#But I needed to tell this bit of Malik straight up because that just made the most sense | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imthebadguyyy · 4 years ago

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That's Our Baby !

Y/N L/N is the sixth member of One Direction, the biggest band in the world. When one of her best friends announces he's leaving, how do they cope?

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Sat in the studio, Louis and Y/N fiddled around with the guitars and drums present in the little room. They had been given the task of songwriting for their 5th album, and had gone on their songwriting getaway to the Maldives, along with Liam. They had been accompanied by other songwriters as well as producers.Niall and Harry had decided to stay back and join the songwriting trip later. So while they remained in LA, relaxing, the other three decided to get a head start on the writing.

"Hey Lou, what about "how many nights did it take to count the stars, that's the time it would take to fix my heart?"

" I like that. Maybe after that for like a chorus bit we could have something like, " if I tried, I know it would feel like infinity?"

"Yeah ! Like we can work on that a little more, but if we work with this, we can make a song out of it"

" We'll have to tell Liam too, he was so upset when we wrote Never Enough without him"

Laughing, the two walked into the kitchen of their rented villa, were Liam was sat with Patrick, one of their producers and lyricists. The villa was a beautiful one, with a view of the sea and the beach, and was the perfect place to come to make music. Y/N had picked it out, claiming that only a beach and sea air would really help them right truly outstanding music because "it's what our fans deserve Li!"

And so far, they had written nearly 5 songs, all finished during the early hours of the morning, as they videocalled the other two to let them know of their progress. It had been about 2 weeks since Zayn had announced that he was leaving the band, and even though they supported him publicly, secretly, Y/N was hurt. But she did a marvelous job of hiding it. In fact, she had suggested the holiday so that she could take time to cope with it herself. Harry and Niall were supposed to arrive the next day, when they would start recording the album in their little studio.

Having spaced out of the conversation in the kitchen, she jumped when she heard her name being called, and Liam looking at her with a concerned look in his eyes. " you alright babe ?"

"Yeah I'm fine, just really hungry"

Patrick chimed in saying "there's a great kebab place here, that has the best cocktails you could ever have with the most succulent kebabs too. And you have to try their mango chutney"

"That sounds great! Let's go then" Louis said, feeling his tummy growl as well.

"Wait I need to comb my hair and change my clothes !" Y/N exclaimed, running up to her room. She brushed out her wavy/curly/straight hair and pulled on a pretty newspaper print top and denim shorts. She put her sunglasses, phone, wallet and mini sunscreen in her bag, and pulled on her brown strapped sandals.

Running down, she stopped to look in the mirror, and joined the other 3 at the door. Julian, their other producer, was waiting as well, and smiled upon seeing her make her way to the door. "Come on Y/N ! We're all really hungry"

"Yeah yeah I'm coming. All this doesn't happen magically you know" she said, waving a hand around her face.

Laughing the group of 5 made their way to the Kebab shop, and enjoyed their fabulous meal of kebabs, rotis, and cocktails.

Halfway through their meal, Y/N heard her phone blow up with notifications. Slightly surprised, she pulled it out of her purse.

Opening it, the first thing she saw was 789 notifications fron Twitter, 345 from Instagram, and her WhatsApp blowing up. Slightly shocked she opened Twitter, to be met with the headline, "ZAYN MALIK'S TELL ALL INTERVIEW - THE FORMER BAND MEMBER OF ONE DIRECTION SPILLS THE BEANS ABOUT HIS EXPERIENCE IN THE BAND"

The first paragraph talked about how he didn't like the music they were making.

The second about how he didn't feel included.

The third about how he was never happy.

The fourth about how he struggled with anxiety.

Suddenly overwhelmed, Y/N couldn't breathe. Her chest was contracting and her eyes were burning. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe. Her mind was running too fast and an overwhelming sense of panic and fear was running through her heart. Louis, turning to look at her noticed how she was starting to shake.

Startled, he wrapped an arm around her and gently pushed her hair out of her face.

" you alright love ?"

Liam turned to look at her too, concern visible in his brown eyes.

"N/N you're shaking! What happened?!" He asked instantly moving over to give her a hug. Tears began to roll down her cheeks as her vision blurred completely and she tightened her arms around Liams chest as Louis gently played with her hair.

"Zayn said he wasn't happy! He said that he didn't like the music we made together"

Exchanging a look, Louis sighed and gently pulled her closer to him. "He didn't mean that babe. I promise he's alright"��

"NO lou, he isn't alright. If he was okay and happy, he wouldn't have left. He would still be here. I know I sound selfish, but I thought we were supposed to be together as BAND for a long time. And we were supposed to be friends forever. Now you don't even talk to him, and he doesn't want anything to do with us. If you think that alright, then fine. But I don't think it is" she said, voice breaking as she turned to look at Louis with watery eyes. Patrick and Julian quietly sat there, unsure of how to deal with the situation. They understood why the girl was upset. She had been incredibly close to Zayn, and he had considered her a younger sister. When he had left, Y/N had curled up into her little shell even more, and had lost some of her happy go lucky, bubbly personality. They all felt it.

"Alright, I think we should go home now. It's nearly midnight anyway. Let's get some sleep and we can talk this over with Harry and Niall tomorrow. But you need your sleep darling. Come on let's go" Liam said, helping her get to her feet and wrapping an arm around her waist while Louis paid the bill. They made their way home and Y/N crashed onto her bed, tired out from the crying.

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"You're telling me that she had an anxiety attack and cried because of that interview ?" Niall asked, shock written over all his features. His blue eyes had crinkled with worry when he had heard about Y/N's breakdown from Louis and Liam, and his heart had gone out for the baby of the group.

Harry had remained silent, unsure of how to respond. He absolutely adored Y/N, and the thought of her crying made him sick to his stomach.

"Yes Niall. She cried and sobbed and said that we were supposed to stick together and all that. It was quite painful to watch really" Louis responded, still slightly shaken by Y/N's breakdown. Liam nodded eyes flickering up to the staircase as he heard her door open.

Awoken from her sleep, Y/N made her way down, rubbing her eyes, perking up instantly when she heard Harry and Niall's voices in the kitchen. Walking down she saw the boys, Liam standing near the sink with a cup of coffee in hand, Niall sitting at the table with a plate in front of him, Harry standing near the fridge with a slight frown on his face, long hair in a bun and Louis standing in front of the stove , frying some eggs. When she walked into the kitchen, she was instantly engulfed in hug by Harry, his long lanky figure wrapping around her shorter one. "You okay darling?" He asked, green eyes crinkled with worry.

"Yeah I'm alright I guess" she responded leaning into the hug. Pulling away, she went to hug Niall, engulfed once again a different hug, a small whine coming from Harry as she turned. Giggling she turned to him and said, " do you wanna cuddle ?"

"Yes !" The long haired man exclaimed, running up the stairs to go to her bedroom. Wrapping her hands around Niall and Liam's, she motioned to Louis to come and join them as well.

"Group cuddles!" She cheered as she led them up the stairs. Harry had already laid down on her bed, arms held out to the woman. She giggled and climbed onto the bed too, letting him wrap his arms around her waist. Niall was the next to join, moving closer to her tummy, as he rested his head on her belly and wrapped his arms around her legs. Louis moved to her other shoulder, resting his head on top of hers as he played with her long locks. Liam shuffled to the spot near Harry's legs, resting his head on her right thigh, and wrapping his arms around her legs as well.

All smushed together on the bed, they laughed and giggled for a while, as Y/N played with Niall and Liam's hair, and Harry traced figures on her collarbone and arms. Louis played with her hair, lulling her into a soft sleep. And as they all dozed off, Niall lifted his head to whisper one final sentence before they fell asleep. " that's Our Baby"

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END.

This fic was longer than I expected.

Hope you liked it!

#harry styles x reader #niall horan x reader #liam payne x reader #louis tomlinson x reader #one direction #harry styles #niall horan #liam payne #louis tomlinson #zayn malik #Y/N #one direction fanfiction #one d imagines #one direction imagines #imthebadguyyyfics

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we-are-inevitable · 4 years ago

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so i'll try to talk refined // javid (ch. 1)

A/N: this is so self indulgent holy fuck

WARNINGS: implied sexual content, drunken flirting, one night stands

SUMMARY: It was supposed to be a one night stand. One night, one too many drinks, one stupid decision that wouldn't have an actual effect on anything David cared about, aside from giving him a much needed night off.

But, when his one night stand turns out to be a new every day part of his life for the foreseeable future, David has... some choices to make.

For starters: choose to ignore his obvious attraction to the muralist working in his library, or choose to face the challenge head on.

If only he knew how to navigate this plot twist.

Tag List: @tarantulas4davey @oof-musicals @panicky-pancakes (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

Read On AO3!

David has never seen someone as gorgeous as the man sitting across from him at the bar.

Maybe that’s a somewhat straightforward statement. David has seen a lot of gorgeous people- he grew up in New York City, for crying out loud; he falls in love with someone new on the sidewalk every day, it seems. There’s just… something about this guy, though, that David is more than a little attracted to.

It’s probably his hair. David has always been a sucker for curls, and this guy’s hair is so curly on the ends- but he has a middle part, and his bangs-but-not-really-bangs are more wavy than curly, and it’s swooped back like some popular guy from the 90’s, or, like... Zayn Malik circa late 2014. Either way, David is loving it.

But that isn’t the only aspect of this guy that he’s loving.

For one, his eyes are the most striking golden brown that David has ever seen, and his tan skin is shining beautifully underneath the gaudy, in-your-face lights in the bar. If David stares hard enough, he can make out freckles dotting the expanse of his face, spread across a sharp jawline and even sharper cheekbones.

Needless to say, David is in love. Not literally, of course- David and ‘love’ don’t really mix well- but he’s never not going to be thinking about Random Guy in the Bar, so it’s kind of the same thing, right?

David almost considers going over to talk to him, but he falters. This is a... regular bar, probably, not one of the many gay bars David frequents, and he’s probably a straight guy with a low tolerance for getting hit on by dudes but, also, it’s 2021, and David is a little tipsy, so what’s really the harm in going over to talk to Random Guy? He might get punched, yeah, but David has taken worse. Much worse. There was that time in high school, when he kissed his boyfriend in the hall and was--

No, no, now is time to think happy thoughts, Tipsy David reminds himself.

Tipsy David is a lot braver than Sober David, and as he stands from his barstool and makes his way over to Random Guy, Tipsy David hopes that Sober David won’t have a black eye in the morning.

He takes in a deep breath as he approaches, but puts on a brave face as he comes up next to the guy. “Excuse me,” He starts, and pauses as the man whips around, eyes widening just slightly, and, oh, God, he’s even hotter up close. “I know this is a shot in the dark, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t tell you how attractive you are,” David says, as nonchalantly as he’s able to, while he leans against the bar counter.

The man stays silent for a few moments, and David can practically see the gears turning in his mind- before he’s flashing a megawatt smile at David and saying, “Thanks, man. That means a lot.”

Oh, sweet Jesus, that accent is thick. It’s classic New York- like, classic classic. Old New York classic. Just this side of a stereotype, but oh so genuine, and David is living for it. His voice is really nice, too; not very deep, but gravelly and kind of rough and hoarse and oh, why was this guy blessed with perpetual perfect morning-voice? He sounds like he just woke up and rolled out of bed, so rough and gorgeous.

But that’s beside the point, because this guy is clearly not picking up what David is putting down. That’s alright. Maybe a bit disappointing, but it’s not like David had any high hopes anyway.

David gives a nod and a smirk, standing up straight. “Just telling the truth,” he replies easily, then slaps his hand gently on the bar. “Have a good one.”

“You, too,” The guy says, staring up at David. He opens his mouth, as if to say something else, but instead he just offers a smile and a nod.

David nods back, turning to walk away, feeling pretty good about the interaction. He wasn’t punched, and wasn’t rejected, and--

“Hey, wait,” The man’s voice stops him in his tracks. David turns with a raised brow, taking in the man’s appearance once more- hair, eyes, freckles, skin, jeans and a plain henley with the sleeves rolled to his forearms- and, finally, the guy speaks again. “You… You ain’t too bad yourself, y’know.”

David blinks, confused, until he takes a slow step forward. “That so?” He asks with a hint of a grin.

The guy nods, then crosses his arms. “‘Course. I ain’t the only pretty boy here.”

“Ooh, pretty boy. That’s a new one,” David smirks, then leans against the bar. “So, pretty boy, answer me this. What would you say if I asked to sit with you?”

“Well, I’d probably ask what you’re drinkin’,” The man responds, then gestures for David to sit on the bar stool next to him. “What would your answer be, hypothetically?”

David’s smile widens, and he makes a show of thinking for a moment before speaking. “Well, if a hot guy asked me what I was drinking, I’d probably say a Manhattan with bourbon,” He teases, taking his seat. “And what would pretty boy be drinking, hm?”

“Pretty boy has a name,” He counters with a playful smirk, “and pretty boy is on his second margarita.”

Before David can respond, the man raises a hand and turns to the bartender. “‘Ey, Racer, c’mere,” he calls out, and soon, the bright-eyed blond is walking over, leaning over the bar. “Bring me two tequila shots, and a Manhattan. Bourbon.”

“On it, Cowboy,” The bartender- Antonio, or so it says on his nametag- responds with a wink.

“Cowboy,” David repeats as Antonio leaves, turning his attention to the man beside him. “Pretty boy, cowboy… You have some interesting nicknames.”

“Technically, ‘pretty boy’ ain’t a nickname. You’re the only one who calls me that, sweetheart,” The man smirks, resting his elbow against the bar.

“What else can I call you, then?” David asks, raising a brow as he leans in a bit closer- far enough away to not be in the guy’s personal space, but close enough to still hear him clearly over the booming party playlist blaring in the background.

The guy shrugs, grinning easily, then winks as he looks back at David. “You could start with ‘Jack’,” He replies.

Jack.

Such a generic name, but somehow, it’s just become the most attractive name in the history of ever.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jack,” David says with a wide grin, holding out a hand. “The name’s David.”

Jack reaches out to take David’s hand and give it a shake, and, fuck, David swears he feels sparks. He doesn’t really have time to think about it, though, considering that Antonio is back with their drinks, and Jack is smiling at David like he’s the only thing that matters.

***

An hour passes, and David finds himself particularly buzzed after a few more drinks- courtesy of Jack, who has not once left his side. They’re both just this side of tipsy, both happy and bubbly underneath the flashing lights of the bar, and are already on their cooldown; nursing cold waters and a shared appetizer to come back to at least semi-sober before they have to part ways.

Maybe part ways.

Truth be told, David would follow Jack back to his apartment in a heartbeat if Jack asked him to.

Because, well, Jack is seriously attractive. Muscles for days, a laugh that’s to die for, and there’s an underlying softness to him; he’s an artist. An actual artist. He’s a freelancer; he has a dual degree in graphic design and studio art, so he paints and makes logos and designs business cards and does murals all over the city and, wow, David falls more and more in love every second. Jack even mentioned he was going to be doing some mural at one of the libraries in the city, which made David’s heart skip a beat. A literary themed mural, done by a hot guy… David might just have to leave his own little library and venture across the city to find it.

As the clock on the wall draws ever closer to 11 p.m., David bites his lip. He glances over at Jack, who is already looking at him, and when he sees the hungry look in Jack’s eyes, he smirks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“‘Cause you’re hot,” Jack says, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, “and I’m wonderin’ what it’d take to leave here with ya.”

David takes in a shuddering breath, licking his lips. “All you need to do is answer a question.”

“Oh?” Jack asks, placing a hand on David’s thigh. “And what would that question be?”

David looks him dead in the eyes. They’re both silent, energy sparking and crackling between each other; Jack’s eyes are dark, dark, dark, and David has to actively resist the urge to give in and kiss him right there against the counter. Slowly, David leans in close, lips barely brushing against Jack’s ear as he asks, “Your place or mine?”

Somehow, between one moment and the next, Jack is dragging David up the three steps into his townhouse, and as soon as the door is shut and locked with a distinct click, Jack has David pushed against the wall.

Distantly, David remembers leaving the bar- one owned by Jack’s friends, presumably, considering the fact that Antonio the Bartender and Mr. Redhead Bouncer Man both whistled when Jack escorted David out by the hand. He remembers walking down the block and turning left, and remembers the weight of Jack’s palm against his own; oddly intimate for the acts they’re about to commit, but welcome nonetheless.

But David doesn’t have time to think about that. Not as he places both hands on Jack’s cheeks and kisses him with all the passion he possesses.

Kissing Jack is exactly what David thought it would be: hot, hungry, competitive, fierce. Jack is strong, but within a few seconds, David has Jack backed against the front door, boxing the smaller man in with his arms.

“Oh, fuck,” Jack gasps as David kisses his neck, gently working the skin with just the barest bite of teeth.

David pulls back, glancing down into Jack’s dark eyes. “That’s the plan,” He says with a smirk, before diving back in to kiss Jack. It’s filthy, it’s fucking amazing, and Jack’s hands are in his hair and on his stomach and reaching around to grope his ass, pulling David ever closer.

“We need to- Bed,” Jack rasps out, but makes no move to leave the position; especially not when he leans up and begins his attack on the column of Davey’s throat. Thank God Sarah has extra makeup at David’s apartment; he’ll need it for work. Hannah might fire him on the spot if he walks into the library looking like a 'harlot'.

David taps Jack’s hip, and Jack seems to get the memo. Without breaking contact with David’s skin, Jack jumps and wraps his legs securely around David’s hips; David moans with the contact, bracing Jack with his hands as he blindly carries the man through the apartment. Had it been any other situation, David would have stopped to look around; he’s always been a sucker for interior design, and Jack has good taste.

But now, David only has one idea in mind.

Jack pulls away and gestures to a dark door, and as David opens it, he’s met with Jack’s bedroom, complete with red LED lights around the perimeter of the ceiling. How fitting, he thinks as he walks forward and all but throws Jack onto the bed. David kneels between Jack’s legs and undoes Jack’s belt with a skillful hand- he’s not at all new at this, he knows what he’s doing- and within seconds, David has Jack’s stupid, threadbare henley up and over his head, tossed precariously to a random corner of the bedroom.

Two things happen at once.

First, Jack sits up, looking more vulnerable than he’s looked during the entire night, and second, David notices the two faded surgical scars on either side of his chest, right beneath his pecs.

For a moment, everything is silent as David’s gaze flicks back to Jack’s face. He looks him again, scans his chest, and his toned stomach, and his hip bones that are jutting out under the waistband of his jeans. He's caught in his own head, stricken by how fucking hot Jack is shirtless, and he must be stuck for a few too many seconds, because--

Jack clears his throat, an awkward little sound, but one that catches David’s attention nonetheless. David looks back down and makes eye contact with Jack, who takes in a deep breath and asks, “This… Is this still alright?”

David raises a brow, and breathes, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Before Jack can respond, David pulls off his own shirt and tosses it to the side, then leans back down and kisses Jack. His hands fine Jack’s hips and he gives a harsh squeeze, which makes Jack gasp and hurry to undo the button and zipper of David’s jeans.

David doesn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, he pushes Jack down into the mattress, kissing his neck, then moving to his chest, his abs, trailing lower and lower with every movement, until Jack is panting, whining, begging, until Jack is raising his hips, until Jack is pushing his jeans down.

Until Jack is gasping for breath, thighs bracketing David’s head, moaning a mantra of, “God, yes, David, please, more, more, oh, fuck.”

***

“David! Nice to see ya, hun. Did you enjoy your weekend off?”

David looks over his shoulder as he shuts the front door. His boss, Hannah, is waving him up to the front; he walks to the counter and nods, smiling as he runs a hand through his hair. “I really needed it, yeah. Thank you, Han.”

“Sweetheart, if you ever need a break, you just let me know, okay?” She shoots him a pointed look, and smiles gently. “Go clock in, hun. We got a shipment in the back that needs to be sorted and shelved.”

“Yes, ma’am,” David responds with a grin. He drops off his leather messenger bag behind the front desk, then types his number into the keypad to clock in and log into his account. Once he’s done, David walks to the storage room in the back and stares at the piles of books in front of him.

With a smile, he grabs the first stack. Hannah called him a ‘strange boy’ once, for the very same reason. Apparently, her old employees here at Duane Street Library in downtown all hated sorting day with a passion, but David finds it relaxing. It puts him in a good mood.

Not that he needs this to be in a good mood after Friday night.

David’s hands flex around the spine of a book at the thought. God, he needs to get that out of his head. It’s been, what, two days since then, but he’s still thinking about... Jack. He needs to let go; it’s not like he’s ever going to see the guy again, right? David has no plans to go back to that bar; it was nice, but he only went because there was an event he wasn’t really interested in at the bar he usually goes to- a gay bar, with frequent drag shows and performers who know David by name. A bar that has Britney and Gaga blaring at all times, not one with classic rock.

But, well, that bar seemed like the perfect place for Jack No-Last-Name, and Jack No-Last-Name seemed to frequent it, so it’s highly unlikely that David is ever going to run into Jack No-Last-Name again. It’s a big city, and he’s just a guy from a one night stand that David desperately needed in order to give himself a release.

Figuratively and literally, he thinks.

Eugh. Gross.

Pushing Jack out of his mind, David starts stacking the books onto the rolling cart they keep in the corner. He tries to at least keep them organized- first by genre, then alphabetical- and once he has about forty books on the cart, he pulls it out into the main part of the building. He starts shelving the mystery section first; it’s closest to the storage room, and it’s fairly easy to figure everything out. This mystery section is fun; all of the book spines are hidden, as the books are shelved backwards, and the only tell is the initial of the author's name laminated on the shelves.

