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kouomi · 3 years

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Counting Down To You

Summary: When meeting your soulmate is a matter of life or death, is it possible to beat the clock and find them in time? (F!Reader x Sakusa Kiyoomi)

Warnings: talking about death, some sadness, fluff at end, sad to happy

Word count: 3,010

A/N: sorry for not posting in a while! Pulled this out of my drafts, there might be a lil sequel/separate ending to this later!

Masterlist

Posted: April 27th, 2021, 5:30 PM EST

Everyone had countdowns from the moment they were born. It was a ticking time bomb within every person that would be lethal to not only them, but their soulmate as well when it detonated. The whole system of having a soulmate was a double edged sword; sure, if you managed to escape it you met your soulmate, but the slightest slip up could lead you to a grave.

The timer started when you or your soulmate was made aware of the other, such as hearing their name for the first time or seeing a picture. Everyone’s timer was set at different times, most people having a couple decades while some of the lucky ones have a hundred years, or the unlucky only a few years, months, weeks, or even days. When the timer starts it’s simply your soulmates initial and a date on your wrist, but when it got to the last 7 days, the timer turned into one that looked like a clock, slowly ticking off the seconds until left you had to meet them or die.

The death wasn’t immediate, it was more like a sickness. It wasn’t able to be cured even by meeting your soulmate, for as soon as the timer ran out, so did your chance of survival. Once the last second ran out the timer disappeared and was replaced with your soulmates name as if it would be any help at that point. Three days was all you were given after the timer ran out. Three measly days to say goodbye to everything and everyone you knew.

There were other ways other than seeing someone’s timer to tell if their time was running out. Once it turned from a date to hours the person started to become “sick” their body weaker and more noticeably a cough. It was horrible to watch but an even worse feeling was it happening to you.

When your timer started, you were given exactly a year. It felt like a cruel joke that at the age of fifteen you were only given a year to find your soulmate or die, but the date on your wrist was a constant reminder it was reality. You tried for almost that entire year to find him, to find the one with a matching timer and who matched the initial on your wrist but it was useless. Even if you managed to find them you’d have to kiss them to stop the timer and you couldn’t go around kissing every stranger who’s name happened to start with K. By the last two weeks you’d given up, finally coming to terms with the fact you were going to die and there was nothing you could do about it.

You were in Tokyo for the national volleyball tournament as you were accompanying the team you managed, happy to at least be in a beautiful city for your last few days on earth. A gentle breeze picked up your hair and blew it around your shoulders, a few stray strands waving in front of your face as you stared at the quiet city streets below. It was oddly peaceful, a sense of a calm before the storm blanketing the night and preserving the moment around you.

“Y/n/n?” A familiar voice asks from behind you, “What’re ya doin out here, it’s freezing.”

Turning around you see one of your closest friends, Miya Atsumu walked out on to the balcony where you stood, leaning on the railing. You’d noticed the freezing air nipping at your bare skin but hadn’t paid much mind to it, your mind to focused on other things to care about the cold.

“Waiting.” You answered, returning your gaze to the sky as he walked over to stand next to you.

“Waitin for what?”

You glance at your phone screen, seeing it read 11:59 before moving your arm up so it rested underside up on the metal railing. Just as you did so the date on your wrist disappeared and was replaced with a timer, the seconds slowly ticking away.

“That.” You sigh, taking notice of the way the normally positive atmosphere that followed Atsumu had faded, “167 hours, 59 minutes, and 47 seconds left.”

“Hey, maybe we’ll find them here!” He exclaims, a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes crossing his face, “There’s thousands of people!”

“I can’t go around kissing thousands of random people, Tsu.” You chuckle, pushing off of the railing and walking back to the door, “Come on.”

“I have an idea!” The blonde gasps before rushing inside, making you give him a quizzical look as he frantically looks around the room.

“Why are ya yelling at midnight?” An authoritative voice asks, making Atsumu freeze momentarily before he turns around.

“Kita! Yer name starts with K right?”

“Do I really need to answer that?”

“Atsumu, I know what you’re thinking and no.” You say, watching as his shoulders droop.

“Why not?!”

“Kitas timer hasn’t even started yet.”

“It’s worth a shot! He has the right initials, doesn’t he?”

Both you and the captain blink at him before glancing at each other and shaking your heads.

“They’re backwards.” Kita states, Atsumus face falling at the realization, “Hers say S.K. mine are K.S.”

“Thanks anyway Tsu.” You smile, your hand resting on his shoulder as you walk past him and down the hall, “Don’t worry about it. I still have a week to watch you guys win. Good night.”

The two boys watch you leave, a sad feeling encompassing the room as you disappear down the hallway. The silence hangs in the air as if saying it’s own piece to the drastic weight of the situation, the weight pulling down on the two making their shoulders visibly slump as they continue to stare where you once stood.

“Stop looking at ‘er like she’s already dead.” Kita says, making Atsumu jump. “Yer just gonna make ‘er feel worse.”

Almost as soon as you’d slipped through the door of your room you collapsed on to your bed, an empty feeling filling your chest as you pulled your blanket over your head. Sure, you’d come to terms with the fact you were going to die, but it didn’t stop the horrible feeling that weighed down your heart as it set in that this was your last week. In another week you’d probably be in a hospital bed with all of your friends giving you sad pitiful looks as you slowly withered away, left with nothing other than the name of the soulmate you’d failed to meet in time.

Were they panicking as well? Were they doing everything they possibly could to find you so you could both survive? This was the greatest chance you had to find them seeing as you were in the city and at a large event, but what were the chances of them even being there?

Your worries and questions followed you into your sleep, dried tear tracks staining your face as you fought to get any rest.

Even in your dreams you found yourself on the brink of death, a man standing just out of reach. He was so close, you could feel the fabric of his jacket just barely brush past your fingertips. He was so so close, yet so impossibly far, you found the last slivers of hope you held for finding this stranger in time slipping away just as he began to walk out of your view.

3 hours 26 minutes and 17 seconds

They’d lost. You watched with a hallow expression as the boys dressed in orange and the entire stadium cheered for Karasuno and their victory, while your team was almost frozen in time in disbelief at the final score. After what felt like hours you all walked off the court, silence haunting the group as they all sulked.

“I’m sorry Y/n.”

You turn around and see a few of the boys standing in front of you almost at the brink of tears, their sad gazes only getting worse as they fell upon you.

“Ya said that you’d be watching us win until...” Atsumu continues, his hand clenching into a fist as he trails off, “But we lost. Sorry.”

“Stop being so dramatic, Tsu.” You say, making his expression turn to one of surprise as he and his brother look to you, “Just being able to see you guys play like that was good enough. Especially seeing that quick attack. Man, that was cool!”

They both smile slightly and so do you, walking closer and hugging them both with one arm. You close your eyes for a moment and relish in the hug, imprinting the feeling on your mind as one of your favorite. They squeeze you to themselves though you don’t mind, the three of you standing there for what felt like hours. You wished you could stay there for hours, stand in the arms of the people you considered family. You wanted to stay with them, with the whole team and make more memories, to keep living with them. Your heart ached for the wish as you knew it was an impossible request, knowing this most likely would be the last time you could hug them. If only there was more time, just a few more days. But the timer on your wrist continues to tick, the seconds going by and your time running out.

After a while you finally let go and walked out with the others, the air not as heavy as it previously was though the discord in your head running wild.

0 hours 10 minutes and 43 seconds

“Hey Y/n, are you coming?” Aran asks, standing on the first stair of the bus and looking to you.

You look down at your wrist and read the numbers, feeling a pull at your heart.

“I’m gonna take a walk really quick, can you guys wait a few minutes?” You ask.

He nods, hiding his worry for you behind a slight frown before he climbs into the bus, the doors shutting behind him and the engine starting as the bus waits to leave.

You sigh as you turn around and start walking down the sidewalk, a cough racking your sore body as you did so. Everything hurt and your legs resisted every movement, but you refused to spend these few minutes stuck in the bus.

0 hours 2 minutes and 24 seconds

Finally you came across a bench where you collapsed, a grunt leaving your body as you finally relieve your legs of your weight. Your head was thrown back on the back of the bench and you stared up at the cloudless sky, the stars seeming to laugh as they stared at your disheveled state.

“Could you not sit so close?”

You turn your head to the side and see another person on the bench next to you. With a sigh you scoot over, wincing at the burning sensation in your arms as you do so. The stranger hunches over himself and you hear the all too familiar sound of coughing, their fit lasting almost an entire minute before they straighten themselves out again.

“Are you okay?” You ask, turning your gaze away from the sky to look at them.

“Fine.” He mumbles though another cough gives away his lie, “There’s not enough time for me to care.”

You give a light laugh, a cough of your own stopping it short. “Time’s a bitch, huh?”

“Sure.”

0 hours 0 minutes and 53 seconds

“What’s your name?” You ask after a few seconds of silence.

“... Sakusa. Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

Your heart seems to stop as you hear this, the world around you suddenly coming to a halt as you blink at him.

“You’re joking right?” You ask in disbelief. Surely this was some kind of messed up prank, it wasn’t possible.

“Why would I be joking?” He responds, “Who’re you?”

“Y/n. Y/l/n.”

You see his eyes widen as he turns to face you, his once defeated appearance gaining new life though the exhaustion is still visible in his droopy shoulders and bags under his eyes. Despite the mask covering half of his face you could tell he was attractive, dark brown eyes that bore into yours slightly obscured by long curls. There were two moles on his forehead that were hardly visible in the low light, his intense expression almost forcing you to look away.

0 hours 0 minutes and 32 seconds

“Are you...” He starts, eyes glancing down for a moment, “Your wrist.”

0 hours 0 minutes and 27 seconds

You read the number in your head as you held out a shaky arm for him to see, a small gasp leaving your lips as he holds out his own for you to see a timer in sync with your own and your initials just below it.

0 hours 0 minutes and 20 seconds

“I’m... we’re not gonna die.” You breathe, your eyes moving up and meeting his again, “I know we just met but I don’t think there’s enough time for us to spare.”

He blinks at you, almost too shocked to respond.

0 hours 0 minutes and 16 seconds

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, anxiously waiting for his response.

0 hours 0 minutes and 13 seconds

Sakusa doesn’t say anything, his other hand unsteadily reaching up to pull his mask off.

0 hours 0 minutes and 8 seconds

Almost in slow motion he leans closer to you, his body almost towering over your own as he rests on one of his hands.

0 hours 0 minutes and 5 seconds

You see your breath in the cold air as you tilt your head up to look at him, fighting back the cough in your lungs as everything around you seems to be slowly clicking into place.

0 hours 0 minutes and 3 seconds

You lean closer to him, his breath dancing on your lips. Just before you meet your body seems to give out beneath you, this small slip up seeming as if it’s been waiting to rip away your last few seconds to save your life.

0 hours 0 minutes and 2 seconds

Sakusas other arm shoots out and hooks under your back, holding you up and closer to himself.

0 hours 0 minutes and 1 second

As soon as you were supported in his grasp you leaned up and pressed your lips against his, your eyes fluttering shut as you put all of your hope and fear into this one moment. The kiss is short but it felt as if something you were missing all your life, your body feeling reenergized and the air escaping your lungs as you pull away.

You blink at each other for a moment before you both look at your wrists, joy filling you both when you see the timer stopped at one second. Below it where there was once only two letters is now each other’s names, the sight making butterflies fly through your stomach.

Realizing his arm was still around you, a light blush dusts your cheeks as you suddenly acknowledge how close you were to each other.

“Y/n?” You hear Atsumu yell from down the street, Sakusas arm pulling away from you as he approaches. “We were lookin all over for you, are ya okay?”

“I’m okay.” You smile, “And you don’t need to find a replacement for me just yet.”

“Huh?” He asks, finally noticing the boy next to you, “Oh hey Sakusa, what’re ya doin- wait.”

“Hi.” He says, cringing as Atsumu seems to explode.

“Y/n, you and Sakusa?!” He exclaims, “I can’t believe this!”

“Why are you yelling so much Tsu?” You ask though give him a smile, “Why were you looking for me?”

“Oh yeah, Coach wants to leave.” Atsumu answers, “And ya were gone a while, we got worried.”

“I’ll be there in a second.” You say, nodding for him to leave. He gives a loud “ohh” when he finally understands what you were implying, giving a thumbs up before jogging back the way he came.

“I should probably head back too.” Sakusa says, standing from the bench and stumbling slightly.

“Sakusa?” You ask, standing as well. He turns around, pulling his mask back over his face and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Kiyoomi.” He says in an almost shy tone.

“Kiyoomi.” You repeat, smiling slightly at his name, “Can I get your number?”

“Y/n yer back!” One of the boys yells as you climbed on to the bus, taking one of the free seats.

“Yep.” You grin, all of them giving you a strange look before you hold up your wrist, the once gloomy atmosphere turning joyful as you’re practically tackled out of your seat and into a giant mess of a group hug.

“Yer not gonna die?” Osamu asks in a whisper, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“No, I’m not.” You respond, your arms wrapping around all of them and squeezing. “Now can you all stop crying? You’re gonna make me cry.”

There’s a small series of laughs as you’re somehow held tighter, the tension the last thing on your mind as you close your eyes. What had once felt bittersweet now brought joy to you as you relished in the feeling of being with the people you considered family. Finally, after a year of living your life as if it was your last moments, you were able to stop; to take a moment to breathe. That one kiss had freed you of the chains of a ticking clock and given you the thing you’d only ever dreamed of: more time.

As you all were forced to pull away by your coaches telling you to get in your seats your mind wandered to the boy who’d made this possible. Sakusa Kiyoomi, though he was still a stranger to you, had made a spot for himself in your thoughts as well as bringing butterflies through your stomach. Maybe with the extra time he’d given you, you could spend it with him.

Kiyoomi. You thought, thanks for being my soulmate.

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years

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You are my sunshine (Finn x GN reader)

What is this? This is 7/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. (More deets in pinned post). The prompt is from @phoenixhalliwell and is Finn with “You think something is wrong but I simply have a huge crush on you and turn to jelly whenever you’re around.” Emma, thanks so much, and I hope that you like this! <3 I don’t write Finn often so I dearly hope I did him justice!

Author’s note: Finn! He’s precious. He deserves everything! Hope you enjoy this- there’s a little bit of angst but it’s followed by fluff. Everything ends well <3

Word count: 3k. You had all better be proud of me for writing something less than 5k :P

Warnings: lil bit of angst (reader thinks Finn is mad at them). Trapped in a cockpit but no danger / not claustrophobic or anything. Slight reader insecurity. It’s pretty light tbh :o)

You watch Finn leave with a sharp pang of pain. His excuses are becoming more and more elaborate, and it’s wearing thin.

“Sorry, I have to go and deal with a porg infestation on the Falcon.”

“I can’t hang around, Leia’s fuming mad at Poe - he made some crude Outer Rim innuendo during the briefing and she is pissed.”

“I can’t play sabacc anyway because... because I got dust in my eyes on the mission and everything is blurry.”

“I have to run and...” and then he, in fact, ran away from you.

Alright, the first two were feasible, but that last one, especially? Pretty kriffing flimsy.

It was beginning to sting a little. Alright, a lot. You and Finn usually hung out, whenever he was around on base. You always had, ever since Finn had taken control of his fate and been welcomed by the Resistance.

Since then, you had become his first real friend, and when everything was scary and new to him, you had held his hand. Literally- Finn was always reaching for you. For comfort. For reassurance. To demonstrate his fondness of you. Just because.

Of course, he’d settled into the Resistance like he’d always been a part of it, and had quickly formed a range of new friendships, including with Poe and Rey - all the cool kids on base. Of course he had. The man is likeable, courageous, and he has sunshine in his heart - despite being raised in the shadows. The strength of his light is so powerful that it blinds you sometimes. So, he’d made other friends, but you had always been his first, and his best.

At least, until now.

Recently, Finn’s touches and warm hugs and light had begun to retreat from your sky. You miss his bright brown eyes and his beaming smile desperately. You miss your movie nights and long chats. You miss laughing until your sides hurt. You miss the way he can turn anything into an adventure. The way he really listens when you talk, and his good, brave, generous heart.

This distance? It is more than a natural drift - it is more an intentional break. Intentional on his side, at least. Most definitely not on yours.

You don’t know why. You don’t know what you’ve done wrong…

…But you are determined to find out.

And, if Finn won’t talk to you off his own back, you’ll simply have to concoct some flimsy excuse of your own.

***

That’s exactly what you do, yourself and Finn now sealed together, alone, in the cockpit of some old cargo ship.

“You’ve trapped us in here?!” the man exclaims, voice loud and ringing with a rising panic.

“No,” you sigh, defeatedly. You don’t want to panic him - you just want to talk to him; without him running away. “You’re not trapped. Obviously, I’d never actually...” you trail off as you watch Finn urgently button-bashing on the control panel by the door, clearly pretty desperate to leave. “I just thought…” you explain, raising your voice a little to be heard over his rising and increasingly vocal frustration. “It was supposed to be a chance for us to talk.”

Finn turns towards you, all this energy coiling in his body, practically bouncing on his toes in his rush to get out of there. He looks as though the prospect of talking to you fills him with dread.

Your face drops. You should have realised this was a bad idea.

“We talked this morning,” Finn defends, weakly. Yeah, for all of two seconds. “Can’t you open this thing?” he pleads, throwing his thumb towards the door.

Fine. Whatever. If he’s that desperate to flee from you, so be it. Maybe you need to accept the fact that things aren’t the same between you anymore. Maybe never will be. Your heart aches in your chest.

Your shoulders slumping, you push the Jedi-in-training and all-round Resistance hero aside, punching the unlock code into the panel.

It beeps angrily in response.

A furrow in your brow, you try again.

“Oh, kriff.”

“What is it?” Finn asks from over your shoulder.

This is fine, actually. You have a back-up. Except, you pat your belt for your communicator, remembering at the same time exactly where you left it in the hangar.

“Okay,” you turn around to face him, your face locked in an apologetic grimace, hands raised in surrender. “So, we may actually be trapped now, but I would like to emphasise this was very much not The Plan.”

Finn purses his full, brown lips together, in entirely transparent irritation, an ire brewing in his eyes.

“I’m sorry!” you say defensively, though you note that your friend, Finn, would have found this funny -made the best of it- and the Finn is front of you now is someone else entirely.

“Being stuck here with you is the last thing I need right now,” Finn says into his hands, the words muffled, and yet their meaning perfectly -and painfully- clear.

Oh. Okay. That’s how it is?

You take a step back from him, wrapping your arms around yourself and rotating quickly away to face the transparisteel window. His harshness feels so alien to you, and bitter tears sting in your eyes, which you don’t want him to see.

“Kriff. That’s not what I meant. It came out wrong,” Finn says softly from behind you, and you finally hear the familiar kindness infusing his voice. The kindness you’ve been so desperate to enjoy again these past weeks. “What I meant was... was...”

Your back to him still, you raise your arm in the air. “Save it, Big Deal. You don’t want to talk to me? Let’s not talk,” you bite, your voice low and taut.

You’ve given Finn the benefit of the doubt for long enough now. Maybe this was a problem you shouldn’t try to fix. He obviously likes things precisely as they are.

Finn, for his part, hovers beside you, clearly apologetic, but you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you focus all of your energies on popping open the console, pulling out the wire guts, and looking for a way to open this damn door.

He may have been running away from you, but now you’re the one who wants nothing more than to get out of there.

You had wanted to talk, but all of a sudden you don’t want to hear it. You can’t take one more flimsy excuse without breaking.

***

You’d tried everything. Banging on the door, waving out of the viewports. Trying to find a hatch to escape out of. There was nothing left to do but wait for your data patch to run. You’d linked-up some wires and an old data-pad to the controls, and it was simply a matter of time before your program loaded, overriding the door panel and thus letting you out of there.

Unfortunately, the small matter of time is proving problematic. It has already been about an hour, and the screen indicates your program is only about 75 per cent through -blasted old tech- and you’re not sure how much longer you can endure this fraught, awkward silence.

Save for your escape attempts, you and Finn still haven’t spoken, and, eventually admitting defeat, you have each sunk to the floor on opposite sides of the cockpit, your knees drawn-up to your chest and backs pressed against the walls of the cool metal chamber. Now, the increasingly cool metal chamber, as the afternoon draws on and the suns begin to sink below the horizon.

You sigh.

“Why are you avoiding me, Finn?” you finally ask, firmly, bringing your eyes to meet his. “And, I beg you. No more kriffing excuses.”

Finn’s knees are drawn-up too, and his elbows resting on top of them, fingers weaving and fiddling together somewhere in the middle as your question finds him.

He purses his lips together once more, his bright, expressive eyes brimming with trepidation, his hand coming up to self-consciously brush against the tip of his rounded nose.

Eventually, his head drops down, until you’re only looking at the top of it. He’s growing out his tightly-coiled, black hair on the top, sides closely cropped, and you idly note that the length suits him. There’s nothing else to note, as he still isn’t saying anything.

Still, when you take a step back from your anger and your boredom, you recognise all the signs of him being anxious, now that he can no longer run away from your questions.

“It’s not what you think,” he sighs, and you shake your head in continued frustration and look sharply away, up and out of the viewport.

And, in the continued absence of an answer from him, your insecurities begin to fill in the blanks. “You know, Big Deal, you don’t have to hang around me just because I’m the first person you met.” Out of the corner of your eye you see Finn’s head snap up to look at you, distress shining in his eyes. You ignore it. “If you’ve decided this friendship isn’t what you need anymore, I can take it. I just wish you’d stop bullshitting me. I deserve better than that.”

Then, you try to suppress it, but you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to keep warm. You’ve felt chilly for a while now, but you have desperately been trying to conceal the fact.

Without missing a beat, Finn slips his -Poe’s- jacket off from his shoulders, shuffling closer to you, without rising from the floor. As he shrugs it off, he reveals nothing but a white, ribbed vest underneath, tight over his toned figure, and tucked into his belt at his waist. The vest sits in contrast with the deep brown of his skin, the bulge of his cultivated muscles evident in his strong, densely-packed shoulders and arms.

This? This is precisely what you’ve been trying to avoid. You feel warmer already.

Regardless, he moves to your side, kneeling next to you, and he pauses when he gets there. Hesitates. He lifts his finger, running it ever so slowly over the textured goosepimples on your forearm. “You’re cold,” he states, his voice so deep and rich, and his touch and his proximity sending a shiver through you in an entirely different way. You’d like to argue, you really would, but he weakens you, his sudden warmth melting you quickly after his long absence, and you let him guide you forward enough that he can drape his jacket around your shoulders. It is still warm from his body heat. It smells like him.

You wanted silence, but this is the kind that you don’t like; tense, albeit in a different way.

“Thank you,” you say thinly, expecting Finn to pull immediately away again. But he doesn’t.

Instead, his eyes go a little wide and afraid, even as he sets his jaw determinedly. He reaches his hand out, ghosting it slowly down the length of your arm, until he has scooped one of your hands up and flattened it in-between his own broad, warm palms.

Holding your hand.

You’ve missed that so much.

You watch Finn in gentle puzzlement, as his pink tongue nervously swipes out over his bottom-lip. And, with your eyes gently encouraging him to go on, he finally blurts it out. He finally says what he’s been keeping from you.

“I have a huge crush on you. I turn to kriffing jelly whenever you’re around me.”

Your hand suddenly becomes clammy, held in-between his. Your heart quickens.

Wait, what?

