welcoming of his couch-surfing, he needed some time away from them. Time without the pressure of a case to solve.

His little bubble of quiet was burst by something odd, to say the least. A girl he'd briefly noticed a minute or two earlier strolled up to him, giving a wave and an excited "Hey!"

She threw her arms around his neck as if he were an old friend. She was wearing a small backpack over a hoodie with a band logo on it and looked no older than her early 20s.

Rorschach froze, confused. He obviously didn't know this girl.

"I am so sorry to just barge up like this but I'm pretty sure I'm being followed. Please just walk me to a bar or something." She whispered, sounding frantic. He looked around, seeing a suspicious looking guy a few hundred feet behind them. Rorschach nodded, playing his part and hugging the girl back. She looped her arm with his as they walked.

…

"What were you even doing out so late? Especially alone?” He asked after a few minutes.

"I dunno. I wanted to see the city at night, I guess. It was kinda dumb to go alone." She laughed, her tension melting. Her giggling strangely reminded Rorschach of the jingling sound her many bracelets and rings made. She un-looped her arm from his, thrusting her hand out for a handshake.

"I'm (Y/N). Thanks for helping me back there."

He returned her handshake, her fiery enthusiasm annoying and a little endearing at the same time.

"Just call me Rorschach." He said gruffly.

She flashed a toothy grin at him. "Pleasure to meet you. So.. where are we going?"

Rorschach shrugged. He didn't really have a destination. "You said to walk you to a bar..."

She groaned dramatically. "That would be so boring, though! A moody, mysterious stranger is far more interesting than a bar. I can't leave now. No way! You're stuck with me. Lets walk and talk a bit more.”

"Fine."

Rorschach let her lead, his own boredom convincing him to stick with this strange woman.

....

"Hey what's with that sign? It pretty neat, and the world IS burning... but why carry it around?" The girl asked after a few minutes of casual conversation that mostly consisted of her talking a lot and Rorschach giving small replies.

He shrugged. "Why deny the truth in the face of Armageddon?" He said rhetorically.

She chuckled, tilting her head at him. She broke into another grin. "Can I hold it?"

Rorschach looked deep in thought for a second, but before he'd thought about it for too long, she grabbed the sign anyway.

He huffed in annoyance and she just stuck her tongue out at him. But he didn't take it back. He instead watched as she twirled it around a few times and admired it.

"You are so weird. I like it!" She said matter-of-factly, handing it back.

Rorschach just rolled his eyes. He propped the sign in the opening of an alley, letting the girl take his hand and drag him along.

"How do you know someone's not gonna steal that thing? Or what if you don't remember where you left it?' She said

"I'll remember, trust me. Everyone knows it's mine."

He noted that she hadn't let go of his hand. He didn't think it meant much, and he didn't really mind, so he didn't pull away. She hummed absent-mindedly as she looked through random store windows.

A few minutes later, they came across an empty park, and the girl let go of his hand, making a beeline for the swings.

She sat, gesturing for him to follow. Under the soft glow of the park lights he could see her more clearly. Her face was flushed, her cheeks a bright pinkish-red from the cold.

“So what’s your story? Do you live here? In the city, I mean?”

Her question seemed innocent enough, but Rorschach knew the whole story seemed more sad than it actually was.

“Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

The girl laughed again…. She was impossibly bubbly. But paired with her unassumingly pretty face, it suited her.

“And you?” Rorschach gave her an opportunity to talk more…listening was easier for him anyway.

“Oh! I’m just visiting for the winter. But…I kind of want to stay longer. There’s so much beneath the surface here… so much to see and do. So many interesting people.” She nudged him.

“Interesting isn’t the word I’d use. More like dangerous. Someone like you…this city will tear you apart if you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

"....Do you really think the world is ending?" She asked after a long pause.

Rorschach shrugged. "Dunno. Probably. There's so much filth... Bad people doing fucked up stuff..."

"But there are still some good people.... You seem like a good enough guy. I mean, we've been hanging out alone for almost an hour now and you haven't tried anything suspicious. I knew my sixth sense was right."

Her eyes had the same glimmer as a kid telling a friend a secret.

"Sixth sense?" Rorschach asked, his interest piqued.

"Oh, You're suddenly curious for once?" She teased. "I have this sense about people. Like you, for instance. I can tell you're a loner. You think being alone is less complicated. You seem smart, and I think you're a good guy even though you're a bit rough around the edges."

He smiled a little at her observation. It felt strange, but good. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd relaxed like this.

Snow started to fall, a thick veil of white quickly covering the park.

(Y/N) tilted her head back to catch snowflakes on her tongue.

"Let's go get hot cocoa!" She exclaimed, pulling Rorschach from his swing.

"Ok..."

She gripped his hand like an excited kid, pulling him into the nearest 24 hour diner.

....

She giggled as she reached across the table, gently brushing snow from his hair.

"Why?" he muttered, cringing a little.

"Sorry." Her voice retreated with her hand. The red in her cheeks had lifted to a slight pink, but now her cheeks blazed again.

"I'm not really... good with people..." He said. His face showed no shame or remorse. This was just a fact.

"I get it. But.. why help me earlier? Why let me drag you around town all night?" She asked

He stared a her blankly for a long while. Just when she thought he wasn't going to say anything, he answered.

"You needed someone....Maybe I did too." He shrugged, mostly talking to himself.

The Waitress brought them their drinks, And they gladly accepted the warmth.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get hot cocoa! Black coffee is for Cops and School teachers running on empty.” The girl laughed.

“You like me. Why?” Rorschach said suddenly.

“Hmm… I dunno. Helping me lose that guy was the first thing…” She Began. “but you seem so confident in yourself. Like you aren’t bothered by anything. But you have these walls up to keep the world out. You seem like someone who needs help coming out of your shell. And besides, don't think you mind the company, or you’d have dropped me off at a bar an hour and a half ago.”

“I don’t have many friends. I’m not friendly or outgoing. I’m kind of a recluse most of the time. But that doesn't bother you. You’re like a tornado of post-teen energy. I can’t really look away at this point.” Rorschach admitted. And it was true. For some reason, she intrigued him.

“You’re adorable. So angsty. Like a ginger Bruce Wayne… just without all of the annoying ‘rich boy’ machismo.” The girl smirked into her mug of cocoa.

It was a strangely fitting assessment, little did she know.

“Adorable?” He looked at his companion as if she’s just spoken another language.

“Oh for sure! It’s funny though. You've got this... weirdly charming look to you.” Her analysis sounded lighthearted and informal, but something in her eyes told Rorschach that it was genuine.

He guessed if he were someone else he’d like her too. She was nice, in an energetic, ditzy sort of way. And he did find her pretty. Before he could reply, (Y/N) had her face pressed against the glass of the window beside her, admiring the snow.

He took the opportunity to change the subject.

"You like the Snow?" He noted.

"I love it. I'm from the south... We never get to see it." She said longingly.

"Maybe if you stay in the city you could see it more often." Rorschach muttered.

Her eyes were practically stars when she turned to smile at him.

"You think I should stay? But I thought you said it was dangerous."

"That was when you didn't know anyone here. You know someone now."

He sipped his coffee, his eyes flicking away from hers for a few long seconds.

“It’s getting kind of late. Whaddaya say, handsome… walk me home?” She said hopefully.

“…Ok.”

They payed for their drinks, and ventured back out onto the icy sidewalk.

(Y/N) grabbed Rorschach’s hand again as they walked. And, once again, he didn’t protest.

She yawned, leaning against him a bit.

“I’ve had the best time. I’m glad I saw you earlier.” She grinned.

“Letting you drag me around town isn’t the worst night I’ve had…” he replied.

A few minutes later, they arrived at an apartment building.

“Well…this is me. Thanks for the nice night.”

She fished a sharpie out of her backpack, grabbing his hand and scribbling her number on it.

“If you ever find yourself bored and want some company, let me know.” She said.

“I will.” He said, his hand suddenly feeling cold when she let go.

After a few seconds of tense silence, she finally balled her fists into the fabric of his coat, bringing him down for a kiss.

It was quick, and sweet… the same as the night they’d just had.

“Take it easy, Rorschach. And call me.”

With that, she gave a small wave as she disappeared inside.

“What the fuck…”

Rorschach repeated the question to himself dozens of times on the way back to Nite Owl’s apartment.

#sorry if it’s super bad #but I FINALLY finished a oneshot #for ONCE.#so I’m proud #rorschach #watchmen

31 notes · View notes

sisterspooky1013 · 4 years ago

Text

Perfect Opposites, chapter two

Rating: General Audiences

Read it on AO3

Tagging @today-in-fic

You all requested a chapter two, so here it is

I couldn’t forget it if I tried. I’ve turned it over in my memory so many times by now that it comes back to me like a well trained muscle repeating a familiar movement. There were a lot of little moments before that, but this one in particular stands out because it was the first one where I realized that he felt the same way I did.

We were an odd pairing from the start; he a pragmatic, analytical planner and me an idealistic, carefree dreamer. He used to call me a “loose cannon” and at first it was truly meant as an insult, said in a moment of frustration, but over time it became a term of endearment. That first day we worked together, I immediately noticed how handsome he was, tall and blonde with a square jaw and slim hips. He was so stoic, and my attempts to get to know him were met with one-word answers and pleas to focus on our assignment. I knew that I wasn’t bad-looking, and in fact I was quite used to men responding to me readily, so it felt like a fun challenge to try and crack his shell. I wasn’t trying to sleep with him; I was smart enough to know what that would do to my reputation. I was one of the first dozen female field agents to serve and I wasn’t about to blow it for all the others by hopping right into bed with my partner. But I was intrigued by his guarded demeanor, and the more he resisted me the more I wanted to know him. He insisted on calling me Rogers, even though I asked him repeatedly to call me Bridget. At first I called him Harry, but then I started calling him Hansen just to make a point and it stuck. It became a dance; I would tease and flirt with him, he would ignore my advances while we worked a case, and every once in a while he would give me a little something. First, it was little jokes, told so dryly that I had to look for the barely-there smirk on his lips to be sure he was intentionally being funny. Getting him to smile was a game in and of itself, but when I got one it was like magic. He was so beautiful when he smiled, and it became a drug I was always seeking. Over time, little by little, he started to trust me, and confide in me. He turned off the AM radio on our long drives and talked to me, not just about work.

One day he turned to me while we were driving, smiling about some stupid program he’d seen on TV the night before, and I realized that I was in love with him. I can’t say now when that happened, exactly, but in that moment I knew it, and that started the years of pushing it down, of going out with other men and pretending that he wasn’t the only one I wanted. It was so hard and heartbreaking, and I thought about asking to be reassigned dozens of times, but I couldn’t give up on the chance to be near him every day. As different as we were, he complimented me so perfectly that he became my equilibrium, the thing that grounded me to the place I was in space and time. I didn’t know how to exist without him. I was faced with an impossible choice; leave the bureau and try to have a happy life without the other half of my heart, or stay and resign to a life of pining for him across the console of our rental car. Of course there really wasn’t a choice. I could no sooner have left him than I could have chosen not to breathe anymore.

I’ve thought about that September night so many times, I can still remember the way his gingham table cloth felt under my fingertips as I nervously traced its pattern, waiting for the news I had been dreading for the last three years. He’d been seeing someone, and I just knew he was going to tell me it was getting serious, that they were getting engaged. I was afraid that I would cry, and he would ask me why, and then he’d know. He was sitting close, closer than most people would to their coworker, but that’s how we were. And he was telling me about this woman, Donna, and I felt so sick.

“I broke it off with her” he had said, and I looked at him, confused. “It just wasn’t right, Rogers. She’s a nice lady, but it just…it didn’t feel right. She’s not the one.”

