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amusedyan · 4 years ago

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Monthly Meetings

A Peaky Blinders commission!

Words: 2k

Once a month there was a meeting. It was something dreaded by both parties, but one that was necessary- it was neutral territory, where mutual suggestions were discussed, grievances were gone over and business settled. No one officially came armed- but that was never written into the deal. Just like it wasn’t discussed that both parties came with a small coterie of their most trusted, each eyeing the other and waiting for a twitchy trigger finger.

Tommy Shelby was never on time to any meeting.

He came early when he was the one to suggest it- to get the drop on the other person, to make an impression. You waste my time, and you have no right to ask anything of me, was the goal there. When told to meet someone, he always made it a point to arrive 5 minutes late, because you aren’t worth my time.

This meant that meeting Alfie Solomons put him in an uncomfortable position- he had to come on time. And sometimes Alfie was there already, smug, or sometimes Alfie was late and dismissive about it, but with a stack of papers and grievances to make up the difference.

Tommy was continually unimpressed with the Jewish mobster, though you could color him surprised when word got out through the grapevine that Alfie Solomon had started going steady with some bird from the local flower shop.

He’d never figure him to be one to settle down, but those same rumors claimed that he ws continually trailing after her. Considering how…temperamental his associate could be, Tommy could believe it.

When Alfie actually entered the restaurant, Tommy reflected that the rumors must be true because the man was practically glowing. More importantly though, his usual stack of gripes was noticeably absent.

“Tommy-boy!” The man grunted, taking his seat at the table. There was already whiskey poured- courtesy of Tommy, of course.

“Alfie,” Tommy greeted, watching the man settle.

It was such a waste of his time to come here, and it took active work not to lose his temper about it. He could be home now

“So, to business. Would you like to begin?” Tommy offered magnanimously.

Alfie drank from his glass and winced at the taste. “Shit, that is,” he mused, shaking his head. “How’ve you been, Tommy? How’s life treated you?”

Suspicion colored Tommy’s thoughts. What was Solomons up to? Small talk wasn’t part of the meeting, ever. As if reading his thoughts, Alfie chuckled. “Don’t be like that, Shelby. I’ve been advised to try diplomacy.”

“By your new conquest?” Tommy countered. The expression on Alfie’s face closed off, and no longer was he looking at a man blatantly in love and feeling charitable to the whole world for it. It made things much easier to deal with. But a moment later, a sly smile crept across Alfie Solomon’s face, and Tommy wasn’t much fond of that expression.

“You’d know all about conquests, wouldn’t you, Tom?” Alfie folded his hands across his midsection and leaned back against his seat, leveling Tommy with a look just as cold.

Fury unfolded, and beside that, fear. What did that mean? Who had talked?

Chuckling, Alfie waved it off. “Now, there’s no need for that look, my good man. There’s been whispers, same as there have been for me. About a pretty girl. What’s her name?”

“We aren’t here to discuss women, Alfie.” Tommy said flatly, trying not to growl. From the corner of his eye, he could see Finn watching intently. He was waiting for a signal. No, he needed to reign it in.

Alfie was just intent on pushing his buttons though, grinning broadly, damn near leering at Tommy. “Well, her name’s Margaret.” His finger drummed against the glass, the ring he was wearing clinking methodically. “I doubt her name’s in your network, yeah? Every fucking thing else, but not that.” He shook his head. “Beautiful name.” And there was that lovesick look again.

“Is that all?” Tommy asked. What would it take to get the meeting back on track? Alfie eyed him, and reached into his coat-

Finn and Isaiah were drawing their guns, Alfie’s men were responding-

“SIT THE FUCK DOWN!” Alfie boomed, stilling the room. Tommy saw that what he’d withdrawn was his wallet.

“What are you planning, Solomons?” He asked, withdrawing a cigarette from his case.

The Camden bastard rolled his eyes and withdrew a photo. “Here,” he grunted, “have a look at this.” He handed it over to Tommy.

And honestly the last thing that Tommy expected to see was the image of a young woman posing for the camera. Rather lewdly, to put it mildly. Like a whore if you wanted to be blunt.

“My Margaret,” pride dripped from Solomons’ voice, like he hadn’t just shown off the parts of a woman that only her husband would see.

Tommy weighed his answers- would Solomons light up with fury if he complimented the woman? Or would he be offended if he didn’t? The trouble was that you never knew with him. He took a contemplative drag of his cigarette.

“Lovely,” he settled on.

Alfie scowled. “Oh like yours is any better,” he taunted. “C’mon, let’s see ‘er then.”

“I don’t have pictures of my woman on me, Alfie.” Tommy said, unable to stop the slight condescension from creeping into his tone, like he was talking to a child, or else someone very simpleminded.

“Well why the fuck not? How’m I s’posed to know if this woman exists, eh?” Alfie accused, smacking the table.

This was all very confusing honestly. What the hell was he playing at? “I didn’t claim she was real.”

“What man doesn’t have a picture of the woman he loves?”

“What man carries filthy pictures of his?”

“Oi mate, those are fuckin art!” Alfie argued with surprising vehemence. It was a strange hill to make a stand on, but hey, he could relate.

“Whatever you say, Alfie,” Tommy sighed and blew out another cloud of smoke.

It was raining now. Storm clouds had been gathering all of yesterday, and he’d been able to taste the moisture, along with the filth in the city air. Rain was ugly here, didn’t clean a fuckin’ thing. He found himself thinking, longingly of the estate. The Shelby Estate, a grander name than something like Arrow House. But little things like a name change kept your feet on the ground. Sylvia would be there, reading. It was raining, so she couldn’t ride today.

At first she’d hated being in the house. She’d wanted to be back in Birmingham. Always liked the action, wanted to support him. It had been charming before, but now that they were together, it couldn’t be tolerated. Too many risks.

“Are you fucking ignoring me, Tommy-boy?” Alfie’s voice was dangerous now, angry and short. Shit. He stubbed out the remains of his smoke in the ashtray.

“No, Alfie, I’m not ignoring you,” he said on the exhale. Clearly, he reflected, nothing was going to get done with this meeting. It was a shame, but at least that meant things were secure where they stood.

Either Solomons was happy or about to betray him again.

“So, I’ve told you about my Margaret, tell me about your girl.” Alfie ordered, pouring another drink.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Tom said, but at the disbelieving look on Alfie’s face, he shrugged slightly.

“I just don’t understand how a man can have a woman and not want to talk about her. Obviously you’ve heard how proud I am, but you? Are you ashamed?” It sounded like it was amusing- the idea that Tommy Shelby would be ashamed of anything in his life.

But the idea of being ashamed of Sylvia? That struck a nerve and that pissed him off properly.

“I’m not ashamed of her.” He snapped.

Alfie’s grin was positively disgusting. “So she does exist? Well, come now, what’s her name?”

For a moment he didn’t answer. Then he spoke begrudgingly, “Sylvia.”

“Sylvia, aye.” He nodded, turning it over. “She a gypsy like you?”

“No. She is not a gypsy.” Eye contact was key. “It wouldn’t matter either way.”

“So why don’t you talk about her? I could talk all day about mine, as I’m sure that you’ve noticed,” of course he had. “You move her in yet?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Tommy mocked, making Alfie roll his eyes.

“Neither of us are gentlemen, Tom, no matter how you fuckin’ pretend. I moved Margaret in almost right away, you know? We just, we just had this connection- I saw her and I wanted her. Sent her gifts every day, came into the store when I could- her smiles, they lit up my fuckin’ life.”

“I’ve never known you to be so open about your business, Alfie. Aren’t you worried that someone might overhear?” It wasn’t a threat, not at all, not for once. This hit a little too close to home for it to be anything more than idle curiosity, and luckily Solomons knew it.

“No, mate. I need her to know how much I love her. And I need other people to know. Because if someone thinks that they can hurt her? I will…” he laughed, and it didn’t sound sane at all, but it didn’t bother Tommy, “well fuck, I think I’d burn the fuckin’ city down. But,” and he looked at Tommy, and that affable, unstable mask came off for a moment, and Tommy was looking at the emptiness that came from the war, the same emptiness in every soldier who’d been in the field, “but I think you know that, don’t you Tom?” He sighed and shook his head. “I figured, hell, if anyone on this Earth knew what I felt- how far I’d go- it’d be you.. And you do, don’t you?”