“I’m so sorry if I hurt you,” he says, his eyes soft like distant starlight. “It’s just, I panic. I know I like to pretend I’m all smooth...” he chuckles self-consciously, that laugh sounding from deep in his chest, and oh boy, you’ve missed that sound too. You’ve missed that gorgeous pearly smile, which blooms tentatively on his face.

“Smooth?! You do a terrible job of that, Finn, no-one’s buying it,” you tease, but it’s fond, your free hand settling on top of his, and your eyes crinkling with reciprocal joy as his beautiful broad smile widens, his face full of sparkle and light.

“Oh? Okay. That’s how it is?” he laughs.

You’ve missed this. Have missed him.

That’s it? That’s all it is? He has a crush?

After a few moments, the two of you apparently basking in relief -on your part that you haven’t done anything wrong, and on his, that his confession is finally through- his smile naturally falls from his lips; however, it lingers in his eyes, that gentle starlight back again.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you. I just… kept messing everything up around you. I didn’t want you to think I was the biggest dumbass on base.”

“Oh, Finn, honey-” you grin, and he completes the sentence with you, nodding, and a big chuckle falling out of him. “Poe is the biggest dumbass on base.”

Isn’t that the truth?

You simply look at each other for a moment, all this starlight swirling in the space between you.

“Come here,” you say softly, finally, unable to resist, and you shuffle on to your knees so you can lean forward and give him the biggest hug, your arms folding around his sturdy, muscled form. It feels so good to close this distance, especially after so long. Especially as no-one on base gives better hugs than Finn, you are reminded, as he holds you.

“Are we... cool?” he asks apprehensively, into your shoulder as he squeezes you tightly, and you pull back from him, your hands still resting on his shoulders and his weaving under, settled around your waist.

“We’ll always be cool, Finn. It’s going to take more than that.”

“Yeah?” he smiles happily. “Good, because I missed you so kriffing much. I have so much to tell you.”

“And I want to hear it, but first,” your mouth tips up into a smirk. “Can I kiss you now?”

Finn’s eyes widen in shock and he makes a bunch of noises – broken, flustered syllables and consonants, his eyelashes fluttering in disbelief. He’s sunk into his relief so readily, that he must have forgotten entirely to entertain the idea you might like him back.

Your hands trail all the way down his toned arms, until you slowly fold his hands into yours, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Play it cool, Finn,” you tease, giving him a quick wink.

He schools himself, and even as you notice a hard swallow bob down his throat, and he lets out a long, slow exhale of breath through the circle of his lips, he makes use of his classic bravado. At least, for long enough to get some coherent strings of words out.

“Yes please. Y-yeah. Kiss me. You... should do that.”

Too many words.

So, you inch forward, and you press a fleeting, light, chaste kiss to his impossibly soft lips. Just enough to shut him up, before dipping your head back, giving him time to respond.

He looks at you sweetly, in shock for a moment, but, before you know it, his lips are chasing yours with a whole new confidence, and his mouth twitches-up in a smile as he meets you again. This time, the kiss is not fleeting. This time, it is drawn-out; a slow, sensual, gradually deepening thing. He hums against your mouth, the sound low and reverberating through you, and, as the kiss grows, his broad hands slowly and safely lower you down against the cockpit floor, arranging his jacket under you so that your skin needn’t touch the cold metal - only his warmth.

When you break for air, he settles himself over you, strong arms holding him up, his eyes shining with disbelief and adoration. He looks at you in a way that says – yes, you may have been his first friend, but that, maybe, you could be his first love as well.

As he gazes down at you, your hands wind up around the back of his head, skimming lovingly over his textured, raven hair, and readying to pull him back down to you, eager to drink more of him in. To feel more of his skin against yours. However; you are cruelly interrupted by a harsh sequence of beeps, indicating that the door is finally unlocked. Finn briefly twists his head over his shoulder, confirming with a look.

“Power’s back on- we can get out of here now,” you say breathily from under him.

“Nah,” he says, with a subtle smirk and a shake of his head, apparently not wanting to move anywhere that would shift his warm body from on top of yours. “I think we should stay here a little longer, how about you?”

“Fine by me, Finn,” you agree quickly, beaming back at him, like the moon reflecting sunlight, basking in his warm glow.

His eyes narrow for a moment, searching yours, and he rolls you both on to your sides, your thigh coming to land over him, and his warm hand begins to stroke you there, as his sweet, languid kisses continue to find you in succession, his breaths coming more quickly, his need unravelling. “Is this okay?” he asks, pausing momentarily to skim his thumb over your cheek and down under your chin. “How are you feeling?”

While Finn seems relatively calm and sure right now, you are suddenly feeling like jelly. “Shaking. Nervous,” you admit, your words trembling out of you.

He nods a little, like he could tell. Maybe he could feel you tremble against him, or maybe it’s deeper than that. Maybe it’s the Force. You certainly feel like something deep and powerful is eddying between you.

“It’s okay,” Finn promises softly, his voice breath, and planting a small kiss to the tip of your nose. “If you want to keep going, I’ll be here to hold you.”

Your eyes shine with happy tears, and this time, when you drag him enthusiastically to your lips, your legs wrapping more tightly around him, you know that you need not be nervous at all. It has always felt right whenever he reached for you, ever since the beginning; and now is no exception. It is so much more than him holding you physically – you feel safe in his arms in every way you could.

You had missed him so deeply, not only because you have a huge crush on him right back, but also because he is your friend. And while he may not have been your first? He is certainly your best.

Finn is your sunshine, and you are endlessly pleased to have him back; to see him shining.

#finn star wars #finn x reader #john boyega #finn (star wars) x reader #star wars imagine

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

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deck the halls

Hi everyone, Merry Christmas if you’re celebrating! Here’s nothing but straight fluff for Petey, hope you all like it! Major props to @hockeyboysiguess for not only getting me to simp for him but also being so wonderful when I’ve needed someone to encourage me to finish, and for everyone else who’s let me bounce ideas off of them or yelled at me in my inbox to get it done. As always, please let me know what you think of it, I love hearing feedback - comments, reblogs (I always read the tags) and inboxes are so so welcomed!

word count: 3.9k+

You could tell something was wrong the minute that you walked through the door, into the living room of your boyfriend’s apartment. It was the first week of December, a time when most houses in the city — and the city itself, for that matter — decked the halls with tinsel, baubles, and cut-out paper snowflakes. You were no exception; really, your love for the season exceeded even the gaudy holiday displays in the windows of department stores, trying to entice passers-by to buy into their “annual-sale-that’s-not-even-a-sale-because-prices-are-so-inflated-anyways” sale. You lived and breathed Christmas as soon as it hit December 1st. Poorly but lovingly-decorated sugar cookies were delivered to your friends and neighbors, tinsel and ornaments hung from every surface imaginable in your apartment, Michael Bublé blasted 24/7. So, aside from those who didn’t celebrate, you expected everyone else to act accordingly. And if their version of Christmas didn’t include pounds of icing and a metric fuckton of ornaments, well then that just wouldn’t do.

So when you crossed the threshold into Elias’ living room, entirely bare and devoid of anything even remotely resembling Christmas cheer, you were more than a little shocked. You supposed you hadn’t quite been paying attention much last year, your first Christmas as a couple five or so months after you had gotten together. Probably still stuck in the honeymoon phase, you thought with a grin. Though, to be fair, you really still were in the honeymoon phase with Elias, after nearly a year and a half of dating. Which wasn’t to say you didn’t have your disagreements; you weren’t a perfect couple, of course you didn’t always see eye to eye on everything and got annoyed with each other on more than one occasion, but that same sense of wonder and unfeigned giddiness that came with a new relationship hadn’t left yet. And honestly, you weren’t sure it ever would. You certainly didn’t want it to. So when you looked in his living room and didn’t see any lights hanging, no tacky-but-heartwarming wreath of Christmas cards, no tree, you didn’t react with anything but sheer disbelief. You looked to the kitchen, but there was nothing. Dining room? Not a roll of wrapping paper to be found, no piney scent wafting through the air from some Glade plug-in you got on sale because the smell from the tree alone just wasn’t cutting it. How could someone live like this?

Elias walked into the room, his hair still damp from a post-practice shower, and flashed a smile at you, kissing you briefly before pulling back and looking at the dumbfounded expression still plastered on your face. “Everything okay?” he said, waving his hand in front of your eyes. “Did they mess up the order or something?” Oh, right, order. You had almost forgotten about the food in your hand, the entire reason you were coming over to his apartment in the first place. Lunch.

You quickly shook your head. “No, everything was fine. Your Pad Kee Mao, my green curry.”

He took the bag from you, placing it on the counter as he opened the cabinets and took out two plates. “You sure nothing’s up? You look like you saw a ghost.”

You gestured around the apartment. “There’s...nothing here?”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean there’s nothing here?”

“No decorations,” you explained. “No lights, no ornaments, no tinsel, no tree? It’s like you didn’t even know it’s Christmas, Elias.”

Elias rolled his eyes. “I forgot about your Christmas obsession.”

“Obsession?” you asked, one eyebrow perched in question.

“Love for Christmas?” Elias tried.

“Better.”

He shrugged. “I have a couple things in the closet, I’ll probably pull them out soon. There’s a string of lights, a little stuffed Santa Brock gave me last year, a tree that’s about this tall,” he gestured at his waist. “Christmas is a thing back home, obviously, but it’s not as...hyped up? Emphasized? As it is here.”

“Such are the pitfalls of capitalism,” you mused.

Elias nodded, digging through the drawers for forks. “And plus, we’ve got Saint Lucia’s Day, so that’s definitely where the more Swedish-specific traditions come out.”

You let out a groan. “I can’t get over the fact that you have a fake tree. It physically pains me.”

“It’s much more practical,” Elias said, trying to justify himself. “You don’t have to water it, it’s not going to drop needles, saves you money in the long run.”

Your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head. “Seriously? You sound like a grandpa, Lias. And it’s not like you’re exactly hurting for money.” You suddenly looked at Elias, your eyes so laser-focused that it startled him for a moment. “I’m going to make you love Christmas.”

He sputtered. “It’s not that I don’t like Christmas, I just have never much been into all of the extra stuff that goes along with it.”

“I won’t allow it,” you said, shaking your head. “Eat your Thai, we’re going to a tree lot.”

The tree

Thirty minutes later, you pulled into a tree lot in South Vancouver. You put the car into park, looking over at Elias. “I take my tree shopping very seriously, as you’re about to see. They’ve usually got some kind of chart or whatever at the front to show you the different kinds of trees you can get—“

Elias cut you off. “I’m going to stop you there. Different kinds? There’s not just, I don’t know, the generic Christmas trees, what are they...firs or whatever?”

You huffed, blowing a piece of hair that had escaped from under your Canucks beanie, one of the first gifts Elias had given to you when you had started dating. “Well, of course there are. But there’s noble firs versus douglas firs, versus blue spruces, versus white firs, versus white spruces, so if you don’t know what you’re looking for it can actually be pretty overwhelming.”

“I can see that,” Elias said dryly. “So what’s the difference between them?”

“Size and color, mostly,” you replied, “but also things like the shape of the branches, how much weight they can hold, even what they smell like. This place has a ton of different ones, so we can walk around and you can figure out what you like.”

Elias lasted about ten minutes before turning to you with a blank expression that caused you to break out in raucous laughter. “I don’t know what I want. I thought I did, but there’s hundreds of trees here,” he gestured wildly, “and they’re all wrapped up, so you can’t even really see them, and all I know is that I want a Christmas tree that looks like a Christmas tree.”

You smiled at your boyfriend. “That’s not nothing, Lias. I think we’re actually getting somewhere. So you want a more classic look, big and fluffy?” He nodded. “Okay, then we’re probably going to want to go with a noble fir or grand fir.”

“How did you learn all this?” Elias asked.

“Trial and error,” you said. “And as for the netting, I think I can fix that.” You pulled your Swiss army knife out of your pocket, wiggling it at him. “It’s the way my dad always taught me. You find one that looks good, give it a good rip and make sure it’s the right shape and that there’s not a crazy amount of space between the branches.”

“Because we wouldn’t want that.”

“You’re learning!” You said, laughing. “No, we wouldn’t. Because even if you’ve got a lot of ornaments, it can still look weird and throw off the whole vibe you’re going for.”

Elias ran his hands against the branches of one of the trees. “I don’t have that many ornaments. Some, yeah, but not a lot.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, squeezing his hand. “Lord knows I’ve got enough, we can stop by my place on our way back and grab what I’ve got left over.”

He dipped his head in agreement. “Sounds good.”

---

Three hours later and you were standing on a chair in Elias’ living room, tongue sticking out of your mouth in concentration as you tried to fix the star to the top of the tree. Elias’ hands were wrapped gently around your waist, looking nervously up at you. “You sure you don’t want me to get it?” he asked.

You shook your head, pumping your fist when you finally got it balanced on top, hopping down to the floor. “I’m good!” Elias had a few ornaments from team parties and events — nearly all of them branded with some form of the Canucks logo — and a handful from back home, the same popsicle stick, glue, and tempera paint creations that dotted your own preschool memories. You had picked up lights from your apartment, plugged them into the wall, figured out half of the bulbs were dead, fixed them, and then finally draped them across the tree branches, hanging a box of your own ornaments alongside your boyfriend’s.

Elias slipped one arm around your hips, pulling you into his side as the two of you stood back and admired your handiwork. “I like this,” he murmured.

“The tree actually did turn out pretty great,” you agreed.

“You sound like you had so little faith in us,” Elias said, a smile on his face. “The tree does look great, but I was thinking about this. Us, being together, decorating a Christmas tree. Starting traditions. It feels right.”

You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder, turning to kiss his neck. “It does.”

The baking

Christmas didn’t stop at a tree for you. Oh no, not even close. Elias’ tree was decorated, his living room and entryway hung with tasteful amounts of tinsel and only slightly cheesy wall hangings — he particularly liked the ‘Eat, Drink, and Be Merry’ — that you had dragged him out to the nearest Canadian Tire for. It was all nice to admire, but for you, the real fun started when you fired up the oven and flipped on the stand mixer.

Elias had been gone for a few days on a brief road trip through California, and you had gladly taken up that time to stock up on any and all possible ingredients you’d need for your annual Christmas baking haul. Elias had a nicer mixer than you did, and his oven had an extra shelf, so with his blessing you had all but set up shop in his kitchen. A good chunk of your time outside of work had been spent running out to Sobey’s, driving back to Elias’ apartment, realizing you’d forgotten something, and having to do it all over again.

But you loved it, you really did, even when his counters were covered in bags of flour, tubes of icing, and three types of sugar, and his fridge had somewhere north of five pounds of butter. You heard Elias’ key in the front door; it swung open and you heard the familiar thump of his duffel against the hardwood floor. “I’m hoooome,” he called out.

You let out a quick giggle, walking around the kitchen to greet him in the entryway. “Welcome back, babe. How was the trip?”

He shrugged, raising an eyebrow at the outfit you had on; you had put on your trusted old apron, the floral print slightly faded over the years and with more than one stubborn vanilla stain that just didn’t want to come out, but you loved it all the same. “I mean, you saw it. Two wins, one loss. Could have done better, I really don’t think we should have dropped that game against the Kings, but it happens. You started yet?”

“Just about to,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’d love an assistant if you’ve got the time.”

“For you?” Elias said, kissing the top of your head, “Always.”

Elias creamed the butters and sugar while you sifted the flour, turning around to grab the eggs. You handed two to him. “This seems like a lot of sugar,” Elias noted, peering into the mixing bowl.

You shrugged. “It’s a double recipe. There’s got to be enough for us, plus the team — I’ll cry if they don’t eat them, so I’m not against you threatening bodily harm if that’s what it comes to — plus some extra for me to take into work this week. So,” you picked up the bottle of vanilla extract, “lots of cookies.”

It wasn’t just cookies, though; you made somewhere north of 60 sugar cookies, but Elias was once again dumbfounded as you heaved a cardboard box out of one of the many bags you had picked up earlier in the week. “What’s that one?” You spun the box around so he could read the label. “Gingerbread house? Isn’t that mostly for little kids?”

You gasped in mock offense. “I can’t believe you would dare say such a thing, Elias. But yes, typically it is a kid thing. I love it, though. I’ve done one every year ever since I can remember, and they’re so much fun. Genuinely.” You tried, for one year and one year only, to make your own gingerbread; but, as much as you genuinely loved baking, it turned out to be nothing short of a spectacular mess. It wasn’t the Great British Bake Off, as you kept trying to remind yourself when the gingerbread puffed up too much and got too soft while simultaneously burning on the edges, but you had nonetheless been a little deflated as you ran to the grocery store to get a box kit. You tried to look on the bright side, though. One less thing to go wrong in the litany of the day’s bad possibilities. So, you no longer felt guilty about going out to the shop to get a build-your-own box. And besides, putting the house together and decorating it truly was 90% of the fun of the whole thing.

Elias held his hands up in surrender. “Didn’t mean to make you upset,” he said with a smile. “I do what the chef tells me.”

You pushed his hair back with one hand, the other handing him a tube of royal icing. “You, my love, have the honor of making sure this house doesn’t fall down.”

“I think I can do that,” he replied easily.

You really should have had more faith in your boyfriend, you thought as you looked at the completed gingerbread house. He had put just the right amount of icing on; not so little that the walls would simply fall down, but not so much that it would take forever to dry and still be too precarious to decorate. And decorate you did, mini M&Ms lining the roof to double as Christmas lights, a tree piped next to the front door, frosting and shredded coconut snow on the roof and floor. You stepped back to look at the finished product, curling into Elias’ side as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “We did pretty good, didn’t we?” you asked.

“We did.”

The morning

There were many reasons you were grateful that the NHL didn’t operate like other major league sports, with games on Christmas day. It gave a much-needed break after the incredibly fast-paced nature of the first few months of the season. It also gave some time to gain a sense of normalcy for the players and their families; as normal as it could be, you supposed. They could do the same last-minute shopping as other families did, set out milk and cookies with their kids on Christmas Eve. They could attend a service on Christmas Day, invite family over to spend the holiday — as Elias had done the year prior, with his parents flying in from Sweden — or sleep in the morning of. The latter of which you and Elias chose, his bare chest pressed up against your back as you lay in his bed, a well-worn Tre Kronor jersey draped across your body. You twisted over to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Guess what today is?” you asked cheekily. You knew he knew, it wasn’t as if you hadn’t spent the entire month counting down the days and making damn sure he was as informed as you were.

Elias let out a light laugh. “Merry Christmas, baby.” He threw back the sheets. “I’m going to go and get the coffee started, take your time.”

It was Christmas, though, and you were you. You weren’t about to take your time when it was December 25th. You made the bed somewhat haphazardly, padding out to the kitchen to wrap your arms around Elias’ waist as he set the coffee maker to brew. It didn’t take long, and you had just enough time to turn on the Christmas music and carefully curate the morning’s playlist before he was walking out to the living room, holding two steaming mugs of coffee. “Thanks, ‘Lias,” you said, taking your cup as the two of you sat on the floor with your stockings. “Dig in,” you said, gesturing to his while blowing on your coffee to cool it down. “No use waiting.”

He shook his head at you, the edges of his mouth curled in a smile that let you know that no matter how much good-natured ribbing he gave you about your love for the morning and, honestly, for all things Christmas and wintery, he loved that you had let him into a part of your life that you were so excited to share. You had taken a trip to the Swedish candy shop that Elias loved so much, the place was a little out of the way but you’d do anything to give the man you loved a little taste of home for the holidays. Elias laughed when he turned his stocking upside town and tipped it out, the sweets mixed in with some new stick tape and wax he had been mentioning he was running low on. “The team’s got some spare stuff, but I like it a certain way,” he had said earlier in the month, and with a little digging and a call to Brock, you had figured exactly which hole-in-the-wall hockey supply store to drive out to for his favorite kind, the only brand that would do for Elias Pettersson.

He had filled your stocking with your favorite kind of candy and a few boxes of film for your Polaroid. You laughed when a box of chapstick fell on top of the candy. “You’re always losing them,” Elias said, a poorly concealed grin on his face, “or leaving them somewhere, so I figured more couldn’t hurt.”

You could barely stop laughing. “It’s perfect,” you said in between giggles. “Seriously, though. I can never have too many, and it’s sweet that you noticed that.”

Like any kid, you had always loved getting to open presents on Christmas, and as you had gotten older, you’d learned to enjoy the experience of shopping for other people. But you and Elias had agreed that you didn’t want to make Christmas an incredibly elaborate or expensive affair; the more you had to buy, the more you had to stress over what to choose, the less you would enjoy the holiday itself. So Elias gifted you a book you’d been eyeing, then you gave him a leatherbound journal and a pen. You unwrapped some nice lotion and candles, handing him a navy blue wool scarf. Elias had recently gotten into puzzles — you’re not sure who introduced him, but you had a sneaking suspicion it was Brock — so you got him a 1000 piece puzzle of the snow capped mountains of Banff. “Figured it’d keep you busy for a while,” you said. He squeezed your hand in appreciation. You opened up your last present, sliding out a pair of tickets from an envelope. Two concert tickets to someone you’d been dying to see for years, but you’d never been able to snatch up in time. “How’d you pull this one off?” you asked, delicately holding the tickets in your hand, the envelope they came in long forgotten on the floor.

“I tried to get them online when they went on sale last month like everyone else, I stayed on my laptop for something like an hour but nothing showed up. So then it was plan B. I called someone who called someone who knows someone at Rogers, told them the situation and that I wanted to surprise my girlfriend, and they made it work. I try not to name drop too often, but if it’s for you, I’ll do it,” he explained.

You leaned over and kissed him, your hand resting against his jaw. “Thank you, babe. You really didn’t have to, but...It’s going to be amazing. We’re going to have so much fun.”

“You better,” he replied, reaching around the tree to pull out a tiny box from between the branches, one so small you wouldn’t have noticed it if you didn’t know there was something to be looking for. Your heart nearly stopped, and you looked up towards Elias with an expression that was equal parts overwhelmed, panicked, and nervous. “I’m not proposing,” he said quickly. “It’s not a ring.”

You let out a breath of relief. “Oh my God, good.” Now it was your turn to backtrack. “I wouldn’t have been upset if you were proposing, we know we both want that in the future, but it would have caught me a little off-guard.”

Elias nodded. “And I get that. I definitely don’t want to be giving you a heart attack when I’m trying to ask you to marry me.”

“That wouldn’t be good.”

“It wouldn’t. I’d definitely rather have an alive fiancée than a dead one. But,” Elias said, turning over the box in his hands, “I’ve thought a lot about this too, and I’m as sure of this decision as I am that I’m going to propose to you one day.” He finally handed it over to you, gesturing for you to open it. “It’s been nearly a year and a half since we’ve been together, so I figured it’s about time — past time, really — that we make it official, have you bring over the two pairs of pants or whatever that aren’t already on your side of the drawer, stop having to drive the twenty minutes home at midnight after we fall asleep together during a movie marathon. About time we move in together.”

You let out a soft gasp, holding the silver key delicately in your hands, in between two fingers as if it might shatter into a million pieces if you dared grip it any tighter. “And you’re sure about this, ‘Lias? I’d love to, but only if you’re sure too. I don’t want you to feel backed into a corner about anything just because it’s what everyone else is doing, or seems like the ‘next step’ for us as a couple, or —”

Elias cut you off with a kiss, closing your hand over the key. “I’m positive. And I’m not doing this for anyone else other than us.”

Even though you were sitting on the living room floor, you spoke your next words as if you were breathless. “When can we start?”

“We can start whenever you want, baby. The sooner the better,” he answered.

Your eyes met his. “One more question,” you asked. He nodded. “Did I do it? Did I make you love Christmas?”

