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dragoneyes618 · 3 years

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Ben didn't have official days off, but every so often he (and his mother) made himself ignore any pileups of work that may have been looming and relax. King of Auradon he may be, but he was also a teenage boy, and everyone needed some down time once in a while.

So now he was sitting in an armchair in one of the small, private sitting rooms that Belle referred to as her "hideaways." It was a small room, with comfortable chairs, beautiful curtains, and hanging lamps. And, of course, piles of books.

His mother was in her own chair across from him, reading. As he was himself. As even his father was, sitting near the door.

His mother was right, Ben mused. There was nothing quite like a good book.

Someone coughed.

Ben looked up.

A woman was standing by the doorway.

That in itself wasn't so unusual. There were many people who lived and worked in Beast Castle, after all, although this room was off-limits. But it wouldn't be the first time someone had snuck in, usually to read one of the books. Belle never punished anyone who did that-in fact, she always gave the perpetrator as many books as he or she wanted.

Ben vaguely recognized the woman as one of the new servants. He didn't know her name, though. He felt bad about that. He always did his best to know the names of all the workers in the castle. Their literal job was looking after his family; the least he could do in return was call them by their names. This woman, however, tended to avoid people, and so he hadn't learned her name yet.

She was elderly, with a lined face and hair that was almost completely white, with just a single strand of black running through it, tied up in a bun. She looked as though she could use a cane, although she wasn't leaning on one at the moment. She wore an old-fashioned dress, all black but with white lace.

Also, she was holding a pistol in her right hand. That was definitely unusual.

It too looked old-fashioned-the kind of pistol that had exactly six bullets, that you needed to manually reload and put in gunpowder each time you used that, that wouldn't work if it got wet, and that had an even chance of exploding when you fired.

Still, a gun was a gun. And she would only need three bullets to kill all of them, if she was so inclined.

"You-" the Beast sputtered. "How-Guards!"

Nothing happened.

"I'm afraid your guards are somewhat indisposed," the woman said, training her gun on the Beast. "They won't be coming to help you anytime soon."

"You didn't..." Belle whispered. Ben swallowed nervously; but they would have heard gunshots, right?

"Oh, they're all right," the woman said. "They're just a bit...tied up at the moment." She laughed. "I didn't do it myself, of course; my family still does have allies, you know. Even now."

"What do you want?" Ben asked.

Both his parents moved toward him, as though to shield him; but he was king. Surely dealing with dangerous assassins was his job?

The woman focused on him. Her face was lined not just with age, Ben realized, but with grief and stress. Her black eyes seemed to scorch into him.

"The boy king," she said musingly. "The one who overturned a generation of wrongs-or tried to, at least. Too late for most. But, as some say, better late than never." She sounded sarcastic.

"No one pays attention to the servants, do they?" she mused. "No one wondered who I was, or where I had come from. It was ridiculously easy getting a job here. I suppose you've gotten complacent, with all the villains on the Isle?" she sneered.

She looked at Ben. "What do I want? I want to have my say."

"Then-speak," Belle said. The longer this strange woman kept talking, the more time there would be for someone to find them, or discover the guards.

The intruder nodded at the Queen Mother. "My name is Madeline. Madeline de Vil. But you probably know me as Malevola."

Malevola de Vil.

"So you have heard of me," Malevola said with a wicked smile. "What do they say about me? That I was one of the greatest fashion designers of the last century? That I was the best owner of the House of De Vil in three generations? That I was a respected member of society? That I would do anything for my family?"

Her face darkened. "Or do they say that I, like all those bearing the de Vil name, are cursed? That I care more for fur than my family? That I am frightening, mad, evil, just like my daughter?"

Ben found his voice. "Cruella de Vil."

Malevola glared at him. "Don't call her that."

"But-that's her name."

"No, it is not," Malevola said, quietly, menacingly. The hand holding the pistol remained steady. "Do you really think that I would give my own daughter a name like Cruella?" She shook her head in disgust. "No. What runs in the de Vil family, particularly with the females, is that people-and by people I mean the general public, people who don't even know us-they give us nicknames.

"Not friendly, endearing nicknames. Perhaps nicknames isn't the right word. I don't know. I was ten when people started calling me Malevola. Ella was twelve when they called her Cruella. My own mother, her name was Dinitia, but do you know what people called her?" Malevola sneered, but in that sneer was anger and hurt at lifetimes-not just her, but many members of her own family-of mockingly being called the wrong name. Perhaps parody was the word she was looking for. Or travesty. "They called her Dementia. You think my daughter is cruel? At least she calls others by their proper names."

"They fear us, you see," Malevola went on. "And they scorn us. So they either name us to fit their beliefs about us, or they mock us, so that they can pretend we don't frighten them."

"I'm sorry," Belle started.

Malevola whirled on her. "You think I have finished?! I have barely even started!"

Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she continued. "You have done me, and many people, a great wrong." She sounded like she was trying to be formal, like she'd rehearsed this in her mind.

"What have we done?" the Beast asked.

And just like that, her composure was gone.

"What have you done?" she hissed, her knuckles white, her eyes wide. "What have you done? You take my children from me, and you ask what you have done?"

She laughed bitterly. "The enchantress who cursed you was right. You are a beast inside and out."

The Beast paled; that was his worst fear.

"First, you took my Ella," Malevola went on. "You took her, and you locked her up, and you said she was a danger and a menace to society and that we should be glad you were taking her away. "For stealing dogs." Her voice shook. "Even young Anita said that the punishment didn't fit the crime. But no, you take her, you do not help her, and you send her away to an island full of murderers."

"She's a villain," the Beast tried to reason.

That was the wrong thing to say.

"She is my daughter!" Malevola screamed.

Ben suddenly understood why people feared the de Vil family. Malevola truly looked like her family's surname.

"And my son, Cecil, came to you," Malevola continued. Her voice was dangerously calm now. "And he begged you, lowering himself, a bearer of the de Vil name, for you. He asked you to help her, to be kind to her, to do something else-anything else-but you refused. "Tell me, Beast, what is the line between villainy and insanity?"

The Beast did not answer.

"And with no other option left," Malevola continued, "my Cecil volunteered to go to your cursed Isle, to be with Ella, to help her, because he could not leave his sister alone. You agreed to that. And you sent both of my children to the Isle."

"Did you plan," Malevola wondered, "for there to be no communication from the Isle at all? Did you want us all to forget about them, to pretend the villains never existed?

"I had no letters. My own were returned, marked Return to Sender. There were no phone calls. Nothing. The de Vil family has much influence, but I could do nothing.

"Do you know what it is like, not to know if your own children are alive or dead? I would not wish that on my worst enemy."

She locked eyes with the Beast. "Twenty years I have waited for word of my children. For twenty years I have not known if they live, or if they were killed within days of arriving on the Isle. And now your son brings my grandson over..."

She sighed. "He looks like Ella. Cecil, too. He has the de Vil hair. All the de Vils, we look like each other. It is yet another reason people find us strange. But my grandson, he is frightened of me. We never knew each other. You took that from me, too. He fears I am too much like Ella, for he tells me that Ella has deteriorated..."

She could have been a hundred years old.

The Beast stepped forward. "If you are here to punish me, then-do so." Belle gasped, but he continued. "Do not make my wife and son pay for my crimes."

"You are brave," Malevola conceded. She looked almost surprised. "But no."

She looked at Ben. "I do thank you, you know. You brought my grandson off the Isle, and he brought me news of my family."

She looked back at the Beast, meeting his eyes directly. She did not speak for a long moment.

"You misunderstand me," Malevola–Madeline–said finally. "I am not here to kill you. I am here only to cause you the same pain you have caused me."

Moving swiftly, she turned, pointed the gun straight at Ben, and fired.

#descendants #the isle of the lost #carlos de vil #cecil b. de vil #cecil de vil #malevola de vil #madeline de vil #madeline malevola de vil #cruella de vil #king ben #ben descendants #king beast #belle #benjamin florian

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softboywriting · 4 years

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Two Steps Forward, One Step Back | Nathan Bateman | Ex Machina

Summary: You and Nathan hit it off at a tech expo. One thing leads to another and the two of you pull a stunt, claiming you’re married. Things get out of hand, and you end up going to stay with Nathan at his home to avoid people trying to harass you about Nathan’s work. The time you spend together will allow for a real relationship to bloom. [Swearing] [Fake Marriage Trope] [Soft!Nathan] [F!ReaderxNathan]

Word Count: 3.3k

|Masterlist In Bio|

One day you realize Kyoko is missing. You're not sure when she stopped appearing, in fact you can't remember the last time you actually saw her. Last week? No. A month ago? Wait,have you been here that long? Time seems to have lapsed here in the facility with Nathan. You worried about this when you arrived. Or maybe when you took the job. Was it really a job? Everything is a little fuzzy in terms of what you are. An assistant one might think, a housekeeper perhaps? No. You took the job as Nathan Bateman's wife. Yes. Job....well...sort of. Let’s go back to the beginning shall we?

Three months ago you met Nathan at the biggest tech expo in Las Vegas. You weren't exactly there for the inventions and hottest tech on the market. You were a handler, an escort of sorts for the creators and investors from companies attending. Your job was simple. Make things as smooth as possible while the people with disgusting amounts of money make big decisions. It was a great gig. It paid incredibly well for being temporary. But Nathan didn't think it suited you.

The second he laid eyes on you it was all over. You had been nervous for days after learning you were assigned to Nathan Bateman for Thursday, Friday and Saturday of the expo. The Nathan Bateman, creator of Blue Book and the AI Project. You may not be a tech genius or even understand most of the things on display at the expo, but you would have to be living under a rock not to know who this man is and what he has done. He is illusive, handsome, sought after by many people the world over. Nathan is the definition of a sugar daddy if you ever did see one. Notoriously single, generous with his money, beyond genius intellect. He is the whole package.

One thing lead to another after you met Nathan at the expo and before you knew it he had your collar bones a mess with hickies and you were dressed in his sweater to attempt to cover them up. It hadn’t taken long before he was all over you, hands in your hair, on your butt, lips on your neck. You and Nathan had just sparked the moment you got close and you let that fire burn as hot as it could.

Of course all things in life have consequences, good or bad, and as you were leaving the rest area for creators, where the little hands on session had gone down, some press junkie saw you together. Photos were taken. Nathan had not been seen with anyone privately in years. He was never seen with a woman, let alone a woman wearing his sweater and looking a proper mess. It was a scandal to be had.

By the end of Friday Nathan was introducing you as his wife, a plan he had come up with on the fly. He had even procured a huge diamond ring for you too. Somehow you were playing along with all of this. Nathan offered to pay you, just for the appearance because it would be good for the company that he was seen as a man like any other, nothing more needed to come of your relations. It was fine. You were getting paid more than you could hope to make in your lifetime and getting to hang out with Nathan Bateman who you actually clicked with and liked to be around. Win win. You had it made. In less than 24 hours you were to be done with all of this and have cash in pocket to do whatever you wanted with.

Until.

A week after you had your crazy weekend with Nathan you were being followed. People kept showing up at your part time job in the travel agency downtown. They asked questions about Nathan, about his work. You didn't know anything. You were half tempted to tell everyone it was fake, that he never even properly kissed you, but Nathan paid you to be quiet, to play along. You signed his NDA. After a man followed you home from work and watched your apartment for two days, that's when you decided to reach out to Nathan. You could call the police and have the man removed, but there would just be others. This wasn’t a matter for the police, it was a matter for Nathan to handle.

Reaching a man like Nathan wasn't easy. He had left you a business card. A number that went to Blue Book human resources. It wasn't a way of contacting him directly, but it was. On the card was scribbled a word. "REQUIEM" You called the number and listened to the prompts. None reached an operator or customer service line. It seemed that no matter what you did it sent you to an automated system. Eventually you got so annoyed you just said the word requiem as if it were a prompt. Sure enough the phone started ringing, connecting to a line.

"Hello?"

"Nathan?"

"How did you get this number?"

"You gave it to me. At the expo." You tell him that it's you and he sighs heavily in relief. "I need your help."

"My help? With what?"

"I'm being harassed because of the expo." Your voice trembles and you realize how much of a toll this is taking on you. "People have followed me to my home."

"Fuck. Can you get to an airport first thing in the morning?"

"Yes."

"Perfect, give me your email. I'll send you everything you need to get away. Pack your bags for a few months. I'll bring you to my facility as a guest until this blows over or we decide what to do next. It's the least I could do."

And that's how you ended up in his home in the middle of nowhere Alaska for the last month and a half. Your whole world uprooted because you decided that a few hundred thousand dollars was worth playing fake wife to the country's richest and most sought after man for two nights. It was so stupid at hindesight, but here you are actually the happiest you've ever been and connecting with Nathan on a deeper level than you thought possible. The two of you just understand each other, it's as if you're two sides to one coin.

______________________

"So, where is Kyoko?"

Nathan looks over from his desk, peering at you over his glasses. You're leaning against the door frame in a nightgown you know he likes. "She's in storage."

"Why?"

"Because I decommissioned her." He turns his attention back to the computer and begins typing.

You step in and he lets out a little warning hum. You know better than to bother him while he's toiling away on code. Being here for this long has been a learning experience with his reclusiveness, but also a lesson on reading his moods. He's not irritated, yet. "Why did you do that?"

"Kitten, you are distracting me."

Kitten. The nickname he picked out day one. Who gives a guest a nickname?

"I'm curious."

"I'm working. You know the rules."

You lean against the desk and he flicks his gaze to you for a moment as your nightgown rides up your thighs. His rules were simple. Don’t bother him while he works, no kissing, no sex. Really you thought the rules were ridiculous. You were meant to be a guest, hiding while the world forgets about your fake relationship. But things don’t go as planned do they? The two of you have been pushing the boundaries of entering a relationship, though it has never been discussed.

"We haven't talked in days."

Nathan sighs irritably. "I am on to something that could be the greatest breakthrough in AI history." He pushes his chair back and pats his lap. "Come sit."

You do as told and plop down onto his lap.

"Now, if I promise to go to bed in two hours will you stop asking questions?" He runs a hand up your back, fingertips dancing against your skin delicately and making you shiver.

"That's a long time. It's already late."

"My patience is wearing thin."

"Alright deal."

"Good girl." He swats your butt gently and you slide off his lap. "Go make that bed nice and warm for me."

You take one last look back and he's already returned to typing. "One more thing."

"Nope. Get out."

"But-"

"Out, Kitten."

"Nathan, come on."

He stops typing and even in the dim light you can tell he is tense and irritated. This is the time to stop pushing his rules. "Go, or I won't be nice."

You cross the room quickly to kiss his cheek and then hurry from the room. You know he is probably going to do something to get back at you for disrupting him amid a coding session. But that's fine. You like seeing him break his own rules just for you.

__________________

Nathan comes to bed some time late in the night. You just recently began sleeping in his room, it’s what really started to blur the lines of what you were to each other. He had invited you to sleep with him after you found that your brain seemed to wander when you were alone in your cold windowless room in the inner workings of the complex and sleep never came easy. Nathan's room is upstairs, with a view out to the forest should you wish to set the windows to day mode. His bed is huge, elevated on a platform, covered in blankets and plush pillows. One may think Nathan's bed would be neat and clean like the rest of the house but no. It's like a nest of comfort, a bog of pillows that you could get lost in.

"Hey, I can tell you're awake."

"Just woke up."

"Everything is okay, you can sleep."

You arch back against him, butt pressed into his legs. "I still wanna know about Kyoko."

"Don't worry about it."

You yawn and he wraps arm arm around your chest. "It's weird. You said she was fine."

"Hush." He kisses your ear. "Sleep."

You fall silent, stewing in your thoughts. What purpose could he have for decommissioning Kyoko? She seemed fine. He said she had been working for years seamlessly. It just didn't make sense.

_____________________

Morning comes and the bed is empty. Nothing new. You wonder what it would be like to wake up to a sleepy eyed Nathan. Bet he'd look so cute. He's so hot without his glasses on. Well, he is hot with them on too but there is just something different about it you can’t describe.

"You wanna go for a walk?"

You look to the doorway and Nathan has his cargo pants and a jacket on. "I'm not awake yet."

"Suit yourself sweetheart. Call if you need me."

"Yep."

You throw your arm over your face. Your dream is coming back to you. It makes you shiver. You had been riding Nathan, hips rolling down into him desperately, his cock filling you so full. God you couldn't wait to do everything with him, if you ever do. You haven't even kissed yet. Even at the expo, he kept his mouth away froms yours, letting his lips travel elsewhere.

Nathan made his rules very clear at the expo and again when you arrived at the facility. No sex. No kissing. You suppose it has to do with attachments for him. You're just supposed to be staying with him until everything settles down around your fake marriage stunt. It's not supposed to be a real thing, but like you mentioned, everything has become blurry and unclear around your relationship with each other. Of course you both know that you have feelings for each other. Head kisses, throat, shoulder and back kisses are now allowed. Bed sharing is allowed. Cuddling. Snuggling. Talking and sharing memories is allowed. You think it's a matter of time before one of you fucks up and throws caution to the wind. What kind of host shares their bed with their guest? What are you doing here?

You crawl out of bed and grab some sweatpants on the floor along with a hoodie. If you hurry you can catch up with Nathan on the trail. Assuming he took the trail.

The air is crisp, a typical fall morning for Alaska. It's beautiful, so clean, so easy to breathe. Nothing like back home. You jog along the trail that leads away from the back porch and sure enough you find Nathan walking with his hands in his pockets.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Nathan turns and stops, smiling softly at you. "Thought you were too tired."

"I changed my mind."

"Uh huh." He plucks at your hoodie. "This is mine."

"Yeah I just grabbed something in a hurry." You stuff your hands in the front pocket.

He runs a hand through your hair, fingertips lingering along the ends. "I like it on you."

"Thanks? It's just a hoodie."

Nathan pulls his gloves from his pocket and passes them to you. "Take these. I don't need you to lose a finger to the cold."

"You won't make me a cool robot one if I do?"

He pulls the gloves back teasingly. "Mmm, on second thought let's see if I can actually do that."

"No!" You giggle and he allows you to take them.

The two of you walk along in silence just enjoying the outdoors and everything it has to offer. Eventually you end up at the bottom of a waterfall. It's loud, beautiful, almost icy when you touch the water at the edge where it pools.

"Do you want to know why I decommissioned Kyoko?" His sudden choice of topic startles you but it’s nothing new. He was always jumping on subjects randomly.

"Yes."

"Because of you."

"What?" You turn away from the water and walk to where he's leaning against a tree. "What did I do?"

"You took her place."

"What? She was your housekeeper and like an assistant or whatever. I'm neither, I'm just a house guest aren't I?"

“Just a house guest...” Nathan chuckles. "Kyoko was everything for me while I was here alone. A friend, a helper, my lover."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "She could fuck?"

"Of course she could fuck." He waves his hand dismissively. "When I say you took her place I mean in my life. I felt that she was unfair to you, that once you moved into my bed she didn't belong anymore. Kyoko is a great distraction but she isn't human, she doesn't think for herself, or feel for me. She doesn't connect like you and I do. It felt wrong to have her keep me company when you are here."

"But when I leave you'll bring her back out."

"No." He purses his lips and looks down. "Actually I wanted to ask you about that."

"Leaving? Have I overstayed my welcome?"

"Quite the opposite actually."

"The opposite? I haven't stayed long enough?"

Nathan pulls his hands from his pockets and gestures for you to come closer. You do as he asks and he cradles your face. "If you're interested, I'd like to actually start a relationship with you."

"Does that mean we can stop dancing around the edges of whatever this is between us? Because I don't think house guests normally sleep in their host's bed, or wear his clothes, or get neck kisses and give shoulder massages."

He smiles and licks his lips. "I wanted to see how far we could go until one of us broke down and drew a line."

"Nathan, I think we probably would have started showering together next if you hadn't said something by now." You laugh softly. "But yeah, I wanna see where this goes."

"So you'll stay with me a little longer?"

"As long as you'll have me."

"Don't say that." He puts his hands on your hips. "I might keep you forever. Might make you my wife for real."

"I'm not doing much for the rest of my life, so why not?"

Nathan laughs and it makes your heart swell. He rarely does so, it's such a treat to hear. "Never thought I'd meet someone I connect with so completely. Really I didn't think I'd ever meet anyone."

"Why not?"

"I'm not exactly social as you can tell by my living situation. But also I didn't think I deserved someone. Like I deserved to be alone, and be the way I am because I was gifted with such talent. I sort of accepted that it was a trade off for my intellect."

You lay your hand on his chest and his heart is pounding. "No one deserves to be alone. No one."

He smiles weakly. "When you called that day, saying you needed help because of the stunt we pulled, I knew it was you. I knew you were my chance at love in this life. There was no way I was going to let you slip through my fingers a second time."

"Second time?"

"I didn't want to leave you at the expo. I wanted to bring you home with me, I wanted to show you everything. But I knew I pushed it already with the wife stunt, and I knew you had a life and I couldn't be so selfish as to take you away from everything while chasing a high I got."

You smile softly and kiss his cheek. "I probably would have gone with you. That was the best weekend of my life and I didn't want it to end."

"I'm glad you let me play with you in that rest area and we got caught. If we hadn't I don't think we would be here right now."

"Don't make it sound so dirty."

"It was a little dirty." He kisses your cheek. "Hot too. You were so ready to just let me do whatever."

"Nathan!" You giggle and he presses his lips to yours. The sensation takes your breath away.

He cradles your face and slides a hand into your hair. He licks into your mouth and you let out a soft whimper. You grip his jacket and he turns you around so your back is against the tree. "Thought this would go a little differently."

"Yeah? How so?"

He presses another kiss to your lips. "Thought we'd be in the house, maybe curled up by the fire or in bed."

"Nathan Bateman a romantic? I'm shocked."

"I live to shock people." He chuckles. "I shocked my investors and my agent with our little marriage announcement."

"You didn't tell anyone it was fake? Not even your agent?"

"Not yet." He grins. "I like to make him sweat a little."

"You're mean."

"Sometimes."

"Well now we've established that this is happening, why don't we head back to the house? Are you free today?"

Nathan takes your hand in his and steps away from the tree. "I'm free every day."

"No you're not."

"I'm free every day you want me from now on." He threads your fingers together. "I promise."

"That's a big promise to make."

"I'll keep it." He brings your hand up and kisses it. "I'm a man of my word, you know that."

"Yes you are."

"Come on, I'm tired of waiting." He pulls you along the path and you walk quickly to keep his pace. "The last month and half have been torture."

You get ahead of him and pull your hand out of his. He raises an eyebrow. He knows what you're thinking. He knows you're going to run for the house and make him chase you.

"Don't you do it."

"Too late." You take off and he follows in hot pursuit. "You gotta catch me if you wanna keep me!"

His arm encircles your waist the moment you reach the porch and he tumbles you both down onto the sun warmed smooth wood. He rolls you under him and pins you by your arms. "You're mine now."

"I guess I am." You smile big and he captures your lips with his once more. “I wouldn’t be anyone else's.”

End .

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buddiebeginz · 4 years

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So I finally got to watch 4x08 and I have a lot of thoughts so be prepared for a long rant.

For starters I literally groaned out loud when I saw they brought back Taylor Kelly. I know that some would make the argument well the only reason you don’t like her is because you want Buck with Eddie. If Eddie didn’t even exist I still wouldn’t like her and I definitely wouldn’t want her anywhere near Buck. She’s incredibly self centered doesn’t care who she hurts at times and can be really manipulative too. Like how she went out of her way to hurt Buck in front of Albert and Veronica for no reason. I get it if she didn’t totally understand why Buck asked her there but she could have said that to him privately. She could have left without turning it into a whole big spectacle to make Buck look like a dick.

Then the stuff she said to him in the hallway was just totally messed up. Buck called her because he got roped into the stupid double date thing and didn’t want to look like a loser in front of Albert and Veronica but also it’s clear he’s been feeling lonely for a while and didn’t want to be the third wheel. He should have communicated more to Taylor what was going on with the dinner but nothing about what he was doing was malicious or manipulative to me, Buck can just be kind of clueless at times.

When they were in the hallway Taylor made it seem like Buck used her. That he basically wanted people to see him with “famous” Taylor Kelly the reporter. The thing is when Taylor got to the apartment she thought that her and Buck were going to have dinner and hook up. She was clearly planning on using Buck for sex like she has before, yet she accuses him of using her.

She called him needy and said that he can’t stand the idea of someone not liking him. To which he ends up apologizing. Watching this I’m like WTAF are you apologizing for Buck? This woman is trashing the shit out of you and you’re standing there apologizing?! I mean this is what I’m talking about when I say she’s manipulative. Like I said before Buck should have communicated better what was going on that night but it’s also not his fault that Taylor assumed he was calling her over for a hook up. I also don’t think Buck called her because she’s sort of famous and he wanted to look good or to use her, I think he didn’t want to look like he’s all alone when everyone around him has someone. He had seen her recently and talked to her about things he’d been dealing with so I think she was the first person he could think of to help him and likely the only one really.

Even after Buck tried to explain some of this to her and tried to be vulnerable about how he was feeling what does she do? She laughs at him then basically calls him a liar and tells him that he treats his friends shitty and his issues with Albert are his fault. Never mind the fact that Buck had opened up to her about feeling uncomfortable about his roommate dating a woman he dated and bringing her home to their house. Never mind the fact that Taylor knows nothing about Buck and his relationships.

I mean she says something earlier in the episode “your life is nothing but meaningful relationships” (talking about the 118) but that’s pretty obvious to anyone who meets them so I don’t give her much credit for that. Not to mention a while back she spent time in the firehouse filming so that was easy enough to see then. But the fact that she could spend time with Buck and he could open up to her the way he has multiple times through out the show and she could still make the kind of snap judgments she does about him or use him the way she does is just awful.