There is a sign next to the shelf that says, of course, if you’re looking for a specific book and don’t want to search, come find an employee, blah, blah, but for the most part their guests like this little fun thing they do. It is the mystery section, after all; it’s why they hide the titles, it’s why there’s a basket of books wrapped at the end, it’s why the wrapped books only have the author’s initials and a small, vague summary written on the back.

All very Pinterest-y ideas, but fun nonetheless.

Once all of those books are meticulously shelved, David moves onto nonfiction, and then fiction, and by the time he’s finished with A through G, he’s due for another trip back into storage. H through L follows, then M through Q, then R through Z. When he’s done with the actual alphabetized sections, he gets to start on the fun little pop-up sections throughout the library.

BookTok section; the books that TikTok has been raving about, as an effort to foster more online engagement.

Read with Pride; pride month section. Books about being queer, books about queer experiences, books with queer characters- the works.

Black Authors, Black Voices; a section that has been on display for a while, since the head of the Black Lives Matter movement, about anti-racism and being a better ally to marginalized communities.

There are a few more sections like this that he does; editing them, switching out new books in place of books that have lost traction, creating little fliers and informational cards for the tables… It’s all very nice, very niche, and very much David’s little ‘baby’- his special project. It’s why Hannah hired him; beforehand, she had been trying her hardest to modernize this little library, but she hadn’t been able to hit the nail on the head. In comes David Jacobs, a 24 year old college graduate/grad student with social media management experience and generalized knowledge of what ‘the youths’ are liking, needing a job to help pay his way through grad school…

Needless to say, Hannah basically lets David roam free and do what he needs to do. Of course, she checks off on everything he does, but the new layout and new areas and new ideas are all him.

And it’s working.

The activities that he’s coming up with are getting a lot of participation. Since coming in last year, David has been able to boost community engagement- which, in turn, boosted their annual funding, and they’ve been investing that money into upgrades. Better computers for the Media Center, better toys and activities and little knickknacks for the 'Kid’s Korner' section, better decor to make the library look more lively.

Hannah even mentioned bringing someone in to paint the kid’s section, and maybe even do a nice, Instagram-worthy mural in the Media Center, and--

“Oh, wonderful, you’re here early!”

At the sound of Hannah’s voice up front, David raises a brow. He’s near the back of the library now, and only has about ten more books to shelve, so he doesn’t bother going up to the front. He has a job to do anyway, so it’ll be fine. Distantly, though, he hears Hannah and someone laughing together, which makes David grin; Hannah is always laughing, either with someone or at someone. She’s sassy and snarky and kind of a bitch, but God, does David love her. He couldn’t imagine a better boss.

He focuses on the task at hand, deciding to take his time with it, just to let Hannah talk to whoever it is she’s talking to. Eventually, though, David pushes the cart back to the storage room and makes his way up to the front.

David rounds the corner with a smile and some pep in his step, though he stops in his tracks when he sees--

“David, this fine young man is gonna be painting our mural in the kids section!” Hannah says with a wide grin, and turns away from him. “This is David; he runs our Community Outreach programs and social media accounts, plus helps me with, y’know, sorting through the books,” Hannah explains.

She then turns to David, gesturing to the man next to her. “David, meet Jack Kelly. He’ll be in and out for the next few weeks.”

David and Jack finally make eye contact, and David sees the wide-eyed realization on Jack’s face.

“Hi,” David breathes, his hands clenching at his side.

Jack blinks. Hesitates, then raises his hand to wave. “...Hey.”

Hannah grins, and giggles between them as her hands clasp in front of her chest. “Oh, isn’t this just going to be great?”

That’s one way to put it, David thinks to himself, and by the flushed look on Jack’s face, he’s probably thinking the same damn thing.

#newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #david jacobs #javid #javey #jack newsies #davey newsies #newsies musical #newsies live #livesies #newsies 1992 #92sies #ralbert #albert dasilva #racetrack higgins #trans jack kelly #jac writes

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xadoheandterra · 3 years ago

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Series: The Heir, The Reader, and Clay

Title: Run It Again Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Characters: Desmond Miles, Kadar Al-Sayf, Al Mualim, Altair Ibn La’Ahad Pairings: Altair/Malik Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI | XVII | XVIII Enabler: @kingbob2-0 @claire-the-dyke-dragon Tags: Time Travel, Big Brother Kadar, Desmond Raised By Others, De-Aged Desmond, OC’s Galore, Al Mualim Being Frustrated, Confused Altair Summary: They hadn’t found an answer yet, and Layla was impatient despite the promise of the Grey being timeless in its nature. She didn’t want to have to search for an answer that might never come–so she made another suggestion. Why not just change it? Why not counter the Isu influence on the Pieces of Eden where it counted, and counter what Juno inevitably did to the Eye in the Grand Temple?

It was all the push that Desmond needed to let himself be just that bit more selfish. So selfish he chose to be, and there was one moment where the Isu’s hold on the Pieces of Eden had a profound effect–the Levantine Brotherhood. Altair Ibn La’Ahad. Al Mualim. There was just one problem–Desmond was eight, a child, and didn’t remember dying.

Layla at least had his back, even if she was just a bit fashionably late.

Altair did not raise his head when the door to his cell opened and allowed the torchlight to shine upon the small space. He kept his head bowed in silence, dressed in only pants and loose tunic and not the traditional Assassin wear. In the flickering torchlight Altair's eyes gleamed a brilliant gold as he looked upon the world in the twilight of his second sight. The familiar form of the Master, a purplish color interwoven with gold, sung to his sixth sense--Altair didn't breath a sigh of relief, or blink, or move while he waited for the Master to speak, head bowed and legs folded underneath him on the hard, stone floor.

Al Mualim settled the torchlight into the sconce at the door, then dragged a chair into small cell to settle himself into. Altair raised his head a little at that, eyes flickering to the chair and back to the Master before he returned his gaze straight to the floor, face carefully composed and blank. Al Mualim was ancient, practically; if he wanted to sit in a cushioned chair he was well within his rights to. If that cushioned chair happened to be in the doorway to Altair's cell, well who was Altair to question the whims of his betters? The only sign of Altair's conflicted mind--of Al Mualim settled into a chair in the door to one of the cells they kept prisoners in was the momentary reflexive tensing of his hands on his thighs.

The old man shifted into place with a faint, near unheard of sigh. Altair's senses were better, so of course he noticed the way the Master relaxed. For a long, long moment as Al Mualim got himself situated there was only silence. He could feel it creep up along his back; it gathered with the tenseness of Altair's shoulders, tight like a knot between them. It wanted to drag his head down, both with shame and confusion, but he kept his gaze stubbornly focused where it should be focused and he kept himself still as a statue as he waited. Altair hated waiting.

"Kareem tells me you have been visiting the infirmary," Al Mualim eventually settled to say, and Altair chanced a glance upward before he remembered himself and focused his gaze back down. "Do you think you have not done enough, my wayward pupil?"

A muscle jumped in Altair's cheek. He wanted to speak, to say something, but he kept himself silent as he was supposed to. Even if he had something to say it wouldn't matter; even if his defense had been a simple, Kareem let me, it would mean nothing. Altair meant nothing, now; his presence in the cells made that clear to even the dullest of minds. Whether Kareem let him do anything meant little--as did assuaging his own hubris. He kept his silence, though, because he was in enough trouble as it was.

Al Mualim clucked his tongue and Altair fought down the response to flinch at the sound. He waited; felt the urge to grow even stiffer as he did so, and eventually Al Mualim graced him with words once more, stern and judgmental. "Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Altair raised his head enough to peek a look at Al Mualim's face, let his second sight fade so that he could see the subtleties that were otherwise lost to him in the twilight. The blind-and-glass eye was wide as always, but the Master's normal eye was narrowed in its gaze. Altair could barely see the way Al Mualim frowned beneath his beard, but it was enough to give Altair a sense that if his answer didn't satisfy then he would not like the consequences. What then could he say for himself?

Malik had lost an arm and a brother and Altair didn't know what to say or what to do--he couldn't go to the man. Not when the last he saw him before was a bloodied mess presenting the treasure like a prize that chafed against Altair's pride. Now he had robes as black as night at his bedside, a missing arm, and Altair wore nothing but a tunic and pants and had to sneak around like a thief in what was once his home. He breathed out slowly and tried to still the way the anger wanted to curdle through him--because he wasn't. He wasn't angry about it all--and the lie felt like a blade at his neck.

"I have nothing to say," Altair eventually settled on, words made hoarse by the fact that he had barely spoken a word in a month.

Al Mualim scoffed. "Now that I do not believe," the Master waved a hand and he looked--disgusted, Altair clenched his fists and focused his gaze back down; he breathed, slow and steady and measured to center himself and to ease the tensing of his shoulders.

Eventually Altair stuttered out a short, "Why did you..." in fits and starts, uncertain on how to phrase just what he wanted to ask.

Why did you Title Malik? Why did you Strip me? Why did you Praise--why did you Berate--Why ran in circles like a never-ending nightmare that Altair could not understand. He hated it; the way parts at him felt rubbed raw with his own confusion and impotency.

"Why did I kill you?" Al Mualim finished for him, voice candid, and Altair could not withhold the grimace across his face. His abdomen tinged with phantom pain of a blade carefully placed to do the most damage--he could still feel the way it punctured into him, feel the way his breath stilled in his lungs out of surprise--how Al Mualim cradled him close, fingers wrapped tight around the hilt of the weapon that ended his life with a whisper--how he collapsed as Al Mualim pulled the blade from him, the wounded noise that left him drained like his blood as he died--

It never happened, Altair reminded himself, sternly. It was a whispered suggestion implied and brought to life through hallucinogens that Al Mualim had slipped him in a moment of his own vulnerability and wounded ego; blossomed through fever dreams of a high Altair hadn't anticipated. Altair knew that now--even as his stomach ached with familiar pain of a stab-wound that went deep. Not that Altair would honestly know what such a wound felt like; he'd not once been stabbed so deeply. He knew the bite of a blade like any Assassin just as well, but such a wound was not often survivable and Altair was nothing if not a tenacious survivor.

"Tell me, what is our Creed?" Al Mualim asked, and Altair pressed his lips together. So it was this same old thing again; he wanted to grind his teeth.

"Stay our blade from those whom are innocent," Altair said.

"Did you?" Al Mualim questioned, and Altair raised his head instinctively, eyes flashed golden as his second sight bloomed in his mind with the memory of it.

"Of course I did!" Altair spat. "I am no fool, Master! No one there would have been innocent, not a seeming 'old man' and not with the enemies that awaited us--that you warned us of!"

Al Mualim hummed, then gestured for Altair to continue and didn't address the outburst. The lack of acknowledgement of it made the shame curdle in his gut all the worse and Altair had to fight back the urge to snarl and instead grit his teeth and turned his head back down with the silent chastisement.

"Be the blade hidden within the crowd," Altair continued, words only slightly bitter as he worked through this farce the Master wanted him to play.

"And were you?" Al Mualim questioned again, and here Altair hesitated because he had been, but he'd also had not.

"...de Sable was there," Altair said eventually, and he had to cherry pick what he said next before he let his temper get a hold of him at the memory. "We could not finish the mission as it were--we were compromised the minute he graced the Temple with his presence, Master. There was no place to hide."

"So you abandoned reason," Al Mualim said calmly. "You led a frontal assault on a man you were warned of."

Altair clenched his fists and said, mouth thick with his own words and desire to refute the statement, "I became the crowd to hide the blade."

"You became the crowd?" Al Mualim scoffed and turned his head aside. "You chose to try and hide the actions of your fellows, to put them at greater risk of discovery by revealing yourself to an enemy whom had already implied knowledge of our practices?"

Through gritted teeth, drawn out and unwanted, Altair said, "...yes," because it was true in a fashion. It wasn't everything, but the Master wouldn't listen if it were everything. He picked what he wanted and ignored the rest and--Altair had to force himself to breath slow and steady, to calm the way his blood boiled. The Master grunted in reply and waved a hand into the air magnanimously.

"Continue, then, with the tenets."

Altair didn't want to; it felt like hands on his arms again, holding him back from lunging forward and trying to make Al Mualim see sense. It was like his Brothers had him pinned to the wall--a caged bird unable to fly when all he wanted was to be free. It felt like the blade-that-didn't-exist in his gut again, as his breath stilled and then as his life's blood exhaled from him. The black of death tried to tow him under once more and he fought it tooth and nail and screaming even as the Master touched him gently--so gently--and whispered in his ear that this was Just.

"Why should I bother?" Altair eventually said, just on the edge of petulant. He dug his fingers into the cotton of his pants. "You have already made your decision as to my actions."

Al Mualim stood abruptly, moved with a grace that Altair knew he had, but he kept deceptively hidden as he burst into action. "Do not betray your Brothers!" the words were shouted and Altair flinched back as Al Mualim crowded into the cell, fury in every inch of his form. "We live a life of contradictions, child--for nothing is true and everything permitted and you betrayed that! Of course I have made my decision!"

Unthinking Altair scrambled back, a sudden jolt of fear that quickly flashed into rage as he climbed to his feet and yelled back, "If everything is permitted then why are my actions even questioned?! How have I broken anything?!"

Al Mualim growled and made a sharp gesture as he turned, paced within the confines of Altair's small cell. "In one ear, out the other--you never listen boy, do you?!" He sighed, heavy, even as his words contained that undercurrent of fury. "Perhaps I was a fool in keeping my admonishments private. Perhaps I was a fool in thinking you could learn."

"Master--"

"Quiet, Altair!"

Altair's mouth snapped closed, eyes wide.

"You will listen, now," Al Mualim said sharply. Altair stood firmly still like a fawn caught in the gaze of a predator. He almost didn't dare to breathe the way he held himself. "Nothing is true, not in the respect that all things are false or that all men are liars--but in the fact that all men are put upon this earth without wisdom, that we must learn and grow and realize--truth is perceptive upon the viewer. Nothing is true because no our world is perceived by the individual." Altair opened his mouth, then closed it slowly when Al Mualim shot him a look. "What about this confuses you, Altair? What about this have you not understood?"

Altair licked his lips, tilted his head down, and then shook it a second later. It made no sense. None of it had ever made any sense--and Al Mualim had never responded so harshly to Altair's blunders through the Creed before. He thought it was clear and straightforward--it should be clear and straightforward. Nothing is true means that nothing is true--people are liars, groups may start off kindly but they still aim to control the mass populace while lying about their plans or their goals or their reasons for existence--even the Brotherhood falls into this fallacy and Altair is not blind to it.

"It is--I do not know," Altair grimaced and crouched down. "I do not--"

Al Mualim sighed, heavy and tired, and moved back to his chair. "Then it is good I have made your humiliation public, this time." Altair felt his cheeks flush with the reminder--that he was not a Brother now. That he was less than a civilian. Those who once praised him didn't even deem him worthy of a glance, anymore. "Get up. Go to your rooms and get dressed. I have work for you."

Altair raised his head, surprised. He didn't move for a moment, but then Al Mualim gave him a look and slowly Altair rose from his crouch--he kept slouched, though, instead of straight backed and proud. He wasn't sure what this would mean, but he watched as the Master dragged the chair back out of the doorway and grabbed the sconce off of the wall. Altair's gaze near immediately slipped back into his second sight, embraced the twilight world with the casual dismissal of the torchlight.

"Do not bother to return to the infirmary, either," Al Mualim said shortly. "You will not find Malik there any longer."

Altair bowed his head, and slipped from the room on silent bare feet.

Kadar crouched on the rooftop a few buildings over, Desmond in his shadow as they watched the ground below. Their little shadow that had slowly cased them out over the days of the month. Desmond had determined the pattern to their movements as they followed them--to the market, to the well, or just took a path by the building the two had holed themselves up in. It was enough that Kadar felt comfortable with the knowledge that whomever stalked them was definitely a Brother, and thus less likely to kill them when approached. They might even have answers as to what happened to Kadar-the-elder and when a new Rafiq was meant to come to the city.

"Gold is coming," Desmond chirped from where he sat cross legged in Kadar's shadow, gaze focused off in the distance. Kadar gave a nod and inched closer to the edge to watch the street below intensely.

Sure enough with Desmond's statement Kadar caught sight of Assassin-white and Novice-grey that clung to the shadows. Kadar's lips pulled down when he realized the Novice didn't even bother to take to the rooftops. For these back streets being on the ground with nary a person in sight could just as easily out the wary Novice as it could keep one hidden. Kadar gestured for Desmond to come up close as he watched the Novice shift down the street. They kept their eyes open, at least, and looked around for both threats and anything else--but they didn't look up.

"You should always check the rooftops," Kadar said softly to Desmond as he gestured to the Novice. "Especially if you remain on the ground, in the shadows."

Desmond frowned. "She's not looking up." Kadar quickly shot Desmond a look, lips pressed thin and eyes narrowed at the words.

"He is wearing Novice grey," Kadar said in a pointed reprimand and Desmond ducked his head. "Probably not much older than you, either," Kadar added with a bit less bite and ruffled the curls on the top of Desmond's head. He let out an amused huff at Desmond's squeak of surprise, and at the way the boy quickly worked to fix his hair in response. "Come, let us go greet our friend."

"Gold is alone," Desmond said quickly, and Kadar nodded in acknowledgement as he scrambled over to the far edge outside of the Novice's sight. They made quick work down from the rooftop--Desmond much more graceful in his technique after the hours Kadar had drilled the boy in the way to find handholds and footholds without his second sight. Quickly Kadar motioned for Desmond to get behind him and pressed himself flat to the wall.

"Tell me when the Novice is close," Kadar said in a whisper, and Desmond nodded. They'd worked out a system for things like this in the time they'd spent together. Desmond's eyes quickly flashed gold with his second sight, and then they waited in silence for the Novice to approach the corner. Desmond gripped the back of Kadar's shirt tight, and then tugged once, sharp.

Kadar burst into movement, swiftly pressing around the corner to grab at the Novice who let out a surprised shout that was quickly muffled when Kadar pulled them around the edge of the corner and pressed them against the wall. A dagger was already in Kadar's hand, pressed against the Novice's neck in a display of skill that had Desmond's eyes wide with metaphorical stars. Kadar watched the Novice swallow, reflexively, as eyes beneath the grey hood went wide.

"I am going to pull my hand away and you are going to answer questions," Kadar said slowly, and waited for the nod of acknowledgement. Carefully he moved his hand from the Novice's mouth. "Where you one of the Rafiq's?"

"Yes," the Novice said, bluntly and somehow bright. "Are you the demon's brother?"

Kadar's face twitched at the epithet--he wasn't unaware of it, he just hated to actually hear it. From his side Desmond tilted his head and mouthed the epithet to himself with that brow-furrowed childish confusion of is. Kadar just took a deep, slow breath as he pulled the knife back slightly with a faint grimace across his face.

"My brother is not a demon," Kadar said, even as Desmond tugged on the back of Kadar's shirt. Kadar didn't glance at Desmond, although he did make a faint noise that could have been a 'yes?' to the boy even as the Novice in his hold relaxed the slightest bit at Kadar's response.

"Why's Malik a demon?" Desmond asked, and Kadar had to glance at the boy out of the corner of his eye at the confused tone. "He's really nice."

"He's also really dangerous," Jamal said brightly.

"My brother is good with blades," Kadar said, "and so am I," he added when Jamal tried to wiggle out of Kadar's grasp when he glanced to Desmond. From behind him he heard Desmond make an 'ooooh' sound and then caught the faint nod of understanding.

"That's why he was so upset about the live blade practice thing teacher did," Desmond said half-under his breath and Kadar wanted to turn and demand what the hell was Desmond talking about but he had a squirming Novice in his hold so priorities took control instead. Still Kadar filed that away to get answers from both Desmond and his brother about later.

"Why are you not robed?" Jamal asked brightly. "It has made things really unclear as to where you stand. Also is the demon here too?"

Kadar rolled his eyes and replied bluntly, "I have not had the time to repair them." He took in a deep breath and then added, "Please stop calling Malik a demon." Jamal merely shrugged in Kadar's hold and didn't falter with his bright and chirpy smile. Kadar felt the growing itch to punch it off of the teens face--and had to remind himself he couldn't. It wouldn't be right.

"Is he here though?" Jamal repeated as Kadar backed just a bit away from the Novice, blade still in hand but no longer pinning him into place.

"No," Kadar grumbled. "Malik rode to Masyaf. What happened to the Rafiq?" Jamal frowned and Kadar jerked his head in the direction of the Bureau. "We arrived to find the place overrun with guards and Templars."

"We noticed," Jamal said, words more subdued as he glanced to Desmond who waved from behind Kadar. Kadar shifted to block the boy from sight and Jamal's gaze immediately darted back to him. "There was a commotion in the city a few days before your arrival. The guards were riled afterward; not even our informants could safely travel."

Kadar stepped back and sheathed his blade before he crossed his arms. "What kind of commotion?"

Jamal shrugged. "We have no idea; it was closer to the city center, but it sent the guards on a warpath." He grimaced. "They began to search shops and homes, apothecary's specifically. From what we gathered they were looking for someone, but would not say who." Jamal ducked his head. "We knew it would only be time before they would come for Kadar."

Kadar took another step back and felt Desmond grab the back of his shirt. He said a short, "Were you able to send word to Masyaf?"

"We got a message," Jamal started to say but Kadar raised a hand to stop him when Desmond tugged sharply on his shirt.

"Red," Desmond hissed, and he stood on his toes to say it to Kadar's ear, glowing golden eyes gleamed from over Kadar's shoulder and immediately Kadar went stiff.

