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nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

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dance me to the end of love (iii)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential percy jackson & the olympians spoilers, alcohol consumption, motion sickness and vomiting

series masterpost: here

a/n: this took me a hot sec to finish but here it is! there's a dumb little latin joke in here but that's just because i'm a nerd lmao

Ryan is certainly giving Bette a run for her money in the best friend department.

Magdalene has no intentions of usurping her best friend, but Ryan is quickly becoming the person she talks to most frequently. It started on social media but quickly moved to regular texting, both of them being twenty-five and capable of communicating through more normal channels. The text thread between them isn’t indicative of their newfound friendship – it looks like they’ve been friends since high school. At any given moment at least three conversations are going on, and Magdalene regularly sends him random updates throughout the day. Ryan likes hearing about any interesting artefacts she encounters at work so she keeps mental notes to tell him during their frequent phone calls.

Despite talking to him almost constantly, Magdalene hasn’t seen Ryan since they grabbed lunch at Barn Owl nearly two weeks ago. The lake house trip is a couple days out, and she’s been busy trying to get all her ducks in a row. At work, the current project is coming to an end and Magdalene will be sad to see it go – it’s the first thing she’s been on from start to finish. She’s got a neighbour coming to spend time with Caligula while she’s away so he doesn’t get too upset. Though the days are passing by in a haze as she tries to get ready, Magdalene is excited to get away for a little bit. It’s been a few years since she’s left Denver for more than a night, electing to skip on Bette’s previous vacation invites, and it will be nice to slow down. Life is moving at a comfortable pace, but having some time to pause and breathe will keep Magdalene from feeling too overwhelmed.

Halfway through her last day of work, Magdalene gets a text from Ryan that makes her nearly double over in laughter.

Julius Caesar walks into a bar and says to the bartender “I’ll have a Martinus please!” The bartender replies “Don’t you mean a Martini?” Caesar shakes his head and says “If I wanted double I would have said so.”

It takes her a minute to catch her breath, which piques June’s curiosity. Magdalene recites the joke and her boss rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but does let out a chuckle.

June didn’t think it was funny, but I did. Thank you for making today infinitely better. You riding with us tomorrow?

Magdalene tucks her phone back into her purse, determined to remain focused for the last few hours, and misses the reply telling her that Ryan won’t be riding with Bette, Tyson, and herself, but rather with Cale and his girlfriend to leave enough space for all the gear getting brought. She doesn’t see it until she’s walking across the parking lot to her car and it fills her with a sadness that doesn’t make much sense. He’ll be there for the entire week, so does it matter that he’ll be in a different car for the four hour drive? Magdalene has a sinking suspicion about why she’s upset, but she pushes it down. There’s no space in your life for a relationship right now, she reminds herself as she unlocks the door to her apartment. Caligula is waiting patiently at the door and distracts her thoughts from the handsome man with the kind smile that’s been all she can think about recently.

The cat is incredibly perceptive and knows the regular routine is going to change, making him particularly clingy. He follows Magdalene as she finishes packing, meowing and begging for pets, and she considers bailing on her friends. Caligula has mild separation anxiety and Magdalene doesn’t go away often partly because of it – though another reason is her homebody nature. Only the thought of seeing Ryan keeps her from hanging all her clothes back up.

“Don’t worry little boots,” she coos, “I won’t be gone long. Maria is going to check on you while I’m away, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

It seems ridiculous to speak to her pet as though it’s a child, but Magdalene knows Caligula comprehends what she’s saying. He’s always been smart, and the two of them share a bond that’s hard to explain. She picks him up, puts him in the pocket of her hoodie, and they spend the rest of the night packing and dancing along to the radio.

☼☼☼☼

Bette forgot to mention that the road to the lake house is winding, and Magdalene spends the entire ride with her head between her knees. Motion sickness is something that unfortunately plagues her during journeys longer than a couple of hours and she wishes she would have thought to take anti-nausea medication before leaving the house. Tyson tries to crack a joke about her being a bad passenger, but his girlfriend swats his arm and passes her friend a water bottle with a concerned smile. The two of them speak in hushed tones, almost certainly for Magdalene's benefit, and she does her best not to throw up on the floor of Tyson’s car. After what feels like two decades the vehicle rolls to a stop at the end of a gravel path.

“Mags, we’re here,” Bette says softly, praying that her friend will begin to feel better after stretching her legs and feeling firm ground underneath her.

There’s an unintelligible groan from Magdalene, but she rises out of the car and stumbles into the house. Tyson and Bette insist that she rest and they’ll handle the unloading of the car, so she crawls into one of the empty beds and falls asleep as soon as her head touches the pillow. It’s a dreamless slumber, one fuelled by the pure exhaustion of battling illness while travelling, and when she awakes hours later Magdalene feels oddly refreshed. Her energy level is still relatively low, but she knows that intaking food won’t be an issue.

Padding down the stairs as quiet as possible in an effort to not break the peaceful atmosphere, Magdalene is met with a quiet house. She’s utterly confused – she didn’t sleep long enough to miss dinner and judging by the way the sun is low in the final car full of people should be arriving any minute. For a moment she thinks the group left her in the mountains alone, but then the sound of a trunk closing breaks the silence.

“I fucking told you bro, you should have let me drive!”

Ryan’s voice echoes in Magdalene's ears and her heart skips a beat. She didn’t realize how much she had missed him or how excited she is to see him. Despite everything inside of her saying she should run into his arms Magdalene stays put in the kitchen, running the tap to get a glass of water. She focuses on the mountain on the other end of the lake, framing the setting sun and creating a postcard ready photo. The camera app on her phone is open and angles for the best shot are found. Ryan tumbles through the door a second later, arms filled to the brim with luggage and bags of food.

He drops them the second he sees her, running up behind her and lifting her off the ground. “Mags! Cale almost hit a deer!”

The shock of Ryan’s onslaught of affection catches her off guard, and Magdalene shakes her hand, forcing the picture to turn out as nothing but a blur.

“No hello?” She laughs as Ryan lets her feet touch down on the wooden floor. “It’s the least you could give me after destroying my chance of getting a National Geographic worthy picture.”

He smiles but doesn’t let his hands drop from their perch on her waist. “There’s six more days for you to nail it. I’ll even help if you ask.”

Other bodies enter the house then, causing Magdalene to slink away from Ryan’s touch even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. They’re simply friends, and she doesn’t want Bette to get any ideas. The last thing Magdalene needs on her plate right now is her best friend forcing her to paint a custom denim jacket with Ryan’s number across the back. “I can’t believe you almost hit a deer,” Tyson sighs in disbelief.

“It wasn’t even close,” Cale grumbles, picking up his bags and stomping off to find a place to claim as his own the next couple of days. A petite redhead follows after him, giving a small wave to those in the kitchen before scurrying away. When she asks, Ryan tells Magdalene the girl’s name is Livy, and that she’s Cale’s girlfriend from back home.

Everyone shrugs at his moodiness and disperses. Bette and Tyson stay in the kitchen to make dinner, Ryan goes to claim the final room, and Magdalene slips outside to sit on the patio furniture. The sun has dropped drastically in the past five minutes, causing the air to chill. She wraps her arms tighter around her legs and watches a pair of birds fly over the lake below. It’s so peaceful, a complete one-eighty from the insanity of her life in Denver, and Magdalene thinks about never leaving. She knows it’s impossible, but as she closes her eyes and listens to the quiet laughter of her friends inside the idea seems like a pretty good one.

The sliding door creaks open and Ryan goes through as quietly as possible. He tosses a sweater in Magdalene’s direction as he walks over, plopping down beside her on the small couch.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, slipping the fabric over her head. “I didn’t realize how cold it had actually gotten.”

He smiles in response and shuffles his body a little closer to create extra warmth. Magdalene leans into him, trying to appear casual even though her heart is beating rapidly, and pulls on the strings of the sweater Ryan gave her.

“So, are you excited for this week?”

It’s more awkward than she thought it would be – seeing him in person again, especially since they’ve been texting almost constantly, and the words kind of stick in her throat.

“Honestly? Now that I’m here I am, but I was a little leery about taking time off,” Ryan explains, detailing how he’s trying to improve some aspects of his two-way play and is worried his progress will plateau. Magdalene understands and shares her own worries about taking time off work even if her boss encouraged it.

After catching up quickly and running out of things to say, the pair of them sit in silence watching the sun set until they’re called inside for dinner. It’s nice to just exist, especially with Ryan beside her, and Magdalene feels her heart sink as they separate and he goes to make sure Cale isn’t actually mad at him.

☼☼☼☼

It storms the first two days at the lake house, forcing everyone to stay inside. Tyson complains about how he has less time to drive the boat that came with the property but the others take it in stride. Magdalene spends most of the time reading for pleasure, something she hasn’t been able to do much of the past few years, and Ryan joins her for large chunks of the time. It turns out that he too is an avid reader, and the two of them discuss their favourite novels and series while the other four play board games.

“So you’re telling me you wish Annabeth would have joined the Hunters of Artemis?” Magdalene shrieks in shock, almost knocking the wine out of her glass as her arms flail in disbelief.

“I think it made sense for her to,” Ryan defends.

“But she’s perfect for Percy!”

He sticks to his guns. “I’m not saying she isn’t. I just think that at the time the offer was presented it was the most logical choice. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about what would have happened if she did.”

She ducks her head in defeat because she had imagined it, on many occasions in fact. When reading the series for the first time in middle school Magdalene had desperately hoped Annabeth would choose the Hunters over Camp Half-Blood, gaining the family she herself never was privy to. They return to reading quietly beside each other, occasionally knocking elbows when trying to turn a page.

Tuesday brings sunshine and clear skies, which means Tyson is trying to corral everyone into the boat as soon as they’re up. Magdalene tries her hardest to get out of it but her pleas fall on deaf ears.

“You’ll be fine, stop being such a wimp,” Cale jests. She knows that he’s just anxious to soak up some sun, but the words hurt more than Magdalene would have liked them to.

Livy swats her boyfriend across the chest. “Enough! If she doesn’t want to come she doesn’t have to.” The smaller girl sends her a kind smile before speaking low enough that only Magdalene can hear her. “I know your book is just getting good and you look like the kind of person who needs alone time to function properly. Enjoy yourself.”

Seemingly excused from the day’s festivities, Magdalene gives a sheepish wave before climbing the small hill to the house. Ryan meets her halfway and is appalled when he hears of her plans.

“Nope, I don’t think so. You’re not leaving me alone to be the ultimate third wheel!”

He has her off the ground and over his shoulder in a millisecond, jogging lightly to catch up with the rest of the group. Magdalene’s laugh bounces off the tree lined shore, and she’s too busy having fun shrieking at Ryan to complain about being forced to spend all day on a boat away from her book. Tyson peels away from the dock before she can regret tagging along, and Bette tugs Magdalene to the bow.

The two girls chat quietly, giggling and sipping on the mimosas they made earlier. Magdalene isn’t a huge day drinker, but Bette makes sure there’s more orange juice than champagne to make her feel less guilty. Livy joins them a while later after becoming sick of the boys and their shenanigans. It’s nice to hang out with a group of girls that aren’t competing for the top spot in a class, Magdalene decides, and she revels in the stories they tell of going to hockey games and babysitting the children of players so they can catch a break. Twinges of jealousy creep up at the wonderful family dynamic the Avalanche seem to have, but she stomachs them. She reminds herself that other people deserve to have support systems and excuses herself from the conversation.

Magdalene slides into the free space beside Ryan, and without thinking he wraps an arm around her shoulder. It feels so natural that she wonders if it’s how he greets all his friends, but the looks of shock and Tyson and Cale’s faces say otherwise. After a bit more cruising they find a small bay to anchor in for a while. The sun had climbed to the middle of the sky and is unbearably warm, leaving everyone no choice but to jump into the water to cool off. Magdalene does her best to float peacefully a short distance away from the group but is somehow brought into a splashing war because the teams aren’t equal.

Eventually the constant barrage of water chills her to the bone, and Magdalene swims back to the boat. She watches from the sidelines and cheers for her old teammates with a towel wrapped snugly around her. Ryan breaks from the group too, insisting it isn’t fair to have teams on unequal strength. Once dry, he picks up the baseball cap he brought and places it delicately on Magdalene’s head.

“Your cheeks are starting to go pink and I don’t want you to burn,” he explains, passing her a bottle of sunscreen as well.

“Thanks Ry.”

They muse about the idyllic beauty of the scene in front of them until everyone rejoins them. For reasons unbeknownst to Magdalene Tyson is in a rush to get back to the house, which leads to him driving very fast and a little erratically. The contents of her stomach threaten to come up but she holds them down, tightening her grip on the leather seat. A wave crests and Tyson hits it head on, causing the boat to lurch and rock. Magdalene knows it’s going to happen before it does and leans over the side to save a mess from being created. All the alcohol and food she’d consumed throughout the day is no longer in her body, and heat creeps up the back of her neck. She’s embarrassed – what twenty-five year old gets sea sick?

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

She tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace. “I just, uh, get motion sick really easily.” Bette passes her a water bottle and she drinks it quickly, eager to get the taste out of her mouth.

Ryan lets Magdalene curl into his side the rest of the way home, and rubs comforting circles on her back to ease her discomfort, doing his best to ignore the stares from his friends.

☼☼☼☼

The trip comes to an end much more quickly than Magdalene would have liked. Tomorrow morning they’ll pack up and drive back to Denver, returning to their normal hectic schedules. Cale and Livy are heading back to Alberta for the rest of the summer, and Bette and Tyson will be going for a visit as well. She’s heard Ryan mention going home in passing, which most likely means he doesn’t have plans to stay. Magdalene will be all alone in Colorado, but she’s used to it. The only issue being friends with professional athletes is that they leave. She’s been dealing with the loss since Bette and Tyson got together years ago – having them around as her support system most of the year and then them disappearing for a couple of months.

Not wanting to think about how soon she’ll be alone, Magdalene heads outside and starts a campfire. It’s a skill she picked up as a kid and it has come in handy over the years. The newspaper crinkles under the flame from the lighter, and soon the kindling is burning well. Everyone else is still inside, cleaning up from dinner and preparing for one last night in paradise. She places a few blocks of wood in the fire pit once there’s a good enough flame and curls up in a chair, lost in thought about what comes next. There’s rustling from somewhere behind her but she pays it no mind, assuming it’s a small animal wandering through the forest.

“Can I offer you some company?” a voice says softly, waiting for a response. The movement wasn’t a raccoon but in fact Ryan, and Magdalene gestures at the chair beside her with a smile.

He passes her a glass of white wine, which she takes with an appreciative hum. They sit in silence for a moment, admiring the beauty of the setting sun. “I’m going to miss it,” Ryan sighs, leaning back in his chair and extending his legs.

She nods. “Me too. It’s so quiet up here. Denver gets too loud sometimes.”

“Tell me about it. I’m not just going to miss the lake though, it’s also lounging around and not having to worry about hockey. And you.”

The ending comes out rushed, and Magdalene isn’t sure she heard him correctly. “Me?”

Ryan looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re funny, smart, and catch all of my West Wing references. There’s no one who gets me quite like you, even back home.”

It takes her by surprise. They’ve only known each other for a few months, and only really started associating after the party at Bette and Tyson’s. There has to be somebody who knows him better than she does. When she voices her opinion Ryan just scoffs, saying that people treat him as one-dimensional because he plays hockey. Somehow the conversation shifts to Magdalene, and when she lets it slip she gets lonely in Denver without her friends, Ryan asks the question she’s been dreading.

“So why don’t you get a boyfriend?”

“I can’t just get a boyfriend because my friends are gone,” she laughs, but there’s an edge to it, like she’s unsure of where this will go and how to question the follow ups.

He rolls his eyes. “I know that, but like, I don’t know, wouldn’t it be nice to not be alone all the time?”

It would be, Magdalene thinks, but she just shrugs. “I guess I’m not looking for a relationship right now. I just finished school and for the first time in a long time I can focus on myself.” She leaves out the part where Ryan gives her butterflies and that if he asked she’d probably jump headfirst into a relationship with him.

The topic is dropped then because Tyson comes out of the house screaming about the night is going to be wild because it’s their last together for a while. Magdalene and Ryan share a look of mild panic, but both of them are itching to have fun with friends so they raise their glasses in salute before finishing them in one gulp.

Magdalene drinks more than she should and wakes in the morning with a killer hangover. It seems that no one else is better off though, all stumbling around looking for Advil and coffee like it’s going to be their last meal. Packing up takes a bit longer than expected, but they’re still out before the official checkout time. There’s a bit of discourse on who Magdalene will travel home with. Bette wants her in Tyson’s car, no doubt to talk about how close her and Ryan seem to be, but Cale offers to bring her with them. His reasoning is that Ryan is driving him and Livy directly to the airport, and having the front seat could be good for her motion sickness. It’s ultimately Magdalene’s choice and the idea of having more time with Ryan before he leaves is too enticing to pass up. She bids her other friends goodbye, promising to come over for dinner before they fly out, and climbs into the cab of Cale’s truck.

Once again she’s a less than ideal passenger, but this time it’s because she sleeps the entire way back to Denver. The drinking took it out of her and coupled with the queasiness in her stomach from the winding roads sleep is the only thing that makes sense. So much for extra time with Ryan she thinks as she wakes up in the airport parking lot.

“Sleeping beauty has risen!” Ryan chuckles, “Why don’t you get out and stretch your legs for a sec? We have the parking spot for another fifteen minutes.”

Magdalene does as suggested because truthfully her joints are a little stiff, and finds Cale and Livy grabbing their bags from the back. She hugs them goodbye and wishes them safe travels, which Cale returns with a warning not to get into too much trouble before heading for the entrance. Once both of them are safely inside the confines of the airport, Ryan and Magdalene get back in the vehicle and finish the last leg of the trip.

She directs Ryan to her apartment complex, and he mentions that he’s never been in this area of the city. “That’s because you have no need to be around a bunch of university kids,” she laughs. Once they pull into the parking lot, he offers to help her take up her bag. It’s only a small suitcase Magdalene could definitely handle herself, but she wants him to come up, to prolong her time with him.

Magdalene’s keys jingle in the lock as the door opens. Ryan follows her in and shuts the door carefully, not wanting to disrupt the aura of peace that permeates the space. From what he can tell, the average size apartment is the perfect reflection of Magdalene – packed full of books and plants and feels very put together despite the owner being only twenty-five. After their shoes find a home on the boot rack and the coats they brought for the drive home are hung in the closet she leads Ryan into the living room. There’s a soft purring by his feet, and Ryan looks down to see an animal. He never pegged Magdalene as someone to keep pets.

“Who’s this?” he asks, bending down to pet the small white cat.

“That’s Caligula.”

A puzzled look graces Ryan’s features. “Who?”

“Caligula,” Madalene giggles. “You can call him little boots if you’d like. He’ll respond.” She picks up the animal when it comes to her and scratches gently behind its ear.

“Why would you name your cat something dumb like Caligula, and why does it respond to little boots?”

It’s then the woman realizes that not everyone understands the reference. “Caligula was the third emperor of Rome,” she explains, “But his real name was Gaius. He gained the nickname Caligula as a child and it just stuck. It translates to little boots in Latin.”

Ryan is in awe of Magdalene for what feels like the millionth time. Of course someone as smart as her would have a crazy name for a pet and have the knowledge to back it up. He feels his chest tighten with affection but he wills it away. She isn’t looking for anything right now, he reminds himself. Magdalene’s self-professed inability to reciprocate his feelings is frustrating, but Ryan knows he’d wait forever for her.

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: catch some extra content here!

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @ricohenrique @lovethepreds @cutiesara23 @hockeyallthetime @stlbluesbrat21 (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

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nillegible · 4 years ago

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Mo Xuanyu notices someone following him on his way back to Mo manor one night. It's not a villager, they wouldn't walk so lightly. Mo Xuanyu would hazard a guess that it's not a cultivator, either, heaven knows they would have attacked him hours ago for harassing and frightening the villagers as he has been. Curious, he melts into the shadows.

"Ghost of the Yiling Patriarch?" asks a soft voice, closer than Mo Xuanyu had expected.

It's a familiar voice; and when he looks to where it came from he sees a young man he’d met often at Koi tower, crying to his broth Jin Guangyao, not knowing exactly how cruel his San-ge truly was.

"Sect Leader Nie," says Mo Xuanyu, approaching Nie Huaisang where he stands in the patchwork darkness beneath a tree.

Nie Huaisang stares for a long moment, then says, "Mo Xuanyu."

"Expecting the Yiling Patriarch?" asks Mo Xuanyu, not without some bitterness. It's all that his father had wanted out of him as well, he had ignored him in favor of Xue Yang who barely even tried to understand the Yiling Patriarch's incredible mind. Xue Yang had been more interested in re-animation and puppetry than the magic, the theory, and that was just pitiful.

But that kept him safe, and where was Mo Xuanyu now? Back with his mother’s brutish family, barely clinging to his sanity, and amusing himself by pretending to be the ghost of a demonic cultivator more than a decade gone.

"I could have used Wei-xiong's help, yes," says Nie Huaisang simply. It makes Mo Xuanyu look closer. Nie Huaisang is drawn, and pale, but he stands straighter than he ever has at Koi Tower. Some instinct tells him that this man, here, is dangerous. Mo Xuanyu, the 'mad village fool' understands.

Perhaps Nie Huaisang is no more a weak fool than he is. Hidden depths, Sect Leader Nie.

It's because of the way Nie Huaisang says Wei-xiong with more respect than anyone Mo Xuanyu has ever heard, it's because Mo Xuanyu has seen Nie Huaisang's beloved brother's head locked away like a curiosity among Jin Guangyao's other war prizes, it is because Mo Xuanyu is sick and tired of the world and wants to burn it all down, that he says, "I've studied some of his work. Would I do?"

[read on Ao3, or click below to read on tumblr]

Sect Leader Nie accepts his offer, tells him that he’ll get in touch, but does not explain himself or what he wants. He is really really good at giving non-answers, at batting those pretty eyes of his and pouting (he carries a fan. Every quirk of his lips that isn’t hidden is calculated, is intended to be seen).

He also keeps his promise and visits again in the dead of night, nearly a week later. He brings with him notes on different sorts of monsters. Some are generic and some are intriguing. None of them seem like the sort of thing that would require the help of the Yiling Patriarch, but Mo Xuanyu talks him through the techniques and banishment methods that would be required for each class of monsters or demons.

It feels like an assessment. He wonders what happens if he passes.

Just a few years ago Mo Xuanyu wouldn’t have noticed the details, but he’s been thinking about Jin Guangyao a lot, recently, and he’s worked out enough of how he had been played to see someone else using similar techniques.

Why hasn’t Jin Guangyao realized that you’re dangerous? he should ask, but instead he tells Nie Huaisang about the time WWX had written about redirecting yao into helping in a fight against a demon, and how he seemed never to have revisited that idea again.