By the end of the episode the shows tries to make Taylor look like this poor sad woman who is dealing with so much and I think they were even trying to make the connection that she was also feeling alone like Buck feels alone. They also try to make it seem like she just wants to help people, again I think trying to connect her to Buck and his innate desire to help everyone around him but I don’t think she’s anything like Buck and I still can’t stand her.

I really hope people haven’t forgotten that this was the same fame hungry woman that was ready to air footage of Bobby (calling out to his dead daughter) and almost jumping off the roof when he had eaten laced brownies. She made it clear when we met her when kind of a person she is. That she was the kind of person who would probably sell her own mother if it meant furthering her career. The thing is I definitely believe characters who make mistakes or who start out as villainous or problematic should be allowed to grow and change (I mean some of my favorite characters are ones that have started out awful) but this doesn’t feel like a character that has changed. At all. The way she went out of her way to try and humiliate Buck in front of Albert and Veronica and the things she said in the hallway prove that. I’ll be utterly disgusted if they try to pair her up with Buck.

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I’m just really tired of how the show seems to treat Buck. I have no problem with characters going through hard times, dealing with others being awful to them, or even abuse. These are all things that happen in real life and can make for great storylines. But if you’re going to show a character repeatedly going through something it should serve a purpose, it should be leading towards something and I’m not sure if the 911 writers get that. I love the show but sometimes I feel like they’re just putting Buck through stuff for the hell of it.

Like we’ve repeatably seen women treating Buck awful which in an of itself isn’t a problem if it’s going somewhere. Like the show could use that as way to say Buck is always picking the wrong people and has problems with speaking up for his needs (likely because of his family). There’s a lot the show could explore with Buck’s relationships especially with him seeing a therapist. Unfortunately though we haven’t been seeing him talking to the therapist and especially after this recent episode where it feels like the same old same old (i.e. a woman treats Buck like crap and Buck apologizes) it just doesn’t feel like there’s a good enough reason they keep writing Buck’s storylines like this.

First there was Abby who I feel like used Buck in some ways to jump start her life back up and then ghosted him when she didn’t need him anymore. Then she didn’t even take responsibility for that when she saw him again nor did the show really let Buck call her out on how she made him feel really. Then there was Ali who knew how dangerous Buck’s job was when she got involved with him and did anyway then chose to drop him when he was going through one of the toughest times of his life. The show didn’t even do Buck the dignity of really talking about what happened with that relationship she just was gone by the next season.

There was Taylor who just used Buck for sex and for her career and who the show tried to paint as being like the female version of Buck which I thought was kind of bullshit. Buck has made plenty of mistakes in his life and he certainly was all about sex when we first met him in season 1 but in the first place Buck would have never sunk to the kind of lows Taylor has just for his career. Being a firefighter is everything to Buck but the 118 are like his family and he wants to be a firefighter to help people not just for fame or glory. There was the lawsuit but Buck didn’t even realize how much that asshole lawyer was going to go after the 118 and I’m pretty sure if he did he wouldn’t have done it. You can tell when Buck talks about it to Eddie how much he still regrets it. As for all the sex Buck was having it’s clear he was looking for a more meaningful connection and just hadn’t learned yet that wasn’t where he was going to get it. Not to mention it seemed like a lot of the women he was sleeping with were just using him to an extent like the therapist who slept with him. Buck is very different from Taylor who in my eyes is not a very empathetic or emotional person and seems much more about herself than anyone else. So the shows need to compare them really gets on my nerves.

Then there was his date with Veronica which was just ridiculous. My problem wasn’t that they had her be some strawman SJW feminist who got offended by everything it was the way they had Buck respond. As usual he wasn’t allowed to stand up for himself and just had to sit there and take the mistreatment.

It hasn’t just been in romantic relationships either we saw what Buck went through with his family and the show just kind of closed that off with Buck forgiving them for a lifetime of abuse.

I don’t get why the show constantly lets Buck get treated like crap by so many people around him and without standing up for himself no less. Like I was so angry about that scene in the hallway with him and Taylor. It would have been one thing if Taylor had lashed out at him (maybe taking her own issues out on him something she could have explained later) but the show still should have had Buck push back against some of the bs she was spewing. I’m tired of Buck having to hear how much of a failure he is. I’m tired of seeing Buck hurt by people he tries to let in. Buck would literally die for the people he loves. He almost has numerous times. So to hear someone like Taylor trashing him and telling him he wasn’t a good friend was so infuriating.

-------

I mean it’s not that everything with Buck is handled bad. I love the relationships he has with the 118 and especially with Bobby and Athena. Her and Bobby are almost like parents to Buck especially when it feels like Buck never really had the family he deserved and I love them for that. There’s also Maddie who has always been there for Buck and their relationship is so important. But the best relationship Buck has is obviously with Eddie. He’s the one who gets Buck the most and who Buck is the most himself with. Buck doesn’t have to hide or hold back with Eddie and neither one of them are afraid to call each other out when necessary.

I love the relationship Buck has with Eddie and I really want them to just get together already, though I know there’s no guarantee that will happen. But if the plan isn’t for Buddie to happen I wish that the show would stop dangling that relationship around every episode as a way to pull viewers in because it’s clear they know how popular they are. I especially wish that the show would be clearer about what they plan to do with Buck’s sexuality. I feel like there’s been so many hints since the beginning that Buck could be bi and I don’t know where the show is going with it.

I’ve seen people saying that Buddie isn’t going to happen and it doesn’t need to happen because there’s already other lgbtq characters on 911 and there’s a main lgbtq ship on Lone Star but I disagree. Buddie could still happen but even if it doesn’t the show could definitely still explore Buck’s sexuality. It would be so important to have a main male character who has been straight presenting on a popular prime time show come out as bi. There’s this misconception that representation in media for lgbtq isn’t that big of a deal anymore because there are so many lgbtq characters now but it is still a big deal and many shows still don’t feature lgbtq characters and storylines prominently nor do their stories justice. They definitely don’t when it comes to bi characters especially bi men.

To have a character like Buck have a storyline that would explore his sexuality would be huge. It would be even more huge if it was about him coming out as bisexual. Biphobia is a big problem not just from straight people but within the lgbtq community maybe even more so in some ways. Popular media rarely shows accurate good depictions of bi storylines. Even when there are bi characters on shows or movies we usually don’t get to see their journey like we have in media through the years with other lgbtq characters. We rarely get to see what it’s like to figure out you’re bi and to live as a bi person. As someone who is bi myself I really want this to change.

The show has made many hints to Buck’s sexuality and it’s something that they could easily explore. If they aren’t planning on going that route though I don’t get why they keep hinting at it. I don’t get why they’ve had multiple instances where people have commented on Buck’s sexuality or being with Eddie and he never corrects them. I mean once would be enough but what is the point of the show doing it over and over? I mean the Lone Star moment was just crazy to me if they don’t plan on doing anything. It didn’t just feel like a throw away joke moment especially since Buck didn’t deny it and Eddie came around the corner it felt like the show was saying something.

If the show isn’t planning on having Buck come out or putting Eddie and him together why does it feel like Buck and Eddie behave almost like a married couple? I mean they connect and know each other almost more than some of the actual married couples on the show. It feels like Buck is Chris’ other dad. I mean we saw Eddie going out with Ana but at the same time it almost felt like it did with Shannon like Eddie just trying to do right by Christopher and make sure he has mom. After the date the one Eddie comes home to is Buck. When Chris is upset the one he runs to is Buck.

If Eddie and Buck and Chris aren’t meant to be a family was does the show keep making it seem like they are each other’s safe space? It’s clear that the connection Buck and Eddie have goes beyond just being friends. It’s just unclear why the show has developed them this way and what they plan on doing with them now.

One last thing in this giant ramble. This episode was called “Breaking Point” but I feel like we didn’t see Buck’s breaking point. I’m hoping that all these bread crumbs are leading somewhere in exploring Buck’s sexuality maybe this episode title was a clue that Buck’s breaking point is coming. We’ve had lots of hints about his sexuality throughout the course of the show and this season in particular there’s been a lot of talk about how lonely he feels and how disconnected he seems to feel from everyone. So maybe we’ll get to see him talking to his therapist and exploring some of these feelings. Maybe if Eddie continues to see Ana Buck will end up feeling jealous and this will bring up feelings he hasn’t wanted to confront yet, about himself and about Eddie. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

#thanks for reading if you made it to the end #sorry these are always so long #911 fox #evan buckley #buddie #911 4x08 #911!#buck s4 #long post #911fan #taylor kelly*

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heartsywritesthethings · 4 years

Text

Team 7 Training 5 (End)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Naruto watched from his window as multiple families bustled here and there. Some with gifts overflowing in their arms, others laughing, and the kids…the other kids his age running around in the snow and laughing. From his small apartment given to him by the Third Hokage, Naruto watched the happy families of the hidden leaf village run around in their winter celebrations. The last few celebrations, Naruto had done his best to be a huge bother to pretty much everyone he could. Everyone had yelled at him to go home and that he was ruining their special family celebrations. When the Third Hokage picked him up last year, Naruto had gotten the lecture of a lifetime. If he wanted to get holiday food this year, he needed to stay out of trouble. As much as Naruto wanted the people in the village to at least notice him, it wasn’t worth it. The leftover holiday foods were the only reason he even cared for this time of year. Otherwise, it was just cold and depressing.

There were a few knocks on his door. Naruto jumped up to his feet and dashed over to the door. It would have to be the Third Hokage. He was the only one who ever visited him. But why was he here so early? Did he bring the food already? Naruto swung open the door and there, just as he expected, was the Third Hokage. He was also with one of Naruto’s classmates though. Sasuke Uchiha.

Naruto had heard of this other boy, of course. Another orphan. The girls in the school were all crazy about the dark haired boy, but Naruto always despised the amount of attention he received. After losing his entire clan because of his brother, Itachi. The village had been a quiet buzz after the slaughter. Adults talked in hushed voices, trying not to let the wandering lone Uchiha know what was on their minds. They gave him food, toys, attention, and even let him stay in his own house.

Everything that Naruto had been denied, they openly gave this boy….

“Naruto, good afternoon. I have a small request for you,” The Third Hokage said, nudging Sasuke into Naruto’s apartment. Naruto stumbled back with a look of disgust.

“Why is he here?” Naruto asked, looking at the other orphan boy as if he were a piece of rotting meat. Sasuke just glared at him, not saying a word. He was shivering quite dangerously though, his pale arms and legs covered in goosebumps.

“His old home does not have the luxury of heat as yours does. As there is no one there to…keep up with it.” The Third Hokage said, avoiding eye contact with the other boy. Another villager passed by, striking up easy conversation with the hokage. Naruto turned his attention to his rival.

“Are you cold?” Naruto asked, though the answer was quite obvious. Sasuke shook his head, though it made his teeth chatter. Naruto sighed and went over to his bed. This was the only blanket he had, but Sasuke looked like he was just about to freeze to death. If that did happen, the village would hate him even more. He took the blanket, carried it over to the door, and easily flung it over Sasuke’s shoulders. Sasuke had at first flinched away from the sudden movement at first before he paused. He pulled the blanket closer to himself, finally feeling warm. After that long walk through the cold and snow, it was nice to finally feel some kind of warmth. It was just surprising that the Third Hokage hadn’t really offered him much of anything during their trek over here.

“Alright, now that you two are settled, I’ll have food sent first thing tomorrow morning. Stay warm and Sasuke, try to keep Naruto in line,” The Third Hokage said, giving Sasuke a look before stepping away from the door.

“I don’t want him to stay here. Why can’t he stay with you?” Naruto whined, poking his head out to pout at the hokage. The Third turned, a smile on his face. He put a hand on Naruto’s head and he pushed him back inside.

“Because I am the Hokage and I have more important things to do other than running a daycare. Play nice.” The Hokage said, finally closing the door and leaving.

Naruto huffed at his own closed door. Not that he really expected anything more as a response. It was just disappointing really. After all of those years by himself, he had grown to see the Hokage as a sort of father figure. But then…he watched others grow up. He watched other kids his age look up to their own fathers. He realized that maybe this wasn’t a normal way for a kid to live.

“When I’m Hokage, I’m going to make a whole place for kids like us,” Naruto promised, turning back to Sasuke. The black haired boy was still standing there, holding the blanket over his shoulders and shivering. Naruto sighed and went back over to the window. Sasuke didn’t move. Naruto tried going back to what he was doing, but it felt so awkward now that was someone in his room. He turned around, staring at the shivering boy.

“Are you going to die?” Naruto asked, staring at the shivering boy.

“O-of cours-se not. J-just c-c-cold,” Sasuke said, stuttering out the words. Naruto shrugged and walked over to his stove. He turned it on. The harsh smell of iron started up, then the soft rattle, and finally the warmth. He waved for the other boy to come over. Slowly, Sasuke came over. He held his palms over the slowly warming stove.

“Is blue your favorite color?” Naruto asked the boy. He moved over to his bed, pushing himself on top and sitting with his legs crossed.

“I-I don’t really h-have one,” Sasuke said, starting to relax ever so slightly as the warmth of the stove slowly flowed over his shivering body.

“You’ve got to have a favorite color. You wear blue all the time, that’s gotta mean something,” Naruto said. Sasuke just huffed out an irritated sigh.

“Everyone in the Uchiha clan wears these. Or…they used to.” Sasuke replied, averting his gaze as he mentioned the loss of his clan.

“So, you don’t like the color blue?” Naruto asked, moving right past the awkward conversation topic. Sasuke shrugged.

“I don’t know. I never really thought about it. It’s stupid.” Sasuke told him. Once he was warmed up, he turned off the stove and removed the blanket.

“Well, think about it now. What’s your favorite color?” Naruto continued. If he was going to have this guy in his room, the least they could do was get to know each other a little bit. They were both orphans and distant from the rest of the village, now they just needed some more common ground. Maybe they could even be friends. Sasuke sat down on the bed next to him, folding the blanket and placing it next to him. He sat there silently, thinking for a moment.

“Black.” He finally responded. He felt pretty proud of himself for finally coming up with some kind of an answer.

“That’s boring.” Naruto said, sticking out his tongue. “Mine is orange. It’s like fire, and the sun, and also like really out there, you know? You see someone wearing orange and you’re like wow! That’s really cool! Wearing black is like you’re going to a funeral or something. Not fun at all,”

“I always feel as if I am going to a funeral after my entire clan was taken from me,” Sasuke said in a monotone voice, staring straight at Naruto.

“Why does everyone like you so much? You’re such a bummer.” Naruto huffed, rolling his eyes. Everything Sasuke said seemed to somehow relate to his lack of a family. Naruto didn’t have a family, but he didn’t think he made it that big of a deal to everyone.

“I just have nothing to look forward to anymore. Nothing except my dream of taking him down.” Sasuke said, also in that monotone voice.

Naruto pounced on top of the other kid, pushing him back on the bed. Naruto sat on Sasuke’s middle, straddling his hips. He started poking and prodding at Sasuke’s torso.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Sasuke asked, his stoic facade beginning to fade.

“I’m trying to see if you’re a monster. Or a puppet. Or made of stone.” Naruto said, poking around Sasuke’s ribs and sides.

“Thahahat’s ridiculous,” Sasuke said, a laugh accidentally slipping from his mouth. Naruto couldn’t help but to smile. He had seen other families do this to their children and it always produced laughter. He continued poke around Sasuke’s stomach and sides, trying to see what would produce the most laughter.

“What’s going on here? It seems that I found laugh buttons,” Naruto said proudly, continuing to poke and prod.

“It tihihihickles. Stahahahap.” Sasuke giggled, flailing his arms around and trying to push Naruto’s hands away from him.

“What do you mean? Is that what this is?” Naruto asked, tilting his head to the side. Where else was he supposed to poke around? Oh right. He began to poke around Sasuke’s stomach.

Almost immediately, Sasuke flipped Naruto off the bed. The blonde landed on the floor with a thud. He was more surprised than hurt. He began to push himself up, but suddenly Sasuke was on top of him. Naruto huffed as his face was pressed up against the cold floor.

“Come on, Sasuke. I was just trying to get you to smile.” Naruto whined.

Suddenly, wiggling fingers began to dance up and down Naruto’s sides and back. He began laughing and wiggling against his will. Since he never had a real family before, he had never really been…tickled. That was, not until now. The electric currents ran up and down his body, causing his legs to kick out and uncontrollable laughter to flow freely from his lips.

“A true ninja knows how to tickle like this. Pay attention and take notes, Naruto.” Sasuke said, and although Naruto couldn’t see it, he was smiling.

Naruto couldn’t even think straight. He was too busy just enjoying being close to another person and just laughing. Usually, the laughter that the villagers heard was forced and fake. A mask of confidence and happiness that he so rarely actually felt. This was the first time he actually felt like a normal kid.

“You are really ticklish, Naruto. This is kind of ridiculous,” Sasuke chuckled, finding himself finally in the position to attack when he had so often been the subject of the tickles. Thanks to his older brother, he had always been the target in his household. This time, he could turn things around.

“I wonder if your feet are ticklish,” Sasuke said. Naruto took a deep breath as the wiggling fingers on his sides and back finally stopped. Sasuke flipped around to sit on Naruto’s calves. Strangely enough, Naruto didn’t bother to try and run away.

“I wohohonder too.” Naruto laughed, pushing himself up slightly so that he could breathe better. Sasuke paused and looked at the blonde over his shoulder.

“Have you…ever been tickled before?” Sasuke asked, feeling weird just having to ask this idiot that question.

“Uh…not really? No one around here really wants to be around me really. But that’s fine. Once I’m Hokage, everyone will be my friend!” Naruto said proudly.

Sasuke stared at him for a moment. It was strange. This kid that had made his school life so damn annoying, this was his reason for being Hokage of the leaf village? To befriend everyone? That was a silly reason to say the least, but he also knew that this kid barely had any friends to begin with. No one in the school was allowed anywhere near him because of what their parents always told them. Sasuke remembered the same thing that his own father had said about the blonde. That he was a monster. But that couldn’t be right. He was just a stupid kid.

A stupidly ticklish kid.

Slowly, Sasuke began lightly scratching up and down Naruto’s arches. Those got some great laughter. Close to his heels got giggles, His toes were the absolute worst. Naruto thrashed and his legs twitched underneath Sasuke’s weight.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA THIHIHIHIS IHIHIHIHS SOHHOHOHOHO MUCH FUHAHAHAHAHAN!” Naruto laughed, his fists pounding against the floor as the tickly feelings overwhelmed his body.

“What? No way! There’s no way you could think torture like this fun,” Sasuke scoffed. This kid was so incredibly strange. Every time he was tickled he thought he was going to die.

“EHEHEHE AHAHAHAHAHA SAHAHAHAUSKE!” Naruto cackled. His face was so red from the lack of air. He was starting to see what Sasuke meant by dying when suddenly, it all stopped. Sasuke pulled himself off of him and Naruto immediately curled up in a ball. His legs and arms twitched as phantom tickles jumped up and down his nerves, but he was slowly regaining control of his body. When he finally came back to himself, he looked up to see Sasuke sitting quite comfortably on his bed. Still breathing deeply, Naruto pulled himself up next to him.

“You okay?” Sasuke asked, looking up and down Naruto’s body to see if he was alright. Usually, after he was tickled, he would yell at his older brother for embarrassing him. Naruto just laid down on the bed, getting himself comfortable.

“Just…tired. I’m gonna go ahead and sleep. There’s ramen in the cupboards if you’re hungry,” Naruto said, stretching his arms over his head.

“Anything other than ramen? It’s the Leaf Holiday.” Sasuke said, raising an eyebrow. While his clan never really participated in the celebrations, he did know that pretty much the entire village participated in the festivities.

“Hm? Oh, I get that tomorrow. Whatever the market has leftover,” Naruto said sleepily, hardly able to keep his eyes open. Soon, he was fast asleep. Sasuke stared out the window for another moment. All he dreamed about was revenge, but now that he was with Naruto, he wondered what sort of Hokage the blonde was going to be. Slowly, he ended up falling asleep next to him as well. He huddled close to Naruto for warmth and soon, he was curled up within Naruto’s arms.

20/25

-Ga!babe

#25 Days of Fics #submission #GA!babe #20/25 #Team 7 Training #aye it's hating the third hokage hours #(it always is)#I love little sasuke #before he went and betrayed everyone like a lil bitch #I wish these two could've been good friends and happy #naruto uzumaki #sasuke uchiha #tickle fic

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dopescotlandwarrior · 5 years

Text

The Dancer-Chapter Two

Previous chapter on AO3 A special thanks to @statell for all your help

Chapter Two

In the absence of maintaining her little book shop, Claire’s swelling bank account allowed her to move into a townhouse with a large main room that she kept unfurnished. Floor to ceiling mirrors lined two walls and custom lighting allowed her to turn up the ambiance to practice new dance routines. A lifetime of frugal living still governed her lifestyle and there was ample money left to hire a private instructor to continue coaching her.

Madu was an Egyptian, born into a family of dancers who followed the traditional dance of the gypsies. He was the real deal and cousin to the studio owner who first took Claire under her wing. His first lesson was very harsh, she was sore for a week and his continued assault of her musculoskeletal system took her to the brink of quitting him. When she was clearly trying to find the words to tell him nicely, he ordered her into several poses with rapid changes, then turned the music on. He asked for the most difficult movements and pushed her to do them perfectly. Claire was shocked she could perform many of the movements used by competition belly dancers, and the bigger picture was revealed to her.

Madu turned up the volume of her sex appeal with instruction in using her eyes to add mystery and allure. Claire struggled through this, but not because it was hard. When Madu demonstrated the classic looks, Claire lost it and laughed until she begged him to stop acting like a woman in love. He was completely ridiculous acting like a seductive woman, but Claire finally nailed the eye movements he was after. Claire’s favorite new moves were athletic and fun, easily incorporated into any routine to heighten the energy of the crowd or break the sexual tension when needed.

“You are not a stripper Claire. You do the exotic dance of gypsies for entertainment not for…” Madu was stumbling to find an appropriate word for erection while staring at his crotch. It was yet another moment when Claire lost her mind dissolving in giggles.

Arms were Madu’s focus for several weeks until she could move them as if she had no elbows. He was a great teacher and his perfectionism fit Claire’s personality like a custom glove. In addition to her dance instruction, Madu added running five miles, four days per week to help her breathing.

If Claire became winded, he would stop the lesson and point to her heaving chest and quivering stomach. Disgusted with her weakness, the lesson would be cut short with the teacher leaving abruptly. Claire would hit the streets and push herself to run faster and farther, day after day, just to see the approval on his face. It was a love, hate relationship and Claire blossomed under his instruction.

Jamie watched the paper for book club advertisements or any other activity that was literature centric. Where are ye, Claire? I know ye canna stay away from books so ye got to surface eventually. He wondered if she left Edinburgh but continued to search for signs of her, week after week, hoping to find she had landed on her feet.

Jamie continued to visit the restaurant, at least once a week, to watch the dancer. He noticed the changes in her movements and felt her beckon him like a siren to a sailor. The first night she showed her face he almost had a heart attack. It was unexpected and felt intensely personal.

The headpieces and scarves that hid Claire’s face were difficult to wear and she was losing patience with using them. Still, if Jamie Fraser was in the audience, she covered her lower face. During one performance, Claire’s face scarf was accidentally pulled off while she danced in front of Jamie. She was horrified and watched his face with mounting fear of being discovered. There was no recognition in his eyes, so she stopped covering her face with great relief.

Somehow, enticing Jamie with her erotic dance and ignoring his requests to speak with her mollified her need to stab him in the heart. When she felt extra hateful toward him, she would dance very close and slip her finger into her bra, pinching her nipple so he would see her reaction. Only he would see it and Claire could torture him with this movement whenever she needed to.

Claire was the vengeful and punishing dancer, Jamie was hopelessly obsessed with her. Neither of them realized how twisted and abnormal this dynamic was.

Jamie sat at his desk pondering his six months of searching for the little bookseller. Maybe she married her high school boyfriend and moved to the country to raise a houseful of bairns. Or maybe she moved to London where she would find like-minded readers to share her love of the classics. He told himself to give up trying to find her. In a last-ditch effort, he placed an ad for a Charles Dickens book club, the location of which was yet to be decided.

Over the following week, Jamie received a handful of inquiries to his anonymous posting. He looked through the names of the interested and brushed them into his desk drawer feeling his quest to find Claire was finally quelled. He might always wonder what happened to her, but he was ready to change her status to someone he once knew. He headed out to catch the early show at Omar’s and get lost in his fantasies.

It was two weeks later when an inquiry for the book club passed over his desk. He read the short response of interest and his eyes landed on the signature, Claire Beauchamp.

“There ye are Sassenach,” he said quietly.

This would require the aid of his sister and maybe a friend of hers to break the ice with Claire, so she didn’t run away at the sight of him. He picked up the phone to recruit Jenny’s help while drafting a notice for the first meeting of the Dickens book club.

“You want me to what?”

“Tell this girl I’ve been lookin for, that I want to speak with her, so she doesna run away at the sight of me.”

“Ye may have lost yer touch with the lassie's brother but ye willna get any help from me,” she scoffed.

“She lost her bookstore when the Edinburgh store opened. She is very young and sweet, and I’ve become obsessed with finding her.”

“The clubs in the city suddenly empty out of lasses?”

“I dinna want to date her or spend time with her Jenny. I just want to know she’s alright. If I can help her I will. Please, Jenny, try to understand that I canna let this go, canna let her go, knowing what I took from her. If she can just tell me she’s fine and landed on her feet, I’ll have no need to speak to her again.

Claire arrived at the designated coffee shop with a Tale of Two Cities tucked under her arm. She was excited to see three women sitting together, open books in front of them, talking animatedly. She felt her soul curl up with a well-worn blanket to enjoy this classic novel with new friends.