Tommy thought about Sylvia. He always thought about Sylvia.

He did horrible things on a daily basis. What would he do if something happened to her?

And the thing was, Tommy didn’t even need to ask himself that question. He’d known the moment that he’d seen her what he’d do for her, what he’d already done. She was safe, that was what he told himself, she was under constant watch, by men he trusted, where he didn’t need to worry about someone running off with her, or an accident, or any of the things that could take her away.

“And you just keep her in an apartment?” He muttered.

“How else would I see her?” Alfie countered evenly. “I take it you don’t?”

Tommy didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to, not in the context of the question.

“No, no, the way I see it, it’s better that I can keep an eye on ‘er. I get to come home to a nice meal, lovely company, and everyone knows what’ll happen if they fuck with her. You keep yours,” and he pointed at his business associate, “in some isolated fuckin’ kingdom and what happens? People get curious. You can’t see her as often. She goes missing. There’s no fuckin’ neighbors to pay to keep watch.” And hell, that was actually a very good point, but he didn’t want to hear that from Solomons.

“Let’s just agree to disagree.”

“Oh I fuckin’ disagree, mate. You don’t get that shit in hand-“

“And what might happen, Solomons?” Tommy asked calmly. He knew what this was- this was Solomons trying to knock him off his game, disturb him. And why? What the hell did Solomons have up his sleeve? “What are you planning?”

“Well I dunno mate.” The glass in Solomons’ hand was empty now, “what do you think I’m planning?”

“I think you’re just being a prick.” The other man barked out a laugh.

“Fair enough, so- grievances.”

And there it was.

When it was over, Tommy went over the meeting- all of it, bullshit included- in his head, thinking it over.

Alfie Solomons was a two faced bastard.

But Tommy found himself making plans to go visit Sylvia as a surprise, nonetheless.

#yandere peaky blinders #yandere alfie solomons #yandere tommy shelby

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

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Earth is a Death World, “Ice Climbing.”

ope you guys like another themed story :)

Wind whipped at the outside of his containment unit. It came in great frosty gusts and billows which made it difficult to see four people trudging through the snow in front of them.

As the wind continued to pick up, great swathes of snow were blown off the ridge in massive undulating sheets. The little specks of ice clattered against the glass of the container even as he watched.

The five humans struggled through the snow, which reached almost up to mid thigh in certain places, though their thick layers certainly didn’t help their movement all that much either. They were slow and shambling , like great beasts milling about through the arctic expanse.

It was sometimes hard to remember that they were even on a habitable planet, and that the humans din’’t require space suits because all around him he saw only an alien landscape covered in ice and bathed in the disseminated gray light of a blizzard.

Out of the snow he could now see a straight cliff-face rising up into the white. He might not have seen it if he wasn’t looking, though the occasional jutting rock was more than helpful, black against the white of the snow.

The humans hurried forward the snow growing shallower the closer they got to the cliff face.

Eventually they reached their destination, ducking into a small crevice in the rock where the wind wasn’t so bad.

Krill was set to the side against one of the walls trying not to look up at the towering cliff face as the humans adjusted themselves.

Five faces peered out from fuzzy winder coats, the hoods lined in animal fur clung to by flakes of ice and snow. Their faces were covered as well, their eyes only visible behind clear orange goggles, and their faces swathed by fabric to cover the exposed nose and mouth.

To his side, Adam Pulled up his goggles and down on his face protection. His light skin was red with the cold, but he didn’t seem to notice or care, “You picked a great day to come up here sis.”

Across the circle, one of the figures pulled off their goggles and ask as well.

Maya Vir, Adam’s older sister looked out from the depths of her hood, “If I had known ou were going to be this much of a chicken, maybe I would have picked another day.”

Adam’s brothers hooted from behind their mass and goggles.

Adam rolled his eyes, “hilarious guys, just hilarious.” Maya grinned, “Anyway, I know a place. Husband and I mapped it out a few weeks ago, and it's a very good climb up, relatively easy, no jumps or anything like that.”

Krill looked out at them baleful from inside his test tube, “I thought we were done.”

The humans turned to look at him, though the expressions on their faces were mostly concealed he received wicked grins from the other two.

“What makes you say that?” Adam wondered, as the group began adjusting themselves, “We did say we were going Ice climbing.”

Krill nodded and crossed his arms, “yes, and there was plenty of ice and plenty of climbing.”

It was only when the humans began uncoiling rope did Krill know something bad was about to happen.

Even worse when he saw the humans….. Strapping knives to their feet?

What was this nonsense.

Up ahead of them, Maya pulled two pick axes? Or miniature hooked versions of the from her gear.

Krill stared.

“What are you doing with those.” he wondered, watching as everyone else began pulling the same equipment from their bags.

Adam pulled his face protection back over his nose and mouth, “Well how else are we supposed to get up the cliff.”

Krill stared at him, “I’m sorry, you, What!.”

Adam dropped his axes to the side for a moment, pulling Krill back onto his back, “That’s what Ice climbing means, Krill. We are going to use the ice to make it to the top of the cliff. In the summer there is a little waterfall here, but in the winter it gives us some great ice climbing.”

“Define ice climbing for me again, because this surely can’t be as stupid as I think it is.”

“You’ll see in a minute.”

Krill glowered out from his container, “Which one of your insane family members picked THIS pass time, why couldn’t you guys play cards, or have a picnic. I like those things.”

Adam snorted as they trudged their way over to the bottom of the cliff face.

Krill looked up at the great snow covered ice expanse, though evidence of the blue tinted ice was underneath coming down like a rock formation might form in a cave over a million years.

“You only like playing cards because you can count them, and picnics because you're a plan, and besides it’s my sister’s birthday tomorrow, and for her birthday she wanted to take us ice climbing.”

“Why is no one in your family normal?”

“What about dad, you get along with him just fine.”

Krill huffed, “I did, and then I learned he rides giant four legged beasts for work.”

The human rolled his eyes again.

Maya turned, “Alright, split up into one group of two and one group of three.

“Jeremy will be the lead on one, and I will be the lead on the other, “Adam, you can come with me.”

Krill very much didn’t like where this was going, watching as the humans tied themselves together with rope.

“There are guide points placed on the stone and the ice, so the lead will attach the rope as we go up.” She was saying, and krill watched as she drove back her arm and slammed the head of the axe into the ice. He could hear it crunch and shatter under the head of the axe and then lodge there as she kicked into the ice with the blade on her foot. Eventually she was suspended by nothing but the blades .

Adam looked up, watching and waiting as she slowly made her way, ten feet up the ice face where she found one of the hidden markers and connected dtheir rope. Adam let her get up at least twenty feet before following behind hooking himself to her rope and following up after.

The other three were doing the same some meters away.

The higher they went, the worse the wind grew, until snow ad ice was buffeting them lightly from one side to the other.

Krill was right next to full panic as they dragged themselves further and further from the comfort of the ground below. Water droplets trickled and froze on the face of the cliff as they clambered upward, the sound of the axes just barely audible over the howling wind.

At one point he made the mistake of looking down but saw nothing but a white wall of snow as it blew past. The ground no longer visible.

He covered his eyes hating every moment that they were hauled into the air.

Why why why could he not be with a normal human, one that liked to sit in front fo the TV and eat chips.

Why couldn’t he be with someone sedentary, and the only thing he had to worry about was them dying from blood clots.

The human drove his hand back, ramming the blade into the open ice face. Small chips of blue cascaded down onto his arm and then fell into the white expanse.

Krill couldn't watch.

But the humans continued to pull themselves up using incredible and unbelievable strength to haul their own mass up the face of the ice wall, using blades and axes to get there, for no other reason than the fact that they could do it.

Why why why were humans so stupid

Why couldn’t they just be content to sit back and survive like every other species.

And why, even when they insisted on having hobbies did it have to be something that involved, extreme weather, heights, and --arguably-- deadly weapons.

His angry contemplation didn’t last long as a distant voice cut through the blizzard, “ADAM LOOK OUT!”