"Up!" Kadar said sharply. Desmond began to scramble for the wall before Kadar had even gotten the world fully out. The only one who lingered had been Jamal who gaped unattractively in response to the quick movements from the kid. Kadar was already partway up the wall when he realized Jamal wasn't following and said a sharp, "Move, or get caught!"

Kadar continued to climb upward; he heard Jamal splutter behind him in surprise and waste precious seconds before eventually the sound of feet and fingers in the wall told him that Jamal was following at as quick a pace as he can manage. Kadar pulled himself up next to Desmond, then both he and Desmond leaned over to grab Jamal and pull the Novice up when it became apparent how slow he was.

"You cannot just--" Jamal hissed between teeth--but Kadar cut him off with a narrowed eyed look that resulted in a suddenly pale Jamal and a hard swallow from the younger teen who quickly raised his hands in appeasement before Kadar turned his head toward Desmond.

"Where?" Kadar asked, words were short, and Desmond gestured back toward their abandoned house. Kadar watched as he lowered his head a bit and pressed his lips together. "What is it?"

"They're inside," Desmond said, hands clenched into fists at his side.

"How do you know this?" Jamal hissed with a glance between Kadar and Desmond even as he inched over to the edge of the building to look down below.

Kadar didn't grace Jamal with an answer to that; he didn't know this Novice, and they were apparently foolish enough to make themselves visible. Kadar quickly pulled Jamal back with a sharp tug and another narrow eyed star and watched at how Jamal hissed through his teeth and hunched down just the slightest bit at the silent rebuke.

"We need to move Kadar," Desmond said, and blinked back to his normal honey-colored eyes instead of the gleaming gold of his second sight. "They found your robes."

Kadar hissed in a breath; that was that, then. There was no going back to that house. He looked to Jamal, kept himself low on the roof as he said slowly, "Where have you been staying?"

"What?" Jamal jerked upright. "But how--" Kadar ground his teeth together and watched as Jamal seemed to reconsider his words for a moment before he sighed heavily. "An abandoned church near the poor district."

Kadar tried to mentally map the route, then promptly gave him--he wasn't as good at city streets as Malik was. Instead he turned to Desmond who blinked back into his second sight, eyes once more the reflective golden color at the silent command. Kadar relaxed only slightly with Desmond's eyes on the danger as he turned back to Jamal.

"Lead the way there," Kadar said. Jamal huffed but nodded and headed toward the edge of the rooftop. Kadar grabbed him quickly before he could descend and said sharply, "We go by rooftop. It is safer."

Jamal looked affronted as he hissed, "We cannot just go by rooftop--" but quickly quieted when Kadar ground his teeth and repeated himself in a low growl. Once he got Jamal's agreement Kadar let go and gestured for Jamal to lead the way. He did not miss the way Jamal said, "Definitely the demon's brother," under his breath as he began to take the lead over the rooftops for the church.

For once Kadar decided not to fight the epithet of his brothers; it at least helped him deal with Jamal.

The abandoned church was at least in a better state that the house Desmond and Kadar had been squatting in, but Desmond didn't like having to move so suddenly after almost a month of settling in to a routine. It also didn't help that Desmond lost his clothes and Kadar his robes and all of their medicine too! Everything they didn't have on them, which wasn't much really but all important things and included the small wooden figurine Kadar had whittled for Desmond one night when he had a nightmare, and now it was just in the hands of the red-red-red-red men. All of that red kept ruining everything Desmond found safe and he hated it.

Then there was Jamal and Desmond wasn't sure what to think about her--and she was definitely a her and Desmond didn't get why Kadar called her a him but whatever, he'd ask Malik about it later when Malik showed up. Desmond knew plenty of Brothers who were hers too, back at the Farm, but this wasn't the Farm and the longer Desmond stayed here the more he doubted he'd ever see the Farm again. Which okay he might be a bit upset about but also Desmond wasn't that upset since Kadar was about a million times better then any of his Brothers at the Farm. Not that Desmond got to interact with any of his Brothers at the Farm, really.

Still--Jamal called Malik a demon which was all kinds of weird to hear and at first Desmond didn't understand who Jamal was talking about but then Kadar had confirmed it and Desmond itched to punch her in the face and only restrained himself because she was bigger and could probably kick his ass if she really wanted to. Desmond still reserved to call her stupid in his head, and maybe to Kadar when he stopped being super cool about all the things he could do.

Of course their arrival to the church had not gone unnoticed. Desmond didn't have a chance to warn Kadar about the four people inside, not before they were surrounded with Jamal. Kadar shifted in front of Desmond and Desmond pursed his lips and puffed his cheeks in frustration at the obvious move again--he wasn't a baby damn it all Desmond knew how to fight! Kind of. If he had a weapon he could just show Kadar--but now, Kadar didn't let Desmond touch a blade and the one time he asked he gave Desmond such a horrified look that Desmond hadn't felt comfortable asking ever again.

Once the four others who were kind-of-blue-nice-safe made their presence known Desmond immediately grabbed the back of Kadar's shirt and settled to observe with his weird other sight. He felt comforted with Kadar's firmly gold-blue-important-safe-protective color that made everything not as frightening as it all really should be. He heard Kadar suck in a surprised breath, and then a faint sort of whispered, "Hakim?"

The biggest of the four that had surrounded the seemed to still for a minute in that weird way that surprise causes Brothers to do, and then he laughed and threw his hood off of his head and pulled Kadar into a tight hug. Desmond let out a shout of surprise and let his fingers unclench from Kadar's shirt as he was pulled away from Desmond. Desmond eyed the rest of the group with wide eyes, feeling tense and uncertain while Kadar was--was squeezed, apparently.

"Kadar! You are a sight for sore eyes," Hakim said, and Desmond had to blink his second sight away now even if it brought him a comfort. His head was starting to hurt and Kadar was very adamant if his head hurt he stop.

"Hakim let me go!" Kadar huffed, and then wiggled his way out of Hakim's grip. Desmond's eyes were wide because Hakim was huge in the sense that he was burly and wide. His shoulders were the broadest Desmond had seen so far that for a minute Desmond thought he was an adult except--except Hakim was shorter than Kadar by a little bit and lacked any sort of facial hair. "Since when have you been in Jerusalem?"

"For a few months before this," Hakim said and gestured for everyone to head inside. "Who is the kid?"

Kadar gestured for Desmond and Desmond quickly raced up to Kadar's side with wide eyes even as Kadar introduced him with a smile, "This is Desmond. My brother has entrusted him into my care for the moment."

"Is Malik here?" Hakim asked, and behind him the other Brothers fell in step, including Jamal. Desmond eyed them for a moment longer and missed whatever response Kadar gave to Hakim, but it was enough that Hakim seemed to have lost a bit of the spark that seeing Kadar brought him. "I had hoped we might have an Assassin to direct us...."

"He should be back in the city," Kadar said carefully. "Desmond and I have been keeping an eye out. If the Master did keep him then his arm might have been in a worse state than I thought...." Desmond grimaced at the reminder of that broken arm that Malik had ridden off with.

"Why didn't you join him?" Hakim asked as he hopped up onto a box. There were several set out for this group of Brothers to settle around. The other three except for Jamal quickly went back to whatever they'd been doing before, Desmond watched them for a moment--one was tending to blades, another going through stretches, and a third through what looked like salvaged supplies.

Kadar reached out and touched Desmond who glanced back and up at him in concern but Kadar just smiled and Desmond shrugged while Kadar turned back to Hakim and continued to speak quietly. Desmond caught something about an injury and his name, but he was more interested in taking in the state of this church. There may have been pews at some point, but the wood had been broken up and used as kindling at some point.

"Alem!" Hakim shouted and Desmond jerked from beside Kadar. "Gab our supplies!"

"It is fine," Kadar ground out and Hakim gave him a narrow eyed look that had Desmond tilting his head back as he looked at the older boy in a bit of surprise.

"I will be the judge of that," Hakim said sharply and Desmond looked back to Kadar who sighed heavily and began to pull off his tunic.

Desmond didn't want to ask what this was about; he knew he missed something but he still didn't want to know why Kadar was undressing suddenly so Desmond hopped off the box next to Kadar and started to wander the church in an effort to find a quiet, dark place to settle down and rest and maybe mourn the loss of all of his things back at the abandoned house. He wondered when Malik was going to come back--Desmond was starting to worry that Malik wouldn't come back, either. He didn't like that thought. Malik had to come back. He promised.

With a huff Desmond kicked at a rock, and then glanced back to Kadar who was busy with his Brothers who were looking him over and making exclamations and then Desmond glanced to Jamal who watched everything with a slight laugh to her face and--he clenched his fists at his sides and kicked the rock again. He didn't know any of these strange people. He wanted to be back at the abandoned house with just him and Kadar--or back at the cave when it was him and Malik. Desmond didn't know these strangers and they interacted so differently with Kadar--it was like the Brothers back at the Farm, but once more Desmond was on the outside looking in.

Desmond sighed and climbed up and then through one of the broken windows until he was outside the building again, then he looked up into the bright sky with his hand shielding his face. He tugged his hood back up and over his hair and frowned and--there was something on the edge of his senses. Desmond paused; something important niggled in the back of his brain. Something--something gold-bright-and-safe-blue. Something important and--without a thought Desmond grabbed a stick from the ground and took off into a loping run for the streets. He followed that sense of gold-blue-safety-and-peace with single minded determination.

#fic: run it again #assassins creed #kadar al sayf #al mualim #altair ibn la'ahad #desmond miles #fanfic #desmond lives au #altmal raises baby desmond #altmal #wip #fic: the heir the reader and clay

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playinonaloop · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 3: Agony

Warnings through out the series: (mentions of) smut, violence, drugs, alcohol, guns, maffia stuff, ya know!

Story masterlist

You woke up with sun shining on your face again. Another night had passed, making it now day 4 in the house. You were alone and now let the tears flow freely. The pain was increasingly getting worse with the minute making it feel like you were dying. You decided now was the moment to scream, letting it all out as you were terrified to the bone. After screaming the fear out of you, you became silent and stared out of the windows. Thoughts were flooding your mind as the sun moved along. You were hungry, even more thirsty and were now a hundred percent sure the fluid that Michelle sprayed onto you was just alcohol. And you were happy for that, if it was something chemical this could’ve turned out so much worse. The duct tape on your mouth was warm, making it beginning to slip from your mouth a bit. The movement from your mouth made it fall off in the end. You took a big breath as you decided to wake the people in the house up.

After an hour of screaming the door behind you finally opened. The person coming in was softly speaking to himself, too soft for you to understand but you knew he was irritated.

“So, four days in and you decide to wake us with your screaming now” It was Daniel who came in. His voice was still groggy, so you knew your plan had worked. A sly smile was on your mouth as he walked around you to face you. What you didn’t expect to see was the utter horror that painted his face as he saw you.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Your mum and Michelle, that’s what happened”

His face hardened as he came down to your level, taking you in and looking at the dried blood on your body. You met his eyes and saw something you hadn’t seen in a while. Pure anger turning his brown eyes a shade darker than they had been.

“We didn’t discuss this..” His voice was soft, almost caring. It made the hairs on your arms stand up straight. The goosebumps all over your body followed quick. Both of you knew that this small moment between you wasn’t supposed to happen. You turned your eyes away from his, looking down.

“I’ll be back”

Without blinking twice, he left the room. Leaving you to yourself again. The pain became a bit worse as you made yourself tired with the screaming.

The soft bass of the club were also to be heard outside. It was a quarter past 11 when you and your friends joined the queue to get inside. Goosebumps where all over your bare arms as you were wearing a dress without sleeves. This night marked itself as the start of something new. You were now 21, living in your own apartment away from your family. Even if it was a 20 minute drive away, it was freeing. Your parents were working hard every day to make themself valuable for the Australian government. This made being and working at home tense. Getting out of that house was the best decision you’ve made in a while. Just as going out was too. After standing in the line for a while you and your friends finally got inside. The club was warm from the people dancing. Your friend was taking your coats to the locker-room while you got some drinks for everyone. While moving through the crowd you found a table to sit at as your friend spotted you with your drinks.

“It’s busy tonight!” Your friend Max said as he took his beer from you. Everyone nodded as they took a sip from their drinks. The music was a mix of bangers from the past and remixed hits. After finishing your drink, you dragged your friends to the dance floor. Dancing had always been a hobby of yours, you never took lessons but got some moves from simply copying people in music videos. After finishing your drink you dragged your friends to the dance floor. You danced a big part of the night away, with short breaks for drinks in them. As the music got slower most of your friends got back to the table you were sitting at earlier that night. You on the other hand found a dance partner to match the music. He smelled impeccable, as his hand found their way on your hips. You smiled as you softly leaned back into his touch, joining your hand with his. Guiding it a bit lower, while his other hand found his way to your other hip. You looked down at it, noticing the small rose on the hand that you covered. Rubbing the rose softly as you relaxed. He smelled like he'd just left the sea, but also like he'd just stepped out of a candy shop. It was almost intoxicating. You looked quickly to the side your friends where to be seated but didn't see them. A frown came over your face, but it quickly washed away as the man behind you took the opportunity to kiss your ear, trailing down with kisses on your neck. You closed your eyes as you felt your knees weaken. Neck kisses, accompanied with the alcohol in your system made you horny.

"Does that feel good, babe?"

His voice was deep, close to your ear. You replied with a soft hum, fluttering your eyes open en closed again. A hand made his way back to your bum, softly grabbing it and squeezing. He continued kissing your neck, making you softly moan. Pillow talk from Zayn Malik filled the room with a low vibration as it was slowed down a bit. You didn't feel the need to look back around just yet. Simply taking in his cologne, feeling his hands on your body and his body behind yours was enough. He followed the movements your body made with ease, getting closer to you with every move. All of it ended too quick for you to notice. His hands slipped from your body.

"I've got to go, thanks for this, love"

Before you could turn around to thank him, he already disappeared in the crowd. It made you stand on your tiptoes to search in the crowd. The only thing that you saw was the back of his head. A head with curls, slowly bouncing up and down. He was dressed in a white blouse and dressing pants. After that you never saw him again.

“Family meeting in five, the big dining hall.” It was safe to say Daniel was furious. As he went door to door in the hall to wake everyone, his anger was getting the best of him. He knocked the hardest on his mum’s door, hearing her jolt awake as he tried to speak with a composed voice. This wasn’t part of the plan that was made upon your arrival, and he was capable of breaking the whole house to find out what made them turn this way.

He sat down at the head of the table, a coffee to hold while his nerves played up. Daniel knew that it wasn’t his place to sit here as it was his dad’s. Stretching his right hand whilst waiting. Michelle was the first person to enter, parts of her hair standing up straight. She was hugging her arms as she left the door open, for those who came in later. The left side of her face was a little puffed, her arm showed little red lines of where she probably hugged her pillow.

“Why did you call-”

“Just wait until everyone is here”

Daniel cut her short, not wanting to explode right then and there. She gave him a weird look as she sat down, made herself comfortable by pulling a leg upon the chair. They waited in silence. Michelle let her eyes wander over the high ceiling, it was painted in a deep shade of red. The contrast to the pine-colored drapes that hung from the ceiling was big but complimentary. Grace and Joe finally joined them. His dad gave him a strange look as Daniel was sitting in his place but joined his wife.

“So, you want to tell us why you were screaming at our door?”

His mother looked at him with caring eyes, probably wondering why her son was so upset.

“Care to tell me why y/n has wounds all over her body?”

Daniels ‘s tone was harsh. Michelle widened her eyes, throwing a quick look at her mom as her cheeks turned a little red. Joe turned to his wife, raising his eyebrows.

“We needed the information, as we discussed”

Grace replied without a change in tone or face. He felt himself get even angrier.

“We didn’t discuss you cutting her open and leaving her to bleed out?!”

His fists hit the table as he rose up. Daniel’s eyes turned almost to black. Michelle winced from his reaction. Joe just sat there, looking back and forth between his wife and Daniel.

“We took the necessary steps to get her to talk. And failed to do so”

Grace now got up too, walking towards Daniel as he started screaming.

“We?! You did that! Michelle and you. I am disgusted!”

The mug he had been holding earlier now flew through the room, clattering onto the wall. Coffee splattering onto everything. It broke, making Michelle dive into her chair to shield herself.

“We weren’t doing anything wrong Daniel! We need the information she has to ruin her dad’s career!”

Grace was now raising her voice too.

“Not. Doing. Anything. Wrong?!”

With every stop in between the words Daniel stomped closer. He was now face to face with his mother. His mother, who didn’t seem to understand that cutting someone open was wrong in so many ways. Daniel looked her straight in her brown eyes, biting his tongue as he was about to say something that he would regret later.

“Did you consider the y/ln’s might strike back, Grace?”

Joe interfered and placed himself in between his wife and son. She turned her head to look at him, taking a step back in the process.

“They won’t dare”

Her voice was now soft, almost as if she was scared to answer. The tension in the air changed, where Daniel brought pure anger Grace now radiated fear. Daniel scoffed at her answer.

“Why wouldn’t they dare mum?”

“Because she won’t leave this place alive”

This answer shocked everyone. Daniel almost pushed away his dad if he wasn't just a bit stronger than him. Hands gripped his upper arms, to hold him in his place.

“We can’t do that Grace, that will kill us all”

Joe spoke as he held back Daniel.

“Let me get past, I need some air”

Click here for chapter four!

#imagine #fanfic #daniel ricciardo #Daniel Ricciardo imagine #f1 #mob!au #angst

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varcn · 3 years ago

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in defense to varon: a long rant about dub vs. sub.

i want to start this post by saying that throughout my time with varon as a muse ( over five or so years ago ), i’ve seen hate towards his character & a lot of it, are issues with the dub or issues that could be explained ( not justified ) by learning about his background ( which was omitted pretty much in the dub ). so, with this post, i want to address some of those issues ( which i also share ) & explain why i lean towards the sub.

one of the major critiques i’ve seen about his character, is his entitlement to mai & i agree, but let me just say that this was mainly a problem in the dub.

i will go on a bit of a tangent & say that yes, doma had many issues & many ‘ooc’ moments. there’s been a lot of frustration towards mai’s character regression, & while i understand that as an audience, it might be frustrating or disappointing, i like to see it through a more ‘realistic’ perspective. mai suffered a lot because of yami malik. she was shown with trauma ( possible ptsd or depression ), so to me, the fact that she went back to her old ways when she was alone isn’t entirely unrealistic. what i had a problem with, was how yugi & co. decided to react to this, completely dismissing her feelings & blaming it entirely on the orichalcos brainwashing her, which... yes & no. the orichalcos made her want to defeat jou because she wanted to move on, as it was clear that him not being there + envy had caused resentment towards him & the group. however, the resentment was already there. mai felt abandoned, left behind, etc. she wanted to be saved even though she wasn’t reaching out or saying she needed the help. emotions aren’t always rational, so even if she knew that they wouldn’t know unless she said something, that didn’t stop her from feeling some type of way towards them.

valon is no different in the dub.

first meeting / flashback

when they meet, he makes promises of power & how he could grant her that. he always portrayed himself as mai’s saviour or knight in shining armour. he was entitled to her from the beginning because she ‘owed’ it to him. to me, it felt as if the dub was trying to mirror jou by dumbing him down ( jou is also dumbed down ), & make it seems like ‘look, they’re the same, just good vs bad! ). in the sub, however, i see it more as ‘varon is what jou could’ve become, had he not found yugi & co’.

in the sub, mai breaks down because she’s alone, hurt & ‘needs to be saved’, because nothing she does ever feels as enough. varon starts by telling her that she’s a strong woman, despite losing to him & collapsing to her knees. he called her strong because she’s still trying, & doesn’t make her promises about giving her power, like in the dub. instead, he tells her ( perhaps a bit harsh, but true ) that no one will save her ( oh, the irony ) & that she needs to save herself. this alone, is a comment he makes from experience & shows how varon sees things. it’s him vs the world. he can’t rely on anyone else, & even shows some anger towards rafael when he tries to help.

he’s a loner, like mai, & while what he said isn’t the best advice, it’s all he knows. in the end, he disproved his own advice because he saw how blinded mai was & the risks she was taking as consequence of it. he saw that no, she couldn’t do things alone in the state she was & he wanted her to rely on him.

* this is also the first instance of varon showing any care / concern towards someone, as later on, he even tells mai he’s willing to go against doma / dartz for her sake. take that as you will.

valon, the ‘r/niceguy’.

another scene that comes to mind, it’s the conversation that they have in the desert. in the dub, valon goes on about how he can make things better for her, & when she tells him ‘i don’t like you’, he responds in a condescending tone about how he knows how she feels towards him. one of his main issues towards jou, both in dub & sub ( thought the sub emphasizes more on it ) is how dismissive him & the others are of mai’s feelings. the dub just shows how much of a hypocrite he is because he does just that. he tells her how she feels, despite being vulnerable. i’ve watched this scene in spanish & english & while the dialogue is pretty much the same, the only difference is that in the spanish version, he sounds more soft-spoken & ‘casual’. i guess the bad cockey accent didn’t help.

as for the sub, varon tells mai how she feels, but not in the way that the dub portrays. i think we could elude the fact that between episodes, & even before the entire season, there has been interaction between mai & varon. at least, enough for varon to know about her resentment to jou & see some of mai’s pain. he describes how she’s been living her life based on his own experience, because he sees a lot of himself in her.

varon tells her that he is just like that. that he can’t live if he can’t win, just like her. it doesn’t come off as him dictating how she feels or making assumptions, but rather, it’s coming from a place of understanding.