“Hello, my name is Claire, I am here for the book club meeting.”

Jenny’s smiling eyes lifted to a face of innocence, bright golden-brown eyes, and ivory skin that hosted not a drop of makeup. Her smile was trusting and sincere and it was clear to Jenny why she had haunted her brother.

After the introductions, the two other women left the table leaving Claire alone with Jenny. Jenny watched her nervous eyes dart around the coffee shop and did her best to corral Claire with a quick explanation.

“Dinna fear lass, this meetin is for yer benefit and I’ll tell ye why. Seven months ago, my brother was ordered to open a store in Edinburgh which caused yer bookstore to close from the competition. He has looked for ye ever since to make sure yer alright. Please, Claire, hear him out before he loses his mind. It might help heal a part of ye also.”

Claire’s heart was pounding. This woman could only be referring to Jamie Fraser, and what was this nonsense about his concern for her? She clutched her book intending to leave but when she stood there was a brick wall behind her.

“Please Claire”. Will ye talk with me for just a few minutes?”

He was blocking her exit so there was only one way to move, back into her chair.

Jenny smiled sweetly at Claire as she vacated the seat. Jamie claimed it and was now facing Claire across the table.

“I swear on my sweet mother’s grave I only want to talk to you. Make sure yer alright, that you found yer way. I promise I willna bother ye again.”

Claire looked up at Jamie’s eyes and felt like crying because they were so desperate.

“You have five minutes Mister Fraser.”

Jamie’s voice was soft and gentle as he inquired about her life, her new job, and her hobbies. He just wanted to keep her talking until she could relax and see him with new eyes. Not of an enemy but someone who sincerely wanted to help her, if she needed it.

Slowly, Claire opened her mind to this unexpected inquiry and assured him she was fine and working a new job she loved. Jamie seemed okay that she didn’t share the details of where she worked because he could see in her face how much she loved it. They shared a second coffee and Jamie finally let go of his guilt about forcing her to lose her business.

Claire had danced inches from this man on so many nights as she worked through her hatred and need to hurt him back. She found it difficult to connect that man with the one across the table as their conversation continued. She watched his eyes and his smile, feeling sad that this was a one-time meeting. Her enemy had a sincere desire to see her healthy and healed from his assault on her life. She forced herself to relax for just a few minutes and bask in the attention of Jamie Fraser.

“Well, I should go, Mister Fraser. I don’t hate you anymore and I appreciate your concern for me, but I am just fine.”

“Your people are lost without ye Claire.”

“What?”

“The customers that joined yer book clubs and school reading program are comin to me to facilitate such things and I dinna have a clue. There is a need for ye and I want to offer ye a job and all the space and support ye need to bring those programs back to Edinburgh. I pay pretty well too.”

Claire could feel the blush burn her cheeks while her heart swelled with the sentiment of her old customers.

“I…I couldn’t Mister Fraser. I’m no longer in the book business.”

Claire pushed her chair out to leave and offered her hand to Jamie. He shook it, slipping his card into her hand he asked her to think about it. The offer was open.

Jamie watched Claire walk to her car and wondered why she wouldn’t divulge the job she was doing now. Something was different about her. Her clothing and hair were the same, but she had a more confident air about her. It was a positive improvement he decided and hurried back to work.

The seatbelt clicked and Claire exhaled a long breath. Maybe she would consider the job and stay close to her beloved books. Maybe her heart would finally thaw out and she could feel normal again. She had lived like a training Olympian for the past six months, dedicated to dancing and training because it felt safe. She looked at his card, I’ll just add this to the stack on my counter, she thought miserably.

Driving home she tried to decide if she was happy during the last six months. She had made great gains with her dancing, moved into a better neighborhood, made very good money, and had her best friend, Geillis. She realized she moved through her days going from one obligation to the next and even if those obligations made her money or improved her skill, they were still obligations. What is the opposite of an obligation? What is the true form or feeling of happiness? She considered these questions for the next several days and finally decided she didn’t know. Maybe it was time she found out.

Claire made a list of all the activities that sounded fun and threw a small notebook in her glove box in case she thought of something while driving. She compiled her list over the weekend and there was a total of three activities. Fishing, camping, hiking and she was only guessing at the fun part because she really didn’t know.

“Christ, if I die tomorrow, I will have lived twenty-two years and never had fun,” she mumbled.

Claire ran to answer her ringing doorbell and a box was thrust into her hand, Madu was on the other side of it.

“It’s a gift from my cousin.”

Claire pulled the top off and gasped at the beautiful hair inside. It was a waist-length human hair wig that she slipped on and felt instantly transformed into a beautiful, exotic, woman. She pulled a comb through the luxurious hair and giggled with delight.

Geillis played with the hair while Claire got ready for work that evening. The sight of Geillis twitching her hips and moving her arms like a hula dancer with the wig puckering at the crown of her head made Claire lose it. She couldn’t stop laughing until she was kneeling on the ground holding her stomach. Geillis scoffed and pulled a panting Claire to the door.

Well, she thought, that was fun.

Geillis helped twist the long hair into a complex top knot that would fall out when she rolled her head, letting the curls tumble down her back as she spun. It was time.

Claire pressed her back against the dressing room door, wrists crossed above her head and waited for the spotlight. The music started with just a wood flute, soft and slow, like the music that pulled the cobra out of his basket. Her eyes were downcast as her body undulated softly. As the music rose in tempo and complexity, her eyes flew open with fear and darted around the room in mock terror. Attempting to push away she looked up at what held her to the door and suddenly threw her body away from the invisible bonds as she twirled, arms out, showing the joy of freedom on her face. Arms wide at her sides she spun across the floor lined with tables until she came to rest in the middle of the room.

Madu’s voice was in her head, “You are alone and free to dance as your joyous heart demands. What would that dance look like?”

Claire’s eyes were downcast watching her hip lift suddenly. A slight smile and she looked at the other hip lift. Back and forth she looked at each hip lift higher and faster. She spread her arms with a huge smile as her body launched into a head-spinning routine of all the classic moves of the belly dancer holding the diners spellbound. She twirled back to the stage door and was once again bound at her raised wrists. She looked up in mock horror and the spotlight went out.

Jamie watched the dancer against the door. He could hardly breathe when she tried to escape but could not. He filled his lungs when she twirled over and over again once free. The hair came tumbling down and bounced with her movements. She had never looked so beautiful and he felt he would explode if she didn’t speak to him.

He handed Omar his card and a hundred-dollar bill and before he could stop himself, he asked for an introduction to the dancer.

“Omar, would ye consider introducing me to your daughter? I have tried, each time I come to see her dance, but she willna reply to my request.”

Omar looked up at Jamie, one of his best customers, and cleared his throat. He was never blessed with a daughter but had come to feel like a father with Claire. If she led this man to believe she was his daughter there was a good reason for it.

Jamie licked his lips in nervous desperation, “is she promised to someone? Is she not allowed to speak to the patrons? Will she ever speak with me?”

Omar was searching his mind for the right response. One that would protect Claire and keep Jamie coming around to watch her. “It is not our custom,” a long pause, “but you never know.” He vaporized into his office leaving Jamie more confused than ever.

As autumn turned to the bitter cold of winter, Claire was running in snow and slush and the humid cold dipped into the single digits. She rounded the corner of her last mile and felt her legs lock up and turn to concrete. She slowed to a difficult walk gasping for breath. She had to get warm or feared she would die, as every step got harder. The nearest building was the new bookstore and she lunged for it as it spun in front of her. Once inside she bent over, hands on knees, hoping the spinning would stop as the floor came up to smack her cheek.

Claire felt her body was being jostled as she returned to consciousness. She was leaning against a large muscular chest so someone must be carrying her. A door closed and she felt a soft couch under her. She kept her eyes closed, more for nausea than a desire to stay hidden behind her lids. Her gloves were pulled off and someone blew warm air against her fingers.

Claire opened her eyes to Jamie, crouched on the floor trying to warm up her hands.

“Jamie Fraser.”

“Oh, good yer awake, ye scared me half to death lass. Dinna move yet. How do ye feel, should I call an ambulance?”

“Certainly not! I am fine, just a little dizzy. I am sorry for the drama, but your store was the closest warm building and I knew I was in trouble. I..I’m really very sorry.”

“Dinna move yet Sassenach! Please stay there for a few minutes. What happened to ye?”

“What did you just call me?” Claire’s voice was soft and questioning and she could see Jamie blush.

“Sassenach. It means …outsider…because of yer accent. Yer no a Scot is what I mean.”

“Maybe if I was, I wouldn’t pass out after running three miles in the cold.”

Claire inched her way into a sitting position and took a deep breath, feeling better but not well enough to run herself home. Jamie kept telling her to stay put so she did, enjoying a lovely chat with this interesting man. He fed her cookies and coffee until the color came back to her face. When Claire glanced at her watch and almost shot off the couch reaching for her phone.

“Madu! I am so sorry! I passed out halfway through my run today and I’m at the new bookstore in town. Can you come and get me? Yes, I’m alright, my friend here saved me with cookies and coffee. What? No! I did not say cookies. Why, did you hear cookies? She laughed weakly and dropped her phone into her coat pocket. She smiled at Jamie.

“Thank you for the rescue Jamie but I am out of your hair. She shook his hand and feasted on the bluest eyes she had ever seen, “goodbye.”

Jamie watched Claire from his upstairs office until a car pulled up to take her away. No cookies, he thought, what kind of life is that?

Jamie wanted desperately to watch the dancer tonight, but he was just there last night. He worried about his obsession with her and pushed back with a limit of once per week. The night before she had dropped backward like she was made of rubber and he felt her head on his shoulder. It took him several minutes to breathe normally again.

“Who are ye lass, and why won’t ye speak to me?”

A month later Claire was bobbing through crowds of shoppers as she ran through the retail district of Edinburgh. She couldn’t wait for the holidays to end so she could have her solitary run back. She launched into a sprint and heard her name called in the distance. She turned to see Jenny Fraser and friends, arm waving over her head with a big smile.

“Claire! Come say hello!”

Claire smiled and jogged back to the group and Jenny. Four women about her age were all smiles and warmth, talking about Christmas and Hogmanay. Claire was swept away by the welcoming women and allowed herself to sit and chat over hot cocoa. She could hear Madu in her mind listing the evils of sugar and became increasingly agitated until she broke away from the group and started running again. It felt like she was transported to a town in a Rockwell painting where she would have friends like Jenny and weight gain from Christmas treats was her biggest concern. Maybe someday she thought.

Getting back to her townhouse she added something to her list of fun activities on the refrigerator. “Having Cocoa with friends.” Her list was growing. There were now six activities.

Jamie struggled through Christmas day at Lallybroch. His anxiety felt like an army of ants had invaded his legs, biting him without mercy. When supper was over and cleaned up, he took off for the Bookstore to catch up on some work. Try as he might, the oppressive walls were closing in on him before a single report was read. It was useless to continue his fake reading, so he grabbed his coat and walked the streets, looking in store windows and letting his thoughts wander. Someone ran past him, billowing steam from panting and running quickly away.

“Claire!”

She stopped and turned around but all he could see was a white smile deep inside her hood. He caught up to her and putting his arm around her they walked together. Claire was really happy to have a diversion on this lonely day and night. She needed company and for a time Jamie was a dream come true. They pointed and joked about what was displayed in shop windows and Jamie asked a lot of questions that she couldn’t answer. He finally gave up to enjoy the respite offered by little Claire tagging along.

“I will respect yer privacy Sassenach, no more questions about yer job or where ye live. Can I ask why ye run all the time, and without cookies! So, tell me the truth of it, squirt.”

Claire looked up at Jamie and felt a friendship that she knew was real, still, all she could do is laugh and shrug her shoulders just before she took off to run home.

“Wait! Have ye thought any more about the job?”

Claire was jogging backward so she could see him, “I’ll do it!” Said laughing, before she turned around to run home.

Jamie watched her until her form was little more than a dark mark on the horizon. It was getting quite cold, so he turned toward the bookstore to head home.

Now that the distraction of Claire was gone, the shrouded mystery dancer spun in his head and Jamie felt his anger rage. Get out of my head, he thought, I’m tired of livin like this and I’m tired of you. Jamie forced her out of his thoughts and instead took a hard look at what was becoming a real problem. His constant presence at the restaurant, stalking her in the parking lot, shelling out at least four-hundred-dollars a month and losing interest in any other part of his life. Jamie pulled his truck to the side of the dirt road he lived on and looked straight ahead at Lallybroch.

He stayed in that position like he had been turned to stone. All the supporting evidence of his ill-placed obsession ran through his mind over and over until his head pounded. The obvious answer was to stop seeing her, cold turkey. She refused to speak to him for months and his continued pursuit was pure folly, if not illegal. He exhaled a long, sad, breath and promised himself he would see a therapist if he could not stop on his own.

“Christ, I need a twelve-step program for belly dancer watchin. A new low for ye Jamie boy,” he said to the air, and finished his miserable ride home.

Jenny was in the living room bundled into a blanket on the couch with her phone in hand, laughing and texting one of her gang. Jamie sat down and sighed rubbing his hands on his jeans. His sister saw his miserable face and put her phone down.

“I know ye’ve been possessed by some problem lately. Is this a sign yer ready to talk about it?”

Jamie looked at sweet Jenny’s face for a full minute before speaking. “I have a problem Jen and it’s gonna ruin my life if I don’t find a way out. Let me tell ye what I’ve done.”

Jamie talked for thirty minutes, pouring his heart out and leaving no secrets. Jenny had never heard more than a handful of sentences out of her brother in one sitting so she made not a peep during this momentous confession. She wiped at tears in her eyes twice, feeling her brother had been duped out of his money and time by swindling gypsies.

Jenny was furious. The boy who walked her home from school each day, taught her how to drive, took her shopping for her prom dress and held her up during their father's funeral was hurting. He was the king of men to Jenny and she was rocked to the core with hatred for this belly dancer.

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staticscreenwriting · 5 years

Text

All you have to be is here - Part 2

Synopsis: Billy has fucked up and has to do 60 days of community service at a home for troubled kids and youth. Working with the kids there makes him learn a lot about himself. Also there’s a girl there his age who’s smile is phenomenal and who is way too nice to him.

I guess I should mention there’s a lot of angst in this. Talk of substance abuse later on, physical abuse, emotional abuse. All that kind of gnarly real life stuff. It deals with kids and teens struggling with a a shitty family life so be aware of that.

Part 2 of ?

Part 1 //

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please. I’ll make a header image at some point.]

I never really ever felt so adored before Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable Don’t have to hide, don’t have to fear All you have to be is here Never really ever felt so adored before And I said I wanna feel like this forever Even if forever’s just for now We’re on fire, let us burn As the outside world, it turns We are here and alive In our corner of time Forevermore

There’s a heavy weight settling on Billy’s chest as the morning sun falls through the curtains. As he lifts his head off of the pillow a pair of copper coloured eyes stare back at him. The cat softly snuggled up on his chest, is more the size of a small child than a cat. It’s big and orange and looks like it’s got no care in the world as it rests on Billy’s ribcage.

Billy lets his eyes wander around the room, trying to take in as much as he can. It’s a tiny room with a couch that’s way too small for him to sleep on properly, but incredibly comfortable nonetheless, and a tv pressed against the opposite wall. There’s a dirty ashtray resting on the couch table next to a seventeen magazine and a vial of bright red nail polish.

(Y/N) lives here alone, safe for the monster of a cat, he’s figured out this much. There’s hardly room here for a visitor, much less another person. God, what he wouldn’t give for a place of his own. Some place that isn’t tainted with anger and sadness and bad feelings all around.

“ Oh, you’re awake. Great, I made breakfast ! “

Billy leans up a little further, resting his weight on his elbows and yet the cat shows no intentions of actually moving off of him.

(Y/N) is leaning against the counter of the kitchen that’s connected to the living room. There’s a light blue fridge flanked by bright orange cabinets and a rusty sink and a stove that seems like it’s about to fall apart any second. It all looks like a downright mess and still Billy finds himself envious. Because no matter how big of a mess, it’s solely hers.

“ Your cat is suffocating me “ his voice is rough and still soaked with sleep and exhaustion.

“ I told you he’s fat and clingy. He likes you though, that’s good. “

“ What’s he do to people he doesn’t like ? “

“ Pees on them. “

“ Geez “.

Slowly Billy sits up further, the cat slowly sliding down from his chest and into his lap.

“ Just pick him up and put him down somewhere else. “ (Y/N) directs him nodding her head towards the orange furball.

Billy does as she says, getting off the couch and placing the cat back down, before walking over towards the kitchen area of the apartment.

“ Here. Breakfast for champions “ (Y/N) exclaims and hold out a bowl of what looks to be lucky charms and a spoon. It’s a plastic bowl, a bright orange one that looks like a basketball. He remembers having one of those when he was little. It was his favorite and mom always used it to serve him alphabet soup when he was sick.

“ Thanks. “

“ Sure thing. That’s a pretty gnarly looking fist you got there. “

Billy glances down towards his hand. It’s red and swollen and bruised and it looks ridiculous holding onto the basketball bowl. Like his present is holding onto a part of his past that he can never go back to. A part of his past that seems like a whole lifetime ago. That feels like a whole different person all together.

“ Whatever “

And really, it is whatever. In the grand scheme of things it’s just a bruised first and some bloody knuckles. The implications of it to be forever his and only his to know about.

“ So do you do this often ? “ he asks, trying to steer the topic away from himself and his wounds, visible and invisible.

“ Do what exactly ? “

“ Let strangers sleep on your couch. “

“ You’re starting to sound awfully ungrateful there Hargrove. And that even though I made you breakfast ?! “

“ You poured a bowl of cereal “

“ Your point ? “

And it’s then, that Billy has to crack a smile. It’s not as if he doesn’t smile during his day to day life. He does. A lot. Only usually they come in order to get something in return.

The smiles come whenever he wants to get a girl into his bed. Whenever he charms the ladies at the swimming pool. Whenever he tries to sweet talk his way out of a situation.

This one comes from some place else. He doesn’t get anything in return. He doesn’t need anything in return.

Sometimes a smile is just a smile and that is all it needs to be.

“ How old are you ? “

“ Excuse me ? You’re kinda giving me whiplash here with the change of topics. “

“ Yeah that didn’t answer me question at all “ he says and shoves another spoon of lucky charms into his mouth.

“ I’m 17, almost 18. I’m in my senior year. “

“ And you live here by yourself ? “

“ Yup. Got emancipated when I was 15. “

He almost chokes on his cereal at that confession. It’s not something he has been expecting. Sure he was aware that something must be going on in her life but things must be pretty rough for someone to get emancipated at 15.

Again he finds himself envious. Of the freedom. The independence. Of all the possibilities she has. The one he can’t even dare to dream about, living with Neil.

Envy is ugly and mean and cold and it comes with anger and resentment that directed towards people who do not deserve it in the least. He tries so hard to keep it at bay, shove it down to rest with all the other emotions, all the rest of the baggage. He knows one day it’s all gonna boil over. It comes in little bursts every once in a while but one day, one day there’s gonna be a big meltdown. One that’s gonna sweep over everything like a tidal wave. Like one of the real big ones he used to surf back in California. Back Home. Back when things were better and mom was around and his chest wasn’t feeling so heavy.

“ Damn, what happened ? “

“ That is none of your business. Just uh — you’re not the only one who’s family life isn’t all sunshine and daisies. “

There’s something in her eyes as she says that, that seems oh so familiar to Billy. Not because he’s seen it before but because he knows that gleam, he’s felt it before. So many times over so many years.

People say that misery loves company. That a trouble shared is a troubled halved. He thinks that bullshit. People who say this live comfortable lives. They don’t know real misery, haven’t lived through it.

Billy doesn’t ever want to see the pain he feels in other people. Not that same kind of pain. Physical one he’s caused his fair share of, but emotional pain ? Nah. That’s something he doesn't ever want to see in another one’s eyes. And as it stares back right at him from (Y/N)’s (Y/E/C) eyes, it doesn’t feel like his pain is halved, it seems twice as heavy, twice as painful.

“ Look, that actually brings me to my next point. You gotta get outta here. I need to leave for work in about 20 minutes so … “

“ Volunteering isn’t until 4 today, it’s sunday you gave me the schedule. “

“ Yeah well, Billy Idol, volunteering doesn’t pay my rent. I work at a diner. “

“ A diner ? No way. Do you have a little apron and everything ? Pencil behind your ear ? “ he teases, finishing his bowl of cereal and placing it in the sink.

“ Would you believe it if I told you I even got roller skates ? “ (Y/N) replies and pulls up her lip in distaste.

“ No fucking way “.

“ I wish I was lying. “

“ Here in Huckley ? “

“ Mmmh… “

“ Dammit, I knew Hawkins was a shithole. Can’t believe this even tinier shithole has a diner with roller skating waitresses and Hawkins does not. “

“ Ah don’t worry, they’re not all as hot as me. You’re not missing much. “ as she says it, she’s smiling and the hurt in her eyes is almost gone. But once he’s noticed it, Billy is sure he will never fail to find it again. It’s always there. Simmering. It’s part of her just as it is part of him. It never goes away, at least he hasn’t experienced that. Maybe someday in the future it will. He hopes so. He really truly hopes so.

“ Bummer. “

“ I know. Anyway, you gotta go. “

“ Geez, you’re hurting me babe. Usually it’s me kicking the girls out of my bed. “

“ I’m sure your ego will survive. I’ll see you at volunteering later, right ? “

“ Court ordered, remember ? “ He says, slipping on his jacket and boots and walking towards the door.

“ I’m sure you’ll have a good time today. We’re doing arts and crafts “

“ What ? I haven’t done any arts and crafts since 4th grade. “

“ Well then it’s about time your start again, huh ? “

“ Are you shitting me right now “.

“ Oh Billy, I would never !”

- XXX -

When Billy arrives back home, he’s grateful to see Neil’s car is not there. Sooner or later he’s going to have to deal with the situation but he sure as hell is preferring “later”.

The thing with Neil is that whatever he does, it’s never predictable. Sometimes he’ll yell, sometimes he gets physical and sometimes, those are the worst times, he says things. Mean things. Things that he knows very well will hurt Billy. Things that feel like a stab right into the heart.

There’s a sick sense of pride in Neil’s face whenever he has one of those days. Like hurting Billy brings him satisfaction. A weird gratification.

It’s disgusting. And sad. And it makes Billy so furious. If Neil wasn’t like this, so sick and twisted and always angry, mom would still be here and they’d still be in California and he’d be a normal teenager with normal problems. No bruised knuckles, no black eyes. A teenager that wouldn’t have to be afraid to come home. Home, this place doesn’t even feel like home. It never did. It probably never will.

Billy doesn’t know where exactly home is. It’s not here though.

He slowly trudges through the house, taking note of Susan’s shoes being gone as well. She always leaves them by the door because “ that’s just the way people do it”. Like a proper little housewife keeping her proper little house neat and tidy for her proper little family. It’s making him sick. There’s a lot of anger in him directed towards Susan. Some of it is justified. Some of it is not. He knows he shouldn’t fault her for what happened with his mother. Susan isn’t the one who drove her away. Susan didn’t smack her around day in day out. Susan isn’t the one who decided to just up and leave, forgetting all about her son. Susan has done none of that and he knows he can’t resent her for this.

There’s part of his animosity towards her that is more than justified. She knows what’s happening sheltered behind the walls of this house. She hears it and sees it. This woman has a front row seat to Billy’s misery and she does nothing. Just watches and waits and stays silent. To top it all off, she brings her daughter into this place. Billy wonders if it was Max instead of him, would she still be watching. Would she act ? Despite his problems with Max, he hopes he never has to find out. He doesn’t trust Susan to stop the watching and actually act.

A mess of red locks dashes around the corner and collides with his chest effectively pulling him from his thoughts.

“ Watch it, shitbird. “

“ Sorry “ Max murmurs then hurries past him, only stopping just before the front door, hand already on the handle.

“ Billy ? “

“ What ? “

“ Are you okay ? “

Is he okay ? Yes. Billy is always okay. It’s his default setting at this point. Billy Hargrove — okay. There’s a certain amount of pain you can go through until you become kind of used to it, kind of numb. It seeps into your system and settles deep inside your bones and becomes a part of you and before you know it that’s your normal and you’re okay. But is that really a way to live ? He wonder often. To only be okay, never fully happy. Halfway happy at best. Always okay never more.

Billy is okay — but he really doesn’t want to be anymore. Okay is not enough.

“ Yeah. Why ? “

He knows Max cares, that’s just the person she is. She cares deeply even if she hides it under a veil of teenage rebellion and girl power. He doesn’t want her to, can’t really let himself accept the fact that she cares. Max, with all her spunk and sparkles, is a constant reminder of the life that was taken from him. One with a mother who loves him. One who doesn’t run off and leaves her to fight for her own survival.

And yeah maybe Susan just silently watches but at least she’s there. At least she loves Max enough to be there and no abandon her.

Billy wishes he could let go of the negativity and just accept Max affection. But he can’t. He can’t. Affection that isn’t sexual, is not something Billy ever really gets to keep in his life so it’s better not to feel it at all than to feel it and have it taken away again at some point.

“ I dunno. Just — last night “

“ Yeah, whatever. Just forget it alright ? It’s none of your business anyway. “

“ Alright, god. I was just asking. “

“ Yeah well don’t !” he calls out to her before rushing into his room, slamming the door behind him.

As he looks at himself in the mirror, Billy can hardly recognize the person staring back at him. It’s been like this for a while. He feels very detached from it all. Like he’s living a life through a hazy filter, clouded by anger and agony. His mom would be disappointed in him. For dealing with things the way he does. For treating people the way he does.

Then again, his mom has given up the right to judge him when she pissed off and left him behind.