Krill’s head snapped up, as did Adam, just in time to see the blue chunk of ice pelting down right towards him.

He didn't have time to move and Krill felt the violent jolt as Adam was knocked hard in the right arm.

The ice fractured one piece slamming again’st Krill’s tube.

Adam’s grip was broken on his axe twisting him to the left. The loop of paracord around his wrist, connecting to his axe caused the pick to be yanked from the ice face and flung around as adam flailed nearly hitting him in the back of the right leg.

As his body contorted, the ice around the picks on his feet shattered and gave way and his legs were flung out to the side as well.

Krill squealed, watching as the world careened past them.

He expected to fall but was surprised when they didn’t.

Adam grunted with exertion, and Krill looked up to find the humans still gripping hold with one singular ice pick. He looked down again into the white void, feeling as the human gained enough power to swing himself back to face front driving one of his feet into the ice for more leverage, and then the other foot.

From there he managed to swing the second pick up into his hand climbing back upwards to follow his family members who were frozen not twenty feet up the face looking down and waiting for him.

They seemed relieved when he appeared and climbed the last ten feet to safety.

Krill and Adam were hauled up onto the ledge, where, pressed back against the rock, the wind had died down again.

“Adam are you ok!” Maya said looking him over for injury, “I’m so sorry, I saw it dislodge above me, but I couldn’t stop it.”

He waved a hand, “It's ok, just a little bruised is all.” He flexed his hand

Krill had had enough.

“OK! Ok! We nearly died. Why do you humans insist on going out in adverse death world weather where the visibility is almost zero,just to climb up an unstable ice structure using fancy knives and some rope thinking that will be enough. Why, why, why do you always have to do stupid things that involve almost falling to your deaths.”

His rnt continued on for a few minutes

So its not like anyone had time to tell him that, even if they had fallen, the rope woudl have caught them

Just let him think what he needed to think

#earth is a deathworld #earth is space australia #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities

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dsoe-masteroftheheavenlyyard · 4 years ago

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Chapter 2–Hunt for the Deadly Sins; Scene 3

master of the heavenly yard pages 18-28

It was currently nighttime, and there were no artificial lights anywhere in the desolate field they could rely on.

Even so, as there were no buildings to block the light of the moon it actually wasn’t all that hard to see.

--Just as Allen had been when he first came here, Nemesis seemed unable to believe the scenery before her.

“How…could this be? The Millennium Tree Forest was destroyed along with the rest of the world—no, it was burned down even earlier than that. So how…”

The trees were flourishing in abundance.

As though they had never been destroyed at all.

It was undoubtedly strange, considering everything they had seen up to arriving here was wasteland.

“There’s no cause for finding it so unusual, Nemesis. To put it in layman’s terms…These exist here under the same principles as that clinic did.”

Nemesis seemed to immediately understand when she heard Allen’s explanation

“The specialty clinic in the illusory Moscow that Levia Barisol created…I see. Thoughts can materialize in the Hellish Yard…In other words this too is an illusion created by souls—"

“You catch on quick. Not that I’d expect any less from the original ‘Master of the Hellish Yard’.”

“My…so you know that much, do you?”

Allen pointed up to the moon in the sky.

“I studied everything about this world inside the ‘Blackbox’ up there. So I understand most of what’s going on.”

“You studied ‘everything’ but you only understand ‘most’ of it?”

“I’m not as smart as you. That, and there are some things I couldn’t study with the black box.”

“Such as?”

“The gods call this world the ‘Third Period’. The black box taught me about events that occurred there. But…I wasn’t able to get much information on the world before, the ‘Second Period’ where the gods lived.”

“Assuming it was Sickle who created that ‘Blackbox’…That information was probably left out on purpose. Well, it sounds like something she’d do, anyway.”

“…?” Allen made a curious expression. “Is Sickle—a girl?”

“By my reconning at least.”

“I see…I always thought he was male. Well, at any rate, you would know more about the ‘Second Period’ than me.”

“And that’s why you brought me along on your journey.”

“There is that, and I also was wanting to borrow the connections you’ve built up over your long life. There’s a lot of souls on the ground world now that lived in the past. Naturally, a lot of them are people I’ve never met.” Allen looked back to the forest before them. “For example, the spirits that live in this forest. I didn’t even know they existed back when I was alive. However…That’s not the case with you.”

“The spirits—are still residing here in the forest?”

“Yeah. This forest itself was something they conjured up.”

Nemesis reached out to put a hand on a nearby tree branch.

Despite it being an illusion, she was able to touch it. It felt peculiarly rough…It certainly “existed”, but it gave across a somewhat strange sensation that felt unstable to her.

She noticed something moving at the edges of her vision, and turned toward it. A single fox was gazing at her, but the moment Nemesis saw it, it quickly hid itself in the shadow of the tree.

Phaser…

Nemesis remembered that fox’s name. She was certain it was one of the spirits that lived in the forest—or would it be more accurate to say “people”?

Whichever it was, she knew this one to have an affable personality. That they refused to come near in spite of that must be because she was in this form, Nemesis thought to herself.

I am…the one responsible for destroying the forest, after all.

Nemesis turned back to Allen.

“Is Michaela coming back here?”

Allen shook his head.

“If she’d intended to do so, she would have come along with us.”

“That’s true. So this forest is currently—”

“Being managed not by Michaela, but a proxy.”

In that next moment, they could hear someone’s voice from above their heads.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit harsh to treat me as a mere ‘proxy’, Allen?”

A single blue bird flew above them. It was the bird that had spoken just then.

“That voice, and that manner of speaking…Professor Held!?”

Nemesis’ eyes widened.

“If you’re calling me ‘Professor’, then…Your memory has come back.”

“Yeah, it’s all returned, thank you…Why do you look like that?”

“Various reasons. By all rights I was unable to materialize on the ground world due to my restrictions. As a result of tirelessly endeavoring to slip through a loophole in those rules, I wound up as this bluebird.” Held selected a branch on one of the trees and landed there. “By the way…What is it I ought to call you?”

“Nemesis is fine.”

“I see. Then, dictator Nemesis—you’re guilty of quite the horrendous deed, aren’t you? The reckless act of firing the weapon of mass destruction ‘Punishment’ at the world and bringing it to an end.”

Nemesis felt no fear at Held’s grave words.

“I don’t feel like apologizing for it. As you well know, that was my goal from the very start. You and Hazuki laid all sorts of groundwork to avoid it, but it looks like it that was all in vain.”

“You wished not for ‘management’ but ‘destruction’…So, as we feared, your mind was already infected with ‘malice’.”

“So what if it was? If you want to kill me you’re welcome to do so.”

“I have no intention of holding you responsible for that now. That wouldn’t bring the world back. …And besides, I’ve come to be increasingly less certain as I’ve watched you, Seth, and that girl Irina—all of you who have been reduced to ‘HER’s.”

“Less certain of what?”

“—Just what in the world ‘evil’ is.”

Nemesis was wordless for a moment at such an abstract question.

Allen silently listened to the two of them speak from the side. He wasn’t boorish enough to cut into an exchange between “gods”.

“…Evil is—” Finally Nemesis opened her mouth. “—Those who won’t obey the established ‘rules’. Those who disrupt order. That’s the basics of it, right?”

“Then what about Gallerian and Riliane’s case? They were the ones who created the ‘rules’, after all.”

“I said ‘rules’ to be brief, but there’s many applications of that. Rules of countries, rules of the court, personal rules, or…the rules of gods. Occasionally those contradict each other. In that case—the rules of the one who wins out in the end are taken as just.”

“So you’re saying that you aren’t ‘evil’.”

“Correct. I’m the winner.”

“…Is that really so? It’s true that you’re the sole living thing in the world. But…It’s still possible for the dead to kill the living.” Held looked up at the night sky. “If you wish to become the true ‘winner’…I would advise you do something about that.”

At that moment, Nemesis finally noticed it.

On the other end of Held’s gaze, floating high in the air, was a peculiar object illuminated by the light of the moon.

“That’s…it can’t be! What’s that doing here?!”

It was an enormous “black box”.

If Nemesis’ eyes weren’t deceiving her, that was without a doubt a “Blackbox”—a piece of technology from the Second Period.

“Is that an illusion someone conjured up too?”