“That would be dangerous,” says Nie Huaisang.

Mo Xuanyu smiles at him, “He was the Yiling Patriarch, I don’t think he minded.”

“No. Wei-xiong was never afraid of danger,” Nie Huaisang agrees. That again. “Thank you for the advice, Young Master Mo. Shall we meet here next week?”

“Isn’t this a little far out of your way, Sect Leader Nie?” asks Mo Xuanyu.

“Ah, for help of the sort that Young Master Mo can provide, it is not a bother.”

“Have the peerless Gusu Lan stopped supporting other sects in need? That Sect Leader Nie would cross Gusu to approach this humble one for help…” It’s a good lead in, Nie Huaisang can laugh it off or tell him what he really wants.

Then another thought strikes him, so he giggles, “Or can it be that Sect Leader Nie has need of a cutsleeve whore with no options, and thought to try his luck?” Mo Xuanyu bats his lashes, desperately missing the little fineries he’d grown used to at Koi Tower. He probably looks a mess and can’t quite pull it off, now.

Nie Huaisang’s eyes widen, round with surprise, “Ah, Young Master Mo, that’s not it! It really isn’t, I have. I have a specific problem but it will be a source of great shame if it comes out that Nie Sect couldn’t solve it without depending on Lan sect or Jin sect… they already do so much for my Sect.”

The bitterness is barely perceptible, but it is there. He wonders if Jin Guangyao is the reason for the distrust between GusuLan and QingheNie, too. It gives him a flicker of hope, “If I could be of more use to Sect Leader Nie in Qinghe I would be willing to–”

“No!” says Nie Huaisang. “We can’t show that we’ve met.”

Oh. “Is this because I said – I don’t actually want to sleep with you, Sect Leader, I’m not really an animal, whatever my brother has said.” Of course he hadn’t pulled off charmingly flirtatious, what had he been thinking? If he’d been prettied up it could have been enough to fluster Nie Huaisang, now he’d probably just been disgusted at the thought.

“I do not think that of you, Young Master Mo. But Jin Guangyao cannot know that we’ve met. I’m sorry that I cannot take you with me. But I can use your help. May I please meet with you a week from now?” asks Nie Huaisang.

It sounds more genuine this time.

It’s still a no. “My cousin beats me. I’m fed once a day, alongside the donkey, I sleep in the stables. Sect Leader Nie… please.”

“Mo Xuanyu, I –” he looks up into Nie Huaisang’s face, and sees only pity. No surprise or horror.

“But you knew that didn’t you?” asks Mo Xuanyu softly, and sees the truth in Nie Huaisang’s face. Of course he knew. Of course he’d come in the night to get what he needs from him, but not help him in return. Maybe he’ll give Mo Xuanyu a pouch of coins in the end. Coins that no-one in the village would take from him, would accuse him of stealing from his aunt and cousin. And once Mo Ziyuan heard, he’d be beaten for it and never see the money again.

Get lost, then, Mo Xuanyu should say, because he is tired of being used and cast away. But he truly has nothing, and another visit… someone to talk to who at least speaks to him like he’s human… Mo Xuanyu has so little that he can’t turn down even scraps like this.

“I will see Sect Leader Nie next week,” Mo Xuanyu says. “You can bring me the notes for the real problem. If I cannot solve it, I’ll tell you that, I won’t con you with some fake ritual.” He makes to leave, but Nie Huaisang stops him.

“Is there something else I could do for you?” asks Nie Huaisang. “I can pay you, in cash or weapons – I heard that your sword was taken from you before you left.”

“Sweet buns,” he says, before he can think it through. His stomach speaking before his pride could stop him. He prays that it sounded sarcastic and not desperate.

“What?” asks Nie Huaisang.

“Go away, Sect Leaser Nie,” he says. Mo Xuanyu isn’t going to repeat himself, isn’t going to beg for sweet buns, of all things.

A hand grasps his shoulder and Mo Xuanyu recoils, pushing him away so fast that he unbalances himself, stumbling and falling heavily to the ground. It sends a shock to his still healing ribs, making him gasp for a moment before he can regain his breath and look up at Nie Huaisang, who has his hands out, open to show he mans no harm.

“Mo-gongzi, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have grabbed you, I didn’t think.” He’s rummaging in his sleeve and Mo Xuanyu wonders if now is when he should run away to save his own life.

Maybe if he cared about his own life, he would.

Instead he just watches, until Nie Huaisang pulls a small paper parcel from his sleeve. He kneels down, and offers it to Mo Xuanyu.

He opens the paper, to find three sweet buns inside. They’re still warm. He takes one and returns the others, and takes a bite. He’s finished, it and resisting licking his dirty fingers to chase down the last of the sweetness – he hadn’t had anything sweet since the local temple gave out sticky buns during the last festival. The priests had turned him away – disgusting, aberrant, abomination, but some of the boys had made a game of tossing buns at him, and they’d tasted wonderful after he scraped the dust off.

“Keep them,” says Nie Huaisang, pushing the package back towards him. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just startled that you asked for the one thing I had up my sleeve.” The smile is hesitant and drops off quickly. He just looks sad. Tired.

“Thank you,” Mo Xuanyu whispers, because he still has manners. He’s not going to cry over just two sweet buns, but his eyes sting as if he might. “Is this about…” he swallows the words back. Don’t be stupid, A-Yu, but Nie Huaisang doesn’t look angry. “This is about Chifeng Zun, isn’t it?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” asks Nie Huaisang voice sharper.

“His head,” says Mo Xuanyu, and can’t hold the tears back. “His head is at Koi Tower. Why do you think I’m here? Why do you think that I… for a bun. Jin Guangyao tried to kill me because I found out and. Three buns.” He laughs while he cries. He’d never realized how cheap he would become. I am so sorry, Mother.

A pale green handkerchief is produced from the same sleeve, and Nie Huaisang holds it out to him. “I will speak to you next week, Mo-gongzi. I’ll bring you food. I’ll help. It’s late, I need to go now. But trust me, please.” When Mo Xuanyu doesn’t move to take it from him, Nie Huaisang takes his free hand and presses it into it. “Good bye, Mo-gongzi,” he says, and this time he gets up and walks away.

Mo Xuanyu doesn’t move until the footsteps are long gone. He traces the delicate embroidery on the handkerchief. Pine trees in deep greens, a stream nestled within it.

It’s too beautiful to cry on, so he wipes his face on his sleeve instead. Shortly before dawn he gets up and brushes some of the dirt from his robes, and rushes back to the manor. He needs to start on his chores or he’ll be in for a worse beating than usual.

In the light of day it feels surreal.

Was that really Sect Leader Nie?

Was that someone that Brother sent to see what I am up to? To see what I'd do?

If that was Jin Gunagyao, then Mo Xuanyu wouldn’t have long left to live. Not if he's leaking secrets the way he is.

(He wishes he'd come himself, that he'd have a chance to defend himself, a chance to live. But. He has never played fair, and wouldn't start now.)

Mo Xuanyu would give nearly anything to kill his brother first.

Three days later, Madam Mo hires a new kitchen-girl. She has friendly eyes and a green ribbon in her hair.

That night when Mo Xuanyu heads to the stables to sleep with the donkey, he finds a blanket, a portion of the food that his cousins and aunt had been served, and a small pot of medicine.

There is dinner every night after, he sees the new kitchen-servant sneak it out at dusk. She's terribly good at sneaking, and Mo Xuanyu is grateful to have food again. He's been eating stale vegetables and uncooked grain with the donkey for months.

Four night later, there's a person waiting for him siting cross legged on the floor of the stable, lit by a small lantern. Mo Xuanyu's dinner waits for him beside him on the hay.

"Now will you tell me what you really need?" asks Mo Xuanyu, lifting the lid off the bowl. Soup, still steaming hot. He'd found the talismans carved into the bowl to keep it that way yesterday.

"I was wondering," says Nie Huaisang. "Can Mo-gongzi play the flute?"

#mo xuanyu #nie huaisang #mdzs #mxy #nhs #au: canon divergence #the soul summoning array doesn't exist #tw: canonical abuse

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madpanda75 · 4 years ago

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“Taking Chances Part 9: Love, Tequila, and Ice Cream”

And we’re back!!!!! So to give you a brief recap, Rafael and the reader left the Carisi house in a huff after the reader gave Sonny “the slap heard around the world.” Find out what happens next in this latest chapter. Words are said, sexy times happen. It’s fluffy, smutty fun....for now 😉💕

NSFW: Sex by the fireplace! Can ya’ dig it??? 😜💥🔥

Rafael adjusted his grip on the steering wheel as he drove across the Verrazano Bridge. Occasionally he would glance over at you sitting in the passenger seat with your head down and your hands gently folded in your lap.

Rafael cleared his throat. “So should we go to my place or yours?”

You grunted out a monotone syllable in response.

“Ok, your place it is,” he said with a sigh, turning on the blinker and making a right turn towards your apartment.

Once back at your place, you immediately went to the living room and started a fire. Your apartment may have been a shoebox, but the wood burning fireplace was a definite perk. When you first moved in, the notion of a struggling artist pouring her heart and soul onto the canvas beside a roaring fire seemed romantic and bohemian.

While you stroked the flames to life, Rafael stood there with his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Cold night, huh?” He inwardly cringed at having been reduced to commenting on the weather.

“Mmhmm,” you replied.

“Two syllables. That’s progress,” he thought. Maybe by the end of the night, you would utter an actual word. After several minutes of deafening silence, he made yet another feeble attempt at conversation. “Your mom is a wonderful cook.”

“Hmmm,” you grunted.

“That’s it. I can’t take it anymore.” Rafael crouched down next to you and took your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. Your eyes were still shiny with tears, your nose bright red.

It was the first time since leaving your parents’ house that you had looked at him or even acknowledged his presence apart from the occasional mumble. “I know this afternoon was a complete disaster, but I can’t take this anymore. Please say something. Anything.”

Your bottom lip quivered before blurting out, “He cheated on me!” As soon as the words escaped your lips, you crumbled into a heap on the floor, sobbing.

Rafael gathered you into his arms, running his hands through your hair, rocking back and forth. You clung to him, wetting his brand new Tom Ford dress shirt. But neither of you could care less. After all, he knew what it was like to be betrayed. Once you calmed down, he asked, “So tequila or ice cream?”

“Both,” you replied with a hiccup and a very loud unladylike sniffle.

Rafael got up and walked over to your kitchen to grab the bottle of Tequila Ocho Reposado you had hidden in your cupboard behind the cheap stuff before rummaging in your freezer for the pint of Haagen-Dazs’ Chocolate Chocolate Chip. He smiled when he saw the post-it note you had left on the frozen dessert.

“This ice cream is the personal property of Y/N Carisi. DO NOT TOUCH OR PREPARE TO MEET A VIOLENT SUDDEN DEATH!”

He handed you a spoon and a glass. “Why do you have a death threat on your ice cream?”

“Sometimes Teresa or Gina crash here after partying or a bad date. They’re notorious for stealing my secret stash of junk food.” You pulled the cork out of the tequila bottle with your teeth and drank straight from the bottle.

Several smooth swigs of alcohol and an unfortunate brain freeze later, you and Rafael sat in front of the fire and swapped war stories. Although he had briefly mentioned being cheated on by his childhood ex-girlfriend, Yelina; tonight he shared more with you than he ever had with anyone. How heartbroken he was. The humiliation. How after such a betrayal he wondered if he ever could trust someone ever again.

Likewise, you felt safe enough to stop skirting around the ex situation and finally tell the truth about Theo. “We were supposed to go to some bakery in Staten Island to sample cakes for our wedding, but Theo told me he wasn’t feeling well and asked if we could reschedule. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.” You snorted a laugh as you scraped the last bit of ice cream out of the container. “How stupid was I?”

“Hey, don’t talk about my girlfriend that way.” Rafael wiped away a spot of chocolate chocolate chip ice cream on the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Later on that day, I came home with some ribollita and tea.”

“Ribollita?”

“It’s an Italian bread and vegetable soup. My mom would make it for us whenever we’re sick or sad,” you explained.

“When I walked inside, I saw a trail of clothes and heard a girl’s giggle coming from down the hall. I followed the sound, opened the bedroom door, and saw him with Lacey. The 21 year old bimbo who worked at the dry cleaners down the street,” you said in such a bitter tone that Rafael could feel the acerbic bite in his bones. Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned.

“It had been going on for months. Apparently, she had been doing way more than spot treatments and pressing his pants. I dumped the soup on his 500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, threw the ring at his forehead, and left. He never followed me. He never fought for us.” You shook your head and took another shot of tequila when your phone began to buzz and dance across the floor. It was your brother. Since leaving your parents’ house he had called ten times-- a new record for him.

Rafael watched as you shut off your phone and tossed it over to the couch. While Sonny was not his favorite person by any means, he knew how important your brother was to you. The last thing he wanted out of this relationship was to come between you and your family. Not only did he firmly believe they would despise him for it, but above all else he had a gnawing fear that you would resent him for driving that wedge. “You know, you’re going to have to talk to him eventually.”

You scoffed, “I never want to speak to Sonny again. I hate him.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

You rolled your eyes. As usual Rafael was right, but that didn’t mean you had to give in and be the first person to offer an olive branch. Sonny was a colossal jerk and he needed to learn a lesson.

“He’s just looking out for you,” Rafael continued. “In his own sick and twisted way.”

You arched a brow at your boyfriend. “So how much did you overhear when Sonny and I were in the kitchen?”

Rafael shrugged and averted his gaze, suddenly incredibly fascinated with the pattern on your rug. “Not much. Snippets really.”

“So pretty much all of it?”

“Pretty much,” he confirmed. “Did...did you ever love him?”

There was a pregnant pause before you responded. Rafael stared into the fire, watching the flames dance and flicker, unable to face you. Of course he already knew the answer was yes. You were a hopeless romantic. But the idea of you loving another man, planning a future with them, made his stomach knot up.

“I thought I did once. But it was different. I can see that now.”

Rafael nodded thoughtfully and grabbed the ice cream carton and bottle of tequila to take back into the kitchen. “How so?”

“Theo and I grew up together. We were childhood sweethearts. The only reason we got engaged is because that’s what people expected of us. It was the next step. But looking back, I realized I was complacent and complacency does not equal love.”

You glanced over at a picture on the coffee table of you and Rafael. You had taken it one lazy Sunday morning in bed, Rafael was kissing your cheek, his bed head sticking out in all directions while you were laughing hysterically. What the picture didn’t capture was that he was tickling that one spot right under your ribcage. You smiled fondly at that happy moment frozen in time. “Love should be scary. It’s taking chances. It’s thrilling. I never felt that with Theo. I feel all those things when I’m with you. I love you.”

Rafael walked back into the living room, completely stunned by your declaration. “What did you say?”

“I love you?” you said with a shrug, feeling a wave of nerves. Perhaps you had jumped the gun.

Rafael plopped down on the rug beside you. He had realized early on in the relationship that he loved you, but always chalked it up to indigestion and brushed his feelings aside. He never believed you would reciprocate so soon. “Are you sure?” He turned towards you and cupped your face. “This isn’t just the tequila and ice cream talking. You’re not drunk or on a raging sugar high?”

You giggled and mimicked his movements, cupping his cheeks. “I promise I am not under any influence of any kind. I love you, Rafael Barba. With every fiber of my being, I love you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek which he brushed away. “I love you too.” He leaned forward and captured your lips with a kiss. Parting your mouth with his tongue, his touch was gentle yet commanding. Your toes were beginning to curl.

A heat crept up your body and you started to undo the top few buttons of your dress. Out of the corner of his eye, Rafael spied a flash of emerald green against your skin and stopped his ministrations.

“What’s the matter?” you asked out of breath.

He ignored your question and tugged your dress aside a little more, revealing the silk emerald green corset. The corset that you had taunted him with when you invited him to lunch on Sunday. The corset that he had envisioned ripping to shreds with his teeth.

You giggled and blushed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “With all the drama, I forgot I had this on.”

“You mean...you wore this to church?”

You slowly nodded your head. “And to my parents’ house.”

Rafael was already rock hard, but now he was on the brink of coming in his pants at the mere thought of you wearing this sinful lingerie underneath your demure dress all day-- piously praying at St. Thomas; helping your mother with her marinara sauce in the kitchen. “Stand up so I can see you better,” he gruffly commanded.

You obeyed and slowly went back to the task of removing your dress. “Stop,” he said and replaced your hands with his. “Let me.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest at his request. A tiny whimper escaped your throat as he peeled your dress off. Rafael’s hands were trembling with each button. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen you naked before, but this time felt different. He was nervous. Locking eyes with you, he could see you were nervous too.

Once your clothes were shed, he drank you in from head to toe--from how that particular shade of green complimented your skin, to your hard nipples poking through the silk and lace, all the way down to the black thigh high stockings connected to your garters. “Eres perfecta,” he whispered, his eyes half-hooded with lust as he began to take off his clothes.

You grabbed his hands, effectively stopping him. “Allow me.” You arched your brow and began shedding layer after layer. You took your time, running your hands over his exposed flesh, feeling his firm muscles beneath your palms.

Completely lost in the sensation of your fingertips against his skin, the clanging of his belt against the floor brought Rafael back to reality. His boxer briefs were the last to go. With a flirty snap of the elastic, you rid him of his underwear, his hardened cock springing free. He toed out of his socks and stepped towards you, nudging his clothes out of the way.

You stared at each other for a long moment-- your chests heaving, bodies pulsating. The tension between you both was electric. Not wanting to wait another second, you pressed yourself against Rafael, kissing him hard, nibbling on his bottom lip. He returned the kiss with vigor. You could feel his throbbing erection weeping onto your inner thigh, brushing against your lace-covered pussy.

In awe of this beautiful man in your arms, you began to work your way down his body, laying wet wanton kisses across his skin. “Oh Y/N, please,” he whimpered. Hearing him beg, you raked your teeth against his nipple, a particular sensitive spot for Rafael. He gasped in response.

You smirked, reveling in the fact that you had reduced him to a begging, quivering mess. Kneeling before him, you took his cock in your hand and teasingly flicked your tongue against his slit.

Rafael groaned at the sight of you looking up at him with big innocent eyes and a wide welcoming mouth. From this angle, he could see the way your garters rested on the luscious curve of your ass.

You wrapped your lips around him, swirling around his crown as if you were sucking a lollipop, tracing every vein.

Rafael threw his head back and groaned, “Ay Dios mío.”

His cock felt hot and heavy in your mouth, you relaxed your throat as you slowly swallowed him down, pushing his head past your tight ring of muscle. Your nose was tickled by his trimmed pubic hair. He held your head there for a moment, relishing in the sensation.

You smacked his ass and grabbed a handful of his flesh before pulling off him with a pop. “Fuck my mouth, mi amor,” you purred while stroking his length. “Don’t hold back. I want all of it.”

He wrapped his hand around your long locks and fed you his cock. “You naughty little girl,” he growled before thrusting. “Going to put that mouth of yours to good use.”

“Mmmhmm,” you moaned. Tears were running down your cheeks as you gagged around him, taking everything he had to give. You loved when Rafael got rough. You craved it. Giving him pleasure brought you pleasure.

One of your hands reached up to massage his balls while the other reached in between his legs, pressing down on that strip of skin between his cock and his ass. That was all it took for Rafael to come undone. His cock swelled and released. His warm seed splashing against your tongue. Rafael came so hard, he was practically bent in half, clutching the mantle, grunting over and over again. You sucked him dry, not stopping until he gently pulled you off his sensitive cock.

“Jesus Christ,” he chuckled. “You have a mouth like a vacuum cleaner.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” you asked, wiping away some of your smudged lipstick.

“I nearly had a heart attack just now, what do you think?” He had an evil glint in his eye and took several steps towards causing you to scoot back. “I think I need to repay the favor. Don’t you?”

“Only if you insist.” You laid back down on the floor in your most seductive pose.

Rafael knelt down. “Oh believe me”-- he grabbed your legs and pulled you towards him causing you to squeal in surprise--“I insist.”

He ran his hands across your body, pressing against your form through the silk. Wanting to repay you for your earlier torment, Rafael took his time disrobing you--tugging at the laces of your corset, unsnapping your garters, peeling your stockings off. There wasn’t an inch of skin left unattended from the crown of your head down to the arches of your feet.

You couldn’t catch your breath. “Payback is a bitch,” you thought as he sucked a mark onto your right hip. Rafael saved your thong for last, opting to tear it off you with his teeth.

He parted your folds, revealing your glistening pink pearl, stroking your soft, wet, sex. You spread your legs wider, feeling his hot breath on your pussy, arching your hips toward him. He clucked in disapproval. “So impatient.”

“Please,” you whimpered. “I need you.”

Unable to resist any longer (after all, he was only human), he began to worship your core. Offering his tongue as a prayer as he swirled around your lower lips and traced patterns on your clit.

You grinded against him. “More,” you pleaded.

With a loud squelch, Rafael stopped and lifted his head. “You have such a perfect little pussy. I love it so much”--he playfully bit down on your inner thighs-- “and it’s all mine. Isn’t it?” With an intense, heated stare, he spit on your pussy. The sensation of his saliva on your swollen clit caused you to jump.

“Yes, it’s yours,” you wailed.

“That’s right,” he cooed while slowly making concentric circles on your bundle of nerves, watching how his spit mingled with your dripping juices. “And you’re gonna come all over my face, aren’t you?”

You arched your back and gasped. “Oh God, yes! Yes!

“Shhh, that’s my good girl,” he said with a smirk before devouring you once more. Your moans of “More” and “Don’t stop” spurred him on.

With his mouth wrapped around your clit, he penetrated you with his fingers, stroking that spot deep within you that drove you insane. One crook of his finger had you coming with a shriek.

Feeling your core pulse against his tongue as he fucked you through your orgasm unleashed something savage within him. He buried his face against you, groaning, his lips and chin completely coated in your arousal. Already hard from eating you out, he rutted against the rug, desperate for some relief.

His tongue was relentless while he fucked you with his fingers until he ripped another orgasm from you. By the third time you had come, you melted onto the floor. And yet you wanted more. With Rafael, it was never enough.

You pushed him off you and straddled him, kissing him with such fierce passion he toppled back to the floor. “I want to show you how much I love your cock.” You nuzzled your nose with his before sitting up and dragging your center against his length. Hovering over his cock for a moment, you lowered yourself onto him.

Rafael grabbed your hips to keep you in place as he rotated his pelvis, wanting you to feel every inch of his cock. Your whole body shuddered. Digging your nails into his chest, you began to rock against him.

Rafael groaned, watching you fuck him. “Look down, querida. Look at how fucking sexy you look riding me.”

You followed his gaze down to where you were being impaled by him. Biting back a whimper, you experimentally flexed your muscles, squeezing against his cock. Rafael choked out a sob which only encouraged you to speed up your movements.

You lifted almost completely off him before slamming back down.