I was so flooded with relief that I actually did start crying, and of course he was confused. Why would I be crying because he broke up with his girlfriend? He knelt down in front of me, and he held my hands in his, and he was just so sweet. He was always so sweet with me.

“Rogers, what’s wrong? Are you upset about Donna?”

I didn’t know what else to say, or how else to explain it, so I just nodded.

“I know we seemed like a good match, but she’s not the one. She’s the kind of person I always thought I’d end up with, but I’m realizing that I was wrong about what I wanted. About who I wanted.”

I looked at him then, at his crystal blue eyes. It felt like he was looking straight into my soul. He was searching my face like he was looking for an answer, but didn’t know what the question was.

“Bridget, have you ever just realized all of a sudden that everything you thought you knew was wrong?”

He called me by my first name. I nodded, and I thought of that moment in the car. And he was still looking all over my face, and at my mouth, and it felt like we were suspended in space, adrift in a moment that could never go forward or backward. Stuck until we made a choice. We had to make a choice.

He kissed me then, so softly, and we returned to Earth together, having found new ground. Having found each other. Even though we’d worked together and been best friends for 8 years, something entirely new was born that night, and we spent the next 20 years making up for the 8 we had wasted.

I was thinking about this at my retirement party, while the other agents ate grocery store cake and politely looked at photos of my grandchildren. When Agents Mulder and Scully walked in, I couldn’t suppress my smile. Agent Scully walked over to me with a secret smile on her lips, one she always sent my way when we were in the same room together. We had never spoken of our conversation in the bathroom last year, but she always went out of her way to say hi to me.

“Agent Hansen, congratulations” she said warmly, taking my hand in what felt more like a hand-hug than a handshake.

“Thank you, Agent Scully. I look forward to spending more time with my grandchildren.”

Agent Mulder walked up then. He sure was a handsome man, and somehow seemed to get better looking as the years went by.

“Agent Hansen, the time has come!” He said jovially. “I only wish Harry could be here retiring alongside you, he would have loved this little shindig.” There was heavy sarcasm in his tone; he knew Harry would have hated the fuss.

“You knew Harry Hansen?” Agent Scully asked him with genuine surprise.

“Of course, we worked together in VCU. I liked to give him a hard time. He reminded me a lot of you, actually” he said to Agent Scully with a gentle nudge of his elbow to her ribs.

“Sounds like he was a great guy” she joked, then “we have to catch a flight out for a case, Agent Hansen, but I wanted to come by and say goodbye. It’s been such a pleasure working with you.”

Agent Mulder looked at her a little quizzically, but I understood the meaning behind what she was saying. I shook her hand again, and held it in a little squeeze.

“I hope you’ll remember what I said” I told her, and she nodded once before they turned to leave. I was happy to be retiring, but I would miss watching them together and would always wonder if they ever found their way to each other.

A few months later, I was at the 7-11 picking up donuts for my grandsons when I heard a familiar voice in the next aisle. It was Agent Mulder, on his cell phone.

“Hey, sleepy head… It’s after 9, that’s hardly early… Well what were you doing staying up so late last night?” He chuckled, and the innuendo was clear even from the bit of the conversation I could hear. I felt sadness tug at my heart thinking that he was seeing someone, and how Agent Scully must feel. I knew exactly how she’d feel.

“We’ll I’m getting you breakfast now, and coffee, so hopefully that helps…I was thinking we could go to Annapolis tonight, there’s one of those movie in the park things, we could stop by and see your mom first…because no one in Annapolis knows us, so maybe you’ll actually be willing to be seen in public with me…you know what I mean, outside of work”

I couldn’t help but smile from my hiding spot behind the donut case. He was talking to Agent Scully.

“…well, think about and you can decide later….yes, I’ll be back in 15 minutes, go back to sleep if you want…Love you, bye.”

He paid and left, and an idea started cooking in my head. Annapolis wasn’t that far of a drive, and I didn’t exactly have an active social calendar. I just wanted to see them together again, one more time.

My plan had been to get there early so I’d be sure to catch them as they arrived, but through a combination of traffic, my own poor navigation skills (that had always been Harry’s strong suit) and lack of parking, I walked in to a full lawn and the previews already starting. Thankfully, her red hair was easy to spot and I found a place for my blanket just a few feet behind them. It was a little too close, and made the odds they would see and recognize me higher than I would have liked, but soon enough it was clear that it wouldn’t be an issue. They were in their very own universe, bordered by the ugly brown Aztec blanket they sat on. Agent Mulder was reclined against a cooler with Agent Scully between his legs, leaning against his torso like an Adirondack chair, his arms wrapped around her. He whispered in her ear and kissed her neck as she giggled. They looked more like two teenagers on a date than two federal agents and it reminded me of so many nights Harry and I snuck off for dates in some forgettable city after wrapping up a case, freed from the risk that someone from the bureau would see us together and report our relationship. Those were some of the most exciting times in my life, and watching them now…I felt the tears bubbling up in my eyes. They were happy tears, full of memories and love and hope. Full of the promise of a relationship forged in fire and turmoil, sealed by dedication and hard work. I knew I’d have to go visit Harry the next day and tell him all about it, and remember with him how clumsy and awkward we were in the beginning, peeling each other’s armor away slowly until it was just us, unguarded and vulnerable and the most seen we had ever been by another person, or ever would be again.

By the end of the movie, they were spooned together under the stars, the relative darkness allowing for a kind of public intimacy that would normally be out of place. She had fallen asleep, and Agent Mulder was watching her, tracing a finger along the shell of her ear before placing a kiss to her temple. He sighed and I could hear him whisper to no one in particular “my perfect opposite.”

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #xf fanfic

26 notes · View notes

foryouthegays · 4 years ago

Text

Forming a secret organization [Dream SMP] liveblog and summary!

Good laugh times: 7:40, 1:18:15, 1:19:25

Protect mr philza minecraft from baby zombies (he really went all out on that bit today): 20:35, 32:40 34:45, 1:16:35

Sellout pog: 30:45, 1:00:50, 1:30:55, 2:01:15

Summary:

Techno started the stream in the Nether. He quickly went back to the overworld and to his house, where he meets up with Phil and Ranboo. He mentions that the house smells like gunpowder, and Phil quickly ushers them outside and they continue their conversation.

Techno nudges Ranboo away from the conversation, and he leaves the call. Phil and Techno watch as Ranboo leaves the house, and then Techno tells Phil his news. He talks about how taking down L’Manburg wasn’t the greatest plan, especially as he’s only one person. He wants to bring other people to their anarchist ways.

Phil agrees to form a secret organization for anarchists, because they can’t fight ten to one.

Techno and Phil go to Ranboos house, asking for a feather, and Ranboo asks if he’s getting kicked out. They say no, and then Ranboo says that he has something that might get him kicked out.

He talks about how he sometimes doesn’t remember what he does, and that he was the person who blew up the community house.

Techno asks why, and Ranboo says he doesn’t know.

Phil and Techno agree that they don’t really care about the community house, and Ranboo continues, saying that he has one of the discs. Phil and Techno agree again that they don’t care about the discs at all.

Techno and Phil leave.

Techno leads Phil to a stronghold, which he calls a ‘structure,’ and they cover it with gravel to hide it. They enter the structure, and they find a library, some useless doors, and keep exploring, finding nothing. Techno is confused, thinking that there had to have been a reason for the stronghold's existence.

While looking at a connected Abandoned Mineshaft, Techno finds an enchanted golden apple.

They go into the lower parts of the stronghold, and they find a prison. Techno mentions that the bread he found earlier tasted around 2,000 years old, which gives us a rough (and joking) estimate of when the stronghold was made.

Phil finds a strange portal, and they talk about how advanced the previous civilization must had been, to be able to make unbreakable blocks. They hear a villager writing, and dig up to a strange room.

It ends up being the igluu where Orphans parents lived, and they start laughing, but then, DreamXD logs in. He breaks the portal, and then leaves. Techno begs dream to put the portal back, because it would’ve added to the lore, and that their characters didn’t know what it was, and were going to use it as a table.

Dream logs in again, and puts one (1) portal frame block down, and then leaves again. Phil tells Dream how to place the blocks incorrectly so they wouldn’t form a portal, and he logs in to place them back.

DreamXD hears Techno joking about going to the end, logs in, and then logs out when Techno says he’s joking. Then, Techno explains the difference between DreamXD and Dream, saying that DreamXD has canonical access to creative mode, and is like God, but Dream is just some homeless teletubby. DreamXD logs in, says ‘they actually are I am the protector,” and logs out.

In chat, Techno asks ‘who was that dram fanboy, how did he get whitelisted,’ and DreamXD logs in again, hits Techno with a sword a few times, and logs out.

Techno and Phil decorate the meeting room a bit, and they start talking about what the association should be called. Techno says that he wants it to be the ‘[blank] Syndicate,’ and before they can agree on anything, Ranboos nametag is spotted, and they agree to kill him if he comes into the meeting room.

Techno puts down a sign with the organization's motto, which is ‘Sic semper tyrannis,’ which means ‘thus always to tyrants.’

He starts writing in the manifesto.

“This syndicate is formed to promote anarchy and fight tyranny in all its forms.

“We shall have no Leader; no member shall be compelled to act if they do not choose to.

“No member shall reveal information about the Syndicate to outsiders.

“Technoblade shall serve as the Recruiter to induce new members into the Syndicate with Approval from a Majority of members.”

Phil and Techno leave the Stronghold, and realize that the Igluu wasn’t actually Orphans parents, but instead a different Igluu that Ranboo had been using for Cartographers. They go back to the house, planning to meet with Ranboo, but on the way, they find a strange tower made of stone. Its hollow, but theres no chests or anything inside. They continue and meet with Ranboo, who has gifts for them. Techno gets a Netherite shovel with Efficiency V, Mending, Silk Touch, and Unbreaking III.

He brings them under his house, and we find he has a ‘comfort room,’ made of netherrack, that has several mob heads on the walls, an extra set of armor, and pets sitting next to the ladder. They talk about the map on the wall, and Techno seems concerned, or a bit scared.

Techno and Phil leave the call, and talk about how extremely strange the room, and Ranboo, was. They recount their adventure, and move the villagers into a more efficient layout. Ranboo joins them after a few minutes, at 1:38:00, and they work on curing the zombie villagers and giving them jobs

Liveblog:

I love when technos computer says he isnt streaming so he just rambles about that before it says he does and then he does the starting the streammm thing. Also if u havent heard the starting the streammmm thing u r missing out it is amazin

Techno pls get a new laptop im gonna cry

HE SAID THREE HE SAID THREE if u dont know, techno says three v nicely

“I havent even shown you the secrets, how would you guys be able to snitch??” SIR????

Oh my god is he using his phone to read chat,,,,,i hate him i hate him so much u haVE 5 MIL SUBS AND CANT EVEN GET A SECOND MONITOR WHYY

Ranboo!!! Philza minecraft!!!!! Hi!!!

5:40 ‘why does it smell like gunpowder?’ Techno there is no smell in minecraft. Lore pog?