& this is the scene where the confession comes up. i guess, the dub wanted to have this love triangle without saying it was a love triangle ( which i always found weird that they wanted to allude to this, considering the amount of censorship. somehow, it was okay for mai to be interested in a teenager? ). it only goes as far as ‘i know you feel the same way i do’, & left for interpretation. the sub doesn’t do that. varon is always straight-forward with what he says & doesn’t shy away from it. sure, it’s not the most healthy for him to make her his reason of living, but keep in mind that he didn’t have the healthiest of upbringings, either. there’s a lot of things that he needs to learn & overcome before getting into a relationship. especially if it’s with someone who has unresolved issues, as well.

he tells her to ‘be his woman’ ( & whether you want to take that as a display of toxic masculinity or him awkwardly asking her out in a way that doesn’t seem to ‘vulnerable’, it’s up to you ). mai merely responds with ‘you have to defeat me first’, only for him to remind her that he has.

nyeh? nyeh

another thing that the dub loves to do, is dumbing down characters, & varon wasn’t the exception. it was clear that they wanted someone like jou & in the process, they took a lot of those serious / deep moments that varon displayed in the sub. their duel further proves that by having them both wear armour & i will leave it at that because that whole thing gets me so mad lmao. it turns into a duel of ‘i know what’s best for mai despite what she says or thinks’ & even the abridged called it out, because varon came from a place of ‘i’m doing this to help her’ rather than ‘i know what’s best for her’.

thank you 4kids for your censorship!

something you can’t just omit when considering varon’s character, is the way he grew up. the dub literally took about 90% of it & had him seeming almost proud / reminiscent about his time in jail. that’s it. we see him go to an island, win against a bunch of grown-ups & join doma. then what???

now, if one thats the sub backstory in consideration, the way that he acts towards mai isn’t all that strange. in fact, i’d say it explains it. varon had nothing. he grew up an orphan, & a violent one, at that. the only person he appears close to / someone he cares about, is the nun that raised him. she tended to his wounds despite disappointing her & getting into fights even though she had told him to stop. this was someone who hadn’t given up despite him failing her over & over. this was someone he was willing to kill for, if it meant protecting her, & he possibly did. after the church was burnt down, he sought for the men he thought were responsible for it & attacked them with a metal pipe.

he was just a kid. possibly a pre-teen against four grown ass men. it’s unclear whether he killed them or not, but the fact that varon is shown in prison, with adults, leads me to think that he was processed as one due to the degree of the crime. even then, he was still violent & forced into solitary confinement + a straight jacket for who knows how long. & let’s keep in mind that his only way out, was by defeating a bunch of dudes ( basically killing them with the orichalcos ). unlike amelda or rafael, doma wasn’t an escape from his life. it was his freedom.

the guy had nothing & expected nothing. he lived each day as it was, reason why he appears to be so carefree about things. & despite his similarities with jou, let me just say that they’re still not the same. even if jounouchi went through his share of trauma, their experiences were different. the way jou sees or reacts to something, won’t be the way that varon will react to it, & i feel that’s something a lot of people don’t consider.

i think it’s commemorable that despite everything, varon still manages to care for someone as much as he does with mai. he didn’t fight jou to ‘win her over’, he fought him so that he wasn’t setting her back. the dub has valon almost ‘handing her’ to jou after losing, which completely missed the point of that whole duel. because in the sub, varon realizes he may be doing more harm than good & experiences that ‘thrill’ that he had been searching for. he comes to understand mai better, & the fact that he can help her without having to be her saviour.

he trusts jou will bring her to her senses, but also trusts that she will do it, because let me remind you that even in during her ‘weakest moment’, he saw her as a strong woman.

#* out of armour #long post #i feel i had more to say but my brain just nopped so i guess this is it #it will probably come up later on but oh well #this is so long as it is #the point is that varon had good intentions despite also looking to get something from it #& despite wanting to help he also let himself be blinded & go against his own beliefs #the duel against jou is what makes him realize he's just as bad #but even then he never looks down on mai or sees her as a damsel #i think he saw her more as someone who was struggling & needed someone to lean on

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hesmygolden · 5 years ago

Text

we said forever (ch.3)

ch.1 - ch.2

A/N: thank u so much for reading!! I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think. I cannot wait to write about Y/N’s interaction with Harry after the breakup...

CHAPTER 3

It was hard to sleep without the image of Harry and Camille coming into your thoughts every few seconds. You tried your best to distract your mind from it and focus on something else, like the upcoming release of your movie, but it just wasn’t enough to drift your mind away from the blonde woman holding the man who was still the love of your life.

You probably managed to get around four hours of sleep before your alarm woke you up. You felt tired and wanted to sleep some more but remembered that today was the day you were meeting with your manager to get your life back on track again.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you noticed how different you looked now and thought about how real it is when people say that breakups change you.

Your face looked sad.

There was just something about it that made you look so sad and empty, which made you tear up. You wanted to stop feeling this way and you wanted even more to look better than before.

You covered up what you thought looked bad with some makeup and managed to feel a bit better about yourself. You made yourself a cup of coffee and decided to order bagels once you arrived at your office.

Once you arrived at your office, you were greeted by a very optimistic and happy Andrew, your manager, which was followed by a tight hug.

“So happy you’re back!”

“Glad to be here.”

You smiled and stared at him. You could tell he was genuinely happy you were ready to get back to business and he was also relieved the press for the movie could start now.

“Francesca is arriving in about 20 minutes,” Andrew sighed as he picked up his phone to violently type something, “your bagels are on their way too.”

“Good, I’m starving.”

“You look…” He paused as he stared at you, a look of confusion and surprise all over his face, “different.”

“Yeah that’s probably because I lost a little weight and haven’t been getting any sleep.” You cracked a smile to cover up the mess you had become.

“Oh dear,” he shook his head, “you’ll be alright, you just need to get back to your routine and you’ll recover your power.”

You nodded silently and grabbed your phone, trying your best to not open Twitter in case that picture of Harry and Camille popped up.

busy tonight?

You thought it would be a good idea to hang out with Saoirse to get back in track with the world, have a good chat with a friend and get excited about your movie, so you texted her.

Hey Y/N!! Good to hear from ya… I’m free tonight, what’s on your mind? :)

You smiled at the text from your friend, this was going to help you a lot.

let’s grab something to eat at the Beachwood Cafe.

Sounds good! See you at 6?

see you Saoirse!

The smell of the bagels inside the office made your stomach grumble and you were quick to stand up from the sofa and grab your breakfast. The taste of the cream cheese and salmon making you remember how good life could be sometimes.

“Francesca is here!” Andrew said a little too loud and opened the door to greet the tall, platinum blonde haired woman.

Francesca was your hairstylist, she had been doing your hair ever since your career started and you were always happy with the results. Not that you’d ever done something crazy to your hair (unless it was for a movie, which was usually a wig), but you always loved the results.

“Hello sweetheart.” Andrew kissed her on the cheek.

“How’s life treating you Andrew?” She said with a big smile on her face.

“A bit better now that Y/N’s back to work.”

“Y/N dear!”, she squealed as she walked towards you with a look of adoration on her face, you were like a daughter to her, “I’m glad you’re back!”

You helped her set everything up after finishing your breakfast and heard Francesca and Andrew talk about some recent gossip from Gigi Hadid and Zayn Malik. You were so lost with what was going around in the entertainment industry and you honestly didn’t care that much, unless it involved any of your friends.

“So what do you have on mind for me?” You asked Francesca as she mixed colours and grabbed hair brushes.

“I’m bringing back your power dear.” She giggled.

“Francesca-“

“Nothing too different honey, don’t you trust me?”

You sighed and looked at her before nodding and relaxing on the chair. You did not want her to give you a drastic change since you didn’t want to seem like a cry for attention after going through a breakup, it just wasn’t you.

While Francesca did your hair, you went through your schedule for the press release of the movie with Andrew and couldn’t help but feel excited to go back to work even if things were going to be a little different now.

Time went by and you received a text message from Saoirse.

Hey is it okay if Timothée joins us tonight?

yeah, no problem :)

You didn’t think much about it. You had met Timothée Chalamet a few times before and he was a nice guy and a really good actor, but you wouldn’t really call him a friend so you were excited to get to know him better.

“Y/N, I don’t want to bring up this conversation but eventually we’re going to have to talk about this so it’s better to do it now.” Andrew’s words made your heart skip a beat, since you knew exactly what he wanted to talk about.

“Yeah, it’s alright.” You sighed.

“So the press is going to be all over you and they might ask you about Harry, “ he looked straight into your eyes, afraid you would break anytime soon, “do you know.. uh you know…”

“Have I talked to him? No, I haven’t.” You cut him off.

“But do y-“

“Know that he’s with Camille now?” You asked coldly.

Francesca bit her lips and focused on drying your hair while Andrew cleared his throat and nodded.

“I saw something on Twitter last night so I can only assume they’re a thing.” You said and took a sip of your coffee, trying your hardest to not cry.

“Well, they are.”

You knew what Andrew’s response was going to be but it still hit you like a thousand knives.

“They went public a month and a half after your breakup.” He finished.

“What do you mean they went public?” you raised your voice, which caught Andrew and Francesca by surprise, “Did Harry tweet or post something about her or what do you mean by that huh? Because he is not the type to make a relationship public.”

Andrew scratched his neck as he grabbed his phone, trying his best to not make eye contact with you since he did not want to see you cry.

“She posted a picture with him and later he confirmed it on a radio interview.” He said quietly.

You just nodded and felt your eyes getting teary.

“Well,” you fake laughed, “it’s what he and his team wanted anyway right?”

Andrew remained quiet and Francesca noticing the awkward silence, decided to join the conversation.

“Oh honey,” she exclaimed, “who needs a man anyway?”

You smiled at her in a thankful way and stared at your finished hair.

You let a tear fall down your face and brushed it off with a smile as you touched your hair.

You looked really great.

She had darkened up your hair a bit and given it a better form as well as a special keratin treatment which ended up looking amazing. You felt like a new woman and you were definitely ready to get back your life.

After saying goodbye to your manager and thanking Francesca for helping your self esteem get back on track, you headed to the Beachwood Cafe to meet Saoirse and Timothée, clearly not expecting to run into the one and only Harry Styles with his new girlfriend.

#harries #Harry Styles #harry styles one shot #one shot harry styles #harry styles imagine #imagine harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x actress #harry styles x y/n #harry edward styles #harry styles fanfiction #solo harry #solo harry styles

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agenzproject · 3 years ago

Text

Love above all

It’s been years. Years since I last felt the comfort in her texts.

I thought I could move on. How foolish I was. I find myself chuckling as I recall old me bravely telling her goodbye.

I stare out the window of the car as the quiet uber driver takes me to the hotel I will be staying in. London is exactly as I expected it to be. Gloomy, Grey and rainy.

Staring at the raindrops falling on the window, my mind starts chasing a train of thought. If there’s anything that movies have taught me, it’s that the heart must always be followed. And my heart, it yearns for her.

I haven’t heard from her since I turned sixteen, which was six years ago. I wonder if she still remembers me. I am sure she does not. Yet, I must satisfy this desire within the muscle that dominates my nerves.

We met through text, on a BTS fan account.

I didn’t even know her real name yet, ‘lover’ was enough to know her. We never shared pictures, yet I saw her in my dreams. I had never heard her voice yet; her words were enough to soothe me. I didn’t even know if she was a girl, yet I imagined being with her forever. I didn’t even know if she was real, yet I led myself to find comfort in my moments shared with her.

Was I chasing a dream, or was I going to reunite with the love of my life?

The sudden halt of the uber pulls me out of my thoughts and I look over to see that we have parked in front of the hotel I have a room reserved in.

I smile and thank the driver, to which he responds with an earnest nod. He is a nice man. As I step out, he calls out to me.

“You sure you don’t need an umbrella?”

I look up to see the sky painted Grey, my favorite colour. A smile takes its place on my face and I shake my head. “No, sir, I don’t think that will be necessary. Thank you for offering.”

He nods once again and waits for me to reach the Valet standing at the front door before he drives away.

The valet, a young man in his twenties with blonde hair and brown eyes, bends down in a curt bow upon my arrival and I nod at him.

As I’m about to enter through the sliding doors, I hear yelling and turn to see a man, who I assume is in his thirties, shouting at a girl who is no less than ten for running out onto the road and playing in the rain with her favourite clothes on.

The exchange warms my heart as I watch the girl nod and the father then lead her over to another building, soft yet angry as he does so. It reminds me of my own father. A strong-willed man with a firm hand on things. And it also reminds me of why I have to be in London like this in the first place.

I sigh at the thought, recalling all those nights he yelled at me.

I walk over to the receptionist and smile at the young-looking woman. She offers me a well-practiced smile in return. “How may I help you, miss?”

“I made a reservation under the name Aqsa Malik.” I tell her.

She nods and after seeing proof of my identity, hands me the key to my room on the second floor.

I leave for the elevator after thanking her but before I press the button, I notice two young ladies sitting in the lounge, close to each other. They clearly aren’t English and judging by the curly hair and Arabic written on the bags, I would assume they are from North Africa.

I feel a smile tugging at my lips as I press the elevator button after noticing the two marital silver bands on their ring fingers.

Inside the elevator, I inhale and exhale deeply, happy for those two women, who seemed only a tad bit older than me.

It is a good time to be homosexual. I hope that this works out for me too. I hope that the girl I came to see resonates with me. I hope she agrees that now is the right time. Because six years ago, if you were born a Muslim female, being lesbian always ended in tragedy.

I was hoping this would be an exception as I entered my three-star hotel room, heading straight for the bed, ready for some rest.

Before I slip into my bed-sheets for some sleep, I play a few songs that remind me of her.

Blue and Grey by V is what encouraged me to confess to her.

Rewrite the Stars from the musical, The Greatest Showman, was the song we listened to think of each other.

Talking to the Moon by Bruno Mars was what made me cry every night after we cut communication.

These songs lull me into a peaceful sleep as the soft rain keeps patting my window, giving the room a sense of coolness.

He yelled at me. He told me to forget her.

I wished I had just turned the tab off when my father got home, pretending as if nothing had ever happened. But I didn’t, and he ended up reading all of my texts with her, with a long lecture following afterwards.

Being a Muslim with an ex-girlfriend isn’t easy, especially when you’re just fifteen.

“You’re too young to even think about these things!” He yelled. “How can you determine your sexuality at just fifteen! Straight is the natural orientation of a person, drop this lesbian bullshit!”

I hadn’t cried. I didn’t say anything in response. It would have been of no use. Rewa had already broken up with me, albeit she had said she would still like for us to be friends.

I had apologized to my father a few days later and snuck online through another device, from where I was caught later on as well, all of this happening in a span of just two months.

Three months later, I had a friend contact Rewa’s social media and tell her I’m okay.

We both finally had the chance to talk again over Wattpad.

I smiled, satisfied as I texted her a detailed message on how I was planning to meet her, asking her as much details as the online relationship would allow me to.

I promised her that till the day we met, I would sing Blue and Grey every night the moon was visible in the sky. And I did just that.

But then a text appeared on my screen once she had received the message.

‘Aqsa, I think we should break up.’

Confusion filled my insides. Weren’t we already broken up? If she didn’t want to be in a relationship with me, why would she lead me on and sweet talk me like that so much?

I was furious. For a few moments, I had no idea what to say to her.

Then, I did.

‘Wait, aren’t we already broken up?

Did you seriously forget that you broke up with me?

Did you really sweet talk me all that much just to make me go through the worst moment of my life a second time?

Now I know what my dad feels like every time I go up to him with a half-assed apology with no intention of listening to him a second time.

Unless you have anything important to say,

Goodbye, Rewa.’

And that was the last thing I ever said to her. She didn’t answer and I deleted our chats, promising myself to never look back. Oh, how bad I am at sticking to promises.

Maybe I should’ve gone easier on her. She was just thirteen, after all.

I haven’t sung Blue and Grey to the moon since.

The words come out of my mouth as I stare at the moon, having woken up from my sleep at 3 a.m. My voice comes out deep and heavy, my heart aching with every worse.

Where’s my angel?

I’m sick and tired of everything,

Someone come and save myself,

‘Cuz I am feeling blue and Grey,

Everywhere I go, everything I see,

Can you look at me ‘cause I am blue and Grey?

Every time I smile, Every time I cry,

Can you look at me ‘cause I am blue and Grey?

Oh, I just wanna be happier,

Baby don’t you let me go,

I feel tired in the winter sky,

I just wanna feel stronger

The tears slip down my cheeks without warning as I sit at the chair, huddling into myself further.

I hope she remembers me when I pay her a surprise visit in the morning.

Anxiety is getting the best of me as I stand in front of her college dorm room. Should I knock?

What if her roommate thinks I’m weird? What if Rewa reports me to security? What if she hates me? What if she wants to have nothing to do with me?

I try walking away but then tell myself that I didn’t come all the way from Pakistan just to run away when I am right at her doorstep. I miss her, and whether she does or not, doesn’t matter. I have to see her.

I knock at the door, swallowing down my fear as a shudder runs through my body.

I have to do this. There is no turning back now.

The door opens. A tall, dark skinned, African woman, looks down at me.

It is her.

My breath gets caught in my throat as I stare at her in awe.

It has to be her. Dark skin, curly black hair tied in a pony above her head, and about six feet tall. It is, without a doubt, Olanrewaju, my ex-girlfriend.

Holy shit.

I am not prepared for this.

“Um, can I help you?” She asks, concerned. Her voice is deep, yet smooth as she speaks in a British accent.

I just offer a weak nod, still taking her appearance in for the first time. I try to say hi but it just comes out as a guttural croak. Embarrassing.

“Um, are you okay?” She touches my shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before. What’s your name?”

Upon her touching my shoulder, my body tenses tenfold. She quickly retreats upon noticing my panicked expression.

“I’ll let you inside and give you a glass of water.” She takes a hold of my forearm, and gently walks me into her dorm.

I don’t register my surroundings as I continue to stare at her strong and bold figure. This is the love of my life and she doesn’t even know it.

She sits me down on what I assume is her bed as she walks over to the jug of water on the table. Thankfully, I caught her alone. Roommate isn’t home.

Rewa presses a full glass of water up to my lips and makes sure it all goes down, allowing me to inhale deep breaths, trying to regain my posture.

It takes a few minutes, but I get better.

I nod at her, offering a small smile.

She smiles back. “Now, tell me, what’s your name?”

I stare at her, my gaze piercing hers. “Aqsa.”

There is a flash of something in her eyes that I hope is familiarity and I think I am right when she takes a double take. “What?”

“Aqsa.” I repeat, as if I have no idea what history she might have with that name. “Why?”

She frowns in confusion, her eyes scanning my entire figure before she shakes her head. “Oh, uh, nothing.”

I nod.

“Where’re you from?” She asks. It’s no secret that she’s trying to figure out if I am the Aqsa she knew all those years ago.

“Pakistan.” I tell her.

Her frown deepens. “Where did you grow up?”

I have decided that I’m going to let her figure it out on her own and act as if I’ve never met her. “Why do you ask?”

She shakes her head a bit, then raises her eyebrows. “Middle East?”

She remembers. I nod.

Her breath hitches just a little and she visibly gulps, studying my features carefully.

“Do I know you?” She asks, her voice small and doubtful.

I stare into her big eyes and nod.

She exhales and looks away, leaning back in the chair next to the bed. She folds her arms across her chest, pondering the situation, her expression unreadable. But the tension in her posture can be sensed without having to try twice. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you I’d find my way to you, didn’t I?” I tilt my head, a soft smile on my face.

She clenches her jaw and I can feel the heavy emotion in the atmosphere that replaces her prior concern. “You also said goodbye.” Her voice is heavy.

I pursue my lips in a thin line and nod. “That wasn’t a promise. I promised that I would come to you when I could, though.”

“How did you find me?” Her voice is a bit steady, yet forceful.

I smile. “You told me you lived in London. I have connections around the place. I have the internet. I know you wanted to study mechanical engineering so searching in all the good colleges amongst the mechanical engineering students was the best way to go about it.”

She is looking at me now, her dark chocolate eyes searching my face for something. “You remember?” Her voice cracks as the words leave her mouth.

I nod, trying my best to not get teary-eyed five minutes into our reunion.

Rewa clears her throat and tries to regain her steady posture. “And what about you? What are you doing?”

Ah, small talk. I allow myself to relax. “I’m studying medicine. I’m in my third year. Also, I’m writing.”

She nods and points at something behind me. I turn around to see a small wooden shelf nailed to the wall above her bed, all of my books resting on top of it.

A small smile appears on my face and my jaw stings, an indicator that I am about to cry. “That’s all of them.”

“I had two since when you first wrote them four years ago and then I just gave up, trying to forget you.” She tells me. “But then Noah noticed them and bought more books as gifts.”

“Noah?” I turn to look at her, frowning a bit in confusion.

She sighs and sits back once again. “He thought that maybe I like the writer, so got all the books he could find written by her.”

I nod, that not being what I wanted for the answer. “Who’s Noah?”

Rewa sighs again. “Forget him. He’s unimportant.”

I clutch the glass in my hands tighter, my desire for knowing who Noah was increasing. I am a curious person. I try to shrug it off by distracting myself with something else.

“Where’s your roommate?” I ask.

She looks to the side to see an empty bed. “Semester just started, so she’s out with her friends.”

“You got any?”

Rewa nods. “One is at home due to an emergency and another is probably at her job right now.”

“Do you have a job?”

She shakes her head. “My parents are still paying for me, it’s all going smoothly. They say I have to start paying my own fees when third year starts.”

I nod. That sounds reasonable.

“They’re divorced, right?” I remember she mentioned it.

She nods and there’s an emotion on her face I have a little trouble trying to understand. She seems satisfied, yet in pain, as if she wished I didn’t remind her of her parents. But on the other hand, she seems happy that I cared enough to remember.