Flames licked at your flesh as you continued to bounce on his cock. Rivulets of sweat dripped off of you, one drop running down your chest. Rafael sat up and caught it with his tongue, holding you close as he latched on to your nipple, suckling against the hardened bud before repeating his actions on your other breast.

Your bodies worked in tandem, pushing and pulling. You were reduced to a wild animal, clawing at Rafael. Red streaks covered his sweaty skin. He loved it, wanting nothing more than to be claimed by you, his own ethereal goddess.

“Rafael!” you cried out in a hoarse voice. He cut you off with a searing kiss.

“I love you,” he moaned against your lips.

“I love you too.” Tears began to run down your cheeks. Your heart was beating fast, blood pounding in your ears, pressure mounting. You were too far gone by this point. Can you die from pleasure? Oh...but what a way to go.

He pulled back, forcing you to lock eyes with him. His eyebrows furrowed, mouth slack, panting and whimpering with every thrust. You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths mingling. This was beyond the physical. Your souls were melding, transforming one another.

You simultaneously erupted, swallowing each other’s moans and grunts, stroking each other through your respective releases. When you finally floated back down to earth, you collapsed on the floor, your bodies still connected.

“Holy shit,” you sighed.

“I know,” Rafael panted.

“If I knew saying ‘I love you’ would lead to mind blowing sex, I would’ve said it a whole lot earlier,” you teased.

“I knew you were only after me for my body.” Rafael let out a breathless laugh and tickled that one spot on your side. Exhausted and not in any hurry to move, you both laid there as the fire weakened until only a few dull embers glowed.

You nestled against his chest, having never felt so happy. As cheesy and cliché as it sounded, you wish you could stay that way forever. That is until the events from earlier in the day came floating back into your mind. You had no idea what you were going to do with your family, especially Sonny.

But that wasn’t a question for tonight. Right now you were perfectly content being wrapped up in your own little world. Just you and Rafael.

Tag List: @glimmerglittergirl @southern-magnolia @sweetcannolicarisi @delia26 @obfuscateyummy @sass-and-suspenders @eclecticminded @thatesqcrush @katmstanton @amirightcounsellor @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @sweetsummertime99 @burningsorr0ws @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @babypink224221 @livxrafa @esparza-army @obsessionprofessional @ottosuricato @mgarner1227 @dreila03 @tropes-and-tales @thecraziestcrayon @goodluckfindingone @scarletsoldierrr @youreverycolor @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii @imagine-all-the-imagines @imjustreallynosy @graniairish @ashley-chi @lolacolaempath @cocomel0613 @imagine-all-the-imagines @mysterioustrashadventures @that-girl-named-alex @scapricciatello @mrsrafaelbarba @zizzlekwum @katierpblogg @crowleysqueenofhell @caked-crusader @garturbo

#rafael barba #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba fic #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fan fiction #barba #barba imagine #barba fanfic #barba x reader #sonny carisi #law and order svu imagine #law and order svu fic #taking chances

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racebox-of-higgars · 4 years ago

Text

Why Was I Not Cut Out For The Task?

The final (at the moment) fic in the “Unkindest Cut Of All” series.

MAJOR SUICIDE TW - DO NOT READ IF THIS COULD BE TRIGGERING FOR YOU. Please stay safe, and my DMs are always open if you need to talk.

Summary: "Spot slumped onto the couch, cradling the jacket against his chest as he finally let the tsunami past its barriers and everything came over him at once, wave after wave of unrestrained, gasping sobs that wouldn’t let him come up for air, not once. Each one hurt more and more than the last, as tears flowed down his face, hot and unrelenting."

Spot finds out that Race is gone, and does his best to cope.

Based on the poem "Straw House, Straw Dog" by Richard Siken, with some influence from the song No Children by The Mountain Goats. Title from Turtles All The Way Down by Sammy Copley.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31475210

@angelslibrary

It had been two days since Spot had last heard from Race. “You can sleep now.” That was the last message he had received. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn’t have been worried, but this was Race, who spammed him with 47 texts a minute at the best of times, but all he got was radio silence. So the fear slowly sank in, settling deep in the pit of his stomach and staying there, something he was only vaguely aware of at the edges of his consciousness. It crept in, until it became all he could think about.

Yesterday: 11:32am

You: Race, you okay?

Yesterday: 1:56pm

You: Can you just text me back? Let me know you’re okay? I want to talk to you about something.

Yesterday: 4:23pm

You: I’ll tell you now. I’m going to come out to my parents, and our friends. You won’t have to hide anymore

Yesterday: 11:18pm

You: Goodnight Racer, I love you

Today: 3:36am

You: Tony, I’m really fucking worried now. Please just tell me you’re okay

Today: 3:37am

You: Tony please

Today: 3:37am

You: Tony?

Today: 10:55am

You: Sorry for blowing you up last night. Are you alright?

You: 7 unanswered calls

Tony wasn’t answering. He wouldn’t pick up the phone. Why wouldn’t he pick up? He hadn’t even been online, which was out of character, since Race could nearly always be found endlessly scrolling Instagram or TikTok. Something was incredibly wrong, but Spot could not work out what, so instead he just sat there, going over every possible bad thing that could’ve happened and praying none of it was true as he couldn’t do anything but wait.

At around 2pm, just as Spot was getting ready to send yet another text, a knock sounded at his door. He half expected to see Race standing on the other side (he had a habit of showing up unannounced), but not Jack. He definitely didn’t expect to see Jack Kelly at his doorstep, with no warning, no reason to be there.

See, he and Jack had never gotten along well once. At best, they tolerated each other, at worst, they beat the shit out of each other. They tried to stay relatively civil for Race’s sake, but that didn’t mean that they had to actually like one another. They had a mutual agreement to not kill each other as long as it would make Race happy. That’s just how they worked.

“Why are you here? Where’s Race, he hasn’t answered me in days?” Jack’s face fell and he almost broke there and then, but he schooled his features into something carefully apathetic.

“I’ll explain, I just- you might want to sit down.” Spot frowned, but sat down on the sofa, whole body tense as the fear crept in again. Jack sat opposite him and set down the bag he had been carrying beside him.

Jack looked oddly serious, which was too out of character for Jack for it to go unnoticed.

“What’s going on?” Spot asked. Jack pulled a folded piece of paper out of the bag and handed it to Spot silently. Spot frowned in confusion as he unfurled it, eyes scanning over Race’s looping scrawl.

Spot. I want to open this by saying that I love you, and I’m sorry.

I’m sorry we could never have that future that you wanted. I’m sorry for tearing everything apart, over and over and over.

Spot shut down. He didn’t scream or cry or throw things, he was just unsettlingly silent. The pain crashed over him in waves, each one stronger than the last, but still, he couldn’t cry. He was just numb as his world came tumbling down around him. He seemed to collapse in on himself, as his shoulders slumped and his whole body seemed to cave in with the weight of the world. His hands trembled slightly as he kept reading.

You’re everything to me. I need you to know that. I know that I’m unlovable, I have for a while, but you made me forget that for a beautiful, fleeting moment. For the first time in my life I felt worthy of love, and it was because of you, and I can’t thank you enough for that. You gave me some of my best memories and feelings and you are unattainable and you have a million reasons to throw me aside but you don’t, for some illogical reason that I can’t fathom, and there will never be the words to describe how I feel about you. Just know that I love you beyond what should be possible.

Spot was completely numb as his eyes scanned the words on the page without actually reading them. He took nothing in, he couldn’t. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak. Cold hands seemed to wrap around his throat, squeezing tightly as it stole his breath. Fuck, he couldn’t breathe. He couldn't do anything but stare at the words in front of him as they swum through his blurred vision. Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK. Everything was spinning and falling apart around him and there was nothing he could do to stop it or try to hold everything together. There was no putting this back together.

I am drowning, Spot, and there’s no sign of land. I was crashing and burning and bringing you down with me, hand in unlovable hand. I’m sorry for hurting you in all of this. This isn’t how it was supposed to end, but it was inevitable.

Y’know, our friends always say that there’s light at the end of the tunnel, just hold on, but I think they’re wrong. There is no light at the end of my tunnel. It just gets darker and darker and darker with no escape. This was my only escape, and I’m sorry it came to this. There was nothing else for me to do. It should never have ended like this, it wasn’t supposed to, but I couldn’t stop it. I wish things were different and we could’ve had forever.

Spot couldn’t help but think about the life they had planned, down to the most meticulous details. He had never thought it would happen exactly as they had talked about, that seemed impossible. All the best laid plans get torn apart anyway, but he hadn’t expected them to get torn apart in this way. He thought they would at least have a future.

There are a million things I could say here, but they would all be cliche, and I know you find those disgusting so I’ll keep this short. I love you. I love you so fucking much and I’m so sorry that things had to end this way. I’ll never stop loving you, I will until I can’t anymore. I hope that I’ll get to see you again someday, but until then, please know that I love you so fucking much, I always will.

Spot didn’t know what to do. Everything spun around him. He felt sick as the ground shifted under his feet and everything was just off-kilter and he couldn’t think or breathe or do anything but sit there and read the words that made him sick to his stomach.

I want you to have my jacket. I hope that someday you’ll have the courage to wear it.

I love you,

Tony.

The note slipped from Spot’s hand as he stared blankly at the air where it had been. Jack pulled Race’s jacket out of the bag and handed it to Spot.

“He- uh- he wanted you to have this,” Jack said, utterly out of his depth, with no idea what to say or do. All he knew is that they were going through the same loss, the same pain, with no way out. Spot took it from him, holding it gently, as if it were made of glass. It still smelled like Race.

“I’d like to be alone, please,” he said, voice hoarse with the difficulty of holding back an ocean.

“Are you sure that’s for the best?” Jack asked, brows furrowed with concern. He never thought he would be worried for Spot Conlon, but he also never thought something like this would happen.

“Leave me the fuck alone, Kelly!” Spot shouted. Jack held his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay. Just- text me if you want to talk? Please?”

“Get the fuck out.” Jack took that as a no.

Spot slumped onto the couch, cradling the jacket against his chest as he finally let the tsunami past its barriers and everything came over him at once, wave after wave of unrestrained, gasping sobs that wouldn’t let him come up for air, not once. Each one hurt more and more than the last, as tears flowed down his face, hot and unrelenting.

He didn’t know how long he cried for, but he couldn’t cry anymore. Now he just felt empty, hollow. His head hurt with the force of his sobs and his chest hurt from trying desperately just to breathe, but that wouldn’t bring Race back. Nothing would. He was gone.

Spot’s days were monotone. Wake up, have a coffee, watch mindless TV to block out the screaming thoughts that clawed at his mind, dream. Wake up, have a coffee, watch mindless TV to block out the screaming thoughts that clawed at his mind, dream. Wake up, have a- stop. He couldn't break the cycle. Over and over again the same things, as if he was going through the days on autopilot.

His dreams were the only thing that changed. Visions of memories, both good and bad - Race bathing in sunlight. Race’s tears mixing with the rain. Race dancing in the fields. Race collapsed at the bottom of some deep pit. Race’s eyes in the light of a bonfire, his head thrown back with laughter. Race about to burn. Race burning up (he seemed to smile from the centre of his fire). Race, Race, Race. He didn’t stop, didn’t leave Spot alone.

Spot remembered their last conversation. It was burned into his mind. Race, lying on his chest, tracing patterns on his collarbone.

“I want an adventure.” He had said. “I want to feel alive.”

“So have an adventure,” Spot answered. Race’s lips upturned into a cold, cold smile.

“Watch me, Spot. I’ll have the adventure of a lifetime.” He had the greatest adventure, the adventure to end a lifetime.

Every night was the same. Endless dreams, endless nightmares, endless visions of Race’s face and god all Spot wanted to do was reach out and touch him and know that he was there but every time he tried he disappeared in his arms. Spot was falling and falling and falling and Race couldn’t catch him because Race was dead.

Race had wanted to be cremated, so they cremated him and as Spot looked at the ashes he thought about the dream of Race smiling at him through the flames that consumed him. It was a sick sort of thing, really. They scattered the ashes in the wind by the sea. The sea like his eyes, alight with a fire gone out too soon. It was all too soon. Too much, too fast. They were too young to be feeling grief like this.

“I want an adventure.” Those words echoed over and over in Spot’s mind, the forlorn way Race had said them, as if longing for a childhood gone too soon. Spot thought them over, turning them over and over in his head before he came to his conclusion. He would have the adventure Race didn't get.

He found himself in the woods. Trees surrounded him, shrouding him from the outside world and birds sang from their nests. He ran through the trees, leaping over roots and straying from the beaten dirt path into unmarked territory. Birds flew from their nests as he passed and sticks and leaves crunched underfoot. He ran and he ran and he knew that Race wouldn’t be there to catch him if he stumbled, like the many times he had been before, but he didn’t care. His lungs burned, his legs burned, and Race was still smiling at him through the flames and this time Spot smiled back.

Spot had his adventure. It wasn’t the one he wanted, but it was the only one he was able to have.

Race was always there in some corner of his mind, like a fever Spot just couldn’t break, but he was learning to live with it. He was learning to live with the cold sweats and headaches and tremors, learning to live with the pain. It wasn’t going to go away, it never would, but he could learn to accept it as part of himself. Race would always be there, but his presence was one Spot could live with.

That didn’t make it any easier though. Spot couldn’t do anything. He was completely numb, no matter what he tried to make himself feel alive. He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t do anything, it wasn’t like he wanted to anyway. He just lay there in bed, with Race’s jacket in his arms as the scent of Race overtook him and he listened to the blood pound in his eyes because that’s all he had the energy for. He tried to fix things, over and over, but there’s no fixing or bringing back the dead, and no matter how much Spot tried, Race was still dead, still gone.

He was dead, but still everywhere. Still hurt. Race tore everything in half. There was no putting it back together as Race burned it all down and Spot couldn’t rid himself of that nightmare, Race smiling back at him through the flames, a look in his eyes just like the one he had when he had told Spot to, “Watch me.” It coaxed Spot in, and made him want to follow. With those slightly upturned lips and the flames dancing in his eyes, who wouldn’t want to follow him? But Spot couldn’t, he knew he couldn’t.

Even so, he held onto that jacket like a lifeline. It was all he had left. The one thing he hadn’t lost to those cruel, merciless flames. It was the only thing that made him think, I don’t have to follow. I’ll wait. I have this piece of Race to keep me here, Race wouldn’t have given it to me otherwise. He could hold on, as long as he had this part of Race to keep him here. It was a choice, really. Follow Race, or try to make some good out of the worst situation possible. Whichever one takes over, whichever one you feed, that would decide how the rest of Spot’s life would go. He could maybe do something good with this. He looked at the jacket, and he knew Race had left it to him for a reason, he had wanted Spot to find the courage in himself to be out and proud.

He still couldn’t wear it, though.

He had to do something. Everything was slowly becoming too much. Spot stood in the rain as it slammed the pavement, soaking his skin, soaking his clothes, freezing him to the bone but he couldn’t move, couldn’t think. He felt alive as he stood out there, for the first time in months since Race had gone. He had thought it was getting easier to wake up each day, but it hadn’t. He hadn’t felt alive in so long, it was a shock to his system. He let the rain seep through his clothes and relished in the way he shivered against the bitter cold and the sky was black with thick, dark clouds and there was nothing but him, the sky, and the never ending rain.

The rain gave way to snow.

Had it been a year already? Spot stood under the fire-coloured sky as the snow came down around him in a sheet of pearlescent white. He wrapped Race’s jacket tighter around himself, inhaling Race’s scent that had mostly faded or given way to his own, despite how much Spot had tried to preserve it. It had taken a year, one of rain and blue skies (like Race’s eyes, Spot couldn’t help but think) and terrible storms and snow, but Spot had finally found it within himself to wear the jacket. The pride pins glistened proudly under the cold winter sunlight, and Spot’s courage surged. They were all so very Race, wearing the jacket made him feel as though Race was right there with him, holding his hand through everything. Spot smiled.

#suicide tw #sprace #spot conlon x racetrack higgins #newsies #racetrack higgins #spot conlon #jack kelly #newsies fanfiction #fanfiction #angst

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littlemoonchildbear · 4 years ago

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That Night - Hvitserk x Reader

Author’s note: English is not my first language and this is the first time I write something entirely in English and not translated from Portuguese (my mother tongue). So, if there’s something Grammarly wrong or that doesn’t make sense, please tell me and I’ll do my best to correct it. This way you help me improve my skills. This is also the first time I write for Vikings, so maybe all of them are a little out of character. This scene just didn’t get out of my head and I really wanted to write it, then, I did it. I also love Hvitserk and I think there are not enough works for him out there and I wanted to leave my contribution.

Words: 1631

Warnings: brief mention of first time and light insinuation of sex

Gif’s credits: @timotay-chalamet

You are like a sister to the Ragnarssons. Ragnar kind of adopted you when you were very young. You were one of the few victims that escaped the slaughter in the Viking settlement in England. For some reason, Ragnar didn’t kill you as he did with the old man, and because you were too young your memories of your real family and what happened in that horrible day got confused in your head and just get cleared when Ragnar came back and everybody in Kattegat discovered what their leader had been hiding from them.

Now, here you were seated with your brothers Ivar and Hvitserk in the city of York. After the revenge of Ragnar’s death and your revenge against king Ecbert. After Ubbe tried to negociate with the Saxons and, obviously, he failed.

While eating you could see that Hvitserk was restless. He wanted to say something to Ivar but needed to gain courage for that.

You were very proud of him. Finally, for the first time in forever, he did something for himself and didn’t let Ubbe decide for both of them.

Since you’re a child you loved all of the boys, you had a different love for each of them. If you were the mother that Sigurd needed when Aslaug was too busy with Ivar, Ubbe was like a father for them. You always saw Ubbe like a partner that you could always count on.

Sigurd and Ivar were your babies. You always tried to make them be friendly with each other and for a long time you blamed yourself for the death of Sigurd. Until now this feeling didn’t vanish completed.

And Hvitserk… well… you have always felt different about him. You’ve always loved him more than a brother, but he’s always been Ubbe’s dog. You wanted a man that could make his own decisions. Maybe he was becoming this man now.

After playing with his hands he finally said what he was craving in his mind.

“So, the hunting party did not return today.”

Ivar ignored him and continued to eat. He tried again.

“I said, the hunting…”

“I heard what you said.” Ivar interrupted him

“We are almost out of food. And there is sickness in the town. What are we going to do? We have to do something. The Saxons are in their own country. They can be reinforced and grow stronger, while every day we just grow weaker...”

“What are you really saying, huh, brother?” said Ivar hitting the table “That I was wrong not to negotiate with the Saxons, and that Ubbe was right?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Here we go again...” you mumbled

“No.” said Hvitserk tired of Ivar’s assumptions

“No? Are you sure?”

“Ubbe was wrong. That’s why I didn’t sail with him.”

“Are you sure? Wasn’t it because of a certain fierce shieldmaiden?” Ivar provoked him glimpsing at you “Do you regret it?”

“I just told you no. Ubbe treated me like his little faithful dog. I am no one’s dog, Ivar.”

Ivar nods his head without saying anything. He gets the cup of ale from the table and brings closer to his mouth, but before he can drink it he lightly barks.

“Woof, woof.”

He tries to hold his laugh, but it doesn’t happen and then, all the men in the room are laughing too.

Hvitserk feels embarrassed. He stood up, got his sword on the table, and stormed away.

The men keep laughing even when he is already gone and at some point, you can’t hold it anymore.

“Shut up you all!” you scream angrily

In seconds everybody is quiet again, even Ivar don’t dare to say a thing.

“Why don’t you trust him Ivar?” you asked

“I trust him.”

“No, you don’t. And from what I can see you don’t trust me either, because you clearly have a plan and you are not telling neither Hvitserk nor me.”

Ivar stopped drinking and looked at you seriously. You stood up and walked until you were face to face with him. You put your hands on the table. Then, you whispered.

“I know you enough to know that you have a brilliant idea of how to defend this city. So, why you don’t tell me?” you got even closer and whispered in his ear “We are on the same side Grumpy Boy.”

You fixed your eyes on his. He didn’t turn his eyes away from yours. In a few seconds, he was smiling, really smiling not that malicious smile he used to give the others. At that moment you could see your Grumpy Boy was still there.

“I’ll tell you two soon, don’t worry. I just need a little more time.”

“You can always trust me, Ivar.” You put your hand on his “Everything I did and still do is for the best of our family.”

“I know. I’ve always trusted you. You’ve always been my sister.”

“And you’ve always been my Grumpy Boy.” you said caressing his cheek “Now” you held his chin with your fingers “stop teasing your brother. For the first time in his life, he decided something without Ubbe. He’s here because he believes and trusts on you.”

“I still think he stayed for you…” he said almost singing and resting on his chair looking at her behind his cup of ale.

You sighed and seated on the table crossing your arms.

“He didn’t.”

“Of course, he did! Weren’t you the first woman he bedded?”

“Ivar, this is none of your concern. How do you even know that?”

“Let’s just say that he let it slip from his lips when we, Ubbe and Sigurd were talking about Margrethe.”

“What this bitch has to do with me?” you said frowning your brow

“Nothing.”

“So…”

“What is important is” he interrupted “he likes you. I dare to say he even loves you. He’s always loved.”

“If you are so sure about it tell me, why he didn’t tell me anything in all these years?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“Right. Look Ivar. I’m going to find him and try to convince him to not leave us not because of the rubbish you said to me, but because of how stupid you were to him.”

“It’s alright. Keep lying to yourself. But I know what is going to happen tonight. You’ll be his Valkyrie while you ride him like a stallion.”

“Shut up Ivar…” you hissed

You left the hall hearing Ivar’s lightly laugh.

You searched for Hvitserk all evening and just found him late at night. You finally find him at the curtain wall looking at the sky. You climbed there quietly trying not to scare him and then you accidently heard his praying to Odin.

“Lord Odin, did I make the right choice? Give me a sign. Help me. What is my fate?” he pleaded

You didn’t have time to make a normal approach. You heard arrows coming his way. Before they could bury in his head you pushed him to the ground falling above him.

“That was close.” You locked eyes with him “What were you doing here? Want to kill yourself?”

“Thank you Y/N…” he said mesmerized by you

“What’re you doing?”

You rolled off of him and sited by his side bending your knees and leaning your arms on them.

Hvitserk was next to you with his legs stretched.

“I was talking to the Gods… asking them for a sign that I did the right choice…”

“And did you?”

He sighed, resting his head on the wall, before speaking.

“I’m not sure anymore… do you think you did the right thing?”

You rested your head on the wall as well and looked at the starless sky.

“I don’t think Ubbe did the right thing… I mean, they killed our people once, they killed our king and father… and we did the same… I don’t think they would give us land this easy… definitely not.”

“Do you still trust Ivar?”