6:45 AKDFJGLSA RANBOOS FUNDY IMPRESSION IM

8:45 ‘any second now its gonna be 11 percent updated, and thats like halfway done, if you think about it’ adhd autism solidarity right there lmao

I dont think techno can physically pay attention to lore for more than a minute at a time. He just like, sees a dog and zooms in on it while someones talking and its such a mood. All techno know is get distracted, kill orphans, protect philza minecraft, and anarchy. Love him

10:45 he just got COMPLETELY distracted w his laptop im actually crying form laughter

So uh. 17 mins in. Techno (without saying anything). Kills a zombie that was trying to kill ranboo. Thats. Thats a thing he only does for people he trusts. Uhhh

Technos voice at 21:30,,,,,,hhghn why is he like this why is he randomally doing weird voices

26:35 ‘hacker voice: were in’ HGKDFJSL

Ok but techno making fun of doors is so funny tho. Also he rlly did go all out on the baby zombie bit tdoay im actually crying

Techno when phils being chased by two creepers, a few zombies, and skeletons: i do not see it

Techno when phils being chased by one (1) baby zombie: loOK OUT PHILZA MINECRAFT

42:00 god apple poggggg

45:50 techno sir why do u know what 2,000 year old bread tastes like

Dsmp techno :handshake: minecraft story mode techno

Hating doors

Dsmp techno :handshake: smp earth techno

Living right above a stronghold

48:35 ‘dude, they had all this super advanced technology because they didnt waste time trying to figure out how to make doors’ FSKHGJDAL

50:25 UH?? WHAT IS THAT LMAO

OH ITS ORPHANS PARENTS LMAOOOO

GDFJKHSL DREAM HI

51 MINS IN HGJSKDFJASL DREAM PUT IT BACK IT WAS A GOOD TABLE DREAM

56:25 ‘listen, I’ve read a lot of mythology Phil, and nothing bad has ever happened from angering the gods.’ You SURE about that?

I will actually never get over techno making fun of dream its so funny to me 1:01:10

I am so, so extremely queer for technos planning/schemeing voice like when its kinda quieter and deeper n slower? Hhgnn

Also is latin canon in this universe? Pog

Asmr Technoblade makes a cult :)

Ok ok ok ok SO i know that techno wants to make all the members equal (and i do think that hell try his best to make that possible) but bc hes just,,,so FREAKING powerful both in terms of pvp and resources, i feel like his opinion IS gonna matter more, but also im p sure hes the writer of the arc so like. He has more important opinions anyway so unless he is v obviously controlling the other members of the group, i think this could be a fun collab thing. And i am SO excited to see all yalls analysis for what other people think of him ahhHHH i love analysis.

1:17:10 “whose idea was it to make baby zombies stronger? Why are the babies stronger?? Have you ever fought a baby in real life? I have, and it was trivially easy to defeat, Phil.” TECHNO????

Also i can NOT believe that someone thinks techno doesnt use dark humor,,,,have u WATCHED his videos?????

1:25:05 Like literally RIGHT after he makes a joke abt how ranboos shovel’ll be good for digging graves for his enemies, which was taking soooo long before

Ah yes, technoblade, the 21 yr old child 1:28:40

19 notes · View notes

eclecticmuses · 4 years ago

Photo

The Past That Stands Between Us

Author: @eclecticmuses Rating: Mature Chapter: 19/20 Relationships/Characters: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons, Daisy Johnson, Alistair Fitz, Alphonso ‘Mack’ Mackenzie, Elena Rodriguez, Holden Radcliffe, Leo Fitz’s Mother, Daniel Sousa, Enoch, AIDA (mentioned) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Drama & Romance, Fluff & Angst, Doubt, Secrets, Manipulation, Mild Sexual Content, Angst With a Happy Ending, Background Daisy/Sousa Summary: When Jemma Simmons meets famed scientist and inventor Leo Fitz at a trade conference in New York City, she thinks she’s found the man of her dreams. A whirlwind romance and elopement ensues, but once she settles into her new home with Fitz in London, she realizes that not everything is as it appears. It seems that no one—not even Fitz—has let go of the memory of his beautiful, popular first wife, who died tragically in an accident just one year prior. As Jemma sinks deeper into a web of doubt and criticism, she begins to question her place in Fitz’s life—and the secrets he’s keeping from her. An AU of the classic novel Rebecca.

Excerpt from Chapter 19:

The next morning, Fitz and Jemma showed up outside the Met well ahead of their nine o’clock appointment time. There they met with Fitz’s solicitor, a quiet, taciturn man named Enoch Coltrane. Radcliffe arrived a few minutes later; introductions were made, handshakes were exchanged, and then they all turned to go inside.

Jemma tried her best not to show her nerves. All Fitz was doing was giving a statement. He wasn’t being formally questioned and he wasn’t going to be taken away from her in handcuffs. That was the plan, at least—but Radcliffe was the wild card who had the potential to upset everything. The information he claimed to have on Ophelia was making her burn with curiosity. What could he possibly know, and why had he stayed quiet for so long? The fact that it was an unknown quantity was what had her so worried. There was no way of telling whether or not what he had to say would help Fitz or harm him. All they had was his word.

But Fitz trusted Radcliffe, so Jemma supposed she had no choice but to put her faith in him as well.

Read the rest on AO3!

#Fitzsimmons #Leo Fitz #Jemma Simmons #fstag #aosficnet2 #Agents of SHIELD #eclecticfic #it's the penultimate chapter!#happy Wednesday!

12 notes · View notes

guardianofjunmyeon · 5 years ago

Text

Finding Atlantis (part 5)

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description: 20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But fewer men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean, the key to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold should they find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself. Thus, the hunt began.

A/N: Here we are with an update a week later! :3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

You both watch as Chanyeol runs off to collect the new additions to your crew. You furrow your brows. “You’re willing to just leave your ship and your men?” you ask.

He shrugs and starts walking in the direction of the dock. “It’s not my ship. I stole it and scouted a couple of men to help me man it. Jongin, Chanyeol, and Sehun are the only men I really consider my crew.”

“Oh,” you say quietly.

“They don't really need me, the other men. They can have the ship; they were bound to mutiny any day now. I wasn’t paying them shit,” he laughs loudly. You look at him a bit sadly and then conceal it.

What’s a captain without his ship?

In that case, you suppose you don’t have any reason not to take them on as your own. You grab him by the arm to stop him. “Alright, well let’s shake on it. On our temporary ally ship.” You jut out your hand and he takes it in his without hesitation. A solid handshake is all it takes to put the past aside.

“Let’s get this sea bitch home!” He chirps. You give him a tired look and he shrugs it off unapologetically. “What?”

You can see your ship clearly as you near the dock, and a happiness that you haven’t felt in weeks blossoms in your chest. You missed her. You missed her a fucking lot.

“Byun Baekhyun and the Storm Chaser at the same port yet again. I wouldn’t believe myself if I didn’t see it with my own eyes.” You stop in your tracks as a group of three men walk up blocking your path. The man on the left is short and stocky. His skin looks like poorly cared for leather and a tattoo of a water dragon stretches up his neck and covers half of his face. The man in the center, the man who spoke, has a beard so long and unkempt that you can image a family of lice living there unperturbed for generations. The last man is the tallest of the three, extremely skinny, with a creepy smile gleaming with fake gold teeth.

You clench your fists. You just can’t catch a break being around Baekhyun can you? “You must be its captain, going around and stealing other ships to keep your identity a secret, huh? You must think you’re hot shit, you one-eyed fuck,” the obvious leader of the group says, beard lice landlord.

Baekhyun gasps dramatically and places one hand over his heart and the other over his eye patch, “Hurtful.”

You want to drive your sword through the man’s stomach for assuming Baekhyun, of all people, captain of your beloved ship.

It’s been months since you’ve gotten a chance to really use a sword, and with the way things are shaping, it looks like your drought may soon be over. The men train their eyes solely on Baekhyun, and you want to laugh at the fact that they’re completely overlooking the actual Captain in lieu of having a pissing contest with Baekhyun.

Men make you sick.

You’d rather die than let Baekhyun take these kills and your title from you.

The leader takes a step forward and you reach for your blade. Baekhyun side-steps you and blocks you from their vision. Your cheeks flame in anger. “Hey now guys. Come on, why don’t we all just relax and go our separate ways? I need to get back to my ship. As you can see I’ve got company.” He jerks his thumb in your direction and you grumble low in your throat.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” you murmur murderously to Baekhyun’s back.

“Screw you and your whore Byun. There’s quite the reward for you, dead or alive. And another even larger one for that ship there’s captain.” Baekhyun’s mouth turns down in a frown while yours turns up in satisfaction. You’re worth more than he is? A win for you. “We could kill two birds with one gun,” the man continues. His fingers twitch towards the weapon at his side.

Looks like a fight, you think happily. You grab Baekhyun’s shirt to pull him back so that you don’t have to worry about killing him in the crosshairs. Then again, maybe you should slice your way through him first.

He takes a step backwards to your side. “Slap me,” he whispers. You look at him incredulously. “Slap me and follow my lead,” he says a bit louder.

Whatever.

You strike him with all the strength in your body. You aren’t sure why you needed to smack him but you aren’t going to turn down an invitation. The “Ow!” that falls loudly from his lips is genuinely angry. You almost think that the two of you are just going to fight to the death right here to save the idiots -trying to stop you from getting to your ship- the trouble. The sting in your hand feels, so, so good.

He cradles his cheek and his eye flashes angrily before he masks it. “Baby, what’s wrong now?”

You physically recoil in disgust. Baby?

His eye flickers to the side where the men are standing, seemingly amused by what Baekhyun is trying to paint as a couple’s spat. Oh. Realization hits and you jump into your role as the angry lover.

Honestly, you don’t have to try that hard.

“Baby? Don’t fucking call me baby. Why’s it that every time I find myself with you, someone is trying to kill us? Huh? I’m sick and tired of being dragged into your bullshit,” you exclaim. He scoffs, genuinely, or part of the role, you can’t tell. You poke him hard in his chest. “Don’t you think that I want to go out on a walk or go out to eat without…without,” you glance around and spot a woman pushing her child in a stroller. You take in a breath and place you hand over your abdomen. “Without fearing for me and my baby’s life?”

He blinks rapidly. “Baby?” You can hear equal parts repulsion and amusement in the tone of his voice.

“Yes, baby. I didn’t want to tell you like this, but of course this is how you ended up finding out. I’m fucking sick of this Baekhyun!”

“There’s no way that baby is mine. I’ve always used protection.” You raise your eyebrows in amazement. Now that was a flat out lie. His lip twitches upwards.

“Are you calling me a whore?” you hiss.

He holds out his hands in defense. “I’m just saying in your profession I’m sure that you have to entertain lots of men and-” You pull out your sword and point it at his chest.

“The women who sleep with people for money work hard for what they’ve earned, and should be respected for their profession.”

“Don’t act too rash…” he takes a step back and raises his eyebrow minutely. You hope that is some kind of signal, because you don’t know how much longer you can go around acting before you actually drive your sword through his shoulder. “Think of the-” he unsheathes his own sword “Baby!” and hits yours away.

Your arm veers to the right from the impact. Purely from the surprise of it all, you swing your sword back at Baekhyun by instinct. He manages to block the hit. He swings back and nearly nicks your arm; luckily you manage to shift enough for it to swipe at nothing but air. He’s getting too fucking close for this to be part of the act.

You aim for his knee and he jumps back just barely avoiding your attack. “Now!” he shouts to you. It takes you a full second to remember that you aren’t actually supposed to be fighting Baekhyun, but the men still watching you both, fully distracted. You turn your blade on the man closest to you, the man with golden teeth, and swing it across his face. He screams and drops to his knees while Baekhyun drives his sword through the stomach of the shorter man with the tattoo on his face. You quickly slide your blade through the neck of the man on the ground in front of you and turn to find Baekhyun trying to fight off the larger leader of the group.

You run passed the henchmen you each put down, dropping the larger sword you grabbed off Junmyeon to the ground. You snatch the shorter knife on lice beard’s hip while he’s distracted and jump on his back, pulling his head to the side and slicing his throat open with ease. He collapses backwards and you let yourself fall to the ground first and roll far enough way so his dead body won’t crush you.