“Mission accomplished, baby.”

#elias pettersson #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #hockey imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey writing #nhl imagines #nhl writing #nhl fanfic

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

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Title: Kismet {8}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot, Tiny Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Dialogue Heavy, POV Changes, Small Time Jumps

Words: 6.6k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘

As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

-Henry-

The minute he woke the next day and the alcohol had worn off; he instantly regretted his actions. His head was pounding and his nose stuffy, which was always what the morning after a drinking fest looked and felt like for him. the pain in his head made him painfully aware of everything he’d said to you. More than half of him wished he would have just held his peace and moved on, but the other side of him—the stubborn bull side felt nothing but satisfaction from what he’d done. It was time, especially seeing that you completely had the wrong idea about who he was and his character. He couldn’t help but wonder what you thought about your conversation, but instead of dwelling on it, he decided to push it to the side and do the logical thing. Move on.

It was now five days since that conversation, and though it felt strange the first couple of days to not send you a message when you ran across his mind, he did it and adapted. He now was throwing himself into work because there wasn’t a shortage of it. Most days, he was in pre-production for Witcher two, and that in itself was a lot of work. Production decided to kick fight choreography up a notch because last season wasn’t badass enough. The choreography this season was definitely taking it up several notches, and it meant more long hours of training and even more potential for him to be hurt.

By week two post convo, he was steadily counting down to his vacation time. Training was kicking his ass, and the more and more days that passed, the more he thought of you. That wasn’t all though, the more the way he thought of you changed. In the beginning, he thought he was infatuated or possibly obsessed. When he was around you, he always felt as if he wasn’t in control. He felt like there were forces that were controlling your interactions and pulling a starry blanket over his feelings. He expected this time away to act as a purge, but it hadn’t, not in the way he’d anticipated.

“Come on, her name is Becca, and she’s super cute,” Alisha said.

“Why is it that all my brother’s wives want to set me up?”

“Because we care. You’re too great of a guy to be alone,” Halley complimented.

They all nodded, and his eldest brother painfully squeezed his cheek.

“Plus, look at this face,” Nik teased, making all of them elate.

It had been like this since they were kids. Nothing had changed.

“I’m perfectly fine being alone,” he answered.

“Doesn’t mean you should be,” Amee piped out.

No matter what, he said it wouldn’t be good enough until he gave them what they wanted. He had no intention of doing it, though. He wasn’t sure if it was really his loathing of being set up or because he didn’t want to pretend to want anyone else. Whatever it was, it had him declining to their annoyance. He could stick it out for the next two weeks until he got out of London.

-Aliya-

“You fucked up, plain and simple,” Amaya blurted out as she flipped through a magazine.

You rolled your eyes and tried to continue writing notes to the song you’d just wrote. As sure as you were that it was pitch black outside, you knew she wasn’t done—not by a long shot. A minute passed in silence, but as projected, Amaya began again.

“Just explain to me why you don’t want to be happy.” Amaya tossed the magazine aside, giving you her full attention. Still, you ignored her and kept your eyes glued to the note pad.

“Liya, come on. At some point in your life, you’re going to have to be honest with yourself.”

She was right. For the last few weeks, you’d spent a lot of sleepless nights doing just that. Since Henry’s call, you’d been forced to look at your situation in a light you’d ignored. It wasn’t that you were doing it maliciously. It was just easier and neater to see the worst in every situation hence the worst in people. You’d been the girl who dug deep for the best in people and only focused on that and their potential for too long. It made more sense from a survivalist standpoint to be different.

You’d went back and forth and round and round your situation, and perhaps you were too quick to jump to conclusions. The bottom line was the things he said had affected you, more than you liked and more than you could ignore. A few days after his call, you saw his picture in The Sun. He wasn’t alone. It looked like he’d had a long night of partying. You deduced it was probably the same night he called you. Though he was obviously drunk, he still looked so damn good. In the last few weeks, you’d thought about him a lot. On several occasions, you’d taken up your phone for the sole purpose to stalk his Instagram or even scroll through your gallery to gawk at his pictures. Never though, did you attempt to call.

The main reason was that you hated being the one in the wrong. You hated feeling like the asshole and what was worse was that you also hated apologizing. So, you bit your tongue, pushed your thoughts and emotions aside, and just hoped time would make it all fade. It didn’t.

“Aliya!”

Closing your notepad, you stood. “We’re going to miss the flight.”

“Whatever! It’s a private jet. It’s your private jet.”

You were already out of the room, which meant thankfully, you didn’t have to see her face. The drive to the private airfield was about forty-five minutes. For the entire ride, you could feel Amaya’s annoyance with you. she didn’t say one word. Instead, she kept her nose buried in her phone scrolling her life away. It was okay with you; you had plenty of work to do. Plus, you knew this wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

Sure enough, twenty minutes into the flight to London, she was back at it. The difference between Amaya and Alicia was simple. Where Alicia liked to leave me be until she knew the perfect time to go in because she knew the perfect time would come when you would be more receptive to it, Amaya preferred to go in all the time. She was always on one hundred. You loved both your best friends dearly, and they both spoke to different sides of you, but sometimes you wished they were wrong a lot more often than they were right.

When you got pulled into a phone meeting, you were grateful and even more so when it lasted for almost two hours. By the time you ended the call, Amaya was napping. Though you thought the silence was what you wanted, it was a blessing in disguise. It meant you now had peace and quiet to think, and your thoughts more often than not went right to Henry.

When you landed in London and checked into the hotel, it was after midnight. Once you’d taken a shower and answered a few emails, you popped two sleep aids in hopes they would knock you out because you needed all your energy tomorrow.

-The Next Day-

Hectic was an understatement for how your morning and afternoon had been going. One of the great things about being you was that when you got bored with one career avenue, you had three more to distract yourself with. For the last several months, you’d been focusing on your acting career and had been able to complete two films and three guest appearances. In between acting gigs you were also able to do a few modeling events, including Fall and Spring fashion week.

What had fallen to the wayside was your singing career. It was almost time for you to fulfill your contractual obligations by releasing another album. You’d been focusing on writing new material for the last few weeks, and tonight you were putting on one of the last stops on a mini-tour your team had planned months ago. The travel alone was killing you. You were exhausted, even more than usual. With every show, you felt your body telling you it would soon be time to slow down or stop for a few months. You needed a break.

“I should have flown in days ago. I hate feeling like this isn’t perfect.”

“Aliya, it’s fine,” Alicia countered.

The perfectionist in you didn’t believe her.

“I promise. I wouldn’t lie to you. You have to go anyway. The show is supposed to start at six; it’s already three.”

She was right. Though you hated it, you would have to cross your fingers and hope things looked cohesive. After finishing up the last-minute wardrobe adjustments and a quick pep talk with your dancers, you made your way back to the hotel to get in a little bit of pampering before having to get back to the center for prep.

As you laid on the table and enjoyed your deep tissue massage, you allowed the worries to float away. There was nothing you could do about it now anyway. You were also sure it was perfectly fine, and just your obsessive nature taking over. Tuning everything out, you focused on your meditative breathing. Before you knew it, it was time to get back to the center to get into wardrobe and put on a show worthy of the hundreds that were spent on tickets. You were determined to perform your ass off.

-Henry-

He couldn’t have gotten out of tonight no matter what. He’d tried. When Charlie announced to everyone that Heather had made plans for their adults' date night, he rolled his eyes. Now that he thought of it, it was around the time that Amee tried to set him up with that woman. This was supposed to be a blind date, and since he’d declined, he was here alone while all his other brothers were snuggling up and whispering to their significant others.

Here he was an hour and ten minutes into your show, and he’d never had more fluctuating thoughts and feelings. At first, it was surprise; then annoyance, then it transitioned into awe until it moved to arousal and admiration. Now he was stewing deep in all of them, and it was not a good look. Your voice was incredible. He’d always known how talented you were. Your stamina to dance and sing blew his mind. Then when he watched those dance moves closer, it was impossible to keep his thoughts pure. It also didn’t help that the outfits you were wearing only fueled his imagination more.

“What’s wrong with you? You said you liked Aliya Taylor,” Amee shouted over the music.

Plastering a smile on his face, he nodded. “Yeah, she’s great. I’m tired.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

When you came out for the final song in a flowing low cut white gown and barefoot, he staggered backward when he envisioned you walking down a flower aisle.

“Fucking hell!”

All eyes snapped to him, and the curious looks on their faces only had him needing air even more.

“I—I’m gonna get a head start to the cars.”

Not waiting for a response, he turned and walked through the crowd, not daring to look back at you.

-Aliya-

Amaya and Alicia laughed together at something on Amaya’s timeline. No doubt it was some picture of one of her boy toys. You sipped from your flower decorated porcelain teacup while staring out over London to the Eye. Just behind it, Big Ben stood tall and proud as it chimes for four o’clock echoed through the city. This was a city you’d spent a lot of time in thanks to your grandparents on your father’s side. Not as much time as they’d like, but there was only so much free time you had. Big Ben and the Eye were two of your favorite things about London.

You should have been on cloud nine after another successful show and checking another thing off your extensive to-do list, but you weren’t. You felt almost as gloomy as the rolling clouds in the sky that threatened rain.

“You seem depressed.”

Alicia’s voice had you turning back to them you softly smiled. “I’m not.”

“You look it,” Amaya slid home.

Rolling your eyes, you finished your cup of tea and gently placed it on its matching saucer with a shrug. “I don’t know what to tell you then.”

Amaya then gasped with a smile in her eyes. “I know what it is. You’re finally missing your grade A prime beef of a man.”

Snorting, you shook your head. “Oh god. Try again.”

“You might be right, Mya,” Leece started placed her elbows on the table to peer at you closer. “This all started the night we had dinner with him. What’s his name again?” Both of them pretended to wrack their brains to remember his name, but they knew damn well what it was.

“Ah, Henry,” Amaya cooed, making you roll your eyes even harder.

“Both of you stop. You’re not funny.”

“We approve.”

“I second that,” Alicia added.

“What? Really?”

“Are you kidding? Yeah. Not only is he gorgeous, like drop dead gorgeous, but he is also super nice. Throughout dinner he was very courteous and sincere. You know I’m a good people reader,” Amaya attested.

“He’s funny, and he seemed to be genuine with his efforts to get to know Mya and me. He also was putting in effort into proving something to you.”

Sighing, you took a few sips of your water.

“Honestly, I couldn’t find anything wrong with him.”

“Really? Perfection?”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Yes, you’d suspected they liked him, but the perfect word was just uttered. It was never spoken of, not by them.

“Pretty much,” Amaya doubled down.

“Wow.”

“Tell me about it. Move on that before some other chick does. He will not be single for long,” Amaya added.

For some reason, this was the first time you’d thought about that, and you couldn’t believe it. She was right. He was gorgeous, among other things, and women already fawned over him. He wouldn’t be licking his wounds much longer. A knot formed in your gut, and a sour taste in your mouth followed. Glancing away from their penetrative gazes, you looked around the restaurant and nearly dropped the water glass when you saw Henry across the restaurant laughing. This was the first time you’d seen him in person since your breakfast in New York weeks and weeks ago, and he looked great.

Your eyes drank him up, taking their time soaking up every detail of his face, the slight stubble that decorated his chiseled jaw, his perfectly imperfect smile, his hair that fell slightly longer than you remembered. When he spoke again, you watched his mouth move and quickly got lost. You didn’t have to hear his words. You knew how he spoke them. You knew the effect his voice had. At the thought of that effect, you peeled your eyes away and tried to keep them on either Alicia, Amaya, or the table. Of course, it was impossible. Your eyes continuously found him, and it was on him they remained until you forced yourself to look away.

“What do you keep looking at?”

Amaya glanced around the restaurant. You knew she’d found him because when she turned to face you again, her smile was as wide as a thief's.

“Oh ho ho, looks like fate is on mine and Leece’s side.”

“Stop. Be cool, act natural. Don’t make a scene,” you pleaded.

“Look at that, same place, same time, just mere feet away.”

From the tone of her voice, you knew she was tempted to fuck with you.

“Stop, Amaya. Don’t.”

“Why?”

Trying to keep your voice down and the panic from your face, you pleaded again. “Just don’t.”

Amaya studied you for a few moments before she nodded in defeat. Relief flooded you. Though you tried, you couldn’t get your head back onto lunch and off of him no matter how you tried. The three of you left shortly after passing his table on the way out.

Thanks to a little free time, you, Amaya, and Alicia were able to soak up some shopping in London and before getting back to the hotel for a quick change, then dinner. Even though you tried to stop thinking about Henry’s face earlier, you weren’t the least bit successful, but you played it off like everything was cool. You didn’t know if you fooled either of them, but you really didn’t care. You were so ready to get the hell out of London.

-That Night-

Big Ben’s chime for one in the morning ringing out all around you. It was yet another night of sleeplessness. From your seat at the window, you could feel the nice breeze. It still smelled like rain, but for whatever reason, the rain was staying away. Finishing your glass of wine, you sighed out and nearly leaped out your skin when your phone rang in the quiet room.

“Hello?”

“What’s wrong?”

You smiled from the unexpected sound of your gramaw’s voice. It was like the concrete gate you had around your heart that was constricting it to the point where it was challenging to breathe loosened.

Sighing, you leaned back, reclining against the surface.

“I think I fell in love,” you whispered.

“In love?”

Hearing the words said back to you made you close your eyes and shake your head.

“Yeah, at least I think that’s what I’m feeling. I can’t sleep well, not that I could before. I feel a little depressed, and I can’t pinpoint why, but when I think about it, I feel this way when I think about him. Not to mention, I think about him all the time. Christ, I even dream about him.”

Pausing, you glanced at your phone to find his picture there. It was the last thing you’d been looking at before tossing your phone away.

“I truly feel like I did something wrong, like I was wrong,” you confessed.

“Have you talked to him?”

Hitting your head back, you groaned. “Not since he called me and told me I’m missing out on him and gave me all the reasons why I should realizing I’m missing out.”

You couldn't help but smile at his words as you remembered them.

“Do you feel like you’re missing out?”

Your Gramaw always knew the right questions to ask. She was one of the few that did, one of the few that you’d even listen to. Bowing your head, you sighed again.

“Maybe. Normally I’m sure about someone and sure that I don’t need or want them in my life, but with him—I have doubts with my snap judgment.”

“Oh no, snap judgments are never a good thing, Aliya.”

You groaned hearing the disappointment in her voice. “I know, jeez do I know.”

“What do you feel like doing?”

You scoffed, if you knew that you wouldn’t be going through this struggle.

“I’ll be to you in a few days. I’ll see you soon.”

“Your heart, Aliya, not your head,” she cautioned before you ended the call.

For the next thirty or so minutes, you paced the balcony of your room as you debated with yourself over what you were going to do. After psyching yourself up as much as you could, you bit the bullet dialing Henry’s number before you talked yourself out of it. After one ring, you almost hung up but forced yourself to stick through the terror running through you. Two rings passed, then three. At the fourth you began to lower your hand to end the call and then his voice echoed through the speaker.

“Hello?”

You froze drawing a blank and forgetting for a moment you had a voice.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” you whispered.

The rustling on his end was loud but brief.

“Aliya?”

Swallowing the lump, you took a deep breath. “Yeah. Hi.”

“It’s after one in the morning. Is everything all right? Are you hurt?”

Your heart lurched, and a soft smile spread across your lips. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m not hurt,” you assured.

He sighed, then yawned.

“I uh—I know it’s late or early. I know you, um, probably have something better to do than be up. I’m sorry if I woke you,” you half rushed and stuttered out.

“You’re rambling, Aliya.” You stopped your pacing then and slapped your forehead.

“Yes, I am. I do that when I’m nervous,” you blurted.

“Why are you nervous?”

Pausing, you gripped the rail on the balcony and used it to center yourself and get your nerves under control.

“Well, I’m about to ask the man I told I wouldn’t be with to meet me somewhere at nearly two in the morning. I’m—sending major mixed signals.”

Henry didn’t speak right away. Instead, he waited, making you chew your bottom lip as your anxiety increased.

“Why?”

“Wh—why? Why what?”

“Why should I?”

Stunned, your jaw dropped. “Oh, wow, out with the hard questions. Okay. Um—well—you should meet me because uh—it’s not often that I realize I was wrong or did something wrong and when I realize that, I like to say so.”

Again the silence over the phone stretched for long moments. After a full minute of it, your anxiety peaked.

“Still there?”

Henry sighed. “I’m here. I’m thinking.”

His voice sounded so deliciously deep. Either you had woken him, and this was his sleepy voice, or he was purposely giving you that sexy baritone.

“By all means. Think as long as you need to. Um—I’ll be at the eye until 2:30. I um—I hope you show. If you don’t, I understand, really I do and no hard feelings.”

Quickly you ended the call and panted as if you’d been running a marathon all in an effort to calm yourself down. It had been years since you’d put yourself through something like that, and you had a feeling it was only the beginning of you making amends.

Being Aliya Taylor afforded you some perks, and one was being able to have access to the eye well after closing. All it took was one call, well two to be exact, and voila, you were sitting in one of the cars anxiously waiting for Henry. You had no idea if he’d show, and the more and more time that passed with him not magically appearing, the more and more your brain worked overtime. The scenery helped a lot, but when you glanced at your watch and saw that it was almost 2:30, the scenery could do no more. Your nerves and anxiety had erupted like a volcano.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

Spinning, you saw Henry at the door still on the platform. You released a relieved sigh, realizing he hadn’t stood you up.

“Good thing I’m not—anymore.”

Henry stepped into the car and took a few steps to you but stopped when he was still a ways away.

“London after two is not safe,” Henry informed.

“I know.”

The doors closed, and the contraption began moving.

“How in the world did you get them to open this for you?”

Smiling, you shrugged. “I may know people in high places,” you replied, which made him smile.

“This is one of my favorite places in London,” you announced as you walked around the car, taking care not to get too close. You didn’t know if you could handle it right away, and you had to feel him out to see what his coming really meant.

“Why?”

“You can see all of greater London from here and out to the countryside if you really look once you’re up high.”

Henry also walked around the car, mirroring your intentions. Neither of you came close enough to touch one another.

“How often do you come to London?”

“A lot. I have some family here, plus I prefer the countryside.”

“So you have some British blood,” Henry inquired, half a question, half a statement.

“I had to. Only the Bris would dare think to send their daughters off to finishing school,” you quipped.

Henry’s laugh filled the car, making you smile widely. He walked to one of the many windows turning his back to you. Slowly you looked over his broad back, taking in every detail. Your fingers could still remember what the dance of his muscles felt like underneath them, and they itched to feel them dance again. Taking a deep breath, you fiddled your fingers.

“Uh--I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important by asking you here. Like I hope I didn’t impose on—anyone.”

You were fishing, it was obvious, and you felt no shame.

“Eh, who needs sleep anyway. I can sleep when I’m dead,” Henry replied with a shrug of those magnificent shoulders still keeping his back to you.

“Were um--were you uh—sleeping—alone?”

Your heart was pounding so loudly you could swear he could hear it. He didn’t speak or turn around. He just stood there torturing you. You wondered if he knew it was sheer torture what he was doing. Did he even care? The longer he remained quiet, the more you freaked out until you decided to backtrack all the way back.

“I’m sorry. Don’t answer that. It is absolutely none of my business. I don’t even know why I asked that,” you rushed out, rubbing your forehead from embarrassment before beginning to pace the car.

That was when Henry chose to turn around.

“I know a woman doesn’t say something she doesn’t mean, and usually when a woman asks a question, she wants to know the answer either to prove herself right or in hopes she’s wrong. What is it for you?”

His voice made you stop in the midst of pacing to watch his mouth as he spoke. There was something poetic about how he spoke, and it always distracted you. Nibbling your bottom lip, you thought about how to respond. You were already tired of the verbal Olympics and talking around each other.

Sighing, you rolled your eyes. “Henry--.”

“You know that’s the first time you’ve said my name without the word goodbye in front of it.”

That made you snap your mouth shut. Had it?

“That’s not true,” you protested.

“It actually is. I was beginning to think you like saying goodbye rather than hello.”

You took a step to him. “That’s not true. I like saying hello way more than goodbye,” you defended.

The neutral look on his face gave you no confidence to go on, so you rolled your eyes and continued to walk around the car. This would be harder than you expected, you thought.

“I was sleeping alone. I’ve slept alone for quite some time now,” he informed just as you were looking out of the window to the city.

“Look, Henry, I-,” you began again, but then henry cut you off.

“That day in New York those weeks ago, I should have plain and simply laid it out for you. I should have told you everything. I was with Francesca--.”

“Don’t, don’t, don’t. I honestly don’t want to know.”

“But you need to know. There is no way you can begin to trust me or begin to let yourself gravitate to me the way you’re entire being wants until you know,” Henry slid out. Pressing your palm to your abdomen, you tried to slow the butterflies that began flitting.

“I was with Francesca for about two years. The whole time I knew she wanted a family in life. She was always vocal about her wanting to get married young and have kids. I knew, but I never paid attention to it. I was away filming something for a while, and when I came home one weekend, I caught her with someone else.”

Your eyes widened, hearing his words.

“turns out she was beginning a relationship with someone else, someone who she thought would lead to marriage and kids,” Henry added. His voice held steady, but you could imagine the pain going through those memories again.

“I’m sorry.”

Henry shook his head, “It’s not necessary. After a few months of her trying to make amends, I thought we’d try again.” He scoffed then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m a hopeless romantic. After months of trying, I knew it wouldn’t work, but I kept a relationship of sorts with her.”

You understood. They were bed buddies.

“I then met Abby, and what started as a fling developed into something more. Long story short, I got wind of a rumor she was using me for fame and money, so I distanced myself from her. after some time of her telling I had it all wrong, I decided it was easier keeping her around though my heart wasn’t in it. I wasn’t juggling them. I hadn’t slept with either of them in a long time. I just—I felt it was better to have someone who misses me and wants me than living the lonely actor life.”

His honesty had you frozen. When he began to explain, you hadn’t expected him to reveal so much. You expected a bare minimum explanation, but what you’d gotten revealed so much more about him. You felt bad.

“I guess allowing the attentions and affections to remain is just as bad as juggling them. I was playing with their hearts. I’m not proud of it.”

Henry dipped his head, showing he felt some shame for his actions.

“When I met you, I realized although I had these two women sort of vying for me, I was still lonely, but those moments we were together, I didn’t feel alone. I felt--,” he paused as if trying to find the right word. His hesitation made you look down.

You knew what you’d felt.

“When I met you, I felt someone I’d never felt before, something I don’t fully understand. I don’t know what that means, but I know I want to find out—with you.”

Finally, able to release the breath you held, you took another, then cleared your throat. “I’m not juggling two guys. I was dating two guys, but not sleeping with both. I was with Liam first, and we had an okay relationship. We were busy, never saw each other and when we did it wasn’t for long. He um—he got annoyed and broke up with me. He said I was impacting his work, and he needed to focus.”

You remembered how he’d said it too. He’d said it like you were the one to blame for the roles he’d gotten or hadn’t gotten.

“I was fine with it, and during those five months apart, I met Jesse. We worked together and had fun and began dating. It wasn't anything sexual. Then Liam comes back and wants to pick up where we left off. I told him about Jesse, and he was fine with it.”

The shock on Henry’s face almost made you laugh. Alicia and Amaya were also surprised they’d chosen that unconventional path. Amaya, of course, thought you should have kept it secret from both of them.