A glance at the clock lets him know that he’s still got a few hours before he has to be back at HHTCY. He presses play on his stereo and Metallica sounds through the house at a deafening volume.

What he needs now, is a smoke and a shower and in that order.

- XXX -

“ Why are we doing this again ? “ Billy asks as he helps (Y/N) distribute the arts and crafts supplies to all the kids.

“ It helps “.

“ Helps with what ? Confirming that someone is crazy ? “

“ No one here is crazy you asshole. No it helps with dealing with stuff. “

“ Does it now ? Is that what you say or what the looney doctors tell you ? “

“ Look “ (Y/N) says as she places a set of paint brushes on one of the desks “ this is fun for the kids and the experts say it helps them so who am I to question that ? I’m just a volunteer, hell I still go to Highschool “.

“ Oh yeah, you don’t go to Hawkins High do you ? I would’ve seen you. “

“ You would’ve not but uh — no. I go to school here in Huckley. Huckley High, Home of the Huckley Honey Badgers. “

“ Huh, “ Billy says and suavely leans against the supply closet “ didn’t think this tiny shithole had it’s own High School. And with it’s own team and mascot too. Impressive. “

“ Lose the snarky remarks please. I’ll let you know Honey Badgers are vicious and mean and dangerous, okay ? “ (Y/N) remarks and waves around the brush she’s got in her hand, pointing it at Billy every once in a while “ but yeah, it’s just a tiny High School. No big deal. I bet your School in California was different huh ? “

“ Was just a fucking High School like any other. Wait — how do you know where I’m from ? “

“ You have a California license plate, “ (Y/N) replies before turning away from him “ and I may have read your file. “

“ You did what ? I — that is 100 % against company policy ! “

“ Yeah well so is smoking on the premises and I didn’t rat you out so I guess we’re even. I had to know what I was dealing with here. “

He’s not mad really, it’s not like there’s things in there that he doesn’t want anyone to know. The things he keeps hidden aren’t written down in any file, they’re in his heart locked away from prying eyes. Safe. Secure.

“ Hey (Y/N), there’s a call for you”. Another volunteer, Jeff, says motioning towards the back office adjacent to the arts room.

“ A call ? “

“ It sounded urgent, I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me his name. “

So it’s a he. A boyfriend maybe ?

Billy quickly shakes that thought from his mind. That’s not a mess he wants or needs to get into right now. Is she cute ? Yes, she’s gorgeous but things are all around fucked up at the moment and he doesn’t need to add a heartbroken coworker into the mix. You don’t fuck around at work, that’s common knowledge.

“ I told you not to call ! I work here, how did you even get this number. “ he picks up bits and pieces of the conversation that (Y/N) whisper-yells into the phone. Maybe not a boyfriend after all.

“ Well don’t. Don’t call again. Leave me alone. “ when she hangs up the phone, she leans against the wall for a moment, letting out a big breath. Something is weighing on her, it’s clear as day and thought Billy doesn’t want to get involved with anyone else’s problems, he’s still curious about what just happened.

“ You alright ? “ he ask when she comes back “ boyfriend ? lovers quarrel ? “.

“ Fuck off, Billy “ (Y/N) replies, all joking and teasing gone from her voice. She looks around for a second to see if any of the kids have picked up on her swearing. They didn’t or if they did they don’t seem to care.

Lydia stands in front of the class, telling the kids some pseudo deep shit about painting their feelings and all that crap that they seem to believe in here. Billy thinks it’s absolute bullshit. There’s problems that can’t be solved by drawing rainbows and singing songs around the campfire. It’s a disservice to the kids to make them believe that’s how the world works, with paint and songs and good thoughts.

“ What I want you to paint today, is a happy memory. A moment you can remember being completely content. “

Billy can’t help but let his mind wander, trying to come up with a happy memory of his own. His thought immediately go back to California, that’s where he used to be genuinely happy. Even thought it was a long time ago he can still picture it in his head like it was yesterday. The only joy he feels in Hawkins is when he’s balls deep in his latest conquest, but California ? California at least held moments of a happy past.

He pictures the beach, the waves that seemed so big to him then. Like huge fluffy curls reaching up all the way into the sky. He feels the ocean breeze on his skin, smells the salt, hears the seagulls. His mom is there, twirling in the sand like some Hippy ballerina. She’s smiling and she’s so beautiful. Her laughter sounds through the air like a long forgotten lullaby. And Billy, he was so young then, so innocent and — happy. The world had not been cruel on him then, or at least he had someone to shelter him from most of it. Back then, she still loved him. Someone still loved him.

Maybe the beach was just a beach and the ocean just the ocean but with someone there who loved him, it all felt magical.

She doesn’t love him anymore and all the magic is gone and he’s cold and bitter and perpetually pissed off.

Happy memories are one hell of a drug and nostalgia is a goddamn liar. When he thinks about that memory now, focuses really really strongly and doesn’t allow the filter of nostalgia to cloud his judgement, he can paint another picture of that day. They’d went to the beach because Neil had been drinking more than usual. His mom had a black eye. The smile didn’t even each her eyes.

The memory was happy to him now because he decided to remember it that way. Though reality was quite another story.

He turns to look at (Y/N), only to find her drawing a picture herself. They weren’t supposed to actually take part in this class, just supervise and setup and clean afterwards. She’d told him that beforehand.

“ What are you drawing there ? “ he asks, peaking onto the piece of paper before her. There’s a big blob of blue and what he can only guess is a swingset.

“ A happy memory “

“ Oh yeah, wanna elaborate ? “

“ Again, it’s none of your business but sure. It’s uh — it’s Lake Michigan. My mom used to take me there every year for my birthday until I was 12. I loved it there, I love the beach and I’ve always dreamed of the ocean. We couldn’t really afford a trip to the coast so this was the next best thing. There was a swingset there and I could just spend hours swinging and looking at the lake. It was magical. “

He thinks it’s kind of ironic that both their happy memories come back to the beach, albeit two vastly different beaches in two very different memories.

“ You’ve never been to the coast ? The ocean ? “

“ Nope. But It’s what I wanna do for my 18th birthday. I wanna swim in the pacific. I wanna feel the sun on my skin and taste the salt in the air. “

“ Once I’m done with school I’m outta here and back on my way to California. There’s room in my Camaro if you want to carpool. “

“ Spending several days in a car with you ? Why would I do that ? You’re aggravating ! “

She smiles though. When she says it she smiles. He’s heard those words from Neil before. Aggravating. They stung then, they don’t sting now. There’s no malice in them this time. She says them almost like a compliment. What the fuck is going on here ?

“ I’ve been told. You’re not a very good artist. “

“ And you’re not a very good flirt and yet all girls seem to swoon at the mere thought of you. “

“ Do they now ? “ he asks, signature Billy Hargrove smirk playing on his lips. “ How would you know that ? “

“ I have friends at Hawkins High. “

“ And you talked to them about me, now isn’t that adorable. “

“ Don’t flatter yourself, man. “

“ You think about me, that’s so cute. Honestly I can’t blame you. “

“ Oh my god your ego is the size of a small country. Unbelievable. “

“ Don’t get shy now (Y/N). “

“ Could you please stop. “ she says but she’s laughing. Her laugh is warm and comfortable and honest. It’s a laugh that reminds him of days when he wasn’t bitter or sad or angry.

“ Never, I’m never letting that go. “

“ That’s what I’m afraid of. “

And when she goes back to drawing on her memory, Billy thinks that maybe there are little happy moments here in Indiana. They don’t make great memories to think back to and they’ll probably dull and vanish someday in the future. They’re not monumental or important. But they are there. In the teasing and the laughter. Even if it’s just a temporary feeling. It’s there. It’s real. It’s his.

- XXX -

The following week is exhausting for Billy. He’s constantly on the go, driving to school then work then HHTCY. He can’t wait for the pool season to be over so he can scrap that off of his schedule and find a job that doesn’t require him to just sit around in the sun all day. It used to be fun at first but at this point it’s just a drag.

It’s friday evening as Billy sits on the cushioned chair in what is technically not (Y/N)’s office watching her do the last of the paperwork for that day. They both have the next saturday off and even though Billy is still expected to see Dr. K. he’s so glad to not have to work or go to school for at least one day.

“ You got any plans tonight? “ he asks (Y/N), who only glances up at him for a moment then focuses back on the paperwork.

“ Nah, why ? “

“ Just thinking. There’s a party at a classmates house. Her parents are loaded, huge mansion. Free drinks. You should come. “

“ Are you asking me to come to a party with you ? “

“ That’s exactly what I just did. “

Before she can answer a knock sounds at the door and Alex, one of the girls who stays at HHTCY permanently steps into the room.

“ Hi (Y/N) I just uh — oh hi Billy “ she says as she spots him sitting in the corner and blushes.

“ Hi ? “ he’s never spoken a single word to this girl. She’s about 13 or 14, around Max’s age. There’s a mop of bleach blonde hair on her head and she’s wearing entirely too many bangles on her wrists.

“ You wanted something ? “ (Y/N) chimes up and Billy can see the smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. What is this all about ? Girls really are a different species all together.

“ Oh yeah. I’m staying at my mom’s in Hawkins for the night. Lydia has sign off on it already it’s all fine, I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving right now. I’ll be back by noon tomorrow. “

“ Okay cool. I hope you have a good day at your mom’s “

“ Yeah me too. Thanks. Bye. Oh and uh — bye Billy. “

“ Bye ? “

When she leaves and closes the door, (Y/N) descends into a fit of giggles.

“ What’s so funny ? “

“ She has the biggest crush on you and you don’t even notice”.

“ She’s a kid ! “ Billy points out.

“ Yeah well I was a kid when I had a crush on Mark Hamill “

“ Mark Hamill ? “ Billy asks incredulously “ Star Wars ? “.

“ Yeah ? What about it ? “

“ Oh my god, you’re a nerd. You have a crush on Mark Hamill and you named your cat after him. You’re a nerd, (Y/N). “

“ Uh, no I just like good movies and Mark Hamill looked very dreamy. Get off my case. “

“ Never “ he laughs and it’s then that he realizes that he’s laughed more in the time he’s started working here than he has in the last few years. It feels — freeing. It feels good.

“ So who was your crush then, huh ? “

“ Pff, I’m never gonna tell you that. “ Billy scoffs “ so how about that party ? “

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagines #dacre montgomery imagine #dacre montgomery fanfiction #dacre montgomery fanfic

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thehomeforthehopelessromantics · 5 years

Text

After All This Time Part II:

(I also have no idea how many parts this is gonna be)

(I just love writing angst sooooo)

A month later…

“Why do we always watch this movie? I cry every time,” Neo whined, wiping some of the tears off his face. Moe was here too but when the end scene came up she went and my room and refused to come out until Neo was done crying. Moe was as big a baby as he was so having both of them crying would be totally overwhelming for me.

“Because it’s my favorite movie and you love me.” I rubbed his back soothingly. The ending of Dead Poets Society is absurdly devastating, but I’ve watched it so many times I’m cried out.

“I need to love you less. This is ridiculous,” he mumbled into his palms, trying to still himself.

“You want to go get ice cream?” I offered, knowing that he was a big kid and ice cream always made him feel better.

“Yes, please,” he sniffled and I had to let out a laugh. Works every time.

“Let me go get Moe.” I went to my room to find Moe completely passed out, sprawled across my bed. I shook my head, letting out a sigh.

Tossing on a random T-shirt and a pair of boyfriend jeans and my combats, I grabbed my keys, and a sleepy Moe who was coming along so I could drop her off at home since she had work in the morning and my big blubbering friend who was wearing a pastel pink hoodie and jeans. We got in the car and I dropped Moe off and then drove us to his favorite ice cream spot. A little shop called, Delights. We both ordered chocolate chip cookie dough and went to wait for our order.

“Y’know the guy I was telling you about?”

“The guy you’ve been completely sprung on? Nope never heard of him,” I said with a straight face as he shoved me back playfully.

“Anyway,” he drawled. “I was talking to him the other day. He tried the ice cream from this place and said he had a friend he had to take here. The guy is trying to get over some girl who apparently left him high and dry. Poor guy.”

I little bit of guilt shot through me as I thought of Blu, but I brushed it off when I heard the door open. Glancing up over I saw two guys at the door and I heard Neo gasp and chirp happily, “Dally!”

Before I knew it he was hugged up with a guy who’s face I recognized instantly. I swear my heart dropped to my toes as I looked behind him and saw the exact person I didn’t want to see.

***

Blu’s POV

“I don’t know why we’re here,” I grumbled. I just wanted to stay at home and be miserable and miss her and watch her favorite movie. Instead I was dragged out of our dorm and to this stupidly happy looking ice cream shop. Delights. What an abnoxiously happy place. Disgusting. “We’re here because someone recommended it, I love ice cream and you need a pick me up,” he said, looking at me pointedly. I just rolled my eyes. I knew his heart was in the right place, but this was the last thing I needed.

“Is this ‘someone’ the guy you’ve been seeing? How long has it been now? A month?” I taunted, taking some joy in watching him turn red at the mention of his guy. Every time he came home from a date, he’d have this dazed look in his eyes and when I ask him how it was he just said “Splendid.”

Dalton is one of the strangest people I’ve ever met, but honestly I don’t know what I’d do without him. How many friends are willing to try and help you get over someone you haven’t been with for a year and half now?

We walked in and I squinted as I took in the bright colors. The walls were a bright baby blue with pastel pink details and it overall kind of hurt to look at. “Dally!” I heard a very obviously male voice say happily before running over and hugging him. I laughed as I repeated the funny nickname to myself. Dally? What is this? The Outsiders?

I almost choked on that laugh when I looked over and saw her. Staring right at me. I know I’d seen her like a month ago but that was all the way across the room. Here she was just a few feet in front of me– a few steps and I could have her wrapped in my arms again. I swear it took everything in me not to just hold her and not let go ever again.

“Hey, babe,” Dalton grinned, hugging the boy who had latched onto him. My attention diverted to them for a second before going back to (Y/N) who was now staring at the floor, fidgeting uncomfortably. “What are you doing here?”

Pulling back, the guy rolled his eyes. “Me and my roommate watched Dead Poets Society and I got upset so she brought me here.” Turning, the guy ushered (Y/N) over and I saw the look on Dalton’s face change.

“This is my roommate-” “(Y/N)?” Dalton asked incredously, looking over at me nervously. I knew he was worried about me, but right now being this close to her was the clearest my head’s been in months. “Hey, Dalton.” She mumbled, still refusing to look up from the ground, biting her lip.

“You’re Neo’s roommate?!”

“Roommate and best friend since forever.” She smiled ruefully. “I swear, I didn’t know it was you Neo had been seeing recently, I wouldn’t have-”

“Nice shirt,” I chimed with a smile.

I’d recognize the Michael Meyers flipping you off shirt anywhere. It was mine and still far too big for her and still looked better on her than it ever did on me. I’m shocked she still has it.

Glancing at her shirt confused, she understood and huffed and shut her eyes. I knew it was almost unhealthy how hard I was watching her, but honestly, you couldn’t have paid me to care.

She opened her mouth to say something when the guy at the register called her name. Turning she went and grabbed her ice cream and I saw him slip her a piece of paper that when she turned around she rolled her eyes at and threw away.

When she got back to where we were standing the guy, whose name I’m assuming was Neo, looked at her like she was crazy. “Did that guy just give you his number?”

“Yeah, so?” She shrugged and I felt my jaw clench.

“Why’d you throw it away? The last date you’ve been on was high school! Go get that number out of the trash,” he demanded

Dalton and I made eye contact with each other, both clearly confused. Did he just say the last date she’s been on was high school?

“Shut up, Neo,” she mumbled lowly to him, giving him a pointed look.

“What? No,” he insisted. “You need to go get that guy’s number. He’s cute!” I almost laughed at how Dalton’s face shifted.

“He is?” Dalton asked amusedly.

Neo look flustered for a second before hitting Dalton’s chest. “Shut up.” Dalton in turn grabbed the hand that Neo now had against his chest and kept it there, smiling. “Now like I was saying, high school was way too long ago for you to not-“

“Does he not know?” I interrupted, looking at (Y/N). The fact that she didn’t answer me was answer enough. Her best friend had no idea that me and her were ever together. Talk about a slap in the face.

“Know what?” Neo asked innocently, looking at (Y/N) questioningly. “Wait, how do you all know each other?”

Taking a deep breath, she screwed her eyes shut seemingly dreading what she was about to say. “I know Dalton through Blu.”

“And what do I not know?” Neo turned, looking at her pryingly. When she didn’t respond immediately he put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “(Y/N/N)?”

“He’s an old... associate.”

“Associate?” I said incredulously and I saw her wince, eyes still closed. “Do all kiss all your ‘associates?’”

“He’s my ex… something.” She opened her eyes as Neo looked between the two of us in shock.

“Ex-boyfriend,” I clarified without even thinking. There was no way I could stand here and let her try to claim I was just some over attached hookup or an fucking associate.

“We weren’t official,” she snapped back, her voice firm but when she looked over at me something in her eyes wavered slightly.

“Not official?” I raised my eyebrows in shock. “You’re kidding me right?”

“Does it sound like I’m kidding?” she said, looking at me with annoyance, If I wasn’t so dumbstruck at the fact that she doesn’t think we were official, I’d’ve had to stop myself from kissing her cause she look so adorable… okay I have to stop myself from doing that anyway, but I’m less inclined right now.

“So you tell all your ‘not boyfriends’ that you love them?” Her eyes hardened as she stayed silent, the only indication that she’d even heard me was the fact that I saw her hand clench around one of the cups. “Or are you going to deny the fact that you’re the one who said it first like you want to deny that I was,” and still am, “yours?”

She clicked her tongue in annoyance and rolled her eyes, mumbling a quick, “I don’t have to deal with this.” Before handing one of the cups to Neo and then buzzing past me faster than I could comprehend. I almost turned to grab her and stop her from walking away again. I wanted to keep fighting with her. I don’t care if it turned into an all out screaming match, just hearing her voice put some energy back in my bones.

Dalton stopped me before I could get her and keep her in reach. I tried to shake him off but he wasn’t having it. Looking back, I saw her figure walking off into the darkness and into a car that I’m recognized was her blue bug and I felt my heart sink.

I almost had half a mind to slap Dalton for not letting me go after her. “Let go of me,” I scowled, mumbling angrily as he let go and my feet went on auto pilot towards the door when Dalton came and stood in front of me.

Alright, now he’s starting to get on my nerves.

“You’re not going out there, Blu.”

“Why the hell not?” I asked irritatedly. “She’s right there and I’ve been dying to talk to her forever.”

“Yeah and it’s gonna be another lifetime before I let you get this close to her again,” he said with finality in his tone.

I glared at him, hoping he would crack under my stare, but he looked totally unaffected. “I’m not asking for your permission to go have a conversation with my girl.”

“Ex- girl,” he stressed, looking me hard in the eye. “You seem to forget that the bitch broke your heart once upon a time. I’ll be damned if I let her do it again.”

I opened my mouth to tell him to not call her a bitch when I was cut off.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” I heard Neo who I forgot was hear say from behind me. Dalton’s face paled as his eyes shifted over to Neo. Turning, I swear I saw fire shoot through his eyes. “That ‘bitch’ is my best friend and has been forever and I’ll be damned if I let you talk about her like that.”

Dalton’s body language changed the longer Neo talked. I glanced outside, debating if I should just go and let them hash this out but something about the hostile tension in the air made me stay put, just in case. I already knew this conversation wasn’t gonna end well.

“Well Blu has been my best friend too and last time I checked he didn’t break (Y/N)’s heart like she did his.” He crossed his arms, giving Neo a glare.

“I don’t care what she did or didn’t do, don’t call her a bitch, Dalton.” If I thought he wasn’t mad before, the hostile nature of his tone cleared that right up and told me in a fight Neo might just be the one to watch out for. Something in his eyes said that he was capable of way more than he let on.

“Or what? You’ll stop seeing me?” Dalton snapped back, a sarcastic laugh leaving his throat. “For her? Any goddamn day of the week,” Neo sneered.

“Do it then. Make’s no difference to me.” I could’ve slapped Dalton again, but now it’d be for being such a damn liar and a hot head when he’s mad. He knew that he’d care if him and Neo stopped seeing each other. He’s been crazy about him for longer than they’ve been seeing each other.

“Consider it done, babe. Now if you’ll excuse me I’d like to leave the assholes convention and go back to my best friend.”

“Yeah you do that.” He rolled his eyes as Neo walked past him, intentionally shoulder bumping him in the process. Shooting me a glare he left the building and Dalton stood in that same spot, fists balled up at his sides.

“D?” I said hestiantly, unsure of how he was feeling. “Are you okay?”

He snapped around with a swift “I don’t wanna talk about it.” He let out a deep sigh, shutting his eyes to collect himself. “Let’s just go home.”

We left the ice cream shop and I could tell we were both hoping the same car would be in the lot.

***

(Y/N)’s POV

“So do you want to explain how exactly you managed to be in a whole relationship and I didn’t know?” Neo asked pryingly. If it was anyone else I would think that they were pissed off, but I knew him better. He was hurt that I didn’t tell him.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to tell you,” I tried to reason, forcing myself to keep my eyes on the road rather than looking at my best friend who I just wanted to hug right now.

“A simple ‘hey, by the way, I’m seeing someone’ would’ve done!” he huffed, head snapping in my direction. I winced slightly. I knew I should’ve told him about it right away but I just couldn’t. I don’t know why.

Maybe, because you knew that you actually could see yourself with this guy in the long haul and it scared the crap out of you.

“I just.. I didn’t know how to tell you. It started out innocent flirting and I thought nothing would come of it.” “How do you go from innocent flirting to I love you to strangers all while your best friend has no idea, (Y/N)?”

“Look, I will tell you the whole story when we get home I swear, just please let my heart stop racing. I wasn’t prepared to see him tonight,” I practically begged, my hands clenching the steering wheel. Neo stayed silent for a moment until he sighed and nodded, putting one of his hands on my leg and squeezing it reassuringly.

We made it back to our apartment and went inside and instead of kicking off our shoes and cuddling on the couch we took off our shoes and got changed into our pjs before I went and sat on his bed, preparing myself to say what I should’ve told him a long time ago.

He sat down across from where I sat on the foot of the bed cross legged. “So you ready to explain?”

I nodded my head and took a deep breath. “Okay so… I met him by accident. It was the beginning of the semester I was rushing to get to class and he was standing with Dalton and their other friend Cole and I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and I ran into him. He helped me pick up my stuff and we talked for a second and then I went to class. When I opened my notebook I saw that he’d somehow written his number and the words ‘when you see this call me’ on it. And I mean come on, I’m not blind, he’s attractive, so I called him after class. I became friends with him and the guys and sure we would flirt, but it really was innocent at first.”

“What changed? When did it stop being innocent?” Neo asked, shifting to sit cross legged. My whole body heated up as I thought about it. I was suddenly glad that the lights were dim cause the look on my face would’ve been enough of an indicator as to what happened.

“Well we were all hanging out at Blu and Dalton’s and we were drunk off our rockers. Cole was on the phone in the Blu’s room talking to his girlfriend and being all pouty about how much he missed her and Dalton was passed out in his room and I was in the kitchen with Blu…”

“You and him? Drunk and alone? Sounds like a great time,” he taunted cheekily and I shoved his shoulder, laughing slightly.

“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes. “So I was sitting on the counter and he was leaning on it next to me and for some reason we couldn’t stop laughing. Literally nothing was funny and yet all I remember doing was laughing. And…”

I wiped the tears from my eyes, holding my sore sides with a ridiculously big smile on my face. “I think that we shouldn’t have had that last shot of whatever it was that Cole gave us,” I giggled, not even being capable of remembering what the name of the drink was.

“Probably not,” he mused, staring at me with bright eyes. I suddenly felt self conscious under his stare.

“Why are you staring at me? Do I have something on my face?” I proceeded to run both my hands over my face multiple times, trying to get rid of whatever was on my face.

I heard him let out a laugh as he grabbed my wrists and pulled my hands from my face, making me aware that he was now standing in front of me, between my legs.

“Why are you so damn cute?” He huffed with a smile.

“Genetics?” I offered, totally unsure of how to respond to that. Maybe if I was sober, I’d have half a mind to blush or say something witty but right now I didn’t even bat an eye.

He chuckled, slinging my arms around his neck before grabbing me by my hips as my breath caught in my chest. He let out a deep sigh. “I really wanna kiss you,” he mumbled, eyes dropping to my lips.

I almost choked on my own spit as my jaw went slightly slack. “But we’re friends. Friends can’t kiss friends. That’s a rule or something right?”

“Friends can kiss friends, there’s no rules in friendship,” he argued, tugging me closer. Some small part of me knew I should stop him, but I didn’t even care. I liked his hands on me and how it felt being this close to him.

“Yes, there are,” I insisted, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling it to emphasize my point.

His eyes closed for a moment when he let out a short laugh before opening his eyes again. “If you don’t want me to kiss you then I don’t think you should do that again.”

“I never said I didn’t want you to kiss me,” I drawled, rolling my eyes, thinking that this was obvious. “I’ve wanted you to kiss me for a long time. I just said we can’t because we’re friends and friends don’t kiss friends.”

“So you do want me to kiss you?” he asked with a smirk.

“Duh, that was I just said. You’re really bad at keeping up with stuff, huh?” I rambled before I could stop myself and I saw something in his eyes shift.

“I guess I am,” he mumbled, resting his forehead against mine. “I just... if I said we weren’t friends anymore could I kiss you?”

“You don’t want to be friends anymore?” I pouted, my heart hurting at the thought of it. He shook his head slightly, eyes glazing over.

“I don’t wanna be your friend. I want...” he whispered, moving to my neck where he placed soft kisses going up toward my jaw, “to kiss your neck.”