Your chest rises and falls with adrenaline and you wipe the blood on the blade off onto the thigh of your pants. Baekhyun’s hand lands on your shoulder, “Nice-” your knife drives through his side. “FUCK- why’dyou-shit!” You turn to see him holding both his hands over the shallow gash in his side. You throw the bloodied knife to the ground and stand up, still breathing heavily.

“Sorry,” you say flatly. “Heat of the moment…baby.”

“Oh fuck you,” he spits.

“Come on.” You grab his right arm and throw it over your shoulder. You guide him over to your discarded sword and he hisses with each movement. You let him lean on you as you guide him back, limping, to your ship.

“You did that on purpose,” he accuses. You bite your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “You’re smiling about it? I fucking knew it. You’re a fucking liar, what happened to the truce?”

“It’s not that deep a cut. You aren’t going to die from it. We’ll get you stitched up; stop whining.”

Despite your words, he whines all the way onto your ship. Yixing looks at you with raised eyebrows and you shake your head. “Don’t ask right now. Make sure everyone is aboard and let’s put some distance between us and land.”

Yixing smirks and goes off to get the ship in motion. You decide to attend to the crybaby leaning against you yourself. The infirmary isn’t far from the forecastle, where most of the living quarters are. You stumble into the room and let him go so that he can sit down while you search for the supplies needed to fix him up.

He moans pitifully and you shush him. “Shut up, you aren’t that hurt.”

“You aren’t the one who got stabbed.”

“I stabbed you with a purpose. It stings worse than it actually is.” Supplies collected, you kneel down at his side and lift up his shirt. “Hold it up,” you command. He grumbles but follows your instruction. You wipe away the blood surrounding the cut and work on disinfecting the actual wound. Just as you’d said, it’s not large. About as thick as your pinky and as long as your thumb.

He hisses for a long time as you wordlessly clean the wound. When he flinches so hard that he almost kicks the needle from your hand, you sigh and look up at him.

“Hold still,” you admonish.

You return your focus back on stitching the wound so that it will close on its own. It’s not a pretty job, but it will keep. You feel just the smallest twinge of guilt for slicing open his side during your truce, but it fades quickly at the many memories of the times he’s stabbed or shot you.

Truce be damned for a second. He had this coming. You sit up on your knees as you wrap a dressing around his waist to cover the fresh stitches. As a way to silently apologize for going back on your truce, you treat him with gentle fingers and careful touches. You secure the dressing and sit back on your heels satisfied. You exhale softly and feel strangely proud of your work. You feel a small smile etching itself on your lips before you look up and catch Baekhyun looking down at you. His expression unreadable.

Your smile slides off. He lets his shirt drop down to cover the bandages, stark white against his tanned skin, and you feel a bit uncomfortable with the seriousness in his gaze.

“When you’re ready you can come out and we’ll have a meeting with all of the crew.” He nods and then avoids your eyes. You frown and leave the room a bit aggravated with his behavior. What the fuck is his problem?

Jongin comes up to you as soon as you’re out of the infirmary. “Is he okay? What happened?” He sounds as distressed as he looks.

“He’s fine. It’s a little cut. Nothing he hasn’t dealt with before.” You try to smile reassuringly but it comes out as a grimace at best. Jongin’s eyes widen when he looks behind you and he jogs off with a worried, “Baekhyun!”

Yixing leans against the newly repaired mainmast with knowing eyes. He gives you a thumbs up, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Attention everyone!” you call. A circle begins to form around you. You take note of faces, those you know well, those you know are new, and the ones you know are missing. You feel sadness deep in your heart.

But the ship must go on.

“Everyone, we have added a few new members to our crew as we head off on our new mission. I know that our original plans were to go on that bounty hunt, but circumstances…changed.” You glance towards Baekhyun and his men all standing together. “I know that we have lost a few men in the last weeks, and we will be sending them off in the way that we know how later on tonight.” You watch faces fall across your crew.

“For now, I want to inform you all of our next course of action. I previously discussed this with Junmyeon and Yeri, and they have decided to join me in asking for your support.” You look over and see Yeri nodding her head. Junmyeon looks on tiredly. “We are going after Atlantis…again.” You expect the disgruntled murmurs and hushed whispers among your men. You continue on, “I know that I said we were done trying to find it, but we’ve recently come across some new information.” You motion to Baekhyun. He waves happily to your crew.

You shake your head in annoyance. “If you have any disagreements with our plan, feel free to come talk to me or Junmyeon personally.” No one speaks up so you push on. “Junmyeon, you still have the compass and map I gave you right?” He nods. “I need you and Yeri to make sense of the map as best you can; I’ll be there to explain some things in a minute.”

“Are we not locking Byun up?” Minseok asks.

You sigh. “No, he’ll just pick his way out like a little roach. They'll be sleeping in the crew living quarters. They’re a part of this crew during the duration of this mission; treat them accordingly,” you tell your crew. “As for you all, the rules on this ship are simple. You do your job, you respect everyone on this ship as you would yourself, and you don’t lay a hand on anyone in any way deemed inappropriate. Break these rules and I will personally slice your penis off your body and force you to watch as it’s dropped into the sea,” you tell Baekhyun’s additions to the vessel.

“A-Ay,” Chanyeol stammers.

“That’s ‘Ay Captain’,” you correct.

“Ay, Captain!” all but one repeats. Baekhyun clenches his jaw, refuses to give in. You wait with both hands settled on your hips. Your crewmen look on in a mix of amusement and apprehension at the rising tension.

“I don’t think I heard you Byun.”

He laughs in incredulity. Arms cross over his chest. “Ay, Captain,” he acquiesces. You tilt your head proud of his compliance.

“Alright everyone, let’s get moving!” You crew disperses and you follow Junmyeon with your eyes as he heads into your quarters chatting animatedly with Yeri at his side.

You feel Baekhyun’s presence before you hear him. “It’s him isn’t it? Suho. Junmyeon.”

You nod slowly, staring at the door where your first mate has gone. “Yeah,” you murmur. You know that Baekhyun is still missing a lot of essential information about Junmyeon, about Suho, about his life and how he ended up here practically co-captain of your ship.

You’ll fill him in at some point.

All in due time.

You don’t want to think about all of this quite yet, not with him, so you deflect the conversation. “What can your men do, where can I put them?” You scan the four men standing a bit shyly behind their former captain.

“Jongin was in charge of medical. He’s good with medicine and rigging. Chanyeol was our best man in the artillery and also worked the kitchen with Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo was our head cook, but is also well-trained with artillery and general sailing strategies. Sehun has good direction and ability to decipher maps,” Baekhyun rattles off.

That’s good. You needed these skills. From what you could tell, you lost your cook and doctor, Kun, two gunners, Jaehyun and Amber, and… Taemin. Each loss hurts a bit more when you think too long about their absence. You try your hardest not to let it show on your face. It feels sick to replace them with people that are responsible for their deaths.

“Kyungsoo, you can head to the kitchen. It’s under your control, we lost our cook when-” you suck in a breath to stop yourself. Chanyeol and Jongin wince. “The kitchen is all yours.” You finish lamely. “Jongin you’re in charge of our infirmary. Our cook was also our head doctor,” you say bitterly. He avoids your eyes and draws into himself. “I’ll tell Minseok to get Chanyeol and Kyungsoo acquainted with our artillery. You and Sehun meet me in my quarters in 10 minutes. We need to figure out our heading.” You turn on them before any questions can be asked and walk a bit dizzily to the forecastle and very front of your ship for a second to yourself.

You hadn’t gotten a chance to mourn the men you lost, and being hit so suddenly with their absence as you quickly filled positions they each held for years is painful enough to force tears from your eyes. You try not to cry in front of your crew for the sake of morale, but it’s tough to skip over the mourning process in order to get back to work. Everyone else at least had a month to properly mourn.

You get a few hours at most.

You wipe away the tears and try to gather your breathing before you have to face everyone in your quarters. You don’t want it to be too obvious that you were crying.

“Hey…” you sniff and rub at your face with the palms of your hands harshly. Yixing walks to your side and leans against the railing with you. He looks out at the expanse of water and gives you a few seconds of grateful silence before he speaks again. “You don't have to hide your crying like this. We all really miss them, you don’t have to pretend that you aren’t hurt.” He pauses. “You could at least choose a better location, you’re completely visible up here,” he jokes. You laugh a bit.

The wind blows and the ship’s sails flap.

“I’m just…it feels wrong to fill their spots like this. It was Baekhyun and his crew’s fault that they died. It’s his fault and now they’re just taking up their space as if nothing is wrong,” you wipe away another stray tear angrily. You understand that taking them on was the smartest decision given the circumstances, but it doesn’t lessen the feeling of betrayal.

Yixing hums. “You know…I don’t want you to think that I’m taking their side because I’m not. But…I don’t think they meant to kill any of our men in the attack.” You look at him in horror. How could he defend them when you all lost men because of them? He sets his lips in a line. “Their cannons were aimed at the mainmast to keep us immobile, and that’s where they hit. When it fell, it nearly hit Junmyeon but Taemin pushed him out of the way and it crushed his legs instead. He held on for a bit, but got sick on top of his injuries as we headed to Arae. He died in the infirmary. Kun got sick while he was trying to take care of Taemin. Pneumonia. We had to quarantine them both for days before they passed away. One of our cannons backfired when we tried to attack Baekhyun’s ship in return, and it took out Amber and Jaehyun. You and I both know how often that can happen in the artillery,” he explains.

You process his words and you know that, logically, all of these things were accidents, a series of unfortunate events and not malicious attempts at murder, but the irrational side of you wants to blame someone. To blame Baekhyun.

“I’m not telling you not to be angry, or upset,” Yixing continues. “I just want you to look at this objectively and realize that it isn’t completely their faults that we lost our men. Fate just…wasn’t on our sides.” He gazes at you with soft eyes. You can feel angry tears welling up again. He pats your shoulder. “Take a while to cool down, to mourn. I’ll tell Junmyeon that you’ll be a minute.”

Yixing leaves with a squeeze of your shoulder and you let yourself breakdown. The tears fall heavily and your chest tightens so much that it physically hurts to breathe. You could curse the sky, the moon, the ocean, but at the end of the day, it was just their time to go.

If Yixing truly believes that it wasn’t blatant murder then you have to take a second to separate your mind from your emotions as well. You can’t storm off and make their lives hell; you told your crewmen that these new additions are a part of your crew. You all have to respect that for the time being.

You could ask anyone on your crew and you’re sure that they would tell you the same things. How they died, the circumstances. They’re truthful people. They wouldn’t recount it blinded by rage and hatred.

They will all tell you what they saw, just as they saw it.

They would say that it was all just bad timing.

Maybe that’s what upsets you most.

You take a few more minutes to wipe your face and gather your composure before you walk into the Captain’s Quarters where Yeri and Junmyeon are crouched over the map and compass speaking in hushed tones. You can see the confusion in Junmyeon’s furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips.

“Does anything look familiar?” You ask smoothly.

“Vaguely,” Junmyeon says before he looks up from the table. He quickly takes in your appearance, and opens his mouth to comment, confusion on his face switching to concern when the door opens and Baekhyun walks in with Sehun on his tail.

Yeri opens and closes the compass. “Your compass is broken,” she says.

“It’s not broken,” Baekhyun corrects. “It supposedly points to the thing you want most in the world.”

“No kidding,” Yeri exclaims in amazement.