“It can’t be. Who could think one up, given it didn’t exist in the Third Period?”

Upon hearing those words, Nemesis immediately turned to Allen.

“Nope, it wasn’t me.” Allen denied firmly, shaking his head and waving his hands. “And that ‘Blackbox’ looks a bit different in construction from the one I’m familiar with.”

There were several types of “Blackbox” that Nemesis knew about.

The one floating in the air just then was—

It’s unlike the Type E, as well as the Type L that I made. The closest I can think of is…the Type S!

The second edition device created by the physicist Seth Twiright.

That was the “Type S”.

But the Type S wasn’t loaded onto the spaceship “Climb One” that we’d been riding on. It shouldn’t be in this world—

And there Nemesis recalled an event in her past.

A battle between sorceresses that had occurred in Merrigod Plateau…That phrase that had been spoken by the Red Cat Sorceress.

…She had called the device that was installed in her chest cavity a “Blackbox Type S”. If that was a “Blackbox” that Seth made in this world—

If that “black box” up there was no illusion, but the real deal.

There was a chance that Seth had created it in secret.

Though I’d no inkling of him making such a thing while he was with me—or rather, Nemesis—at the very least. Perhaps when he was in the Hellish Yard before…But then, I can’t imagine Gumillia would have allowed it.

It might have been fastest for her to just ask Seth, but given that he wasn’t around at the moment she couldn’t do that either.

“How about we try getting close to it for now?”

Allen nodded at Nemesis’ suggestion. “That might be best.”

“We’ll just head to ‘Evils Theater’ later…”

“—It looks like we might not have to.”

Allen pointed above the “black box” in the air.

It would be more clearly visible if this were during the day, but…it appeared that something else was floating there.

Nemesis strained her eyes, trying to confirm what she was seeing.

And once she understood his response, she was shocked once again.

“…I don’t get any of this. How is a theater floating above the ‘Blackbox’?”

“I guess that looks bizarre to you too, huh?”

“I could say the same for the ‘Blackbox’, but…A heavy building like that floating in the air should be completely impossible under Third Period technology, at the very least. Even if it’s an illusion, it’s just completely uncalled for to deliberately have it floating in space. It’s like a child made it up.”

“…Surprisingly enough, that might be accurate.”

“…?”

“I mean that theater might be an illusion brought about by a child, or else someone with a child-like personality. In any case, we should probably go see it first.”

“Quite right.” Nemesis approached the blue bird that was sitting blasé on the tree branch. “With that, we’ll be leaving soon.”

“Hmph…You alright leaving without saying anything to your friends?”

“—They aren’t the ‘Climb One’ crewmembers anymore. They’ve lost their memories, and live in this world as spirits.”

“True…But there are exceptions. Those who have regained their former memories.”

Nemesis didn’t need to ask him who those “exceptions” were. She had a pretty good idea of who that applied to, and also knew that none of them were in this forest right then.

Rather, she had something else that she needed to ask him.

“One last thing…Professor Held. Why did you become the ‘Great Land God Held’?”

“…? What do you mean?”

“You were against us managing the new world. That was the reason why we wound up fighting each other. And yet despite that—”

“You can’t understand it. You’re wondering then what in the world were we fighting over.”

“—Yeah.”

“…It was the ‘Moon Goddess’s idea. I—no, none of us, could go against her. …Now then, I think you best be off.”

And at that, Held finally stopped talking completely.

It was as though he had turned into a mere bird, that would not reply no matter what Nemesis said.

“…Farewell, Professor Held.”

“…”

Nemesis reluctantly said goodbye to Held, and went to move on ahead with Allen.

<<prev------directory------next>>

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ksj-com · 5 years ago

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Request #6

What’s At Stake

- Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

- Genre: Secret FwB!AU, College!AU, smut, angst

- Warnings/Tags: Fingering, nipple sucking, cum tasting, hooking up, jealous Tae, hate sex, car sex, riding, smacking, mark making, rough sex, hair pulling, choking, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), daddy kink, ass play

- Word Count: 3727 words

- Summary: Hiding things from your best friend is never easy, especially when it’s secretly hooking up with her ex’s best friend. When you tell Taehyung about going to a party with a different guy jealousy strikes.

“Harder,” you breathe.

“Shh, quiet so they don’t hear us,” he pushes his finger against your lips. Watching you struggle not to make a noise as his other fingers jammed and curled inside of you. His thumb rubbed deep circles against your clit as your legs were pulled apart for him to see everything. His tongue ran along his bottom lip, eyes glued to your naked body under him.

Your whimpers were muffled from you biting your lip down to keep them inside. He knew exactly how to touch you to throw you over the edge. His pace quickens and your eyes squeezed shut. Your back arches as you feel yourself close now. Now that your chest was closer to his face, he connected his lips to your tender nipples. Your bare chest heaved and gasped while your toes curled to the sheets under them. His hand was so strong inside of you that he made your hips jerk back. Teeth sunk into your hand to try to minimize the screams of pleasure, cumming all over his fingers. You were out of breath when you watched him suck his fingers clean. The sinful look he gave you while doing so put you in a trance that eventually ended when his fingers popped out of his mouth.

His lips were swollen from the intense makeout session you both had beforehand, giving them a wet and red appearance. He wraps them around your lips again, slipping his tongue across your teeth as he deepens the kiss. The taste of you lingered in his mouth.

Your hands glided down his pants to feel how hard he was. It wasn’t the first time you felt his hard cock, but you managed to be surprised by the massive length everytime. His groans vibrated through the kiss as your hands wrapped around him, giving a slight squeeze.

“Fuck, you’re so ho-”

“Aye, Tae! You gonna stay in your room all damn day?!” Jungkook interrupts him by yelling from downstairs. One thing that you’ve learned while hooking up with Taehyung is that no one can ever get peace and quiet at a frat house.

Tae cursed under is breath before peeling himself off of you. He was obviously annoyed that what was about to happen just got disrupted, but he didn’t show it when he yelled back to Jungkook. “I’ll be down in a few minutes!” He rolled his eyes and sighed when he looked back down at you.

“Raincheck?” you begin to sit up by him. He couldn’t look at you without skimming down your bare body first.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No need. We can just see each other tomorrow or something?” You pull your shirt over your head. When your head pops into your shirt hole, you notice him smirking at your body in front of him. He finally looks back up at you with a look that you’ve never seen before on him: innocence.

“Text me when you get back?” He asks with puppy dog eyes. You looked at him with a confused face. He’s never cared to text you unless you both wanted to fuck or to exchange dirty pictures and the look on his face says he wanted to have an actual conversation with you now.

“Yeah, sure,” you nod. You were now completely dressed as he snuck you out of the house using the back door. You had to admit that it sucked having to be secretive about your hook ups. If people found out, both you and Tae would lose your best friends.

Your best friend, Hannah, used to date Tae’s best friend, Jungkook. Everything was great. All of Hannah’s friends were friends with Jungkook’s friends and it became a big group of people that hung out all the time. Until they broke up. After Hannah found out that Jungkook sleezed around with a few random girls, she figured it would be a good idea to get him back by sending his nudes to half of the college. It was safe to say that whatever they had was done for good. Now, they hate each other and everyone associated with them. With the break up still being a fresh wound for both of them and, the hooking up between you and Tae only being about three months so far, you both decided to keep it a secret. You both didn’t want to lose your best friends for something that wasn’t even a relationship to begin with, so the only thing you had to hide was the sex.

“Bye, cutie,” he whispers, smacking your ass lightly on the way out of the door.

You giggle and wave goodbye before driving back to the dorms where Hannah, also your dorm mate, is laying on her bed glued to her phone as always. When you walk through the dorm door, she doesn’t peel her eyes from the screen when she speaks.

“You heard about the party tonight?” Her tone sounds bored as she talks.

“No? Who’s throwing it?”

“Some rando. They’ve been telling people that they can’t get in without a date, like, what is this? Prom?” she scoffs.

“Well we just need to find someone for us, duh. You act like Jimin doesn’t have the biggest crush on you,” you say, plopping yourself on your bed.