“One day, Jesse sees Liam and me out, and it pissed him off enough to end things. Three weeks later, I lay it out for both that I don’t want to choose, and I don’t want anything serious. They were both fine with it, and so it went on. Six months later, I decided I needed to be on my own to focus on work and me. They didn’t like the decision. They call and text me to try to—rekindle something.”

Henry scoffed, and you watched a soft smile tickle his lips.

“I haven’t physically seen either of them in weeks, now maybe months,” you finished.

Henry was quiet for a few seconds before he snorted.

“They were mad.”

“Angry?”

“No, mad, bonkers,” Henry clarified.

“Oh, crazy.”

“Yeah. To be okay to share you, be willing to do something like that. I couldn’t do that,” Henry informed, making you smile in the process.

“Well, men do crazy things.”

“I can attest to that, but I’d never do something that crazy. I can’t share what’s mine. I won’t.”

Your eyes locked, and your body swayed toward his. It was like he was metal and you a magnet. Everything in you wanted to be close to him. The more you tried to fight the pull, the harder it became to breathe. The harder it was to breathe, the dizzier you became.

“I—I—I—I,” you began before gulping the knot in your throat down that was making you speak in a raspy whisper. “I don’t—know what this is.”

Henry nodded.

“I am not used to not knowing and being out of control,” you continued.

“You feel less controlled too?”

You couldn't help but to nod. Once you did, Henry took a step to you. You took a step back.

“Hold on. I like control. I like control a lot. Anything that threatens that control is not for me.”

Henry’s eyes lowered but only for a moment before he was looking right back into yours.

“But—I really want to find out why you make me less controlled,” you finally admitted.

The uncertainty on his face spoke volumes. “What does that mean? Where does that leave this—us?”

You chewed your bottom lip; you realized how ill-prepared you’d been.

“Honestly, I didn’t think this meeting out that far. I only planned up to when you showed up. I’ve um—I’ve been winging it this whole time.”

His smile started small but spread wide in seconds; then, he laughed loudly.

“So you won’t mind me making a plan?”

Oh lord, you thought, feeling his alpha pop out. You bit your bottom lip again.

“What kind of plan?”

Henry closed the remaining space between you. Every step he took had you shaking even more.

“A plan that I’ve envisioned every night since brunch.”

Stopped in front of you and held you captivated by his gaze and the sheer dominating energy rolling off of him. The way he stood there taller than you made your mouth run dry.

“Jesus, you’re freakishly short,” Henry teased in his perfect Englishman voice.

Smiling, you shook your head. “I know, I debated wearing heels but didn’t—I wanted you to see me normal for someone reason I don’t under--.”

Henry’s sudden movement cut you off. He dipped down the entire foot he overshadowed you and lifted you into the air to hold you flush against his body. Then he lowered his lips to yours, taking and keeping control of an intensely passionate kiss. A kiss you hadn’t known you craved until it began, a kiss you were not prepared for. You moaned against his lips, and that moan triggered his. Wrapping your arm around his neck, you clung to him, and every sensation you were feeling and even new ones he was awakening within you.

Slowly, Henry pulled his lips from your, but he kept your body to his. You kept your eyes closed, relishing the lingering effects.

“You’re shaking,” Henry whispered.

“So are you.”

You opened your eyes and gazed into his as he slowly lowered you back to your feet.

“What else is part of your plan?”

Henry's smile spread across his face. “For me to carry out any other part of my plan would be completely rakish of me.”

His smile was adorable, but still intimidatingly sexy.

“I take it you’re not a rake.”

“Not in the least.”

“All right. So, alternate plan?”

He smiled again. “Still pretty rakish.”

With that, he brought his lips back to yours, but this time he didn’t pull back for several long minutes.

Though you knew people in high places, it didn’t mean you could keep the eye open all morning. After three trips around, the two of you got off then walked around London holding hands and eating ice cream. It was such a weird sensation allowing someone to hold your hand. It had been a long time since you’d ever wanted to. The entire time you laughed and talked about everything and nothing at the same time. One thing was clear; neither of you was in any rush for your time together to end.

But end, it had to. When Henry walked you back to your hotel, it was almost time for the sun to come up.

“Home safe and sound,” Henry joked.

“Yes, thanks to Superman.”

“No, no, I’m just the man. Henry Cavill.”

He held his hand out to you. Smiling, you rolled your eyes.

“Now is when we get to this?”

His goofy smile and shrug had your head skip a beat.

“Aliya Taylor,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you. Mind if I call you Aliya or Liya, that's all a mouthful,” Henry teased.

Your laugh was loud, and you had to clamp your hand over your mouth, remembering what time it was.

“Yes, you can call me either. Can I call you Henners or Hank?”

“No. My friends call me that.”

“So, I’m not your friend?”

“If I have anything to say about it, which I do, then no. I don’t want you as a friend.” Henry replied, making you smile like a little girl at Christmas.

“Then what do you want me as?”

Your eyes lingered for a few seconds before Henry was pulling you closer to brush the back of his hand against your cheek.

“For now, I’ll settle for my girlfriend.”

The man was an expert at charm. You bit into your bottom lip and tried to stop smiling. “Girlfriend, wow. That’s a loaded title. What does it entail?”

“Well, for one, it entails being your true self with me, accepting my true self, being there for me when I need you, letting me be there for you when you need me or when I need you, allowing me to be your strength when you’re weak, your hope when you’re hopeless. Allowing me to grow with you, learn with you. Giving me your time and attention, enough of it so what we have can grow. Trusting me and letting me spoil you rotten.”

If he weren’t holding you against him, you would have fallen back.

“Is that all?”

Henry leaned closer kisses your cheek. “To begin.”

“And if I refused to be this girlfriend you speak of?”

“Then I’d just have to convince you,” Henry cooed.

“How?”

Right on que, Henry dipped his lips to yours. The second they touched, you moaned and held him close. Why resist when you could enjoy it, you thought. His tongue swirled with yours before he nibbled then sucked your bottom lip. When he pulled back, your eyes remained closed.

“I’m convinced.”

Henry pecked your lips once, then twice. “Good. Girlfriend.”

Your eyes locked again, and you forgot all common sense for what felt like an eternity.

“Eh-em—I have to be on a set in the morning.”

“Which is now,” Henry filled in.

Still hazed in the brain, you stuttered and smiled like a fool.

“Mm, did I stay out all night?”

“You did. I hope it was worth it.”

Smiling, you kissed his jaw. “We’ll see,” you whispered as you backed away from him, making your way to the door.

“Good morning, Henry.”

He smiled again, watching you disappear inside the hotel. As you walked to the elevator bank, you couldn’t stop smiling or stop the butterflies that had been flying all night in your stomach. As you stepped onto the elevator and watched the doors closed, you recognized the feeling you felt as happiness. It had been absent for a long time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#kismet fic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #slow burn fanfic

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the-lincyclopedia · 4 years

Photo

* adapted from @librajiminn on twitter

A fun game to celebrate 2020 ending! The rules are simple: recommend your favorite OMGCP fics so everyone can enjoy them, while trying to fill in enough slots to get a bingo!

This is going to get long, so I’ll put it under a cut. Also, I’m too orderly to try to shoehorn my favorite fics into these particular prompts, so I’m just going to go right to left, top to bottom, taking the prompts literally, until it’s bedtime.

1. first fic you bookmarked: “Here Comes the Sun” by @doggernaut, 19k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

For the past month, the man with the baby and the sad blue eyes has been stopping in for a cup of coffee an hour before closing. He always sits in an overstuffed chair in the corner and drinks his coffee while his baby sleeps next to him in the stroller. Sometimes he pulls a book out from the diaper bag he carries with him; other times he just stares straight ahead as if in a daze. He never asks for a refill, always respectfully gathers his things and leaves ten minutes before the shop officially closes. Eric desperately wants to ask him what his story is.

My notes: I read Check Please over the course of two days in June of 2019. On the second day, right after catching up, I looked at @peppermintfeminist‘s AO3 bookmarks and found a fic by @doggernaut. Then I read just about everything @doggernaut had ever posted. It was glorious. This fic in particular is so cute.

2. most recent fic you bookmarked: “Flight Check” by @edgarallanrose, 15k, E, no warnings (though there is a creepy/handsy guy at a club to watch out for), primarily Zimbits with most of the other popular pairings in the background

Flight attendant Eric “Bitty” Bittle has been working his way up at Samwell Airlines for the past four years, and his new promotion has provided him the opportunity to work with a brand-new crew. Unfortunately for Bitty, that crew includes an incredibly handsome but equally grumpy pilot, Captain Jack Zimmermann, who seems to want nothing to do with Bitty. Even worse, Jack refuses to eat any of Bitty's baked goods. Will Bitty be able to win the captain over? Or is there another reason Jack has been avoiding Bitty?

My notes: There are a lot of great things about this fic--Jack’s character arc, Lardo’s dialogue, that scene in Seattle--but the reason I bookmarked it is the scene where Bitty’s basically slut-shaming himself and Jack gently but firmly tells Bitty not to do that and that it was the creep’s fault.

3. a fic that made you cry actual tears: “a little bit more” by @ivecarvedawoodenheart, 14k, T, no warnings, Holsom

“I just wanted,” he says, “a perfect day. With you. Because it’s our last day together and our last day being here as undergrads and we’re kissing the ice tonight, and the weather’s supposed to be beautiful, and you’re moving tomorrow and Holtzy I just — I don’t want to be missing you already.” Holster wipes his eyes before he even realizes he’s crying. Behind him, Ransom sighs. “One more day where everything’s the same,” he says, feeling around blindly for Rans’ fingers. He feels Rans nod as he laces their fingers together. “Yeah. Yeah, Rans. I’d like that a lot.” __________________________

Holsom after graduation and throughout the subsequent six months after Holster signs to an expansion team in Oregon, and realizes his feelings for Ransom too late. Holster's POV :) kinda angsty, but there's a happy ending :)

Inspired by shitty-check-please-aus: "Holster moves to Oregon while Ransom stays on the east coast. The time difference makes it difficult to talk and one day they wake up and realize they aren’t best bros anymore."

My notes: I almost never cry at fics. I searched “tears” in my fandom email account and only a handful of my fic comments came up, but Syd is a literal master of Holsom angst, always.

4. longest fic you’ve read: “Like Real People Do” by @xiaq, 153k, M, No Warnings, Kent Parson x OC

Parson gestures with his spoon toward Hawke. “So am I allowed to ask about the service dog or is that not PC?”

“My medical history is more of a 3rd date conversation," Eli says.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because. No one sticks around afterward and I like to live in glorious denial for a short period beforehand.”

It comes out more self-deprecating than he intended.

Parson looks…thoughtful. “Well, does this count as one or two?

“Pardon?”

“This. Ice cream. I mean, technically it’s a second location, but still the same night. So is this one date or two?”

“One,” Eli says firmly. “If it’s happening within the same three-hour period.”

“You’re the expert,” Parson says, which, he’s really, really, not, but ok.

“So still two dates to go then?” Parson continues.

“I—what?”

“We’ve got a roadie coming up but then we’re home for almost two weeks. When does your semester start?”

“You want to do this again?” Eli asks.

Parson stops idly twirling his spoon.

“You don’t?”

He does, Eli realizes. He really does. Because apparently he actually likes Kent fucking Parson.

My notes: Okay, this fic has my whole entire heart. I’ve read it multiple times in its entirety, and it’s almost twice as long as the full-length novel I’m querying. Eli is one of my favorite OCs I’ve ever seen in a fic (probably tied with Damian Navarro and Ari Paxton, both brainchildren of @fozmeadows). Anyway, this is probably going to be the next thing @themeaningoflifeischeese and I read out loud to each other.

5. a fic you almost didn’t read: “when all else fails (i’ll still be right here)” by @whoacanada, 6k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (and I don’t remember if I think there’s stuff to warn for, sorry), Zimbits

The National Hockey League is resurrecting the Quebec City Nordiques, and the expansion draft hits the Falconers much harder than expected.

My notes: Given that this was for @omgcpheartbreakfest, I was worried this would be all angst--all hurt and no comfort. Which made me sad, because I love @whoacanada‘s writing but I wasn’t up for reading unresolved angst. But @doggernaut reblogged the fic, so I asked if the ending was sad, and it’s NOT! There is quite a bit of angst but the ending isn’t sad.

6. a fic that convinced you on a ship you didn’t ship before: “it drops with the gravity of rain” by @geniusorinsanity, 16k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (attempted sexual assault by an OC), Nurseydex

It happens like this:

“I don’t--this is a bad idea,” Dex says, his lips still tingling, his hands shaking on Nursey’s hips where he’s shoved him away. “This is a really bad idea, Nurse. I can’t--We can’t do this.”

And there’s hurt in Nursey’s eyes and his bottom lip is swollen from Dex’s teeth, but he says, “Okay.” And then, “It’s chill, Dex. Just friends, then.”

It happens like this:

“Actually,” Nursey says, talking more to his granola than to them, “I kind of have a date.”

It happens like this:

When Nursey calls, Dex almost doesn’t pick up the phone.

My notes: So I was really confused and a little disturbed when I first found out people shipped Nursey and Dex. Like, Dex just wasn’t someone I trusted. But then I was moving out of the house I’d been living in, and I needed stuff to listen to as I packed and cleaned, and @khashanakalashtar‘s podfics came in clutch. I gave this one a try even though I didn’t like Dex, and @geniusorinsanity blew. My. Mind.

7. a fic from an unusual POV: “Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy” by @porcupine-girl, 8k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

Jesse Snowden knows all the best restaurants and gourmet food shops in Providence, so when Jack Zimmermann starts bringing in incredible baked goods, he's eager to find out where the new bakery is. When he meets the man behind the pies, he decides that there's no way Jack could really appreciate this guy's talent the way he does, even if they are friends. He starts hiring Jack's chef on the side, in the hopes that maybe once Bitty's done with college he'll come work for Jesse.

Good thing there is absolutely no way whatsoever that Jesse could possibly be misinterpreting this situation.

My notes: Oh my gosh this is so funny. The secondhand embarrassment factor is huge, but like, the hilarity.

8. a comfort fic: “Don’t Need to Compromise” by @khashanakalashtar, 11k, E, no warnings, PB&J

“Hey,” said Kent, unknowingly setting off a chain of events that would change his entire life, “you said that like you know from experience. Have you done this before?”

Jack and Bitty have not done polyamory before, but they do know Ransom and Holster’s polycule, which contains March.

And March?

March is trans.

My notes: I’m in love with @khashanakalashtar‘s entire Directionverse series (and honestly a lot of their other writing), but “Don’t Need to Compromise,” which is the second fic in the series, just makes my heart swell especially much. The gender feels are so good, and all the characters are so good to each other, and when I listen to this on walks I have to actively try not to arm-flap.

9. a fic you wish could be a movie: “Ice Crew Please!” by @petals42, 61k, T, no warnings, Zimbits

Jack Zimmermann was drafted first by the Providence Falconers when he was eighteen years old. He is good at hockey. Very good. His team won the Cup his second year and now, in his third year, they are looking good. Jack should be on top of the world. And some days, he manages to convince himself he is.

He’s not, of course.

Enter the Ice Crew.

AKA: The Ice Crew AU

My notes: This fic has its tender moments, but what I love most about it is the sheer goofiness. Ransom and Holster and Shitty are HILARIOUS in this one. I’d love to see their shenanigans in movie form.

10. a WIP you read as it was updated: “Something Borrowed” by @fozmeadows, 48k, M, no warnings, Kent x OC

All things considered, Ari did his best to prepare himself for the advent of Kent Parson, Potentially Difficult Housemate and New Star Liney. The problem was that his best was an idiot.

My notes: So technically I didn’t start reading this until the first 19 chapters were posted. But there was still plenty of anticipation for the final few chapters. And like, @fozmeadows (as mentioned above) makes EXCELLENT OCs. And I love how their fics consistently convey that having bad things happen to you does not mark the end of your story.

Okay, it’s bedtime, so have 10 excellent fics. I got bingo twice, because I went straight across on the top two rows.

#mine #omgcp #omgcheckplease #check please #fic recs

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sssn-neptune-vasilias · 4 years

Text

RWBY vs Comic

Alright, I said I was gonna do this back when the comic first started getting published but I got so frustrated reading it that I couldn’t actually keep up with it enough go through with it. I think I stopped around issue 4 because that was when I just got angry and threw my comic back into the plastic. I figure now’s as good a time as any since I’m actually rereading it now. My whole issue with the RWBY DC comics is that they’re super canon divergent but somehow still canon material. It’s so frustrating that this is the case because we’re supposed to take into account things that happen in the comic as gospel- things like Adam revealing he’d always been genocidal, Bumbleby’s bottlecap, Weiss’ zoo animal arc, etc, but a lot of these different story arcs don’t make sense in our current canon. So I’m gonna talk about them because why not.

Issue #1:

The first issue actually isn’t that bad- mostly because it’s just an intro to the series- but there are still some huge inconsistencies between the comic and official canon.

These two panels are a fucking mess.

1) Ruby was passed out when she was delivered to Patch by Qrow. She’d just used her Silver Eyed Warrior powers for the first time, hurt Cinder, frozen the dragon, and passed out. We were literally forced to listen as Qrow carried Ruby out of the rubble and back home, because she was unconscious. But the comic has her just arriving back home all on her own. “I came back to my dad’s house.” No you didn’t, you literally woke up in your bed after what must’ve been days of being unconscious.

2) We know Blake didn’t get to Menagerie on a little wooden boat. We all watched the episode. It was a decent sized ship with multiple crew members, dozens of passengers, and literal armaments designed to destroy Grimm. Sun can’t hide in a robe for 3+ days on this boat. This boat wouldn’t have survived a Grimm attack in the first place. Idk why they decided to draw this boat instead of just drawing the Pride the way it was designed in the first place, but whatever I guess.

RNJR didn’t tell Taiyang they were leaving. Ruby and her team just left. There was a whole scene dedicated to showing the shock and horror on Tai’s face as he saw Ruby’s letter and ran out of the house hoping to catch up to his daughter before she left. Also not as important but still relevant, RNJR left during winter. There was snow on the ground. I don’t see no snow in this panel- that tree looks real green. That last issue is mostly a nitpick- who cares what season they left in tbh. But the fact that they just wrote this panel into the comic despite the fact canon shows Taiyang had no idea of Ruby’s departure- and the fact that Ruby’s departure is actually really important to a bunch of later scenes in this show is really fucking weird.

Issue #2:

I know we know next to nothing about Raven Branwen, but holy fucking shit do I wanna believe this is ridiculously out of character for her. You’re telling me that Raven actually did come visit Yang and Tai and Ruby, but the one time she ever made her presence known to any of them was to berate and terrify Ruby the one time she’d learned anything about Summer?! Like BRO. This is so fucked up! This is too fucked up! This is straight early 90′s level villainy right here. What was even the point behind this?! This scene tells us that she felt so negatively about Summer Rose that she was willing to break her silent cover just to disillusion Ruby for no other reason than to tell her she was weak. Which makes no fucking sense because when we finally meet her during season 5 Raven has nothing bad to say about Summer at all! What did Qrow say to her after they spoke? “Hey sis why the fuck are you flying around your ex’s home scaring his daughter who just lost her mother? You realize you’re talking shit about the woman who raised your child too right?” Like, this is so wildly terrible, that if we’re meant to take this into account, I don’t see how anyone who reads these comics could say anything positive about Raven ever again. This is strike one, two and three for her entire characterization.

Issue #4:

I’ve said it already but fuck this boat.

Not so much an issue with the comic as it is with RoosterTeeth’s sometimes sloppy storytelling, but we really need an exact age on Adam. Is this man a pedophile? We know Blake is about twelve here, meanwhile- besides looking maybe a little scrawnier- Adam looks the same as he did during the show. How old is this kid right here? Fifteen? Seventeen? Was he 20 during the events of volume 1? Was he 25? I really dislike this specific problem RT has created because at no point during canon were we led to believe that Adam was significantly older than Blake or our other characters, but here in the comic we’re getting huge pedo vibes. Idk if this was RoosterTeeth retroactively trying to throw Adam’s character even further into question but... Idk man, RT y’all need to hurry up and carbon date this kid because I’m really not liking this.

I’m not gonna harp on the whole “Adam as a revolutionary vs Adam as a genocidal maniac” issue again. Most of y’all already know where I stand on this and have either made up your minds that either, yes, Adam’s sudden change towards being genocidal after being forcibly conscripted by Cinder doesn’t make much sense, or, no, Adam’s behavior is entirely in line with what little we’d seen of him up to that point in the story. I’m not trying to change anyone’s opinions on this issue, I’ve got about a dozen other posts for that. My issue with these panels specifically is that this is the moment Blake discovers Adam is genocidal. This is the moment Blake realizes that Adam never wanted peace, never wanted coexistence, never wanted what the White Fang actually wanted in the first place. He wanted Faunus supremacy- a goal entirely removed from the White Fang’s goal of equality between Faunus and humans. This is the moment Blake realizes that his ideology is so far from what it is she herself wants. If this is correct, why does Blake never mention this AT ALL when she’s talking about Adam. When the conversation comes up during season 3, she specifically states that Adam’s change was gradual. Not that he’d been hiding who he really was from her but that he’d become a completely different person from the man she’d originally known. I recognize that a lot of people say that this could be explained away as evidence of Blake’s abuse- oftentimes abusers don’t even realize just how monstrous their abusers are, even after they’ve escaped from said abuse. But this is just such a monumentally larger issue than manipulation and abuse. Adam is outright saying that he wants genocide! He’s not trying to hide it, he’s not trying to lie, he’s not trying to manipulate her! He’s telling her explicitly that he wishes he could kill as many humans as possible. But during the Black Trailer she’s still asking Adam about the crew members as if they hadn’t had this conversation hours ago! During season 2 she’s drawing him in her notebook as if she misses him! During season 3 she’s explaining that he’s simply misguided! This is apologia of the umpteenth level that is absolutely inexcusable. If I’m honestly supposed to be made to believe that Blake knew Adam was genocidal from before the events of the Black trailer and season 1 but still had feelings for him... I’m sorry but I’ve lost any and all respect for her entire character. You can’t have feelings for someone who’s genocidal- who you know is genocidal- and expect sympathy. No amount of abuse would forgive someone for having feelings for Hitler.

I recognize the comics aren’t supposed to be a shot for shot recreation of the show, but what the fuck is this panel? The frame of Adam dismembering Yang was such a good, amazing, impactful frame. The black and red framing, the yellow of Yang’s hair and weapons, the red of Adam’s sword. Why would you not even try to recreate that?

Leaving nitpicks for the end, really wish they hadn’t used “sunflower” here. That’s Yang/Ren. But again, the comic is made by people who aren’t in the fndm and don’t interact with the RWBY community at large in the first place, so of course they wouldn’t know.

Issue #5:

Why does Blake seem so ooc here. Like, the fact that she’s trying to make Weiss feel guilty for “cheating” in a “win by any means necessary” free for all match is really??? Weird??? When we know Blake isn’t above using underhanded tricks herself considering what she did to Reese during the tournament and her Semblance in general??? But whatever, that’s mostly a nitpick as well.

Issue #7:

My issue with this story is that it ends with Yang like, wistfully thinking of spending more time with Blake. But this is before she even put the prosthetic on. This is before she even got to talk with Weiss after meeting up with Raven. This is so early on in her healing process that I find it extremely difficult to believe that Yang is fondly remembering any time she spent with Blake. When Ruby talks to her during 3.12, she was angry that Blake had left her! Abandoned her! And then in the conversation she has with Weiss that happens after this event in the comic she’s still frustrated with Blake for leaving. So like... did she suddenly forgive Blake just a few weeks into her recovery and then relapse back into feeling like she’d abandoned her? Wtf is this?