His head came back up, face hovering dangerously close to mine. I felt myself lean in slightly and my eyes fluttered. He took the hint and pressed his lips to mine. We should’ve been moving slower considering it was our first kiss, but with both of us having too much alcohol coursing through our veins, being gentle and tender went straight out the window.

Every kiss was heated and intense, like it was the last time this would happen. I pulled on his hair and he moaned into my mouth before letting one of his hand trail down my leg, lifting it to keep it secure around him. The other hand moved up to my neck, settling at the base of it and squeezing slightly. One of my hands clamped around the wrist of the hand that he had on my neck while his tongue invaded my mouth. God, everything about him was intoxicating.

I let one of my hands travel down his chest and up under his shirt and within seconds he was detached from me and the shirt was being thrown somewhere in the room. I grabbed him by the waistband of his sweats and brought him back to me. Maybe I looked a little desperate and needy, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. He didn’t lean in to kiss me this time, just bit down on his bottom lip and stared at me.

“Hey, don’t do that,” I chastised as I grabbed his face and leaned in to kiss him, separating his lips and biting down on his bottom one. “Biting you is my job,” I whispered seductively and he let out a low groan, his grip on me tightening.

“God, I wish we were alone,” he admittedly breathlessly, eyes roaming all over me before settling on my eyes.

“We are alone,” I teased, feeling a little more sober. “You know what I mean smart ass.” He rolled his eyes, fighting a smile.

I hummed out of amusement. Seeing him this riled up was fun. “I’m sure I don’t.” I trailed my hands down his chest, stopping just shy of his waistband as my eyes followed before looking back up at him. If he didn’t look like he was tempted to say screw it and take me right here on the counter before, he sure as hell looked like it now. “We should probably make sure that Cole isn’t dead.”

“Cole’s fine,” he insisted, gripping my hips tighter, as if preparing to not let me move away from him.

“Put your shirt back on Blu,” I ordered, taking my hands off him and putting them on the counter next to me so I can lean back.

“What if I don’t want to?” He leaned in for a kiss, but I turned my head so it landed on my cheek. He let out a chuckle. “You’re not gonna make this easy are you?”

“Make what easy?” “Wanting you,” he said as he made eye contact with me. “It was hard enough before I knew what you tasted like. Now I think I’m screwed.”

I reached up and ran my hand through his hair briefly. “You poor unfortunate soul.”

Reaching up, he covered my hand that was on the back of his neck with his own hand. “Did you just quote The Little Mermaid at me?”

“Put your shirt back on and maybe I’ll answer that question.”

He let out a sigh, seeing that this was a fight he wasn’t going to win and reluctantly removed himself from me and went to put on his shirt. I jumped off the counter, stumbling slightly before starting to walk back towards Blu’s room, where we left Cole. I felt Blu follow me anxiously, the air around us more charged than usual. Even in my drunk haze, I knew that we’d just crossed a bridge that there was no coming back from.

“Whoa, that’s... hot,” Neo gushed as I came back to reality. “Why didn’t you call me and tell me what happened?! You know I live for dirty details.”

“I just didn’t, I couldn’t,” I tried to explain. “Every time I started to tell you, I chickened out and then I fell in love and was a complete goner and then I was breaking things off with him and it just never came up. You were finishing your senior year and I was already a freshman. I didn’t want you getting caught up in my drama.”

He reached out and slapped the side of my head. “Ouch! What the hell was that for?” I asked irritatedly.

“I’m your best friend stupid, it’s my job to help you deal with your drama.” He shook his head at me. “So why did you break up with him?”

“I didn’t break up with him, we weren’t even-“

“Spare me the bull, (Y/N). You said it yourself you were in love with him. Y’all were official. So why the break up?”

“I... It just wasn’t gonna work.” I let my head drop, staring at the palms of my hands. “I wasn’t any good for him.”

“Why not?”

“I just wasn’t. I knew what kind of girl he needed and I’m never gonna be that, so I left,” I mumbled with a heavy heart.

“You knew what kind of girl he needed?” he asked, looking as if he was about to face palm. “Are we taking about the same guy who looked half ready to tackle that guy who gave you his number?”

“Stop that,” I laughed slightly, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t make fun of me, I know I’m not what Blu is looking for in the long haul. It was easier to break it off sooner rather than later.”

“What is it that you think he’s looking for?” He asked, giving me a flat look, laying down across the bed.

“I don’t know, someone more...” I searched my brain for the correct word to explain it. “Consistent?”

“Consistent?” He repeated, sruching his face up at me.

“Yeah. Consistent,” I repeated with more surety, shifting to lie on my stomach next to Neo. “I’m flightly and my feelings change fast. The whole time I was with him I was so scared I was gonna go to a party with Moe or something and I’d get too drunk and carried away and I’d mess everything up. Once early on I’d gotten caught up dancing with this guy and had to stop myself because I couldn’t stand the thought of doing something like that to him. I just...”

A deep sigh left my lips as I let my face fall onto the soft blanket underneath me. “You know me, Neo. I change feelings more than most people change their underwear.”

“You’re giving some people too much credit on how many time they change their underwear,” he joked and I reached out and hit his shoulder playfully. “Babe you’re overthinking this. You’re consistent enough to have dealt with me for the last entirety of your life thus far—and we both know I’m a handful.”

“Oh absolutely,” I laughed, “Poor Dalton has no idea what he’s walking into.”

I expected Neo to laugh with me but I was met with silence. Looking at him, I saw him staring down at his palms, not a trace of amusement on his face.

“Neo?”

“I’m not seeing Dalton anymore.”

“Wait, what?” I asked, propping myself up on my elbows. “Why?”

“He called my best friend a bitch. There’s no coming back from that,” he said, trying to come off like it wasn’t a big deal.

“He called me a bitch?”

Neo modded his head, humming in confirmation. “He was talking to Blu when he said it.”

“Dalton you can’t stop seeing him just cuz-“

“Yes, I can, (Y/N).” His eyes came to meet mine with a hard sure look in them. “You’re my best friend in the whole world. No one is allowed to bad mouth you and still be apart of my life. I’d pick you over anyone, just say the word.” “B-But you really like him,” I said and he looked away from me and sighed, clearly thinking of Dalton.

“That doesn’t matter.” He shook his head as if trying to shake away the memories.

“Yes it does,” I insisted, leaning over him to grab his phone off his nightstand. There was no way I was gonna let my best friend’s love life suffer because I’m a coward. “What are you doing?” He asked confusedly as I unlocked it. “Calling Dalton.”

“What?” he almost screamed before lunging out at me trying to grab the phone. I kept it out of reach and went looking through his contacts. He jumped on top of me, practically straddling me and took it back. “You are not calling him.”

“Why not? You like him, he likes you,” I stressed. “You and Dalton shouldn’t be fighting because me and Blu.” “I don’t care, I don’t want to see him. He called you a bitch and had the nerve to get mad cause I got upset. I don’t want to see him and I don’t want to talk to him, (Y/N). I mean it,” he said demandingly and I sighed and nodded my head. I knew better than to argue with him on this, even thought I knew he didn’t mean half of it.

***

“You should come home,” Lorelei pleaded. “I’m going insane without you guys.”

“Lori, Junior Year is not that horrible,” I laughed, rolling my eyes as I laid down on my bed, with my feet where my head should be. “Yeah it sucks and you’re gonna wanna kill yourself but you’re a big girl, you’ll survive.”

Lori was Neo’s younger cousin who adored Neo more than anything. And there’s nothing Neo loves more than being adored. So (as soon as Neo stopped treating her like a little kid) she became our resident baby back home. That one freshman who was hanging out with a junior and a senior all the time in high school? That was Lori.

“But I cant do another year without you guys let alone two!” She exaggerated and I laughed, shaking my head.

Forever the drama queen.

“We miss you too, Lori. Honestly we could use the comic relief right about now,” I mumbled, not really meaning for her to hear it but not being able to stop myself from saying it.

“Everything okay out there?” She asked, conern lacing her voice.

“Yeah, we’re fine. Just got some boy drama, nothing super spectacular. Other than that we’re aces babe,” I joked, letting out a sarcastic chuckle.

“You two always have boy drama.” I could practically hear the eye roll in her voice. “I wish I had your luck with guys.” Her being the youngest and Neo being super protective she never got the chance to do much dating. She thinks it’s because she’s unlucky but honestly? She’s gorgeous, she’s got her mother’s red hair and her fathers brown eyes and she’s one of the sweetest people I know and an absolute hopeless romantic. The second that she wants it (especially now that Neo is living with me and can’t breath down her neck anymore) she’s gonna have guys kissing the ground she walks on.

“Oh trust me,” I drawled, “You don’t. I’ve actually made a little bit of a mess recently which is why we have boy drama.”

“Ooo... do I get details?” She askes excitedly, probably already invisioning the movie/teen romance novel storyline I’ve been living.

“Yknow sometimes I forget that you and Neo are related and you never failed to remind me that you are.” I chuckled.

“And, we’re dodging already,” she said knowingly. “Whose the guy?”

This girl is gonna do amazing in psychology.

I let out a heavy sigh. “Who he is...” I trailed off slightly, picturing all the soft early morning smiles and kisses we shared, seeing the broadness of his smile and the adorable in his eyes. “Who he is isn’t important,” I shook my head to rid myself of the thought. “It’s his friend, Dalton. They like each other but Dalton called me a bitch and Neo wasn’t having it and now they won’t even look at each other and I know Neo is upset by it.”

“Wait, why did he call you a b-word?” I smiled a little, hearing the fact that after all these years she still won’t curse.

“Ugh, I’m gonna have to explain aren’t I?” I sighed, running my hand through my hair.

“Yup,” she said happily, obviously pleased that she’s gonna hear the story.

“I hate you, have I ever told you that,” I teased, going to my bed and curling up, clutching my childhood teddy bear to my chest.

“Several times actually,” she said with mock serious and I let out a laugh. “Now spill.”

“Alright alright, so there’s this guy. We...” Fell in love. “Has a thing a year or so ago and Neo had been seeing this new guy and what are the odds of the new guy being my...” I paused, stopping myself from saying my guy. He’s not mine anymore. “The guy I used to mess with’s roommate and one of his best friends.”

“So they’re not speaking because this Dalton guy doesn’t like you cause you and his friend don’t speak anymore?”

“Pretty much.” I sighed, digging a hand into my curls in frustration. “I’ve tried to convince Neo to just talk to him, but he’s as stubborn as a mule.”

“It’s a family trait,” she beamed and I smiled, really wishing I could hug her right now. I haven’t seen her since Neo and I moved in together. “But in all seriousness. You know Neo’s not gonna talk to him, right?”

“Sadly I do know that, I just wish-“

“No wishing,” she cut me off abruptly.

“No wishing?” My face scrunched up as I tried to figure out where she was going with this.

“Nope.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? My best friend-“

“Needs a little push.” I could almost hear the grin on her face as it began to click.

“Lorelei... are you suggesting I bypass Neo entirely and go talk to Dalton for him?”

“I would never suggest such a think,” she gasped overdramatically. “But if you were to do it, I wouldn’t say it was a bad idea.”

“Have I told you that I love you lately?”

“You don’t tell me enough,” she mused.

“If this works, I promise I’ll fix that,” I laughed.

“I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“I’ll call you later and let you know how it goes.”

“You better or I’m gonna come up there and beat you with your favorite nude pumps,” she threatened.

Shaking my head, I said “Later Lori.”

“Later babes.”

I heard there phone click off and sat there for a second before putting on my shoes and jacket and grabbing my keys.

This better work.

@jermeeeeee hope you like it hun

#crush #crush imagines #fluff #imagine #angst #angst imagine #best friends #ex lover #stubborn #excerpt from a story i'll never write #excerpt from a book i might write

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robot-unicorn-attack · 5 years

Text

CHAPTER 01 – SNOW

(written by @ayzrules)

… CHAPTER 01.

The Neon Demon was pretty much exactly how she remembered it - the music was too loud, the lights were too annoyingly strobe-y, and the people were just as plastered.

Marivana, Ice, and Sky (whose real name was Seraphina) had all arrived fashionably late, of course, and after the usual barrage of greetings and niceties (which Marviana was usually able to get out of without much fuss after the first ten minutes or so - thank the stars that she was Snow, now, instead of Snow Princess, otherwise she would have been stuck exchanging pleasantries for the entire damn night – Marivana found herself a drink and a comfy chair on the raised dais reserved for the racers, and waved her publicist away to let her get in all the socializing she could want. The security detail that TWILIGHT had assigned to each of their racers were mixed in with the party-goers, preferring, as many Ice Worlders did, to remain discreet

Gods, but she hated these kinds of parties. The Neon Demon marketed itself as some kind of classy, high-end nightclub, but when it came down to it, all of these “luxury” nightclubs were basically the same as the trashy underground clubs she’d snuck into as a high schooler with a fake ID from one of her friends. It was just sweaty people and booze, though the people in the clubs Marivana frequented at the behest of TWILIGHT wore outfits that cost more money than her parents had earned in a lifetime. And the booze was also considerably more expensive.

Speaking of expensive outfits, though; Marivana grimaced, just slightly, as she adjusted her gown, the edges of the jeweled bodice digging into her skin. No matter how many of these diamond-encrusted gowns her agency forced her into, Marivana would never be able to get used to all the jewels. Tolerate or ignore for a short period of time, maybe, but there was no way that she’d wear something like this every day. She felt a good hundred pounds heavier just sitting in one of them. That, plus the heavy diamonds dangling from her ears and the gigantic diamond headdress her stylists insisted was a must, meant that Marivana was considerably weighed down. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it was…annoying. Very much so.

The jeweled bodice in question was laden with more diamonds than Marivana could count, arranged in a way to make them look like artfully jagged shards of ice. Perhaps the most eye-catching part of the gown, however, were the sleeves; diamonds that had been cut and polished to look like icicles jutted out from the wide strip of fabric covering the tops of Marivana’s shoulders. Adding to the effect were the huge earrings bedazzled with crystals and diamonds and arranged to look like snowflakes. It made her pretty hard to miss - though there was also the matter of the headdress, of course. Marivana couldn’t wait to get that monstrosity out of her hair – both literally and figuratively.

Marivana let her gaze flit idly towards the other side of the room, past pyramids of glowing drinks and curved sofas and crystally curtains. Her publicist, Lanie, was chatting it up with one of the department heads at Galaxy Cosmetics. Figures. Marivana had GC to thank for the diamonds in her eyes; they probably wanted to have her come in for a promo event or something. And Marivana spotted a few of the managers from her agency, as well as from RISE and LAZER, scattered around the dais, sipping on drinks and making small talk with other people involved in the business.

She hadn’t, however, seen any racers yet (besides Sky and Ice) - not until her eyes landed on Nyx (whose real name was Sol) sauntering over to someone sitting not too far away from Marivana. Marivana took a brief moment to roll her eyes, just out of spite - Nyx’s whole image was just so annoying. It was always so loud and so in-your-face. Marivana was of the opinion that she saw quite enough of Nyx on the race track. She didn’t need to be seeing anything related to her off of it, too.

Nevertheless, Marivana glanced in the direction that Nyx was walking, her diamond-blue eyes following the black spikes that extended out from the sleeve of the other racer’s one-shoulder dress. The sight of one of the RISE racers (Flower, it had to be; neither Supernova nor Sunbeam would have ever been dressed in something so....girly? Holo-butterflies and all) gave Marivana pause. Nyx is going to talk to her? she wondered to herself, briefly. Her agency’s going to be pissed. Though it’s not like Nyx cares all that much about what her agency thinks, anyway.

Just then, Lanie popped up, almost out of nowhere, positively giddy about....something. She took a moment to flip her glittery golden locks over her shoulder before looking Marivana in the eye.

“Marivana.”

Marivana raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Yes?”

“Guess who just booked you the gig of a lifetime.”

Marivana shook her head, unable to stop herself from letting out an amused huff. “Stars above, Lanie, you say that every damn time. Of course it was you. And I don’t think you can have three hundred `gigs of a lifetime`, for your information.”

Lanie waved her off. “Semantics. Anyway, do you want to know what this thing is or not?”

“If it involves me interacting with people, then no.”

Lanie rolled her eyes but forged on. “Oh, shush.” She lowered her voice, casting a furtive glance at their surroundings, before continuing, her eyes bright. “The marketing department at Galaxy Cosmetics - the Galaxy Cosmetics -”

Marivana snorted. “Lanie, I know what GC is. Or did you forget that I was the one being operated on when they put in the diamonds?”

Lanie rolled her eyes, again. “Stop interrupting me. Anyway, GC wants you over for an ad, sometime in November.”

“And you agreed to it? Lanie, you know how busy November is. The IW Circuit starts in December? You remember that, right?”

“That’s why I arranged for it to be at the beginning of the month. It’ll be your last ad of the year.”

Marivana nodded. “I see. Vanya and the others still trying to earn their money back from the diamonds?”

Lanie flipped her hair over her shoulder again, already typing away at her holo-pad. “You know how expensive that procedure was, Marivana, even with the deal that Vanya cut with the execs over at GC. They want to squeeze all the money they can get out of it. Thank gods for the sponsorship stuff, though.”

“Mm.” Marivana went quiet as Lanie started talking into her earpiece. Her eyes wandered around the room again, just in time to see Nyx walking away from Flower.

“...anyway, it’s all in the process of being booked, and everything will be finalized within the next week or so,” said Lanie, and Marivana brought her attention back to her publicist. “And now I...ooh. And now, I have to go.”

Marivana glanced at the entrance of the club, where the CEO of Equa Industries - AKA one of the premier manufacturers of robot unicorns - had just walked in. Marivana arched an eyebrow, amused, at Lanie’s reaction. “Goodness gracious, Lanie. Most people react that way when they see someone attractive. You react that way to corporate executives.”

Lanie snorted derisively, flipped her hair a final time. “Well, I’m not ‘most people’. You, for that matter, aren’t either.” She winked, and stood up. “I’m about to book you the gig of a lifetime, Snow Queen. And after that’s done, I’ll get you a drink to celebrate.”

“That’s the three hundredth and first ‘gig of a lifetime’ to date,” Marivana called out as Lanie strode away, smiling despite herself.

Marivana found that Lanie always put her in good spirits. Although the others at TWILIGHT certainly didn’t appreciate Lanie’s bluntness (“She’s so Lava World,” one of the other publicists had complained), Marivana liked how honest Lanie was. Her publicist had no patience for superficial artifice, and Marivana was glad. Gods knew that there was already plenty of that in the RUR industry.

And besides, Marivana rather liked Lanie’s dry wit and scathing sarcasm.

After Lanie drifted off to sweet talk the CEO of Equa Industries, Marivana decided that a change in scenery was in order. She stood up, with more than just a little difficulty, considering how fucking heavy all the diamonds were, and skirted along the edge of the crowd towards the crystally curtains that she'd noted earlier.

Marivana had just arrived when she caught the tail end of the most disgusting "pick-up line" (could it be called a pick-up line if it was more like straight-up harassment?) she had heard in a while. The recipient of the crude remark was none other than Flower herself, RISE's newest addition to their team.

Marivana rolled her eyes and strode purposefully over to the man as he continued to be, quite frankly, a piece of shit. As she closed her hand over his shoulder, she realized that he was Aindrew Clenym, one of the creative directors with GC. She knew almost nothing about him, besides the fact that he was, uh, married.

Marivana pulled him away from Flower, perhaps with more force than strictly necessary, and adopted the icy Snow Queen expression that TWILIGHT had her wear for every promo and photoshoot that they did. She used two fingers to gingerly pinch at the fabric of his collar. "Hey, Aindrew," she said, feeling the sudden absurd urge to laugh out loud - if only Lanie could see how Ice Queen she sounded, right now. Her publicist would want to get the entire thing on tape and make it a new promo video, or something equally dramatic and ridiculous.

"How’s your wife?"

Aindrew rolled his eyes, snorted. Marivana nodded, glanced over at Flower-she seemed surprised, but otherwise unharmed-then turned back to Aindrew and narrowed her eyes. "You want to leave her alone?"

It took Aindrew a moment to meet her steely gaze, and when he did, Marivana almost rolled her eyes in his face. He was so drunk. “Listen, buddy, this diamond headdress weighs something like fifty pounds, and I’m more than capable of knocking you out with it if you want to try me. Leave.”

The man took one look at the massive headdress, decided against testing Marivana’s supposed strength with said headdress, and walked (more like stumbled, he was so drunk. And where the hell were his shoes?) away.

Once Aindrew was gone, Marivana sat down, slowly, beside Flower. She cast another glance at the Sky World racer, arching an eyebrow. “Your bodyguard goes on break and the wolves descend.”

“Thank you for that," said Flower, and Marivana let a faint smile ghost over her lips before laughing softly, adjusting the crystals and diamonds dangling from her ears.

“Of course. Hi there. I’m-”

“Snow- !” the other racer blurted out. “Oh my god, I know. I’m a huge fan of yours.”

Marivana was a bit taken aback by how....frank? the other girl was being, especially to someone she was technically going to be competing against, but she had to admit that it was also quite flattering, when other racers from the Big Three reacted like that to her.

“‘Marivana’, I was going to say- but thank you. Do you know Nyx well?” Marivana asked, letting her gaze float in the direction that Sol had walked off in.

“We’ve spoken before, years ago. Danced, also.”

“I see…" Marivana trailed off, focusing on Flower once again. "I’m sorry, your name has slipped my mind.”

"Flower."

Well, duh, Marivana thought to herself. “No, I-” Marivana paused to laugh, again, this time a bit wryly. “I know your nickname. I meant your actual name.”

“Oh- Aura. Aura Philyra.”

Aura. The name was quite pretty, as far as names went. And much better than a stupid nickname like 'Flower'.

Just then, Lanie came back over, appearing out of thin air to wink, hand her an icy blue drink, and saunter off again, without saying a single word. Huh. I guess she set it up with Equa Industries, then, Marivana mused to herself.

She took a dainty sip of the drink. "And where are you from?"

“Ice World.”

Ice World? Both of Marivana’s eyebrows shot up, an incredulous expression flitting across her face. “Really? You don’t strike me as someone from Ice World.”

“Oh. No?”

Marivana resisted the urge to let out a derisive snort. “No. I buy it as much as I buy the little fairy story your management made up for you.”

“Ah, well. I’m actually embarrassed now.”

Marivana shook her head. “Don’t be. Every racer has a gimmick," she replied, matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, but mine is...stupider than most. But at least the clothes are pretty.”

Marivana smiled, bemused. “They certainly are.” She paused, appraising the other racer. “So, you’ll be racing this week?”

She watched, intrigued, as Aura almost blurted something out, then settled for something different. “Yes. I can’t stop trembling. Everyone keeps telling me how important this race is- like I need to be told.”

Marivana’s lips twitched upwards into a small, sympathetic smile. She set her drink aside.

“Give me one of your hands?” she asked, and when Aura obliged, Marivana ran her fingers lightly over her palm, before clasping it in her own hand, briefly. “Powdered chalk. For your nerves. You’ll want a light coat of it over your hands, to keep them from getting clammy while holding onto your reins-”

Just then, Aura's tattooed security detail came back. Marivana took that as her cue to go. "I’ll see you soon, Aura. I’m sure,” she said, and strode past the bodyguard without so much as deigning to give him a second glance.

Marivana settled back into her original chair, and not two seconds later, Lanie was there.

"Marivana!" she hissed, glittery hair flashing in the dim lighting. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Marivana answered coolly, taking a sip of her drink.

Lanie scowled. "Don't give me that bullshit, Mari. What the hell were you guys talking about? I haven't seen you smile that much since the time you met my three-year-old niece."

Marivana hummed quietly, took another sip of her drink. "Does it matter?"

Lanie let out a huff. "Uh, yeah? One, I'm like, your only friend. And two, what the fuck am I going to tell the paparazzi when pics of you two being all buddy-buddy get out?"

"My god, Lanie, you're so dramatic. Calm down. All I did was get Aindrew to stop bothering her."

Lanie made a face. "Aindrew from GC? Ew. Just, ew."

Marivana nodded solemnly. "My point exactly."

Lanie crossed her arms and gave Marivana a scathing glare. "You still haven't answered my question, Marivana. Why were you all smiley? You're the Ice Queen, for crying out loud! You can't just randomly smile."

Marivana met her gaze, evenly. "I hope you know how ridiculous that sentence sounds," she said in response. Marivana contemplated Lanie's question - why had she done...that?

"She kind of reminded me of Shimmer," Marivana found herself saying, unsure of what exactly had prompted her to act so un-Snow around Aura.

"Your first unicorn?" Lanie asked, skeptically.

"Yeah. She was always skittish before a big race."

Lanie gave Marivana a look. "You do realize that the unicorns are, uh, robots, right? They don't feel anything."

Marivana bit back an indignant reply. Yes they do, she wanted to say. Marivana grew up riding robot horses; wouldn't she, of all people, know if a horse (or a unicorn, for that matter) could feel anything? But saying something like that was more than just a little bit dangerous, around all these people who profited off the assumption that robot unicorns were just as Lanie said - robots. Machines.

So Marivana sighed, sipped at her drink. "Right." She paused, for a moment, then changed the subject, hoping that Lanie would be willing to start blabbing about her niece, again. "So, you never told me how Ruby has been doing. It's been years since I've seen her. What's she up to?"

Thankfully, Lanie was all too capable of going on and on and on about any subject in the universe. Her baby niece included.