You avoid Junmyeon’s eyes as you project composure to the rest of the people in the room. He knows you well enough to know when something is wrong, but that doesn’t mean that everyone else does. “Yeah, that’s what Baekhyun and I were told when it was given to us. Is your home the place you want most in the world?” You ask Junmyeon.

There is a deep sadness in his eyes that only slightly covers up his concern. “I don’t know,” he admits.

“Well we’re kind of fucked if you don’t want to go back,” Baekhyun observes bluntly. Sehun elbows him in the arm to shut him up.

“I know…it’s been a very long time since you’ve been home, and I know there were reasons that you left. But I need you to look deep within yourself and tell me that you don’t still ache to return.” His gaze wavers under yours; he breaks eye contact first. “It’s okay,” you assure him, walking over to rub his back as he tries not to show the battle he’s been waging with himself for years.

He tries to hide it.

You know him well enough to be able to see it anyway.

“This was always the end goal, right? You never have to feel bad for wanting to go home.” You try to smile. Yeri whimpers and throws her arms around him in a hug. Baekhyun and Sehun stand awkwardly to side while you all try to contain your emotions. This isn’t goodbye.

“Maybe you’d be able to come and visit again,” Sehun offers softly.

“Yeah, you guys are acting like he’s going to die if he goes back. People leave Atlantis all the time,” Baekhyun adds.

You grab the closed compass from the table and place it in your first mate’s palm. “Just think of home,” you comment softly.

He takes in a large breath and closes his eyes. You open the compass in his hand and watch it spin wildly from side to side before finally settling. Baekhyun peaks over your shoulder.

“Huh,” he remarks in amazement.

Junmyeon opens his eyes and looks down.

“Southeast,” you say in unison. Yeri motions Sehun to her side. They begin using the heading with the map you were given to chart.

“We’re going to finish this. I promise,” you tell the man at your side.

Baekhyun pushes between you both to grab the compass from Junmyeon’s hand. “Irene said that the sea wants you and that you should listen to her song to lead you home.” He plays with the device with deft fingers.

Junmyeon tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. “Song? I mean…sometimes I hear noises. Something like a melody. It happens randomly, at different times of the day and sometimes not for months at a time. It’s the same tune every time.” He laughs embarrassed. “I just thought it was sea madness or something.”

“We need you to figure out where it wants you to go. You’re the only one who can hear it and follow it. The song and a rhyme, they're the main things you need to get home,” you tell him. “I don’t remember what the rhyme was…fuck I should have written it down-”

“Follow the sound of your soul, she’ll call out to you to bring you back to your shoal. She’ll fight you to prove that your heart is true, to crush you and build you back stronger in her darkest shade of blue. Beautiful songs will call out to confuse the path, to distract you, but remembering your heart will get you through. She’ll finally take you in her arms again, cradled and safe where all life began,” Baekhyun repeats the rhyme with ease. You look at him amazed.

Junmyeon murmurs the rhyme under his breath. “I-I think that I’ve heard that rhyme before…when I was younger. I’d forgotten all about it,” he says in shock. He falls into the chair closest to him heavily and begins to repeat it over and over to himself softly.

“Southeast,” you murmur to yourself. Junmyeon is the only one who can piece together the missing parts of his memory. The longer he’s away, the less he’s able to recall about his relationship with the ocean. Little pieces of memory, little parts of himself, all lost with time. “Yeri, can you work with Sehun and Baekhyun to figure out what we should expect to encounter?” She nods determined. Sehun gives you a decided look and you know that they will work hard together to piece together whatever they can with what little information you all have.

You and Baekhyun share a look. An understanding finally settling between you after all that’s happened, after all that’s been revealed. He nods. You offer a small smile in return.

#exo #exo stories #exo fanfics #exo fanfiction #exo imagines #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun stories #baekhyun story #baekhyun pirate au #exo pirate au

59 notes · View notes

shafiron-the-squirrel · 4 years ago

Text

Broken Embrace - Short Story

He was out of breath, but still ran, falling every now and then. He ran like never before. His clothes were covered with mud, but the man did not care. His ankle throbbed, and his elbow had turned a bit red - but this did not stop him. The world turned into a blurred mess, as time did not matter anymore. He ignored the pain in his ankle, and kept going.

He stopped, gasping for life. He steadied his breathing, and turned back to look up at the shop behind him. An old board (the colours were faded), on which were the words - 'Sharma's Gift Shop' loomed right in front of him. The man walked in through the glass doors, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He walked in, and a wave of mixed scents washed over him. He glanced over at the shelves and went over to them, his eyes finally resting on a glass orb, in which a pine cone tree stood, embedded in fake snow (it looked more like salt crystals to him). He picked it up, and got lost in his thoughts, when a man's familiar voice startled him. The man was in his late sixties, his hair a mixture of black, grey and white. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear. What did you say?" "I asked you, what you were doing looking at that orb for such a long time. If you want it, then come and pay for it, Satyaki."

Satyaki made direct eye contact with the man. His gaze was stern, yet kind, as if he was examining a student who had done bad on his viva but was thinking whether he should break the news to the child or not. He had lines around his eyes, and his spectacles were precisely placed between his head and his ears. "Uncle! Even after so many years, you did not forget me - tell me you're never going to change, will you?" He broke into a huge grin, and pulled the old man into an embrace. "How could I ever forget you, you dolt! You still have to pay hundred rupees more!". The old man tried to look angry, but seeing Satyaki terrified made him burst in laughter. Satyaki joined in. When they finally stopped, their stomachs aching from laughter, Satyaki voiced a concern lingering at the back of his mind. "Uncle, remember you used to have those 'special' thirty rupee pens? Do you still have them?". Sharma (the old man) looked with disbelief at Satyaki, and then exclaimed, "Of course I do! Those pens made almost a quarter of my profit, and the value of these pens has not changed much over the years." He strolled to the counter, and got a pen that had a white cap and blue body. Satyaki took it, turning it around in his hands.

•°•°• There was an assignment going on. Satyaki's pen flew across the paper ; he had prepared well for the test. On his right sat a new boy, who had come that month. He had written a few answers, but had paused for thought. Satyaki finished his test and handed over his paper. Others started handing in theirs' too - but the boy next to him made no effort to do so. He looked blankly at the paper, until Satyaki asked him, "Well, are you going to write down that answer or not?". His voice ringing with concern.

The boy looked over and replied, "Actually, I did not prepare for this test. I repeatedly asked the classmates, but they all said that there was no test and then smirked. So, I don't know these answers, and am stuck on this question."Satyaki's eyes filled with pity (no, he was not crying), and then anger as he glanced at his classmates. All merrily laughing, talking, joking - while this boy sat, not even trying to cheat even though it was impossible that he would be caught. "I'll help you," decided Satyaki. "What? No - "I am going to hell you no matter what. You need help, you deserve it. The answer is defraction." The boy's eyes widened in shock, and then he wrote down the answer, and quickly handed in the paper as the teacher was leaving. The boy returned to his seat, and said, "Thanks!" He grinned, obviously pleased with this unexpected act of kindness. "No problem. By the way, do you want to eat your lunch with me?" "Oh! Sure." From that day onwards, Satyaki and Parijat (Satyaki later found out his name) became the best of friends. Glorious days were spent, and the two became inseparable.

Satyaki blinked back tears as he felt the 'crispy' notes in his hands. He stood up from his bed, and strolled to a desk. There was a lamp, and near it was a photo frame. Satyaki took hold of the frame, and then quickly put it back, for his hands were shaking. The photo (inserted in the frame) showed him with another boy, a bit taller than him, his black hair neatly swept off to one side. His black eyes looked as wise as his smile. He seemed satisfied with the world, as if he had everything that he could ask for. Satyaki ran out of his room.

He did not care anymore; he had mud streaks 'adorning' his shoes and pants as he hardly clutched the notes. He ran into a shop, gasping. He snatched a glass orb from the shelf, and ran to the counter. Sharma was sitting there as usual, his black hair neatly oiled. "How much?" Satyaki asked. "What - oh never mind. 20 rupees."Sharma decided, wisely, not to ask anymore, as he saw the kid red - eyed, and he looked as if he would break down any moment. Satyaki's face fell, and Sharma wondered whether he had done something wrong to make him sad. "I won't be able to buy that pen - his favourite pen," he sobbed. But before Sharma could say anything to console him, he put the cash on the counter and ran away. He ran with his gift, his hands occasionally going to his face to wipe off tears. He stopped in front of a black SUV, where a boy was checking the luggage packed in the back of the car.

"Parijat," was the only word managed by Satyaki in that state. Parijat looked up, saw his friend and hugged him tightly. He smiled lightly, and said - " It's okay, Satyaki. You've been the best friend that I could have ever wished for. I promise - that I will come back here,". "Don't forget me," Satyaki whispered as he handed the glass orb. "And sorry, I could not get your favourite pen." Parijat put his hands on Satyaki's shoulders and said, "You did not have to. More than the pen, you are precious to me,".Satyaki smirked, and replied, "Bet you wouldn't have said that had I not brought you this orb," "Shut up. And stay in touch," Parijat elbowed Satyaki in the ribs and quickly turned. "Bye. Will meet again – promise." Satyaki took his friend's hand and did their secret handshake, as Parijat turned back for one last time. He sat in the car, smiled a bit and then his his face. As the car drove off, leaving Satyaki behind, he could not shake the feeling off that his friend felt as broken as him. As Parijat sat in the car travelling to his new home, faraway, his face hidden by his hands, he could not help thinking that about how he had perhaps lost a friend whom he would never find again.

•°•°•

"Satyaki? Satyaki! Are you all right? And do you want the pen or not?" Sharma screamed into his ear, and he jumped from fear. "Yes, yes. I do. Do you have change?". As Satyaki waited for Sharma to find change, he listened to him muttering "silly boy", and "had gone out for a few minutes, this boy was still standing looking at the pen as if it could make him a millionaire".

“Thanks," he smiled, hearing his appraisal. "Hey listen - You have not and will not change as well, ever." "Ha ha uncle. Nice meeting you." He stepped out of the shop, and started like he was, earlier. He stopped in front of a black SUV. A man wearing shades leaned against his car as he waited for someone eagerly. Satyaki rushed over and handed the orb and pen to the guy. The man swiftly pulled off his shades, and his eyes widened in shock - but he quickly recovered and pulled Satyaki into a tight embrace. They broke apart, and he exclaimed, "Your hair is still messy as ever, Sattu." " And your hair is still as neatly combed as ever, Pari." They both smiled, then grinned widely.

"You promised - and you came," said Satyaki. "I came here only because you had intended that you will give me the pen," Parijat replied. "Come, let's chat." The two men walked together, hand in hand, in the afternoon sunshine – never to be separated again.

#short story #bromance #nostalgia #school friends #best friend #random #glass orb #special pens #pen #loyalty #friendship #friendshipgoals #happy ending

5 notes · View notes

mahalkitajohnnysuh · 4 years ago

Text

MK (Part I)

As promised, here’s another Mark post to make up for that brief birthday piece that didn’t get to highlight him that much.

I’ll try my best to post a lot of Mark content since it’s his birthday month, so stay tuned.

Let the GIF below remind you of that. By the way, this is one of my favorite looks on him! Don’t you all agree?

Mahal ko kayong lahat! :)

–––

Summary: This piece was inspired by one of the prompts in @neoculturedrabbles list:

Prompt #20: “What did you do this time?��

POV: 2nd person since I wrote this late last year.

Word count: 749 words

–––

“Essie noonaaaaa!” It was the first thing you heard from Mark when he called you up late in the afternoon.

You just woke up from your nap and was about to start a relaxing day doing nothing, but the younger guy had to call you after drinking a glass of lukewarm lemon water.