“I know Ivar has an incredible mind, he’s really good with strategies and I know Ragnar saw that he could do much more then what everybody thinks of him, but… I feel this is turning his mind sick… I can’t leave him yet…”

“Because of this, you didn’t follow Ubbe.”

“Yeah… I feel I’m losing my Grumpy Boy…”

“I miss the time that my only concern was what I would eat at dinner.”

“You mean ‘what’ or ‘who’ you would eat?”

Hvitserk giggled.

“Maybe both…” he said licking his lips

“You’re unbelievable…” you gave him a light punch on his shoulder

“I learned with the best.”

“Speaking of which, you told your brothers I was the first woman you bedded?” you said looking at him and folding your arms

“Well…” he scratched his nape “I, accidently, let it slip when we were talking about Ivar bedding Margrethe… sorry.”

“It’s alright, you are forgiven.”

“I wish we could come back that night…” you two locked eyes “Everything was perfect…” he whispered looking at your lips

“Well… we can’t go back to that night…” you left your sit and straddled his lap. You put one hand on his shoulder and the other on the wall. You came closer to his face and before your lips touched you bring your lips to his ear and whispered.

“I heard you had practiced since then… why don’t you show what you’ve learned?”

You looked at him for the last time and before he could hold you and kiss you stood up from his lap and started climbing down the stair you used to get up there. Hvitserk ran right after you.

Ivar could be wrong letting Ubbe go like that, but in one thing he was more than right. This night, you’d be a Valkyrie again, and Hvitserk, wouldn’t mind being your stallion.

#hvitserk #vikings #hvitserk x reader #reader insert #Ivar #Ubbe #hvitserk oneshot #reader #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk x female reader #my first story #my first one shot #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk imagine #vikings hvitserk #history vikings #imagine vikings

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aslihanxfahri-bailey · 3 years ago

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more than life itself || self para

Prompt: Travel back in time watching a video of a then-eight months pregnant Abigail Bailey, recording a video intended for Alex. Abi’s pregnancy was faced with a lot of challenges and problems that could’ve resulted in her dying.

Trigger Warnings: pregnancy, death, and labour mention

For as long as Abigail can remember, she’s created a baby box for Alex. Admittedly, it was more so of a childhood box; But nevertheless, in it, held memories. Alex’s favourites over the past five years, remnants of her nursery then her bedroom. Toys, clothes, a binkie, her favourite book. Anything that she wasn’t still using (such as her crocheted blanket she still slept with), was added to the box. Along with a scrapbook, filled with pictures all the way from when Abigail was pregnant with her. Ultrasounds to Abi’s progress photos, memories from the past five years. There also held a USB in the box, holding videos from the past five years as well. First crawl, first walk, first word, first tooth: everything. But… along in the big box, there held a smaller box. A box that when you opened up, was filled with things. A list of the best places to travel to, pictures of Abigail and of Atlas (both together and separate, all from their time together back in London), a picture of Abi’s favourite wolf that Atlas showed her, a statue. And a DVD. All one needed to do was put it into a laptop or DVD player and maybe… maybe, it’ll go along the lines of something like this:

Abigail sat in a rocking chair in the nursery. Smiling softly into the video camera. Her bangs had grown out, so has her hair, and she was in soft blue sundress. Her hands were resting on the bump she has, the young archaeologist now at eight months pregnant. “Hi, Alex,” she began, head tilting softly as she looked at the camera. “My name is Doctor Abigail Bailey. I was born in Istanbul, Turkey before being raised mainly in London, England, but I also spent a good portion of my years living in Cairo, Egypt. My birthday is July 15th, 1993 and I am 23 years old. I am an archaeologist and anthropologist who specializes in ancient civilizations. And I am your mother. I know that… you possibly know all these things already. I know that if you’re watching this, then, it means that… it means that I’m not with you. It means that, I died. A few weeks ago when I was still seven months pregnant with you, I discovered that I had placenta previa. Your placenta had been formed lower than usual. Placenta previa causes an abnormal amount of bleeding and it… it can be fatal. When it comes to the common symptoms and causes of it, I technically shouldn’t have it. But, I… I do. The doctor said that there is a chance that I could live. But, there’s also the chance that I couldn’t. And this… this video is meant to be a way that I could talk to you. This box,” she reached over and placed a small box on her lap, “is meant to be a way for us to still be connected, despite me not being here. I pray… God, I pray that you never have to watch this. That I am still with you years from now. But, it is better to be safe than sorry.

“Um, I guess I better start off with what’s all in here,” she mused, clearing her throat. “I, I-I wrote down a list of the best places you need to travel to at least once in your life. If you’re anything like your father and I, I am certain that you’re going to love adventure. That you’re curious to see more of the world, discover more things. I also wrote down some of the best historical books. Now, there might be a couple of books in the future that are good, so talk to your grandfather about that. But these? These are a couple of my favourites. Especially this one.” She held up a book, one that is well-read and extremely loved. Abi looked down at it and smiled softly. Her fingers tracing over the cover. “Your father… Your father wrote a note to me once in this book. It had been my favourite long before he ever did that. But… I suppose that that’s another reason why. I won’t tell you what it is; I want you to read it and find out yourself. But I hope that you’ll take a lot from it. Not just your father’s note. I also got a bunch of photographs in here featuring your father and I. We met one day at my favourite book shop. He’d asked me for advice on a history book and… Something just clicked. I felt comfortable with him, I just… I wanted to get to know him better. We went to lunch together to Pomodoro’s and eventually, I brought him back to the manor. Talked to him about all kinds of history stuff and just spending time with him. Little did we know, he would end up staying with me for three weeks. Those three weeks… I don’t think I can describe how happy I had been. Just being with him and spending time with him… I fell hard and I fell fast. I had never been through something like that before: he became my first. My first of so many things. When he had to leave, it shattered me. I wanted to go with him. I wanted to ask him to come with me to Egypt. I was suppose to be going there soon for an excavation for a couple of months and… I don’t know why I didn’t ask him. And I regret it so, so much. I wish I had the confidence to tell him everything I wanted to say. I hope that you have the confidence I lacked.”

Sniffing, Abi wiped at her eyes before breathing out a laugh. “I’m sorry,” she wiped her tears away some more. “I-I’m sorry, I… I’ve missed him so much, always hoped that I would see him again. That I would get to hold him in my arms and kiss him, that the three of us could be a family. I have been wishing for that for the past couple of months. So this…” She shook her head away. Placing the box away, she kept her eyes on the camera. “Alex, I beg of you… please don’t blame yourself for this. I love you more than life itself and I would do anything… absolutely anything… to ensure your happiness, that you’re healthy and safe. I don’t want you to bear any guilt over my not being here. I just want you to live your life and to be happy. The pregnancy… it hasn’t been an easy one. I’ve been really sick throughout it. My body has experience so much pain and trying to go about it all… it was difficult. I’ve spent a majority of my pregnancy in Egypt. Which, hasn’t exactly been the easiest thing either. But it’s okay: I’ve done everything I could to ensure that you’re okay. And I always will, alive or dead. There is still a chance that I’ll make it. We are planning on trying to do a caesarean section for labor, which could help. But I… If that happens, I’m scared about the future. I’m scared about you wanting to be a big sibling. I’m scared of wanting to have more kids. There’s a 2-3% chance that I could have placenta previa in another pregnancy. And admittedly, that terrifies me. If I make it and I want more kids in the future, I’m not sure what I’ll do. I just… I hope to come up with a plan, if that is the case. But… if I don’t make it…”

Abi sighed softly. Her fingers traced over her bump before glancing up again. “I really hope that you’re with your dad,” she whispered. “My parents promised me that they were going to tell him about you if I don’t make it. That they’ll explain everything. Your father’s name is Atlas Williams. He was born and raised in Providence Peak, Colorado. His family owns Wolf Wild Rescue and he loves those wolves so much. I remember the look on his face as he talked about the wolves and the rescue for the first time. Just how proud he was. Your father is many things, Alex. He’s passionate, he has a love for adventure. He’s curious, about the world and about history, about so many different facts and trivia. He’s loyal. He’s caring and gentle, so incredibly gentle. For a man as giant as he is, it’s incredible how gentle he truly is. Or can be. He’s got a wicked sense of humor and he’s protective. He’s also intelligent. And god, he’s handsome. He’s got these eyes that just capture you, this smile that is brighter than the Egyptian sun, this laugh that warms you right up, and his arms? When he holds you and you know that you’re safe, that you are at peace and at home? I have been everywhere in the world, but I have never felt more at peace in a place than in his arms. I know that there’s more to him. I know that he has a temper and sometimes, he’s more prone to fighting than talking. But every time he’s gotten into a fight, or at least the ones that I’ve seen, he was defending me. He isn’t great at talking, prefers to show than tell. Perhaps he’s worked on that the past couple of years, of raising you. There are probably a lot of things about him that I don’t know still. And I genuinely hope that I’ll make it and I will find out more about him. Because I know that there is more to the man than just the man I knew in London. And I’m ready to love him just as much as I love the London Atlas.”

Abigail paused for a moment. Taking a shaky breath, she looked down at her bump. Fingers softly tracing it. “Alex, if… if your father is around, can you please give me a moment to talk to him?” Her words came out in a whisper, the young woman visibly nervous. Yet as she wiped away her tears and tried to make herself presentable, she gave herself a minute. Before looking back up at the camera. And she smiled warmly. “Hey, Las.

"Before I say anything else, I want to start off by saying this: I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry for not telling you about Alex months ago. There has never been a moment where you weren’t on my mind and never a moment where I haven’t almost contacted you. E-mail you, call you through the rescue’s line, gotten on social media and hopefully find you. I… I ended up losing my phone on my way to Egypt. I don’t know how or when, but I did. And I had told you prior that I had programmed my laptop so that I could strictly do work on it, so that wasn’t an option to use to contact you either. It wasn’t until I got back here in London when I finally had the options to do so. But I… I’ve been scared. I’ve been so scared the past few months over what you would say or do. I didn’t… I-I didn’t want to face rejection. I was scared that you wouldn’t want to see me or the baby and… and I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.” It was getting harder to breathe and she wiped away her tears. “The moment I found out about Alex, though… I did have a moment of bravery. After I was released from the hospital, I made my way to the airport. I was trying to find the best flights to Denver. And for a moment, I almost did. But my mentor ended up stopping me. There’d been a big discovery at the site that I needed to see. I had work to do there, I… I was on a loan from the government and responsible for so many workers. I was paying them, responsible for them to be able to provide for their families. This was my first excavation. I couldn’t… I couldn’t leave. There was so much at stake. But I told myself that I would get a phone, contact my mother so that she could give me the information for the rescue, and I’ll call you. And I did… expect for calling you. I had a nightmare that night. I dreamt that I told you and… a-and you wanted nothing to do with us. I had a few more dreams like that that eventually bled into real life. It was all I could think about for so long that every time I tried to contact you, I got too scared. And I hate that so much. But it… it hasn’t stopped me from trying to include you, or at least your presence, in our kid’s life. Like their name, for example.

"Alex is a Greek name, meaning ‘warrior’ or ‘defender of mankind’. As of right now, I don’t know if Alex is an Alexander or an Alexandria. I came up with many different names over the past few months. A lot of them were after many different historical figures or places. However, one day during one of my last few days off, I went up to Alexandria to see some friends. Alexandria had been on my list of names, because of the infamous library and the great conqueror, but it wasn’t one I was completely set on. My friends and I went to a couple of different museums that day there, including the Graeco-Roman museum. While I had been roaming the statue garden, thinking about the baby and of you again, I stopped in front of a statue. It was the Titan Atlas, with the world on his shoulders. Standing there and looking at him, I knew instantly that the baby’s name, was Alex. In that moment, everything felt right, it… it was almost as if you were there with me. As if somehow, you had helped me pick the name. And I couldn’t pick any other name afterwards.” Laughing, she stood up and reached for the camera, taking it off the stand before showing off an area in the nursery. Right there, was a tiny statue of the Titan Atlas. “I bought it from the gift shop right afterwards,” she mentioned. She then moved back and placed the video camera back on it’s stand. Moving to sit back down, there was a visible strain on her features. She let out soft whispers and gasps as she got herself situated, pain on her face while she cradled the bump with one hand. Her eyes were shut for a moment, Abi trying to take a couple of deep breaths to soothe herself back to before. “I’m okay,” she whispered, resting her head against the chair as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I-I’m okay… Atlas, I… From the moment I found out, I tried to find ways to include you. I tried to tell you so many times over the past few months and I’m so sorry. Maybe you’ve forgiven me… Maybe you haven’t… But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.

"I wish that I could tell you that myself,” she whimpered. “There’s so much I wish I could. And I… I’m sorry that I’ve never had the courage to do so before. But I… Since I’m dead now, maybe I finally do: I’m in love with you, Atlas Williams. I wish I got to tell you that to your face, I… I wish I found your note first. Had I known, I would’ve gone straight to Denver to see you again. I’ve always wished that I got to see you again. That we could’ve gotten a real chance, that we could’ve been a family. That I could’ve gotten more time with you, fallen in love with you more. I wish that I could kiss you again. Hold your hand once more, fall asleep in your arms as you list off some random fact, how completely and wonderfully fascinated you are by it. I wish that our goodbye in the airport won’t be our last. That that wasn’t the last time you held me in your arms, that it wasn’t the last time you kissed me. I wish that I got to hear you tell me you love me instead of having to read them in a book on a flight while over Greece. I wish we had more time. I wish I got to tell you how much I love you. That I had gotten to witness us grow old together, share a life together while raising Alex. All the good and the bad moments, I wish we had gotten them together. That we gotten to stand by each other’s side and work things out together as a team. That I had gotten to know each and every single thing about you and gotten the chance to love you for everything you are, both the man in London and the man in Providence Peak. I wish we had gotten more time. I wish I told you I love you, that I’m in love with you. I’m so sorry for never saying anything. I’m so sorry it took this long. I just… I hope you forgive me. That you’ll love our child twice as hard for me. Because Alex… Alex really needs you. So much and I wish that I was there. I’m sorry that I’m not. I love you both, more than I could ever possibly say. Please don’t forget that. Can… Can you bring Alex here, please?”

She waited again, taking another moment. She wiped away her tears that she’d been crying, trying to steady her breathing. Hoping that Alex would now be watching, she placed a smile on her face again. “Alright! I just… I wanted to leave this on a high note. I’ve cried a lot in this and I… I have never cried so much before in my life. I hate it, so much. But I just wanted to say: take that list of travel ideas and go on an adventure together. Share as much of them together as possible… and think of me. Especially if you both come to Egypt. I’ve always wanted to take you both there and in a way, I will be. I’m with you both always. There’s... There’s so much I wish the three of us could’ve done. I wish that the three of us could’ve been a family. I’m so sorry for being too scared of doing anything about it, for being too late. I hope you both can forgive me eventually.” Gently, she wiped away her tears. Letting out a breathy sigh and looking at the camera softly, one hand resting on the bump and the other toying with her necklace. The young historian smiling peacefully. “Atlas and Alex Williams: I love you both more than life itself. Don’t forget that. Please don’t forget me. I love you.”

Blowing a kiss to camera, she waved and gave one final smile, before the video ended.

Abigail had spent 43 hours in labour. It had been a rather peaceful day (more or less) in the Bailey manor when Abi needed to walk, having been on bedrest for the last remaining weeks of her pregnancy. She’d been found in the library of the manor, passed out with a small pool of blood, a trail leading from the entrance to her spot. Her father, Richard Bailey, had been the one who found her and quickly took her to the nearest hospital. They had to perform an emergency C-section, delivering a healthy baby girl at 7 pounds and 6 ounces. Unfortunately, Abigail had hemorrhaged during labour and they almost lost her before they were able to stabilize her. She spent three days afterwards in a coma, her parents alternating between taking care of Alexandria Jane Williams and being there for their daughter. She eventually woke up and spent a week in the hospital regaining her strength before heading back home, where once again she spent a month on bedrest with baby Alex resting in a bassinet next to Abi’s bed. The archaeologist eventually getting her health back, all the while taking care of her daughter while loving and protecting her.

#( writings. )#tw: pregnancy #tw: death mention #tw: labour #pregnancy tw #death mention tw #labour tw

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demivampirew · 5 years ago

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Keep Calm and Go to London chapter 16

Synopsis: This is the story of (y/n), a successful actress, musician, musical producer and songwriter. After battling depression and breaking up a long relationship, she seeks for a change of air, escaping LA for a while going to visit some friends in London and there she meets Henry. -Disclaimer: some chapters are mostly smut.

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Triggers: SMUT ( s&m); use of slang and cursing words; mention of body image issues.

Disclaimer: I made this chapter as a challenge to myself. The idea was to write something inspired by songs and I’ve made a playlist with some songs which parts of the lyrics will be included on the chapter. At the end I’ll post the playlist in the order that the songs appeared. This chapter doesn’t contain vital information to the story (if so, I’ll talk about it again in another chapter), so if you are not into this type of stories, you can skip this chapter and continue with the next one.

Tag list: Here’s the incredible people who showed me support (thank you so much for that) and people who asked me to tag them too ☺️ (I think I will write a few chapters of this story, if you want me to tag you, tell me ☺️ ) @cavillanche @mary-ann84 @henry-owns-these-tatas @yespolkadotkitty @dancingwendigo constip8merm8 penwieldingdreamer iloveyouyen littlefreya wondersofdreaming alyxkbrl solariumss sweetybuzz25 @thethirstyarchive @agniavateira @honeyloverogers @hell1129-blog @lunedelorient @michelle-1185

-I've got a surprise for you tonight - you said to Henry as he was turning off the computer after playing games. - Do you? What is it about? - he asked, curious and amused. - If I tell you, it won't be a surprise, right? You replied grinning devilishly and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. - Hmmm... it's a Bond Girl type of surprise? - he questioned as he raised an eyebrow, smirking pleased by the idea. - Well, something like that. - you told him laughing. - Do I have to wear a suit or something? - Let me think... - you paused for a second- Oh... I know... Do you, by any chance, still have the shirt that you used on the video that you appeared with Simon for Vanity Fair to promote Mission Impossible? - you asked him, pouting like an innocent little girl. - The black shirt? Yes, I still got it. I'll put it on for you then. - he assured you, and you smile at him excitedly. - This is going to be a night you won't forget- you promised as you got closer to kiss him. - Oh, every night is a night that'll I never forget. I feel like I remember everything that we've done since I met you. - You're a smooth talker, aren't you Mr Cavill? - you finished as you kissed him.

The great thing about becoming confident with your body again was the fact that you felt free to show another side of you. The part of you which didn't care about anything that people might think and was not afraid to explore when it came to pleasure. When you were with your ex-boyfriend, the first years after you started dating again after a three-year break, you were this woman. You not only enjoyed sex but discover that you liked being in charge. The last years of that relationship, made you put that confident woman in a deep sleep because he failed in making you feel desire. There were periods in which you wouldn't even have sex because he was always "busy" with work. On one occasion, he completely ignored you, that was wearing sexy lingerie as if you were invisible. That affected you a lot. But now, Henry brought back that side of you. He made you feel beautiful and sexy all the time. He didn't shame you for your lust, he enjoyed it as well. His sexual side amused you a lot. He was shy, sometimes a bit too much, but at the same time, you could tell every time that you put yourself in charge of the situation that is was something new for him. He was clearly used to be the one to do most of the work in the bedroom. At first, you could feel that he was surprised by your dominance, by he enjoyed it too much and became his favourite thing. Let you choose the positions and all was something that he became accustomed to. But, he also knew that you were a sucker for his kisses, so he would use that against you to distract you and take the lead again. And you allowed him that because you adored the fact that he had the strength to take you as if you were light as a feather and move you in the position that he pleased at the moment. Between the two of you, there was no doubt that you were the one most comfortable with playing games and creating new situations for fun. This wasn't because he didn't have that on him, because as soon as you started something, he gladly played the role you assigned for him. It was mostly due to a lack of practice. Even though he admitted having one night stands on the past, he was mostly a man that preferred to exclusively being intimate with partners and his previous girlfriends apparently weren't too much into the idea of roleplay and other kinky stuff. You didn't know much about it, because he was a gentleman and respected the intimacy of his former lovers.

The night came. As soon as you finished getting ready, you texted Henry to let him know that he could come into the room. He opened the door and found a chair a few steps away from the bed. There was a note on it that read "Sit and close your eyes until you're told otherwise." He did as it was told. His heart was beating fast due to the excitement and expectation. Moments past and finally he felt the soft touch of your hands on his arms. Then, you grabbed both of his hands and put on a pair of handcuffs. You softly bite the lobule of his ear and his cheek. He laughed as an act of reflex due to the tingly sensation. "Keep your eyes closed" you ordered him as you walked away. Music started to sound in the room. It wasn't partying or romantic music. At first sounded mysterious, like the perfect for the soundtrack of a vampire movie. But, after seconds the tone change into metal. The seductive raspy voice of a woman invaded the room.

I'm the girl you've been thinking about The one thing you can't live without I'm the girl you've been waiting for I'll have you down on your knees, I'll have you begging for more. [ ... ] So how can this be, you're praying to me There's a look in your eyes, I know just what that means I can be, I can be your everything

I can be your whore I am the dirt you created I am your sinner, I am your whore But let me tell you something, baby You love me for everything you hate me for.

"Open your eyes", you ordered. He did that and saw you standing in front of him. You were wearing a black sleeveless latex bodysuit that had a plunging neckline and short boots with pointy heels. In your face, you had a lace masquerade face eye mask and a blood colour lipstick on your lips. Your hair was straight, tight in a high ponytail. You came closer to him. Slowly, place your index finger on his lips, locked eyes with him and grinning devilish. You turned around as the song finished and a new one started to play. You started to move to the sound of the music.

I must confess I'm addicted to this Shove your kiss straight through my chest I can't deny, I'd die without this Make me feel like a god Music, love and sex (Adrenalize me)

You moved sensually and slowly, touching your own body to the sound of the music and giving him looks, knowing how much he'd loved to be the one touching your body.

Get a little bit higher So we can fall 'til we bleed Push a little bit harder Pull me into the speed So tell me, can you feel this Come into my dream Are you ready to awaken? Are you ready to feed? 'Cause I need to feel Yeah, I need to say

You dropped on your knees and put your hands on the floor as well, classic doggy style position and moved erotically. You give yourself a few spanks, hard enough for him to listen to the sound of the collision of your hand with your butt, even with the loud music playing, and leaving red marks. You crawled to him placing your hands on his thighs and rubbing them. You could see that he was already hard. Lust and desire were visible on his eyes. He wanted you. He wanted you now. But the games were just starting. A new song was playing while you continue moving your hands up and down his thighs.