Taglist: @ayzrules @bebemoon @jay-swagsby @filthysoulls @shiftyprincess@kzombi3 @now-on-elissastillstands @interluxetumbra

#ch 1 #writing #aliciasssss #marivana #snow #mari story #ch1

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fairycosmos · 5 years

Note

hey i’m super sry 2 bother ive just been struggling and i know u understand how i feel..i’ve never been this bad in my life. i feel so stupid agonizing over smth like my physical appearance but my reflection genuinely makes me nauseous and throws me into a breakdown each time i see it. i cant help but feel like id much rather kill myself than spend the rest of my miserable existence being so revolting and grotesque. i hate being conventionally unattrctive- going out in public is just the worst:(

hey angellll i'm sorry 2 hear you're dealing w this rn. you're not bothering me either, it's cool. :(( also i got your other anon and don't worry, i didn't think you were calling me ugly djekdkekk,, but i mean i AM lol. and i can definitely relate to feeling viscerally disgusting in your own skin......you're not over exaggerating, i promise. you are always going to have the right to feel a certain way about something that seems to dictate so much of your life. countless women are going through it. i struggle with this every single day myself and i honestly don't have all of the answers of even half of them, unfortunately. and sometimes nothing can calm me down from the shame i feel about being who i am, but here are a few thoughts/ideas that soothe me and may soothe you if you allow them to:

1. our perception of beauty is always being manipulated. they keep moving the goal posts and narrowing the standards to get us to chase these totally false ideals, purely because it makes money. that's it. they plant the insecurity, market a fake 'solution', and profit. when we look in the mirror a life time of conditioning looks back at us and the only way to get around it is to be consistently aware of that fact. once you begin examining and questioning why certain features are seen as attractive and others aren't, you realize that none of it really holds any ground. it has very little to do with our bodies, and everything to do with controlling them. it's all the result of a never ending advertisment, and engaging with it for too long is certainly going to exhaust you and fuck up your self perception. the way you see yourself is not as accurate as you think.

2. we are all going to be old and therefore conventionally unattractive someday any way. a defining factor of this game they force us to play is that we will never win. due to circumstance, or time, or just cause we're human. seems like for women we're not allowed to reach a day over 40 without being ridiculed for it. but i really do believe that getting older affords a certain amount of freedom. when you get to that point in your life, you're going to know yourself so much more than you do at the moment. your perspective WILL be different. you're not going to be basing your worth off of how you look because you'll have lived what you're capable of, and it's so much more than.......appearing a certain way for a moment in time. curating a life worth living pales in comparison to looking flawless. and i know it seems like you can't do that because you feel so gross, but you can - insecurity doesn't have to stop you from putting your best foot forward. you are worthy because you're here. you deserve to live because you are alive. at the end of the day, you don't have to like yourself, but you have to like BEING yourself. you have to learn how to enjoy your hobbies and opportunities more than you hate your skin or your face or whatever.

3. your body is here to experience and relate with the tangible world. it is the vessel with which you are able to walk, talk, love, eat, play, and enjoy. it is very very unconcerned with being palatable to the masses. ultimately, that is not what you exist for. it always comes back to that, no matter how much the world demands a performance of you - you don't have to give one. even if the so called audience doesn't like it. it takes time to truly accept that, i still can't. but working on neutralising the self is key. if you can't love yourself, just acknowledge yourself. these are my hands that allow me to create. these are my eyes that allow me to see. they are doing their job. they are okay. they can't be right or wrong. they just are.

4. self destructive thoughts are always over dramatic, always temporary, and often entirely untrue. it's ok to experience those urges, but do your best to find the line between having them and acting on them. it's alright if it takes a while to learn how. as long as you're attempting. that's all that matters.

5. try to consciously practice healthier thinking patterns on a daily basis. realistically consider how you judge others and why you're being so harsh on yourself when you would never act like that towards anyone else. understand that your energy, your presence, the way you smile and comfort and work, what you can give and receive - all of that is more important to pretty much everyone, than how you look. after a while, especially when you love or care for someone, their appearance becomes a total secondary characteristic. nobody is worrying that much over these self perceived flaws you're so stuck on, as much as you are. if they do take the time to mull on you, it's more likely they think something simplistic such as: oh there's that girl who lent me her homework or who always wears cool shirts, or whatever. they're too busy stressing about themselves.

6. attempt to build your own confidence. this is another thing i can't grasp either but. basically. you are going to be you for the rest of your life and that is a fact. the only realize you think it's a bad thing at the moment is because that's how you've been taught to feel. but you can unlearn, you can let go of what hurts. and that starts with accepting what you can't change and controlling what you can - your self esteem, your internal narrative, how you take care of your body and mind. even engaging in small, seemingly dumb exercises like pointing out three things you like about yourself in the mirror, can make a difference. you have all of the time in the world to learn how to be friends with yourself. but you might as well start now. baby steps are good. if you hide, spend half an hour outside, even once a week. get used to the discomfort. treat yourself. let it all contradict. growth is totally inevitable.

unfortunately, there's no all encompassing answer. you can know all of this logically and still feel Bad. and you're obviously allowed to be frustrated, to cry and break down, to have moments where you just feel entirely overwhelmed with self hatred - i can't figure out how to stop them, and i think they will remain with us for a while. maybe the goal is to just to cope with them in a decent way and not to prevent them all together. but those episodes are not an excuse to take your own life, ever. i can't think of a bigger fucking tragedy than the world losing you before you even had the chance to attempt living by an alternative narrative. you deserve so much better. i can't stress it enough. you have a whole open future just waiting for you, a healthy body to see it all with - it's going to be beautiful, it's going to surprise you even when you think you're a totally hopeless case. you're not. that's just another lie. your humanity is never going to depend on your physicality and anyone who can't accept that can fuck off!!! anyway i hope you know that there are genuinely so many resources available if you feel like this is getting Too much to handle by yourself. you're honestly not alone and if this is having a big impact on your overall stability then you're totally entitled to professional or medical support. it doesn't have to be a big deal. suicidal thoughts are not normal and there are people who will enable you to dissect and overcome them, you just have to make the initial choice to reach out. even if your brain is screaming otherwise. whether it's through school or a hotline or your doctor - communication WILL put your pain in perspective eventually, in turn lessening it. please consider it. even if takes you your whole lifetime to appreciate yourself, the fact that you're here and trying and navigating this shitty world is more than good enough. i'll be rooting for you from a place of total understanding until the end of time. please take and let me know if you need a friend. i'll be here.

*sorry if this didn't help. the other day i was having an Episode and nothing anyone said could've changed how absolutely disgusting i felt. sometimes it's like that. but this will always be here for you to look back on when you're in a more fair and objective state of mind.

#long post #tw suicide #im sorryyyyy this is so long and messy but u get my gist. ladies we r consumed by the world regardless might as well let them choke #anon

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gaycrouton · 6 years

Note

I’d love to see 3 from the prompt list!

I’m moving through my prompts sporadically, but know I’m getting to them all! Here’s #3, “This isn’t what it looks like.”

Scully had honestly probably seen more evidence of aliens than she had seen Mulder voluntarily take a vacation in all seven years of being his partner. Because of this, as soon as he asked if she could feed his fish and grab his mail while he was away, she was more than willing to help him out. He deserved it.

And a vacation for him meant a vacation for her.

Apparently there was some sort of rock and roll laser show a few towns over and he wanted to take the weekend and go see it. The details were lost on her through his unrestrained enthusiasm. It’s heavy metal and a light show combined, Scully. Come on it’s every boy’s fantasy. He’d valiantly tried to convince her to come along, sparing her from missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime, but she declined regardless. It was going to be a weekend of reading, rest, and relaxation.

Or so she intended. After a few hours of solitude on Friday, that pesky feeling she’d been trying to dampen down for months came back. She missed him. She liked to blame it on being attached to his side for years that made her sentimental at his absence, but she knew it was more. No matter how much that scared her.

She knew she wouldn’t have to deal with this much longer though, as she slipped her key into his lock, she reveled at the fact it would be the last time. It was finally Sunday, and he said he would be coming back later in the evening. Scully let herself in, closed the door behind her, and tossed the keys onto an end table. There was always something comforting about Mulder’s apartment. She presumed it was because it was filled with his personal belongings, his scent, and their personal memories. It made her feel close to him. She couldn’t remember when that started being so important to her. As she did her little chores, she wanted to help clean just a little to be nice, so she turned on his sound system and listened to the Led Zepplin CD he had in for background noise.

She fed the fish and took a good look at the apartment. It was cozy, she was honestly surprised Mulder, the man of a thousand gaudy neckties, was able to put this all together to be so welcoming. She’d spent plenty of time here through the years, but it was weird having full domain over the place. She’d been in a hurry the past two days, a date with her mother and a pap smear respectively made her rush, but today she’d just gotten out of church and had all the time in the world.

She bit her lip as she looked down the hallway leading to his bedroom. It was the one room of the house she hadn’t fully been in and her curiosity was burning. She’d seen glimpses of it, they’d joked about its lack of a bed, but she wanted to see it for herself. The part of her that was slightly hesitant started to melt away when she recalled all the times he’d been in her’s throughout the years. Fair is fair.

She strode down the hall and pushed the wooden door open to reveal a normal looking bedroom. Liar. There was a rather large bed in the middle of the room with a mirror over top of it. She wandered in a bit farther and was met with an extremely concentrated waft of Mulder. Based on that and the clothes intermittently strewn around the room, she’d say he actually spent a lot of time there.

There was a vanity in front of the bed that also had a rather large mirror that she stopped in front of. It was odd, seeing her in Mulder’s room, in front of Mulder’s bed. She wished he was here and that he’d invited her into this sacred space. She caught sight of one of his dress shirts laying haphazardly on the bed and she turned around to fully look at it. It was slightly wrinkled and if she had to guess, it was the shirt he wore to the office last time she saw him before he took off. She picked it up and pressed it to her face, inhaling his lingering fragrance on the fabric.

As it was pressed to her face, she felt the tail end of the hem flapping against the skin of her thighs. She turned around and noticed how big the shirt was pressed against her body. Just from the sight alone, she was struck with an intense desire to put it on. There was something about wearing a man’s shirt that was highly erotic to her. Maybe it was seeing physically how much larger he was than herself, maybe it was being engulfed in their clothes, maybe it was because it was just plain hot seeing herself that way. Whatever it may be, it lead her to setting down the shirt and taking her sundress off over her head, placing it on the bed instead. She hadn’t been wearing a bra under the dress since it was so tight and it just added to the sensuality of the situation. Even though it was ridiculous, she found herself checking the door to make sure he wasn’t unexpectedly home, but the only sounds coming from the apartment was an ambient Stairway to Heaven.

Clad in some black underwear and black, thigh-high nylons she was forced to wear because she hadn’t done her laundry, she grabbed the shirt again in excited anticipation. It was already unbuttoned, so she slipped one arm in a sleeve and her other in the next. She turned around to look at herself in the mirror as she buttoned it up. Scully felt herself getting wet as the same fabric that covered Mulder’s chest was grazing against her bare breasts, her nipples hardened peaks against the thin material.

The shirt went down to right above her knees and she was entranced as she watched herself button each clasp shut, just like Mulder had done countless times before her. She only buttoned it up to inbetween the valley of her breast, enjoying the way her creamy collarbones peaked through the opening. She looked at herself in the mirror and indulged in the fantasy she’d created for herself. Would she wear this after making love with Mulder? Would it turn him on to see her wearing his clothes? Would it turn him on so much that he’d fuck her while she was still wearing them?

She silently chastised herself for a moment for being so eager that she didn’t remember how it had been initially on the bed, but then again, Mulder probably wouldn’t think anything of it if the shirt was moved.

She returned her gaze to the mirror and tousled her hair a bit. She was firmly an independent woman, but something about seeing her in his shirt set off something primal in her. It made her feel like she was his and it made her gut coil in arousal at the mere thought. She was his, if only he knew.

Taking a few steps back, she lifted the hem of his shirt so that her underwear were exposed and she could see the inches of upper thigh revealed over the tops of the thigh-highs. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was narcissistic to get turned on looking at oneself, but she decided to blame it on the fantasy of being fucked by Mulder playing in her head instead.

She ended up backing up a little too far and the backs of her legs his the bed and she fell onto her back, immediately met with the sight of herself overhead. This is what Mulder would see if he tossed her on the bed and climbed over her. She crawled up the bed a little so that she was in the middle, her head resting on pillows that made her feel like she pressed her face against Mulder’s hair.

Looking up at herself, she felt sexier than she could ever remember being. She bent her legs so that the pads of her feet were flat on the bed. She raised her hips and lifted the shirt up just a little so that her underwear were visible. Watching herself, she played with the elastic band of her panties, just a little before running the palms of her hands up her body, over the shirt, coming to a resting place over top of her breasts, which she firmly squeezed. A small moan left her lips and she bit her bottom lip to keep herself quiet.

She let her hands lower back down, trailing over her ribs and feeling the heat of her skin through the fabric. Her breath was quickening and she locked into her own gaze in the mirror hungrily, feeling empowered and aroused at the sight of herself in Mulder’s shirt. She got to her exposed midriff and felt the rise and fall of her stomach. She continued playing with the hem of her panties, which were no doubt soaked now. It felt taboo to touch herself on his bed, in his shirt, while thinking of him, but as her fingers dipped below the band and came in contact with her aching core, she didn’t care.

She gasped lightly and let her head fall to the side so she could breath into the pillow next to her and get a better sense of him. She pressed her middle finger onto her clit and she swore she could feel her heartbeat. Scully’s back arched off the bed and a low moan reverberated off the walls of the room.

A moan too low.

Her eyes shot open and she sat upright to see Mulder standing in the doorway, mouth gape and eyes trained on her. Her stomach dropped in mortification and she reached one hand up to clutch the shirt closed as her legs clenched together in a lame attempt at modesty. It felt like time stopped as they just stared at each other. She waited for him to tease her, maybe even berate her, but it didn’t come. Instead she was given a look of pure, intense focus. Overwhelmingly so, that she broke the silence, “T-this isn’t what it looks like.” She was irritated at the choked, throaty way her voice came out.

“What do you think it looks like?” he asked, not taking his eyes off her, especially not leaving the parts of her body covered by the shirt.

She felt her cheeks flame up in embarrassment and she knew he knew exactly what it looked like. What it was. “I can just go. I’m sorry,” she rambled. She slid off the side of the bed and tried to ignore the way her sex was still throbbing.

She grabbed her sundress and tried to make a beeline to the bathroom, but he grabbed her forearm lightly. “Wait.” He didn’t seem angry or disgusted, so she chanced a look over to him, only to see curiosity and lust reflected back at her. It took her breath away.

The shame of being caught red-handed still weighed on her, but his gaze cemented her to the floor. “I just wanted to try on your shirt,” she whispered lamely.

“Why?”

“I-I just wanted to see how big it would be on me, that’s all,” and imagine it was wearing it after a sexual tryst with him.

His eyes raked over her and it felt like an eternity, like he was memorizing every way the shirt fluttered over her body. “And you liked the way it looked so much you crawled into my bed and started touching yourself?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, but it had enough actual questioning in it to let her know she wasn’t going to be able to pretend like it didn’t happen.

The air was thick with tension and she was still having a hard time reading him. She decided to just go with a safe, and honest, “I’m sorry.” She couldn’t look him in the face because she was so embarrassed and because she knew her face was flaming red. Also because a part of her wanted to cry.

The hand not lightly resting on her forearm came up to tilt her chin towards him. This time she saw the look of a lion staring at a lamb, “Why are you sorry?”

Was this a game of twenty fucking questions? “Because you trusted me with your apartment and then I violated your privacy. Mulder, really, I’m sorry. I crossed a line.” She was still turned on from before, and the way his hands felt on her really wasn’t helping. In fact, she felt another gush of arousal seep through her lips, saturating her panties. If she moved she was afraid he’d be able to smell it in the air.

He took a step towards her and she took in a sharp breath. “You didn’t do anything I haven’t dreamed of you doing.” Scully felt her heart stop and she noticed how dilated Mulder’s pupils were. “To be frank, you just fulfilled one of my biggest fantasies, more than one actually,” he whispered, taking another appreciative glance of her body. Then he took a step back, letting her go, and her body almost lurched at him, craving his touch. “But if all it was for you was admiring the shirt, well then, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by admitting how much it turned me on seeing you like that.”

Her breath quickened and her heart was racing. He just admitted to being turned on. By her. She took a glance down and noticed something she hadn’t before. He was hard. Very hard. Her gaze must’ve lingered a second too long because his voice broke the tension again, with a slightly amused tone this time. “But, it was more than just the shirt. Wasn’t it.”

She just looked at him through hooded lids and nodded. He took a step closer to her and reached a hand out to cup her cheek in the palm of his hand, letting his thumb stroke her skin as he spoke. “We have two options. Option one is that you ask me to give you privacy, I wait in the living room for you to change, you leave, and I’ll never bring this up ever again.” As always, he was giving her an out. A life preserver in the sea she threw herself into. “Or, you ask me to stay and we can continue whatever fantasy it was you were playing in your mind when you decided to touch yourself in my room.” If her heart started beating any faster she swore she might have a heart attack. They’d never spoken their desire out into existence before. No hiding behind a joke, no passing comment, no speculation. This was a real offer, and he was staring her in the face trying to gauge if she’d keep them stagnant or if she’d finally allow them to do what they’ve always wanted.

He took a step closer so that she could feel his body heat radiating off of him, his face leaning down over hers. “But just know that whatever option you choose, I will never forget what I just saw.”

She licked her lips nervously and caught how he focused in on the motion. She knew the option she both wanted her to choose. There really was no competition, one would satisfy them both, the other would just create another layer of sexual tension. She didn’t need to make an x-file out of their relationship. She looked up and him and realized, from the melancholy understanding of his face, he assumed she was going to tell him to go into the living room. She decided to demonstrate her answer to him. They’d said enough already.

Leaning up on her toes, she pressed her mouth to his in a feverous kiss, throwing her arms around him to keep her balance. He was shocked at the suddenness of her movement and he gasped, giving her space to let her tongue enter his mouth. As soon as her tongue glided over his, he came to his senses and returned her ministrations with equal passion and vigor, grabbing her hips in his hands and bringing her body flush to his. Immediately she felt his erection press into her and it made the burning in her lower belly rise to a new intensity.

He took a step forward and it sent her tumbling back on the bed, much like earlier. It caused their kiss to break as she laid panting, watching him above her. He licked his lips as he watched her and it almost made her hips buck involuntarily. He grabbed her from under her armpits and drug her up he bed so that he could join her. He had one knee pressed into her sex as he leaned over her, watching her with unrepentant fascination. She squirmed her body against his knee, desperate to be touched, and he looked like it was the best thing to ever happen to him. As if he was still incredulous that he turned her on.

She clenched her thighs around his leg and continued her gyrations. “I was thinking about you,” she stated, her voice coming out as a breathy, quivering whisper. He pressed his knee farther up and she let out a moan, encouraged by her reaction, he started pressing against her slightly. The shirt had risen up so it was restig around her waist, so her underwear were on full display as she rubbed against him.

He pressed his mouth to hers once more and she felt his shaky breath flutter across her cheek as he exhaled through his nose. She felt the tent of his pants hit the top of her thigh and, invigorated by his reaction to her, she eased a hand down in between them and cupped him fully, giving him a firm squeeze through the fabric so he knew it was intentional.

His precision with the kiss faltered as he moaned into her mouth and she devoured it into her own, licking, lapping, and nipping at his lips, then his jaw, then his neck.

She felt him reach up and start undoing the buttons of his shirt she wore, kissing each expanse of new skin revealed. Once the last button was undone, he let the flaps fall to the side, but neither of them made any attempt to take it off fully. She was glad to know he was as turned on by it as she was. Instead, he latched his hungry mouth onto her nipple and started suckling, occasonally running his teeth lightly over the rose peak as his other hand kneaded the other breast, switching intermittently.

She could feel his hot breaths come out in pants over her wet skin and it just added to her arousal. After a few minutes, she was a whimpering, quivering mess and she wanted him inside her more than anything. “M-muhlder,” she moaned out, trying to get his attention.

He let go of her nipple with a suctioned pop and looked at her, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wild with desire. “Hmm?”

“I want you,” she requested quietly, thrusting her hips against him to make her point clear.

He didn’t need to be asked twice. He moved away from her and she missed his heat immediately, but she enjoyed getting to watch him whip off his shirt and unbuckle his belt, freeing himself quickly until he was bare and naked in front of her, his cock bobbing and leaking in the air, desperate for her attention.

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of her underwear and looked at her for permission to take them off. She lifted her hips off the bed as an answer and he slid the thin, soaked fabric down her legs, her scent immediately filling the air. He tossed them in his pile of clothes and moved up her body, but he didn’t come up the whole way. Before she could ask what he was doing he pressed his mouth onto her arousal and she felt the personification of heaven.

He hooked his arms around her thighs, keeping her in place as he ate her, his tongue diving and curing into her before he’d swirl around her clit. She looked down at him from in between her legs and was mesmerized at the look of serene contentment adorning his face. His eyes were closed as his jaw worked magic. She threw her head back with one extremely well placed flick of the tongue and watched them in the mirror above them. She could see his back muscles flex and she saw he was lightly humping the mattress as he made love to her with his tongue. It might very well be the hottest thing she’d ever seen, him getting so much pleasure out of giving it to her.

She looked farther up and made eye contact with herself, her breasts were rosy red from his attention and her eyes were glassy from arousal. She felt herself undulating her hips, riding Mulder’s face and for a second she worried he couldn’t breathe, but then he moaned against her and all coherent thought left her mind.

The vibrations travelled into her and pushed her over the edge, she felt her legs tense as her lungs gulped for air. Her hands came down to entangle themselves in Mulder’s hair. She rocked her hips against his face and he helped her ride out her intense orgasm until her legs were actually shaking on his shoulders.

When it had passed over her, she felt like gelatin, all limbs haphazardly strewn on the bed. Mulder gently placed her legs back down as he crawled up her body once more. He kissed her and she wrapped her arms around his neck as she tasted herself on his swollen, talented lips.

At the same time, she felt the head of his cock brush against his opening and he gasped. She opened her eyes and saw him looking down at her with pure adoration. He rocked his hips against her a little more, not so that he plunged into her, but so that his tip parted up and down her lips. “Is this okay?” he asked, trying to read her face for any signs of discomfort.

Maybe it was the euphoric bliss she was feeling mixed with her anticipation of this inevitable union, but she decided to be frankly honest. “Mulder, I love you. I want to be with you. Please.” She whispered, lifting her hand to stroke his cheek fondly and move the strands of hair that were falling into his eyes.

A proud, disbelieving, and grateful smile broke out across his face and she didn’t think it was possible to love him anymore than she did in this moment. He bent down and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to her lips before drawing back, “I love you too, Scully.”

She beamed back at him before her mouth fell open from the overwhelming sensation of him gliding into her. She was so aroused that he just fit perfectly. She felt so unbelievably, so overwhelmingly full, stretched in the best way possible. Her eyes focused and she saw Mulder biting his lip in restrain before asking, “Am I hurting you?” His question came out in a strained gasp and her heart ached with how gentle and thoughtful he was being with her.

“You feel so good.” She lifted her legs up and interlocked them on his lower back, letting him slide impossibly deeper in. She started thrusting her hips against his and he took the hint, bucking in and out of her heat with more intensity.

She couldn’t believe it. This was actually Mulder. Inside her, filling her, loving her, touching her, for once it wasn’t just her hands masquerading as his. This was real, and it felt better than she could have ever imagined. She was torn between all the visual stimulation. She liked looking at them in the mirror, an omnipotent view of their union. She liked looking in between them and seeing his, impressively large, erection disappearing inside of her, seeing the way her body clung to him. She liked looking at his face, the way his jaw was set and his brow was furrowed, completely overtaken by passion.

As she was looking at his face, she saw him bring one hand to his mouth and lick his fingers. Before she had much of a chance to question it, he dropped the hand down and started circling the digits against her throbbing clit. She let out a loud moan as her eyes practically rolled to the back of her head. “That’s it, Scully,” he moaned, his eyes trained on her heaving form.

He started timing his thrust and his fingers movements so they’d be in tandem and it was too much to bear. She didn’t even have a chance to announce it before her second orgasm ripped through her. “Oh god, fuck Mulder,” she whimpered as her walls clenched around him and her fingernails dug into his shoulders.

“Scully-” he moaned, dragging out the last syllable of her name as the pleasure became too much and he joined her over the edge. He thrust into her hard a few times before diving in her to the hilt, rotating his hips to drag out both their pleasures.

They quivered and quaked against each other’s sweaty bodies for a few moments before he collapsed at her side and tried to regain his breath. She too was heaving as she turned on her side to look at him. He was beautiful, and analyzing her in the same manner, a sated smile gracing his lips.

“The shirt looks a lot better on you by the way.”

#msr smut #msr fanfiction #msr prompt #x files prompt #x files fanfic #xf fanfiction #my fanfiction #msr #gaycrouton #onlytheinevitable #dana scully #fox mulder #fanfiction smut

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stroni-bomb · 6 years

Text

To Murder A Family

You hadn't meant for it to happen, you hadn't meant to disobey this badly. Your pack was right about you, one day your own rebellion would really be the end of them all.

OC Mingcheng's Backstory - Fairy!Jaehyun's Mate.

-Stroni-

⁎ *⁎°؂✶

You begrudgingly followed your mother and father, Alpha and Luna of your pack. They were on the move again to find a new home, only leaving intervals as small as one hour for everyone to rest before trekking off once again.

"Cheer up, you look like a skunk just sprayed your clean coat. Though that's your normal face nowadays it seems," Tao, your older brother and next in line to be Alpha, cackled beside you in pack link.

You snapped your jaw rather aggressively yet somewhat playful at him. "Shut it, I've got no patience for your games."