“Yes, Mark? What can I do for you?” Your voice sounded hoarse, and you cleared your throat, so you sound better.

“I need your help, like, right now. Please. I really need you.” You sensed the fear in his voice, and you held onto your comforter tighter.

“What did you do this time?” Your voice could not hide the exasperation you felt at his call.

You should know by now that when he calls you with a whiny voice, he is up to no good.

“I forgot my wallet at home. I’m with Haechan, and you know how he is, he doesn’t bring a wallet when he’s with his hyungs,” you heard a sharp objection from his dongsaeng, “so can you please bring it here? You know how it looks like, right?”

You sighed, remembering his beat-up leather wallet that could’ve belonged to your uncle. “Yes, Mark. I know what your wallet looks like. Because I’m delivering it to wherever you and Donghyuck are eating, you have to treat me.”

It was his turn to sigh now but in defeat. “Okay, Essie noona. I got you. I’m really sorry I had to disturb you…”

“It’s fine, Mark. As long as you treat me to my fave cake and coffee, we’re good.”

The next thing you heard was Haechan laughing diabolically in the background before you hung up.

///

An hour after he called, you were on your way to the restaurant with his wallet. It felt heavy, and you wondered what it contained.

As you opened the door to the restaurant, you saw Haechan waving at you excitedly. You returned his wave in the same manner, making Mark sink deeper into his seat.

“Here you go, Mark Lee,” you said, handing his wallet before sitting down beside him. “Please don’t forget this every time you step out of the house, okay?”

He bowed in apology after getting the wallet, his face almost hitting the floor. “I’m really sorry, Essie noona,” he then looked at the guy across him, “but this one’s nagging me to hurry up a while ago, and I forgot to bring this in return!”

Haechan looked away, whistling a particular tune. You laughed at their interaction before you patted Mark on his shoulder.

“You should already expect that when you’re with him, okay?” You glanced at the blond boy, who gave you his trademark wink-and-hand-check pose.

Mark could only grumble in response, carefully fishing out bills out of his wallet.

///

After he paid for the meal he and Haechan ate, it was your turn to be treated.

You walked alongside the hyperactive boy, who you did a secret handshake with when he stood up from his seat. It took a minute and a lot of hype sounds (e.g., a lot of ‘hey’s’ and ‘get it’), making Mark embarrassed and amused at your thing.

“Hey, how come I don’t have like that with any of you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at both of you.

“’Cause you’re not cool enough?” Haechan replied in his usual sassy way, eliciting giggles out of you. “And you’re always out, dude. How can we have a special handshake when you’re not here?” You added, planting your hands on your hips.

Your housemate pouted, defeated again with your ‘teamwork.’ “Haechan and I have become close over the past few months too,” you said softly, glancing at the guy beside you who responded with a bashful smile.

“I’m sorry that I’m always out, you know I don’t have much control with my schedule,” Mark mumbled, digging his hands deeper into his pockets. “But anyway, let’s have cake and coffee. My treat.”

You and Haechan exchanged your special high fives and screeched in delight. “Oh yeah! Mark’s treating us!”

“Guys, please. Stop doing that. It’s embarrassing,” your housemate whispered as he walked faster and farther from you.

Haechan, who was taller than you, hooked an arm around your shoulder and walked animatedly beside you. His energy was infectious, and you followed suit, later on singing a Queen song as you trailed the person who was going to treat you to dessert.

–––

FIN

17 notes · View notes

exxar1 · 4 years ago

Text

Episode 11: New Believer, New Faith, and a New Vow

2/7/2021

- 1 -

Good morning! It’s a beautiful Sunday here in Las Vegas. I have much to talk about so I’m just going to get right into it.

It’s hard to believe we’re already a full month into the new year. This year for me has been very rewarding thus far. For starters, I have had no trouble keeping up with resolutions 1 and 4. (For a refresher, you can scroll back through my previous posts to the one from New Year’s Eve.) I have found time each day to read my Bible and pray, and I have had little difficulty in maintaining a pleasant attitude and a smile in my daily encounters with my co-workers and customers. As expected, though, that latter one has been tested a few times by the occasional sour apples that woke up on the wrong side of the bed. But I’ve surprised myself every time by my patience and my ability to keep a calm and pleasant demeanor. (Those of you who have known me for a long time will understand how truly remarkable that is for me.) It’s simply another testament to the power of God to change our basic attitudes when we are willing to let Him.

I’ve also made great strides in resolution #3, and that’s where I’m going to spend the bulk of my time on this post.

Have you ever sought something – therapy, a particular medication, advice from a friend or colleague – thinking that it might help with one problem, only to be pleasantly surprised that one, the result helped in many other ways you hadn’t anticipated; and two, that the change/outcome/counseling exceeded your initial expectations by such a great magnitude that you couldn’t believe you hadn’t sought this help long ago? That feeling has been with me for over three weeks now, and it’s only getting better with each session.

One of my first tasks in tackling resolution #3 was to consult a pastor on this issue of homosexuality and the Bible. I needed to know what God really said in His Word on this controversial topic, and since I have yet to find a home church here in Las Vegas the only pastor that I am casually acquainted with is Mark Sjostrom of the church in which I was born and raised back in Twin Falls, Idaho.

For those of you unfamiliar with Twin Falls or this particular church, allow me to forge a brief rabbit trail here to give you a short history. Grace Baptist Church was founded in 1975, and, back then, it was just a one-story, oblong, red-bricked building, its main auditorium forming a bubble at one end, at the intersection of Eastland Drive and Falls Avenue on the eastern edge of town. It’s still that same building today, only now there’s a massive, two-story gymnasium/classroom on the other side of the back parking lot, and a third, smaller, two-room annex that sits behind the gym. The first of those latter two structures was needed in the early eighties when the church launched its own private school, Twin Falls Christian Academy. I was in kindergarten when the gymnasium was under construction. I have many memories of watching my dad and some of the other men in church up on the scaffolds, putting together the walls, while I waited for my mom to pick me up after school, which was held in the various Sunday school rooms in the church. A few years later, I would be attending high school in the classrooms above that gym.

In the years since I have grown and left Twin Falls, I have come back to that church on the occasional Sunday morning worship service when I’m home for a vacation visit. I’ve always had mixed feelings every time I set foot beyond the threshold of its main doors (see my previous posts about my struggles during my teen years.) It’s the same feeling you get when you come back to something that is at once familiar and strangely comforting, but also brings with it unpleasant memories and the pain of old wounds that have never quite healed.

Grace’s pastor since 2005 has been Mark Sjostrom (pronounced ‘shos-trum’), and I didn’t know him that well when I decided to consult him on this issue. Our only interaction thus far had been a brief handshake and a greeting after those sporadic Sunday morning worship services, and I wasn’t sure he would even remember me when I nervously texted him a brief ‘Hello’ a month ago. He responded within a few minutes, and I re-introduced myself and then gave a short explanation of what I needed. We agreed on a time and date for a phone call, and I emailed him the next day with a longer explanation of what I needed to talk about with him.

That letter was a somewhat detailed account of what most of you are already familiar with: my struggle in high school with keeping my secret of being gay while trying to fit in socially and eventually declaring myself an Atheist after being expelled from school my senior year a month before graduation. It was probably about 2 pages, and I was now very nervous after clicking the ‘Send’ button. I suppose now is a good time to tell you something else about me.

I have been one of ‘those people’ for all of my adult life. You know who I’m talking about: the people who silently judge the other customers in the book store who pause to browse the Self Help section; or the people who quietly scoff when anyone talks about their latest therapy session with their friends or coworkers at lunch in the break room. I’m glad I don’t need self-help or therapy, I’ve always thought. But, then again, good for them, I guess. I’m glad I have all my issues worked out, and I’m a stable, normal adult. I’ve never had any issues that were so bad I needed to get help from an armchair counselor’s latest best seller or a psychiatrist’s couch.

Hhmmm. My life, lately, has been chock full of irony.

When the time came to dial Pastor Sjostrom’s number my level of nervousness was up to a ten out of ten on the anxiety scale. I hadn’t felt like this since high school when it was opening night of our Agatha Christie play, and I was one of the main cast. I had prepared a detailed outline of what I wanted to discuss, and, after a few initial pleasantries, Mark quickly put me at ease. I was pleasantly caught off guard by his relaxed, casual personality. I found immediately that he was very easy to talk to, and my anxiety level dropped to a ‘three’ in the first five minutes. Pastor Sjostrom is definitely one of those people who has found the right calling. His warm, personable demeanor made me feel like I was talking to an old friend over coffee at Starbucks, and after about ten minutes of getting to know one another, he brought the conversation back around to my letter.

Here’s where my second surprise occurred. Mark was bluntly honest. I had told him that I believed I was saved in 1985, when I was seven, after the evening service of one of our church’s mid-summer week long revival meetings. “Neal,” Mark said rather pointedly, “after reading your description of your life after high school, I gotta say that it doesn’t sound like you were saved. Your behavior and your atheism doesn’t reflect the change that is described in the Bible.” He went on to explain that salvation is a change brought about the presence of the Holy Spirit in the new believer. There is a desire to learn more about God and His Word. There is a desire to serve him and to live one’s life in surrender to Him.

I had to pause and think about that. And, doggone it, you know what? He was right. And the reason I knew that was because I had only to look at the last four months of my life, even more so since I had returned from Christmas vacation. That desire – that hunger – to know God had never been present in my life until September 17, 2020. That was the night I surrendered to Christ in an awkward, fumbling prayer on the way home from work. Ever since, I have had nothing but a desire to read my Bible and change my life. I told pastor this, and he agreed. It was evident now that I was truly saved. That evidence was lacking in my youth and my adult life up to this point.

My third major surprise of that initial counseling session – yes, that was what is was – was when pastor told me he was assigning me homework for our next weekly conversation. He wanted me to read the book of 1 John. He explained that we would eventually get to the issue of homosexuality, but that we needed to cover this ground first. I agreed to the assignment, and we hung up. I glanced at the clock in the upper corner of my computer screen. We had talked for almost an hour. I immediately reached for my Bible and opened it to 1 John. I read the whole book in about ten minutes.

1 John is a primer for the new believer. John states clearly and succinctly what makes a Christian a Christian. Chapter 1:9 was immediately familiar to me from my Sunday School days: “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” So was chapter 2:9: “He that saith he is in the light, and hateth his brother, is in darkness, even until now.” John goes to say in chapter 5:2: “By this we know that we love the children of God, when we love God, and keep His commandments.” And, finally, verse 20 of that same chapter: “And we know that the Son of God is come, and hath given us an understanding, that we may know Him that is true, and we are in Him that is true, even in His Son Jesus Christ. This is the true God, and eternal life.”

Yep. All of that book made perfect sense. Part of that was because I had absorbed so much of God’s Word in my youth that it had sat in the deep recesses of my brain for all of my life, and much of it had begun floating to the surface in the last several months – like debris from an ancient wartime submarine that has been recently dislodged from its ocean grave. Except that these artifacts – Bible verses, fragments of sermons, some of Mr. Walker’s proverbs from Bible class – were not dirty, soggy, disgusting relics. They were bits of priceless treasure, and I’ve been rediscovering them in dribs and drabs ever since.

I have had three sessions with Pastor Sjostrom, and they are each the highlight of my week. I very nearly broke down after hanging up from our first talk. I felt a combination of immense relief, peace and calm. Not to be overly melodramatic, but it was if something had dislodged in my very soul, like a sliver of wood just beneath the skin that has never quite come all the way out. I realized with immediate clarity that I was getting far more than just a pastor’s opinion on a particular issue for my book. I had stumbled on to something else, something I needed far more: spiritual counseling and guidance for my new life as a child of God.