Issue #9:

I know she’s obviously supposed to be drunk here, and we barely got to know her during the short scenes she had, but like... she never struck me as this kind of person. To literally forget how old her daughter is? Like...???? The same woman who was so perceptive she was able to recognize that Whitley was acting out because he’d felt lonely and abandoned by his sisters? Doesn’t know how old one of her children is? This is silly.

This isn’t the same woman we met during season 7. This isn’t the same quick witted woman who immediately directed Weiss to the cameras she’d hidden around the house when it was time to spring the trap on Jacques. This isn’t the same woman who was so honest when she admitted to her own faults just a few short months after this scene supposedly took place. You could argue that the events of this comic are what led Willow to become the person we meet later on, but like... That’s an absolutely ridiculous amount of offscreen growth you’re expecting me to just assume has happened. These aren’t the same people. This is ridiculous.

Issue #12:

This seems so ooc for Sun. Why is he literally begging her to run away and not face a problem when his entire relationship with Blake up to and past this point is him teaching Blake to love herself enough to face her problems head-on in the first place? This is so weird and gross imo because it just feels like they’re warping Sun’s character to make it look like Yang is the only good influence in her life when that’s simply not the case. Every conversation Sun has with Blake from season 1 to season 6 is him telling her that she deserves happiness, love, and to forgive herself. There are multiple songs about this aspect of their relationship! Sun has helped Blake grow just as much as Yang has. Why is Sun taking this approach to manipulate Blake into staying silent about something that’s bothering her? On top of that, Sun’s never been the brightest banana of the bunch anyway, why the FUCK is he smart enough here to recognize that if Blake tells the truth and makes those people feel bad, that they’d draw more Grimm? He’s never been this intuitive before. It really feels like they made him smarter than he normally is just to make him scummier than he’s ever been so that we could feel that Blake’s relationship with Sun is less than her relationship with Yang. Awful writing and characterization from the RWBY DC team here

Issue #13:

This is so wrong and despicable and manipulative and terrible. Again, this isn’t the same woman we met in the show.

Willow never made excuses for herself or her actions like this. Not once during the entire time she was on screen did she do anything like this. She knew she wasn’t a great mother and she took full responsibility for her actions- and inaction- I don’t know WHY she’s trying to excuse herself here. This is more Cruella De Ville than it is Willow Schnee.

I’m not gonna explain how lumping this “prized menagerie” story with “Faunus slave labor” story together is godawful but just recognize that it’s Black History Month and this plot point they decided to write in is not MLK approved.

Anyway, that’s the whole RWBY DC run. All in all it wasn’t the worst adaptation of an established series, but goddamn. I’d rank this up there with Eragon or Percy Jackson or the end of the Soul Eater anime or something. This is such a slap in the face by people who obviously only ever skimmed through the show for the explicit purpose of writing this series that I’ve read fancomics and fanfiction that handle canon better than this. It’s really frustrating too because this comic run is like, beloved by certain people in the fndm who are only in this for the ships, and people who refuse to see anything wrong with this series ever. The healthy servings of Bumbleby and crumbs of Monochrome and White Rose are apparently enough to make people go “fuck all the inconsistencies, this comic is great.” Cannot express how much these people make me wanna slam my head into a wall.

I did this just to highlight all the issues I have with the run, but I’m sure other people have other issues with this comic than I do. Have fun in the comments I guess.

#RWBY #RWDE

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adiabolikpastel · 3 years

Text

Title: Lunar Eclipse Masquerade

Laito pt. 1

Rating: PG 13

Word Count: 1,576

Pairing: Laito x Yuki (m/m)

ღ Living with Laito has it's challenges, but Yuki just wants to try to make things right - but were they ever? ღ

Mun Yu: This is going to be presented a little different than my other written works. Since it is so long, I have decided to publish it in parts, rather than the novel that it is. Each boy will receive their own post, some getting more post than others. For each post, it will make a sort of time line of events - to help paint the entire story. All post will begin with the premise, and the continuation under the cut. Enjoy.

Additionally: I would love to thank @akai-anemone for their wonderful analysis on the affects of the Lunar Eclipse in DL

☆+ ﾟ .+ .ﾟ.ﾟ｡ﾟ｡. +ﾟ｡ﾟ.ﾟ｡☆*｡｡ . ｡ o .｡ﾟ｡.o｡* ｡ .｡

Despite what most people think, demonic beings are very social creatures. The elites hold countless balls and parties, celebrating their immortality together, and entertaining one another with stories. Typically, they are done in celebration for something – though this is not always the case. All types of beings from across the Demon Realm will come if the host is of high enough prestige.

There would be no such host if it was not for Karlheinz. Seated as the head of the Bat Clan (vampires), Karl’s reach spans far. Being the widow for the former Demon King’s daughter, and having children of the first blood, an invitation from the Vampire King is not one to refuse. Though why would you? In his immaculate castle within the Demon Realm, Eden Castle, it is always quite the spectacle. While the celebrations held in his Human World mansion are nice, nothing compares to a true night of pleasure within the true home of the King.

On this night, there was to be a Masquerade in honor of the first Lunar Eclipsed Moon in over two years. While this night may serve each species differently, the idea to celebrate its return was simply too tempting. For this reason, Karlheinz took it upon himself – or rather – his house, to host the event. This extended to his offspring as well, regardless of their personal agenda. Members of every social elite race accepted the offer, and gathered for a truly unforgettable evening.

With Yuki still in school, there were large hours where he was unable to see Laito. He longed to simply quit, but his keeper wouldn’t allow that. Dr. Reinhart had been nothing but kind and accommodating to him. So there was no way he could disrespect him in that way. The doctor was already understanding of his desire to leave the Sakamaki’s manor with Laito.

It was under the condition that he be responsible, so Yuki got a job during the day. In the mornings he would work at a coffee shop. It was a miracle that he even got the job – but Yuki was fairly sure Laito secured it for him. Laito was so kind! There was no way he would have been able to do it on his own.

He was actually surprised that he wasn’t fired. Yuki was never loud enough for customers to hear, and people in the morning can be really angry! Yet here he was, at 7 am, working. He’d had this job for a couple of months now. On this particular morning, he would be there until noon, which wasn’t too bad.

“H-How can I help you?” Yuki asked, as the next guest came up to the register. They ordered very quickly, “Ua… I’m sorry… Could you say that one more time?” He was able to understand it a little better, “One… um… Do you want that with regular milk or-" The guest glares at him, “S-Sorry! My… I don’t work that fast so if you could…” They repeat to him once more, this time much slower. “Thank you… We’ll get that ready for you…” He offers them a smile and they go down to the other window.

The day continues like this, though most people are less patient. Finally his shift comes to an end, and the manager calls him into her office. “You… asked to see me?” She directs him to sit as she finishes sending a text. Yuki obeys, sitting in the small chair, fidgeting slightly.

It feels like forever before she finally acknowledges him. Telling him finally that his work ethic is there, but he has no talent for customer service. However, she would be willing to keep him on, if he gave her his ‘friends’ number. She goes on to say that after they hooked up a few times, he’s never given her a phone number to call him at.

Yuki sat motionless for a moment. It wasn’t as if the news was surprising. Laito had always slept around. However, this felt dirty. “… I’m sorry ma’am… Senpai doesn’t have a number to call. So… if that’s all…” He needed to get out of here. It was taking all of his strength not to throw up. The manager tries to start talking again, but Yuki excuses himself and rushes out of the shop.

He ran as far as he could, before his stomach couldn’t take it anymore. Moving away from others, he can’t help but lurch over and let his body cope. It felt awful. Not just the act of heaving, but the pain in his chest to go with it. Why was everything like this? Yuki could feel tears sting as he lowered himself into a crouch.

What was he lacking? Was it so bad that he was a man? Wasn’t it enough to love Laito more than anything? Why was this so hard? Yuki couldn’t even answer himself as the tears fell onto the ground. What was he doing all of this for? After allowing himself a moment to calm down, Yuki walked home. Normally, he would use this time to jog, but he didn’t think it was smart to do that today.

He and Laito were renting a luxurious apartment, which Laito mostly ‘paid’ for. Yuki wasn’t sure how he did, but decided it was a vampire thing. The little money that Yuki made himself, went to keeping food in the house. Even though Laito ate that too. As Yuki entered, all the lights were switched off. This was normal, as Laito was probably sleeping.

Yuki moved as quietly as possible, and walked over to his ‘room’. Laito didn’t want to get any more space than needed, so if Yuki was adamant on living with him – he would have to be on the coach. Today this all seemed to bother him. Perhaps it was because he never got to see Laito anymore, even though they lived together. With school, work, and who knows what Laito does – it was as if the two were strangers.

Perhaps that is what hurt the most? Why all these thoughts and worries ran through his head. Yuki decided that it was not the time to think too hard on it – as he was exhausted. So the small human used the restroom to change, get ready for bed, and tucked himself into bed. Determined that tomorrow night he would see Laito.

“Huh!? How did you find me?” Laito’s voice startled Yuki awake. Shooting up in worry he looks around to see Laito sitting at the breakfast counter. Nude it would seem, aside from his headband. Before him was a raven, but it wasn’t making any sounds. “I do not plan to ever go back there.” Laito affirms to the bird.

Yuki sits up and scuttles to the restroom while Laito finishes his conversation. When he comes out, the vampire is pouting while eating some cereal. “Even when I'm gone they expect me to do these things. I cannot believe this.” Yuki walks into the kitchen to prepare himself some food, but all the cereal is gone. “… Laito-senpai… are we all out of-?”

“Hm? Oh… I didn’t see you there.” Laito smirks at the human before him. “Sorry~ I was so hungry after… well… you get it. Ah, but you have no school tonight right~ Go to the store and buy some more.” He finishes the last bites of his own.

Yuki nods softly, deciding that he didn’t need breakfast anyway. “Senpai… I was… could we maybe… tonight…”

“Ehh? Laito-kun has plans tonight. Not to mention my glasses wearing older brother, has told me to come home.” He says, sighing and walking back to his room. In a bit of a panic, Yuki follows after him. Laito tries to shut his door, but Yuki gets in the way, squeaking in pain for a moment. “What is it, Stalker-kun?”

Yuki held onto Laito’s door, he wanted to ask him if he could go with him. Wanted to tell him about yesterday. He didn’t want to be left alone in this place. “C-Could I… we could go… together! That would be… better right… I mean…”

Laito looks down at the human trembling in the doorway. Then out into the living room. The place was well kept, but it had Yuki’s things everywhere. His school books, clothes, blankets. “When are you going to get it?” He finally says. Yuki looks up at him confused. “Don’t you think it’s been long enough? I am annoyed with seeing you all the time.”

Yuki's heart thumped in his ears. He could barely hear what Laito was saying. He was annoyed with him? They barely got to see one another, and he was annoyed. “M-Maybe if we… were actually able to… to sp-spend time together… l-like before…!” Yuki could feel his fist gripping tighter to Laito’s door. He didn’t know what to do or say.

Laito let out a tsk, “I am able to do as I please now – though clearly not as much as I had thought. Why would I need to keep you around? I do not need your blood. I do not need your body. Fufu…” Laito reaches down and takes a hold of Yuki’s chin, “You are an eyesore to me…. And I want you out.” Without another word, Laito effortlessly pulled Yuki from the door. Tossed him slightly out of the way, and closed the door behind him.

☆+ ﾟ .+ .ﾟ.ﾟ｡ﾟ｡. +ﾟ｡ﾟ.ﾟ｡ TO BE CONTINUED ☆*｡｡ . ｡ o .｡ﾟ｡.o｡* ｡ .｡

#writing #Lunar Eclipse Masquerade #LEM #laito sakamaki #yuki awashima #laiki

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choicesficwriterscreations · 4 years

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350 Followers: Meet The Writer

Welcome to 350 Followers Meet The Writer! Like we mentioned last week, the number of followers increased really fast because many of you joined us during our first event, which is why we’re having two Q&A in such short period of time. Again, we’re truly grateful for you all joined us.

Anyway, this fanfic author is part of the fandom for quite some time and we’re proud to introduce her to the newbies of Choices fandom:

Blog: @darley1101 Name (and/or petname): Coll Birthday: December 11 Nationality: German/Syrian/with some Scottish and a dash of Russian Current residency: the US Languages you speak: English Masterlist: Coll's Fanfiction Masterlist

1. Is there a meaning behind your url name?

I wish I had some creative story behind my url name but alas it is just part of my actual name. I tend to panic when it comes to creating url names.

2. When did you start playing Choices? What's the first book you played?

I was an avid player of High School Story and Hollwood U so when Pixelberry announced their new app I decided to check it out. I guess you could say I've been there since the start. The Crown and The Flame, followed by The Freshman.

3. When did you decide to join Choices fandom?

Now this does have a funny/cute story attached to it! You can blame @queen-of-effing-everything for that! I ran across her stories on fanfiction.net and when she announced she would be posting on tumblr I sort of followed her over.

4. Go back to your archive and tell us what was your first post on your Choices blog was about.

I feel weird saying this but it was my first Choices fic, which was a cringy little drabble about Liam staring at burnt apple trees.

5. How long have you been writing fanfiction?

If we're talking about Choices it has been around 3 years, give or take. If we are talking about fanfiction in general I started writing for Grey's Anatomy back in Season 1.

6. Share the first fanfic you wrote with us. Do you still like it or would you change anything about it?

I am going to go with my first Choices fanfic, which is the burnt apple tree one I mentioned above. I don't know that I feel one way or the other about it but I do know that I wouldn't change anything about it. When I look at it I can see where I started from and compare it to where I am now. There has been definite growth in my confidence with the characters so for me that's more important than trying to perfect it.

7. What are your favorite Choices books to write about?

I have to be honest, questions like this give me major anxiety! I'm very indecisive when it comes to choosing favorites but if I absolutely have to I would go with The Royal Romance. There is just so much you can do with the characters!

8. Imagine this scenario: you’ve posted a fic anonymously for a contest/writing challenge. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

This is a tough one. A lot of my readers comment on my ability to portray a vast array of emotion with a small amount of words so I guess find a short emotional piece that is probably mine.

9. Which part of writing do you struggle with most?

All of it. 9 times out of 10 I've spent hours staring at a blank document with a little voice in my head saying 'why bother, you know it's not going to be as good as what others write.' Crazy, I know. I'm working on not comparing myself to others but it's definitely something I struggle with and it has played a huge factor in my writing.

10. Have you ever purposefully written one fandom/fic idea over another because you knew it’d be more popular?

To the best of my knowledge, no. If anything I try to write stories that are outside the box. There's just something about taking an idea and going in a completely out there direction that appeals to me.

11. Are there any writers (published authors and/or fanfic writers) who influenced your writing?

Absolutely. Author PC Cast was my creative writing teacher; of course back then she was just a creative writing teacher with dreams of being a published author. If you like vampire stories I strongly recommend checking out her House of Night Series. As far as fandom members who have influenced my writing I would have to say the biggest influence has been blackcatkitta. From the start, we have been honest with one another when it comes to our writing. If something isn't working we're both comfortable enough with each other to say 'that doesn't work,'

12. If someone you know in real life who isn’t involved in fandoms asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first?

My husband has read most of my stories or been involved in some capacity. Does that count? If not, I'm not sure I would let others besides him. I'm very self concious when it comes to my writing.

13. Has writing fanfic had a significant impact on your life? Would you say it’s entirely positive?

It has had a significant impact on my life. Without going into details it has opened doors that led me to people who have experienced similar traumas. I used to feel very alone, like there was something wrong with me, and now I have a support network that is there to remind I didn't deserve what happened to me, that there was something wrong with the person who hurt me...in return I've been able to do the same for others.

14. You’re applying for the fanfic writer of the year award. What five fanfics do you put in your portfolio?

Maxwell Beaumont's Terrible Day

Bittersweet Symphony

I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas

Rain

A Bit of Normal

15. Do you write original stories?

I want to but I am forever talking myself out of it.

Do you want to contribute with questions/ideas for the next Meet The Writer Q&A? Send us a message.

Thanks for reading! Reblog to share your appreciation for @darley1101 ❤️

#choices fic writers creations #350 followers #the royal romance fanfic #the freshman fanfic #perfect match fanfic #cfwc meet the writer

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letterstoleia · 3 years

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Important Lessons Learned from Gabby and Brian

As an author and advocate for survivors of domestic violence, I’ve learned a lot about the predictable patterns of unhealthy relationships. After years of personal experiences, research, and outreach, I’ve learned to recognize the tell-tale signs of abuse. I am not a licensed therapist, social worker, police officer, or minister. So please understand I shared my thoughts as 3 a.m. musings. When a few people asked me to make the post public, I agreed, reluctantly. I had no idea this message would resonate with so many people. I've worked back through the original post to explain a bit better how I'm feeling. I realize not everyone will agree with me, and I respect all opinions and views. All I ask is that we engage in respectful discourse on all sides. Thank you all.

In recent days, the tragic events involving Gabby Petito and Brian Laundrie have given us a lot to learn. This case is still under investigation, and I can only make assumptions based on the textbook patterns of abuse I’ve witnessed too many times to count. I also recognize that multiple families are grieving, and I have tremendous empathy for everyone involved. However, many survivors will resonate with at least some of the following insights, and I’m hoping we can use this tragedy to shift the way we as a culture approach the complicated issue of domestic abuse.

Let’s examine 30 important lessons this couple teaches us:

1. Followers on social media saw a smiling, happy couple, full of love and wanderlust, setting out for a cross-country adventure while documenting all the joys of young life. In many cases, targets become very good at smiling through the pain.

2. When the public was shown body camera footage captured by Moab City Police officer Daniel Robbins, (who pulled Laundrie and Petito over after the 911 call on August 12), some viewers assumed Petito was suffering from mental illness and Laundrie, while nervous, was the steadier of the two.

3. Other viewers assumed both partners were equally at fault—the old “it takes two” myth that doesn’t really apply to most abusive situations.

4. Some people even assumed Petito was the abuser and Laundrie was the victim.

5. These three assumptions probably crossed everyone’s mind as a possibility (they did mine). Healthy minded people tend to give others the benefit of the doubt, especially when someone is being accused of a negative act. Also, we can all understand that mental illness is a difficult situation and can tax even the kindest most gentle of souls (and the people who love them). Unfortunately, in many cases, this thought pattern leads us to assume the victim is mentally ill or that the victim is to blame for an altercation.

6. “Victim blaming” can happen even in the worst cases of abuse because we don’t see the longitudinal story unfolding. What we don’t see is that the target has managed to keep things together until she reached her threshold, at which time we may see her crying, yelling, or breaking down emotionally. By exhibiting those behaviors, many might assume the target is “crazy,” and it’s natural for us to feel as if the more stable person is more trustworthy.

7. If we listen carefully to Laundrie’s conversation with the officers, he even laughs and says, “She’s crazy.” (17.09) Then he dismisses it as a joke. Of course, he’s already put this claim in the officers’ minds (and by the nonchalant way he says it, many might assume it’s not the first time he’s said these words.)

8. So while viewers (and officers) start wondering if perhaps the target is “crazy,” the abuser plays the part of the poor, patient partner who has to deal with this irrational person. In the video, Laundrie mentions Petito’s anxiety and her OCD, painting her as an unstable partner. (Please note: I’m not at all justifying any physical violence against either party. No one should intentionally harm any other person. Period.)

9. A typical abuser would be skilled at convincing people that he’s innocent, while in fact he’s been acting very differently behind closed doors, pushing his target to this point intentionally and feeding on her emotional break. Many abusers LOVE to see evidence that they’ve hurt their target. They LOVE to see their target in pain. For this reason, “breaking” the target is usually the goal from the start. In cases of abuse, it may take an abuser hours, weeks, months, or even years to break the target, but he won’t stop until he gets that reaction, and then he’ll point the finger and say, “See? She’s crazy. I’m just trying to keep her calm.” And then he’ll do it again. And again. And again.

10. As a result, some people will buy into that false narrative. Even the target can be brainwashed to doubt her own truth. Which may be one reason we see Petito making many excuses for Laundrie’s behavior and taking the blame for everything.

11. In contrast, we see Laundrie blaming Petito, insisting he never hit her and saying he was just trying to keep her calm. He’s charming. He comes across as the loving and loyal partner. He’s joking around with the officers and even gives one a fist bump in the end. All the while, his fiancée is at risk of being charged with domestic assault and possibly spending the night in jail.

12. Later, we’ll hear the 911 recording that (it seems) the responding officers were not fully informed of at the time: “I’d like to report a domestic dispute.” The 49 second audio recording continues as the caller says, “The gentleman was slapping the girl.” When the dispatcher asks him to confirm that the man was slapping the girl, the caller responds, “Yes, and then we stopped, they ran up and down the sidewalk, he proceeded to hit her, hopped in the car, and they drove off.”

13. But long before the 911 call was made public, many survivors could already see through the spin playing out on the video footage. They easily recognized the “red flags” because these cycles become the norm for victims of long-standing abuse. Many targets eventually become conditioned to believe everything the abuser does is her fault. Covering for the abuser, accepting all the blame, trying harder to make the abuser happy—this warped reality becomes the only truth a target knows.

14. Also, it seems clear that Petito doesn’t want her fiancé to be in any trouble. She’d rather pay the price and protect the man she loves. And because she probably believes he only acted this way because of her mood/behaviors/anxiety/OCD/job, she doesn’t want him to be blamed. This is also the norm in abusive relationships.

15. Many experienced and well-trained officers see right through this typical pattern. Others buy the cover-up story. And, sadly, because some officers are also abusers, some side with the abuser even when they know exactly what’s going on. Throughout the video, we get the sense that Officer Robbins senses there’s more to the story.

16. I credit the police in Petito’s situation, especially Officer Robbins. The four responding officers (two of whom were park rangers) remained calm, they separated the couple, they interviewed them individually, they split them up for the night, they consulted the domestic violence shelter … many would say they did everything right considering the information they had at the time.

17. I imagine the officers involved may be suffering from tremendous guilt and wondering if they could have prevented Petito’s death, but I want to give credit to the officers in this case. While it’s easy to look back and say maybe they should have handled things differently, knowing what we now know, I was impressed with how well they treated both Laundrie and Petito (and, sadly, I was thinking how rare it is to see that level of respect and professionalism in most cases of domestic violence, particularly in the South where I’ve been most involved with survivors’ stories.)

18. After Petito was reported missing, many people expressed shock in response to the Laundrie family’s refusal to cooperate early in the investigation. Petito reportedly lived with the Laundrie family for more than a year. Anyone can see that this family will do anything to protect their son, even at the cost of an innocent young woman who was a real part of their family and soon to be their daughter-in-law. While most of us can certainly understand parents wanting to protect their son, most would agree they crossed a moral line when his fiancée went missing.

19. But perhaps it goes deeper than that. Perhaps what we’re seeing is a system of enablers who not only allowed their son to abuse Petito (which may have been a factor in her reported anxiety) but also a system of gaslighters who may have always been shifting the truth to keep Petito confused and make her believe she was the problem.

20. It’s not a far stretch to assume Petito was caught in a system of abuse. And once a target is caught in that psychological web, it’s extremely difficult to see a way out. Reality becomes flipped.

21. It’s also worth noting that Petito and Laundrie had been involved in various levels of a relationship since their teens. This is also commonly observed in dysfunctional partnerships.

22. These immature relationships work beautifully when both partners grow together and mature emotionally. But when one wants to keep the other down, naïve, and under his control … and the other is growing, learning, and maturing … it doesn’t work.