Tao grumbled beside you, deciding to pick up the pace and walk alongside your parents. Good riddens, you glared at him from behind, he was always trying to play favourite, not just with your parents either but with the whole pack that followed diligently behind your family. Suck ups, the lot of you- was what you wanted to say in your connected minds, but instead carried on walking, each paw getting more and more sore with each step.

⁎ *⁎°؂✶

"We are stopping here," your mother announced, her yellow eyes turned to face the pack whom had stopped dead in their tracks. "Your Alpha and my son have gone to survey the area. Feel free to shift, we may be staying here for a while."

Everyone seemed to sigh in unison, the instant cracking of bones filling the air. It didn't seem awkward anymore, seeing the whole pack naked. It had happened in so many occasions you were sure you'd be able to identify everyone simply by looking at their belly buttons.

As everyone stretched out their human form you decided to stay as a wolf and have a look around.

"Y/N!" Your mother barked after you, her too in her human form. Your tail instantly sagged, so much for exploring. "Where are you going? Ladies should-"

"Stay and look elegant so the pack feel reassured blah blah blah I get it," you snapped, slumping down onto the floor deciding your pelt was in need of a clean.

"That's not how a lady should cleanse herself," She scolded once again, a disgusted look plastered on her face. Not being able to think of a good comeback in time you simply stuck your tongue out, lifting your top lip as if to pull a silly face in wolf form.

"You're so childish! There's just no talking to you anymore!" She yelled, storming off towards the family of the Betas, second in command.

Laughing to yourself you watched her leave as she vented, presumably about you. "You shouldn't wind your mother up like that daughter," a deep voice said behind you, it was your father who, thankfully, was in wolf form.

"She started it; a lady should do this, a lady should do that, how about a lady does whatever the hell she wants?" Your father gently shook his head then walked towards the trees, signalling for you to follow suite.

You gladly got up, knowing you was in for a more educational lecture, one that didn't end with telling you what to do or how to live your life. Your father was the best in terms that he didn't judge you, he didn't have crazy expectations and he actually treated you ...like a daughter.

For a while he hadn't said anything, allowing you to follow close by his side, something your mother would never allow you to do.

"Y/N," he addressed you with your name, something you weren't used to as 'daughter', 'wife' and 'son' were how he always called his family by. "sometimes I worry for you, maybe I shouldn't. But the way you live, how you do things, do you think they're beneficial to the pack?"

You stood frozen in place. Your heart seemingly stopped beating and your tail immediately drooped between your legs. This didn't sound like father, this sounded like mother, literally anything but father.

"I know I'm not one to tell you what to do but, some things you know you have to, right? To save yourself, to save the lives of your family and the pack-"

"What exactly are you on about? You see me as a threat?" You couldn't help but interrupt, his words sending you over the edge. He suddenly stopped also, looking back at you sympathetically then turning to look at something in front of him. Reluctantly you moved forward, seeing the most beautiful lake you had possibly ever seen in your lifetime.

"It's not that your a threat Y/N. You just have tendencies to disobey even the most important of rules," he paused, looking somewhat thoughtful as his perked ears moved in the wind. "This lake, although beautiful, is cursed. I can smell it, nothing but bad news. Just- don't drink from it okay? That's all."

How could something so pretty be such a threat? You called it as bullshit, assuming it was another of the stupid tests your mother would put your father under to see if you'd do as you're told in an extreme situation. You weren't stupid. You'd already decided to give the lake a visit later to have a sip but in the mean time you gave your father a sure 'yes alpha' before racing him back to the others.

As the last wer finally fell asleep you silently tracked out the path you had walked earlier, following the fading scents until reaching the glistening water. It didn't have a particular scent that screamed 'this lake is cursed'. Even if there was, had your father really thought you were stupid enough to drink from a random lake? The fact that he thought you did only made you want to drink from it more, so here you are.

Without hesitation you lowered your front legs to make it easier for your tongue to reach the water. As soon as your tongue touched the cool liquid your wolf seemed to scream out to you, shouting at you to shift as soon as possible.

"Shut up wolf," you scowled, knowing it was only psychological. "Don't listen to what my dad has to sa-" it hit you all at once though. The feeling of skin stretching, bones growing ten times the size they should be, all whilst you were still a wolf. The pain was excruciating, nothing like you had ever felt before. The scariest thing was, you had no control over yourself anymore. As the floor got further and further away you cried out for everything to just stop but you couldn't. When it eventually halted you were no longer the slightly larger than average wolf, instead you were a beast, one so tall and bulky you could barely recognise your own pelt that covered its body.

A sudden burst of anger had shot through you; flashbacks of everytime you had been ridiculed as a child, disregarded by your parents and even your brother, it surged through you like a toxic drug. Until eventually, you had come to the conclusion of...who ever said you couldn't choose your family? Choose your pack? They didn't create the rules, no no you did, and it was time for a change... your new rule? Well it was simple:

If they've hurt you...kill them.

"And that's what I did," you finished your story to Jaehyun, who laid silently in bed next to you, playing with your hair and grasping your hand whenever your voice had broken.

"You weren't you in that moment," he soothed, finally deeming it appropriate to change your mood to a calmer one. It would've been wrong to have done it before, you wanted to tell him about your past in detail, emotions and everything. "Plus, you still have Tao."

You sighed, not sure if it was relief or frustration. Turning to face Jaehyun you cautiously wrapped your arms around him, taking in his scent as you shuffled closer to his body, snuggling your face into his collarbone. It was unlike you to initiate skinship, usually leaving it to Jaehyun whenever he felt like you weren't going to bite his head off. Dealing with your numerous mood swings was something you really had to commemorate to him, his patience really was immaculate.

His light chuckle gently blew the top of your hair as his arms found their way around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest. He placed a soft kiss to the top of your head, hugging you even tighter, it was amazing to him to have you here, you've been through a lot and after everything to still want to be by his side, it made him more than ecstatic.

"Hyunie...do you like Hyunie?" Acting cute wasn't really something you were known for either, at all, but in rare instances where you were both tired and seemingly under Jaehyun's 'spell' you couldn't help it.

"Hyunie?" He paused to think, not about the name of course, just about how adorable you were being. "I love it."

"Just like I love you," you didn't even have to think as the words just naturally slipped out of your mouth. You had never openly said 'I love you' before, Jaehyun had countless times but for you love was more if an expression of actions rather than words. This time though it was necessary.

"Y-you what?" He asked shocked, not believing that he'd heard you correctly.

"You know what I said doofus don't make me repeat myself," there's the Y/N that he was familiar with.

"I love you so much too Y/N," he cuddled you even tighter, resting his head on top of yours.

"Hyunie!" You pouted, looking up at him, his lips just a small gap from yours. "Why must you always one up me? You love hog."

He smirked as his eyes fell upon your lips, "love hog, huh?"

You lightly shook your head as your eyes seemed to naturally find their way to his lips as well. "You're unbelievable Jung Jaehyun."

"As are you Y/L/N Y/N, just more so."

"Again with the one upping?" Teasingly you bit the corner of your lip, snaking your arms from around his torso to loosely hanging across his shoulders and hooking around his neck. "Just kiss me already, we both know that's what you want."

He didn't hesitate, almost immediately closing the gap between the two of you and locking his lips in perfect unison with yours. It was passionate to say the least, he'd gently pull at the hem of your pyjama bottoms and you'd run your fingers through his hair, occasionally tugging at it lightly every now and then.

It wasn't unusual for you to end up pinned underneath Jaehyun's body as his hair flopped down, some strands sticking to his forehead where a few beads of sweat would roll down. Both of you naked, feeling nothing but love and acceptance radiating from each other, strong feelings showing clearly for the other. You were sure, no, you were absolutely certain that what you had with Jaehyun, that's what is commonly known as... forever.

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why-this-kolaveri-machi · 6 years

Text

Fic: here and now

titans fic! ... hey. stop looking at me like that.

Summary: Dick Grayson is jaded and doubting and frequently oblivious, but he is Trying His Best.

aka: the team that cuddles together, stays together.

Warnings: SPOILERS till 1.06: Jason Todd. Set some indefinite time after that ep. Some swearing. My first attempt at these character voices, so let me know if they’re off.

here and now

By the time Dick Grayson’s (finally, finally) alone in his room, all he can think of is stripping off his costume, sinking into a hot bath, and sleeping for two weeks straight. It’s been a rough couple of days and he’s exhausted as all hell, so the world will have to make do without him swinging in in skin-tight spandex for a bit. Maybe a whole day will go by without something going FUBAR. It’s a nice thought.

(the world doesn’t owe you anything, dick, a voice whispers in the back of his mind, sounding suspiciously like Bruce. shut up, he tells the voice.)

He peels off his Kevlar and bodysuit in stiff increments, debates the merits of hobbling towards the bathroom and getting this motel’s shitty hot water to work versus flopping onto the bed that’s… right there, then nixes both ideas in favour of grabbing an old sweatshirt and pants while checking his phone.

Five voice messages, all from Jason. Well, now.

He starts playing them on speaker while he changes. Hey, Dick, Jason says, voice all belligerence and bravado, and Dick is almost too tired to deal with this now. Almost. I can’t believe you make people leave you voicemails instead of reading texts like a normal person. Like, dude. I can even picture you brooding at the window, listening to voicemails on speaker in an empty room like you’re a maudlin heroine from a movie that came out in, like, 1980 or something.

Dick scowls at the phone and steps away from the window.

Actually, you know what? This is ridiculous. Read my texts, weirdo.

Beep. And maybe reply to them once in a while? I know you’re busy with your team, but it would be cool if we could meet up soon. I mean, I guess. Um.

Beep. Or not. Fuck you.

Beep. Sorry about that. It’s just—Big B’s acting weird again, and the only way he’s spoken to me in the last couple of days is through post-it notes. God, it’s like I’m the only one living in the twenty-first century among the three of us.

Beep. I just… Dick. How did you even—with all the things I can do, the things you could do, how did you walk away, man? I just—I can’t wrap my head around it. But I’m going to make this count, Dick, I really am, and if you’re interested in joining me, let me know. And not through like fucking voicemail.

Dick sighs. Part of him is tempted to just leave Bruce to take care of this—after all, it was Bruce that saw some potential in this kid, and stubborn, opaque fucking Bruce who couldn’t take five minutes to talk to him before outfitting him with a bodysuit and a god complex and unleashing him onto the world. Then again, if Jason does go out and do something monumentally stupid and Dick doesn’t stop him even though he could… he’s never going to forgive himself.

He stares at the phone. Robin must be on patrol with Batman right now, so… he’ll call Jason first thing in the morning. That seems like a reasonable compromise.

(you can’t switch off or postpone being responsible, dick, says the voice, and Dick really, really wants it to shut the fuck up.)

He flops back onto bed, wriggles into blessedly warm covers, and is just about to nod off when there’s a knock at his door. He bolts upright, does a quick visual sweep for where he’s stashed all of his weapons, then ventures a look through the peephole.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” Kory says, sounding totally insincere.

Dick’s running out of ways to sigh without actually turning into the maudlin heroine that Jason insists he is. He opens the door, and Kory strides in with a toss of her curls and a wide smile.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

Kory toes off her shoes and settles back on his bed. “Of course not,” she says. “The air conditioning in my room is terrible, and I figured from the way the receptionist was making eyes at you that you’d have the best one out of the four of us, so.”

“So?”

“I’m not going to drive you out of here, Dick! Come on,” she pats the bed next to her, “It’ll be like I’m not even here.”

Dick’s not sure that would ever be possible with Kory, but he complies.

Two minutes of silence pass and Dick’s almost asleep again when Kory says, “It’d be nice if we could score one of those safehouses again. We’ve been motel-hopping for a while. Rachel’s lived off nothing but pizza and chocolate milkshakes and Gar’s figured out pay-per-view.”

Dick mutters indistinctly into his pillow.

“Excuse me?”

Dick lifts his head. “We’ve still got a satanic cult on our tail. ‘Sides, Batman’s pretty much locked me out of his network. I can’t get into one even if I wanted.”

“You… could always call Jason.”

Dick tosses her a baleful glare before dropping his head back onto his pillow. Kory rolls her eyes. “It’s not like we aren’t still fighting some enemy or the other almost every other day, so I can only imagine that you continue to do this because you actually like cockroaches in the bathtub.” She shudders. “Disgusting little—”

“Careful, one of ‘em’s green and you might hurt his feelings.”

Dick almost leaps out of his skin. He jumps to his feet, wild-eyed, only to discover Gar near his door, a towel hastily wrapped around his waist. “Whoa!” he says, stepping back with one palm up. “Sorry! I came in with Kory and I promise I was going to leave without a word if things were going to… you know, get weird.”

Dick stares at him.

“You know, like.” Gar waggles his eyebrows, “If you two started to, like, have s—”

“Don’t tell me you actually came in here as a cockroach,” Kory says loudly.

“He was a frog,” Rachel says, from where she’s materialised behind Gar. “And it was my idea, so don’t blame him.”

Dick runs a hand through his hair. This is getting ridiculous. “Is nobody planning on sleeping tonight?”

“I was,” Rachel says, her voice small. “But I couldn’t. And I, um. I didn’t want to come here alone.”

Dick pauses, takes a long, deep breath. It’s been a long, hard few weeks for all of them, but sometimes it’s easy to forget that, sure, Rachel can harness demonic power strong enough to kill the planet, but she’s also thirteen, and she’s tired and scared almost every moment of every day. In another lifetime, Dick can imagine telling her to tough it out because there’s so much out there that’s worse and he can’t protect her from all of them. He keeps thinking he’s left that life behind, but it isn’t as easy as making a single choice, is it? He needs to keep making that choice every day.

He needs to make that choice now.

“Fine,” he says, hands on his hips. “Fine. We’ll… review our situation, tomorrow. Until then, for heaven’s sake, let’s all get some rest.”

Rachel beams.

Ten minutes later, Dick is back in bed and everybody else is asleep. Kory’s curled up next to him, hair tickling his nose. Rachel’s on his other side, head on his chest, bracketed by his arm. Gar, dressed in one of Dick’s sweatpants, is further down the bed, sprawled over his legs, head resting on one thigh.

Dick smiles. “Look at us,” he says, a little fondly.

“Titans,” Gar says sleepily. “We’re… we’re badass.”

#titans #my fic #spoilers #dick grayson #koriand'r #rachel roth #gar logan #a byronic cupcake #badass strawberry truffle

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hikertracks · 6 years

Text

A Pilgrimage to the Northern Terminus

Usually, you only see visit this place after you’ve hiked an extremely long way.

My adventure was flawed long before I reached the trailhead. Its first setback came before I ever left home, when I ridiculously planned to drive all the way to the park from my hometown then hike all in the same day. This plan would not have been a bad plan, except I also planned to leave following a two hour physiotherapy appointment (to correct the whiplash which I was still healing from) and return to my homeland the very next day, giving me very little time to actually enjoy my destination, a thought which would plague me the entire trip.

The day that my foray began, I was also incredibly silly, electing to stop for doughnuts (in my defense, they were extremely delicious ones from a very good local place,) then the bookstore, then after I had finally gotten my butt in gear, I stopped at another park on the way to my destination where I learned that it actually takes quite a long time to eat pitted olives.

Kentucky-Alleyne Provincial Park, which happens to be one of the most beautiful non-mountainous places in the interior of southern British Columbia. It sports two magnificent gem-like lakes and it’s a spectacular stopover on the way to more exciting places like E.C. Manning Provincial Park and the coast (if you’re coming from the east.)

Thus, it was quite late by the time that I actually arrived in E.C. Manning Provincial Park, but in this case, the seasons were with me - being July, the sun was still standing tall in the heavens. I got out of my new car, which had proven itself worthy of the memory of my previous on the drive there, rummaged through my pack, and immediately discovered that I would learn a little more about thru-hiking on this trip than I had bargained for.

I had forgotten a fuel canister.

Needing hot water in order to eat my dinner of Mountain House Macaroni and Cheese Product (the name is disgusting but the flavour is whoa,) I then went in a vain search for some, eventually giving up after an hour. Returning to the trailhead, I ditched my trusty Pocket Rocket and my beloved dinner into the backseat of my car, then set forth down the trail - the northernmost end of what is undeniably one of the most awesome trails in the world. the 4,265 kilometre (2,650 mile) long Pacific Crest Trail, or PCT.

If you haven’t figured out just with that sentence, well, when it comes to the PCT, I’m a big fan - so stepping onto any part of it, no matter how geographically minute, was a huge deal, even if that piece of PCT was very accessibly only four hours from where I live. Standing in front of the trailhead sign, which whispered only an impression of what could come gave me the shivers, and I gladly started down the trail, clad in improved gear from what I had taken on my recent thru-hike of the West Highland Way. This trip was a test - not just of my new backpack, an Osprey Eja 58, but of me - I had to know how healed I was, and whether my damaged neck could handle backpacking again.

The somewhat unremarkable northern start to a trail which literally crosses a continent.

Just in case you wondered what this puny section of this epic looks like.

Despite the hour - five o’clock by the time I set out - the sun was still high when I left the trail, hiking along the edge of the Skagit River. The trail soon took me away from there, climbing up in lazy switchbacks which would have felt gentle, if not for the veritable horde of mosquitoes who accompanied me. Having stupidly elected to disdain insect repellent, (a decision I had previously lamented as dumb on the West Highland Way thanks to Scotland’s flourishing tick population,) I was forced to hike faster than my nippy friends could fly. This wasn’t hard, except for the fact that the wide trail was taking me very steadily uphill. My breaks consisted of brief pauses to get my heart rate down, then I would charge off again, fleeing my humming insect companions.

A quick view of beautiful mountains peeking through the trees before fleeing Manning’s mosquitoes again.

Most of my views looked like this. Out of sight is the contingent of insects hovering around me.

Besieged by hot sun yet protected from its direct glare, I made my second most spectacular oops of the trip - I took my pink hat off. Then, possibly because of the healthy mosquito population pursuing me, I neglected to pause to put it away. This probably would not have been a problem for many people, but I happen to have a bizarre habit of forgetting when I am holding things. Normally, this isn’t at all an issue - normally, I don’t drop what I am holding, and I continue to aimlessly hold whatever is clutched in my hands. On that day, however, my hands apparently forgot to do what they were doing too, and I didn’t discover this fact until several kilometres had passed. The worst part was the flicker of forewarning of this happening which I had which I ignored - some part of me momentarily recognized that if I didn’t put my hat away, I’d lose it, but I was a ninny and ignored that cleverness.

Me with my beloved pink Outdoor Research Sun Runner Hat in Garibaldi Provincial Park in August 2017. RIP, pink hat, hopefully purple hat will live up to your memory. Photo taken by my dad. (Black Tusk is in the background. I will return someday, Black Tusk, I swear it!)

The junction between a wide trail (practically a road,) and a much more fun thin winding one! (Which just happens to lead all the way to Mexico.)

Triumphantly reaching the junction of the Pacific Crest Trail and the markedly more popular looking Windy Joe Trail (which was at least a metre wide compared to the thin line of the PCT,) I noted that the sun was still in my favour. Knowing that I was close to camp, I decided to ascend Windy Joe and continued up the switchbacks, which were definitely somewhat steeper than the ones on the horse-friendly PCT (although not by much.) My mosquito friends accompanied me, taking care that my breaks were never longer than a few huffs (I found vindictive pleasure in an exposed outcropping of rocks which gave me some beautiful views where the wind gave them trouble,) and I plugged my way up to the top, where an old fire lookout still stands proud, if empty. Immediately taking advantage of its mosquito-proof properties, I went inside the building and finally took a well-earned break, enjoying the fine view of Manning which was presented.

What ho! Views! And wind!

Temporary relief from my parasitic winged companions.

Muahahaha, just try and bite me through glass, little bugs, just tryyyy.

I was apparently so desperate to escape the mosquitoes that I didn’t photograph my sanctuary until I stepped outside again.

Recuperated from the harassment of my insect friends and with my belly full of Clif Bar, I slung my pack back on then stepped outside, where the winged heathens had lain in wait for me. Giving the horrid things a sly look, I bolted from the stony top of the mountain - the mosquitoes may have had an edge on me going uphill, but going down I hike like a runaway freight train. Gravity on my side, I all but galloped back to the trail junction and with a much reduced insect pursuit, I continued onto the PCT, dropping from the little pass where the junction was into the deeper forest. The trail led me through a few twists and turns before finally dropping down to camp - the final camp on this continent-traversing epic of a track. Glad to be home, I happily noted that PCT Camp sported a bear locker (I wouldn’t have to try my skills at a bear hang,) and a better water source than the trickle which I had seen hiking in.

Camp, sweet, camp in the fading light of the day.

All alone, I set up camp, stuffed bars into my mouth (while dearly missing the before-mentioned Macaroni and Cheese Product,) and went to bed, all the while slightly freaked out, because while there’s no bears in Scotland, I was in British Columbia, where every step you take is in bear country. This being a stupid thing to panic about (I had properly stored my food in the bear locker and I had not gotten any of it on myself or my gear, plus bears typically avoid humans,) I employed the magic of my cellphone as a soother, reading my own ridiculous prose off of it until finally passing out.

The next morning, I woke up with my worries of the night before utterly vanished - what was there to stress about? I was in a beautiful place, I was alone and I was on the PCT - the world was suddenly my oyster. Let me just repeat that - I was alone. I know it sounds weird, but I couldn’t have been more gleeful. I didn’t have to talk to anybody - it was just me, the shifting trees, the squirrels, and the (unseen,) bears. I loaded up my reservoir with a fresh supply of filtered creek water then set off, determined to make it to the border and the official finish line of the PCT - the northern terminus.

This was the first trip that I used my Katahdin BeFree on - I really liked its simplicity, but I think I need to test it more before writing a review.

The first of many deadfalls needing a visit from a chainsaw. As far as I can tell, the trail hadn’t seen spring maintenance yet when I was there.

Mountains!

Within metres the trail opened up, showing my views of craggy peaks which I couldn’t believe were visible from Manning (little did I know that later on in the year I would see even better on Manning’s Skyline II Trail.) The trail dipped steadily along the long flank of a mountain towards Castle Creek, becoming progressively more covered in deadfall as I went. Thanking the agility earned from a lifetime of hiking, I jumped, climbed, balanced and rerouted my way around the obstacles in my path until at last I saw a glimmer of water off to my left. Excited, I hurried forwards and at last looked upon something which I didn’t immediately realize was an obstacle - Castle Creek itself. It shone beneath the sun and I happily climbed up onto its bridge, only to stop in my tracks (the mosquitoes had apparently abandoned me overnight so I was fine with halting for a moment.)

Um... what?

Something just isn’t the way that it is supposed to be!

Oh my. (Note the broken support strut.)

I stared. I got back off of the bridge and contemplated, stared at the span, which was thoroughly twisted from whatever had besieged it over the stormy winter. One of its support struts was busted and the deck of the bridge with its railing was so warped that I didn’t dare cross it. I might have been safe, but I value my life, so my gaze fell upon the creek flowing below.

So, I guess it’s time that I tested out all that stuff I read about stream crossings.

This is my ‘I wasn’t expecting to learn this firsthand so soon and I am hoping that I won’t die’ face.

I had never done a true stream crossing - I had picked my way across water bodies only a few centimetres deep, but I had never had to wade. Not wanting to be stopped short of my goal, I stepped closer to the bank, surveying the water and judging the risk it presented. Finally deciding that it appeared safe enough from years of experience wading in rocky Canadian lakes, I took off my shoes, stuffed my socks into my pockets, then began my crossing. The water was fiercely cold but the route I had charted from the bank proved as safe as I had thought it and with the help of my singular trekking pole, I reached the other side. Elated at my success, I re-adorned my footwear then climbed up the embankment and into the PCT’s border camp.

Castle Creek looking pretty and feeling extremely cold on the legs.

Safely on the other side.

Within a few hundred metres I had reached my destination - the heralded, slightly shabby and completely magnificent (bias is a glorious thing,) northern terminus. After reading so much about the trail over the years, seeing the few chunks of nationally flagged weather beaten wood in a deforested strip of land was like reaching a holy temple. I stood there, took a somewhat large collection of pictures and videos (so that my future self could revisit the moment, you see,) and cried a bit (because that’s what you do when you stand in the presence of sacred rotting wood.) After vowing tearfully that the next time I saw it I would earn the right to be in the withering monument’s presence (the monument which was quite promptly replaced by the PCTA, likely only a couple of weeks after I was there,) then staring longingly into Washington a bit (the trail calls,) I retraced my path back to PCT Camp to pack up my tent which I had left behind to save weight.

Unseen in most terminus photos - the hideous metal border marker which hangs out right beside it.

Next time I see this thing I would like to feel significantly more accomplished.

Look! It’s Washington! I resisted the outstanding urge to investigate due to rules and laws and whatnot. (It’s illegal to pass over the border into the United States via the PCT which must be extremely annoying for southbound thru-hikers of the trail, since northbounders do not share their problem and can cross into Canada here just fine providing they have a permit to do so.)

Success after crossing back through Castle Creek; doing stream crossings barefoot usually isn’t advised, but I judged the creek bottom safe-ish for me. I’m going to have to pick up some stream crossing footwear for future adventures so that I don’t take this foolish risk again. Nothing can mess up your hike quite like injured feet, especially when you have no way of calling for help.

The rest of my hike was quite unremarkable, apart from the usual sightings of ill-prepared looking day hikers ruining my precious solitude. I attempted to spot my hot pink sun hat on the way out, but alas, my hat apparently didn’t love me anymore, because I never saw it. My hike was punctuated by encounters with pretty mushrooms, more day hikers headed up to Windy Joe, and a mama ruffed grouse and her brood of adorably fluffy babies. I returned to my car, dejected that I had to drive home (all the way home,) and promptly procrastinated by driving up to Cascade Lookout instead, deludedly thinking that I’d see a treasure trove of alpine wildflowers up there, but alas, all were dead. Finally admitting that it was time to drive home, I returned to the highway and left Manning, dreaming of the PCT all the way.