She looks over at you, considering the option. “Honestly… not a bad idea and if he gets handsy, I’ll drop him at the party,” she causes both of you to laugh. Jimin was known to be a bit of a player. “Maybe you could bring Jin? I know you got a thing for seniors,” she jokes.

You roll your eyes, “It was one time! After that I’m strictly sticking to our age: sophomores.” The one time you hook up with a senior, he was emotionally unstable and confessed his ‘love’ for you after one week of knowing him. Not to mention, he continuously sent you pictures of him crying when you told him to leave you alone. Hannah never fails to let you forget about that extremely awkward time.

“Whatever. He’s hot so who cares?” she shrugs. You thought about how Jin is also in the frat house, but never really associated himself with Jungkook. You decided to give him a text, since you had his number from working with him on a previous project and, shortly after, he agrees.

Jin: For sure! I’ll meet you outside of the party at 8?

You: Sounds good! See you then :)

You realize that you never texted Tae when you got back, so you decided to do it now.

You: I’m back btw. Sorry forgot to text ya

You gnawed the inside of your cheek while waiting for his response. You probably would’ve bitten a hole in your cheek if he didn’t respond back quickly after.

Taehyung: No problem. Heard about the party tonight?

You: Yeah I’m going, are you?

Taehyung: Yes. Who are you going with?

You: Seokjin

After that, the conversation stopped.

•••

Tae couldn’t stop the clenching of his jaw as he walked over to Jin’s room across the hallway. Without saying a word, he pushed open his door causing Jin to jump. He was in the middle of buttoning up his shirt in front of a mirror. Unopened condoms laying on Jin’s nightstand were in Tae’s direct line of vision.

“Getting ready for the party I see,” Tae stares at the yellow square links on the table as he made himself comfortable on his bed.

“Yeah (Y/N) asked me to go with her tonight. Hopefully I’ll be able to use these,” Jin shoves the condoms in his pocket. Tae laughs, trying to hold back the urge to punch Jin in the face right then and there.

“Yeah, you’re not going tonight,” Tae says.

Jin turns around to look at Taehyung, obviously confused. “Why?”

“Because if I see you in that house tonight, I’ll break your jaw,” Tae gets up from the bed, walking past Jin while patting his back. “Oh, I’ll take those condoms too,” he holds out his hand and looks at Jin.

He scoffs before slapping the condoms into Taehyung’s palm. People in the frat house knew one thing: never argue with Taehyung.

•••

It was now 7:55. You, Hannah, and Jimin waited outside of the party, watching the couples pour into the house. Jimin had his arm snaked around Hannah’s waist, which she had no problem showing how much it annoyed her with the look on her face.

It was cool enough outside to be able to see the puff of air that came out of everyone’s mouths everytime someone breathed. Your outfit wasn’t made for the weather, given the fact you expected Jin to be on time. He seemed like a nice enough guy to not stand you up, but here you were.

“You guys don’t have to wait out here with me,” you plead for them to just go inside, so you could be in your feelings by yourself. They had no problem taking you up on your offer, which left you outside standing there like an idiot since no one else was walking into the party. Hugging your arms to your chest to maintain whatever warmth you still had, you sat yourself on the curb. You had no ride back to your dorms since Jimin was the one that gave everyone a ride.

“Looking for somebody?” A deep voice startles you from behind. Realizing it was Taehyung when you turn around.

“Not anymore. I just want to go home,” your teeth chatter together. Your fingers felt as if they were going to go numb any second now.

“Come on, I can take you if you want,” he lays his jacket over your shoulders and pulls you up.

Although he was being extremely sweet right now, you knew that this was his fault. He lived with Jin and was the only one that knew that you and him were going together, other than Hannah of course. Annoyance struck a chord within you when you stood face to face with him.

“You know, if I could change these circumstances I would,” you say.

“What?”

“If things weren’t how they were right now, I would love to be with you Tae. Why do you have to make this so hard? Pushing people away from me? I know you are the reason I’m standing out here in the freezing cold and not in that house with Jin right now!” Your blood began to boil as you continued talking and you could see that his was starting to as well with the look of his jaw bulging out the sides of his face.

“I’m driving you home, now,” he hissed through his teeth before taking your hand in his. As much as you would’ve fought back in that moment, it was too cold outside to say no to your only way home. You sat in his passenger seat, farthest away from him. The hard slam of his door made you avoid eye contact with him as he drove. The ride was silent. You stared out the window, not noticing the fact that Taehyung’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel.

“Look, I don’t understand why you’re so mad.” You were honestly so fed up with his attitude, considering he had ruined what could’ve been a good night. It’s not like you wanted to come with Jin, but that fact that Taehyung went the extra mile to fuck it up had you more than pissed off.

“You know damn well why I’m mad! You took Jin, out of all people. You forget to text me back, no doubt texting him asking if he wanted to go with you!” You roll your eyes, fingers playing with a loose thread on the side of your dress. A couple responses of retaliation run through your brain, but before you can even start to yell at him, the idiot is still talking. “Why did you even have to go to that stupid party? Jungkook went so we just could’ve stayed at my place, but no. You had to go with Jin.”

You inhale a breath. “Alright first of all, it’s not like I was waiting for an oppurtunity to go with him, now you’re just being stupid.” You can practically feel the tension grow. “What are you even angry about? Like this is pointless. I can’t go with you, so I brought Jin. It’s not like we were going to fuck, or kiss, or makeout. You’re just whining at this point.”

Taehyung tries to talk but you cut him off.

“We’re not even really dating so why the hell do you care?”

Now you’ve really done it, because you’re almost sure he’s stopped breathing. It sounds so dead in the car that the blood rushing in your ears is deafening at this point. Taehyung keeps driving and the houses that your eyes follow come to an end as the street is lined with trees and nothing else for miles.

Knuckles paper white, he turns the steering wheel to the right so he can pull off to the side of the road. With the help of the shitty street lamp that provides you little to no light. The look on Taehyung’s face as he throws the car in park is nothing, if not terrifying. Now you’re wishing you hadn’t said anything.

“You really just fucking said that to me?” Your heart is slamming against your sternum as he kills the engine. You have no words and it feels like hours before you finally look up to meet his gaze. You almost detect a glint of hurt in his eyes, but with the dim lighting you can’t really tell. “We don’t have to be dating for me to care. We don’t even have to be fucking, for me to care. I cared about you way before we started hooking up. I cared before Jungkook and Hannah got into that huge fight.”

You feel his emotions rolling off of him in waves, but he doesn’t let up. “Then, you go to this dumb party, with Jin. You know he was planning to bring condoms?” Taehyung moves closer to you now, you can feel his breath on your face. Maybe that’s because he isn’t done cussing you out. “I find that hilarious that Jin even thinks he has a chance. That, what? He was going to fuck you tonight? Touch you, make you moan like you do for me?”

You let those words sink in, knowing damn well that Jin would’ve gotten nowhere if he tried to make a move. Looking at his eyes, you find that you can’t even look away from his stare. Like it’s holding you down to the seat.

“You think he would, babygirl?” Taehyung lets out a slight growl that’s almost animalistic, but it still makes your nerves light on fire. “Treat you better than daddy does?” You know that tone like the back of your hand, and you know he’s waiting for an answer. The next time you look back to his eyes, there’s a mischievous look to them like he knows exactly what his next move is gonna be.

“No, daddy.”

He hums in approval. “Good girl. Get in the backseat. When I’m done with you, you’re gonna forget who the hell Jin is.”

You obliged by scrambling to the back seat and watch him walk into the back to meet you there. His belt buckle was already undone when he pulled you into a long hot kiss. His breath was hot between the kisses. His tongue skillfully traveling inside your mouth and your neck. Your hand felt the fabric covering his dick and found it to already be rock hard underneath. “Let’s finish what we couldn’t earlier,” his voice is low. Your fingers unzipped his pants to pull them down and fall at his ankles. His length raised from the lack of constraint. “Show me how sorry you are for earlier. Daddy isn’t too pleased about what I heard.”

His hand pushed the back of your head for your lips to make contact with his cock. You wrapped your mouth around the tip, working your way down his length. His hand was grabbing a ball of your hair, using that to his advantage to push you down deeper. Your throat stretched for him, spit gathering on the sides of your mouth. It wasn’t long before he was watching you gag repeatedly on his dick. The feeling of your throat closing around him made his head throw back in pleasure. He was fucking your throat raw, thrusting up into you and pouring every ounce of feeling from earlier into you. His teeth bite his bottom lip back to keep himself together.