“How’s your sister?” I ask, recalling that she mentioned having a younger sister.

Rewa’s expression eases a little as she thinks of her sister. “She’s doing great. Last year of high school then college.”

“That’s good.” I nod.

The door to the room opens and we both turn to see a girl about Rewa’s age standing there, studying me with her critical green eyes, attempting to determine who I am. Her white skin is covered in patches of brown, as if she was playing in the mud.

Once she’s established that she doesn’t know me, she turns to Rewa for an explanation. “Ju?” Her voice is an indicator to the fact that she’s sensed something is wrong.

Rewa sighs. “An old friend.” Then she addresses me. “Aqsa, this is my roommate, Jessica.”

Jessica advances towards me in a friendly manner, extending her hand out for me to shake, her thin lips forming a warm smile. “Nice to meet you. You can call me Jess.” She has a Scottish accent.

I smile back and shake her hand, nodding. “Nice to meet you too, Jess.”

She nods, her curly, red hair bobbing as she does so. “Where’re you from?” She lets my hand go.

“Pakistan.” I answer. “You?”

“Scotland.” She laughs. “Anyways, I have to hit the shower. See you later.”

I nod. “See you.”

Once Jessica is gone, I turn back to Rewa. “Wanna go out for a drive?”

“You have a car?”

“I rented it.”

She seems to ponder over the offer for a bit, as if carefully weighing the pros and cons of going on a ride with her ex. Finally, she nods. “I don’t see why I can’t go.”

The walk towards the rented Honda is quiet as Rewa seems to be deep in thought while I take in my surroundings, not feeling too nervous to notice them anymore. It’s still cloudy outside, but I think it won’t rain till late in the evening.

I get into the car parked outside the campus and Rewa hesitates once she’s opened the door to the passenger seat. She bows down and looks at me. “Where are we going?”

“We’re circling the next five blocks until we get tired.” I tell her.

She whips out her phone and I think she texts somebody that. A faint smile appears on my face. This is my Rewa. Wary of everybody, no matter how trustworthy they may seem.

She then enters the car and closes the door, fastening her seatbelt.

I start the car and smile at her. “You really think a bestselling author would try to kidnap you?”

She gives me a sheepish smile, a little pink creeping up her cheeks. “You only have one bestseller and I don’t want to take any chances.”

I nod, turning forwards, driving onto the road. “You’d probably win in a fight against me anyway.”

At that, she laughs and that is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard in my life. More beautiful than a waterfall splashing into a river below it. I want to be the one who keeps her laughing like that all the time.

Her laugh dies down after some time and we fall quiet.

“Do you still listen to K-pop?” I ask her, breaking the silence.

“Sometimes.”

“BTS?”

“Yeah. They disbanded though.”

“I know that.” I nod. “Can I play a song?”

“Which one?”

“I don’t know…” I think for a minute, observing the wet streets of London. “Spring day?”

She seems to ponder over it too before agreeing to play Spring day. Once the music plays in the car, something… settles within me. I feel… calm. I don’t know if it’s because of the song or because I’m finally meeting Rewa, but I enjoy this feeling.

The song ends in a few minutes and it’s quiet again. But this time, it’s welcome. It’s not awkward, it feels good.

“Can we be friends again?” I ask all of a sudden.

She doesn’t respond for at least two minutes before nodding. “Wont your dad find out?”

“He doesn’t need to know it’s you.” I smile. “Besides, I’ll be independent in two years and have a job, so no worries.”

“Wont he get you married after that?” She asks.

Why does she care about that? I suggested being friends. Maybe… she’s hoping we can be more? My stomach does a flip at that exciting thought.

“I’ll get out of there.” I tell her. “Do a job here, be free of their restricting opinions.”

She doesn’t respond.

“Will you give me another chance?” In the silence, I ask her the question I have been aching to ask for a long time.

“At dating?” She gets right down to the point.

I shrug. “If you want to. I just want to be a part of your life again.”

“So, it doesn’t matter how?” She asks.

I draw in a deep breath. “I just want to make you happy. I still love you. You can decide how I make you happy. I can be whatever you want me to be. My love for you exists beyond any label this world could slap on us.”

There’s silence again. Then she speaks up. “You’re still the same.”

I blink, eyes still on the road. “What?”

“Before, when we used to text,” She says. “You’d always say something that would fluster me so much. You’re still the same.”

At that, I smile, recalling all the many times I would say something cheesy and make her feel butterflies in her stomach. “Glad to know.”

She gives a soft chuckle in response. “I think we can start off fresh, with you as my friend. I still need time getting over Noah, so-“

“Noah was your date?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is quiet.

“What happened?” I ask, concerned. I swear if this Noah hurt her, I might just have to put ‘become a hitwoman’ on my bucket list, not that I haven’t already considered that.

She lets out a puff of breath, hugging herself. “I don’t know, we both wanted very different things from life. He was too serious about it and I wanted to focus on my future.”

“Oh.” That is all I can say. Noah hadn’t hurt her so there was no reason to be mad. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“So, we can be friends?” I smile.

“Of course.”

I feel all giddy on the inside.

I look to my side and smile at her, slowing the car down. She smiles back, both of us sharing eye contact for a swift moment before I turn back to the road.

I go back to the radio on the car and play Seesaw by Suga, a song and artist we both adore to pieces.

And at that moment, as Suga’s soothing voice instills a sense of safety and Rewa at my side awakes a sense of assurance, I feel complete.

Who knows?

Maybe I can make her love me again, we can resume our relationship and maybe even get married.

Live a happy life.

Six years later, standing at the altar, Blue and Grey playing in the background, as I hold Rewa’s hands, I realize just how right I was.

“I love you, Aqsa.”

“I love you so, my love.”

“I declare you married! You may kiss!”

And we do. A beautiful, passionate kiss, marking the beginning of our life together.

Some tales do have happy endings.

A Story by Riley Gray

#submission #short story #a gen z project #1k to 5k

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lunavadash-creates · 4 years ago

Text

Hunting for Santa Claus

Oneshot No pairing Altaïr and Malik as children Warning: none Read on my ao3 😁

"Have you heard about this Christian prisoner?" Malik asked while walking into Altaïr's room. In his hands, there was a box with knives they were supposed to sharpen for the Assassins. Maintaining knives was one of the duties for children of the Assassins, it was teaching them patience and respect for the weapons, the value of hard, honest work.

Altaïr raised his gaze from the knife he was polishing and looked at his best friend questioningly.

"I heard him talking with another prisoner. Do you know they believe in Santa Claus?"

"What is Santa Claus?" asked Altaïr, furrowing his eyebrows.

"According to him, it's some priest who used to give children presents and help people in need. Even after his death, he comes back every 6th December to give children presents." Malik was quite excited while talking story about Saint Nicholas. He had always been interested in history, in books and all the secrets and legends, something Altaïr couldn't quite understand. But they still were best friends, who supported each other no matter what. They got into troubles together, and together they escaped them.

"They said they received sweets and little gifts years ago, and they even tried to capture him, but no avail."

"You don't believe in such nonsense, do you?"

"6th December is tomorrow. Why won't we check it out? We can make a trap and capture this Christian ghost. Don't you think Al Mualim would be happy?"

Since Malik knew Altaïr since the beginning, he knew how to manipulate him. Altaïr would do anything to impress Al Mualim. So the moment Altaïr looked away, Malik knew he had won. He always did this, to hide his thoughtful expression.

But for Altaïr, who lost his father too early and never had the opportunity to meet his mother, Al Mualim was the only adult who cared about him. He was his substitute for a family, the only one he knew.

"Fine. We can try to hunt down that Claus of yours."

They decided to set a trap in Kadar's room.

He was only four years old, still an innocent child who did not yet know about the Assassins. He was blessed with unawareness of the secret war they were participating in. And because of it, they decided he was the best person to observe. If in the whole of Masyaf there was a child who deserved a present from a weird man, it was Kadar. And because it wasn't unusual for Malik to visit his brother at night choosing his room was the most uncomplicated option. Only Altaïr had to sneak in with all the necessary tools.

Soon they started to work on their traps. Malik was making sure no one would be able to walk through the door without getting their attention.

His trap was simple - whoever would walk through the door would pull the string that was attached to the heavy bucket full of stones. It should be enough to stun a grown-up man, but not enough to kill anyone. Unless it was someone short, who would be hit straight in the head. But both - Malik and Altaïr assumed that Santa Claus cannot be a little man. As someone who was breaking into people's houses and castles, he had to be strong enough to fight guards!

On the other side of the room, Altaïr was setting another trap on the window. If Santa Claus decided to come through it, he would activate another mechanism. String attached to the window would make a ball filled with white paint fall on the man's face, impairing his vision. Neither of the traps were supposed to kill anyone. They were just giving Malik and Altaïr a chance to attack the man and capture him. In the end, Al Mualim definitely would question a strange man, with the ability to break into Masyaf Castle.

As soon as all the traps were set, both boys sat down on the floor, in complete darkness so as not to scare away the Santa Claus. They were wrapped in one blanket and had knives in their hands, ready to attack whenever someone would try to sneak in.

Time was passing terribly slowly when they sat like this, waiting. Before midnight it was Malik who slowly started to drift away. His head fell on Altaïr's shoulder. The other boy wasn't feeling better either, his eyelids became heavier with each passing seconds.

"Don't you dare fall to sleep on me, it was your idea," he muttered and yawned.

"What do think Santa Claus looks like?" asked Malik, deciding that talking should keep them both awake.

"I don't know. Maybe he is as old as Al Mualim? Strong and stealthy...?"

"And smart! He needs to avoid all kinds of traps, I'm sure we aren't the only one who tried to capture him."

"But we are the best!" Altaïr said, a bit too loud, as the result, Malik quickly covered his mouth. Kadar turned around in his bed but didn't wake up so Malik let go of Altaïr face.

"How do you want to be an Assassin if you can't keep silent?" Malik furrowed his brows, mocking Altaïr, it was this pleasure he could hardly deny himself.

"On the day I will be better than you, you will see. And all generations of Assassins will tell the story about how I caught Santa Claus," he muttered, making Malik snort.

"You wish."

Then, they heard a sound, one that made them jerk up.

"Did you hear that?" Malik asked excitedly. Soon there was another sound, louder this time. It sounded like someone was walking while carrying something heavy. Or maybe just the person was weighty? It didn't sound like steps of an Assassin.

Both boys stood up, ready to attack the intruder. It was clear for them that Santa Claus would come through the door, so Malik and Altaïr had to be ready for attack. They heard as the steps got closer and then there was a thud on the ground that made them jump. The door slowly opened, activating the mechanism and the bucket full of stones fell down. The person managed to jump away before the attack, so the bucked hit the wall and spill stones around with a loud noise. It made Kadar wake up suddenly, but Altaïr and Malik didn't waste a second, they jumped on the person, ready to fight.

"Malik? Altaïr?! What on earth are you doing?!" the angry voice of Malik's father made them stop midstep. Soon in the room other Assassins appeared, all still in their sleeping robes, wielding weapons, ready to fight and protect their home. No one expected to find two 8 years old boys, still holding knives and Faheem, Malik's father, looking at them disapprovingly.

"I'm sorry for waking you up, brothers. I have to talk to my son and his friend," he said, dismissing the rest of the annoyed Assassins. He waited until they were alone and then crossed his arms.

"What on earth are you two doing! This thing," he pointed at the metal bucket, "could kill someone untrained!"

"I'm sorry dad, we just tried to catch Santa Claus," said Malik and inclined his head apologetically.

"You tried to do what?" the man asked, not understanding anything. He was about to ask another question when the window slammed open.

Both boys looked at it surprised and saw their trap untouched.

"Did you see it?! We set a trap there!"

"He has to have broken inside already!" exclaimed Altaïr.

Faheem furrowed his brows and stopped the boys from going to the window. He went himself to investigate the trap and with surprise realised that it was actually really well done. As soon as he closed the window the ball full of paint fell down and splashed on his arm when he covered his face.

"What are you two...-"

"I'm sorry, Faheem. Al Mualim wants to talk with them. Right now." An Assassin just walked through the door, interrupting the talk Faheem was about to give to the boys.

"What were you thinking?!" Al Mualim was looking at the two boys, standing in front of him. They were both looking at the ground, visibly ashamed about how this whole situation turned out.

"We wanted to catch Santa Claus..." said Malik silently.

"Why?"

"We thought you'd be happy if we gave you a Christian spy," added Altaïr.

Al Mualim's gaze became softer when he heard their reasoning. He couldn't hide the pride he suddenly felt. Two boys wanted to catch Santa, not to take gifts, but to serve the Brotherhood. Indeed, they had a great future in the Brotherhood.

Al Mualim walked closer to boys and kneeled in front of them, putting his hands on their shoulders in a fatherly gesture.

"Santa Claus is a legend. Christians tell it to their children and they themselves hide presents for them. But I'm actually proud of you two. You wanted to serve the Brotherhood and from what I heard, you were well prepared. So I won't draw any consequences. But you have to clean Faheem's bracer and robe and clean Kadar's room."

Both boys looked at each other and then at their master, with smiles.

"Thank you, Master!" they both exclaimed.

"And don't do that again."

"Yes, Master!"

"Now, go straight to your beds."

As soon as the boys came back to the room they shared, they noticed something weird. On their beds, there were little packages. They immediately grabbed them and unpacked them, only to see sweets and a little note saying 'from Santa Claus'. Grins appeared on each boys' face as they looked at each other, already knowing that next year they will be much better prepared.

#Altair Ibn La'Ahad #malik al sayf #Assassin's Creed #assassin's creed 1 #ac 1 #ac: 1 #Altair ibn la ahad #fanfiction #Luna Writes #christmas story #i know its past christmas #and i dont care #santa is forever

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lokisrare · 5 years ago

Text

birdie

pairings: ben hardy x ofc.

word count: 4.6k

a/n: i hate this but i love this, also, spoiler: i hate cassie. i don’t really know what it is, but let me know what you think and if you want to know what happens next lmao. oh, by the way this was heavily inspired by break my heart by dua lipa.

June 6th, 2010.

“Well damn, you look HOT.” I gushed when Sydney walked out of the changing room.

She sent a smile towards me while fixing her hair, it must’ve been freaking hard to get on that dress, I think to myself when I look up and down her body, the dress hugging her body just right, but still, the material looked incredibly uncomfortable and her face just confirmed that to me.

“I feel like someone’s pinching my nipples constantly, like here…, ugh it hitches so bad,” she says trying to fix the top of the dress and I laugh at her struggling to make the dress work.

“Syd, why don’t you try something else, you’re going to look good anyway,” all I receive is a death glare and I just know she’s telling me to fuck off while still trying to find a way to feel comfortable.

She huffs and gets into the changing room, closing the pink curtain a little too aggressively, I suppress a giggle knowing she’s having a hard time and I’d probably end up with my hair pulled if I keep making fun of her. “Everybody Talks” by Neon Trees is playing which makes me roll my eyes annoyed, it had become my young sister’s favorite song so it was on repeat almost every hour of the day, just listening to it gave me a horrid headache.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just go with the first one,” Sydney says finally getting out. I nod, a very genuine and happy smile plastered on my face, it was 6.30 pm and we had left my house at 4, to say I was hungry and tired was an understatement.

“I really hate you, Cass, you know that right?” Sydney says as we finally get to my house, most specifically: my room. I run straight to my bed, my back thanking me for finally having a moment to rest after being walking and standing still for three hours straight. “I don’t really know how you choose so easily; I just can’t decide when it comes to shopping.”

I smile with my eyes closed hearing Syd grabbing the make-up bag as she seats in front of the mirror, “I just go for black, that’s my secret, black’s the right decision. Always.”

“Your whole wardrobe is black, Cassie.” I don’t see her but I can tell she rolled her eyes, annoyed. “You could’ve at least gone for something red this time or maroon or grey.”

I prop on my elbows scanning my open (and messy) closet, well… maybe I owned a lot of black clothes but it is just a glorious color, or not actually a color but who cares, black just rocks and it was easily combined.

“I promise I’ll wear something else next time.”

Sydney looks at me with a sarcastic expression, raising an eyebrow.

“No, you won’t.” Nope, I won’t.

I grab the curling iron next to my night table: “Curls, straight or should I just go natural?” Sydney shrugs looking at me intently, her lips pressed together, after a few seconds she just clicks her tongue and turns around.

“Whatever you feel like doing today, babe, you’ll look pretty anyway,” she pauses. “And Ben will like it anyway.”

“SYDNEY, NO.”

“What?” She says smirking at me through the mirror. “Oh, come on you can’t possibly think I don’t realize, the tension is obvious,” she smiles satisfied at my petrified expression. “Besides he’s a Capricorn, Capricorn and Scorpios have AMAZING SEX.”

“SYDNEY” I shout throwing a heart shaped pillow at her while she laughs uncontrollably, “He’s my brother’s friend, your step brother and almost 3 years older.”

“Your brother does not care at all, I don’t either and you didn’t say nothing about the sex thing so you little bastards have been really sneaky about it but I’m the devil and I found a condom on the bathroom trash the other day,” I set a mental reminder to slap Ben when I see him tonight, “It wasn’t mine so it was either from my parents or from Ben. And your face just told me it was from Ben,” she stops and then wrinkles her nose, “Ugh, disgusting. Let’s move on from this topic, please.”

“You started it.”

“I thought he was fooling around with Candace, she’s been after him the whole year, it looks like she knows he’s leaving soon. Besides I heard the rumor they slept together, I’m sure she started it.”

“Yeah, I think she knows, that’s why she’s been so clingy.” I cringe thinking of it. “Well if it’s true then her wish finally came true.”

The disgusted tone in my voice making me feel kind of angry at myself, just as much as the thought of Ben fooling around with Candace and I know Sydney can tell. I wasn’t very surprised when I first found out she’d been trying to get his attention the whole year, her obsession with Ben wasn’t new and she seemed a little too desperate, but she wasn’t a bad person, maybe too much of a bimbo girl but still, a nice person and Ben had always found a way to avoid her.

When Malik came up to me with rumor it made my stomach turn, giving the fact that two weeks ago he had me pinned against a wall at some random party while we had a (very steamy) make out session hoping my brother wouldn’t find us. Fucking. Ben.

“I don’t think that’s true at all, I totally think she spread the rumor herself with some friend’s help.” I sighed at Sydney insistence, “besides the whole situation is so weird, he is constantly running away from her and just one day they, like, fuck? Uh-uh, that just not makes sense, maybe she’s blackmailing him.” I laugh at her occurrence. Only Sydney, of course. “I truly hope my theory is not true, that’d be, like, pyscho behavior.”

“Yeah, but still, it might be true, we don’t know” I say getting up and throwing the curling iron on top of my bed. Curls it is, I think. “I believe there’s pizza on the fridge, is that ok for you or what do you want?”

Sydney thinks for a few seconds, “yeah, pizza’s fine, I’ll just eat a tiny bit though because I want to get really wasted really fast today and that’s way easier if I have an empty stomach.”

“You’re going to die.”

“Oh well, but it’s not going to hurt if my drunk as hell.”

“Touché.”

The dress hugged my curves just fine but I still felt like I was trying very hard to convince myself I really liked the way I looked with this way too short dress and I hadn’t just bought it because I knew it would catch Ben’s attention; I was upset knowing I was just about to leave my house wearing something just not-me at all to impress a stupid boy.

He’s not stupid and you know it.

“You look gorgeous, breathtaking and completely uncomfortable.” I turned around, Syd was standing leaning against the door frame looking effortlessly beautiful, her blonde hair straight and the loose baby pink dress making her look absolutely angelic.

“I am terribly uncomfortable, and I hate the fact the I’m about to take it off because it costed me good money I could’ve used to buy something I actually liked.” I said raising my voice, feeling angry at myself again, for the same reason, “I hate myself sometimes.”

Sydney giggles as she looked through my closet, smiling triumphantly when she found what she was looking for: a short black skirt and a grey blouse.

“I love this outfit on you, please change, you’re radiating so much negativity wearing that outfit besides the look on your face makes it seems like it’s causing you actual pain to be wearing this.” She stated and then lowered her eyes to my feet, “Oh god, Cassie, take those heels off, those are not even your favorite ones, put on your white vans, do yourself a favor, please.” I groaned as I got up feeling defeated and absolutely ridiculous to say the least.

Once I was changed, I felt my confidence coming back again, I looked pretty and I looked like me, Sydney got up from the bed clapping happily.

“Yay! That’s my Cassie, you look gorgeous!” she grabbed my hand dragging me downstairs way too fast and excitedly, making my chest crash against her back when she stopped abruptly at the end of the stair, turning around violently, “It’s not like you didn’t look gorgeous before, it’s just… now you look gorgeous and your face doesn’t look like you’re in the middle of a funeral.” I scoffed punching her arm but a giggle escaped my mouth making both of us laugh, right before we saw the taxi parking outside.

“Ok, let’s do it giiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirl.” I opened the door as Syd put two little vodka bottles inside of her little purse. “All done, and just to re-clarify, you look amazing and Ben’s going to love how you look, you really don’t need to try so hard, he already likes you.”

“Oh my God, STOP, let’s go Syd.” I said pushing her outside the house.

“Just saying.”

The house was packed, way too packed for a place so small, the air was filled with smoke from the cigarettes and the smoke machine placed on top of an old couch. I looked around trying to find my friends or at least my brother.

You’re looking for him.

I rolled my eyes annoyed at myself, once again. I wasn’t looking for him, or maybe a little, but it’s not like I was desperate. Or too desperate.

“My niñas, over here mis amores!” A curly haired boy calls from inside the little kitchen. Lucas. He had two girls clung to his sides, fighting for his attention, I smirk looking at him as he excuses himself with the girls and start making his way towards us. Poor girls, if they only knew.