The slightly muddy-in-places steeplechase of the trail.

Mushrooms!

The mama ruffed grouse.

The Pacific Crest Trail (Canadian Portion):

- The Canadian end of the PCT, at 13 km (8 miles,) is barely a smidgeon of the trail’s total titanic length. It’s an easy trail, but expect lots of deadfall in spring, especially once you leave PCT Camp, and keep in mind that compared to other trails in E.C. Manning Provincial Park, it isn’t as scenic. If you’re coming to Manning for the first time, and you’re not a raving fan of the PCT like I am, then I’d probably give it a pass and hike the Skyline Trail II or Heather Trail instead. The trail is mostly a pretty green forest tunnel, with just a few peeking views of the mountains.

- If you do hike this trail, then Windy Joe may be worth a visit for some views (or for temporarily escaping the mosquitoes.) It’s also a good day hike, although I would hazard to say that the First Brother on the Heather Trail is a more scenic adventure with better views. There are excellent maps on the official government Manning Provincial Park page to help you with this.

- That’s also where you need to go to buy your backcountry permit if you intend to spend the night out in the wilderness.

- You can also access Mount Frosty from this trail; it is reputedly quite a grueling hike, and I haven’t done it yet.

- As I mentioned, at PCT Camp there’s a bear locker and a creek for water; keep in mind that towards the end of summer, water sources can run thin or become non-existent. There’s no tent pads, but there’s plenty of space for your tents. There is a fire pit (only to be used when there’s no fire ban) and an outhouse (pit toilet.)

- PCT northbound thru-hikers usually pass through this final section of the trail in late summer and fall.

Getting There:

- Obviously, the easiest way to get there is by car. If you don’t have one, then it is best to rent one.

- The closest airport to Manning Provincial Park is in Penticton.

- There is currently no bus service to Manning as there once was, although it may be possible that the new Ebus will provide this.

When I Was There: Early July

Temperature Range I Experienced: 10 to 32 ºC

Always Remember: Be prepared! The mountains don’t listen to the weatherman - definitely look at the forecast, but take it as law to your folly. Always bring rain protection (at the very least a $2 plastic emergency poncho,) warm layers, food, water and a first aid kit, no matter what. Your first aid kit doesn’t have to be fancy - mine pretty much consists of leukotape, duct tape, pain killer, tiny scissors, a sewing needle, thread and vet wrap. Always study (and carry,) a map of your trail to predict availability of water and pay attention to trail reports - for example, on the Skyline Trail II there is very little available so it was important to carry extra, but on the northernmost end of the Pacific Crest Trail there’s water every few hundred metres, so extra water wasn’t necessary for that section. Similarly, there was copious water on the West Highland Way in Scotland, so carrying extra beyond the two litres which I was drinking daily there was the definition of silly - however hike somewhere hot like the Mohave Desert and you may find yourself having to carry several day’s worth of drinking water. Once again, be prepared!

#Pacific Crest Trail #PCT #hiking #trekking #thruhiking #thruhike #tramping #ec manning provincial park #manning #manning park #backpacking #northern terminus #pacific northwest #pnw #british columbia #Canada #mountains #forest #trail

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hethrewmyheartinthecut · 6 years

Text

The Bride • Chapter 16

The Letter • Decision time. The last chapter.

Chapter 15 • on ao3

It was late in the morning, as Esme could see by the slant of sunlight coming in through her two bedroom windows, and she had grown sorry of lying there, thinking of the night before, and being miserable. Tired of making up reproaches in her mind to Campbell, to Tommy, most of all to herself. Tired of wallowing in helplessness. It wasn’t her natural state.

Tommy had not come by, as he usually did, with a knock on the door (or a kick on the door if he was in a poor mood) to get her up, and she wasn't sure whether to take that as a sign of consideration or to feel a bit amiss about the break in their routine. Perhaps both.

And why shouldn't she have a good day? When she looked in the mirror, the sight of her own neck made her stare as if watching a ship sink; the grotesque, mottled purples and yellows and reds striping her throat in evidence of two hands was possibly one of the ugliest things she'd ever seen in her life. But. She had scarves now. She had scarves now, and it was a Sunday, the sun shining outside, the birds still singing, and she'd had enough of moping about in the last month to last a lifetime. She’d take the day for her own.

With a red scarf patterned in tiny yellow flowers masking her bruises, a thick braid keeping her hair out of her face, and a new dress complete with deep hidden pockets, she was all set to go. There was an envelope slid under her door, rather fat, with Tommy's spidery handwriting spelling out her name on the envelope. He must have had plenty to say, but she didn't want to read any of it, so instead she put it in her pocket.

"The kettle's on," said Tommy. She'd expected him in his office, but he was sitting at the kitchen table with a newspaper, leaning back in his chair with apparent ease, but also with dark circles under his eyes.

"You're a terrible actor.” If Esme’s voice was more hoarse than usual, he didn't appear to notice. "That paper's three days old. I know you've already read it."

He didn't put the newspaper down, just watched her over the top of it as she picked out a mug and poured out the water and got the tea and the sugar and scrounged for biscuits and--

"I didn't read your letter, alright?" she said. "It's my day off."

"On Easter, it's everyone's day off."

Oh. She'd forgotten. Well, she could be forgiven for that. Despite evidence of scrubbing, there was still a dark stain on the floorboards, and avoiding it as she made the tea was taking up a large part of her mind's capacity.

"Why aren't you out on the town, then?" she said. "The shop's closed."

"Arthur and John are taking Finn for a hunt; he still hasn't taken down a deer by himself, and he's getting to that age."

"Why didn't you go with them?"

He shrugged. "I had to read the paper. And make tea."

That was a gesture of comfort, although one so paltry in comparison to the original offense that it was almost insulting. Every time she so much as looked at him, a hundred words all piled into her mind, clamoring to have their say, and going ignored because she knew that all she needed to say had already been said. She'd never admit it, but having him there was a small comfort. Tea with him at that table was the closest thing to a consistent pulse of normalcy that she had.

"Anyhow," he went on, "Polly and Ada and Lizzie are having a picnic. You're invited."

"When?"

"Whenever you want. The car's outside."

Esme would've preferred to go on the hunt, but it was better not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead of heading out the door, she let herself into the office, checked the drawer, and yes, there it was, the revolver that Tommy had offered her. That felt like years ago.

Esme noticed that he'd gotten up and was leaning against the wall, watching her through the empty space in the office door where glass used to be. She didn't try to hide the gun, just checked to see that it was loaded and put it in her biggest pocket, next to the letter.

"You're not going to read it, are you," he said.

"I'm going to have a good day. However much I can."

She was nearly out the front door, car keys in hand, when she heard him say: "I am sorry."

"I know." The sunlight was on her face and she didn't turn. "But in your whole life, Tommy, when have your feelings ever been more important than what you've done?"

He cleared his throat, slightly. "So do you..."

Esme turned around completely to meet his eyes. "What?"

Tommy cleared his throat. “Do you want to know how he did it?"

"Campbell had a key to our house, I assume he got that from you. A crowded pub's an odd place to meet a copper, but a very good place to get pickpocketed. It was obvious that he’d coordinated with the new Chief of Police. Especially when he stopped making speeches long enough to get a telephone call from someone who told him to hurry up and kill me. It was earlier than he was expecting; you left the bar early. You arrived running, so you knew. Maybe the Chief of Police has a taste for making speeches too."

"However bad an actor you think I am, he was worse, actually."

"I don't give a damn," she said, without rancor and without much emphasis. It was a mere fact. "There is sunlight, outside. I am going to go sit in it. There are women who have never tried to kill me. I am going to go talk to them."

There were a great deal of hugs, but nobody made any particular fuss about her neck, which Esme was grateful for. Two cars, four women, one baby, and a basket of food all made for a merry afternoon, especially when that basket turned out to contain a few bottles of wine as well. Out there in the open, Esme felt as though she’d stepped into a pleasant dream, and though it would inevitably end, it was at least

"All right, let's play a game," said Ada, when at last most of the food and half the wine had disappeared down their throats. They were all sprawled out on the big blanket, watching the clouds go by as Karl babbled on from his little bassinet.

"What kind of game?" said Lizzie.

"Questions and Commands."

"Oh, how old are we?" said Polly.

"It'll be fun!" said Ada.

"Sure," said Esme, thinking to herself that one of the clouds looked very much like either a goat or Johnny Dogs grinning. "As long as I don't have to be queen."

"Polly?"

"No." Polly’s tone, and the long drink of wine she took as punctuation, suggested it was a minor miracle that she was tolerating the existence of the game at all.

"Lizzie?"

"Go on, Ada, you're the one who suggested it."

"Yeah, but now I can't think of anything clever."

“Do something obvious, then.”

“Hm.” Ada considered it for a moment, then grinned. “What’s the biggest cock you’ve ever seen?” To demonstrate, she displayed a length with her hands. Fairly considerable, nothing awe-inspiring.

“Ada!” said Lizzie. Polly, apparently either loosened by wine, was already copying Ada. Esme was thinking about it.

After a minute, everyone was goggling at the length Esme displayed.

“That can’t be possible,” said Lizzie, after a moment. “I’d know about it if it was. Who in hell…”

“A racehorse I once saw,” Esme said. “What? You didn’t say it had to be from a man.”

“Jesus Christ,” said Polly, disgusted but also faintly relieved. “Next question.”

“And this time, make it saner,” said Lizzie.

“Fine. How many children do you want to have?”

“Oh, I’m getting older,” said Lizzie. “And who knows if this cunt will survive the twins.”

“Yeah,” said Ada, “But if you could have whatever you wanted?”

Lizzie pondered the question. “The four I have, the two on the way, and maybe a little boy. Maybe.”

“Fuck, that’s a lot,” Ada laughed. “I think I could manage three. Four at most.”

“It’s fine,” said Esme. “If you have them far enough apart, the older ones mind the younger ones, and it’s actually less work, because the younger ones keep the older ones occupied.”

“You’d want as much as seven, then?” said Ada.

“No,” said Esme. “I’m not going to have any.”

The three others stared at her with varying degrees of fascination.

“What?” Esme said. “For one thing, I’d have to fuck my husband.”

“I sent you on a honeymoon,” said Polly accusingly.

“And I slept the night through,” Esme lied. “Best decision I’ve ever made. Can you honestly say that you blame me?”

They considered this. Polly was clearly calculating, Ada did not want to think of the presence or absence of sex in her brother’s life, and Lizzie, well. Lizzie was giving Esme a look paired with a half-shrug that could be interpreted several ways, one of which was: he’s not so bad.

“What about you, Polly?” Esme said hurriedly.

“If I could have whatever I wanted? Two. A boy and a girl.” Polly said it very casually, but Ada was looking at her with such regret that Esme immediately grasped the basics of the situation. She felt a little guilty too.

“Next question?” Esme said, hoping they could move that train of thought along. “Make it something ridiculous, and don’t make it about cocks again, I’m tired of talking about men.”

“Fine. Then let’s talk about communism. Ladies, why have you not yet joined the cause?”

“Oh God,” Esme groaned. “Ada, don’t proselytize, it’s unbecoming.”

“I’m not allowed to talk about children, or men. Now I’m not allowed to talk about politics?”

“Fine,” said Esme. “I’m not a communist because they’re all gadjes.”

“I’m clearly not.”

“Right, well, I’m out anyway. Lizzie?”

“I did go to a meeting, once. But I’m pregnant, I’m about to be married, and life is about to improve for the first time for me in about ten years. Bad timing to be plotting a revolution if you ask me.”

“I went to meetings all the time pregnant!”

“We can’t all be you, Ada! Besides, two babies means twice the sleeping. Twice the eating.”

“Twice the pickles,” offered Esme.

“Yes, exactly,” said Lizzie.

Polly snorted. “I’m not a communist because I’m not one for mad dreams.”

“You pray every day, Pol,” said Ada.

“When I pray, a whole war goes by, and Arthur and Tommy and John come back. When you go to your meetings, years go by and Lloyd George is still at Number 10.”

“Well. I’m a Communist because I believe that a decent life should not be out of reach. I believe that it’s a fanciful dream to ask for a country whose orphans are cared for. And I don’t believe that it’s ridiculous to ask for a government that doesn’t drag your men off to war and make them die in foreign countries for no goddamn reason at all.” With those shining eyes and all that conviction, Ada did look convincing to Esme. Or maybe that was just the wine.

“Run for office, why don’t you,” said Lizzie good-naturedly.

“I will.”

“God have mercy on us all,” said Polly.

Karl, who had previously been quite happy in his bassinet, began to cry.

“Time for his afternoon snack,” said Ada.

Polly checked her pocketwatch. “Time I got back. There’s a bit of business needs taking care of. Canal business. I can’t be late.”

Polly drove the car home, because of course she did.

After the food, the wine, and the sunlight, Esme rather enjoyed it; she dozed all the way into the city, and woke only when they reached Birmingham proper. It was just as well; every time she observed the slow fade from green to grey, she wanted to turn the car around. She'd never get used to it.

When Polly parked the car, she turned to Esme instead of getting out.

"This is who we are, you know," she said. "Going to a picnic with a gun in your pocket. Babies and men trying to kill you in your own home. Sisters, brothers, and coppers at every fucking turn. There is not one without the other."

“I know.”

“You’re not going to change him.”

Esme would have laughed, but Polly looked dead serious. “I haven’t the least intention. I’d be more successful trying Communism than trying to reform that man.”

Polly's dark eyes invaded Esme, and Esme had to bite her lip to keep from saying, what do you want from me?

“I married into the Shelby family myself, under circumstances not too different from your own. People think it’s a wedding band that makes you family, but it’s not. It’s something you prove, and it’s a decision you make for yourself. God knows I don’t need you to have children, and I certainly don’t need you to fuck Tommy; in fact I don’t need anything from you at all. But it will be better for you when you see a future with this family. When you make that decision for yourself. It may seem like all doors closing, but you’d be surprised at what it opens up, too.”

"I understand," Esme said, although she did not. She just wanted those all-seeing dark eyes away from her.

And just like that, the magnetic, almost royal authority in Polly’s voice slipped away, and it was back to Polly, her aunt-in-law, again. "I'll see you tomorrow. Put some honey in your tea for that throat." With that, she climbed out of her car and headed home. After a moment, Esme did the same.

As soon as she came in the door, Esme called, "How’s your old newspaper?"

The house was, of course, empty.

She sighed, hung up her coat, and started in on dinner.

It was well after dinner, as Esme was idly going through one of Lizzie's unreadable books, when there was a knocking on the door, fast and frantic. Hand on her gun, she advanced to the door, then peeked through the lookout hole.

She opened the door. "Jesus, Curly. Do you know what time it is?"

"No." He looked scared. No, terrified. A light rain fell, and he’d apparently lost that hat he always liked to wear.

Esme glanced beyond him and saw nobody following, just the tailor, Mr. Ellis, walking home from work. "Well, come in,” she said.

Curly was wringing his hands nervously. "I can't."

"Why?"

"I have to--have to get Arthur. Do you know where he is?"

"He's gone. John and Finn too, all on a hunting trip. What's wrong?"

"In the stables. They hit Charlie over the head."

"Who's they?"

"The Irish, I think. I think. And they hit Charlie over the head!"

"Why?"

"I don't know, they hit Charlie over the head and they're hurting Tommy."

Esme tugged him inside and locked the door. "Hurting him how?"

"I don't know."

"Then how do you know they're hurting him?"

"I don't know!" The poor man looked like a horse about to bolt.

"Okay. It's okay." Esme put a hand on his shoulder and slowed her voice. "Do you know how to use the telephone?"

"Yes, yes."

"Can you call Polly and tell her exactly what you just told me?"

He nodded eagerly.

"Good man. Lock the door behind me."

When Esme snuck in, the stables were all dust and soft gold in the light of a couple lamps, smelling of sweet hay and horses and saddle soap, altogether too lovely a place for her to be hearing what she was hearing.

"Where are they?" a man shouted over and over, almost screeching really. It would have been funny but for the punctuation of fists hitting flesh.

Esme closed her eyes and tried to think it through. Fists he could take. Polly lived close; by now Curly would have told her everything. She'd send someone. No. She was on the way herself, probably; Esme could picture her striding in and shooting the man square between the eyes, the man dropping like a sack of flour.

"Where are they? Where are they? Where are they?"

"As I told you--"

Crack.

In the silence, Esme winced. That was bone, wasn't it. That was bone. Fuck. And then, into the silence, Tommy said, through his teeth: "All right. 415 Eastwick."

"North or South?" That was a new voice, a second man. Significantly less shrill, quieter, more terrifying.

"South. South Eastwick. I'll take you there."

There was a silence.

"Give him to me," said the second man. There was a note in his voice that sent a chill down Esme's spine.

"Why?" said the first.

"415 South Eastwick isn't anywhere. It's the local cemetery."

A hail of blows, now. "You fucking--"

"Shut up," said the second man, and miraculously, there was silence again. For one brief, blessed moment.

And then a splash. Splashing, a lot of it, from the far end of the barn where they were, where the trough was, and why?

Suddenly the splashing ended and Tommy was panting hard and there were droplets of water falling in the trough and oh, oh, oh. The sound of him almost drowning was far too much like the way he sounded coming out of his worst dreams. That first gasp. She'd heard it a dozen times and it still made her chest clench.

"Enough?" said the second man, very quietly.

Tommy laughed, and she could picture his face, eyes mirthless and mouth stretched wide and bloody and she closed her eyes. Please.

Splashing again, and then suddenly more; he must be fighting back. Longer. How long could this go, Jesus, how long could he hold out? Don't think of him straining against the hands holding him down, don't think of his hands gripping the edge of the trough or the wrists, the wrists like she'd gripped the wrists, like she'd--

And this time when they let him up, he was halfway to choking, body betraying him in the panicked sounds from his chest when he couldn't catch his breath and she felt something flood her, something very cold in every limb. She got to her feet and put her hand in her pocket.

Then she walked into the aisle between the stalls and took aim.

Her first shot tore into the standing man's shoulder and spun him round till he was facing her. In a blur of movement in her peripheral vision, Tommy lunged for the man crouched over him, but she stayed staring, and aiming, at the standing man. Her second shot went a wild miss and her third hit the standing man just above the hip as he looked at her, absolutely astonished, swaying a little now and mumbling out, "Who—" before the fourth shot hit him properly in the chest and he fell hard on his back.

Tommy was wrestling with the second man, no longer making those awful choking sounds but growling primal instead, so she left him to it and walked quickly down the aisle to stand above the fallen man.

He still had on that bewildered look. She realized what that cold feeling was; it was rage.

"I'm his wife," she said to the man on the ground, but he was no longer listening.

She turned from the corpse to her husband. Tommy, kneeling, had gotten the second man in some sort of a headlock and was now shoving him headfirst into the water, submerging him up to his shoulders. Esme watched the drowning man writhe and kick futilely for a second, then walked to Tommy's side.

Tommy held out his hand, and she put the gun into it. In one fluid motion, Tommy yanked the man up out of the water, put the gun to his head, and blew a spray of red all over his face and her dress and the hay.

They stayed like that, she standing, watching him, he holding up the second corpse by its hair, gun in hand, for what seemed to be a frozen moment. But then Tommy let go of both.

He turned around and sat with his back to the trough, still panting hard. He closed his eyes.

Esme laid her hand on his shoulder. Tommy took it in his own, and as his panting slowed, as the sounds of peace (horses moving restlessly in their stalls, the wind outside, a few evening birds) took over the stables again, he interlaced their fingers.

That was how Polly found them. She came in just as Esme had imagined her: gun up, eyes hard. After taking stock of the situation, she put away her gun in her purse.

"What happened?" she said.

"IRA thought we still had the guns," said Tommy.

"And I decided," said Esme.

Polly took one hard look at Esme, which Esme met without force and without apology. Then she nodded. "I'll leave you to it."

As the stable door shut behind her, Esme got down beside Tommy and dipped her free arm in the water trough behind them. Gripping the sleeve in her hand, she washed his face, or at least wiped away most of the blood before it could get too badly caked on.

He wrinkled his nose and submitted himself to her ministrations, like a resigned but disapproving cat getting a bath.

"Is this necessary?" he said.

"This is what wives do."

"Is it?" He looked pointedly at the dead body next to him.

"No. But it's what I do," Esme said firmly.

That was precisely the moment for sarcasm, but he appeared to have forgotten the familiar cadence of their usual sniping. The expression in his blue eyes gave her pause.

"What?"

Now that most of the blood was gone, she could see that come morning, he was going to have a very fine black eye. He already had a split lip, and yet, was that a smile on his face? Perhaps, barely.

"You read the letter, didn't you," he said.

"No. But…" Esme reached into her pocket.

She read silently to herself, though she mouthed the words a little, as was her habit. He watched her, not reading over her shoulder but reading her face instead.

Dear Esme,

I imagine you will have much to say to me after tonight, and if I were to try and tell you anything, you wouldn’t hear me. Nonetheless, there is some things you should know, and the sooner the better. So I write.

I should not have promised you anything. I am not a man who is in any position to make promises about safety to anyone he cares about. It must have been obvious even then, although I chose not to see it.

“You know,” Esme said, without looking up, “I think Polly managed to say as much to me earlier. In far fewer words than a whole page.”

"She said all that?"

But Esme had already continued reading.

What I should have told you instead is the truth: there is no end to this. We will never be accepted or protected by any but our own. Sometimes I allow myself to believe otherwise, but that is only a weakness, a wish to sleep through the night.

There is no excuse for this, but is perhaps an explanation, however insufficient.

When we married, I anticipated little from you, and have been learning my mistake since. Having a wife with so much fight in her is hardly convenient, but from the moment I heard you went down to the jail to see Freddie for yourself, I knew you were a Shelby. Ada says I’m lucky to have you, and out of all our father’s children, she is the one with the best judgment.

I wanted to be the kind of husband that could offer you safety in return, since I could offer you nothing else. There is money, but you chose Hart’s shop over the department store, so I doubt you consider it much of an advantage. I can’t give you the life you want, or the work you want, and I think you know my heart is not my own to offer.

In another life, I could do better. In this one, I won’t make you any more false promises. I am, perhaps despite appearances, pleased to be

Your husband,

Thomas Shelby

Though she had finished reading, Esme continued to stare at the page. “No,” she said slowly. “Polly didn’t say all of that.”

"I didn't think so," Tommy said.

Esme folded up the letter carefully, put it back in the envelope, and tucked the envelope away once more.

“Well?” said Tommy. He’d produced a cigarette miraculously dry, and lit it. (Because of course he did.) Now he smoked, uneasily, and studied the horses in their stalls.

Esme leaned over and kissed his cheek, then settled back against the trough. A comfortable silence reigned.

After a little while, he pointed with his free hand.

"Do you see that?"

"Lovely," she said. It was a black mare, glossy even in the dull lamplight, a little short, sturdy but graceful. Her big brown eyes appeared completely untroubled by all that had happened in her home, and Esme soaked in that incredible placid trust. She hadn't felt the same way since she was a child, but there was something so beautiful about it, even in a horse.

"She's all yours."

Esme rested her head on his shoulder and watched the mare twitch her tail a few times to keep away flies. She smiled. "I love her."

"You love her, eh?" He produced a cigarette from his pocket, miraculously dry, and lit it. Because of course he did.

"Yes," said Esme. "I know I've only just met her, but I love her."

"Well," said Tommy. "I can sympathize with that."

THE BEGINNING

Dear readers: I cannot thank you all enough. Your comments have really gotten me through; I absolutely could not have had the energy to complete this by myself. “I could not have done this without you” is a tired phrase, I know, but it is so completely accurate that it makes cliché unavoidable. I love you all so much, and I appreciate so much that you took the time to read what I’ve written. This has been an incredible 38 days of creative energy and I intend to keep the ball rolling!

Just. WE DID IT! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

On the sequel: I hope you do not find the ending to The Bride too disappointing, especially in light of the upcoming sequel. In The Bride, I set for myself the goal of answering the question: how and why would a person choose to become part of this family? For an independent, self-possessed, opinionated and capable woman, what would the transition from outsider to family look like, what would it feel like? I think I’ve answered that, at least in part.

I look forward enormously to writing the sequel, which I have already begun writing and plotting. It will be a much more explicitly romantic, darker story that follows the two perspectives of Esme and Tommy, hopping between two storylines, one in 1922, and one in 1923. I hope to continue indulging in my love of dialogue, while expanding my plotting capabilities, incorporating more action (as perhaps you’ve seen in the latest chapters), and overall paying very close attention to nuanced, believable relationship dynamics.

I intend to make you sadder, in multiple ways and in multiple directions. But I also intend to leave you more satisfied.

If any of this sounds interesting, reply or ask or whatever and let me know, and I’ll tag you when the first chapter of the sequel is published. For a sneak peek and poster of the sequel, look here.

The Bride on ao3 • masterlist

@blinder-secrets @peakystitches, @prettieparker86, @tommyshelyb, @sympathyfortheblinderdevil, @annaistiredofyourshit, @lolashelby, @peakyrach, @fookingblinders, @theskinofmyemotions, @b000ks, @pure-bastard-extract, @siobhanlovesfilm, @unluckymonaghan, @sameshitdiffernetday (lmk if you want added or removed from tag notifications on The Bride)

#Esme x Tommy #Tommy x Esme #Tommy Shelby #Esme Shelby #Polly Gray #Polly Shelby #Ada Thorne #Ada Shelby #Lizzie Stark #Peaky blinders #Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky blinders fanfiction #The Bride #mine #OH MY GOD END OF A FUCKING ERA #STOP IT IM GOING TO CRY #no I'm not no I'm not #still have a sequel to write #OH. MY. GOD. no I'm still freaking out

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