23. We hear Petito tell the officer that Laundrie didn’t think she could succeed with her travel blog (3.25). It seems clear that he didn’t believe in her and that he was trying to make her doubt herself.

24. Throughout the conversation, he implies that he locked her out of the van because she wouldn’t calm down. But when we listen to the full video, it seems he was upset because they’d spent too much time at the coffee shop with her working on her website when he wanted to go hiking. This suggests that because she wasn’t in the van when he was ready to leave, he lost his temper.

25. In the moments that followed, the altercation became physical. Reportedly, Laundrie squeezed Petito’s face with his hand, cut her down verbally, and criticized her.

26. Some would argue that this escalating abuse typically persists until the target reacts emotionally and/or physically. If this case follows the norm, Laundrie may have been trying to break her spirit, intentionally.

27. Why? Again, if this case follows the typical situation, it would likely be because Petito’s focus wasn’t 100% on Laundrie. She had found this new job she enjoyed. She was succeeding at it, and it was allowing her to connect with other people. (Remember, she’d already left her job as a nutritionist to travel around the country with Laundrie.)

28. In a healthy relationship, the new job might be considered a positive opportunity for Petito. Especially considering Laundrie admits they have very little money (not even enough to afford a hotel room to prevent his fiancée from going to jail). But in an unhealthy relationship, the abuser wants the target all to himself. And when that doesn’t happen, he can become increasingly violent.

29. Petito now had this one little piece of her life that Laundrie couldn’t control, so if we’re looking at textbook patterns, perhaps her blog angered him. Perhaps he didn’t like all the attention she was getting on social media. Perhaps he punished her for it. And then a cycle developed. Even though she was doing nothing wrong by building a new career.

30. The next thing we know, we have a missing person, a recovered body, a young man on the run, and several families destroyed. Too much grief to measure. And the truth is, it will happen again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, until we learn to recognize and respond to abusive situations in healthier ways.

The overall takeaway?

When we see someone at her emotional end during a domestic dispute, we shouldn’t assume she’s crazy. We shouldn’t buy into the false narrative given by the abuser. We shouldn’t believe the cover-up story by the target who has been conditioned to carry all the blame and shame. And we shouldn’t assume they’re going to be okay.

Instead, we should all learn the difference between healthy and unhealthy relationships. We should learn to recognize the warning signs of abuse. We should engage in respectful, fact-based conversations about trauma bonds, abusive cycles, and emotional intelligence. We should be familiar with terms like gaslighting, hovering, love bombing, enabling, triangulating, and projecting. We should stop blaming targets and help them reclaim their truth. And we should stop repeating the age-old myths that keep targets trapped in these dangerous and all-too-often deadly cycles.

Finally, while I’ve used the most common scenario of male-on-female violence in this article, we should recognize that abuse crosses all barriers and can impact anyone regardless of gender, sexuality, ethnicity, nationality, religious affiliation, age, or socio-economic level. And we should stop assuming these situations will get better in time. Personally, I haven’t heard of one abusive relationship that became healthier. Not one. Not with therapy. Not with church. Not with prayer or forgiveness or complete surrender. When an abuser is determined to destroy his target, he will not stop until that target is erased from this world or stripped from her life. And in many cases, he’ll walk away without any consequences, often taking the target’s finances, home, vehicle, reputation, or even her children with him.

Please don’t let the next statistic be you or someone you love. For support, contact the Domestic Violence Hotline. From a safe phone, call 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or text “START” to 88788.

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roseyserpents · 4 years

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Don't Hold Me

Summary: After Sweet Pea is cheated on, he doesn't believe he can be loved again. You try to convince him otherwise.

Word count: 1,787

Warnings: cheating, self-doubt

A/N: this is based off Don't Hold Me: by Dean Lewis (one of my fav songs) sorry if this is bad I just wanted to get something out because I haven't posted in a while

Posted: April 14, 2020 7:00 P.M. EDT

Have you ever wished you could rewind

Have you ever lived on borrowing time

Knowing your mistakes are chasing you down from behind

When he first found out, Sweet Pea didn't want to believe she could do it. He didn't believe the girl he'd said he'd loved and returned the words could hurt him so deeply and painfully. He'd rounded the corner of the street on his way to the Whyte Wyrm and down the alley he saw her pressed against a wall with her lips kissing someone else's the way they kissed his own. The breath was taken from his lungs at the sight as he tried to tell himself it was a trick of the shadows all the way back to his trailer. He replayed the scene over and over in his head as he finally realized that exact moment was the end of his relationship with who he thought was the love of his life.

He looked back into the relationship and looked for mistakes he made, holes in the fabric that were unnoticed. He tried to see when these mistakes caught up to him and led to her going to someone else that night. He wanted to go back, rewind and fix what he was certain had to have been broken to cause this. He wanted to gather up the pieces that'd been chipped off and somehow put them back together to fix what was beyond repair.

When she got home that night, Sweet Pea couldn't even bring himself to look her in the eye; to touch her that night or pay attention to the kiss she pressed to his cheek. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about how her lips had been on someone else's less than an hour before and she could go on and lie with him like she wasn't destroying him.

He tried to keep the relationship going on its last leg, unable to bring himself to call it off with her because despite it all he loved her; he loved her even when her love was a lie. He wanted so badly to repair them, but eventually he realized he was living on borrowed time with her. One day he told her he saw them that night. The break up was messy and painful with screaming and regrets ending with her picking up and walking out the door. After that, Sweet Pea wasn't Sweet Pea much. He didn't have a shine in his eyes as he'd used to, a smile rarely making its way on to his face. His heart felt broken and lost, to pained to pick itself back up again and repair the damage she'd done.

And then one Summer, you came into town. You were bright and sweet and kind and everything Sweet Pea was missing. You joined the Serpents and he saw you everyday, your contagious smile from across the room or the sound of your laughter at someone telling a joke. He noticed you and something in him seemed to pull towards you but he was still to hurt to try to talk to you.

You saw him, too. When you were welcomed into Riverdale, you saw the serpent with a distant look in his eyes and who looked away every time you caught his gaze. You tried to learn more about him from Fangs and Toni, but they wouldn't tell you what had caused his distancing and coldness towards everyone else. They told you it wasn't their story to tell, this only making you want to know him more.

"Hi, Sweet Pea, right?" You greeted after the urge to know more about the mysterious serpent grew stronger.

"You are?" He asked with an indifference in his voice, his gaze harsh as he looked down at you.

"Y/n. I thought you'd like to talk." You explain.

"And why's that?" He asks.

"Because I've noticed your not-so-discreet staring."

He gives you a look you can't quite figure out as if he's judging the options in front of him before his stance seems to relax.

"So, what do you want to talk about?"

Over the course of that summer you grew closer and closer to Sweet Pea, your light seeming to fill some of the cracks in his heart. The two of you spent much of your free time together, the closest he'd been to anyone since her. He felt not just happier with you, but lighter as if a weight he'd been carrying around had been lifted off of him. He still couldn't bring himself to admit to the butterflies that flew through his stomach when he saw you, fearing if he did he'd make mistakes again and something would go wrong as it always seemed to.

"Hey Sweets?" You say. The two of you sit at the Quarry where the sun that is split by the branches dots your skin and the gentle water below.

"Yeah?" He wasn't quite paying attention, more of his focus on trying to skip rocks as they sink time after time.

"Have you ever thought of us being more than friends?"

He goes quiet and the rocks stop gliding across the surface of the Quarry, the only noise being that of moving leaves. You turn to look at him and find him seemingly lost in his own world, his eyes looking somewhere further than you could travel.

"Pea?" You ask, reaching out and placing your hand on his arm. He jumps up to his feet, something raw in his eyes as he seemed to remember where he was.

"I-I can't. Sorry."

Before you could say anything else he walked, almost ran away from you and your question. You didn't understand what had caused this bizarre reaction, trying to figure out which signs you read wrong and where. You thought he'd felt the same about you, the way he went out of his way to be near you or make plans with you.

"I just don't get it Toni," You sigh, sitting at the mostly empty bar with your pink-haired friend, "It just seems like everything was lined up but then he just left. He said he can't. What does that mean?"

"That sounds like something you should ask him." She says, raising her brow, "There's something holding him back from being in a relationship with anyone. He was hurt."

"This major event that you all keep talking about but won't tell me? You want me to ask him about that after I already screwed up?" You ask.

"Y/n, he'll tell you if he wants you to know." Toni explains. "You should go talk to him if you're really that set on knowing."

"I love you, but you're really frustrating sometimes." You sigh before walking out of the bar and heading towards Sunnyside Trailer park.

I know it's hard to replace

But the feelings that you had for me, will one day be erased

And you will learn to move on

Like footprints in the snow

Are lost when the winter's gone

"Pea?" You call out as you open the door to his trailer. You find him sitting on his couch with his head in his hands. He looked up and you could see tear tracks staining his cheeks, his eyes red and rubbed raw.

You sit down next to him and cautiously put your hand on his arm again, his body stiffening.

"You'll move on." He whispers. "You'll forget about ever having feelings for me at all. It'll be like a momentary emotion that fades. It always fades."

"What happened?" You ask softly, wanting to know what caused this much pain that still lasted a year later, that made him believe people couldn't love him. After a few more moments of silence he finally revealed to you the story of the girl he'd loved and lost to someone else. He told you how it shattered his view of the world and how he realized no matter what he made mistakes that would kill any relationship he'd be in.

"You are not unlovable, Sweets." You say, taking his hand in yours. "That wasn't your fault. She made the mistake of giving up the most amazing man anyone could have."

Oh you must let go of me

'Cause if you keep me you will lose it all

So darling don't please, please

Don't hold me 'cause I am falling back down

And I wouldn't wanna see you hit the ground

Well little darling you found my heart in the lost and found

But the scars they still follow me around

"You don't want to love me. Don't love me. If you do I'll just bring you down with me, and I don't want to see you fall. I'm broken and scarred. You're amazing and full of life and just everything I'm not." He says.

He speaks so harsh of himself you look to his face to find an expression that says he's joking but you find one of seriousness and self loathing. He truly believed he couldn't be loved because of this one girl who cheated on him.

"Listen to me," You say sternly, your hand coming up to hold his cheek and make him look at you. "I love you. I love every piece of you, even if some of those pieces might be broken or damaged. I know what she did was horrible and in no way did you deserve that, but none of it was your fault. She made those decisions and none of them were based off of what you did in your relationship."

"But I-"

"No buts. You are not unlovable and you are not just a person who only makes mistakes. You made me love you, Sweet Pea. I love all of this amazingly wonderful person in front of me."

It's quiet again, the two of you looking at each other and you trying to read his thoughts through his eyes. There's a million thoughts racing through his mind as he tries to believe what you said. Maybe it wasn't him, maybe he could be in a relationship with you.

Sweet Peas hand comes up and rests on top of yours on his cheek, his thumb running over the top of your hand. He moves to cup your cheek before pulling you closer and pressing a soft kiss to your lips that spread warmth through his chest and further strengthened his belief in your words. The two of you pull away, wrapped up in each other and lost in the still lasting feeling of the kiss.

"You can love me." He whispers.

"Oh yeah?" You reply, a smile dancing on your face.

"Yeah."

#sweet pea riverdale #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea fanfiction #sweet pea #riverdale imagine #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale #toni topaz #fangs fogarty #southside serpents #southside high #southside

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megalony · 5 years

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Family ties- Part 11

Here is the next part of my dad! Ben Hardy series which I hope everyone will like, thank you all for the feedback it is much appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls

Series taglist: @flaminasteroid

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) were single parents but they are trying to raise their kids together as one big family. Now they’re finally having a baby of their own, but that proves hard when there’s a problem with their baby.

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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"He has sepsis."

"But that's blood poisoning." Ben's words were fired back at the doctor as quickly as he spoke but there was very little fire behind his words and they were spoken very quietly as if he was afraid that saying them any louder would make them too real to cope with.

Billy couldn't have that, he was a baby, he wasn't even one week old yet. He was too small with an immune system that was far too weak to be able to cope with having this condition. Ben had had this condition before and it had been Hell for him to get through, he didn't see how his baby boy could manage that. It was a condition that could easily kill.

"How do you treat it?" (Y/n) needed to know that there was something the doctor could do to help Billy. She had to be told what they were going to do because if she was told there was nothing to help Billy, she wouldn't know how to cope. They had gotten this far when no one thought they would even get through the pregnancy, it couldn't all be for nothing at this stage. Billy was here, he was alive and well with his heart exactly where it should have been in the first place. They couldn't lose him now.

"Sepsis is the body's reaction to an infection, the blood starts to damage the tissues in the body. We've started Billy on a high dose of antibiotics to treat the infection and they will treat his blood too. We've taken him off the blood thinners and he's been sedated. But if the infection spreads to his heart and the sepsis attacks his heart... his chances will be slim."

Billy was only a baby and with his operation, his immune system was already going to be on high alert. Now it was attacking his healthy tissue because his body was reacting very badly to an infection that was happening in his chest. If the infection got worse or spread to his heart and the sepsis didn't go away, it would attack his heart and he would die. He already had a high temperature that was still rising. If they didn't get this under control, Billy wasn't going to live for very much longer.

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"What is it?" Ben's words were gentle but his expression was rather blank, the same as it had been for roughly four hours now. His eyes were close to shutting, his green orbs were fading in colour and broken like cracked glass and his skin was duller than grey. Everything about his complexion screamed sleep but everything inside his head screamed for help.

His eyes slowly drifted from looking at his boy, to look over at (Y/n) who was a few inches in front of him. They were both sat inches apart next to the incubator Billy was held within, neither of them had moved or even stood up from their seats for the past four hours. Billy had a temperature that kept on rising and had been put on a ventilator to help him breathe since it seemed to have become a fight that he was now losing.

He was sedated to keep him calm and let his body try and fight the infection, so both parents knew he wasn't going to be moving or wriggling or waking up anytime soon. But they still felt the need to watch over him as if they thought he was going to wake up and be perfectly fine.

If Billy got any worse, he wasn't going to survive and Ben and (Y/n) needed to be here in case he got any worse or even if he got better. They weren't leaving him when he was like this.

During these past few hours, the couple hadn't really said anything because there was nothing for them to say. Silence was their friend right now but Ben had broken that silence because he could see the wheels turning in (Y/n)'s mind. Every time she glanced over at him, there was something in her eyes that Ben had seen before, she wanted to ask or tell him something but she didn't know how to say it or how to approach the subject. It was just like a few months back when she wanted to talk about what they would do if Billy's health took a bad turn. That told Ben that whatever she was thinking, might not be something he would want to hear.

But he couldn't keep catching her staring at him, bursting to tell or ask him something without the courage to go through with it.

Tilting her head up, (Y/n) locked her burning, tired eyes with Ben's and she suddenly felt her stomach churning. She didn't want to say what was on her mind because she didn't want to think that the events would go down that route. But if things happened the way she thought they might, she would have to tell Ben sooner or later.

(Y/n) let her eyes cast downwards to look back at Billy as she slowly ran her hand over his small tufts of hair. Feeling how his skin was burning against her own like she had just rested her hand on a simmering pan.

"If the antibiotics don't work, I'd like to hold him before..." (Y/n) didn't have the guts to say it but she knew Ben would understand what she meant. Her voice was tentative and quiet, but her tone wasn't nearly as broken as how she felt by saying those dreaded words. If Billy didn't recover from this, (Y/n) wanted a chance to hold him before he passed away. She didn't want the first time she or Ben got to hold him to be when he was already dead. They had snatched him away the moment he was born and had locked him up in an incubator for the following days since his operation. If he wasn't going to survive, they should have the chance to hold him.

"Okay." Ben pressed his closed hand to his mouth as he looked back at Billy to try and stop himself from crying. He had shed far too many tears for there to be enough water left in his body by this point, he didn't want to shed anymore because each tear drained him to the point Ben felt like he was going to collapse.

"I, um... If he dies, I d-don't want him cremated, o-or to have a post-mortem." (Y/n) looked up at the ceiling as if it would magically stop the tears from falling or tip them into the back of her head but it didn't, and it did nothing for the way her throat crackled and croaked as she spoke up about her thoughts. (Y/n) didn't want her baby boy to be cut open any more than he already had been for his operation. If he passed away, the reasoning behind his death would be crystal clear, there would be no need to hurt him any more by cutting him up like butchered meat. (Y/n) wouldn't let them do that to him.

But the more she thought about it, the worse it felt because she didn't want Billy to be cremated either. She couldn't bear the thought of what would happen to him if he was cremated, the thought of flames flickering and licking at him made her want to scream. Burying him wasn't much of a better thought but it was something (Y/n) would just about be able to cope with if things went that way.

They could visit his grave if he was buried, they would be reassured that he would be safe in a coffin without being hurt or butchered any more. He would be at some sense of peace that way.

Ben didn't have the will power to say anything, his mind couldn't even fathom out what he was supposed to say in response to that, so he simply nodded in return. He agreed with what she was saying and he understood where she was coming from, he was fine with her wishes, even if he didn't want to talk or think about them just yet.

"Have we done the right thing?" (Y/n) whispered so quietly as she pressed her lips together in a thin line. Her vision blurred from the sudden downpour of tears that distorted Ben's image, but she couldn't help but feel like her conscience was now telling her off. Advising her or reprimanding her that what they were doing and had done might not have been in Billy's best interests after all.

"What do you mean?"

"I know he won't understand, b...but he's still got some kind of conscience, hasn't he? He was sedated the moment he was born and then after a big operation and finally waking up, he gets this. We chose this for him, w-what if we just chose to torture him?"

(Y/n) knew that no one could remember anything from being a baby or even from being a toddler. Their minds simply blanked those memories out because they didn't have proper thought processes or speech or the ability to understand what was happening around them. But the fact was that when Billy was awake, he must have some kind of conscience, he was awake and his brain was functioning and his eyes were taking in everything around him.

All he would have known was that the moment he managed to breathe and cry, someone put him into a deep sleep and he lost over a day of his life being under anaesthetic. He woke up to find his body had been cut open and stitched up and his body had to rewire and try and cope with such big changes. Then he found he couldn't breathe properly and was probably feeling some kind of discomfort before he was sedated after getting an infection. Now he wasn't even allowed to be awake in case he was in pain or distress.

If Billy died now, all he would have was two days of being awake and the rest of his short life would consist of being asleep and put through too much for his small body to cope with.

(Y/n) couldn't help but wonder if they had done the right thing because if Billy died now, she knew that they had done this for nothing. They had brought him into the world to die a week later and that was cruel in her eyes. A termination might have been kinder.

"This isn't a right or wrong situation, sweetheart. Abortion would have been easier but that wasn't necessarily right and giving him a chance isn't wrong or cruel. We took the chance and h-he's not been in pain. Everyone's brought into the world to die, this is no different."

Ben reached over and took (Y/n)'s hand in his own but his eyes fell back on his boy once again. They weren't doing a quiz, there was no right answer and no option that was wrong. They were in a situation where there was an easier and possibly kinder option, or a risky option that could give them what they wanted and they had every right to have Billy if they wanted to. They hadn't tortured him or put him through pain because he was sedated so he didn't feel distress, discomfort or any sort of pain. He wouldn't know what was happening and they had tried to give him a chance. In Ben's eyes, whether this worked or not, they had done something good by trying to help their boy.

No one was immortal, every parent had a child knowing that their child was going to die. They knew that their child could live to only five or twenty or fifty or even ninety, but no one lived forever. In Ben's eyes, people were born to die because the moment they were born, each second that ticked by was simply bringing them closer to their death.

It worried Ben sometimes, but in moments like these it helped him to understand. They weren't being cruel by giving Billy a chance because even if he only lived a week, he was still alive and he was just like everyone else.

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A faint, tight-lipped smile pulled at Ben's lips when his eyes tired but partially rested eyes landed on the nurse who was quietly entering the room. When they found out Billy had sepsis three days ago, they had moved him into a room on his own so they could monitor him better and so both parents could be alone with him.

Ben unravelled one arm from around (Y/n)'s waist so he could press his finger to his lips, watching the nurse nod in understanding to his silent plea.

There was a sofa beneath the window on the other side of the room but it was simply too far from Billy and (Y/n) had refused to move an inch away from him unless she had to use the bathroom or stretch her legs. Other than that she had sat as close as she could get the chair to be next to her boy. So Ben pushed his chair and her chair together, leaning back against his chair with his legs spread out over (Y/n)'s chair. He pulled her so she was laying between his legs and as he had expected, she had fallen asleep soon afterwards due to staying up through the nights to watch over Billy.

Now that she was sleeping, Ben didn't want to wake her unless he really had to. He had grabbed a few hours of sleep himself but he couldn't manage to sleep anymore, his brain was awake and it was fine to sit like this, but not to sleep like this. He had woken with his neck feeling like it was going to snap from resting on the back of the chair.

Ben's tired eyes followed the nurse, watching as she stood on the other side of the incubator to check on Billy. Every few hours someone would come in and check on his progress and tell them that he was much the same with no change and Ben was beginning to feel like that wasn't such a good thing. No change meant that the infection clearly hadn't gone to his heart but it meant it wasn't cleared up and it meant his fever wasn't gone either.

When Ben had sepsis he didn't have a fever like Billy but he had to stay in hospital for two months and he needed another month after that off work to recover. That was only a short while before Hugo was born and it had taken a lot out of Ben and it took him a while to get back to normal. So he knew that Billy wasn't going to have a speedy recovery, but just to know that the infection was gone would be something that showed they weren't at risk of losing him.

"How is he?" Ben pushed himself up a little higher so he was sitting straight, gently moving (Y/n) so she was still leaning against him as he didn't want to wake her up.

His eyes watched his boy who was still in the same position he had been for hours. He only moved when a doctor or nurse checked him over and made sure he had no more rashes or blue patches of skin to make sure the sepsis wasn't getting worse.

"His fever's gone."

Those three little words caused Ben's entire body to shake, especially his head as his eyes locked on the nurse who looked very surprised. Her own hands were shaking as she reached into the incubator and pressed the back of her hand gently against Billy's skin, clearly not trusting the monitors or her eyes like there had been a mistake in the readings. Ben couldn't quite remember how long it had been since the last doctor came in and checked Billy, but he did know that even though his temperature had gone down by two or three degrees, he was still burning up.

"Baby... baby wake up." Ben shook (Y/n)'s shoulder without letting his eyes move away from watching Billy as if he was expecting his youngest boy to suddenly start moving and wake up to show him that he really was okay.

"W-what... what's happened?" (Y/n) shook her head a little to try and wake herself up, her mind instantly snapping into overload as she knew if Ben woke her up then something must have happened.

"His fever's gone, he still has a temperature that's above normal, but he's not in any immediate danger now." The nurse couldn't help the broad smile that took over her face as she felt that Billy wasn't burning to the touch like he had been yesterday when she checked on him. He was still higher than they would like but with his temperature being nowhere near one hundred, it meant that he wasn't in any danger of his cells breaking down or his organs shutting down. He was at a safe temperature and if it kept going down it meant that the infection was clearing up.

"Fuck, me." Ben mumbled quietly as he rubbed his hands over his face, surprised at how badly he was shaking. He couldn't stop the smile that broke out on his face behind his hands at the prospect that Billy wasn't going to be in danger of passing away. They had been at the hospital for three days now and they had been at Billy's bedside because they knew that he was on the brink of passing away. They had been mentally preparing themselves for the moment they were told there was nothing else that could be done for him.

To hear that he was now getting better was a Godsend that Ben would never stop being grateful for.