“Ugh, I’m already hating this place and I’ve been here for just 20 minutes.” He states right after kissing Syd and I’s both cheeks.

Sydney takes the vodka bottles out of her purse making Lucas smile widely as he puts his hand on his chest. Oh my god. I already knew I was going to be tonight’s babysitter.

“Yas! You are my Blondie Number One angel, Syd.” Lucas grabbed her cheeks pecking her on the lips, looking behind them I saw the two girls from earlier, both with annoyed looks as they turned around to leave the place, Lucas hand grabbed my arm, catching my attention, “Why so distracted? Looking for Blondie Number Two?” He asked raising his eyebrows repeatedly. “He got in here right before you guys but since Candace the Crazy was looking for him since she got here, he completely disappeared.” He said looking around, his arms resting on Sydney’s shoulders, “Nope, Blondie Number Two’s not around. To be honest I’m kind of worried Candace is blackmailing him.” he stated clicking his tongue.

Sydney let out a very exaggerated high pitched scream, “I thought THE SAME and Cassie won’t believe it.”

“Guys, both of you are insane, completely insane, let the poor girl live.”

Hypocrite.

“Oh c’mon, two weeks ago you were ready to sneak into Daisy Clinton’s room to do the nasty with Benny-Boy for like the 100th time now you just don’t care? I don’t buy it baby, no no, not when you came in here looking like a lost puppy.” I opened my mouth ready to say something but Lucas spoke first also interrupting Sydney whom was about to complain since she was the last person to find out or to figure it out, actually, “And don’t tell me you were looking for your brother. I. Know. You. Cassidy. Peters.”

I just shrugged trying to not show him how fucking right he was, and also trying not to accept to myself I’ve been looking for him the entire time we stood in the middle of the tiny kitchen. Sydney gave me the finger and then made her way towards the improvised dance floor carrying Lucas with her.

Now I was seated on the corner of the living room watching Logan Lawrence, our school’s quarter back make out with one of the shyest girls from our school. Poor girl. She’s so going to regret it tomorrow… and forever probably. Logan was just that disgusting. I kept looking around when I started cursing at myself, I’ve been sitting here for almost half on hour looking at Sydney and Lucas get wasted just because I was trying to find the boy I was desperately craving for and he was nowhere to be seen, which was bad, but I had seen Candace dance around looking absolutely drunk, which was good, but it also meant Ben could be with any other girl, which was bad. Really bad. For me, of course.

My phone buzzed, three messages from Jonas, also known as my brother.

Jo: bring me a whisky pleeeeeeeease

Jo: no one will realize, I’m on the roof with the boys

Jo: please cass, be a good sis

I huffed but still got up ready to do what he asked me to, I mean, it’s not like I was doing anything better. I grabbed the bottle of whisky and a very drunk boy stared at me, I was ready for him to say something but he just smiled and gave me the thumbs up, I laughed a little and waved him goodbye as I made my way upstairs.

How the fuck do I get to the roof?

Cass: how do I get there?

Jo: first floor, the room with the green door at the right, take the stairs

Jo: be fast, there’s like a lot of people getting at it

Well fuck. Once I got to the first floor the green door was the first one I saw, an AC/DC poster on it, I breathed in and opened it, trying to get used to the dark looking where the hell was the supposed way to the roof; not giving a single fuck I opened the door again learning a lot of lovely words from the people hiding in there, I was about to say something to them when I saw the hole on the corner of the bedroom’s ceiling and the wooden escalator right under it. Of course.

The relieve my ears felt when I reached the roof was glorious, I took a few second to enjoy the feeling when I felt a hand on my shoulders, grabbing harder the whisky bottle ready to snap at whatever drunk boy who was trying to annoy my little moment of peace I turned around but I was met with Blondie Number Two, or just Ben.

“Easy, Cassie.” He laughed grabbing the bottle from my hand and lending it to my brother who was right behind him with a knowing smirk, I sent him a death glare.

“Hi, Cass, having fun?” He said slurring his words, oh my God, obviously Jonas Peters was a lightweight and now I had just brought him a big ass bottle of whisky for him to keep getting drunk.

I looked to him and then to Ben who stood way too close for my liking, I was able to smell his perfume. My mind travelling back to Daisy’s room when I was pressed against a wall, his hands roaming trough my whole body while I left love bites all over his neck, getting drunk on his scent.

Stop it. Answer the question.

“Absolutely not.” Jonas pretended to cry and then blew a kiss towards me as he left to join his others friends, they were just as drunk as him, or even worst. Ben cleared his throat making me look his way taking in his appearance, black shirt, black jeans, black shoes, so good looking. Maybe that’s what I liked him so much, it seemed his closet was also full of black clothes.

He was effortlessly beautiful.

“Well, thank you. “He said, a smug expression plastered on his face just as the color drained from mine. WHY?

I sighed, putting on my best annoyed look trying desperately to make it seem I didn’t care at all. Liar. “Don’t flatter yourself, I did it on purpose.” He nodded, the little smirk still lingering on his face as he stepped closer to me, hooking his arm around my shoulder.

“Yeah, sure, Birdie.” I groaned at the nickname and Ben threw his head back laughing at my annoyance.

“Don’t call me that, Ben. I don’t go around calling you Blondie Number Two.” I tried to let loose from his arms but he just held my tighter, starting to walk and dragging me along with him to sit closer to the edge against a wall, the big tree in front of the house blocking the street lights making it hard to see clearly; once we both were sitting I was finally able to get off of his embrace, looking down trying to ignore the fact that Ben was so close to me, and we were alone in the –almost- dark.

“But I always call you like that, you should be used to it by now… Birdie” He said right after getting comfortable on the floor. I huffed. No. I would never get used to it because I felt embarrassed and angry, angry at myself (as always, of course) for being so obsessed with him since forever.

I saw him light a cigarette from the corner of my eye, before turning back his attention to me, blowing out the smoke, “it fits you, you’re so… free, I don’t know, so you,” I looked at him attentively, lost in the way he chewed on his bottom lip while he tried to find the words, “I mean…, ugh, you know what, nothing. It just fits you because you’re beautiful and birds are also beautiful and interesting and also fucking smart”

I really didn’t know how I managed to not throw myself to him right there. To everyone, Ben Jones was this incredibly confident good looking college boy every girl wanted but to me he was just Blondie Number Two: Ben Jones, the boy whom just had compared me to birds because I, apparently, am: pretty, interesting and intelligent and now just stared at his cigarette nervously waiting for my response.

He was trying to be romantic, cute or whatever about the nickname but we both knew really well why he called me that.

“You’re and idiot, Ben.” I punched his arm lightly, “you could’ve jus explained it that way ten years ago when you started calling me that. Seven-year-old Cassie would’ve have been happy with it.”

He shrugged, “I figured you hated me.”

“I threw myself from a homemade zip line to impress you, I surely did not hate you.” Ben choked on the cigarette smoke looking at me with a funny expression, “I just never talked to you because Jonas wouldn’t let me, it wasn’t cool if his little sister tried to be friends with his friends.”

“The whole zip line thing was just to impress me?” I nodded, “well fuck, Cass, I appreciate it, you almost broke a bone back then.”

“Good to know you do now, finally.”

He finished the cigarette, throwing the filter somewhere and got closer grabbing my legs and placing them on top of his, I felt drowned to sit completely on his lap but held back that need while looking intently into his eyes trying to figure what he wanted, his left hand travelled to my lower back as he stared at my lips, my breathing slowly becoming erratic I just wanted him to do something.

“W-what are you doing, Benjamin?” He smirked, his hand resting on my back pushing me up so now I was fully sitting on his lap, his right hand caressing my thigh making me look up and down, from where his hands were drawing circles on my leg and then back to his plumped lips.

“I’m just trying to show you some gratitude after all these years of you trying so hard to get my attention, Birdie” He said, his voice coming out really low making my insides tingle and my cheeks burn, thank God for all this darkness surrounding us.

“Can I kiss you?” I felt so desperate, our lips gracing as his hands kept caressing my thigh not letting me focus on his question completely.

“Why are you even asking?”

“Just being a gentleman.” He said gripping my waist harder, a whimper coming out of me provoking a smug smirk to creep on his face.

“Oh, shut up.”

I grabbed his face finally kissing him, smirking against his lips when Ben let out a throaty moan breaking the kiss for a few seconds but kissing me back hungrily as I fully straddled him, his hands going automatically to my hips gripping harder when I bit on his bottom lip, licking it with my tongue. Ben captured my lips with his again, I was so high lost in the moment as our lips moved in complete sync I wanted to stay like this forever. He pecked my lips before resting his head on the wall behind him while both of us tried to control our breathing.

“I fucking want you, Birdie.” He said getting closer to my face to peck my lips one more time, “but we are not doing this here, not with your brother and our drunk as hell friends just a few meters away.”

I groaned remembering the fact that I was in a roof and also in the middle of a party and as much I was wanted him, he was right.

“We can go to my house, my parents are gone for the weekend and they took Layla with them,” Ben’s eyes shot open, his right hand brushing the locks of hair falling on my face as he smiled satisfied, “besides Jonas is staying at Will’s today.”

“Then let’s fucking go.”

He grabbed my waist and got up with me still on top of him, I laughed against his shoulder as he settled me back on the floor and took my hand to guide us out of the roof. He walked towards the group of boys, two of them were already passed out on the floor while Jonas and Will vibed to Pursuit of Happiness, the bottle of whisky was empty.

“You two. We are leaving, don’t drive, walk or just take a cab.” Ben said, his voice firm as the two other boys glanced at each other and then started laughing.

“Yes, father!” Will saluted and I couldn’t help let out a laugh. Ben gripped my hand tighter and I looked at him, he was trying to suppress a laugh too.

“I’m serious, Will. Be safe.” Will just nodded as he laid on his back again.

“And I’m serious, Benjamin Jones.” Jonas said stepping into the conversation. If he was slurring words earlier now he was just a mess, I rolled my eyes at the drunk ass of a brother I had, “Don’t make me an uncle,” my mouth opened to say something but the words weren’t coming out, “at least not on my bed or on the couch, if you please, now leave, my children.” And that’s all he said before passing out on top of Will legs. Ben looked at my horrified and I just stood there.

“Does he know?” I asked right after he took my hand to lead us toward the hole on the floor.

“I mean it’s not like were not pretty obvious. You keep looking at me completely stunned every time.”

I scoffed. “Like you don’t do the same.”

“Never said I didn’t.” He winked at me and then started to go down the wooden stair.

Once we closed the green door after another round of cursing from the people inside the room, Ben asked me to wait for him as he went to the bathroom and just then, during my time alone I realized I left and never told Syd or Lucas, and I had been gone for -maybe- longer than thirty minutes and then so suddenly the name Candace came back to my mind; turning towards Ben who was coming out of the bathroom fixing his hair, I got to him and he looked down at me confused but smiling.

“What?”

“Are you and Candace a thing and I’m just being that girl?” I was fuming, not really because I was being that girl but because of the fact that I hated the thought of him with someone else.

Is not like he wasn’t aloud, we’re nothing.

Ouch.

Ben rolled his eyes looking, to my surprise, annoyed. “That fucking girl. I was just being nice to her for once and now she goes around spreading bullshit. NO, Birdie, there’s nothing happening with Candace. That’s why we were on the roof, I was avoiding her, she’s a pain in the ass. In my ass.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.” He said closing the distance between us and kissing me softly, this time was way different than before, and I was loving every second of it, “why can’t you see you’re the one I want, Birdie?” he said against my lips and I felt my legs trembling at his honesty.

“We should go.”

Why didn’t I say something back? Why didn’t I say I wanted him too? Because I did, I knew that. I was stupid. Well no, actually. I was afraid and I knew it deep down, back then, I just didn’t want to come to terms with it. I was afraid of getting too attached to him that when we had to take different paths it was going to hurt so much. That’s why I never said nothing.

After some promises from Syd and Lucas to find my brother and Will and take a cab the four of them together we left the house holding hands, my house was maybe ten blocks away, a little less maybe so we decided to walk, enjoying each other’s presence, none of us saying nothing. I felt Ben’s gaze from time to time but I was too submerged on my own thoughts, drowning in them and hating to be feeling that way when I should’ve been enjoying our little moment.

Both of us knew it probably was the last time we’d see each other but none of us said anything, or I didn’t say anything, Ben had made it clear a few minutes ago. And I wanted him, but I also didn’t want to hold him back and that’s exactly why what I really think and felt was never said.

And after ten years it still haunted me.

Now the same horrible feeling growing on my chest, I was feeling as nauseous as I felt back then when I said goodbye to him knowing I was escaping from what I really wanted out of fear, because I was a coward but I was also seventeen and experiencing a feeling so hard it numbed my thoughts.

Now I stood in the middle of the room, the glass of wine long forgotten on my hands as Sydney’s hand gripped on my arm sympathetically and I felt thankful because otherwise when I saw him entering the place, looking exactly the same just more mature; his cheeky behavior that made everybody love him still present, I felt so out of place, my knees shaking a little, or maybe it was just my imagination.

8 years after.

“Blondie Number Two has ARRIVED!” I heard Lucas yell in the distance.

And I just had to get out of here. Fast. The world was literally spinning around me as I looked at everyone greeting Ben with a hug, the ones who didn’t know him just stared at the scene smiling.

“Cass, we can leave, there’s no need for you to be doing this now. It’s fine.” Sydney whispered.

“No. I’m ok, this doesn’t affect me, not really.” I shrugged and she just stared at me not saying anything but her expression showed concern and tiredness towards this whole situation. “It’s just, it’s been so long and I’m just shocked. That’s all.”

Sydney opened her mouth to protest but closed it immediately looking behind me, right then, almost instantly, a very well known cologne filled my nose before I could ask her what was going on.

Oh crap.

And there he stood, in all his glory. Just as handsome, his confident aura captivating everyone around us, just like always. I extended my hand to him provoking Ben to just smile and roll his eyes taking my hand just to tug me into his arms, hugging me sweetly as my face was stamped against his chest, not reacting.

Do something. I mentally shouted at my self.

My hands travelled to his sides, finally embracing him. This felt nice, I thought. It felt familiar; way too familiar for two people who hadn’t seen each other for so long.

Ben moved his head, lowering it so now his mouth was right next to my ear, sending a shiver trought my whole body, the action being too intimate for the place we were in.

“Long time no see.” He whispered really low for me to hear it properly thanks to the music playing in the background, but still managing to knock the air out me when he got even closer and simply said: “I’ve missed you… Birdie.”

Now I really wanted to leave. Again.

#ben hardy #ben jones #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #bohrap #borhap imagine #borhap x reader #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader

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letsyesnomaybe · 4 years ago

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Never Gonna Wanna Let Me Go | Part 6

Zayn Malik is one of the highest paid escorts in London. He’s good at his job, he knows this. But it’s not his chosen field, it’s easy money so he can have a chance to pursue his chosen field without becoming homeless. His employer Caroline has many rules to keep him safe but Zayn only has one ‘Don’t Get Attached’. Of course, there was always going to be one, the guy who would come in to the picture and make Zayn’s easy job almost impossible.

Liam Payne. Twenty Six. Made his money by inheriting his father’s music business after he passed away. Quite well known so expect publicity. Wants a pretty face on his arm to cover the events he has to attend while in town on business. Make sure he knows if he wants extra he has to pay. You’ve got your usual expenses on your card, don’t go overboard like last time. I mean it, Malik! Your share for the weekend will go in your account on Monday when you’ve done your job.

Love you babes, stay safe, C x

Part 1, 2 ,3, 4 & 5 (also on ao3)

“I can’t, I’m sorry.”

Those were the last words Louis had breathed before he’d walked out of the hotel room and out of Zayn’s life. He was eighteen and heartbroken and he swore from that day, he’d never let another person break him the way Louis had.

“It’s worse than it was then,” Harry whispers to Niall, when he thinks he’s out of Zayn’s hearing. “He was heartbroken over Louis but this, it feels like it’s so much more.”

“He’s a smart lad,” Niall would always reply. “He knows what he’s doing.”

Harry would always sigh, as if it wasn’t the answer he wanted to pacify his worry over his best friend. He’d always come to Zayn afterwards, curl up next to where he was binge watching the walking dead or spread out on the floor of the art room, to watch him paint.

Zayn knows he’s trying to be a good friend but now he’s not working, there’s no escape. It’s twenty four seven Harry and as much as he loves the lad, it’s a little too much of him to handle.

It’s been four days since he left Liam at the cabin (not that he’s counting) and quit his job with Caroline. It takes Niall and Harry’s usual morning activity to push him out of the house.

He only goes twenty minutes down the road, to their local café and tucks himself at the back with his laptop, hoping to get some graphics done that he could sell to local business for a tiny bit of income.

But he’s barely there ten minutes when intrusive thoughts lead him down a different path than intended.

He’s a glutton for punishment, he thinks, as he googles Louis’ name and gets greeted with thousands of articles about him and Stella because they had recently announced they were expecting a baby boy.

Zayn slams to laptop shut when he sees a cosy photo of them in Paris where they’d travelled to the night of his championship win for a little R&R.

He decided to head back to the flat, hoping the hour he had been out of said flat would be enough time for his friends to get done with their activities.

The moment he steps foot back in his apartment, all he can think about is Louis, he can’t get those stupid blue eyes and curled smile out of his mind.

Which is probably why the moment he gets to his room, he absolutely rips it apart, trying to find one particular thing.

He finds it tucked in the very back of the draws he keeps his hoodies and he has to give it a hard tug from where it had managed to jam itself in the corners of the drawer.

When he finally gets the little brown envelope out from inside the drawer, a polaroid falls out on to the floor. When he picks it up he’s greeted by the image of two grinning boys. Two young lads who don’t know the world yet and had no idea of the pain they were about to cause one another.

The only other thing in the envelope is a key to an apartment that Zayn had never visited.

‘I want you to have a place where you’re safe,’ Louis had said. ‘It’s yours, for whenever you’re ready.’

“Zayn?!” Harry calls out suddenly.

Zayn shoves the key and polaroid back in the envelope and tucks them it back where it was.

“Z?!” Harry calls again, only this time closer.

“I’m here.” Zayn calls back.

Harry’s head pops around Zayn’s bedroom door and he gives him curious eyes.

“What?” Zayn asks sharply, which he instantly regrets when Harry’s lips twitch in a way they only do when he’s upset.

“Liam’s here,” Harry tells him softly. “I said he was only allowed to see you, if you wanted him to. If not, then me and Ni will throw him out.”

“I’d quite like to see you try and throw him out.” Zayn teases.

“I’m stronger than you think, Malik.” Harry retorts and a big smile graces his lips, the earlier hurt easily forgotten. “So, shall I send him down?”

Zayn nods his head but before Harry can leave, he calls after him.

“Yes, darling?” Harry asks, the grin still gracing his lips.

“Don’t stick around to listen, okay?” Zayn pleads. “It’s probably not going to be nice but I’m good, yeah?”

Harry looks curious but nods his agreement before continuing out of the room.

Zayn doesn’t know what to do with himself and he’s spends so much time fretting over if he should sit or stand that he’s still stood dumbly in the middle of the room when Liam appears in it.

“I thought you wouldn’t see me.” Liam admits as greeting.

Zayn shrugs and tucks his shaking his hands in to his pockets because if he’s honest, he thought he wouldn’t see Liam again, not in person anyway.

“I’ll get straight to the point then.” Liam decides and rustles around in the back pocket of his jeans for a few seconds.

Zayn raises his eyebrows because his curiosity is slightly peaked and if it is something painful, at least he’ll be amused when he has to call Harry back for him and Niall to attempt to throw Liam out.

“I was packing my things and this fell out of my bag,” Liam explains and holds out the drawing Zayn had done in the hotel room. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

Zayn stares down at the crumpled paper that contains a real life drawing of a heart that he’d converted in to a home.

“I thought it was about Penny,” Liam admits. “I thought it was your way of saying that the people we loose will always have a home in our hearts. But that’s not the meaning behind it, is it?”

Zayn looks to him and then back to the drawing.

“Is it?” Liam asks a little more desperate.

“It’s whatever you want it to be.” Zayn tells him and tries to hand the drawing back.

Liam snatches it from his hand. “That’s bullshit.”

“I can’t tell you what the drawing means to you, Liam.” Zayn says with a shrug.

“I don’t care what it means to me,” Liam argues. “I want to know what it means to you. Why did you draw it?”

“I draw a lot of things that have no meaning.” Zayn replies and folds his arms.

Harry snorts loudly from the other room.

“I told you to fuck off, Styles.” Zayn shouts at him.

There’s a scramble and then a loud crash before the door to Zayn’s room opens and Niall’s head pops in.

“We’re heading out,” He informs Zayn. “If you need us then give us a ring, yeah?”

Zayn drags his fingers through his hair and nods his head.

“If Liam was going to kill him I’m sure us being here wouldn’t stop him.” Niall shouts at Harry as he must lead him out of the flat.

Liam steps towards Zayn as the sound of the front door closing echoes through the flat.

“Did you draw this because you’re trying to tell me you’re letting me in to the only place that’s yours to protect?” He asks. “The last place you’re allowed to call the shots on who comes and goes.”

Zayn stares at the crumpled paper in Liam’s hand. “It’s just a drawing.”

“I know Louis was let in and he didn’t treat it well but we’re not the same people, Zayn.” Liam tries.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Zayn scoffs.

“What don’t I get?” Liam pleads.

“He trashed the place but you still broke the windows,” Zayn replies and moves away from Liam’s touch. “You both lost your right to the key, the way you went about it doesn’t matter.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Liam tells.