I am a new believer.

That seems so strange to say out loud. I was raised in the church. I had at least a third of the Bible memorized by the time I was twelve. I knew all the major stories from the Old Testament – the creation of the world; God’s covenant with Abraham; Jacob, Esau and Isaac; Joseph sold into slavery into Egypt and God’s eventual deliverance of the Israelites from their captivity there; the introduction of the ten commandments and the Mosaic Law; Esther, Ruth, King Saul, David, the Book of Psalms, the prophet Isaiah – I knew all of it by heart by the end of my days in elementary school. Same for the New Testament – the birth of Christ; all of His teachings and parables; His death on the cross; His resurrection after three days; the founding of His church after His ascension back to Heaven – it was all as familiar to me by the time I walked away from high school as the mathematical precepts of basic addition, subtraction, division and multiplication.

I had assumed all this time that I was still saved. I thought I had really, genuinely believed in Jesus as my savior that long ago night in 1985 when I was seven years old. And maybe I did. But, for whatever reason, the Holy Spirit had not come into me back then. I was not truly saved. (This is perhaps worthy of a more detailed discussion and analysis later on down the road.) Whatever the case, I am most definitely a new believer now. The Holy Spirit is alive and well within me, and I have only a single desire and purpose: to know the God that created me, and to serve him with all my heart, soul and mind.

Pastor and I did discuss my homosexuality issue in our second talk, and that, along with the extracurricular reading I’ve been doing on this topic, has enabled me to finally reconcile what I couldn’t in my teen years when I first fought with this problem.

- 2 -

If I am gay, and God – through His written word – has condemned what I am as a sin, how can I be His child and serve Him as he commanded me to do? That’s the question I’ve been wrestling with anew for the last few months. I began this new journey in last September with the premise that I was born gay. I’ve believed that my whole adult life. I proceeded from that assumption through all of my reading and research these last few weeks. But if God made me this way, why would He then condemn as an abomination the very thing that I am? Is He not contradicting Himself? How can this be?

Pastor Sjostrom asked that very question in our second talk. He then went on to answer it by explaining that my unnatural desire for the same sex was a cause of the Fall, when Adam and Eve disobeyed God and ate of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. This is what led their descendants to the sins of idolatry, fornication, sexual perversion, and many, many others. Yes, I was born gay. But that’s not how God made me. There’s a very distinct difference.

His explanation corroborated what I have come to discover in the last couple weeks as I’ve read Two Views on Homosexuality, the Bible, and the Church from the Counterpoints series. Author and editor Preston Sprinkle gathered four prominent Christian authors, scholars, and theologians to discuss this issue – two for and two against. I will not go into great detail of what these authors debate and discuss, mainly for the sake of page and time, but also because this issue is not anywhere near as complicated as it seems.

All four of the contributing authors to the Two Views book have used the following Bible verses/passages as the foundation of their arguments:

1.) The creation story in Genesis 1 and 2.

2.) Genesis 19:4-11 (Sodom & Gomorrah)

3.) Leviticus 18:22 & 20:13

4.) 1 Corinthians 6:9-11

5.) 2 Corinthians 5:17

6.) Romans 1:18-32, emphasis on verses 26-28

7.) 1 Timothy 1:9-10

Those authors have also drawn from extra-Biblical material such as the writings of Philo, a Jewish historian who was a contemporary of the apostle Paul; the Apocrypha; the writings of Saint Augustine; and various other books – most written in the last 50 years – on sociology, sexuality and anthropology in the ancient world.

Here’s an example of one of one of the arguments for the church’s endorsement of homosexuality. One of Two Views’ contributors, Megan Defranza argues that there were many people in Biblical times that were born with no distinct male or female genitalia or other defining sexual characteristics. These “intersex individuals” were often referred to as eunuchs by the people of that time, and many of them were used as sex slaves. Megan claims that Genesis 1 is “…a theological account describing creation in broad categories, not an exact scientific inventory of all of God’s good creatures.” She goes on to say that Adam and Eve were not the exclusive, ideal models for all of man and womankind. They were, rather, just the broad categories; that the birth of eunuchs and other such of types of intersex people prove that God would welcome the church’s acceptance of gays, lesbians and transgenders since they have been born that way, and their sexual desires are natural to them. She claims that God was not condemning the eunuchs and other similar people in those verses/passages I listed above. Those condemnations were for the ones who had turned deliberately turned away from God to worship idols and indulge their sinful lusts.

There’s a lot more detail to Megan’s argument, especially regarding the eunuchs and their forced sexual slavery to their male masters, but it’s not worth going into here. The other three contributing authors give similar arguments, citing external sources in addition to scripture, to support their particular view. Wesley Hill and Stephen Holmes, the two that are opposed to the church’s condoning of homosexuality and gay marriage, give the stronger of the four arguments. Two Views opens with Megan’s and William Loader’s essays (the other author who falls on the affirming and open acceptance side of this debate), but by the time I reached the end of their arguments, I already knew which side of this issue I was going to fall on.

Wesley Hill and Stephen Holmes – as well as Pastor Sjostrom – present a much stronger, sounder case for why the Christian church, no matter the denomination, should be condemning ALL forms of homosexuality as clearly as God does. My own Bible reading and prayer showed me this after only a few weeks. I don’t really need to read all the other books on this topic to know the truth. To be completely honest, I had a pretty good idea of what the end of this journey would look like before I even started it. All the verses from Genesis, Leviticus, Romans, 1st and 2nd Corinthians, and 1st Timothy that deal with this specific issue are quite clear. It is stated over and over: homosexuality is a sin in the eyes of God. Paul stated it best in 1 Corinthians 6:9-11:

“Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you: but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of our Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God.”

That word “effeminate” in the KJV is translated from the original Greek word that Paul used: arsenokoitai. This is a compound word: arsen – male; koite – bed. “Male bedders”, in other words; those men who sleep with other men. In the NIV translation, the word “effeminate” is replaced with the phrase “men who sleep with other men”. The only other passage that Paul uses that word is in 1 Timothy 1:8-10 (NKJV):

“But we know that the law is good if one uses it lawfully, knowing this: that the law is not made for a righteous person, but for the lawless and insubordinate, for the ungodly and for sinners, for the unholy and profane, for murderers of fathers and murderers of mothers, for manslayers, for fornicators, for sodomites, for kidnappers, for liars, for perjurers, and if there is any other thing that is contrary to sound doctrine…”

The meaning of these two passages is quite clear: those that practice any or all of those sins listed will not inherit the kingdom of God. They are not true believers and followers of Christ. And thus, any church that not only allows its homosexual members to remain in their sin, but also performs gay marriage, is not a true church of God.

And such were some of you.

God has commanded those that follow Him and declare His name to turn from their wickedness and be transformed. Those that believe on His name and repent of their sins will no longer practice those sins listed in the passages I quoted above. That’s the meaning of the phrase, “…and such were some of you.” Well, I have definitely been transformed. I can feel the Holy Spirit working in me. And, because of that, I have no other choice. If I am to be faithful to my Lord and Creator, if I surrender myself completely to His will, I must take a vow to turn away from my sin nature. I cannot indulge in the “lusts of the flesh”, as Paul says in Romans, if I am to call myself a true Christian. I am now a child of God, and His will alone must govern all I say and do.

But, even more important than those passages I listed and quoted above, is the book of Genesis, chapter two. God created Adam first and then He decided it wasn’t good for man to be alone. So God made the woman out of Adam’s rib, and he called her ‘Eve”. Then, in verse twenty-four, God said, “Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.” This chapter, more than any other passage in the Bible, clearly and explicitly demonstrates what God had intended from the very beginning. The only natural desire of the flesh was for the opposite sex: man for woman and woman for man. That was God’s original plan.

Unfortunately for us, Adam and Eve did not resist the serpent’s temptation to eat of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. After the Fall, their perfect, pure natures were corrupted by sin, and that corruption was passed unto their children, and their children’s children. Part of that corruption was the perversion of the natural, normal sexual desire. Men lusted after men and women for women. Even though the subsequent passages in Genesis which describe mankind’s deplorable state before the Great Flood never state it specifically, it is not unreasonable to assume that more than just homosexuality was a problem. Bestiality, pedophilia, rape and incest were very likely abundant among the first few generations of man, as well as the worship of false idols and complete rejection of God. Why else would God have felt the need to punish his creation by wiping them from the face of the Earth, save for Noah and his family?

As the old saying goes, ‘God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve’. I’ve always hated that pithy, snarky retort whenever I had to defend my sexuality to anyone who tried to tell me I was living in sin. But it’s true. God created only Adam and Eve; not Adam and Steve; not Melissa and Eve; not Adam, Eve, and some other non-gender, non-binary person.

Just Adam and Eve.

Man and woman were joined in holy matrimony and, until the Fall, they lived in perfect peace and union with their Lord and Creator. Anything that deviates from that original, holy standard that God still demands of His children today, is a sin. That includes homosexuality, bestiality, pedophilia, incest, idolatry and devil worship, to name a few. Anyone that willfully practices or engages in any of those things and does not repent cannot call himself a true believer in Christ. Nor can any church that not only openly endorses homosexuality but also performs gay marriage can call themselves a true church of Christ.

So then, what now? If I accept that my sexuality is a byproduct of my sin nature, and that God, in fact, did not make me this way, how can I best serve Him? I’m still gay. That hasn’t changed. (And, yes, I’m sure. I’m watching last week’s episode of The Resident as I write this. Matt Czuchry and Manish Dayal are among the best male eye candy on TV right now.) I still desire a physical relationship with another man. (Either of the aforementioned actors would be especially nice.) But that desire – as well as the act – is a sin. God has made that clear in his Word. After some more talk with Pastor Sjostrom, I finally came to an answer – or, at least, part of one.

- 3 -

I mistakenly assumed that after I asked Christ into my heart, after I surrendered myself to God, that my sin nature would be transformed. I thought what many torn, conflicted gay Christians and their family have thought: with enough prayer, genuine repentance, and strong faith I would no longer be a homosexual. God would change my unnatural desire, and I would be sexually attracted to women instead of men. I would throw out all the symbols of my gay pride that I had collected over the years – t-shirts, bracelets, baseball caps, the rainbow colored Apple watch bands – and I would begin my new life as a heterosexual man. 2 Corinthians 5:17: “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” Yes, it would be hard at first, but God and I would make this work, glory hallelujah amen!

But that’s not how salvation works. Yes, there was a transformation, but not quite the kind that I was expecting. It’s hard to put into words exactly what I felt in the weeks and months following that quiet prayer on that car ride home from work late the night of September 17, 2020. I knew for sure that something was different. To begin with, there was an almost instant peace and calm that settled over my entire being. All the anxiety, the fear, and the worry about the state of the world around me that had been plaguing me for many weeks melted away. In its place was a quiet, firm assurance that, no matter what happened from then on, I was in the hands of God. He would take care of me.

And then, in the days and weeks that followed that moment of salvation, I began to feel more than just spiritual peace and tranquility. The first was a hunger – an insatiable, ravenous desire to read my Bible. I had only the app on my iPad, and I started with Genesis 1. Every night, before bed, I would read two or three chapters. And then I would pray. It was awkward and nothing like the prayers that I heard time and again from my dad or my teachers in high school or my pastor back then. I stumbled over my words, I repeated myself, I kept forgetting what I wanted to say. And I still felt weird doing it. It was like I was talking to myself. But I kept praying nonetheless.