He pulled your head back from his dick to catch your breath. His hands traveled up your dress, stopping at your damp underwear. He pressed his thumb against your clit as his other hand yanked your dress above your bare chest. He had no problem picking your petite body to sit on top of him, the wet base of his cock now under you. He pulled his lips to your ear, “I don’t forgive you yet, babygirl.” His hand slaps your ass hard, yet the delicious sting makes you drip on top of him.

You grinded circles against him, his hands squeezing and smacking your breasts. The lack of light made him look almost demonic with the blackness filling his eyes.

You finally slam down on him, causing him to suck in his breath sharply. You wanted him to feel sorry too. His hands grip and pull your ass apart. You bounced on top of him, making sure to feel the friction of your clit against his stubbly pubic bone. Your moans squeaked as he slipped his pinky into your ass. The pressure of another one of your holes being filled has your back arching. Relentlessly still smacking the same place on your ass, you were sure that there was going to be a welt there tomorrow.

His fingers wrapped around your throat to pull you close. His lips pressed against yours as he fucks up into you. You could hear him growl when he pulls your lip between his teeth, pulling and letting it snap back in place. He could tell you were close, this was the moment he was waiting for. His hand dips down to smash into your clit. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your left without breath. You were so close, but he wasn’t going to let you come yet.

“Say my name,” he instructs.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whimper. He smacks your ass again, a whine falling from your lips.

“No, my name,” his pace and force leaves your body jolting back and fourth. You wanted to let go already, but he wasn’t done with you.

“Yes, Taehyung,” Your mouth stays open, nonexistent screams try to escape.

“Louder,” he growls, the grip on your throat tightening slightly.

“Fuck me, Taehyung!” You scream his name from pleasure repeatedly until you both couldn’t contain yourselves anymore. His thrusts stutter inside of you until his warmth spreads inside your abdomen. His arms pull your body against his, chest heaving under you. He stayed inside of you, both of you laying there silent. Eventually, he pulled your face up with his finger under your chin. The kiss he planted was gentle and soft against your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, examining the features he could in the lighting.

He had to make sure he didn’t say anything that he would regret, so he cut the moment short. “Maybe we should get going again. It’s pretty cold,” he laughs lightly. Now remembering the heat wasn’t on, you pushed your dress back down to your thighs.

You agreed as you both climbed back up to the front seat. He insisted that you could keep his jacket on for the ride back since your dress was too skimpy to begin with. That comment made you roll your eyes, but you took the jacket anyways. The ride back to your dorm was enjoyable afterwards. Filled with you guys blaring songs and singing along, realizing that he could actually sing. You found both of you laughing at the same stupid things and enjoying each others presence without being sexual. Taehyung took the long way back to the dorm just to spend more time with you, but he never said anything and hoped you didn’t notice.

Although he took the long way home, you found yourself parked outside of the dorm in no time. His hand rested on your leg, the smile on his face spreading from ear to ear. You didn’t know how to say goodbye after the rollercoaster of events that happened tonight.

“(Y/N), can we take this to the next level? I’ve been wanting to actually hang out with you other than having sex for awhile now. I don’t care what Jungkook would say anymore, I want to be with you,” his hand interlaces with yours.

You sat there completely silent. You wanted to say yes, but you just couldn’t. You let the jacket fall off your shoulders and you slid away from his grasp. His smile faded when he saw that you weren’t as enthusiastic about the idea like he was.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Tae. But, Hannah has been my best friend for years now and…” you trail off. “I’m sorry. I can’t,” you look up to see that he’s not even looking at you anymore. His gaze was directed towards his hands on the steering wheel. Your heart broke by how defeated he looked in front of you. He said nothing else and you felt it was best to step out of the car to not make the situation worse.

As soon as you closed the door shut, he sped off. You were outside alone once again.

Requested by: I lost the usernames from the rest of my requests, so I’m sorry :(

#bangtan seonyeondan #bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts imagines #kim taehyung #taehyung #v #jeon jungkook #jungkook #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #v x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader

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saharamae21 · 4 years ago

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All of My Wrongs - Chapter Three

Pairing: Topper x OC and Rafe x OC

Summary: Aurora goes dress shopping with Rafe for Midsummers, but she can’t quite pinpoint how she feels about him. Everything he does feels intimate to her, sending reactions through her mind and body. However, the emotional connection just doesn’t seem there yet. She’s scared that she will never be enough for him. Midsummers just might prove that theory right to her.

A/N: Sorry if these first chapters come off as boring. Its going to be a slow moving fic in order for me to really build connections with the characters. I really like it though and I hope you do too… Let me know what you think! I really want some feedback on this…

Also Chapter 4 is almost done

Get Added to this Series Taglist

____________________________________________

I woke up in the morning, smiling at the thought of what laid ahead of me. I was going dress shopping in the morning. Rafe was supposed to pick me up in an hour and I hadn’t even begun to get ready. I rushed into the bathroom to shower, making sure not to get my hair wet. When I got out, I quickly curled my hair and threw on some natural make up. I wondered if it would be enough to live up to Rafe’s standards. I knew I would really have to step it up to look perfect at Midsummers tonight. I slipped a dressy top over my nicest and cutest bra. I pulled on a white jean skirt and observed myself in the mirror. I looked good. I walked down the steps and waited in the living room, feeling pleased with myself.

“Wow Rory,” my dad said upon entering the room. “You cleaned up very nicely.”

I dramatically made a gagging motion at the compliment, smiling afterwards. He chuckled at me and told me to have fun on my date. Before I could correct him, he was gone. This wasn’t a date, but it certainly felt like it. I was dressed up and nervously fidgeting, just like how I imagined I would be for a date. I heard a vehicle pull up to my house and smiled. I slipped out the front door and saw Rafe, proudly staring at me over the handlebars of a bike.

“Wow, buttercup,” he said, looking me up and down. I bit my lips together, feeling my skin heat up under his gaze. I stared at the bike as he got off and handed me a helmet. I opened my mouth to protest, but he just took the helmet out of my hands and placed it over his head. “I’ll go slow.”

The smirk on his face grew with his words. I rolled my eyes at his cocky attitude and hesitantly got on. He told me to hold on tight and I wrapped my arms around his waist. I squeezed my eyes closed as we sped off. My arms tighten around him as initial fear arose. He slowed down after that. Still, I squeezed my eyes shut the whole way there.

The bike came to a stop and I opened my eyes slowly. Rafe’s huge blue eyes were staring back at me, his pupils dilated. He seemed pleased with how tightly I was clinging to him. I dropped my arms and he got off the bike. He helped me pull the helmet off my head and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked. I wrinkled up my nose at his sarcastic tone. “Come on buttercup, we have a ferry to catch.”

The ferry ride to Chapel Hill was long. I stood next to Rafe, his arm slung over my shoulder as I stared at the water below us. My hands were on the rails, but not tightly enough. I felt something bump into my back, sending me into the rail. Rafe’s arms caught me by the waist, making sure I didn’t go overboard. He shot glares at the younger boy who had ran into me. His hands lingered on my waist as he looked at me. I shifted uncomfortably under the attention, making him chuckle.

“I don’t remember you being this shy when we first met,” he said.

“You think you’re so sly,” I muttered, pushing him away from me. I rolled my eyes as I made my way over to the other side of the ferry. I see Chapel Hill in sight and smile at how beautiful it looks. It looked old and serene.

We got off the boat, moving quickly around the dock. He gripped my wrist as he navigated me to a less busy area. From there we walked to the shopping district. It was lined with cute boutiques and fancy shops. I knew I didn’t have enough money for these places, yet I didn’t speak up. I didn’t want to embarrass myself.

We slipped into a small boutique and Rafe’s eyes bounced back and forth. He was scanning the store for something. Then, out of no way, he grabbed my hand and guided me over to a rack of light blue dresses. I stared at him and then back at the rack.

“Why blue?” I asked. I flipped through the rack carefully.