Is it sick of me To need control of you Is it sick to make You beg the way I do Is it sick of me To want you crawling on your knees Is it sick to say I want you biting down on me

Are you sick like me

Am I beautiful As I tear you to pieces Am I beautiful Even at my ugliest, you always say

I'm beautiful As you tear me to pieces You are beautiful Even at your ugliest, I always say You're beautiful and sick like me

As the song was getting closer to his end, you stood up again and way away from him, offering a nice view of your ass on the way and the stopped and moved your hips from side to side. The following song was from a different band, same style. This was music that Henry wasn't accustomed to, but he was still enjoying the game you were playing with him.

All I desire (Temptation) Keep climbing higher and higher (Temptation)

Adorable creatures (Temptation) (With unacceptable features (Temptation)

And trouble is coming (Temptation) It's just the high course of lovin' (Temptation)

And you can take it or leave it (Temptation) But you better believe it

As the song was playing its chorus, you got closer to him again, giving him a lap dance, close enough for him to feel the heat that your body emanated by not close enough to touch. You were driving crazy. You turned around and sit on his thighs, facing him. You kissed him and felt his desperation with the touch of his tongue with yours. You bit his chin and licked his Adam's apple. You touched the entirety of his chest. Then, you kneeled as you lift his shirt and lick and bite his chest, concentrating mostly on his nipples. He moaned louder than the heavy music playing. A new song started to play as you decided to end his suffering. Still, on your knees, you unzipped his pants and grabbed his member and started to please him with your mouth.

Beware the night Beware the night before the dawn Beware the dark when light is gone For there's a phantom lust to wake They wanna make you bend and scream They wanna take your hand and lead you in the light of Venus, girl Come let them take you for a ride Forget the lord and cross tonight And let your carnal lust prevail tonight Oh, demons come at night and they bring the end Oh, demons are a girl's best friend Oh, demons come alive and they take command Oh, demons are a girl's best friend

The song continued playing till the end, while you pleasured your boyfriend. This wasn't like other times, in which you did it slowly and tenderly. This time, you went fast and deep. Many times you went completely out of breath as you reached the base of his cock as this was inside your throat and your mouth. More than once you went as deep that you managed to licked his testicles while he was still inside of you. You took him out of your mouth, tasting the sperm coming out of him and stroking it. You stood up again and started to dance again to the music, giving him time to recover for another round.

When the night just strikes through you And the night just spreads its legs and open up for you When the day is dead to you And the silvery starlight seductively glimmers through

Its Night... Night!

When the night just comes for you And its fingers just crawl and move deep inside of you When the light is drawn from you And you sear your lips and let the sweet poison come on through

Its Night Night Electric Night

The world lies silent The night burns of wrath

You got closer to him again. You planned to uncuff him but that'd be like unleashing a savage beast. You were not planning to give him power. You made him stand up and walk to the bed, still with both of his hands tight to his back. He sat on the edge of the bed, as you open the handcuffs, realising one of his hands and tightening the other to the bed. Then you grabbed a tie from the closet and used it to trap his other hand. You sat on top of him and softly press your body against his. You kissed, licked and bite his neck for a bit and later kissed on his mouth, biting his lips now and then. After that, you unbuttoned his shirt and scratched his chest and bite his nipples. He was more than ready for the second round. You pulled the panties part of the bodysuit aside and entered Henry's cock inside of you and began to ride him. You change the pace of your movements to the rhythm of the song playing at the moment.

She looks like the girl The girl you ever wanted She looks like the girl The girl who could Give you everything And kisses run like hell And she like it She's got the look That could kill And you see the greed in her eyes It is far too late [ ... ] Too late to run Too late to hide There is no escape When she is hunting you And she is hunting you Tonight She takes everything from you She is uses you With her Body of sin You are addicted to her touch And you lose yourself in her Dangerous smile

Henry was grabbing the tie with one hand and the chain of the handcuff with the other; he was desperate to touch you, to grab you and make you his until you scream his name. You then sat on his face, letting him taste you and pleasure you. It felt so good to have his tongue inside you as well as licking and sucking your clit. After you reached an orgasm, you sucked him again before sitting on his cock for one last time.

Just a little bit, just a little, bitch You've got a pussy, I have a dick So what's the problem? Let's do it quick So take me now before it's too late Life's too short, so I can't wait [ ... ] Just a little bit be my little bitch You've got a pussy, I have a dick So what's the problem? Let's do it quick So take me now before it's too late Life's too short, so I can't wait

The last song played and you moved fast to its beat. You could feel his big and thick member inside of you, getting in and out so fast that it hurt, but you liked the pain; it felt wonderful. When you saw he was about to release, you changed position and quickly put it in your mouth, sucking him until he finished, leaving your mouth full of his cum. You shallowed it and then decided to free him. He was exhausted. His heart beat so fast all that time, so as soon as he was able to catch a breath, he fell in a deep sleep. You laughed and left him to sleep as you went to the bathroom to take off your clothes and makeup, shower and then go to sleep with him.

Playlist:

In this Moment- Whore In this Moment- Adrenalize In this Moment- Sick Like Me Cradle Of Filth - Temptation POWERWOLF - Demons Are A Girl's Best Friend Deathstars - Night Electric Night Blutengel - Vampire Rammstein- Pussy

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #demivampirew

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writerbyaccident · 5 years ago

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Twists and Turns (Yandere Goblin King/JarethxReader)

Request: Hi, you don’t have to do this but... Could you do another Jareth story? With magic and naughty stuff?

Trigger warning: nudity

You swore that the sun here was stronger than the one back home. The sun hovered directly above you, and you swore that each time you turned away it fell onto your back, burning your skin until it bled. Considering everything you had experienced in the Labyrinth, you wouldn’t be surprised to discover that was exactly what was happening. The relentless heat that clawed at you certainly did no favors to your morale, the demand to stop and rest under the shade for a moment grew by the minute. Sweat covered you so completely, mixing with the dirt and the blood, so that you could hardly feel your skin beneath it all. This, you thought wryly, would definitely be the last time you wished yourself away to the Goblin Kingdom.

The corner of the Labyrinth that you currently found yourself in didn’t seem to be much of a labyrinth at all at first glance, seeing as you were now surrounded by brittle grass and thin trees. But as you had discovered, the path was still as winding and bewildering as ever. Practically every few yards there was another fork in the road for you to choose from, working to exhaust both your body and your mind. Cursing the king who had so tauntingly sent you on this hopeless quest, you took the next right you came across. That damn Goblin King was a sadist, you were sure of it. Playing with your hopes like some toy that he didn’t care might break at any moment. No, he seemed to positively relish the thought. So focused were you on your bitter thoughts that you almost didn’t notice what had appeared just off the path. But thankfully the glint of sunlight on the water was able to catch your attention, and you turned, staring at what you first thought was some kind of mirage.

Before you stood a gorgeous waterfall, its mist shining in the air like stars. It crashed into a small, sparkling pool, the water so clear that at first you thought it to be rippling glass. The mere sight of such a treasure already had you imagining just how wonderful it would feel to slip into the water, to let the waterfall pound into you until you were finally clean. So long as you were quick, you argued to yourself, it would be alright, wouldn’t it? Besides, bathing would have you feeling refreshed and rejuvenated for the next leg of your journey.

Thoroughly convinced, you quickly stripped off your clothing, laying them on a rock at the edge of the pool. Cautiously, you dipped a toe into the water, praying that it wouldn’t be too cold. It was a bit chilly, you noted, so perhaps you ought to make your way in slowly. And so, you submerged your ankles in the pool, waiting patiently. But as you waited for your body to adjust, a strange kind of electricity began to buzz over your skin, causing the hair on the back of your neck to rise. It was a sensation you recognized, one of being watched. Eyes sifting through the trees to try to spot the one spying on you, you quickly slipped into the water, grateful for the cover it provided. Splashing and scrubbing, you washed off several grueling hours’ worth of sweat and grime. Bathing after everything you had been through felt incredible, and you soaked until your skin became sparkling clean as the pool you were in. And yet, the whole time that you washed, you could still feel someone’s eyes on you.

You forced yourself to ignore the feeling though, telling yourself that it was either paranoia or simply the watchful eye of some local beast. To be fair, you were nearly correct with that last guess, although the beast in question might have objected to your wording. Once you were satisfied with your cleanliness and were now ready to continue your quest, you waded over to the rock where you had lain your clothes. But when you reached the rock, your clothes were nowhere to be found. Turning about every which way, you tried to see if you had actually left them on a different boulder, or if the breeze had merely blown them a few feet away. No matter which way you looked though, your clothes did not appear.

“Did you lose something, pet?” a familiarly smug voice suddenly said. Utterly ambushed, you turned around to see the Goblin King himself, Jareth, standing only a few feet from the water. He gazed at you with the eyes of a starving man, but the smirk he gave as he leered at your bare flesh was that of a man who knew he was about to be fed. With him staring so nakedly at you, as if he couldn’t wait to taste each and every bit of you, you hurriedly ducked back into the water so that only your neck and face were above surface.

“Now, now, pet,” Jareth scolded smoothly, “there is no need to be shy. Soon enough, hiding will no longer be an option for you. You are a beautiful creature, so you might as well become used to my staring. For once your trial is over, I plan to stare quite often.”

“Go to hell,” you growled back, swimming up to the very edge of the pool. True, pressing yourself up against the walls of your makeshift bath brought you closer to your attempted captor, but it also further obscured his view of your naked body. Jareth, though internally annoyed that he could no longer see each enchanting inch of you, merely quirked an eyebrow.

“But if I leave here to go to hell, how will you ever find something to clothe yourself with?”

“Just give them to me,” you said in frustration, adding in a bitter, “please.”

“Give what to you, my dear?” the Goblin King grinned slyly.

“Please just give me my clothes.”

“Oh, of course,” he chuckled. “I cannot allow my little treasure to be seen so completely by my subjects, after all.” Tension leaving your shoulders, you chose to ignore his choice of words there, instead deciding to focus on the more pressing matter. But even as you stared at Jareth, waiting for him to make your clothes reappear, nothing happened.

“Well?” you prompted with clenched teeth, thoroughly sick of the wickedly handsome king treating you as some doll to play games with.

“Well?” Jareth taunted back. “I am not your servant, love, at least not yet. If you wish to have your clothes you must step out of the water and take them yourself.” The king’s mismatched eyes gleamed lustfully at you, and you nearly considered running the rest of the Labyrinth naked out of spite. But no, you reminded yourself, even when you couldn’t see Jareth, he could still be watching you. And like he said before, he loved to watch you.

“Fine,” you spat, stepping out of the pool and onto the grass. With pursed lips, you tried to ignore Jareth as he gazed at you hungrily. But no matter what you stared at or how hard you tried, you could still feel his eyes rake over each and every inch of you, the Goblin King refusing to miss a single piece. Your bare skin alone was enough to set him burning for you, but along with your shivering body and hardened nipples, Jareth could hardly contain himself. His kind were bound by ancient law though, his instincts reminded him, and so he would have to wait until you failed to complete the impossible task he had set for you. On occasion with other runners of his labyrinth, Jareth had pityingly made things ever so slightly easier for them. With you though, the Goblin King refused to lose you to the mortal realm, the mere thought of it disgusted him. And so, he had been taking every chance he could find during your trial to make things harder or to delay you, even if only for a moment. But after working so diligently to ensure that you would not escape your fate with him, Jareth felt that he had earned a reward.

“I must say, pet, you look positively delicious. I rather regret promising to gift you your clothes now, but I suppose that I will have to make do.” Mouth smiling crookedly and strange eyes gleaming in triumph, Jareth disappeared into the wind. Where he had stood just a moment before now lay a pile of clothes, a pile which you quickly tore into. But, you quickly noticed, the clothes that he had left you were not the ones he stole. Your clothes had not just barely covered the most intimate parts of you, after all. No, these lavender wisps were hardly clothes at all. About to cry out and demand that Jareth return with your actual clothes, you suddenly noticed a note underneath the pile he had left you.

Pet, it read.

As enticing as it is to see you angry, I would not waste your valuable time arguing such pointless semantics. For all you asked me to do was to give you your clothes, and so I did. These clothes are yours, they belong to you. They are the clothes you will wear once the trial is over and you are by my side where you belong. Though I am sure that you won’t be wearing them for very long.

Until then,

Your King

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staticscreenwriting · 5 years ago

Text

All you have to be is here - Part 5

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 whohas a phenomenal smile 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 5 of ?

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Had to reupload because I forgot to tag and once I added the tags it wouldn’t show up under “most recent”. Please help a girl out by reblogging. Thank you ♥

[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

The Arcade smells like sweat, cream soda and cool ranch doritos. Some radio friendly pop song is playing from the overhead stereo and the flashing lights of the games are driving Billy slightly mad.

He lets his eyes scan the room for the familiar mop of fiery red hair while his fingernails are digging into his palms creating crescent shapes on his skin. It’s a nervous habit he’s picked up a while ago.

She’s not here. She’s not here. The voices in his head call out to him as his heart speeds up beat by beat. She’s not here and you’ll have to suffer the consequences.

She’s not here and you’ll have to suffer.

There’s a guy leaning against the front desk, flicking through a magazine while stuffing his face with handful after handful of chips.

“ Hey uh— “ Billy approaches and glances at guy’s the name tag “— Keith, you seen a little girl around ? Bout this tall, red hair ? “

He’s met with a scowl and a raised eyebrow.

“ Why ? “

His blood starts to boil. The last thing he needs right now is this nerd giving him an attitude.

“ ‘cause she’s my sister and I was supposed to pick her up and take her home but I can’t see her anywhere. “

“ Max ? “

Billy wonders for a second if he should be concerned that this weird dude knows his sister by name then again Max spends a shit ton of time here so really It’s not too surprising.

“ Yeah, that’s her. So ? “

“ Mmh. She left like an hour ago. “ Keith says then looks back down at his magazine effectively ending the conversation.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Billy hurries back outside, dusk coloring the sky is hues of orange and pink.

She’s probably at the Sinclairs’ place or the Wheelers’ or wherever the fuck her and her friends hang out these days. To check all the places in hope to find her would take pretty much the whole evening and in the end, what difference will it make ? Neil’s gonna chew him out one way or another.

So he drives home sans Max, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white. Those are the moments that make him feel like he’s 8 years old again, getting yelled at during baseball practice for not sliding the way his dad has told him to. It makes him feel just the way he did at 9 sitting at the kitchen table watching his dad scream at his mom, calling her names.

It makes him feel like a small vulnerable child.

Lost.

Broken.

Scared.

Billy drags himself through the door, drops his keys in the little decorative bowl and throws his jacket over the recliner before trudging towards the kitchen. Every steps feels harder than the next, as if his feet get heavier and heavier the closer the gets to his dad. Like a cow on the way to the slaughterhouse.

Neil sits comfortably by the dining table, newspaper in hand while Susan is buzzing around the room preparing the food and cleaning up all at once. Billy doesn’t think he’s ever seen his dad help around the house, ever. Not back when mom was here and not with Susan.

At the sound of his steps, both Neil and Susan turn towards the door and focus on Billy. Neil’s eyes hold the familiar cold stare. There’s absolutely no warmth in them, no hint of tenderness, love, anything positive really. Billy wonders if there ever has been. If there has been a time when Neil felt some kind of affection towards anyone. He truly can’t remember a time when his dad was treating him particularly nicely but mom or Susan surely had to have had a reason to marry this man. There must have been something redeeming about him.

“ Where’s Max. “ Neil barks at his son.

Well hello to you too.

“ She wasn’t there. I went to pick her up. She wasn’t there. “

Billy is painfully aware that his words mean nothing to Neil, that whatever he says to defend himself is just a drop of water on a hot stone. It’s for nought. It makes no difference.

“ So you just left ? “ Neil replies, neatly folding the newspaper and getting off his chair. He moves agonizingly slow, calculates every move as a predator would before going in for the kill.

“ What was I supposed to — “

“ Did I or did I not, tell you to bring Max home ? “ Neil interrupts.

“ She wasn’t there, dad. I’m not her babysitter. I don’t know where all her friends live. If she runs off how is that my fault ? “

He’s gonna have to face the consequences one way or another, might as well get his frustrations out. Billy knows that talking back isn’t the smartest idea but he’s also incredibly thick headed. His mom never raised a quitter but maybe she did raise a fool and that’s one hell of a combination.

“ I’m sorry ? “ his dad asks, thick mean eyebrows raised in mock confusion. He’s heard him alright.

“ You heard me alright. I was there when I was supposed to be there. It’s not my fault she— “

His head hits the wall before he can even finish the sentence. Neil grips his jaw so tightly Billy is sure he’s gonna leave bruises. Again.

“ You are her older brother. You’re supposed to take care of her. Be responsible. I thought I raised you right but it seems you’re just as much of an irresponsible brat as your mother. You’re a disgrace, Billy. You disgust me. No wonder she left“.

Billy is certain that Neil knows bringing up his mother hits him where it hurts the most. Ever since she left, Neil hasn’t missed a single occasion to make Billy feel responsible for it.. In the logical, rational part of his brain, Billy knows this is bullshit. That it was the yelling, the fights, the bruises that made her leave. But there’s a part of him, the part that remembers baseball games ending in tears and smashed plates on the dining room floor.

And that part believes every single painful word coming from Neil’s lips.

That part feels overcome with guilt every single day of his life.

“ Now you listen to me, son. You go out there now and look for her and you better pray to god that you find her. “

He accentuates his words with another slap to the face effectively banging Billy’s head against the wall again before shoving him towards the door.

There’s blood running down his nose as he grabs his jacket and keys and rushes outside. Just as the door slams shut and he looks up, a pair of eyes stare back at him.

Max looks guilty, like a dog being caught doing something it knows it shouldn’t be doing. “ Billy I — “

He doesn’t stay to listen, just shoves past her and gets inside his car driving off.

It’s not Max’s fault. He know this. At least not really. It’s entirely and solely Neil’s fault. For being a fucking asshole. An abusive fucking asshole. He’s the one throwing the punches. He’s the monster here.

Though Max constantly running off, constantly rebelling doesn’t help Billy’s cause in the slightest. He knows she doesn’t do it on purpose. But the thing is, she does it anyway and he’s the one having to deal with the consequences.

Now he rather takes the punches himself than have Neil put a hand on Max but still, he wishes she could just stick to the rules a little more. Spare him some bruises.

His head is pounding, throbbing. It’s hard to focus on the street right now. Trees pass by in a blur. He knows it’s dangerous to continue driving but he needs to get away. Just a little further. Just a little.

Blood is still trickling down his nose, dripping off his chin. A glance in the rearview mirror confirms his suspicion that he looks like a fucking mess right now. He wonders if mommy dearest ever imagined this was the outcome. That this is what she left him with. Bruises and bloody noses and a head that feels like exploding any second. He wonders if she cares that she did.

The lights before him shift and shimmer, dancing before his eyes like fireflies on a warm summer’s night.

He realizes he needs to stop before his vision goes completely blurry and he ends up crashing the Camaro into a tree. Not his baby.

A sign catches his eye and he pulls the car off the road and drives up the little gravel driveway towards the building that displays in bold red letters on a big white board that this is Benny’s diner and it serves “the best burgers in all of Hawkins” — their words not Billy’s.

As he gets out of his car he can feel just how lightheaded he really is, having to hold onto the Camaro for a moment to collect himself. It’s usually bad but today is a new high or low, however you wanna see it. Billy wonders if Neil finds some sick satisfaction is seeing just what kind of damage he’s doing to his son. Seeing the marks he leaves when someone doesn’t follow the rules.

It’s all about power. It’s always been. Physically and emotionally and no matter how much Billy wants to pretend he’s in charge, that’s absolute bullshit. His dad holds it all in the palm of his hand, pulling Billy along on a set of invisible strings. He knows which buttons to push, which words to spit out. Neil knows where it hurts the most — physically and emotionally.

Before he even really thinks about it, Billy drags himself towards the payphone connected to the outside of the diner. It looks worn and dirty but he can only hope it still works.

His hands are shaky as he throws some spare change into the machine before pushing down the buttons of the number he’s never used and yet still knows by heart. Just in case.

Just in case.

Just in —

“ Hello ? “ she sounds sleepy and Billy can only imagine her hair is all over the place and her makeup is smeared, half on her face still half printed onto her pillowcase.

“ Hey, it’s me. “

“ Billy ? “

“ Mmh. Did I wake you ? “

“ I uh — no. No you didn’t. “ It’s a lie. He can tell immediately though he appreciates the thought. She doesn’t want him to feel bad, wants him to know she doesn’t mind. It makes his heart feel just a little less heavy.

“ Are you alright ? “

Is he ? No. It’s the truth. The honest answer. Though it’s not the simple answer. There is no more simple in his life. There hasn’t been in a long time.

Everything in his life is just another knot in a tangled web of anger and fear and feelings he never allowed himself to feel.

What does he tell her though ? Yes, and lie. Or no and try to figure out just how to explain his entire shitty situation over a pay phone call.

He doesn’t answer at all. Because this question calls for a simple answer and he has none of those.

“ Do you know Benny’s diner ? “

“ In Hawkins ? Yeah. Why ? “

“ Can you — “ he takes a deep breath.

This is so awfully familiar. Can you come ? Can you stay with me ? Can you rescue me from this all consuming darkness that never seems to go away ?

He’s asked his fair share of questions just like that. Can you please come home. Can you ? Can you, mom ? I miss you.

He doesn’t want to ask again now because hearing the answer he’s heard all those other times, will break his heart. — No.

“ Can I what ? Come around ? Is that where you’re calling from ? Lemme just get dressed and I’ll be there, okay ? “

His heart breaks right there. Then reassembles. There’s still pieces missing but for a moment, for a fleeting second it feels like some of the cracks are temporarily filling up.

“ You sure ? “

“ I’m sure. Always !“

“ Okay. “

“ Okay. Hey Billy ? “

“ Yeah ? “

“ Can you go inside and safe us a booth. And order me some cheese fries and a cherry coke ? “

He smirks at that, wipes the blood from his face and leans his forehead against the wall.

“ Always. “

Billy’s fingers nervously play with the chipping wood of the table before him. He can see the waitress eyeing him with an unreadable expression. He’s not sure if she regards him with worry or lust — or both.

She’s about to do her third round to refill his glass of water, when the bell above the door chimes up and figure rushes inside, denim jacket wrapped tightly around herself.

(Y/N) plops down across from Billy, hair wild and face void of all makeup. He can faintly make out a pillow print on her right cheek.

“ Hi, sorry it took so — oh my god. “

There’s pure and unfiltered horror on her face. As if she’s looking straight at a murder scene.

“ It’s that bad, huh ? And here I thought I could charm you with my exceptionally good looks. “ he jokes. She doesn’t laugh though. Not even a little bit. Not even a smirk or a grin. Nothing.

Instead her eyes hold a deep worry he hasn’t seen from anyone but her in such a long time, it still feels otherworldly and incredibly foreign to him.

“ What happened ? “

That’s the thing. Nothing happened. Nothing out of the ordinary and maybe that’s the biggest tragedy of them all.

Billy shrugs “ Guess my dad just isn’t my biggest fan. “

He can see just then it all clicks in her head. The bruises and the bloody nose and the constant state of anger.