Gradually, as Christmas loomed closer and closer, and the more I read my Bible and talked to God, I felt something stronger inside of me. But it wasn’t anything physical, like an emotion. It was…something else, something in my soul. I imagined this new feeling as a few drops of red ink falling into a bowl of clear water. At first, the drops fall straight down, coloring only a little bit of the water. But then the ink begins to slowly spread, crimson tendrils that stretch outwards, eventually turning the whole water into the color of blood. That’s what it felt like was happening inside of me. My soul – the very thing that made me me was being changed from the inside out. And it felt damn good!

It was after my Christmas vacation, after ten days of rest and relaxation with my family in Idaho, that I noticed an even bigger change. When I returned to the daily grind of my two jobs, I realized that my whole attitude – and, by extension, my whole outlook on life – had been transformed. I was no longer the angry, anxious, frustrated, fearful man that was always pissed about something – usually the people who were my customers. Before, I was short tempered, impatient, always inwardly complaining whenever those around me were being difficult or annoying me in some way. Now, however, I was at peace. The difference in my new attitude from the old was as glaring as night from day. I greeted my customers with a smile. It was no longer an effort for me to be patient with the difficult ones. Nor did I feel the need to rant and rage on social media about the problems of the world, as I had been doing practically non-stop before I became saved.

It was like being wrapped inside joy, as if joy was something tangible – like a big, soft, warm blanket fresh from the dryer. I had to constantly check my reflection because I was sure I had a giant, stupid grin on my face all day long. And that feeling only got stronger the more I continued to read my Bible – now an actual book that I had bought from Amazon – and pray. That, too, was getting better. I no longer stumbled over my words or forgot what I wanted to say. The hunger to know God, to build a new relationship with my Creator, overshadowed everything else in my life. I lost interest in many of the things that had once taken up all my time, like watching TV or playing video games. All I wanted to do every night when I got home from a busy day was to open God’s Word and keep reading.

But there was one thing that didn’t change during all of that wonderful transformation. I’m still gay. The desire for that sin is still there, as strong and lustful as ever. Everything else about me seems different. I am, indeed, a new creature in Christ. So why am I still gay? Why is this particular thorn still lodged firmly deep in my flesh?

I still don’t have an answer. But I do have a theory. The transformation of the new believer in Christ is not like wiping the old operating system of your ten year old iMac. With a computer you can install a whole new operating system that’s free of the bugs, viruses and malware that plagued the old system. The hardware is still the same old hardware, but the software is brand new. Your computer has been transformed. It performs and operates like a new machine.

But we humans are not machines. We are creatures born of the Fall. Being saved in Christ has made us like new, but the old self – the old, corrupt nature – is still there. The old operating system hasn’t been wiped away. Rather, the new OS is now installed, and the two systems are at war with one another. Why is that, I wonder? Why doesn’t God simply transform our sin nature by wiping it way when He fills us with the Holy Spirit? Wouldn’t that be easier – and more complete – than forcing us to constantly battle our old selves in order to remain faithful and obedient to Him?

The honest answer is, I don’t know.

What I do know is that God, in His infinite wisdom, has chosen not to remove this particular thorn in my flesh. I am still gay.

The thorn in my flesh. Yeah, that phrase sounds familiar. In fact, it’s been rolling around in the back of my brain for several weeks now.

In 2 Corinthians 12:7-10, Paul writes of the “thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan sent to buffet me.” Those four verses, more than any other Bible passages that I’ve read and also read about, have continued to echo within me ever since the beginning of this journey. Many pastors and scholars agree that that the thorn Paul speaks of was of a spiritual nature, not a physical. Paul says that he “…besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me.”

The thorn in my flesh.

What if I am in the same seat as Paul? What if my sexuality is the ‘thorn’ in my own flesh?

I think that part of the reason that God doesn’t just snap his fingers and wipe away our old self is because, without those old, sinful desires and temptations, we wouldn’t continually come back to Him for mercy, grace and forgiveness. It might have taken a little longer for me to surrender if the outside world hadn’t melted down last year, but I have no doubt now that God has always been working in my life, and He wants my love, worship and obedience. My homosexuality is a reminder from Him that I have a choice: I can give in to my sin nature and indulge my own desires, or I can turn from the flesh, take up my cross daily, and follow Him.

God knows us better than we know ourselves. He knows our sin nature, and He knows that when times are good, when everything is going our way, we often forget Him – just as the Israelites did over and over in the Old Testament. We get wrapped up in our daily lives, turn away from Him, and give our worship to false idols instead; or we just pay Him our weekly rituals and sacrifice on Sunday, and then put aside our Bibles until the following week. But it’s during the times of adversity, when God allows the trials and tribulations of life to afflict us, that we come to Him. We seek Him because He is our only source of comfort and peace. The storms in our lives remind us that God alone can save us, can heal us. Our afflictions draw us closer to Him. And, if we remain faithful to Him, there is much reward for our devotion and service. When the storm has passed, we often find a rainbow.

The rainbow was God’s covenant with Noah and his descendants that God would never again destroy the world with a flood. In our modern world the homosexual revolution of fifty years ago took the rainbow as a symbol of pride and diversity. When I entered my adult life as an out and proud gay man, I, too, adopted the rainbow as a symbol of pride in myself. I vowed to live my life on my terms, and I wouldn’t be cowered or ashamed into silence about who I was, of what I had been born as. But, of course, I have renounced all of that since becoming a new child of God. It is NOT my life, but His as a gift to me. I live now in complete service to Him, and Him alone.

But I’m not quite ready to throw away my rainbow bracelet that I wear on my right wrist every day. It is still a symbol to me – and to everyone I meet in daily life – but not the one that it used to be. I have found a new place beneath the rainbow created by God in the aftermath of that flood in Genesis. The peace and reconciliation I have long sought has been found at last, and the rainbow is a symbol of both my old life and my new one in God’s service. I don’t find that conflicting at all, just as I have no problem calling myself a gay Christian. Until such time as God, in his perfect timing and wisdom, decides to change my unnatural desire completely, I will always be a gay Christian, and the rainbow will be a sign of my personal covenant with Him.

The process of reconciling this issue, the spiritual traveling and soul searching that I have done over the last few months, has shown me clearly that God is my Lord and Savior. He has allowed this affliction so that I would do the work that I needed to reconcile what appeared to be a crisis of faith. I wouldn’t have experienced personal growth in my life – and my faith – without this conflict and pain. Yes, it has been painful. Peeling back the faded scars of old wounds wasn’t not all pleasant. I had to go back to that fifteen-year-old kid and have a long talk with him. (See section 5 of this post.) I wrote letters to my parents and my three brothers, apologizing for the way I treated them all those years ago. I have recognized how selfishly I have been living my adult life, and the pride of my old nature has screamed fiercely whenever I bow my knee and my heart every morning in prayer. There is now a fight within me – the old nature vs. the new self – that will never let up until I die. And, sometimes, that fight will be painful. And yes, I already know that there are times when I will fail, when I will give in to the temptation to break my new vow with God. But that failure is not as important to God as whether or not I stay in the fight. And I will stay. I’m in this for the long haul, and I know without a shred of doubt that God is on my side. He wants me to succeed.

Hallelujah, amen!

- 4 -

Most of you have seen my post on Facebook from three days ago. My only answer from God to this twenty-four-year-old conflict has been a call to celibacy. Until such time as he chooses to change my sin nature, to change my unnatural desire into a natural one, I have made the following vow to Him:

I take a vow of celibacy before God; that I have surrendered my life and my will unto Him; that I will not give in to the temptations of my sinful flesh; that I recognize my homosexual desire as a sin in His eyes, an abomination caused by the Fall; that He has saved my soul from eternal damnation, and I owe him nothing less than my whole heart, soul and mind.

I take this vow on the 3rd of February, 2021.

Amen.

- 5 -

I read a long time ago – probably in a textbook somewhere in college – that one of the tools therapists and psychiatrists use in their counseling of patients is to have their patients write a letter to their past selves. As I mentioned earlier in this post, I wrote letters to my family to apologize for how I had wronged them in the past. After some more thought and deliberation I decided to write one more letter, this time to that fifteen year old kid that used to be me.

At first, I thought this a stupid idea. I mean, how much more clichéd can one get? Plus, I’ve already treaded into dangerously melodramatic waters in this post. Is yet one more emotional, sappy passage needed?

Ehhhh…yes and no. Turns out, I had a lot more to say to myself than I thought at first, and, son-of-a-gun, I did feel remarkably better afterwards. Guess there was some genuine, therapeutic value to this little exercise after all.

So…here it is.

Hello.

It's been a long time.

Yes, I see you. You've been there all along, but only recently have I begun to really see you. You've been with me my whole adult life, affecting me, shaping me in ways I never realized until now. I thought I left you behind when I left high school. At various times in my life since, I've judged you, shunned you, tried to erase you, or just simply ignored you. I could never understand why you never had the courage to speak up, to ask for help. There were a few adults – or even your friends – who would have very likely sympathized and tried to help you. All you had to do was say something! But you didn't. You kept your secret, protecting it, guarding it like Gollum with his precious ring. I was the one who eventually had to reveal the secret to those around me when I was old enough and no longer ashamed of what I was.

But now I realize that instead of judging you and blaming you, there's one thing that I should have done long ago. I never said, “Thank you.” Thank you for giving me the strength and courage to step into the world as a confident, independent adult. It was because of you, what you went through silently as a teenager, that I developed the strength and resolve to live my truth as an adult. It was because of you that I knew what I wanted in life. It was never my desire to just go with the flow, to blend into the crowd and do whatever everyone else was doing. I did my own thing. And yes, it would have been better if I had been living that truth within God's will, but God, in His infinite wisdom, decided not to work His will just yet. He chose to wait while I forged my own path.

Part of me wishes that I could go back in time and be the adult that you needed. I would have embraced you, told you that you weren't a mistake; that God loves you just the way you are, including being gay. And, deep down inside, you knew that you were loved. Your parents told you that every day. But you always had that sliver of doubt in the back of your mind.

“Would you still love me if you knew my secret? Would you still accept me if I was gay?”

I, the adult looking back at you across the gulf of years between us, know the answer to that is a resounding “Yes! They have always loved you, no matter what!”

Part of me also wonders how our life would have been different if you had reached out to the one person that understood what you were going through; the one that knew your pain – and your secret. It was He that made you, after all. What I can see so clearly now is that it never occurred to you to reach out to God. You only knew Him through the church, through your teachers, through your parents, through all the endless rules, and restrictions, and demands that they all placed on you. That's what you rebelled against. God, to you, was just a system, an institution that governed every corner of your life. That institution would never understand your secret, would never accept you for the real you.

But He was there all along. He was there on those nights when you cried yourself to sleep. You were struggling to understand your pain, to understand the turmoil inside you, but you didn't have the words or the wisdom or the experience to fully realize it all. All that you knew was anger, frustration and fear. But God understood you, and He was there in the darkness, crying with you.

I want so badly to be there now, to wrap you in my arms and wipe away your tears and tell you that everything will be okay. Because it will be. You can’t see it now, but things will get better. You will find a way through this, and you will emerge on the other side with a strength and resolve that you never knew you had within you. The rest of your life is an as-yet-unwritten map of joys and blessings, failures and setbacks, triumphs and successes that will make all of this suffering worthwhile. You will know happiness that you couldn’t dream of – most of it found within the family that you don’t understand or get along with now. (There are 10 nieces and nephews that think you’re the greatest uncle ever, for example.) God has a plan for you, and, like the father of the prodigal son, He will be there with open arms when you finally come back home. He will accept you, just as you are.

But all of that is for later. For now, just know this: the storm will pass, and there will be peace.

You will find your rainbow.

#christianity #life #personal growth #homosexuality #gay

2 notes · View notes