“Well, you’re dirty blonde hair would compliment the soft blue color,” he said, twirling a strand of my hair. Then his fingers brushed across my shoulder. “The fairness of your skin would also accent it well.” I shuddered under his touch. Everything he did seemed so intimate. I brushed his hand off of my skin and focused on the dresses in front of me. One stood out, but the price tag ruined it’s beauty. I flipped past it, but he grabbed it off the rack. He held it up against my body and smirked.

“Perfect. Go try it on,” he said, pushing the dress into my hands. I looked at it, not wanting to argue with him. I smiled and walked towards the dressing rooms. I slipped into the light blue dress. It was covered with a floral bodice. The skirt portion was short, falling just above my knees. It fit perfectly and when I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I smiled. I looked sophisticated and beautiful. I heard Rafe call out for me, wanting to see the dress. I slipped out of the dressing room and locked eyes with him.

“Wow…” he muttered. His eyes stared at me. For the first time, his face had no smirk. There wasn’t a sly smile and he wasn’t undressing me with his eyes. He was staring. He was admiring me. He was smiling, wholesomely. A warm feeling swelled up inside me. “You look beautiful.”

He took a couple steps closer. I looked down at my feet in embarrassment, but he tilted my chin up to look at him. His smile was contagious as his hand caressed my face gently. He treated me like something special. My face was burning under his attention, my skin was on fire. I must’ve been beet red. He flicked my forehead, completely ruining the moment. I laughed and shoved him.

“Hey, we’ll take this dress,” Rafe yelled at a cashier, while taking the tag off. I muttered at him to not be rude and looked at myself one more time. It looked beautiful, but my parents would murder me. I watched as Rafe walked over the counter and pull out his wallet. I ran over and grabbed it away from him. “Don’t worry about it and go change.”

He took his wallet back and pushed me towards the changing rooms. I opened my mouth to protest, but I knew I wouldn’t win. I walked back into the room and slipped off the dress, allowing it to fall carelessly against the floor. I stepped into my skirt and pulled my shirt on over my head. I grabbed the dress, gently putting it back onto the hanger and walked out. They covered the dress with a garbage bag and handed it to Rafe. He thanked them and smiled, slipping his hand into mine on the way out. It was my first time holding hands with a guy. I bit my lip and wondered if my hand was too sweaty.

We walked a ways, neither of us saying a word. I thought to myself intently. I wondered if I liked Rafe or not. He was fun to be around, but I didn’t have a good read on him. I didn’t know if he would be about to handle me. I didn’t know if I could trust him.

We found our way back to the dock, after taking the long way there. His face was contorted with thought as he sat next to me. I wondered what he was thinking about. I smiled at him before standing up and walking back over to the railing. I loved the feeling of the mist against my face. I looked back at Rafe to see him staring at me. His eyes were different than before and it confused me.

He dropped me off at home, telling me that he would pick me up at 7. I smiled and nodded before walking inside. The dress was tucked tightly on my arm. I tried to slip up to my room undetected, but it didn’t work.

“He’s handsome,” my mom said as wiggled her eyebrows at me.

“He’s a friend,” I said with a smile. I didn’t even know if I was romantically interested in him or not yet. He was handsome, but everything seemed like a game to him. He would manipulate me and use me. I could never subject myself to that when I was already so unstable.

I spent the rest of the afternoon, pacing back and forth. I tried to wrap my head around why I didn’t feel romantically about Rafe. He made my heart flutter, but in the end, I couldn’t picture myself in a long term relationship with him. Maybe I just didn’t know him well enough yet.

I found myself in the dress. My hair was in loose waves and I put a white flower crown on. My makeup was light and natural and the freckles on my face accented it well. I slipped on some comfortable wedges and walked down the steps. My parents were waiting downstairs, smiling at me as I descended down the curved staircase. I felt like a princess ready for the ball. When I got to the bottom I heard laughter from my brother and rolled my eyes.

“Skip, leave your sister alone,” dad snapped at him. “You look beautiful, Rory.”

I thanked him and heard a car in our driveway. I told my parents not to wait up for me and walked out the front door. I was a little scared that he would show up on the bike, but instead it was nice sports car. He got out and I say that he was in this awful light blue suit. I couldn’t contain my laughter. He rolled his eyes as he walked up to me offering me his arm.

“Is this why you picked blue?” I snorted as I laughed.

“Shut up…” he muttered and opened the car door for me. I smirked as I got in. We drove to the country club. I made a joke about his suit every chance I could. I could tell I was getting under his skin a little bit, but in a good way. I think he liked to know that I could dish it out as well as he could.

The venue was gorgeous. There were strings of lights and beautiful decor everywhere. I was stunned by the visuals. I grabbed onto Rafe’s arm and we walked out together, receiving some stares from everyone else. We walked about greeting people and listening to others congratulate Rafe and his father. I could tell by his reaction that he didn’t have the best relationship with his dad. Everytime Ward was mentioned, his body tensed. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. I was standing by the drinks when I notice the boy from earlier. He looked troubled. I thought about going over to talk to him, but I had a feeling he would be less than pleased to see me again. I sighed and looked around. Somehow, Rafe had disappeared from my side. I looked around, searching for any sign of him. Instead, I found Topper.

“Hey Bottom,” I said while walking up. He relaxed for a second when he saw me. His off white colored suit looked amazing on him. I couldn’t help smiling. “Hey Rory,” he said. My nickname sounded so foreign coming from his mouth.

“Have you seen Rafe?” I asked. I looked around and still no sign of him. He shook his head and offered to keep me company. I gladly accepted and sighed at the abandonment. How could he just disappear on me like that? I grabbed a drink, noticing everyone was drinking underage. I was sipping the wine and joking around with Topper when I heard my name being called. I handed Topper my glass and walked towards the lobby. Rafe was there with a few of his friends who I had never met before, “See guys,” he said, grabbing my forearm and pulling me towards him. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

I stumbled towards him as he pulled me. He held me in front of his friends, flaunting me like a trophy. I felt my shoulders sink as he showed me off. This night wasn’t about me fitting in, it was about him bragging to his friends. Everything would cycle back to him and I now knew that. I noticed his eyes were huge, his pupils dialated to an alarming size. I also noticed a white powder on his face and stared. He wiped at his nose as he noticed my gaze. He was high out of his mind right now. I frowned, knowing that this must’ve been a coping mechanism. It must’ve taken his mind off of his dad and all the attention that he drew. I felt bad for him, so I didn’t lecture him that I wasn’t his possession. I didn’t destroy his ego. I bit my tongue like I always did. I watched as his eyes shifted over to a blonde boy, not to far from us.

“Run along buttercup,” he said. “I’ll catch up with you later. The boys and I have some business to take care of.”

With that they walked towards the boy, he looked like he was trying to go unnoticed. I wondered who it was and why they were interest in him. I wanted to go after them, but I knew that would only make them not like me. I wanted them to like me. I wanted them to want to hang out with me, but obviously there were more pressing matters to take care of.

“I’m here if you want me,” I mutter sarcastically, before turning on my heels and heading to find Topper again.

___________________________________________

Tag List : @outerbankslut @jellyfishbeansontoast @jiaraendgame @bricksatanakinswindow @outerbongs @kiarascarreras @ilovejjmaybank @potterheadhollander @rudths @spilledtee @queenieloveswriting @multifandomlovess @starlightstarkey @tomhardybby @diverdcwn @sadcupofcoffee

#obx topper #outer banks topper #topper #topper thornton #topper thorton x reader #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #obx netflix #obx

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such-fun · 5 years ago

Text

Fic: Closer to the Light 2/? Kylo Ren x Reader

Closer to the Light

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Summary: You rejected the Force once, but it’s pull won’t be denied.

Spoilers: No TROS spoilers. Takes place just before The Force Awakens and continues from there. Rey will feature but not as heavily.

Tag list: @babsbixby, @i-am-lokii-of-asgard, @holacherrycola90, @bookworm-nerd6, @fanofallthingsnstuff, @bulba-bulbasaur, @thomasscresswell, @vampgguk, @johnnysactualgf, @siobhanlovesfilm

Two:

Poe had felt immense relief when a stormtrooper, of all people, managed to help him escape the First Order.