“ Oh Billy “ she says, her voice but a whisper. “ Oh god. “

Before he can comprehend what’s happening she’s slid out of her side of the booth and sits down next to him. Her arms wrap around him and she buries her face in the crook of his neck. She’s warm and soft and gentle and it’s the complete opposite of the touches he’s used to from his dad.

He decides then, that her hugs are definitely in his top 5 list of favorite things on this earth.

(Y/N) slowly pulls away then gingerly cups his face trying to examine the damage.

Her eyes are glistening with unshed tears just waiting to fall. Billy doesn’t think he’s even close to be deserving of her worry, her affection and her love. But there is no way in hell he’s gonna reject it. He needs it. My god, he needs it so terribly.

“ Pretty boy, what am I gonna do with you ? “ she softly murmures, he assumes it’s just as much a question to herself as it is to him.

If only he had any idea how to answer it.

“ You think I’m pretty ? “

It doesn’t take away the gravity of the situation, the insanely heavy burden resting on them both. It does make her smile though and that’s more than he can ask for right now.

They spend the next hour at the diner, sharing some cheesy fries and listening to the 50s records playing over the stereo. (Y/N) doesn’t leave his side, not for a single second. He’s grateful. Having her close feels like things aren’t about to fall apart any second. She’s filling the cracks with smiles and warmth. She’s holding the seams together with soft touches and whispered words of affection.

“ Tell me something “ he says after stuffing another load cheesy fries into his mouth.

“ What do you want me to tell you ? “

“ I dunno. Something about you. I feel like you know a lot about me and I don’t know shit about you. “

She looks pensive for a moment, deep in thought as if carefully calculating just what secrets she wants to spill to Billy at 11pm in a diner at the edge of town.

He can’t fault her for that. Opening up is terrifying.

“ My mom died when I was 12 “ she replies after a moment of silence.

“ I’m sorry “.

She nods then leans her head against his shoulder “ she was a great mom. She loved me so much we were pretty much best friends, did everything together. Things were really tough for us but she always tried so hard to make life fun and happy for me. “

His mom did try, for a while. He always believed she loved him too. Then she ran off with some dude name Jeff she met at fucking Cracker Barrel. Seems like there was only so much love from her to be given to other people. And in the end Jeff won out over Billy.

“ What about your dad ? “

(Y/N) closes her eyes and takes a deep breath “ My dad was in jail for pretty much the biggest part of my childhood. Never for long but soon as he got out he found a way t get back in. When he was home he was — a rollercoaster of a person. He had times when he was the most fun person in the world, taking me to the fair and the movies and making up stories of make believe worlds. I love that man, that dad. But there were times, and they got more and more as time went on, when he was angry and scary and violent. Never to me but my mom was always on the receiving end of his wrath. I sat in my room covering my ears hoping the yelling would stop but then also fearing the moment it would because the silence was even scarier. When she was yelling at least I knew she wasn’t slumped on the floor bleeding or crying. “

There’s cold and hot shivers running up and down his spine as he listens to her story. If there’s one person in this world that he wishes he could take the pain from, it’s (Y/N). If he could just take it from her and put it all on himself, he would.

“ I was 10 when I called the police after finding my mom unconscious on the living room floor and dad gone. They arrested him again, put up a restraining order. Mom and I moved to Hawkins to be with my grandparents. Then she got sick. She died when I was 12 and I stayed with my pop and nan for a while but they — they’re old. They aren’t fit to raise a teenager so when I was 15 I got myself emancipated. That’s why I work at HHTCY. It’s a requirement to show that I am capable of living on my own and being responsible. Dad tries to contact me every once in a while. I don’t want to see him though. As far as I am concerned my father died along with my childhood when I had to pick my mother off of the floor, bleeding and unconscious. “

Billy doesn’t know what to say, there’s no words in the english language to properly express just how sorry he is that she had to go through this. How much he wishes she didn’t. How much he just wants all the pain gone and wrap her in up in quilt of safety and warmth.

So he doesn’t say anything, just pulls her closer and places a kiss on her head.

“ Pretty girl, you’re probably the most badass person I know. “

She sniffles then glances up at him with a tiny smile “ you think I’m pretty ? “

When they arrive at (Y/N)’s place, Luke the cat runs up to them, rubbing himself on Billy’s leg and purring up a storm. Though he never considered himself to be a cat person, Billy can admit that he’s warming up to this one particular feline. Luke is fat and happy and content. Maybe Billy is even a bit envious of him. Oh to be a housecat. What a glorious life.

(Y/N) disappears in her room for a moment and Billy let’s himself slump down on the couch. His head feels better though it’s still lightyears away from feeling good. The night feels like a goddamn hurricane of emotions. His mind was so loud at first, felt like it was never gonna shut up with thoughts of what is and what could be. Now it’s quieter, softer. Like a cozy blanket has been draped around him. To keep out the cold. The noise.

Billy kicks off his boots and takes off his red shirt leaving him in a white wife-beater. Just as he is about to lay down on the couch and settle down for the night, the door to (Y/N)’s bedroom opens and she calls out to him.

“ Billy ? “

“ Hmm ? “

She doesn’t reply, just reaches out her hand towards him waiting for him to take it.

He does. No question asked. He doesn’t know what it is about this girl, and quite honestly it terrifies him, but he would follow her to the end of the earth. Something about her puts things in perspective. No matter how cheesy it sounds, how much it makes him look like a pussy, but this girl has changed his life in the matter of about a week. This girl has brought some kind of sunshine to him. Has put parts of his heart back where they belong.

Her hand looks tiny in his. It’s such a stark contrast, her soft smooth skin against his all rough and calloused. It shouldn’t feel right but it does. It feels like it the only thing that’s right in his life. It feels perfect.

“ I can not let you sleep on the couch in this condition. I — it’s too small for you and it’s uncomfortable. “

“ It’s alright. “

She just shakes her head. “ I don’t want you to sleep alright. I want you to sleep well. Comfortable and warm and cozy. “

She has the most gorgeous eyes he’s ever seen. Like stars. How fucking cheesy.

“ So what, you gonna let me sleep in your bed ? “ he jokes, teasingly raising his eyebrow.

He thinks his heart about stops when she bites her lip and nods, pulling him towards her bedroom. And it’s not because of any sexual implications. This feels so much more intimate than casual sex ever could. Just the mere thought of falling asleep next to her sends a weird tingling sensation through him. To fall asleep holding her. To wake up next to her. Messy hair and pillow print and sleepy eyes and tired smile and all.

“ Okay. “ and this time it’s his words that don’t come out as more than a whisper.

The morning sun shines through the curtains of (Y/N) bedroom window, enveloping the room in a golden glow.

Billy opens his eyes to the sudden brightness lighting up the room. A glance at the clock on (Y/N)’s bedside table tells him that it’s 9:42, they’re already late for school might as well sleep in. After last night’s events neither of them thought of setting an alarm.

Billy looks beside him to the sleeping girl still blissfully unaware of anything but her dreams. He hopes they’re good ones. A selfish part of him hopes there’s a place for him there somewhere in her dreams.

It’s a strange sensation to wake up in a girl’s bed when he hasn’t had sex with her. He doesn’t think it ever happened before. Strange. Not uncomfortable though. Not at all.

As if sensing someone looking at her, (Y/N) grumbles in her sleep then reaches out towards Billy. When her hands find his arm, she crawls closer towards him and cuddles into his side as if it’s no big deal. And maybe it isn’t. Friends cuddle all the time, right ?

Thing is, it IS a big deal. At least to Billy it is. He’s not cuddled with anyone is such a long time. He definitely doesn’t cuddle his hookups. That’s way too intimate. Way too personal.

Billy Hargrove never thought of himself as a cuddler but as he pulls (Y/N) closer and feels her warm and soft against him, he thinks he might have been wrong about that. If this is what cuddling feels like, he’s definitely a cuddler.

So he closes his eyes again to fall back to sleep with the girl in his arms that changes everything.

“ Can’t believe you convinced me to skip school. You’re a bad influence Billy Hargrove. “

Driving along the roads of Huckley, sunshine flooding the streets, the two chew away on their late late breakfast to go. Having agreed that there was no point in going to school after having missed quite a bit, the two of them decided to just head over to HHTCY a little earlier than usually.

“ We were late anyway. And don’t pretend like you don’t enjoy it. There aren’t enough scoundrels in your life. “

(Y/N) gasps “ did you just quote Star Wars to me ? Holy shit, Billy Hargrove is a nerd after all. “

“ Ah shut up. “

He doesn’t want her to shut up though. He’ll gladly listen to her ramble on about some nerdy movies he doesn’t really give a shit about if it means she’s happy. If it means he gets to see her smile.

“ So what’s on the agenda today ? “ Billy asks before taking another bite from his bagel.

“ There’s a uh — group session. “ she says, glancing at Billy. Though her eyes don’t meet his. Instead they rest on the bruises scattered across his face.

“ Why are you looking at me like that ? “

“ Mmm, you know, a lot of the kids there come from homes where they’ve experienced domestic violence. Talking about it helps them, maybe — “

“ — I’m not gonna talk about my feeling with some looney doctors “.

“ You could talk to me “.

Billy puts the car in park but doesn’t get out, just stares straight ahead trying to find the right words. He hasn’t had anyone to talk to in so long it’s hard and scary to change his ways. He wants to talk to her it’s just so much to unpack, half of it he hasn’t even dealt with himself.

“ I know that. “

“ Good, that’s all I want. Always, yeah ? “

He nods and places a soft kiss on the top of her head before getting out of the car and walking towards the big brick building.

Even her hair feels soft and warm, goddammit.

With every story shared Billy gets more and more angry. His blood keeps bubbling and boiling at the thought of what some of these kids have been through.

It makes him acutely aware of the bruises littering his skin. Though he’s a big guy, he can take it. These are kids. Innocent kids who don’t do anything wrong. They didn’t ask for this. The dysfunctional family dynamics. The frustration and the stress and the blame and the hurt.

What makes him even more angry, is that some of the adults in this room, professionals or not, don’t seem to grasp the situations. They have a lot of nice words the shower the kids with. They’re empty phrases though, written by someone who’s never had to go through the struggles he thinks can be overcome with positive thinking and focusing on the good in the world. The happy things.

“ Try to focus on the good things “

Enough. Enough.

Fucking enough.

“ That’s such bullshit. “

It’s the first time he’s ever spoken up in any session, ever, which means all eyes immediately focus solely on Billy. Then again, maybe it was also because of the swearing.

“ Would you like to participate in our discussion, Mr. Hargrove ? “ Lydia questions, still slightly perplexed by the fact that Billy of all people is suddenly showing interest in the conversation.

“ Sure. I said It’s bullshit ! “

“ Excuse me ? “

“ Oh you heard me. This whole thinking positive shit is old news. That stuff doesn’t work for someone who comes from a completely normal family and it most certainly doesn’t help when your dad thinks a new black eyes would really suit you. There’s no positive thoughts to fall back on when you’re all alone in your room with nothing but yelling from downstairs and the fear that once this fight is over you’re the next to feel the wrath.

A positive side doesn’t exist for most things in my life. In those kids’ lives. The good stuff is fine and the bad stuff is real fucking bad. Horrible. No happy thoughts for those days when you’re covered in bruises and blood from your nose courtesy of your father’s fist. You tell those kids that one day the good is gonna outweigh the bad. How can you be so sure ? Cause I can tell you right now, so far I can’t confirm that. “

“ Billy “ (Y/N) approaches him, placing her hand on his arm. He doesn’t shake her off though he’s not finished.

“ Stop telling the kids that the storm is gonna blow over. Maybe it will but the damage is done and It’s gonna weigh down on them for a long time. A long ass time. And you get so used to feeling nothing but anger and sadness. So when a good thing comes in your life, it’s fucking terrifying., because what if this too ends up leaving, what if you mess up this good thing ? “ he says then look over towards (Y/N) then back to Lydia “ You don’t tell ‘em that, do you ? “

Billy doesn’t wait for an answer, just rushes out the room, hands clammy at the anger and frustration cursing through his system.

He leans against the cool brick wall of the building, taking drag after drag from his cigarette trying to calm his nerves, as a pair of arms wrap around his middle from behind. (Y/N)’s places her head between his shoulder blades just holding him close for a moment. Billy thinks his heart might combust right there and then. She seems to have a magical ability to take away all the anger, all the pent up rage. And in its place there’s only calm.

The cigarette drops from his hand and he toes it out before placing his hands on hers, taking one of them in his and placing soft gentle kisses on her skin.

What is this girl doing to him ? And why is it both insanely scary and absolutely wonderful ?

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shirtlesssammy · 6 years ago

Text

14x07: Unhuman Business

Then:

LaLaLa, this is not happening, LaLaLa

Now:

Uh, something seems to be wrong with my TV. Just Lucifer Nick blabbering on about his family and his regret for killing people that won’t help him find who killed his family.

At the bunker, Jack is not doing great, guys. Cas is attempting to heal him, but whatever is wrong with Jack is beyond his angel powers.

As the boys discuss their impossible situation, Jack falls to the floor, coughing blood and foaming at the mouth. They rush him to the hospital ASAP.

Worried Dad Dean is HIGH MAINTENANCE, but I’ll forgive his overbearing ways. Jack is in deep trouble. First, the hospital just needs some basic data, like name and date of birth, both of which the Winchesters fumble on. Jack’s a Winchester you doofs! And I guess Jack is 18. And his dad exploded. Jack then collapses and the medical staff rush him to a room, Sam, Dean, and Cas by his side.

(That framing tho)

God, my TV buzzed out again. Please stand by while I figure out WHY WE SHOULD CARE ABOUT NICK. He talks to a reporter and learns there was a cop, Frank Kellogg, who was patrolling Nick’s neighborhood the night his family died.

At the hospital, Jack’s tests results all came back negative. They’re going to have to run more tests. (Lol, I love how all of this is put in the vaguest way possible. Like not all tests are positive or negative, and what are they testing for?) The one thing they do know: His body is in complete systemic shutdown. (I read on Twitter the friendly reminder that you’re not a real hunter until you’ve died and come back again. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool.)

The brothers decide it’s time to explore other options: Rowena. Dean suggests calling her. Sam already did. (Samwitch! --my Saileen heart hates me every time I goof about this) (Natasha: SAME) The doctor walks in on the boys dressing Jack to leave. AND LET ME JUST FALL INTO A PIT OF EMOTION watching Cas put his coat on Jack.

ROWENA arrives as fast as she can (like, oof, there isn’t anything in this for her. She just showed up to help the Winchesters? Guh.) She thinks Dean is in trouble, but Sam reveals it’s really Jack, Lucifer’s son. Rowena’s out. Before she bolts though, Jack works his magic nougat ways.

Rowena breaks the bad news that without Jack’s grace, his nephilim body can’t sustain itself. Cas offers up his own grace to save him. I’M NOT CRYING, YOU’RE CRYING! As Ro is nixing that idea, Dean’s vision starts to blur and his hearing warbles in and out.

Not sure what was happening in this next Nick scene. He’s weird around a woman in an alley. She invites him back into the bar (WHY?) (Natasha: WHYYYYYYYY?) and then he secretly pulls a knife. In a brief moment of clarity, he yells at her to get away and she runs. And for the record: the giant neon S stands for Satan.

At the bunker, Overprotective Dean brings Jack a sandwich and milk. PURE. Jack is packing up and ready to hit the road, live a little before he dies. I’M NOT DYING, YOU’RE DYING.

Dean gets some serious dimples of discontent after listening to Jack but he’s not disagreeing with the boy.

Sam and Cas AND Rowena are on the research train. Cas presides over a mountain of books while Rowena and Sam call everyone they think might be able to help the poor young wee nephilim.

Dean gets the updates. The books are a bust, but Sam talked to Ketch, who has tipped them off about a shaman who might help. Dean takes all this in...maybe? In actuality, Dean wavers in and out of focus again. Oh, Dean Bean. Cas offers to tackle the shaman lead and the Winchesters can stay behind to look out for Jack. Enter Jack, with backpack, ready for adventure! Dean and Jack are heading out, to Castiel’s disapproval.

A little while later, Dean and Jack pick up some burgers and Dean tosses Baby’s keys to wee Jack. It’s driving lesson time! There’s so much wrapped up in this scene: Dean’s stunted childhood, his incredible capacity to nurture, Jack’s hero worship. MY HEART is wrapped up in this scene. They ease out on the road and Jack gains confidence quickly.

Dean turns on some tunes and BTO’s “Let it ride” sets the mood. Classic rock is such an important aspect of this show, and we didn’t realize how much we missed it as a set piece until this scene of open road driving.

(I’ll confess that I spent the first viewing of this scene ready for Jack to pass out and the car to careen dramatically off the road. I’m glad it didn’t.)

Cas heads out to find Sergei the shaman but before he goes, he talks with Sam about Dean’s reaction to Jack’s illness. “He seems to be taking this particularly hard,” Castiel observes. Sam tells him that Dean feels bad for the time he spent wishing Jack a swift and painful death at the beginning of last season.

Heartbreaking dialogue alert:

Sam: He’s lost people. We’ve all lost people but…

Cas: This feels different. Losing a son feels different.

But stow away those emotions, friends, because it’s time to go back to fun!Dad Dean. They’re eating more fast food, pulled over on the side of the road. “I’m a driver!” Jack announces gleefully. Yes, bby. Dean suggests a bar with promising hook-up potential. (Me: flashes back to Dean’s “Last night on Earth” speech with Cas back in season 4...and like, all of season 3.) Jack’s got other plans.

Nick finds Frank Kellogg, brings up the bare facts of his case, and then pushes Frank inside and holds him by the throat. Time to chat.

By a tumbling, small river, Jack gets into Dean’s deepest emotions like he’s ordering an ice cream shake at a diner. While they fish, Jack casually brings up that Dean and his father went fishing and that it was one of Dean’s happiest memories of him. Dean tries to dissemble, but Jack’s sure as a rock. (Now, there’s been some discussion about whether this was meant to refer to John or Bobby. My vote’s heavily on John. Dean loved his father, was disappointed by him, and longed for many things he could never have at the same time. Fishing with John Winchester was probably a shocking circle of calm - a pool of stillness and peace.)

Jack tells Dean that he wouldn’t miss the big, showy things in the world. Instead, he’d miss more time with Dean and the other people in his life.

Dean BARELY holds it together, a quaver in his voice as he returns, “Who’d’ve thought time with me would make you sentimental?” Dean. Bean.

Meanwhile, Cas drives his adorable blue car to meet Sergei the shaman. He’s immediately enveloped in a circle of holy fire. Thanks, buddy.

Sergei lives in a pimped out trailer, with flowers painted on the exterior and lushly colored and patterned textiles draped all over the interior. He proposes a “recharging agent” for Jack - something to shock his system and derail the degeneration. He offers Cas archangel grace (purportedly from Gabriel) and a spell to activate it. And the cost is simply that the Winchesters will owe him a favor. Sounds like a hell of a price to me.

Meanwhile Nick beats the shit out of Frank Kellogg. We learn that Nick’s neighbor saw Frank leave his house the night of the murders and the cops made him cover it up. Frank confesses that he met a man named Abraxis outside of Nick’s house and the next thing he knew, he was covered in blood. Frank was possessed by a demon which is some crazy ass shit, right? Sigh. Nick kills Frank horribly anyway, in a scene that goes on for WAY too long.

WAY the fuck too long.

In a giant breath of fresh air, we get back to the bunker, once again full of TFW 2.0 and Rowena Our Queen. They hand Jack the grace and it enters his body as Rowena chants the spell. Lights flicker. Jack’s eyes glow golden again. It’s worked!

Jack stumbles and falls again, worse than before.

Cas chews out Sergei via phone call and Sergei defends himself by saying that “science is sometimes trial and error.” It’s...awfully reminiscent of Michael’s experimentation, yes? It also reminds me of real world experimental parallels - now and throughout history. In a word: yikes.

Side note: Having once had a loved one’s body try to shut down in the ICU with no discernible cause...this episode really did hit home for me. It’s so easy in fiction to have a magical healing ability, and so much harder when there’s no explanation, no quick cure, and treatments that have your doctors crossing their fingers. I feel for all these dudes, and the doctors as well, is what I’m saying.

Anyway, Cas is pissed, and vows to smite Sergei’s ass if Jack dies.

For Vengeful Science

At Frank’s house, Nick prays to Lucifer and begs him to come back. In the blackness of the Empty, what looks like the Empty entity morphs into being and its eyes glow Lucifer-red. Well, fuck. (I’m actually excited to see the Empty again, but I am quite displeased about Lucifer.)

In the bunker, TFW mourns Jack’s rapidly failing condition. Rowena counsels them to stay by his side, for death approaches on swift wings.

Root Beer Quotes:

He’s sick, his name is Jack Kline, his father exploded.

Samuel, I thought we were beyond this.

Well, if it’s grace he needs, he can have mine.

Eyes on the road.

This is the best day ever!!!

Born with a wheel in your hand, huh?

Life isn’t all these big, amazing moments. It’s time together that matters.

Life - all of it - is a risk.

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn spoilers #spn recap #spn 14x07 #unhuman nature #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #jack kline #rowena #nick #supernatural season 14

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akaluan · 6 years ago

Text

Dragon Quincy AU Part 2

((And so it continues taking over my life.))

Erich hovered just beyond the wards he’d found, head canted to the side and eyes narrowed; whoever lived here on the edge of Seireitei had quite an impressive schema. If he could manage to slip /through/ those defenses, he would have a relatively safe place to hide and heal the young Quincy.

He closed his eyes to get a clearer image of the schema, then began to carefully weave an opening with his mana, inserting himself into the protections. The moment he had a gap, he folded his wings and dropped, settling on the ground near a few trees.

Erich lifted his head and scanned the area, noting the house in the distance. He couldn’t sense anyone within the wards, however; it seemed as if he was alone for the moment.

(Good. Time to take advantage of that breathing room.)

Setting the boy on the ground, Erich glanced around once more, then let his draconic form shimmer and fade away, replaced by his more compact, anthropomorphic war-form. Another thought brought up a mage-shield around them for added protection.

“Let’s see what we have here,” Erich murmured, crouching next to the sleeping boy and resting a paw on the boy’s chest. He reached out with his senses, checking the extent of the damage, and breathed a sigh of relief; he’d reached the boy in time, it wasn’t yet too late to easily heal.

Erich set to work, spinning out thin threads of mingled reiatsu and mana that sank into the boy’s body. He ignored the signs of damage and strain; time and care would heal those wounds, and he was no healer to urge it along. Instead, he focused on what he /could/ handle: the block beginning to form around the boy’s soul. Allowed to harden, it would cut him off from all but the barest traces of power until his body was strong enough to wear away the block.

And even then, Erich had known Quincy who never quite recovered their strength. Never regained — or /gained/ — their ability to transform.