‘I’m not trying to hurt you,’ Louis echoes in his head. ‘I love you, Malik, maybe not in the same way but I still want to take care of you--’

“Shut up!” Zee cries.

Liam hushes him like he’s a small child throwing a tantrum. “It’s okay, Z, you’re okay.”

The nickname cuts Zayn deep and he takes a step back, to put space between him and Liam.

“What did Louis tell you?” He asks, thanking the heavens above that his voice holds out and doesn’t crack.

“He told he that he was a dickhead who really hurt you,” Liam explains. “He shouldn’t have done what he did, you didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“Did he tell you that I was barely an adult when we met,” Zee starts because the anger he’s been harbouring for the past six years is finally bubbling over. “I was a kid and his manager used to pay me to fuck him because he was terrified Louis would be one of the braves ones and would come out and then he wouldn’t see as well.”

“That’s disgusting.” Liam decides.

“Right?” Zee agrees and then laughs but it’s not joyful, it’s pained. “We used to talk about it, after the fucking was done. We’d talk for hours about how much of a dickhead his manager was and how homophobic his chosen career path was.”

Liam looks sad like it was something he’d already been told but Zayn’s too far gone, he’s finally letting him relive the memories he’d buried deep for so many ears.

“Falling in love with him was so easy,” Zayn decides. “Christ, he only had to suck my dick good once and make me laugh a few times and I was gone.”

‘I’m not gay,’ Louis’ voice echoes in his head. ‘It was like shagging a mate, there weren’t any feelings involved, I’m sorry’.

Zayn should have known really, they never really kissed and when the sex was done they wouldn’t touch. They would share a blunt and talk about fixing the world but the conversation never really went deeper than that, they never really got to know each other past the obvious.

He knows now, what it’s like to shag a bi guy who leans more in favour of girls. Louis could get hard for a guy, he can find men attractive but for some reason when it comes to anything more than physical, his brain won’t let him get passed it.

He remembers being so cruel when Louis had finally ended it, he’d told him he was as bad as the people who had forced them together in the first place and the hurt expression Louis had given him following that outburst still haunts him to this day.

But he knows now, Louis was a kid himself, he was trying to figure out himself too. It was sad that he had to use Zayn to do it but Zayn doesn’t resent him, not for that anyway.

“Zayn?” Liam asks softly, after a silence had fallen over them for quite a long time.

“I need you to leave,” Zayn decides because he’s about to break apart all over again and he doesn’t want Liam here for that. “Can you leave, please?”

“That’s what you want?” Liam checks.

Zayn nods his head but can’t lift it to meet the younger lad’s eyes.

“Alright,” Liam agrees “I’ve got a plane to catch anyway.”

“You’re going to LA?” Zayn asks, finally looking up.

Liam nods, looking hopeful. “The offer is still there for you to come with me?”

“What as this time?” Zayn replies spitefully. “Can’t be much left on the roaster, right?”

Liam nods, taking the hit because he must know he deserves it. “Well, it’s there if you want it, I’m sure Caroline has Amara’s number, she can book you a flight, if you change your mind.”

“I don’t work for Caroline anymore,” Zayn informs him, though he’s not sure why he has a need for Liam to know that information. “But I won’t be needing Amara’s number so I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t work for Caroline anymore?” Liam asks shocked.

Zayn shrugs.

“Why?” Liam pushes.

Zayn shrugs again and drops his gaze to Liam’s stupid air max trainers, they’re the most recently released ones and it’s just a reminder of how much money is in this guy’s bank account.

“Why, Z?” Liam pleads this time.

“Because I’m done,” Zayn answers finally and looks back up to meet Liam’s eyes. “It’s my turn to call the shots over my body and life.”

Liam steps forward tentatively. “Come to LA with me?”

“You can’t buy me anymore, Liam.” Zayn reminds him.

“I don’t want to,” Liam promises. “I want you come willingly, I want you to come because you want to, I want you to come because...”

“What?” Zayn demands when the sentence trails off.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Liam concludes. “You’re so fucking much, Zayn. You’re too much and I probably don’t deserve you but if you were willing to give me a shot I’d really hope you could fall in love with me too.”

“It’s been one week.” Zayn says a little breathless because he wasn’t expecting love.

“My sister always said I went in to things heart first with my head taking a long time to follow,” Liam admits and reaches up to rub at the back of his neck. “She said it what made me such a good song writer but it has led to a lot of heartbreak in my lifetime, I’ll admit.”

Zayn lets that information sink in to his brain and realise he’d spent a lot of their time together, putting a lot of his past traumas on to this boy, all because of who had made their interaction happen. He’d never thought there would be a chance that while he was so focused on his own haunting memories, the beautiful boy he’d been spending his time with might have been returning his feelings.

“It was her on the phone.” Liam tells him.

“What?” Zayn asks confused.

“It was Roo, my sister, she was who I was talking to when you overheard the conversation.” Liam explains. “She worries a lot, if I told her I was with you at the cabin, I would have got a lecture.”

“Because you were falling in love with a prostitute?” Zayn asks because hearing that conversation had still hurt him.

“I rang her on my way back from Scotland,” Liam continues with a sad smile. “She called me an idiot, said I had my very own pretty woman moment and I’d been the idiot who had let it go.”

“If you’d tried to climb up out fire escape you would have probably died.” Zayn admits. “It’s not safe, at all.”

Liam looks very confused by that response.

“You really need to watch the damn film if you’re going to reference it, Liam.” Zayn says frustrated.

“We could watch it on the plane to LA?” Liam suggests. “I have a meeting with Simmons but I was thinking there might be a few studios we could check out.”

“I don’t--”

“Want my money,” Liam finishes for him. “I know, I thought about that--the hour long flight back from Scotland was a long one, okay? I had a lot of time to plan and think.”

Zayn nods for him to explain his idea.

“I’ll buy a studio,” Liam starts and when he’s sure Zayn isn’t going to interrupt. “Then when your art starts making money, you can pay me rent for that studio.”

“It’ll be at a discounted price?” Zayn guesses.

“I could think of another form of payment.” Liam jokes, it’s a bad one considering how they met.

Zayn frowns.

“It was a joke,” Liam assures him. “It’ll of course be at a discounted price but I don’t even know if it’ll have to be, I’ve seen your art, Z. The kids in LA, they’re going to lap that shit up, lots of rich trust fund kids have nothing better to do than pretend they understand your art.”

Zayn snorts. “Great, I’ll be pouring my heart and sole in to pieces for them to be hung up in rooms of rich college kids so they can stare at them to stop themselves coming to quick.”

“If you don’t like that idea,” Liam says quickly. “We have a design team at the label, they work with artists for like album covers and posters and shit. They could really do with an artist like you, someone to think outside the box.”

“You really have thought this over.” Zayn observes.

Liam nods his head several times. “The minute you left the cabin, I couldn’t think of anything but how to get you back.”

“You love me?” Zayn checks again.

Liam nods, the smile Zayn adores taking over his face completely. “I love you.”

“Fuck,” Zayn replies and finally closes the gap between them. “I think I love you too.”

“You do?” Liam asks, worrying his lip between his teeth.

Zayn reaches his hand up to tug it out. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Liam replies.

Zayn’s the one who leans in and seals it with a kiss but Liam’s the one who slips a hand around his back to tug their bodies completely together, not an inch of them not touching.

They stand like that for the longest time until Harry and Niall’s overpowering personas fill the apartment again.

Zayn breaks the LA news to Harry softly but it’s Liam who makes the news easier for his best friend by promising to fly them both out whenever they want for however long they want.

Harry still looks a bit reluctant but it’s one simple gesture that has an easy smile pulling at his lips and it’s Liam kissing Zayn on the cheek before he gets up to help Niall make a round of teas. The moment a happy smile pulls at Zayn’s lips, it mirrors on his best friends and like that he knows he’s got his blessing.

#there's heavy zouis featured to round this fic up #sorry my otps have always been fucked #but mushy ziam in the very end to make up for it #ziam #ziam fic #writing #ngwlmg #zayn malik #liam payne #also currently writing an epilogue because I can never write fics like this without one #sorry if this is just filling peoples dashes and no one cares #but I need it done

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something-tofightfor · 5 years ago

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Thanks to You

Pairing: Sam Adams x Reader

Word Count: 3238

Rating: PG-13? There’s some suggestion.

Author’s Note: Takes place in the Rebel in Love universe ... what happens when Mr. and Mrs. Dumpster Fire are tasked with hosting Thanksgiving? Some familiar faces show up, there’s a new addition to your family... and you eat a ton of food.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you in the United States. I know that I’m a few hours early, but since there’s a lot going on tomorrow, I figured I’d post it early. After all... is there anything better then Thanksgiving with an actual Founding Father?

General:

@the-blind-assassin-12 @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @obscurilicious @sweetybuzz25 @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @gollyderek @poindexted @ificouldhelpyouforget @elanor-of-imladris @thesandbeneathmytoes @luminex3 @geeksareunique @weallhaveadestiny @mfackenthal @thesumofmychoices @yannii04 @beautiful-thinking @drinix @blah-blah-fuckit-shit @dreams-with-thoughts @wangmangagavroche @traeumerinwitzhelden @agentlingerie

Sam Adams:

@damalseer @chibiyanai

Uncategorized:

@banditthewriter @padfootagain @madamrogersstorytelling @ethereal-heavcns @editboutique @marauderskeeper @ilkaeliseb @delicatelilyflower @king4thesirens @ymariejp @mr-robot-x @rageshots @introvertedlibrary @writing-for-a-chance @yesixoxo @ilikebeachessushiandsmallanimals @likeorions @swiftyhowlz @dylanobrusso @malik-payne @lynne1993 @ladyblablabla @dreamwritesimagines @audreychaz @tc-elliot @kind-wolf @honeyydippaa @binbonsadoration @ms-delos @jeanettexkillian @avengerswhore @elioelioeli0 @projectcampbell @giggleberts @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

“What would you like me to do?” Sam stood in the doorway, arms hanging down at his sides. “I feel like I’m not -” You set your knife down, closing your eyes and counting to five before you responded. “Just tell me what -”

“Samuel.” You said his name firmly, turning to face your husband. “You need to let me be.” The look that crossed his face was -for a moment - one of hurt, but then he recovered, setting his jaw. I didn’t mean…

“Fine I’ll take the dogs and -” Shaking your head, you stepped toward him, wiping one hand on your apron.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Stopping in front of Sam, you reached up to run a thumb over his stubbled cheek, smiling. “You’re of no use to me in the kitchen, Mr. Adams.” He was still scowling, but you saw one corner of his mouth twitch. “I didn’t marry you for your culinary skills.” you cocked your head to the side, wetting your lips. “I would like you to go and visit John, and perhaps Paul, too.” You sighed. “We need benches and a few tables, Sam.” He opened his mouth in surprise, the facade of irritation gone. “We’re meant to host dinner tomorrow, and we have nowhere for people to sit, perhaps they can help you with that.” Sam looked at you but didn’t say a word, his brown eyes giving nothing away. “What?”

“How is it,” he asked, ducking his head down to kiss you gently. “How is it that in only a little over a year, we’ve gone from being newlyweds to hosting such an event? Me? Samuel Adams?” You pressed your lips together, waiting. “Don’t people spend the day with their -”

“They all want to spend it with you, Sam.” Your hand again rose, this time finding the ends of his hair, the shortest pieces hanging loose around his cheeks. “You’ve made quite a name for yourself, haven’t you?” You sighed, allowing yourself to smile and leaning in to press your chest against Sams. “And your reputation? No one remembers the rebel, or the smuggler. No one thinks of you as -” He cut you off with another kiss, this one more thorough than the first and you melted into him, feeling Sam’s free arm wrap around your waist and hold you close.

“I only want to spend it with you.” He wrinkled his nose, kissing you again briefly. “But having our friends here will be nice, too.” Sam sighed, clearing his throat. “What are we doing with the -”

“Oh you mean my dog and your…” He laughed, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, the sound echoing throughout the kitchen. “Your-”

“Tory isn’t just my dog.” Sam glanced out the window, his eyes following the movement of the two large animals as they chased each other through the early afternoon sunlight. “We bought her as a companion for Rogue, and -”

“And she listens to no one but you, Samuel Adams, and acts like I don’t exist.” You swatted at him playfully, shaking your head as you turned back to the counter. “I know where her loyalties lie, and it’s certainly not with me or her brother.” He laughed as he stepped up behind you, his arms going around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“What are you making?” You’d picked up the knife again, using it to cut through the apples on the counter. “Apple… pie?” You shook your head once, picking up a slice of the tart green apple and lifting it to his lips without hesitation, turning your head to watch as he bit down on it before pulling your hand back and putting the remaining piece into your own mouth.

“No. Abigail is bringing the pies. I’m making cobbler.” You turned, kissing his lips and tasting your husband along with the fruit. “Because I know you like it better. Now go.” You elbowed him, lowering your head and returning to your task. “We need tables and benches for fiften.” Sam kissed your cheek quickly and then stepped back, whistling as he walked out the door and through the yard toward the barn.

---

Later that evening, you finished wiping the kitchen surfaces down, taking stock of all you’d completed. The crumble was baked and wrapped, you’d cubed the bread that you’d baked earlier in the week for stuffing, and the herbs were chopped and mixed in. The root vegetables were washed and ready to be peeled and cooked, and the turkey was soaking in brine, waiting to be stuffed and roasted. Others in that would be in attendance had been tasked with bringing additional dishes - Abigail was making the pies, your mother was baking cornbread and bringing the chestnuts and greens, Paul would be bringing Sam’s favorite; a large haunch of venison that would be roasted slowly over an outdoor fire from the moment the man arrived in the morning until it was time to eat… and the other attendees were bringing things too - cranberries and carrots, fresh butter, wine, beans, coffee … there would be plenty of food, you’d been assured, and though you’d chosen to prepare the (arguably) most important parts of the meal, you weren’t feeling overwhelmed.

Sam had come back with Paul in the early afternoon, a cart loaded down with wooden planks behind the men, and for hours, they’d locked themselves into the barn, the sound of laughter and hammers ringing across the yard and to your ears. Rogue and Tory had pawed at the door for their dinner, but both dogs had quickly finished eating and then begged to be let back outside to join the men. For Tory, it wasn’t a shock, but Rogue’s interest was a surprise.

You’d taken Sam and Paul a meal just before dark, bread and cheese and some salted meat, expecting them to thank you and then immediately turn back to the task at hand, but Sam had extended his hand to you even after taking the plate you held out to him - and you weren’t about to start denying him anything. You sat next to your husband on one of the newly constructed benches, taking with him and Paul as they ate, and Paul informed you that his wife Rachel would be bringing sweet potatoes and apples baked with cinnamon and sugar, and that she would be coming over with him early in the morning. “We’re gonna leave the tables and benches in the barn, just in case it rains.” Paul chewed quickly, gesturing to the half finished table behind you. “Gonna head home soon, get back to her, and then we’ll be back in plenty of time tomorrow.”

You glanced down, seeing that Tory was laying at Sam’s feet with her snout on one of his boots and rolled your eyes before looking back up at Paul. “Of course, go home. I’m sure she’s been expecting you.” Paul put his plate down, grinning and then stood, pointing to the open barn doors. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Paul. Thank you for your help.” Paul reached the door, pausing and then meeting Sam’s eyes. You looked between the two men, confused, but Paul chuckled, muttering. “I’ll bring it” under his breath before exiting the building. What was that about? When the man was gone, leaving you alone with Sam and the dogs, you turned to your husband, raising an eyebrow. “If it had only been you out here, Sam, I would have found a reason to come and watch you with that hammer.” He smirked at you, leaning closer to press his forehead against yours. “Guess I’ll have to find something else for you to build, hmm?” He nodded before straightening up and stretching, his long arms rising straight up and above his head before he rolled his neck.

“Let’s go to bed?” Shooting to your feet, you picked up Paul’s plate and then your husband’s, clicking your tongue at the dogs to get their attention. From the far corner of the barn, Rogue rose, trotting over to where you stood, but Tory stayed on the ground, her dark brown eyes - so much like Sam’s - locked on his face. You sighed but he laughed, nudging her with his boot. “C’mon, girl. Bedtime.” She stood, waiting for his next command, but didn’t move until Sam did, his free hand taking yours, fingers threading through to grip your hand tightly as he led you back to the house, a lantern in the kitchen window shining brightly. Halfway across the yard, Sam leaned over, lips next to your ear. “I’m not quite done usin’ my hands tonight.”

---

Through no fault of your own, dinner the next day was delayed by nearly an hour as the turkey took longer than expected to roast, and some of the other dishes needed to be reheated before they could be served, too. While the men sat outside - it was cool but sunny, you and the other women busied yourselves in the kitchen, putting final touches on all of the food and ensuring that your cutlery, plates and cups were clean and presentable, and that there were enough linens available. While it wasn’t the first Thanksgiving after declaring Independence, it was the first where all of your friends and family could freely gather; Sam and John weren’t off in Philadelphia, Paul wasn’t riding back and forth between cities and encampments and Sam’s other friends - and yours - were free to do as they pleased. It was safe to gather, because the British were beginning to leave in droves, and there was much to celebrate.

As you and the other women carried the food out into the barn after making sure that the dogs were tied on the other side of the yard, each one chewing on a large piece of buck’s antler (courtesy of John and Abigail), the men settled into their seats, content to let you do what you needed to do. Once the dishes were placed atop the table and everyone was seated, Sam cleared his throat, looking to your father with a nervous smile on his face. “Sir?” Your father nodded, waiting. “Would you mind leading us in the prayer? Your daughter’s told me -”

“Of course, Sam.” Smiling broadly, your father reached for your hand on one side and then your mother’s on the other, the entire table taking hands wordlessly. You felt Sam’s thumb rubbing over your knuckles slowly as your father began to speak, reciting the same blessing you’d nearly memorized as you grew up, but as he reached the end, he took a deep breath. “And though we’re eternally grateful to you, Lord, for watching over us and keeping us safe, we’re also thankful for the time that we spent with those of us that are no longer among the living.” Sam’s grip tightened on your hand and you glanced over at him, noticing that he was still looking down, but was watching your father through his lashes, lips parted. “A great many have fought and died to honor this new country and her people, and among them are a few men that should be here right now.”

Sam sucked in a breath and you squeezed his hand tightly, your father going on to name Dr. Warren and Kelly first, then Christopher, followed by a few more explicitly, the other guests at the table murmuring quietly in agreement. Though you knew it was improper, you couldn’t help pulling your joined hands toward you, lips pressing against the tips of Sam’s fingers for a moment. I miss them too, Sam. Ending the blessing, your father raised his head - as did everyone else at the table - and after a few moments of silence where your husband’s eyes were locked on your father’s in silent thanks, your mother sighed and then smiled brightly. “Let’s eat.”

That was all it took, and as everyone dropped hands and began serving themselves, you turned on the bench to look at Sam, sitting at the head of the table, a pensive expression on his face. “You alright, Mr. Adams?” He paused before he answered but when he did, he sounded relieved, speaking in a low but steady voice.

“I am.” He reached up to rub at his face. “I don’t… think of them as memories, you know? But your father was right, they should be here and they aren’t. And we are, and…” His shoulders slumped. “They would have loved to see this, to -”

“They would have, Sam.” You squeezed his hand again. “But now we live for them, and we celebrate for them, and we honor them… thanks to you.” You leaned in, speaking so that only Sam could hear. “Everything you do for these United States is for them as much as it is for all of us.” You stared into Sam’s eyes and watched as the troubled expression changed to one of resolve - one that you’d seen countless times, one that you loved. It’ll be alright, Samuel Adams. He nodded at you, pressing his lips together. “But right now? If you don’t load up that plate and tell me that my turkey is the most delicious thing you’ve ever tasted… we’re going to have -”

Sam’s laugh rang out through the barn as he pulled his hand from yours and reached for the basket filled with bread, grinning. That’s what I thought.

---

A few hours later, most of your guests had left, riding toward their homes after thanking you and Sam for hosting, taking covered dishes of the leftovers (of which there weren’t many; your guests had eaten their fill and then some) and bidding you goodnight. John, Abigail, Paul and Rachel were the only ones still seated in the barn with you, the large table pulled apart into sections and a smaller one in front of you with a deck of cards spread out atop it. Sam excused himself, gripping your shoulder for a moment before he turned and walked away, and though you wondered where he was off too, Abigail distracted you with a story about shopping in Boston earlier in the week.

After a few minutes, Sam came back into the barn and you heard a clinking noise. What does he have? “I’ve been working on something.” Sam spoke as he approached the table, setting a jug down with a thunk, followed by six pewter mugs. “Well, we’ve been working on it.” Paul laughed again and Rachel tilted her head to look at her husband and then at you and Abigail. What? “It’s nothing right now, not really, but this is the first … and I wanted to…” Sam uncorked the jug before picking it up by the handle, tilting it over the first mug. “We’re brewing at the Green Dragon right now, but…” Beer? He’s brewing… Sam filled the mugs in turn and then slid them across the table one by one. “Tell me if it’s terrible, I’ve never done this before, but we made a recipe…”

“Don’t tell me if it’s terrible.” Paul spoke up, holding the mug in the air. “Lie to me.” All of you laughed, but before you took a drink, you looked at Sam. Wait.

“Sam?” He paused with the mug halfway to his lips. “Can we make a toast?” He swallowed and you looked away, meeting the eyes of the others. “It’s no secret that this… getting here has been a struggle… but we’re here now. And we need to honor the sacrifice that our friends - our family members - have made.” You took a breath, looking back at Sam. “I cannot think of a better way to do that than to raise a mug - on Thanksgiving - of the very first batch of a beer that you, Samuel Adams, my husband brewed in remembrance.” The others were quiet and then Paul cleared his throat, lifting his mug.