The nurse grabbed a stethoscope and very gently placed the end under Billy's back to listen to his lungs to see how he was breathing.

"He's breathing much better as well. He still has to get rid of the infection and we'll need to check for any permanent damage, but I think it might be fair to say that you don't have to worry."

Turning herself around so she was facing Ben, (Y/n) brushed away the few tears leaving his eyes before he cupped her face in his trembling hands as he smiled a smile that she hadn't seen for a while. It was the kind of smile she remembered seeing when Ellie called him dad for the first time or when she said yes to marrying him. It was the smile he expressed when she told him she was pregnant with Billy.

"I told you he'd be okay." Ben whispered before he pressed his lips to hers with a sense of urgency. His thumbs brushed over her jaw and cheek as she could feel his tears mingling with her own.

Billy was going to be alright.

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #dad! ben #imagine #borhap #family ties

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fanficparker · 5 years

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Faking, Falling > Part 4

Harrison Osterfield x Reader (Fake dating! Unrequited love switcheroo!)

Word count: ~1.4k words

Warning: Angst, swearing.

Summary: He deserved it, right?

<< PART 3 [ MASTERLIST ] PART 5 >>

The next morning seemed brighter and lighter. After stretching your arms and groaning lightly, you already felt more energetic than the day before. Seeing the notification on your phone reading, '2 missed calls from Simon', you rolled your eyes, tossing the phone back on the bed and making your way to the shower.

"Your work is personally my favourite. I mean it doesn't look like you are any less than professionals."

The moment the warmth of the shower touched your skin, those words echoed in your head.

"You're just bluffing," You mumbled, smiling sheepishly while rubbing the shampoo off your hairs.

"Don't believe me but my fortune cookie did tell me that."

You almost jumped thinking you really heard him or that he was there. You looked around, feeling exposed but then relaxed finding no one.

Maybe Jade was right, I am a hopeless romantic.

* * *

You reached your workplace, eyes trying to find Jade and share the events of the last evening, but all you met was a grumpy Simon.

Huh...

"Did you sleep well last night, Y/n?"

You were just supposed to walk past him and do your job until he threw this taunt. You stopped at his words, ready to throw back violently.

"You know what---"

"Oh Y/n, Hi... I actually was searching for you."

You heard Harrison from the door and he almost ran inside the room.

"Yeah what's the work with me?" You ask Harrison, still eyeing at Simon.

"Yeah... It's hmm it's... ah... what was it... umm..." Harrison rubbed his neck giving side glanced to both you and Simon while, you waited for his response but all he did was 'umm-hmm'.

"Are you going to say something or fucking disturb our conversation?!" Simon snapped, completely irritated with Harrison's interruption.

"He's here to talk to me, he can take as much time as he needs." You reverse snapped at Simon and turned to face Harrison. And as gently as possible with a smile on your lips asked, "Yeah, what were you saying?"

"What seriously Y/n, you are taking his side?!" Simon grunted, throwing his head back. Harrison didn't like where this conversation was going. He bit the insides of his cheeks, afraid his message secret was soon going to be revealed.

"Taking his side? You ditched me on our date yesterday, Simon! He was the one who literally was there for me!"

Harrison squeezed his eyes shut, his nails lightly digging on the skin of his palms when he tightly clenched his fists. His heart was sinking, he wasn't ready for this.

"Oh ho ho, what? He was there for you? And I ditched, is this some kind of joke? The only thing I remember is me covering up for you the whole week after Harrison dumped you in that party and you were crying like crazy!!" Simon said and Harrison's stomach sunk.

Guilt... Yes, it was guilt. What he did to you wasn't justified in any way and yet you were practically never bad to him or anyone. But there was no time left to apologize, the balloon was filled beyond its capacity and ready to explode at any time. Simon's words embarrassed you. All these times you never let Harrison know that you were crying over him. But the thing was Harrison never apologized for what he did at that party yet... But maybe he has changed? Last night, he was genuine, right? He praised you, gave you company, made you laugh... Maybe that's his way of apologizing...

"You ditched me on our date, don't change the topic..." You said to Simon, preventing your eyes to meet Harrison's.

The sinking feeling in Harrison's gut was now interfering with his breathing process. He took in a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes. His vision was a bit blurry now, maybe because of the little tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. He rubbed his eyes from the cuff of his shirt and tried his best to keep his breathing steady. What was happening to him? He asked himself. He couldn't accept the fact that it was the end of this. After everything is revealed, there is no way you are going to forgive him and he has already accepted that he doesn't deserve forgiveness. Barely a week of post-production was left and realizing that you were leaving him, hating him forever was something he couldn't digest.

"I didn't ditch you, YOU DID!!! I was there sharp at nine-thirty, waited for a complete hour---" Simon couldn't complete when you interrupted.

"Nine-thirty? What will you do at nine-thirty? It was supposed to be at seven. I was the one there. Stop making up thing..."

"I messaged you about the change. You said you were good about nine-thirty. You are the one making up things, Y/n!" Simon's voice was pure irritatation. You narrowed your eyes at his allegations.

"If that was the case I would have got the messages, right? And I didn't and I have no idea what reply you are talking about." You said, folding your arms to your chest, rolling your eyes.

"Then what the hell is this?" Simon groaned, taking out his phone and showing you his inbox.

"What is wha---"

Harrison exhaled sharply. Yes, it all was finally over. No going back, nothing.

[ Yesterday ]

Simon [6:35 pm]: Hey Y/n. I m really sorry but I got stuck in some important work. Can we plz meet at 9:30 instead of 7?

Simon [6:35 pm]: Tell me if this works for you. And I m really sorry for changing the plans on last minute.

Simon [6:36 pm]: Waiting for your reply <3

Y/n [6:38 pm]: No problem. See you at 9:30 then.

Simon [6:38 pm]: Great. Can't wait to see you ;)

"But... How? I didn't get them, neither I replied..." You took your phone out showing it to Simon, none of the messages on your side of the inbox. You and Simon stood there confused while all Harrison did was stare at his shoes, his fingers anxiously fiddling.

"I-I... I really have no idea. Harrison was there with me and---" You stopped in your tracks, facing Harrison. As your eyes met his, all the dots were connected.

"You-you brought my phone back. Did you..." You trailed off, voice low. His gaze fell down again and you got the answer you were searching for.

"Why? Why did you do that?" You whispered but he didn't answer.

"Can anyone explain what's happening?" Simon said, dramatically waving his hand in front of your face.

You sighed, "Harrison messaged you and deleted them."

Simon almost chuckled but instantly stopped himself when you glared at him.

"I-I didn't mean to laugh. I was just shocked why you trusted him. Y/n, he's Harrison the same person who just loves to hurt you, the party, those messages. You are just too naïve but you need to really understand that he hates you---"

"I don't ha---"

The crack of skin contacting skin echoed off the walls. Vibrations of pain started at your palm. It was all happening way faster than you could ever think of. You gazed at your bright red palm that resembled the redness on Harrison's cheek. You had slapped Harrison Osterfield and you didn't feel any kind of remorse.

Harrison stared at you with his eyes wide as his hand slowly made his way to touch the stinging sensation on his face.

"I hate you Harrison Osterfield. I hate you so much!" Your voice was almost like a whisper but still sounded venomous. Harrison glanced at you and then at Simon, who gave him a teasing pout. Yeah, you did right. He had already done enough. He didn't utter a single word and left the room. All confusions clear, nothing holding any of you together.

———————————————–

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Faking, Falling - Haz x Reader Series:

@haz-the-divvy-div-div* // @avenirectioner // @kisses-holland // @tominhoodies // @hazarchive a.k.a @deleteidentity // @yourmum95 // @alt-ernativewonderland // @plumsfrombucharest // @justasmisunderstoodasloki // @thotsterfield // @osterfield-holland-andcompany // @tomhollandthing // @veronicas-littleworld // @still-awake-daydreaming // @fic-lover // @v-valz-n // @justchillinhereandthere // @peter-man-parker // @wizliar // @

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#harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield fic #haz osterfield imagine #haz osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield fanfiction #harrison osterfield oneshot #harrison osterfield series #faking falling

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captain-kingliamsqueen · 6 years

Text

Pinkie Swear! - Until We Meet Again - Part 7

A lot Shorter than usual but I hope you guys enjoy it!!

Pairing: Liam x MC

Summary: …DISTANCE MEANS SO LITTLE, WHEN SOMEONE MEANS SO MUCH!

When King Liam manages to break free from his Marriage to madeleine and takes a trip to new York for the biggest UN event of the century. What happens when his suitcase doesn’t make it to new York with him. when a stranger comes to his rescue to find appropriate clothing for the Event. What happens when he meets the woman of his dreams but she already has a home along with a Multi-billion dollar business in New York.

Word Count: 3,083

Masterlist

ASK IF YOU WANT TAGGED! SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE!

I always notice every single spelling mistake or issue after I’ve posted…so apologies in advance!

Apologies if the tags aren’t working, for some reason some are working and some aren’t :/

Liam spent the next twelve hours on the private jet, as soon as Bastian left his office, Liam found Allies number and informed her of what happened, he hated having to be the one to tell her, her sister had been hurt. Allie headed straight for hospital and promised she would keep Liam in the loop. As soon as she heard anything, she would let him know, she had been texting him throughout his flight whenever she heard anything at all.

Once Liam and Bastian departed the plane, they climbed into the waiting car ran his hands over his face with a sigh, he hadn’t slept in just over twenty-six hours. He was well and truly in need of sleep, but it was the last thing he could even think about, the only thing that was on his might in that moment was Kayliegh…was she okay…how did he get in?...did he managed to get away…or did they catch him?...was he going to be a continuous problem in her life…in their life?

He was brought out of his thoughts when his phone started ringing, as soon as he seen it was Allie, he answered it as quickly as he could.

“Allie, how’s she doing?”

“she’s out of surgery, they said it went pretty well, but I…there’s something they aren’t telling me, the doctor said that’s all he could say and that everything else would have to wait until she wakes.”

“but you’re her family, why won’t they tell you?”

“he just said it HAD to wait, he would only tell her.”

“alright…um have you seen her?”

“I’m just about to go in, she’s been in intensive care for a few hours, they wouldn’t let me in until they were sure she was safely out of the danger zone,”

“do you know if she’s awake?”

“the doctor said she’s still out for the count, she should wake up soon”

“okay” he let out a deep sigh “I shouldn’t be long, we’re about forty-five minutes away.”

“okay, I’ll see you soon”

“okay, see you soon, bye”

After the two hung up, Liam told Bastian what Allie had said on the phone, clueing him in on everything that happened.

When they reached the hospital, Liam and Bastian headed straight in, once they reached the front desk, quickly told the woman who they were there to see.

“I’m sorry sir, I can only allow family in”

“my-” before Liam could form a full sentence, he was interrupted by Allies voice behind him.

“it’s alright, Liam's family” she stated. The woman nodded with a smile then told him what room Kayliegh was in, he quickly joined Allie, then they headed upstairs, with Bastian in tow.

“how is she doing?”

“she woke up” she sniffled

“what happened?”

“she…she won’t say anything…she’s just curled up on the bed…”

“has the doctor spoken to her yet?”

“yeah he spoke to her not long after she woke, he made me leave the room and everything, she won’t tell me what he said.”

As they approached the door, Allie turned to Liam “I’ll let you have some time with her, I’m going to get a coffee and something to eat from the cafeteria, I won’t be long, can I get you anything whilst I’m down there?”

“tea would be amazing, Allie”

“Bastian?” she turned to the well-built man

“no thank you, mam”

Allie left to go to the cafeteria, whilst Liam turned to the door, he took a deep breath then entered the room, whilst Bastian waited outside.

As soon as he closed the door, he turned and seen her curled up on the bed. Liam quietly made his way over to the bed, taking a seat in the chair beside it. Liam placed his hand on top of hers, she refused to look at him. Her eyes were all red, it was obvious she had been crying.

“hey” he whispered sadly “will you talk to me?” he asked as he ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “I love you, Kayliegh”

“h-he d-done it a-again” she curled her hand around his as the tears cascaded down her cheeks. Her breathing started to deepen, like she was finding it hard to breathe. Liam quickly moved to her side, she moved over, giving him room to sit beside her. she moved to cuddle into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. she was absolutely heart broken, it distraught him to see her this way.

“shhh shhh, it’s alright sweetie, talk to me, tell me what he done sweetie? if you tell me I can help you.”

“L-Liam…I…I was pregnant” she cried

His heart broke, right then, in that moment, he had never felt so heartbroken…he was going to be a father…he and Kayliegh were going to be parents…he was having a baby with the woman he loved.

was.

past tense.

This…this monster took that from him…this monster took that from them!

He held her as tight as he could as they both cried together.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart…I’m so sorry” he cried as he held her tight. He couldn’t even imagine the pain she was going through…this is not the first but the second time, her dreams have been shattered…the second time this monster of a man stole her child from her.

“I promise…I promise you sweetie, we’re going to put him away…I promise you’re never going to have to see him again!”

“it’s hurts Liam…it hurts so much…my heart…it hurts my heart so much”

“w-will you take me home, Liam?”

“sweetie, you’re really hurt you need to stay in the hospital for now, but as soon as the doctor says you’re okay, I’ll take you home”

“no, Liam…when I get out of here…I want you to take me home…with you”

“with me?”

“yes” she nodded through her tears.

“if that’s what you want sweetie, of course”

“I…I need to get away from here…away from all of it…he’s here and as long as he’s here…I’m not safe”

“I promise, I’ll get you away from everything” he gently pecked her head.

It was about an hour after Liam went in that Allie came back, surprised to see Kayliegh up and actually talking.

Allie handed Liam a cup of tea as he stood from the bed whilst she sat herself down on the chair beside it.

“Kayliegh, can you tell me what happened?” Liam asked as he sat down at the end of the bed.

“h-he got in through the gate…there’s a lock underneath the speaker box outside the gate, it’s how I open the gate to get in when I’m coming home…I didn’t think he had the key still…I didn’t think…I should have thought!” she cried

“hey, this isn’t your fault, love”

“but-”

“but nothing! Kayliegh, this isn’t your fault…this is him…that fucking monster!”

“what happened after he got in?”

“when I went down to see what that noise was…the front door was sitting open, that’s why I shouted for you to call the place, but…he was already in, he grabbed me from behind, I got a couple of hits in, I’m pretty sure I broke his jaw” she lifted her arm showing her bandaged hand.

“good, he deserves that and more!!” Allie raged

“I just didn’t see the knife” she whispered

“I knew I should have stayed with you…you were already worked up about him being out…I should have stayed with you”

“Allie this isn’t your fault”

“I know but-”

“but nothing…he’s to blame, yes it MAY have been avoided…but what happened is his fault…he done it!”

“well, I’ll agree with you on that” Allie sighed

The two changed the subject and chatted between them, whilst doctors came In and out to check on Kayliegh. Whilst Allie talked to Kayliegh, Liam stepped outside to inform Bastian of what was going on.

“Liam…I’m so sorry” he gently placed his hand on the young king’s shoulder.

“she can’t go on like this, Bastian…he needs put away…for good! With no chance of getting out.”

“Liam…if I may be forward…the baby…the baby would have been the heir to the throne…and he-”

“treason” Liam whispered

“yes…he can be tried with treason”

“find out if he was caught...find out if the police caught him!” Liam sighed before heading back into the hospital room.

Kayliegh sighed as Allie yawned and stretched.

“Allie, go home”

“not in this lifetime, not whilst you’re in here”

“your sleep deprived, go home, you’re no use to me tired…Liam's here, he won’t go anywhere”

“promise you won’t leave her?” Allie sighed

“I promise Allie, I’m not going anywhere”

Allie was hesitant but finally headed home. Liam climbed up onto the bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her. she groaned as she shifted to cuddle him.

“how are you feeling?” he asked

“like someone stabbed me in the stomach” she mumbled

“you know, Bastian says we can put him away…with no chance of getting out” Liam informed her, she looked at him wide eyed.

“h-how”

“well…the baby…would have been the heir to the cordonian throne…by him doing what he did…he’s committed treason…he’s hurt a member of the royal family therefore we can try him with treason…and if we try him with treason…he gets life in a secure prison…with no chance what-so-ever of getting out”

“do it” she sniffled, wiping at her eyes trying to stop the tears falling.

“I have Bastian getting in contact with the police, Bastian is the best of the best, he will make sure we get him”

“thank you, Liam, for everything, if I wasn’t on the phone with you…I could still be lying there on that floor…dead…if you hadn’t called the police, I would have been screwed”

“I just wish I was with you…I wish I could have come running as soon as you told me you were scared.”

“Liam, please don’t beat yourself up over it, you helped save me…”

“I love you, Kayliegh…more than anything”

“I love you too, I love you so much, Liam”

“maybe you should get some rest” he whispered as he gently ran his fingers through her hair.

“promise you won’t leave my side?” she replied as she closed her eyes

“I promise” he smiled as he kissed her head.

They both drifted off into a light sleep, they stayed that way for a couple of hours, being woken when Bastian entered the room, and cleared his throat gently not the scare either of them.

“Bastian?” Liam mumbled as he rubbed his eyes, glad when he seen Kayliegh hadn’t woken up.

“Apologies for waking you, you’re Majesty, but I just finished dealing with the police, they have him…I told them of the situation, I have made arrangements for him to be transported to the prison in Cordonia, he will be tried as soon as you get home. I made arrangements with the kings guard to send a couple of men down to the prison and stand guard on his cell, he won’t be leaving anyone’s sight”

“thank you, Bastian…I owe you one”

“you owe me nothing, your Majesty” he bowed his head, then left the room.

Kayliegh spent the next week in the hospital, Liam stayed for a couple of days then he headed back to Cordonia to deal with Louis, he had asked Kayliegh if she would prefer to be there, he told her he would wait for her to be able to fly but she assured him, she never wanted to see Louis again, Liam made sure he would never see the light of day again, he had made arrangements for him to be sent to Alcatraz, Where he would be kept for the rest of his life, away from kayliegh. As soon as he was able, he headed back to the states in time for Kayliegh getting out of the hospital. Due to the wounds she had, her doctor advised her not the fly to Cordonia just yet, he told her once her stitches had properly closed her wound up, she would be fine, but whilst it was still technically an open wound, she shouldn’t go anywhere by plane. Liam told her he would organise for them to stay in a hotel, but she told him, she wasn’t going to let him run her out of her home, whilst she was in the hospital she had the security company come out and change the locks on the speaker box so that she, Liam and Allie were the only people with keys. When Liam returned, he headed straight for the hospital to meet Kayliegh before she got released so that he could take her home.

Once he reached the hospital, he headed straight for Kayliegh’s room where she was sitting up on the bed, ready and waiting.

“Hey, beautiful” he smiled as he handed her the cup of tea, he had brought up for her.

“hey, I missed you” she whispered sadly as she sipped at her tea.

“has the doctor been down to see you yet?”

“he came by this morning and said he would be by later, to let me know when I can go”

They waited for three hours for the doctor to come down to see her, when he did, he checked her over, giving her everything she would need to keep her wound clean along with an appointment for her to come back and have it checked over, he left the wheelchair he brought with him for Kayliegh to leave the hospital. Once that was done the doctor left the room. Liam placed one hand gently on Kayliegh’s lower back and took her hand in his other as he helped her from the bed. she groaned as she moved to stand.

“are you okay?” Liam asked, hating how much pain she was in.

“yeah, I’m okay” she nodded.

Once she had her jacket on, she sat down in the wheelchair, Liam placed her hold-all bag over his shoulder then pushed the chair out of the room, with Bastian walking just a short distance behind them. Once they reached the car, Liam helped her climb in, then he climbed in beside her, whilst Bastian got into the driver’s seat, then they headed to Kayliegh’s house. It took them around forty minutes to read the house, when they did, Liam helped her out of the car and in the front door. she stopped walking as soon as her eyes fell onto the spot it happened.

“are you sure you want to stay here?”

“yes” she whispered as she wiped under her eyes “I have to…this is my house…I can’t just never come back” she sighed, Liam helped her up the stairs and down to her bedroom. She changed into some pjs then she climbed into bed.

“are you hungry?”

“starving”

“okay, I’ll go find you something to eat, I’ll be back soon.”

“thank you” she whispered as she watched him walk out of the room.

Liam spent the next few weeks, flying back and forth between New York and Cordonia, whilst he was away Regina was helping him with meetings and work as much as she could, anything she wasn’t able to do, Liam was doing from across the pond. Physically Kayliegh was doing a lot better, her wound had closed up and she was able to fly, she was still in a lot of pain, but that was going to take some time to heal. Mentally she wasn’t doing so well…she wasn’t talking so much, she was spending her time curled up in bed. It was the morning before they were meant to leave for Cordonia. Kayliegh had managed to pack the things she needed with Liam's help. Allie had spent a lot of the past few weeks at Kayliegh’s house, helping pack and just spending time with her sister.

Both Kayliegh and Liam's hand luggage were already out in the car, Kayliegh was saying her goodbyes to Allie, before they headed to the airport. She looked at her sister, both with tears in their eyes.

“promise me you’ll come visit?” Allie sniffled

“I promise, I’ll visit you all the time” Kayliegh cried as she pulled her into her arms.

“I love you, Allie, I love you so much, I’m just a phone call away, alright, so if you need anything and I mean anything you just tell me, you can come and visit whenever you want…whenever you want you just ask and the jet will come and get you”

“I love you too, Kayliegh bear” Allie was broken, of course she didn’t want her sister to leave…but she what she wanted more than that was her sister to be happy…and she knew that moving to Cordonia would be the best chance for that to happen.

“now,” Kayliegh stepped back as she wiped her eyes “I’m not going to be here, this house is going to be empty…if you wanted to…you could stay here…whenever you want, the house is safe…you won’t have to worry about rent or-”

“Kayliegh…stop worrying…I’ll be fine”

“but…but you’re my baby sister and I’m supposed to make sure you’re okay”

“you did make sure I was okay…you made sure all my life that I was okay…now go make sure you’re okay”

“I’m gonna miss you so much” Kayliegh cried

“I know…I’m gonna miss you too, but remember I’m coming to see you in two weeks so you can show me around your new home…the palace…the best sites.”

“two weeks…you promise?”

“I pinkie swear” Allie stuck her pinkie out and with a smirk Kayliegh hooked hers around it.

“pinkie swear” Kayliegh sniffled as she wiped her eyes.

Liam cleared his throat then smiled as they both turned to face him.

“we have to go if we want to catch the flight, we only have a small time slot that the plane can take off”

“of course,” Kayliegh smiled as they all walked out towards the car, before climbing in, she pulled Allie into her arms one last time.

“I love you, Al”

“I love you too, sis”

Kayliegh kissed her cheek then she climbed into the car, closing the door behind her whilst Liam climbed in the other side.

They both waved at each other as the car drove down the driveway and out the gates.

As soon as Allie was out of sight, Kayliegh broke down crying again. Liam instantly wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.

“I know, sweetie, I know” he whispered as he ran his hand up and down her back.