(He’d carefully looked away when they put on the glove once more. Said nothing when they never came back.)

(Sometimes, being Clan Head meant knowing when he could do nothing to help.)

He would not allow that fate to befall this young Quincy. Would not allow the boy to potentially lose his heritage like that.

Erich brought his strength to bear and the forming block shattered like glass under his power. His mana dissolved the fragments before they could spread to cause problems, then settled around the boy’s soul in turn. A block, but a kinder one. One Erich set to slowly dissolved over the next few days, as the boy’s body healed from the strain put upon it.

He swept his power through the boy’s body once more, checking to be sure there was nothing /else/ that stood out. But beyond signs of stress and intense training, everything seemed fine.

Relieved, Erich pulled his senses back and straightened up, tail swaying contentedly. He’d need to double check in a few days, but he doubted the boy would lose his powers or his heritage.

“Incredible,” a voice breathed.

Erich darted to his feet, wings mantled and lips curling back in a snarl. “Shinigami,” he growled.

A man stood just beyond his shield, wearing the traditional Shinigami garb and with a blade at his hip. His long white hair hung free in a blatant sign of danger; only the skilled could afford such long hair, much less to keep it unbound. Even his mate Alexis had kept her human locks bound in a braid whenever she fought as a human.

The man raised his hands in faux surrender and took a single step back. “Peace, Great One. I mean neither you nor the boy harm.”

Erich growled and snapped his jaws closed on empty air, the blatant threat winning him another retreating step from the Shinigami. “Then go.”

“Please, at least hear me out, Great One,” the man said, tone gentle. “I am Ukitake Jyuushiro, the owner of these lands, and the Captain of the Shinigami who is to be executed. Who /they/—” he indicated the unconscious boy at Erich’s feet, then flicked a hand towards Seireitei— “are trying to rescue.”

He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, examining the Shinigami more closely. He couldn’t scent any fear from the man, nor the odd pile of scents that humans — and Shinigami — tended to smell of while lying. “What does that matter?” he asked, though he suspected he knew.

(He knew how it was, to have his hands bound by rules and regulations. To have to work within a system that restricted his actions and punished him for a truth that he knew but others would not accept.)

“They are doing what I cannot,” Ukitake admitted easily enough. “And until just now, the invasion was chaotic but not /deadly/—”

Erich growled and let tongues of blue-white flame spill between his sharp teeth. Ukitake’s eyes widened and he took another step back, the first acrid traces of fear leaking into his scent.

“That monster earned his death,” Erich rumbled, rustling his wings and digging his hind-claws into the ground. “He threatened /mine/, a /hatchling/ too young to change without aid. A hatchling I found in his war-form!”

Ukitake swallowed and visibly gathered himself. There was a sick understanding in his eyes; he knew what Erich meant, understood the weight of what had happened.

Understood Erich’s restraint.

(Understood how thin a line Ukitake was walking, speaking with a Dragon who had not completely Destroyed that which had threatened a claimed hatchling.)

“He’s your son, then?” Ukitake asked, then frowned in puzzlement when Erich shook his head. “I… see. But he’s yours— so the others..?”

“His,” Erich said. He let his flames die and his wings relax, then tipped his muzzle into the air and scented, searching for other hidden Shinigami. Not that they could easily reach him through the barrier that remained around him, but he’d rather not be surprised.

Ukitake appeared to be alone, though.

(Foolish Shinigami.)

(Foolish or confident, and both as dangerous as the other.)

“I’m clearly missing something,” Ukitake murmured.

Erich snorted. “You are.” He wasn’t about to get into the nuances of hoarding with a Shinigami. “Is it so strange that a Dragon might care for those who are /not/ Dragons?”

“Ah, no, no, that’s not what I meant to imply, I’m sorry.” Ukitake smiled sheepishly at him, then inclined his head in a shallow bow. “Please, forgive any insult I may have given, Great One.”

“Tch.” Erich folded his wings and gave himself a shake, ridding his body of the tightness that had begun to settle. “You never gave a clear answer, Shinigami. What is it you want?”

“I want to help you,” he answered.

Erich blinked slowly. Canted his head. Examined the Shinigami.

He must have heard wrong.

(But this was more serious than a bloodthirsty hatchling, wasn’t it? Ukitake couldn’t just aim his problem at his enemies and pray, could he.)

(His problem was entirely different.)

“You… want to help,” Erich repeated slowly. “Invaders and two Dragons, and you… want to help.”

“A collection of youths and an elder trying to protect them,” Ukitake corrected gently. “And beyond that, there is something… wrong about what is happening. It’s too quick, the verdict too strict— I cannot allow this to continue, but I need help.”

“Then gather your help amongst your kind, Shinigami.” Erich shot the man an unimpressed look. “You and your insular people have cast aside all attempts at alliances before, and yet you expect me to ignore that history now that /you/ have a need?”

Ukitake winced and looked away. “I know,” he murmured with regret, scent shading towards shame-exhaustion-unhappiness. “I’m not… asking for much. Just… let me aid you. The youths are trying to rescue Rukia because they care for her. Let me help you — them — towards that goal.” He took a breath and looked back at Erich, shoulders squared and a stubborn edge to his stance. “I can’t ask more than a few Shinigami for aid. The more who know, the more likely it is that we’ll /all/ suffer, and I refuse to be the cause of that.”

“At the price of your subordinate?” Erich prodded.

“I will save her /alone/ if I must.”

Erich narrowed his eyes and let an unhappy rumble build in his chest. The idea of working with a Shinigami was unthinkable. He was a Dragon, his people hunted down and slaughtered for the crime of /being/ Dragons, from Elders down to newborns. No mercy. No quarter.

And here was a Shinigami, one of his people’s killers, asking to help? Asking him to /work with him/? For a goal the Shinigami wanted and Erich could not care less about?

(But the boy’s hoard did, and thus the boy did as well.)

(He would not see the boy or his hoard in pain if he could help it.)

He snapped angrily at the air, instincts and gut reaction at war with the Human strategy pounded into his head. He wanted to say /no/, to declare that he and the others could do this without aid. Yet the war he’d lived through said otherwise; it was always better to have a man on the inside. To have intel and supplies and /aid/ from a native, even if that aid was potentially suspect.

So long as he kept his head, the chances of an ambush or betrayal were slim.

(Ukitake smelled like the officers he used to know, resolved and determined to follow through.)

“Fine,” he spat, tail lashing the air in his fury. “But if you betray me — betray /us/ — I will not stop at simply killing you, Shinigami.”

“I understand,” Ukitake said, inclining his head. “Thank you for giving me this chance, Great One.”

“Tch, don’t thank me yet,” Erich muttered. “And stop calling me that. It means something specific to my kind and I don’t qualify. If you must call me something, you may use Rerugen.”

“Thank you, Rerugen-san. Is there anything..?”

He grimaced and tilted his head to examine the boy at his feet, hoping that they hadn’t woken him from his rest just yet. The boy needed sleep more than anything else, and he also didn’t need to witness Erich’s fury any more than he already had. “Food, if you can. And perhaps blankets.”

Ukitake nodded in agreement. “I’ll bring those out to you in a moment.”

Erich watched the Shinigami dart off, then carefully settled into a crouch at the boy’s side. He would give the man a chance.

(But only one.)

#bleach #dragon quincy au #erich von rerugen #ukitake jūshirō #Erich doesn't trust shinigami for damn good reason #but he's also a lot more upfront about that than in Lilacs #because he's a dragon and he's Done With Hiding #no instead he's just going to threaten everyone with having their souls erased via dragonfire thanks #ukitake just wants to help okay #also Erich does technically count as a Great One I'm laughing at him #well not until later in the story but still #(basically a Great One is a powerful Elder Dragon who rules and protects)#(Erich would definitely have qualified in life if he'd changed into his dragon form and remained in that form)#(because his lifespan would have been longer like that)#bleach/tanya #tanya the evil

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emilyplaysotome · 6 years ago

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Chapter 7 - Bad Blood

Catch up on Chapter 1 - 6 here! (or just Chapter 6)

With Taylor Swift’s “Bad Blood” blasting on loop in the background, I found myself getting to work thanks to the king lighting a fire under my ass. In a way, I owed him one as I’d been split - one part of me wallowing and the other determined.

Before he’d kidnapped my friend, I had questioned how possible winning the game was but now I was ready to beat it in under 3 months just to spite him.

It had only taken a moment for me to go from having my best friend and ally, to being alone and feeling incredibly guilty for whatever was happening to Meg right now. I figured that she must be in the otome world and if she was going to return I’d have to find these dudes quick.

I knew that her original plan was to spend this week in CT and the next in NYC grieving the loss of her relationship before she resumed her life as best she could. With that said, I effectively had only a week and two days before people would realize that she’d gone missing. There was no way that I could explain that a man from a video game had kidnapped her and I didn’t want her parents or our friends to worry when there was nothing they could do.

I fretted about where exactly in the game universe Meg had been placed, considering that she was so unfamiliar with the world of these otome games. I thought about the problematic faves of the fandom, and worried about her getting involved with the cast of Kissed by the Baddest Bidder or the less popular Dangerous Seduction.

I wondered if she ended up in Soichiro’s hospital, or if she was currently living out a rebound relationship considering that time went by faster in that world than it did in my own. Regardless of what she was doing, I needed to get her back and if that meant stepping my search up - so be it.

Without skipping a beat I called the switchboard and learned that Jin Namba had been an NYPD officer, but had recently left the force. I asked if anyone knew of his whereabouts and the dispatch told me that information was not public. I quickly apologized and noted that he’d helped me with a case that I was hoping to follow up on, and was put in touch with a friend of his at the precinct in TriBeCa where I used to see him and Hiroshi during my lunch hour.

I planned swing by and see if I could get any information as far as Jin’s whereabouts and after several unfruitful google searches, prayed that something would pan out stemming from that precinct as it was proving to be my only lead.

As far as Hijikata went, I had to assume that he was still doing something that involved fitness. I googled his name and looked for results from the past week.

The first thing I found were several yelp comments from women that frequented the gym he and Soryu used to work at (CrossFit East). There was a specific thread about the sudden disappearance of their two favorite instructors, and as I read the comments I was suddenly thankful for how many fans the two men had amassed during their time working there. One woman had gone so far as to actually visit every CrossFit gym in the city searching for Hijikata as she claimed that no other instructor had been as effective at correcting her form and encouraging her. As a result of her palpable thirstiness, she had discovered that he was now exclusively working at a lifting gym on the Upper East side and was preparing for a weightlifting competition himself.

The response to her comment was a mix of gratitude and slight judgement of her stalker-like behavior, and after a few more google searches I finally found not only the lifting gym but the application form for becoming a member. With real estate in New York being so expensive and gym space often being crowded, Edge Fitness made a niche for itself in being a high end, exclusive, expensive, and serious.

They did not accept just anyone to join and even getting through the doors seemed to be a bit of a hurdle considering that I was not a professional athlete, celebrity, or body builder which was the bulk of their clientele.

At the very least I had myself another lead and it was up to me to confirm that this information was accurate. If I was able to do so in the next two days, I’d have located 4/6 and was hoping by the weekend to have eyes on Jin (5/6) in order to get as close as possible to getting Meg back.

It was the least I could do for my friend in addition to swiping myself to sleep with the hopes that the mystery sixth man in this world would reveal himself to me.

The next morning, I called out of work sick and packed my belongings, having made the decision to move back home.

If things had gone the way they were supposed to, I would have gone to work and moved out of Meg’s apartment in the evening after reconvening with her, but after her disappearance I felt too guilty to do anything other than prioritize finding these men.

As I was unpacking I could hear notifications in the other room blowing up my phone and soon learned that Anita had sent me several stressed out slack messages. Apparently she’d been counting on me to be present at work as she felt that I was an integral part in winning this new pitch she’d mentioned. She asked if I would be able to come in Monday, having rested all weekend, and I assured her that I would.

It was odd to me that on a Friday she was holding a meeting with new clients and I questioned what it was about this pitch that she felt I personally needed to be present for, however I didn’t have time to dwell. I shrugged it off wanting to make the most of the here and now and by 9 AM, I was back home in my studio apartment and found myself feeling several unpleasant feelings about revisiting that space sans Zyglavis.

Even though we’d lived together for almost a year before this point, there was not a trace of my ex-fiancee in any way, shape, or form.

We used to joked about who shed more - our bathroom floor was often covered in my long light brown hair or his jet black pin-straight hair. However, the apartment was spotless, and I surprised myself with the fact that I missed seeing those rogue strands of hair.

It was as if our life together never existed. There were no chocolates in our house, the fridge was empty as if it had been cleaned out, and my things filled the closet as if I’d never made space for his belongings.

The wounds were all far too fresh for me to emotionally handle but thankfully I was a master at compartmentalizing my feelings. It was a skill honed through years of emotional frustrations with the understanding that my career would not progress if I indulged my emotional life on a regular basis and so I learned to push through and keep my chin up.

I didn’t bother unpacking my own bag and instead threw on the cutest workout clothes I had and headed over to Edge fitness.

I’d rehearsed the scene in my head a thousand times and felt as ready as I could for my reunion with Hijikata.

Truthfully, out of all the men he was the one I thought about the most insofar as “what if”. It was him and Shun and the possibility I’d had with both of them that made me wonder if I would have been happier with them. With Hijikata, I’d been ripped away from him in the past and never even had the chance to audition him during my time as the bachelorette. I’d seen him flourish in this world, and found myself far more attracted to this man who could have so easily crumbled under the pressure of finding a new life and identity in a time drastically different than his own.

Out of respect to Zyglavis and our relationship, I’d kept my distance from Toshi even when I visited with him at the gym. That said, there had been a few moments between us - gentle looks or calm silences shared in passing - that made my heart flutter.

Of all the kisses to get, this one was my most anticipated.

I had planned out a reunion that made me appear to be the best version of myself but naturally I failed to foresee that Edge was on the fourth floor of a warehouse-like building and by the time I ascended the steep staircase, I was covered in a light sheen of sweat. There was no door to pass through or hallway where I could catch my breath or compose myself and instead I found myself huffing and puffing in front of a muscled military man who whose biceps at a glance seemed to be as large as my leg.

“What can I help you with hon?”

“I want to sign up…to…get in shape.”

He shot me a good natured grin and said, “Darling this is a serious gym - we only take people already in shape and turn them into Gods.”

“I know…I saw…on the…website…”

“Right. So go sign up at the equinox at 83rd and come back to us once you’re ready and we’ll…”

“No…I want to go from…0 to 100.”

He let out a loud guffaw that reverberated throughout the gym and said, “I like your spirit but we can’t just…”

“Please…I need this…please.”

He raised an eyebrow at me as my eyes pleaded with him. He muttered something under his breath and handed me a clipboard with paperwork noting that it wouldn’t kill him to give me a tour.

I took the clipboard and found a seat off to the side of the front desk and started filling the paperwork out. Most of it was straightforward - name, address, credit card information, health history, fitness goals, but when it got the emergency contact I could feel myself tense up. For the first time in my life I’d had a fiancee - a go to for something like that and here was another reminder that I no longer had that person to come running for me.

I compartmentalized, put my parents’ names down, and returned the clipboard.

“Alright Naomi, I’m Frank. Good to meet you.”

“You too.”

“First off Edge isn’t about weight loss, so if your goals revolve around the superficial this is not the gym for you. Our goals revolve around achieving the impossible. Take a look at that - what do you see?” Frank asked, leading me to a large mirrored room filled with free weights.

“I see potential.”

“Wow. I didn’t expect you to say that but I like that answer,” he noted with an approving smile. “You’re right - I always say that this is the space that differentiates people. There are the people that see the weight they think they can lift and there are the people who see what they can’t and make it their mission to be able to prove that nothing is impossible.”

I was surprised to learn that Edge was not just one floor, but instead several. The fourth floor was mainly free weights. The fifth floor was exclusively for cardio with stationary bikes, treadmills, stair master type machines, elliptical, etc. On the sixth floor, there were large squat racks and benches for chest press and it was there that I saw him.

Hijikata wore a ratty t-shirt which clung to his sweaty, muscled physique. Next to him, a spotter carefully watched and cheered him on as he attempted to squat what seemed to be an insane amount of weight. Frank continued to speak but didn’t hear any of what was said, and instead found myself watching Hijikata’s muscles strain and flex as he successfully moved the weight down and back up.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” His spotter yelled, and the men high fived each other with gusto.

“That felt great,” Hijikata said with a smirk.

I eavesdropped on their banter and when Frank had finished saying whatever it was that he had been saying I found myself blurting, “I want that man to train me.”

Frank chuckled, “Believe me, you’re not ready for the demon trainer.”

“Demon trainer?”

“He’s our harshest, most focused, results oriented trainer that has no use for a scrawny, out of shape, might give up any minute newbie like yourself.”

I thought for a minute about the Hijikata I’d first met in the otome world and how he had mercilessly trained his men. I thought about what it would mean to have to endure that kind of physical torture and while I was petrified, I knew that it was now or never.

Without saying anything to Frank, I approached Hijikata as he set up his bench and pressed my hands together in a prayer position and blurted, “Please train me!”

His eyes widened as he acknowledged my existence for the first time in what he thought was his life, and with a devilish grin he said, “I don’t think so.”

Frank apologetically came up behind me and said, “I already told her Toshi but she -“

“My entire life, other people have told me what was possible for myself and I’m at a point where I don’t believe any of that anymore. I want you to help me see that limitations only exist in my head,” I pleaded.

The statement caught Hijikata off guard, and I silently cheered as I watched him consider working with me. This iteration of Hijikata was that of a meathead bro on the surface, with a surprising amount of depth underneath. I knew that the version of Hijikata that trained in martial arts did so for loftier ideals. That Hijikata valued honor, mastery, and pushing ones sense of self.

I hoped that my words appealed to that part of him - a part that I was certain was still intact after seeing the intensity in which he trained himself.

“What’s your name?” He finally asked.

“Naomi.”

“Ok Naomi, how’s this. If you can get through a workout with me today I’ll make sure Frank here lets you train with me.”

He reached out his hand and I pushed down the terror that bubbled up in my gut and instead shook it.

It would seem in every iteration of Toshizo Hijikata a demon lurked beneath the surface and this Toshi had no problem dragging me down into the depths of hell. Having already been slightly out of shape, I found his workout not only incredibly difficult but borderline negligent as I pushed myself to my limits.

I collapsed at several points throughout the workout and after an hour straight of Hijikata barking orders at me and my body giving out numerous times I found myself looking like a drowned rat as my new trainer gently held my leg in a stretch.

“I’m so out of shape,” I wheezed. “That’s why I need this.”

“Yeah but there’s no shame in how you handled yourself today.”

“Does that mean?”

Hijikata then smiled at me for the first time since our reunion.

“I’ll tell Frank that I expect to see you back here tomorrow at 8 am.”

I swallowed my feelings as far as what it meant to have to wake up that early on a Saturday and instead nodded obediently.

Hijikata gently massaged my calf before taking my other foot and propping up my left leg in a stretch.

“So, were you one of my clients from before?” He asked gruffly.

“You don’t remember?”

He shook his head sadly and noted, “Amnesia they tell me. I know it sounds like a bad plot device in a hokey book or something, but I genuinely don’t remember much from before this week.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That must be scary.”

“It’s ok. I know the core of who I am and as long as I have that I won’t ever be lost.”

Hijikata’s way with words never failed to make my heart flutter, and though we had just “met” I hoped to appeal to do the same to his.

“From time to time

The clouds give rest

To the moon-beholders.”

My utterance caused him to go white as a sheet and I watched as a brawny, muscled, sweaty gym rat shed a single tear. The poem triggered something within him - be it a shred of his old self tucked away that the king had forgotten to erase.

I watched as Hijikata quickly regained his composure gruffly adding, “What’s that now?”

“A haiku. Something about you…it made me think of that poem.”

Hijikata paused for a moment, gently releasing my leg and with a small nod simply said, “Good job today,” before walking off.

I dragged myself back to my apartment, despite the fact that every muscle in my body was screaming and soaked in the tub for a good thirty minutes before I attempted to continue making progress. While I’d been in the bath, the king had texted and informed me that the use of a haiku was underhanded, yet clever, and that I should have no trouble winning Hijikata’s heart from what he saw.

“Don’t get cocky though goldfish,” he added, sending a picture of Meg.

I immediately opened the image attached and saw her on the street, with an annoyed look on her face as a man held her hand and dragged her with him. There weren’t many clues as to who she was with, but as I zoomed in I saw a familiar, tacky looking maroon jacket that I would be able to recognize anywhere.

Mitsunari Baba was holding her hand, dragging her somewhere and all I could do was hope that Meg was streetwise enough not to fall for him or any of the bidders.

Chapter 8 - http://emilyplaysotome.tumblr.com/post/174964422337/chapter-8-hiding-in-plain-sight

If you’ve enjoyed the story, please show your support by sharing it with a friend or buying me a coffee!

Thanks for reading :)

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drbtinglecannon · 6 years ago

Text

rohdaly asked: For the drabble challenge I shall request some Huwumis, please. 1) 3 - “You can’t just sit there all day.” with Highschool!AU. 2) 71 - “I want a pet.” uh Dogwalker!AU. 3) 72 - “Just smile, I really need to see you smile right now.” with something angsty wahahaha! K thanks! uwus all around ;)

I posted the angst smile drabble, here’s the dogwalker one! I feel I went a little off topic and it’s too long to really be a ‘drabble’ anymore but I hope you enjoy anyway! (Sorry if the text messages look weird, also Hawks is named ‘Tsubasa’ until Horikoshi says otherwise)

Hawks is absolutely terrified of dogs.

He can't remember a time when he wasn't, it's just a fear he's always lived with. When he was a small child, between 4 to 5 years old, a particularly violent dog got loose in his neighborhood and Hawks was unfortunate enough to get attacked by it.

Thankfully his grandfather was there to throw the dog off him, but it did get a nasty bite in. He was rushed to the hospital and got a whooping 16 stitches on his arm; the scar never fully faded but he was lucky he didn't get killed.

Hawks is old enough now to understand that the dog was heavily abused by its owner and was used in dog fighting rings. It wasn't really the dog’s fault, which is what allowed him to not entirely hate the species. Hawks sees the loving companionship some people are blessed enough to hold with canines in person and on TV all the time, but every time one walks too close, barks too loud, or even looks at him he feels like he’ll jump out of his skin.

Hawks is walking home from the cafe that he and Miruko went to so she could participate in a poetry slam. It was pretty cool and some of the people were incredibly talented, including Miruko. She tried to get him to go up on stage too, but while Hawks writes lyrics he isn't really able to get into the groove of a slam unless he could play music and at that point he'd just be singing.

He has his headphones over his ears and is bobbing his head to the beat, admittedly not paying as much attention to his surrounds as he should. Hawks closes his eyes for just a moment and when he opens them again…

There's a damn dog blocking his path.