“To Kelly.” John nodded, lifting his own drink.

“To Christopher.” Rachel and Abigail joined the men, holding the metal in the air.

“To Joseph.” Sam’s mug met the others in the middle, yours clinking against it quietly.

“To all of you - all of us.” You nodded, meeting the eyes of each of your friends in turn. “We’ve sacrificed so much, but we’ve…” You looked at Sam, the smile on your face genuine. “We’ve gained a great deal more at the same time.”

“Cheers!” Sam nodded, and the six of you knocked the rims of your mugs against each other before raising them to your lips. As you took a long swallow of your husband’s beer, your eyes widened. It’s strong. The seriousness of the prior conversation all but forgotten as you congratulated Sam and Paul on their endeavor, your husband’s cheeks growing red in embarrassment, the six of you returned to your card game. Time passed and you finished the jug of ale, laughing and joking together until Abigail pulled John to his feet, suggesting that they go home. Paul and Rachel were soon to follow, and though he’d had just as much as anyone else, Paul was the one who guided his wife from the barn and to their wagon, holding her elbow tightly to help her balance, though she giggled the entire way across the lawn.

Once it was just the two of you, Sam caught your wrist as you went to exit the barn, the mugs and empty jug still on the table. “Sam?”

“Thank you for today.” His words slow and deliberate, Sam stepped toward you, hand sliding up your arm. “It means something different than it did just a few years ago.” You nodded, watching as Sam eyed you. Neither of you were drunk, but the alcohol had you feeling warm despite the cool temperature, and the feeling of Sam’s fingers on your arm kept you grounded. “Dance with me?” You closed your eyes, ducking your head and without thinking, you and Sam adjusted your positions, one of his hands moving to your waist and the other palm pressing flat against your back as your arms wound around his neck. “I never thought I’d have so much to be grateful for.” He spun you slowly, your feet moving over the scattered hay and sawdust on the floor. “You prove me wrong every day, Mrs. Adams.”

“As do you, Mr. Adams.” You used one hand to pull the leather strap from his hair and tucked it into your sleeve before using your fingers to comb through Sam’s long locks, aware of the tightening of his grip on you as your nails gently raked over his scalp. “You proved everyone wrong, Sam.” His hand moved up your back and slid against your neck, fingers curved around the base of your skull. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Sam murmured as he lowered his mouth to meet yours, lips pressing together in a kiss that made you feel warmth throughout your entire body as you stepped closer to your husband. “So much.” Me too, Sam. When you finally pulled apart, still swaying gently where you stood, you pulled one hand from Sam’s hair, trailing your hand down his chest and letting it rest over his heart.

“Sam?” He raised an eyebrow, the light of the lantern low but still allowing you to see the expression on his face - skirting the line between a smile and a smirk, eyes full of admiration. “I think it’s time you take your wife to bed.”

---

#sam adams #samuel adams #sam adams x reader #samuel adams x reader #sam adams x you #sam adams x you fic #sam adams x reader fic #sons of liberty #thanksgiving with a founding father #mr dumpster fire #happy thanksgiving #Ben Barnes character #ben barnes character imagine #samuel adams imagine #sam adams sons of liberty #sons of liberty fic #rebel in love #setting brushfires

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yes-i-just-did-that · 5 years ago

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please know I’m not calling any one person/group of people out, just throwing my thoughts kthx <3

I saw some people thinking stuff about how the reason Malik (or maybe one of the other Yousefs while comparing them? idrk) stopped practicing Islam was kinda flimsy and didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Which I was kind of confused about because it made perfect sense to me, but I just realized it’s because... I kinda am the same way? This will get long because I need to rant so I’ll add a cut if you don’t feel like reading it.

TLDR: I was pushed away from religion because of how the people convincing me to be religious taught stuff dealing with sexuality, and the reasons Malik had for leaving are valid.

Basically my parents’ families are both Catholic, though they are definitely less religious than the families shown in Skam, they did raise me and my siblings Catholic. We went to church occasionally we were an Easter and Christmas family yes and we all went to CCD (basically where we learned about religion).

To be fair, I hated it from the beginning, but mostly because I had to wake up early on the weekend and go sit in a classroom for an hour with kids my age I did not like. 7th/8th grade is when it went down hill. CCD those years were combined with all the 7th and 8th graders who were going to be confirmed through that church. At the same time, my friends (and me eventually) were starting to question our sexuality, quite a few starting to settle on labels. Of course up to this point CCD had never mentioned sex/sexuality since we weren’t even teens yet. But the person who was leading CCD my 7th grade spent a good two months of the time we had CCD talking solely about sex and sexuality, how sex is a sin, especially when it’s with someone of the same gender, basically all the stereotypical religious ideas around the topic. I was 13, not even starting to question my own sexuality, having friends who have figured out at least a temporary label- and here this dude was telling me that they’re all awful people for who they like.

That dude got fired though, because that was not what he was supposed to be teaching us. Not the “homosexuality isn’t a sin” part, but the “you spent too long on this and now the 8th graders have no idea what they’re signing up for by getting confirmed”.

8th grade, it switched up some more. A few more friends came out, some changed their labels, and some started dating to explore a little, to really see if the label they chose was right. My brother, who’s a year younger, got bumped up to this CCD group as well. I went in with a negative mind set, but my parents made a deal, that if I went through with confirmation they wouldn’t force me to go to church except for things like weddings and funerals (they wanted me to get confirmed in case I ever got married to someone who wanted to get married in a church, ofc this was ‘wait I may be not straight’ me who did not want to say anything about it so I had to go along). My brother quit a few months in and my parents let him, which I was pissed about because as just mentioned, they wouldn’t let me. It was uneventful and I blocked it mostly from memory, until they got to the sex/sexuality chapter. They were a little, very, very little, more tolerant about it, they had the “It’s fine they just can’t get married” mindset, versus the “They’re all going to hell”.

But what pushed me over is we had to do a ‘discussion’ about all of this. Basically I had to listen to a bunch of probably-straight cis white girls debate about LGBT people, AKA me and my friends, and I couldn’t do anything, at least without outing me or them.

And ofc my parents were like ‘well why do you hate it so much’ and I didn’t know how to explain. They’re for sure open minded, just a bit of non-purposeful ignorance and a whole lot of ‘straight until proven otherwise’.

#skam italia #if you read the whole thing kudos #we'll see who does #there is a lot of unneeded details but I didn't know how else to word it

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revengeisalwaysanoption · 5 years ago

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[Fic] All due respect here... (there's no respect due)

Let’s try one last time... I truly apologise if the cut doesn’t work on mobile, I am posting from my laptop.

Enough is enough, they're right. There’s only so much that can be forgiven, before one’s indulgence becomes a red flag. Loneliness is not an excuse, Martino.

“You need to put your foot down” they keep saying. “You need to draw a line and say: this is unacceptable. If you step over the line once you get a warning, but do it twice and we’re done.”

It's just that… you know… He feels so stupid, now? He has been so blind, so naïve and nearly let himself be played like a fiddle. Hurting those who really care about him, and for what? Approval?

The more he thinks about it, the worse it gets. The signals were all there, for fuck’s sake!

Lulling him into a sense of comradery, that he had been missing ever since his friends from high school had all chosen different paths… Yeah, that’s how it had all started. With him, trying so desperately to fill that void. It hadn’t been as difficult as had imagined to bond over incomprehensible lectures, disgusting coffee and eclectic lifestyles. Francesco had been the first to approach him, complimenting his Apparat-inspired T-shirt and asking where he bought it. It hadn’t seen anything quite like it on the Internet, or he would have remembered! Deciding it was best to weed out the homophobes straight away, Martino told him the truth: it was a gift from his boyfriend. Not quite his usual style, but since it made Nico happy to see him wear it…

“Oh man, you’re so whipped.” Francesco had commented, instead, laughing. “But hey, who am I to judge? I’m actually a bit jealous, you know. No one ever made me something that cool. Do you think I could commission him one?”

Marti did, but he had been wrong. Niccolò wasn’t interested in designing clothes for anyone else, and while he was flattered by Fra’s proposal he would have to turn it down. Not exactly a great start, but Martino didn’t think much of it. This wasn’t kindergarten and surely Francesco wouldn’t hold that refusal against Nico.

Marina had literally saved his life, when he crossed the street and didn’t look as he was in the middle of some lovely banter with Niccolò. In return for her heroic deed, he was bound to treat her to lunch. Or a coffee, at least. The way she delivered that ridiculous request, wiggling her head and biting her lips – like a mischievous child, amused by their own audacity – reminded him so much of a certain someone… that he found himself discussing the top 10 TV shows betrayals of the decade (no! they were never going to forgive D&D for what he had done to Daenerys!) over a cappuccino. She might have been side-eyeing him for checking his phone a little too much, but he didn’t really care.

And then came Lorenzo. Well, it was actually Martino who had reached out to him. Who found him sitting on the floor of a dingy bathroom, crying his eyes out. Years ago, he would have stepped out and let someone else comfort a stranger. But then… Then he though ‘what I was the one sitting there? what if it was Nico? I don’t want to think everyone would just walk away and pretend they didn’t see him…’ and sat down next to him. He didn’t ask if he was okay, when he clearly wasn’t. He didn’t ask why he was so distraught. It wasn’t any of his business, and the question alone would have made this guy feel worse. It was a lesson he had learnt the hard way, through his own experience and Nico’s.

“Oi, you got 2 tens or 4 fives? Some spare coins? I’ve only 20€ in my wallet, and that fucking machine never gives you the right change if you put in more than a 10€ note.” He had asked, when Lori looked up.

“I… I…” He had said, sniffling. Frantically, he had started looking for the money and seemed truly sorry he couldn’t help Martino out.

“Hey, that’s okay. I’ll manage. So, what can I get you? You look like you could use some hot chocolate, though I’m afraid I can only find vaguely chocolatey-flavored water, around here.”

He didn’t think he would get to meet any of them ever again, and then one day he spotted them all sitting at the same table. It wasn’t like Martino had ever believed in fate, but that did seem like a coincidence straight out from a Norwegian teen drama. A French romance. Not that he had ever watched either of them, of course. An occurrence meant to show him that the universe had plans, for the four of them.

In hindsight, he should have told the universe where he could shove its plans…

For a while, however, Martino thought there could hardly be anybody on Earth who got luckier than him in when it came to friendship. They always knew where to find the next best party but didn’t mind spending a night in, binge-watching the latest trashy show that had been uploaded on Netflix. Playing FIFA. Discussing politics, and even ethics and philosophy when they were more than a little drunk.

Everything changed, however, when things started to get a bit more personal. When they started dispensing details about their crushes, their heartbreaks, and Martino foolishly felt comfortable enough to share more of his life with Nico. Painting quite an idyllic picture, as complaints and rants about his inability to tidy up a room and tendency to zone out when they were discussing financial matters would only ever be disclosed to Giovanni. Nevertheless, to say that they weren’t his biggest fans would be an understatement.

“Let me guess, it’s Nico. Again.”

“Okay… So, he can leave on read for hours, but starts panicking if you don’t answer straight away?”

“He put salt in your coffee because you weren’t paying attention? Is he… like, five or something? But well, if you find that endearing… You do you, man.”

And it only got worse after they met him, and began spinning a whole other narrative in which Martino was either a hero or a martyr, for ‘putting up’ with Nico.

“Oh, you're such a great guy not giving up on that.”

“You sure must love him a lot to endure all of his up and downs.”

He reassured them all, told them that he appreciated the concern but that they barely knew Niccolò so he wouldn’t stand for any further slandering of his boyfriend.

So they laid low, and stayed quiet, for a while. It hurt them to see Martino trapped in what clearly was an abusive relationship, but there was nothing more that could be said or done about it. Whenever Nico was mentioned, they changed the subject.

Until tonight. Asking them both to join them at a party, and then corner him and attempted to stage an ‘intervention’.

Couldn’t he see how possessive and controlling Niccolò was, manipulating Marti into thinking his new friends were out to get him?

“The two of you, against the world? Doesn’t it sound disturbing to you?”

“Marti, come on, you have to admit that he has controlling tendencies. He shouldn’t need to know where you are at all times, doing what, with whom. He shouldn’t come up and snatch you away, whenever he notices you spend time talking to the same person for more than 2 minutes.”

“It’s like he can’t stand not being at the center of your attention 100% of the time.”

How… How dare they? Who the fuck do they think they are?

“Get out of my face, you fuckers. If I hear you badmouthing Nico ever again, you’re gonna regret it.”

Thankfully, they don’t try to stop him when he storms out the room. The last thing he wants is to end up in a fight, and having Niccolò find out it was because of him. It had already happened once, with Malik and his friends, and… No revival of that was needed, thanks.

Little do they know about their late conversations, when Martino had indeed noticed was off with Niccolò and tried to find out how he could help. Because Marti couldn’t relate to the magnitude of Niccolò feelings, sure, but he had been there the year before. When everyone in Uni had seemed far more interesting that a boy who still attended high school…

Niccolò has a jealous streak, sure. That had been clear ever since he put in his pasta. But it wasn’t the ugly side of jealousy, stemming from a warped sense of ownership over him. It was more like… Feeling like he didn’t matter, of maybe being interest enough to catch someone’s attention but lacking in keep them entertained. Which in turn made him petty, vindictive, clingy. It was only a matter of time before Martino would agree with those guys, and leave him for good.

Marti tapped Nico's skull, then, and said to his brain "Stop with this bullshit. Stop making my boyfriend suffer, you asshole. You know nothing, zero, zilch, nil, nada. You're worse than Jon Snow.” He bent down to kiss his heart, and went on with "You, on the other hand… You know Nico's the best thing that has ever happened to me and that I'd be a fool not to cherish it. So what if he’s got some flaws? Who cares? Not me. One thing matters and it’s this: no else compares. So yeah, tell him he shouldn't worry: I'm not going anywhere."

"Ever?" He mumbled, not quite ready to believe Martino.

"Kim Jong-un, Nico. Remember?" Marti reminded him, smiling as he stroked his cheek.

"Right. How could I forget King-Kong-Là…" That made them both laugh, and they decided not to discuss the matter any further. They were far more pleasurable ways to spend their night together…

So yeah, screw them. Screw everyone who overanalyzes every little thing Niccolò does, who is always ready to point the finger at him and say that Martino deserves better.

Of course he does, duh. Better friends, for a start.

*********************** All due respect here... There's no respect due. So fuck you and you, and you and you. You're cool, but fuck you... And I'm out of here. (Swear Jar, Illy)

#skam italia #nicotino #my writing

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madamslayyy · 6 years ago

Text

Cake (Trevante Rhodes x Reader)

Pairing: Trevante Rhodes x Black! Reader

Summary: Just another Saturday morning.

Trevante:

Malik:

Diane:

A/N: hope y’all enjoy. I’m thinking about maybe dropping another Trevante fic so let me know if that’s something you guys would be interested!!

~*~

Knock knock knock

You groaned in your sleep. You were hoping it was just your imagination when the knocks came again, this time followed by an unmistakable voice.

“Mooooooom.... Daaaaaaad...” your son was awake and so naturally that meant that either you or your husband would be soon to follow and you’d be damned if you took one for the team.

You kicked your husband’s huge frame, but he didn’t budge. He slept like a log most nights and this was no different. You kicked him a bit harder this time, causing him to jerk slightly. You went to elbow him when he caught your arm mid hit.

He hummed as he let your arm go, opting to encircle your waist from behind, pulling you to his chest.

“Helllooooooo,” your son was persistent this morning.

“Malik’s calling you,” your husband grumbled in your ear, his voice almost unnaturally deep from slumber.

“He could be calling you.”

“We both know he’s looking for you.”

“But he’s your son.”

“You’re the one who gave birth to him.”

“Exactly, haven’t I done enough? The least you could do is let me sleep another hour.

“Nice try-

“I know you guys are up,” Malik called through the door a little louder. You sighed, ready to cave in. The poor kid had been waiting long enough.

“Come in, baby,” you called out and the door flew open as your son headed straight for your side of the bed.

“Mama I need your help.”

“Told ya,” Trevante chuckled from behind you.

“What is it, Lik?”

“I can’t find the....” he glanced at his phone, “evaporated milk and vanilla extract.”

“Evaporated milk and vanilla extract? What do you need that for?”

“For the cake.”

“Cake?”

“It’s Diane’s birthday tomorrow and I wanna bake her a cake.”

“Who the he- heck is Diane?”

“Girl that lives next door. Dre’s daughter. Got the little man in love,” Trevante chuckled besides you. How on earth did he know this and you didn’t?

“I’m not in love! I just... wanna do something nice for her. It is her birthday.... and mom makes the best cakes so I figured it couldn’t be that hard...” you didn’t need the sunlight peaking through the curtains to tell your son was blushing.

“Well I definitely don’t make the best cake using recipes from Google, thats for sure.” You said sitting up and stretching.

“Go preheat the stove to 400 degrees and I’ll be out in a minute.” He left for the kitchen and you prodded your husbands side who seemed halfway back to sleep already.

“Are you gonna get up?” You said shaking his shoulder.

“Why should I? I don’t know how to bake. Plus I put in a lot of work last night, gotta re-up.” You smacked him as you could see the his grin spread across his cheeks even in the dim light. He always did have the whitest, straightest teeth you’d ever seen on someone naturally. A trait he’d passed down to his son.

“Being on the receiving end of said work, you shouldn’t be that tired,” you giggled, hopping out of bed before he could grab you.

One quick shower later and you were in the kitchen searching for your recipe book, while Malik got out the ingredients.

“It’s on the top shelf mom,” he said reaching over you to get it. He was growing so fast, he was almost your height and hadn’t even hit his final growth spurt yet. At 13, you could tell he’d inherit his fathers height as well.

“Well flip through it and pick out which one you want.”

“I already know which one I wanna make. The Black One.”

“You mean my Black Forest Cake? Do you know how long it takes to make one of those?” He shrugged.

“Ugh go get ready, we’re gonna have to head to the store.” You tudged back to your bedroom to find your husband still asleep in the same position you’d left him in.

You quickly changed out of your lazy Saturday morning clothes into actual clothes and took down your hair.

“Where are you going?” You nearly jumped out fo your skin, the timbre of his voice scaring you half to death. You’d been so focused getting your kinky hair into a puff you didn’t notice he’d woken up.

“Me and Lik are headed to the store. You need anything?” You said turning back towards the mirror.

“Yeah, for you to come here...”

“Little busy at the moment,” you smirked. Even after all these years of being together and being married, he still couldn’t get enough of you, his clingy behavior making your heart flutter.

“Yeah but I miss you....”

“I’m right here,”

“You’re about to go,”

“Then come with us.”

“You know I hate grocery shopping,” he groaned. You did know that but you also didn’t care.

You turned around to face him, taking him all in. He really was a sight to see. Smooth, ebony skin. Bulky frame, his chiseled chest home to beautiful turfs of curly hair. Veins rippled through his arms, even in such a dormant state as this. He looked completely gorgeous and completely edible. You felt your insides warm at the thought of his delicious frame intertwined with your own.

You leaned over and placed a gentle kiss near the corner of his mouth.

“Go get dressed,” you whispered.

~*~

Half an hour later found the three of you in your local grocery store, Trevante grumbling about being on basket duty of course. It was still incredibly early in the morning so there was hardly anyone there.

“We’ve gotta get orange icing,” Malik said, leading the way towards the cake aisle.

“Orange? My icing’s made from scratch boy, food coloring will tarnish the flavor.”

“Why don’t you just get her some orange candles instead, little man.” Tre suggested.

“Ughhh,” Malik rolled his eyes and continued down the aisle.

“He’s really is something else. When I was his age I would’ve never rolled my eyes at my mama.” You shook your head.

“Speaking of which....” you said rubbing your husband’s shoulder blades, “how is it he told you about little miss Diane but not me?”

“I was picking him up from school the other week and I saw them talking... wasn’t too hard to see he was crushing on her.” Tre shrugged before relaxing back into your touch.

“Hmmm... wonder why he wouldn’t say anything to me,” you were trying to hide the tinge of hurt in your voice. Trying and failing.

“C’mon, baby, he’s just 13. He’ll come to you about these things eventually but you know how boys are. They think their dads know everything about girls,” he smirked, nudging you.

“I don’t know why he’d think that,” you chuckled.

“Could have something to do with me pulling the finest girl in town,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Still don’t know how I even fell for your corny ass.”

“Because you love my corny ass... and that thing I do with my tongue,” it seemed like at that very moment an old white couple walked by, the woman looking absolutely disgusted while her husband tried to fight the urge to laugh. She hurriedly pulled him out of the aisle.

“Well we’ve effectively scarred two innocent bystanders for today and it’s not even 9am.” Malik walked back to the basket holding candles, milk, flour, and canned cherries.

“We gotta use fresh cherries Lik, come on,” you said steering him in the opposite direction, your husband following behind you.

~*~

A/N: lol told y’all it was short. Hope y’all liked it, this was my first time writing for Trevante Rhodes.

Taglist: @queennanayaa @chaneajoyyy @killmongerthiskoochie @theunsweetenedtruth @blackgirloneshots @blmforeal @erikkillmongerstan @jozigrrl @quietstorm-73 @sailorsenshi420 @wakandamama @mxearth @chefjessypooh @macfizzle @chasingsunlight @dameshaemonique @rubiesandravens @raysunshine78 @melaninmarvel @melanisticroyalty @softnani @vibranium-soul @kingtrevante

#trevante rhodes x you #trevante rhodes imagine #trevante rhodes

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