Tagged : @starstruckzonkoperatorbat @drakelover78 @queencatherynerhys @devineinterventions2 @jayjay879 @kawairinrin @hopefulmoonobject @flyawayboo @gardeningourmet @blackcatkita @syltti78 @theroyalweisme @hhiggs @mfackenthal @barbaravalentino @pens-girl-87 @barbaravalentino @umccall71 @darley1101 @crookedslimecreatorpasta @jamjar84 @starstruckpixelberryhistoryvoid @speedyoperarascalparty @katurrade @scarlettedragon @zeniamiii @annekebbphotography @liam-rhys @perfectprofessorherokid @mynameiskaylabella @marywrites-things @zaffrenotes @cocomaxley @innerpostmentality @alepowell @missevabean @romanticatheart-posts @smalltalk88 @sarwin85 @lodberg @classylady1234 @liamxs-world @wannabemc2 @thequeenofcronuts @jared2612 @gibbles82 @carabeth @jovialyouthmusic @liamxs-world @blackcoffee85

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starfast · 5 years

Text

Cross the Kingdom- Ch 7

“Consider This Revenge”

Word Count: 5242

Read on Wattpad: Link

More about this project: Intro Post | Other Info

Three days went by much quicker than Crispin had anticipated. It had barely taken Ambrose any time at all to figure out where he had gone. When he came to Roger’s house in search of Crispin, only to find him sleeping peacefully upstairs Ambrose had decided to let him stay put. Ambrose still came in to check on him during the few days that Crispin had spent at Roger’s house, making sure that all of his injuries were healing properly.

Aside from his visits from Ambrose, Crispin hadn’t gotten up to much in those three days. He mostly spent his time up in his room getting lots of rest, which was a stark contrast to living on his father’s ship where he was always ready to spring into action at any given moment. He welcomed the change of pace, and savoured every moment he had to himself. Most of that had more to do with the fact that he was trying his best to avoid Rebecca. Every time he left his bedroom, she hounded him with questions that he didn’t really want to answer. Sometimes she would come in and check in on him while Roger was at work, but he’d always pretend that he was asleep so that she wouldn’t bother him. It left him feeling a little bit guilty, but he was really in no mood to be putting up with her and her never ending arsenal of questions.

Part of him seriously considered telling her the full truth about what had happened between him and his father, but he knew better. It wouldn’t really solve anything. It would only leave her with even more questions. She’d be angry for not telling her sooner, and Crispin had no patience to deal with that. It was probably better that she didn’t know. He didn’t fully trust her with that information anyways.

Finally, the third day had came. The thought of leaving left him feeling equal parts nervous and excited. He had lived in Coral Bay for the first thirteen years of his life, and then spent another three living on his father’s ship. He had never been away from the coast, and was rarely that far from Coral Bay. He was going to miss Roger too. Even when he was out at sea, he knew that his next visit with the man who had raised him was never far away. Once he left, Crispin couldn’t be sure when he would see him again. On the other hand, maybe spending some time further inland might not be such a bad thing. No one would know who his father was, and for once his reputation wouldn’t follow him.

He had started packing the few belongings that he had with him the night before.

Most of his belongings had been left on the Mad Maiden, but he had a couple sets of clothes that he always kept at Roger’s place. Aside from that, all he had were his throwing knives-- including the one that his father had tried to kill him with. He kept them all in their sheaths, which hung from his belt. He kept the one from his father tucked away in his bag for safe keeping.

Ambrose had told him that he should aim to be back at his ward around noon hour. It was half past eleven when Crispin had finished washing his hair, at Roger’s insistence. As far as Roger knew, Crispin was meeting his employer for the first time today. “You should at least try to make a good impression,” he had told him the night before, “I know you’re not going to be able to get that knife wound wet, but at the very least you should try to wash your face and your hair.” Crispin didn’t fight him on the matter. He simply agreed and promised Roger that he’d get to it in the morning.

He’d be cutting it close, he realised as he wiped his copper coloured hair dry. He grabbed his shirt and coat, draping the towel over his shoulders before he headed back to his room. He was just reaching out for the doorknob, when he heard Rebecca calling out to him from the other end of the hall. Crispin couldn’t help but to roll his eyes. Why did she have to wait to for the worst possible moment? “What?” He snapped as he pressed his back up against the wall, trying to keep his injured wing hidden. He had been able to retract his right one, but his left one was still wound up in the makeshift sling that Ambrose had fashioned for him. Crispin began to feel around for the doorknob, trying to get out of the conversation as quickly as he could.

“What time are you leaving?” Rebecca asked him, as she began walking down the hall towards him.

“Soon,” Crispin replied. His hand finally landed on the doorknob. He opened the door, stepped backwards into his bedroom before shutting the door between him and Rebecca.

He sighed, grateful to have Rebecca out of the way. He felt only a little badly about trying to avoid her, but he would make sure to say a proper goodbye to her when he left. He flopped down onto his bed, lying on his side so that he didn’t hurt his wing any more than he already had.

The door flung open and Crispin spun around to see Rebecca standing in his doorway. “What do you want?” He snarled as he frantically pulled his damp towel around his torso, trying once again to hide his wing.

“Why are you like this,” She demanded, “Why does it seem like you’ve been avoiding me ever since you arrived?”

“Maybe because I have been,” he said, shrugging unapologetically.

“What’s gotten into you?” She asked, shaking her head, “We used to be so close when we were younger, and now you’ve spent the last three days avoiding me. What’s wrong with you?”

Crispin sighed. They had been much closer when they were younger, but once Crispin had developed his powers he found himself growing distant from her. Part of him found dealing with his powers to be very exhausting, and even though it had been his choice not to tell her it was a decision that he stood by. He had no idea how she would react, and even if she did take the news well she wouldn’t understand it. He had never meant for for them to grow so distant but the less he spoke to her the less inclined he would be to slip up.

“Look,” he said, “sorry for avoiding you and all, but I’ve had a really, really rough past couple of days.”

“You say that and yet you haven’t told me everything that happened,” Rebecca said, folding her arms.

“Maybe because it’s none of your business,” Crispin snapped, “It doesn’t concern you, and I don’t want you getting involved.”

“Yeah, but why not?” She demanded, “We used to tell each other everything. You’ve changed so much.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, “I don’t know how to tell you this, but people have a tendency of doing that.” He grabbed his shirt, which lay in a crumpled ball at the foot of his bed. “I’ll tell you what I can, but can you at least let my get my shirt on?”

“Fine,” She said.

Crispin backed up closer to the wall. He held the towel in place before quickly pulling his shirt over his head. “Alright,” he said, “I got into a fight with my dad. A really, really bad one. It turned violent, and he tried to kill me.”

“What were you arguing about that was so bad that he tried to kill you,” Rebecca asked.

“I’d really rather not say.”

“Oh come on,” Rebecca said throwing her hands up in frustration.

Crispin sighed. “Look, do you want me to tell you this or not? Because if you’re going to be like that, then I’m just going to leave.”

Rebecca let out an impatient huff. When she didn’t say any more, Crispin continued. “I ran away after that, and wound up here and tried to get to your place. I was injured really badly though, and Ambrose noticed and took me in. We got talking and I started telling him about what happened with my father,” When he noticed her annoyed glare, he quickly added, “I didn’t tell him everything. Just that he tried to kill me. He mentioned to me that he has a friend who works on a train and was looking for an assistant. So I told him that I was interested in the position. I think my father thought that he did kill me, and that’s why he told you I killed myself. If he finds out I’m still alive, he’ll probably finish the job.”

“You pretty much told me everything I already know,” Rebecca remarked.

Crispin shook his head. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you,” he said, “But right now, I’m just not ready to talk about it.” He had no intention of ever telling her anything, but the comment seemed to shut her up. Finally.

“Do you think you’ll ever come back here?” She asked.

“I think so,” Crispin said, “I mean, we’ll see. But I need to wait until things with my father dies down a little bit.”

“I’m going to miss you,” Rebecca said. Before he could respond, she flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

Crispin tensed up as her hand brushed up against his wing. He froze in a state of panic, hoping that she wouldn’t notice. She hadn’t seemed to notice the last time, after all. But when he felt her hand patting up and down his injured wing that was when he knew that the one event that he had worked so hard to avoid was beginning to play out.

“What...?” She murmured

Crispin pulled away. He pulled on his jacket and grabbed his bag. “I need to go,” he said briskly, “I’m going to be late.”

“What’s going on,” Rebecca asked, as she chased after him.

He ran down the stairs, trying to get to the door as quickly as he could. He decided it was best just to ignore her. He pulled on his boots, but Rebecca stood in front of the door, blocking his only way out.

“I’m not letting you leave until you tell me what’s going on,” She said.

“Oh for fuck sake,” he snarled, “I’ve already told you everything.”

“You’re still hiding something,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, I am,” Crispin said, “But I already told you, you don’t need to know everything, ok? I really don’t have time for this!” He was trying to buy himself some time. He knew Rebecca well enough to know that she wasn’t going to let him pass until he gave her a straight answer. Crispin racked his brain trying to find some sort of excuse that would explain the extra bulk beneath his shirt that she had felt, but he couldn’t come up with anything.

He wasn’t going to give in so easily. Rebecca probably had secrets that she kept from him, and he was entitled to that same right. Just because they grew up together didn’t mean that she had to know everything that was going on in his life.

Crispin shoved his way past her, pushing her away from the door and into the wall. He hadn’t really wanted to escalate to this point. He wanted to leave on good terms, but she had backed him into a corner and left him with no other choice.

“I already told you everything that I was willing to tell you,” he said, “Sorry that wasn’t good enough for you. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“You’re unbelievable,” was the last thing that Rebecca said to him, before he left the house and slammed the door in her face.

It was deceptively cold out. The sun shone down over the coastal city and there was not a single cloud in the sky. It almost looked like it could be summer, but the chilly weather served as a reminder that it was still the middle of fall.

Crispin shoved his balled fists into his pockets to keep his fingers warm as he walked at a brisk pace down the streets of Coral Bay. He made his way past lines of brick buildings, trying not to think about his final conversation with Rebecca. It wasn’t how he had wanted to part ways. He thought about turning back and apologizing, but he was already going to be cutting it close. He could afford to be a few minutes late, but he didn’t want to keep Frank and Ambrose waiting. It would have to wait for another day, he decided as he made his way down the narrow side streets.

He found his way out to the Harbour Strip. During the day, the Strip was always bustling with activity. Throngs of people made their way down the strip, either heading to and from the Coral Bay Harbour which lay at the very west end of the strip. Rows of shops and inns lined one side of the wide, cobbled road. The other side remained empty, providing an unobstructed view of the vast sea that seemed to stretch on for eternity.

Crispin walked down the Strip, getting jostled by the crowd as he headed towards Roger’s tavern, the Clockwork Crow. He made a conscious effort to try to avoid bumping into anyone. Normally, he didn’t care. The Strip’s main road always seemed far too narrow to accommodate the crowds of people that always seemed to be there. This time though, he was trying to avoid hurting his shoulder again. The pain had died down a lot over the past few days, but it still hurt when he poked at it. While it had yet to happen, he knew that the pain would be almost unbearable if he accidentally bumped into someone.

He finally reached Roger’s tavern. The sign for the Clockwork Crow swung gently from the soft autumn breeze. The door opened with a loud creak, though no one inside the noisy tavern appeared to notice. Much like the street it sat on, the Clockwork crow was bustling with activity. People sat at tables, chatting with their friends as they shared a pint of ale. It was a little early for most people to be getting drunk, though that hadn’t stopped some people as they giggled and shouted amongst their peers.

Crispin spotted Roger manning the bar counter. Roger was too caught up in his work, to notice as Crispin came traipsing in. As he began sauntering towards the bar counter, Roger finally saw him. He had just finished serving some patrons who sat on the tall bar stools when he had stepped back and locked eyes with Crispin. Rather than greeting him with his regular friendly smile, Roger’s eyes widened with panic and motioned for him to turn back.

Puzzled, Crispin took a step backwards but he was too late. A tall figure emerged from the shadows of the very back corner of the room. The whole tavern fell silent as the man stood on the opposite side of the tavern glaring at Crispin with a look instilled fear into many. But not Crispin.

“Hello father,” He said with a smug grin, “Miss me?”

Marcus didn’t respond right away. He continued staring Crispin down with a look that could kill. But even from afar, Crispin could spotted the calculating look in his father’s icy stare. It was the same look that he got when they started coming up with a plan to attack enemy ships. Crispin didn’t back down though. He stood tall, or as tall as someone who barely scraped past five feet could manage, and held his ground.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face here,” Marcus growled.

“And why’s that?” Crispin said taking a daring step towards his father, “Because you already told the crew that I killed myself? Since that’s clearly not true, why don’t you tell them who really made the attempt on my life that night?”

Marcus pulled out one of his throwing knives. “Keep talking,” he snarled, “Keep talking, boy and I’ll do it. You know I will.”

A sly grin played across Crispin’s face. “Then fight me.”

“No, no,” he heard Roger shout in protest, “Don’t do this, you two!”

Neither Crispin nor his father heeded Roger’s warning. Marcus stormed across the room like an angry bull towards his son. Crispin remained rooted to his spot, his feet planted firmly to the wooden floor. “Never make the first move in a fight,” His father had told him once. Crispin had always followed that advice when he could. For the most part, it had brought him some good results in various fights.

Marcus raised his fist, ready to strike at him with his knife. As he brought the knife down, Crispin grabbed at his wrist using all the strength that he had to stop the knife from getting anywhere near him. Despite his best efforts, he was no match for his father. Even at the best of times, his father had always been a much better fighter. With all of his injuries, Crispin couldn’t hold his father back and the sharp tip of the knife came closer and closer to him by the second.

Crispin swung his leg up, kneeing his father in the stomach. It hadn’t been a particularly hard blow, but his father was caught off guard and that was all that he needed. His father doubled over, dropping the knife to the floor. Crispin kicked it away, sending it skittering across the ground.

At this point, the whole tavern was watching. A few people even cheered, egging the pair on. From the back of the room where the crew of the Mad Maiden had been sitting with their Captain, a cheer broke out. “Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” They banged their fists on the table, in time with their cheering.

Before Crispin could make his next move, Marcus swung his fist and punched Crispin square in the face. Crispin ignored the blood that streamed out of his nose and trickled over his mouth. He’d had far worse. A simple punch to the face was not going to stop him.

The blow left Crispin dazed, as though his father had quite literally knocked the sense out of him. Crispin swung his fist, hoping to land a punch the same way his father had done to him but he missed his target and his father grabbed his wrist. Before he could even reach for one of his knives, Marcus shoved Crispin to the ground. Crispin lay on his back with the wind knocked out of him. There was a searing pain that ran up and down his injured wing and it was only then that Crispin remembered Ambrose telling him that he should refrain from getting into fights. Well, it was too late now. All he could do now was hope that he hadn’t inflicted too much damage upon himself.

Marcus unsheathed his broad, curved sword. He raised the blade high above his head, ready to bring it down at any second. Crispin watched him, ready to duck out of the way at any given moment.

He kept his eyes locked on his father for what felt like an eternity as he waited for even the most subtle shift in his father’s weight that told Crispin that he was about to strike.

“Any last words?” His father asked in a low voice.

Crispin was about to open his mouth to deliver what he didn’t actually think would be his last words, but it was Roger who spoke instead.

“No!” He shouted, “No! I won’t allow this!” He grabbed at Marcus from behind, and pulled him away, “It’s too damn early for this!”

Crispin stared with his eyes wide in disbelief as he watched Roger restrain Marcus. In all his years, he had never seen Roger get physical with anyone. Crispin had always seen him as this gentle and down to earth fatherly figure who wouldn’t even hurt a fly. It probably was not the first time he had done something like this, given Coral Bay’s reputation. Roger had told Crispin about many drunken customers who had stepped out of line, but he never talked about having to do anything other than yelling at them until they left.

“Have you gone mad, Roger?” Marcus said through a clenched jaw as he tried to free himself from his friend’s tight hold.

“I won’t let you do this,” Roger grunted, using every bit of strength to prevent the much stronger pirate from breaking free, “He’s hurt, god dammit! You should be bloody ashamed of what you did!” He locked eyes with Crispin. “Go Crispin,” he said, “You need to leave.”

Crispin scrambled to his feet, and wasted no time getting to the door. “Goodbye, Roger,” he said, “Tell Rebecca I’m sorry about this morning.”

“I will,” Roger said, “Good luck, my boy.”

“And Dad,” Crispin raised his voice, hoping that his next words would reach the ears of the crew, “I’ll never forgive you for trying to kill me and telling everyone it was a suicide. Fuck you.” He would have loved to have seen his father’s reaction, but he could tell that it was growing more and more difficult for Roger to hold him back.

Crispin flung the door open and started running down the street as fast as he could manage. He pushed people out of the way as he made his way down the strip, before he ducked into a narrow side street. It would be a less direct route, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about pushing people out of the way. When his entire body seemed to ache he slowed to a walk. He paused for a moment, leaning against a building as he tried to catch his breath. Crispin held his hand up to his nose in an attempt to stop the blood from dripping down his front any more than it already had. When it didn’t let up, he continued making his way to Ambrose’s place.

Crispin staggered his way down the road, which brought him just outside of the ward.

A tiny bell rang above the door as he pushed the door open. He could hear two men talking to each other as he walked slowly towards the source of the voices.

“That must be him now,” He heard Ambrose say. A door at the end of the long hallway creaked open and Ambrose stepped out with another older man close behind him.

Ambrose’s face immediately fell when he saw Crispin. “Oh, Crispin,” he said, “What have you done?” He shook his head before ushering Crispin into one of the rooms.

The room was identical to the one that he had woken up in three days ago. White walls, white ceiling, a window with dark curtains and a small metal cot next to a wooden bedside table.

“Sit down,” Ambrose ordered, gesturing to the bed.

Crispin sat down. “I’m sorry,” he said in a muffled voice.

“It’s fine,” Ambrose sighed, “Let’s just hope nothing else is broken.” He opened the door slightly and called out, “Frank, could you do me a favour and get me a damp cloth? Thank you so much.”

Ambrose pulled up a chair and sat in front of Crispin. “I thought I was very explicit when I told you to take it easy,” He said disdainfully.

“I was,” Crispin protested, “I promise!”

“So how did this happen,” Ambrose asked as he folded his arms across his chest, “Did you fall out of bed?”

“Yes,” Crispin said. He knew that Ambrose was being sarcastic, but he decided to see if he could get away with it anyways. Ambrose had made it very clear that he wanted Crispin to get lots of rest, but he had specifically mentioned to avoid getting into fights with anyone. Marcus Hadley was the one person that he had singled out and told Crispin to just steer clear of, which meant that Crispin had gone and gone and done the one thing that Ambrose had asked him not to do.

“Come on Crispin,” Ambrose said, “We both know that is not what happened.” He shook his head a second time. “I never should have let you stay with Roger.”

The door opened and Frank stepped in with the damp cloths that Ambrose had requested.

“Thank you,” Ambrose said as he took one of the cloths from the older man’s gnarled hands. “You can stay here if you want,” He added, “But I’m afraid I’m going to need a moment to tend to Crispin.”

“Of course,” Frank said, “If you need me to get anything else, just let me know.” He stayed by the door, with his hands behind his back as though he were waiting for more orders from Ambrose.

Ambrose took the cloth and dabbed away at the blood that was caked on to Crispin’s face.

“Well,” he said finally, “It doesn’t appear to be broken, so we have that to be thankful for. Is there anything else that’s hurting you? And please be honest this time.”

“No,” Crispin said, “The fight got broken up before my father could do any real damage.”

Ambrose let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m going to pretend like that’s a joke,” he said, “Because if I recall correctly, I told you that you should steer clear from your father if he happened to be in town.”

“But for what it’s worth,” Crispin countered, “I told you that I was going to beat the shit out of him if I ever saw him again. And it’s not like I went looking for him. I didn’t even know he was in town.”

“You don’t like being told what to do, do you?” Ambrose remarked as he dabbed the last bit of blood off of Crispin’s face.

“Well you did tell me to get lots of rest,” Crispin pointed out, “Which I did do.”

“That doesn’t really matter if you go out looking for a fight the moment you leave the house,” Ambrose said, “I shouldn’t have let you go.”

“I wasn’t looking for a fight,” Crispin said, “And I’m glad you let me stay with Roger.” The three days that he had spent resting up at Roger’s place had been exactly what he needed after the recent events. In addition to getting plenty of rest, he spent a great deal of time talking with Roger, who always seemed to know exactly what to say to make him feel better.

“Right,” Ambrose said dryly, still evidently regretting his decision. “Let’s just do what we came here to do, ok? Crispin this is Frank. Frank, Crispin.”

Frank stepped forward and extended a hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said as he shook Crispin’s hand. “Ambrose has told me quite a bit about you.”

Crispin’s brow creased. He hadn’t known Ambrose for very long, so what exactly had Ambrose been telling him? Crispin knew that he had a reputation around Coral Bay; a side effect of being the son of one of the most feared pirate captains. He wondered how much Frank knew about him at this point, and how much of it was just speculation on Ambrose’s part.

Nonetheless, Crispin managed to force a smile and say, “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“Ambrose told me you’ve found yourself in a bit of a bad situation,” Frank remarked.

“I find that tends to happen a lot,” Crispin said. He had endured a lot of bad situations, as Frank had put it, aboard his father’s ship. Getting into fights, either on the ship or on land, was almost part of his daily routine. The night he had escaped from his father hadn’t even been his first near death experience.

“Well,” Frank said, “You should be safe with me. We’re pretty secluded, as I’m sure Ambrose mentioned to you. I’m sure you won’t find it so hard to stay out of trouble.”

“Well,” Ambrose sighed, nodding towards the bloodied cloth that he had used to clean up Crispin’s face that now lay on the bedside table, “Good luck with that.”

“Hey,” Crispin said, “I’m trying my best, ok?” When Ambrose raised his eyebrows in disbelief, Crispin quickly added, “Well, for the most part.”

“Alright then, Crispin,” Ambrose said, “How about you prove to me that you’re not the little trouble maker that everyone seems to think you are.” He reached into his pocket of his heal, and pulled out a sealed envelope. He handed it to Crispin.

Crispin took the envelope, studying it curiously. There was no name or address written on it. It was just a plain, cream coloured envelope sealed with red wax.

“It’s a letter I wrote for my daughter,” Ambrose explained, “I want you to deliver it to her. You’ll be in the train for most of the journey, so I trust that you won’t find this too difficult.”

Crispin tucked the envelope into the pocket of his coat. “I think I got this.” He said confidently.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” Ambrose said, “I’m looking forward to hearing back from my daughter.”

Crispin flashed a smug grin at the healer. He hadn’t made a great impression with Ambrose by doing the one thing he had been told not to do. Crispin still didn’t see how the fight had been his fault-- it wasn’t like he had planned on running into his father, and his father would have hurt him regardless of what he said or did. Still, he was determined to make amends with Ambrose. After everything that he had done to help him, the very least that Crispin could do was deliver the letter.

Frank finally mentioned that it was about time to get going. “I’d love to stay a little longer,” he said, “But we’ve got a long journey ahead of us, and we’re already a bit behind schedule.” He said a quick goodbye to Ambrose, before heading out the door, but Crispin hung back a bit.

“I just wanted to thank you for helping me,” He said to Ambrose.

“I’m a healer,” Ambrose said, “It’s what I do.”

“Was that the only reason that you did it?”

Ambrose was silent for a moment. “No,” He said, “I did it for my daughter. I wasn’t able to help her when the Patrol took her, but if I can do anything at all to prevent that from happening to anyone else then I’m at least going to try.”

Crispin nodded, but before he could reply, Ambrose spoke up.

“You should get going now. Frank’s waiting.”

“Of course,” Crispin said with a nod. He rose to his feet, and stepped out of the room where Frank had been waiting. He followed the man towards the door, looking back just in time to see Ambrose heading into the back room. The healer met his gaze and gave him a reassuring smile before closing the door.

Frank opened the front door, the bell chiming as it had when Crispin had entered. He held the door open as Crispin stepped out into the street, ready for the long train journey that lay ahead of him.

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