“ACK!” He shouts and jumps back so quickly he loses his balance falling flat on his butt. “Ugghhh…”

“Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! Are you ok?” A feminine voice calls out.

Hawks could hardly hear over the sounds pouring from his headphones, so when a hand gently taps his shoulder he jumps again. His sharp eyes meet dark gray eyes he'd recognize anywhere, and he kind of wants to ground to swallow him whole.

“H-hey, Todoroki-san…” He mumbles awkwardly as he slips the headphones down off his ears to rest around his neck.

Todoroki Fuyumi is crutching in front of him, a classmate of his most of his school life and the subject of his affections for just as long. “Hawks-san, are you ok? It looked like you fell hard. Brutus didn't run into you did he? He's kind of a handful, very friendly but no sense of personal space.”

“...'Brutus’?” Hawks asks skeptically.

Fuyumi gestures at the gigantic dog Hawks honestly forgot about the second he saw her. He flinches when his eyes land on the hulking canine, and tries not to scream when Brutus walks over his legs and huffs happily in his face.

“Brutus, no!” Fuyumi tells the dog in a commanding tone Hawks wasn't aware she was capable of. How is she so damn cute?

The dog barks making Hawks twitch, but it does back up and plop down on the ground in front of his feet panting loudly. “Good boy!” Fuyumi chirps and reaches out to pat the dog on the head.

Hawks is desperately trying so hard to keep his hormonal teenage mind from wandering to dark places after hearing Fuyumi’s tone of voice with the dog that he barely notices when she turns to talk to him again. “...what?”

“I said he likes you!” Fuyumi smiles and repeats with no issue. “I think he feels bad for startling you.”

“O-oh um…” Hawks swallows and begs his stupid brain to work. “It's uh, it's no problem. I wasn't really paying attention to where I was headed.” She offers a hand to help him up which he gladly accepts it, praying his hand isn't too sweaty.

When they're both standing Fuyumi gestures at his headphones. “Yeah I'm not surprised, your music is really loud Hawks-san. You should be careful about your hearing.” After she points it out Hawks realizes how loudly the music is booming from the speakers.

“Right yeah…” He absentmindedly holds the volume switch on the cord down until the music is adequately muffled. “So uh...is Brutus your dog?”

Fuyumi shakes her head. “No, he's one of the dogs I walk. Brutus is really big and energetic so I have to walk him by himself, but I usually walk between 3 to 5 smaller dogs.”

“Dogs you...walk?”

Fuyumi nods with a smile. “It’s my part-time job during the summer months. People go on vacation so I walk their dogs two or three times a day while they're gone on the weekends and during break.”

Hawks blinks owlishly at her. “O-oh…”

Hawks regretful doesn't actually know Fuyumi very well personally, he's much closer with her younger brother who he used to play on the football team with until Hawks quit, but he does know her family is ridiculously rich so the idea of her having a part-time job seems strange. “You must really like dogs, huh? You always struck me as a cat person.”

“I love dogs and cats! Both are very lovable and great family members in different ways!” She explains excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to be a veterinarian when I grow up. Or maybe a school teacher, but either way I want a house just full of dogs and cats.”

Hawks isn't sure what else to do with this information besides treasure it forever. “You'd make an amazing vet or teacher.” He murmurs as he shoves his hands into his pockets nervously.

“Thank you, that's very sweet of you.” Fuyumi smiles. “What about you Hawks-san, do you like dogs?”

“Um...more of a bird person myself…” He warily eyes Brutus as he answers, and tenses when the dog loudly harrumphs at him.

Fuyumi giggles and scratches Brutus behind the ear. “I'm not sure he liked that answer.” The dog leans into her touch and whimpers merrily.

“Sorry, Brutus…”

“Anyway, I need to get going. It was nice seeing you, Hawks-san.” Fuyumi politely waves as she and the huge animal walk off.

Hawks watches as she leaves and a dopey grin blossoms on his face. “She held my hand!” He fist pumps to himself and spins in a circle, before remembering the important detail that makes him hang his head in defeat. “...but she loves dooogggsss…”

His stupid teenage emotions flip-flop between ecstatic and dread as he trudges home.

Hawks casually takes a seat at the table next to his grandfather and watches him until the latter can feel it. His grandfather peers over the top of his newspaper and Hawks takes the opportunity to talk. “I want to get a pet.”

“Hm...I suppose if you promise to take care of it.” His grandfather easily agrees and turns back to the paper.

Hawks clears his throat and clarifies. “...I want to get a dog.”

His grandfather drops the paper to give him the most incredulous look possible, before calling out towards the open door leading to the balcony. “HONEY!” When Hawks’ grandmother pokes her head in the doorframe to peer over his grandfather jabs a thumb in his direction. “Who is this sitting next to me??”

“Gramps, come on…” Hawks sighs.

“That's your grandson, Tsubasa.” His grandmother answers over the whining before returning to her gardening out on the porch.

“Right ok, so why is this kid asking to get a dog?”

There's a pause before his grandmother slowly leans back with a confused look on her face. “Tsubasa...you want a pet dog? I thought you were scared ---”

Hawks cuts her off with an exaggerated groan. “Gramma, Gramps, stop please. Can't I just...I don't know, want to get over this all?”

“By getting a dog?” Gramps raises an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

Gramma has put on her slippers and trudged into the room, brushing dirt off her hands onto her apron. “I think he's lying, dear…” She whispers too loudly to her husband who grunts in agreement.

“You two know I can hear you, right?” Hawks glares at them. Gramma has the decency to seem embarrassed but Gramps just snorts a laugh.

Gramps eyes him for a second before relenting with a sigh. “Tell ya what, kid. We don't want you getting a living creature and bringing it here if you're gonna jump every time it moves. Prove to us you aren't scared of dogs anymore first, then you can get one as a pet.”

Hawks’ eyes widen as he looks between them both. “Really?? Yes, ok! I'll do!” He lunges to his feet and gives them both a quick hug before dashing off to his room.

His grandmother waves after him as she murmurs to her husband. “...do you really think this is a good idea?”

“Don't worry, we won't get a dog.” Gramps chuckles as he snaps the paper back up and resumes reading.

---

Hawks jumps face first onto his bed and pulls out his phone, rapidly texting his best friend.

Birdie: Guess who I ran into today!!!!!!

Buns: I would say Todoroki Fuyumi based on how you’re acting

Buns: But we both know you're too much of a chicken to talk to her

Hawks glowers at the screen and types with more force than necessary.

Birdie: I am not a chicken

Birdie: But yes, I did run into her AND we talked for a bit!!!

Instantly his phone buzzes several times as Miruko registers this information.

Buns: Wait really

Buns: Whaaaaat???

Buns: What happened did you ask her out finally??

Hawks is a little afraid to answer that. He's just as sick of his friend nagging at him to make a move as she is of his love-struck gushing about Fuyumi.

Birdie: ...no

There’s such a long pause before Miruko texts back Hawks has already pushed himself off the bed and started strumming some notes he wrote on a napkin back at the cafe on his guitar. His phone buzzes and he leans over to look at his screen.

Buns: You’re a helpless idiot

Hawks pouts but can't bring himself to disagree. Instead he picks up the phone and sends another message.

Birdie: ANYWAY get this. She's a dog walker!

Bubbles showing a response is being typed disappear and reappear several times. Finally Miruko sends something back.

Buns: Um. Isn't that like, you're worst nightmare?

Birdie: What no.

Birdie: Maybe I'll finally get over this thing with dogs AND spend time with her!!

Buns: Or Buns: More likely Buns: You'll TRY to and end up making a fool of yourself in front of her Buns: And she may lose interest (if she had any) if you don't love dogs

Hawks rereads Miruko's texts a couple times and deflates. She isn't trying to be mean and he knows it, but it really took the wind out of his sails. Miruko must sense his pouting because she hurriedly tacts on more.

Buns: Or maybe you're right

Buns: This might actually get you to get over your fear

Buns: Cause the fear of looking dumb in front of Todoroki is prolly the only thing that scares you more than dogs

Hawks perks up slightly reading the new texts. “Yeah...wait, that's it! I'll ask to help Todoroki-san! Then I can hang out with her AND get over my fears!” He shouts a little too loud as he jumps to his feet but he doesn't care. His grandparents probably won't think anything of it anyway either; he's constantly singing, playing music, or just plain ol’ talking loudly.

Hawks spends the rest of the day switching between playing various melodies on his keyboard and guitar as he plans out operation: Befriend Fuyumi (and also get over fear of dogs).

---

The next day Hawks wakes up so giddy he can't stop moving. He dances around his confused grandparents as he chirps he's heading out for the day and dashes out the door before they can respond.

He's bouncing on his heels and jamming to the music from his headphones as he walks down the street towards the area he ran into Fuyumi and Brutus yesterday. Hawks realizes now that it was across the street from a park that's a popular spot for dogs.

He absentmindedly realizes he can't just hang out right where he saw her yesterday because that'll lead to questions of why he's just standing around. Hawks groans and tries to come up with a new course of action. As he whips around his eyes land on the park across the street...filled with dogs.

His blood runs cold imaging waltzing over there.

There’s a gaggle of big, long-haired canines running around in a group all jumping on each other, a handful of smaller dogs yapping loudly and chasing on the heels of the taller ones, and one or two tiny things cowering behind their owner’s legs.

Hawks considers retreating back home, however he already planned ahead for if he wusses out and told Miruko exactly what he was doing. If he backs down now not only will she never let him live it down, she might just break into his room and drag him out by the ankles.

He gulps before marching across the street with all the courage he can muster.

Overall it wasn't too bad. Hawks managed not to scream at any point, and only jumped and stumbled once trying to escape the attention of an energetic blond dog. Thankfully the owner intervened on his behalf. He scurried off and is currently sitting on a bench a little ways off from where the animals are playing.

Hawks has his eyes screwed shut and is taking deep breaths in and out. Foolishly he still has his headphones on and listening to music a touch too loud so he doesn't notice when someone says his name.

He does notice when a slimy wet surface rubs against his hand though.

Hawks recoils and cracks his eyes open, coming face to face with a dog nudging it's nose against his knuckles. He freezes but it isn't until another smaller dog jumps up on the bench and climbs into his lap that he finally yelps and jumps to his feet.

Hawks tumbles away from the bench, the small dog landing on the ground easily with a playful bark, but he doesn't get far before another one pushes his legs into each other and he falls backwards. Hawks blinks up at a shadow towering over him for a second, before it suddenly lunged down at his face.

He ends up passing out.

---

Hawks isn't sure how long he's out for but it can't be too long because when he finally flutters his eyes open the sun is in the same spot up in the sky. He absentmindedly notices a hand on his forehead and another gently but urgently shaking his shoulder.

“...ugggh…” He groans pathetically.

There’s a relieved sounding sigh right above him and the hand on his forehead moves away. “Oh thank goodness! Hawks-san I am so sorry about that! I didn't think they'd all swarm you like that!”

“Wha…?” Hawks squints and when his vision finally focuses he kind of wishes he had just died where he's lying.

His face flushes and he sits up far too quickly, the rush of blood to his head making him dizzy. Hawks doesn't have time to adjust though because once he's up his eyes land on the three dogs that scared the life out of him just a moment ago sitting in a row a couple feet away and yelps hard, trying to crawl away but slips and lands on his back again.

He decides to just stay on the ground this time. The owner of the voice leans over him with a sympathetic expression and offers a hand up. Hawks debates not accepting it and just lying in this spot for the rest of his life, but practically overweighs dramatics so he sheepishly takes the hand and lets himself be hoisted into a sitting position.

There’s a beat of silence as he waits for her to ask the inevitable. “Hawks-san?”

“...yes, Todoroki-san?”

“...are you afraid of dogs?” Fuyumi asks him softly. There it is, any chance with her blown forever. Instead of talking he just mutely nods his head, eyes glued to the grass by his legs.

Fuyumi hums in confusion and cocks her head slightly. “Why would you come to a dog friendly park then?”

Hawks isn't sure how to answer that. 'I was hoping to see you and force myself over my fear to impress you cause I have a gigantic hopeless crush on you’ doesn't sound very good. “Um…” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and clears his throat. “I uh, wanted to get over my fears. But um...I think I didn't go about this the right way.”

He expects her to laugh or scoff or something at his expense, instead she sits right next to him wearing the most encouraging smile possible. “I could help, if you'd like.”

Hawks blinks owlishly at her a couple times, praying to every deity his face isn't too red before he nods. Her smile widens and she tenderly takes his hand again to moves to extend it in front of them. Somehow he doesn't die of sheer joy from the action.

“The best ways to approach a dog are to first ask permission of its owner as they'll know if it's friendly or not, I'm already giving permission though. Then you should let the dog come closer at its own rate, preferably facing them at an angle instead of head on, so just sit here and I'll call Missy forward.”

“Missy…?”

“The pug who climbed into your lap.” Fuyumi quickly explains. She's holding all the leashes in her other hand and gently tugs the one for Missy specifically. Missy was ecstatic to move and quickly lumbered over towards Hawks’ offered hand. He tensed up as her wet nose wiped against his palm but Fuyumi gently squeezed his wrist where her cold hands still held on.

“Try gently petting her face and neck.” Fuyumi suggests and despite how his hand is trembling Hawks manages to gingerly stroke Missy’s cheek. The dog seems to love it because she's aggressively rubbing her face into his hand and her curly tail is wagging.

Hawks lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. “See? It's not so bad! Some dogs can be a handful or territorial so it's always good to approach carefully.” Fuyumi beams.

Hawks nods and glances up at the other two dogs. “They're uh...all well trained.”

“Usually.” Fuyumi agrees. “Missy and Lola, the beagle that nudged your hand first,” she points at the dog to the right and continues explaining, “they have the same family. Troy, the black labrador that licked your face when you fainted, is their neighbor so they all get along well.”

“Oh...I see.” Hawks stares at the other two dogs sitting with each other panting calmly.

Fuyumi eventually releases her grip on Hawks’ wrist much to his disappointment to hold the leashes with both hands. “...have you always been afraid of dogs? Um, if you don't mind my asking.”

“I don't.” He quickly assures her. “I uh, got attacked by one when I was a little kid. It was abused and used in dog rings so it was hyper violent, one day it got loose and I happened to be in its path. Been terrified ever since.” He finishes with a shrug.

Fuyumi gasps and clamps her hands over her mouth. “Oh my gosh, that's terrible!”

“Yeah I still have a scar on my arm.” He was almost going to offer to show her but realizes that might be weird so he keeps his mouth shut. “I don't want to be scared of dogs, I don't hate them it's just…”

Fuyumi hums in understanding. “If you'd like…” Her voice is very timid all of a sudden and it draws Hawks’ eyes off Missy to look at her. “I have two dogs at home, maybe you can come over some time and meet them. I could um...help you work on your fear more.”

Hawks thinks he must be dreaming because Todoroki Fuyumi not only invited him to her house, she's seated so close next to him their sides are almost touching with pink cheeks and a shy smile on her face.

She fidgets and looks away. “Um, if you want to. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable ---”

“No!” He interrupts loudly. Fuyumi glances back at him and he clears his throat, trying to force himself to talk at a normal volume. “Um, you aren't uh...I would really like that, it sounds really fun.”

Her smile returns as she nods. “I think you'd like my dogs. They're Scottish terriers named Guiver and Guinness.” Fuyumi excitedly raves about the pros of Scotties for a few minutes, most of which is lost on Hawks but he is more than happy to listen to her gushing. “Anyway...I have to bring these three home but you could come over later today if you're free.”

“Yes!” He answers too quickly but the way it makes her giggle was well worth looking dumb.

“You should bring your guitar too.” Hawks furrows his brow, confused on how she knows he plays the guitar. “Natsuo told me you quit the sports team to focus on music.” She supplies as if she could read his mind. “It was a shame, you’re very skilled at football.”

Hawks’ heart is hammering in his chest as it slowly dons on him that Fuyumi pays attention to him and must've been for at least the past year to know this information. He swallows the dry lump in his throat. “Yeah, well, I'm even better at the guitar.”

Her bashful smile widens. “I look forward to finding out.” Then she raises to her feet and herds the dogs a few paces away from him, being mindful of how he's still working over his fear. “So, I'll see you later? You know how to get there right?” He nods once. “Good. Well, until then Hawks-san.”

She and the dogs head off and he waves after them. It isn't until they're out of view that he falls flat on his back again with a giddy noise. “She wants to hang out and listen to my music!!...I need to text Miruko, she’d be so proud.”

#huwumi #Fuyumi x Hawks #miruko and hawks are bffs fight me #drabble challenge #rating: g #Guiver and Guinness are the names of my scotties #football = soccer #au no quirks #au teenagers

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the-christian-walk · 3 years ago

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GOD’S PURPOSES ARE ALWAYS IN PLAY

Can I pray for you in any way?

Send any prayer requests to [email protected] In Christ, Mark

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

** Follow The Christian Walk on Twitter @ThChristianWalk

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** Become a Follower of The Christian Walk at http://the-christian-walk.blogspot.com

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

The scriptures. May God bless the reading of His holy word.

Paul gathered a pile of brushwood and, as he put it on the fire, a viper, driven out by the heat, fastened itself on his hand. When the islanders saw the snake hanging from his hand, they said to each other, “This man must be a murderer; for though he escaped from the sea, the goddess Justice has not allowed him to live.”

But Paul shook the snake off into the fire and suffered no ill effects. The people expected him to swell up or suddenly fall dead; but after waiting a long time and seeing nothing unusual happen to him, they changed their minds and said he was a god.

There was an estate nearby that belonged to Publius, the chief official of the island. He welcomed us to his home and showed us generous hospitality for three days. His father was sick in bed, suffering from fever and dysentery. Paul went in to see him and, after prayer, placed his hands on him and healed him.

When this had happened, the rest of the sick on the island came and were cured. They honored us in many ways; and when we were ready to sail, they furnished us with the supplies we needed. After three months we put out to sea in a ship that had wintered in the island—it was an Alexandrian ship with the figurehead of the twin gods Castor and Pollux.

Acts 28:3-11

This ends today’s reading from God's holy word. Thanks be to God.

“I urge you to keep up your courage, because not one of you will be lost; only the ship will be destroyed. Last night an angel of the God to whom I belong and whom I serve stood beside me and said, ‘Do not be afraid, Paul. You must stand trial before Caesar; and God has graciously given you the lives of all who sail with you.’ So keep up your courage, men, for I have faith in God that it will happen just as he told me. Nevertheless, we must run aground on some island.” Acts 27:22-26

Everything Paul had told the people, while onboard the Alexandrian ship as it was besieged in a terrible storm, came to be. Not one of them was lost even though the ship was destroyed. All 276 people escaped the shipwreck and ended up on the island of Malta where they were shown hospitality by the islanders there.

I can’t help but wonder about the impact Paul had on those 276 people, many of which probably had religious beliefs different from the apostle. In fact, I’m sure a majority of the passengers onboard the ship headed for Rome prayed to whatever god they worshipped on more than one occasion as the ship was battered by the strong winds and waves. While their prayers were unanswered, the God of Paul was the One who took them to safety and I can’t help but think that many of those who stood alive on the solid ground of Malta were ready to switch their religious allegiance to the God (capital “G”) that Paul followed.

This is why the whole sequence of events at sea happened in the first place. God could have granted safe passage to Italy and then Rome for all who were onboard but that wouldn’t necessarily have changed anything in regard to the belief systems of the passengers. Our Lord often creates situations of adversity, situations that are out of the control of His people, so to lead them to place their full faith and trust in Him. The storm, Paul’s exhortation and promise of safety, and the ensuing shipwreck near an island where 276 people could get to safety were all a part of God’s plan. He always moves in a way where His purposes will be fulfilled.

With this truth in hand, we turn to Malta and the predicament Paul and the others now find themselves in. All were on their way to Italy but their ship was now gone and it wasn’t like another ship was being dispatched to pick them up. By all appearances, they were stranded on the island of Malta and they were because God had work for Paul to do there before He could further make the way for Paul to get to Rome to testify before Caesar, something He promised Paul would happen.

What was God up to on Malta?

We find out in today’s passage as we continue to look at the final chapter of Acts. Look again at the scriptures here:

In yesterday’s message, we read where the weather on the island was wet and cool. The islanders helped the marooned shipwreck passengers with fire and shelter from the elements. The fires needed wood to continue to burn and so we find the industrious apostle gathering brushwood and throwing it on the fire when all of a sudden, a venomous viper emerges and fastens itself on Paul’s hand in plain sight of the islanders.

It was at that moment, that we discover that the Maltese residents had their own belief system. For as they saw the viper’s fangs clamped down on Paul’s hand, their religion immediately labeled Paul as a guilty murderer worthy of death, a death that would be doled out by the goddess Justice. Their thoughts definitely tell us that they weren’t God believers and so they definitely had not received the Gospel.

It didn’t take God long to change their perspective for we read where Paul shakes the viper off of his hand and into the fire before going on about things with no ill effects. None. The islanders stood and waited for the venom to have an impact on the apostle, for Paul to swell up or suddenly drop dead as I’m sure they had seen many of their own do on the island. But they saw nothing happen, even after waiting a long time. They were in awe of this and so they believed that Paul was a god unto himself (small “g”).

Word about Paul began to spread and we read where it reached Publius, the “chief official of the island”, who promptly Paul and the others into his estate and showed them continued hospitality for three days.

Note that Publius wasn’t really expecting anything from Paul. The invitation was one based on a general goodness and willingness to host the marooned people from the destroyed ship.

While at Publius’ estate, Paul learned that the chief official’s father was ill and not doing well, “suffering from fever and dysentery”. The scriptures tell us that Paul “went in to see him”, praying over him before placing his hands upon him. Miraculously, the affliction left the official’s father and he was fully cured.

It was an amazing act of healing and deliverance from sickness. I’m sure Publius was very curious as to how Paul had the power to do what he did and I am equally sure that this allowed Paul to share the good news of God’s mercy and grace as well as the gift of salvation He offered through His Son Jesus. Again, God had Paul on Malta for a reason and Paul was seeing those reasons play out during his time there. The Lord’s purposes were being carried out and fulfilled.

Well, once word continued to spread about Paul, now adding that not only was he able to escape injury from a viper’s bite but heal by touch, we read where “the rest of the sick on the island came” to Paul and all were cured, just as Publius’ father had been. And because of the blessings that the Lord had brought to them through Paul, the Maltese islanders sought to honor him and those with him “in many ways” which included another Alexandrian ship to take to Rome that was “furnished us with the supplies” the crew and passengers needed.

The Lord had blessed the 276 shipwrecked people with safety on Malta and in turn blessed the Maltese hosts in a special way for their hospitality. And when it was all said and done, an incredible impact was made on everyone through His work in and through Paul.

Tomorrow, we’ll join him and those with him as they finally reach their destination and the place God wanted Paul to be.

Amen.

In Christ,

Mark

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