He could honestly admit he had not seen that coming. From what they knew of the Order, troopers were taken as children and brainwashed into loyal servants who laid down their lives for the men and women in power who viewed them as expendable. He never thought he would meet one who could break whatever conditioning they had been put through.

Not that it was impossible to imagine, but more so that the Resistance believed anyone who the Order failed to control would have been killed on sight.

Whether Finn was just lucky or not had yet to be seen. He was no longer FN-2187, and it would take time to see if Finn could be a man that the Resistance could truly rely on. But Poe had hope that Finn would be a valuable asset, as well as someone he could call a friend one day.

That is, if he even made it off Jakku.

After they crashed into the planet that Finn was so reluctant to return to, Poe had woken alone and injured.

And annoyingly missing his favorite jacket.

The fighter looked to have split upon entry into Jakku. He couldn’t find a trace of Finn and didn’t have the means to look for BB-8 on his own.

Running into a scavenger named Naka Iit was pure luck.

Poe had turned on the charm and told the man all about his rather epic escape from the First Order. He thought Naka would be taken aback by his heroics. Instead, the man thought he was crazy.

Well, crazy, but entertaining as well. So Naka agreed to give him a ride to the Niima Outpost.

And because Poe’s life was nothing if not an adventure, they were attacked and shot at by scavengers along the way. Poe, as skilled and scrappy as ever, managed to evade their attackers and they reached the outpost in one piece, if a little worse for wear.

From the outpost he was able to charter passage to Yavin IV from a merchant. And once planet-side was reunited with his beloved X-wing.

His return to D’Qar was unexpected but extremely welcome.

He could hear the mix of surprise and relief over the transmission as he radioed in to the base, letting them know it was really him about to enter their airspace.

The last thing he needed was to get shot out of the sky. Again. And by his own friends, no less.

His movements were a little slow and the bruises and blood on his face caused worry among his fellow rebels, but they still greeted him with wide grins and gentle hugs.

The sea of people parted as the General made her way to him, a motherly smile on her face and a hint of a tear in her eye.

Leia held his battered face in her hands, pained at the signs of his torture and all the suffering he had endured. Poe raised his hands, gripping her wrists lightly, as if to physically reassure her that he was there. That he was okay.

Bruised, yes, but not broken.

“It’s good to have you back,” she whispered for his ears only.

“Wait ’til I tell you how it happened,” he smirked, with a small chuckle.

“That will have to wait, Commander,” Leia announced reprovingly, but the tiny sparkle in her eye told him she was looking forward to the story. “You’re needed in medical.”

Poe didn’t fight her, and allowed himself to be lead toward Doctor Kalonia and her eager staff of medical officers. The General didn’t leave his side.

He was seated in front of the good doctor, but aside from giving her a nod of hello, all his attention was on his General.

“What news of the map?” Leia asked firmly. Poe didn’t take her change in tone personally. This was war after all.

“I retrieved the map from Lor San Tekka,” he replied with a frown. “The village was flooded with stormtroopers in minutes. I managed to get out but they grabbed San Tekka. I gave BB-8 the map and told him to go. That I’d find him later.

“Ren was there,” Poe added softly. He had to give the General credit, she didn’t flinch at the mention of her son. “He tried to get San Tekka to talk, but he refused. They—killed him.”

Leia closed her eyes and sighed. Poe gave her a moment to process the loss. When she looked to him once more, he continued.

“I tried to stop him—them. He stopped my blaster shot in midair,” Poe shook his head. “Used the Force to keep me from running, and had me dragged onto their ship. Ren ordered the village slaughtered.

“I’m—I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it,” his voice trembled but the General dismissed his apology with a sorrowful smile.

“There’s nothing you could have done,” she consoled him, even as she knew it would not help relieve their shared pain.

“General Hux had me interrogated on their ship,” he recounted. “You’ll be happy to know their interrogators are unimpressive.” The proud smirk on his lips twitched when he thought of what followed.

“Ren came when they couldn’t get me to talk.” Leia nodded, knowing that Poe, despite his resilience and strength, would have been no match for Kylo Ren’s mastery of the Force.

“I fought, I tried to keep him out of my head,” he growled, and Doctor Kalonia paused her ministrations, waiting for him to calm before she resumed cleaning his cuts.

“How much does he know?” the General asked, her voice sympathetic and understanding.

“He knows BB-8 has the map,” Poe admitted shamefully.

“We’ll send a team to look for the droid,” she declared calmly, nodding to an officer who hovered nearby. He nodded pointedly and left to inform the rest of the council.

“General,” Poe drew her attention once more, and Leia was concerned at the anguish she saw in his eyes. “Ren—when he was looking in my head, through my memories. He—he saw her.”

Leia inhaled sharply and her hands clenched unconsciously. In a strange way it reminded him of Ren’s reaction upon seeing the girl. The poor woman, obviously traumatized, who they had now unintentionally placed in danger.

“I don’t know how they’re connected but whatever Ren’s intentions, they didn’t look good,” Poe lamented, visibly unhappy with the General’s previous decision to leave him in the dark, even if he understood her caution.

“We need to find her,” he shared a long, resolute look with the General, “before he does.”

_________________

It had been a week since you had been visited by Leia’s enigmatic messenger. And nearly as long as you’d slept.

Bone-tired, you hadn’t even managed a trek to the mines since. Rhydonium was unstable enough. Between your jittery hands and sleepy eyes, it would be a recipe for disaster. The last thing you needed to do was drop some and blow yourself up.

You hadn’t even left your encampment. Knowing your luck, you’d hop on your speeder to head into town, pass out, and end up lost in the middle of the desert upon waking. Abafar was full of utter wastelands the locals called The Void.

If anyone mistakenly wandered into the Void, there was a good chance you’d never see them again. Not alive, anyway.

It wasn’t fear that kept you up.

Poe was hardly about to drag you away kicking and screaming. And Leia, while concerned with your well being, seemed content enough to wait you out.

No, it was your own traitorous mind that kept you awake.

The first few days, it was your memory that haunted you. Not just of the massacre at the temple. Of the dead students and Luke’s desolate face. Instead it was Ben that haunted you.

Ben’s smile had always enthralled you. He was serious and understated more than not, but when you could make him laugh or smile, it was hard to resist joining him in his mirth.

He was taller than you by age twelve. Nearly a foot taller by sixteen. You could remember the crick in your neck that would develop after spending so long staring up at him.

Your mind could not seem to reconcile those memories with the man you were confronted with on that fateful night in the temple.

Even when he was reserved, you could always see Ben’s emotions at play on his face. From concentration to concern, fondness to focus, Ben was always feeling something.

It was the blankness on his face that night that spoke volumes. That was not the Ben you had grown up with, not any longer.

And it broke your heart.

You only wish you knew what had happened, what had driven him so far away from the light. If Luke and Leia knew, they never told you. And after enough time passed, there seemed no point in asking. Knowing wouldn’t change anything.

It should have been a relief when your memories finally stopped plaguing you that past night. But what followed merely confused you.

Well into the night, you had laid down once more in hopes in getting a few moments rest. They were few and far between, but all that was keeping you going lately.

Resting your head on your makeshift pillow, you closed your eyes and reveled in the blankness of your mind. The memories that had been playing on repeat granting you a rare reprieve.

And then it began. Your mind, exhausted, felt a sudden tug.

Your eyes opened blearily as you puzzled at the sensation. Rubbing your temples with the heels of your hands, you tried to ignore the strange feeling. You shifted on your bed and pulled your blanket higher up on your body.

The tug gave way to a buzzing and you let out a frustrated grunt. By now your head was beginning to hurt and you whimpered softly. You had no pain reliever in your camp and little way to ease your pain.

Tossing your arm over your eyes to block out all light, you forced yourself to relax. You took a deep, calming breath and tried to open up your mind in hopes of releasing whatever it was that was causing such tension.

It was as if a spark had suddenly ignited.

You felt a wave of emotion, but it didn’t feel like it belonged to you. It felt triumphant. And then for a moment, the feeling had a voice.

“Open your eyes…”

It felt like a whispered plea, and in your wearied state you could do nothing by comply.

Your arm fell to your side and you opened your eyes. Your gaze roamed around your simple tent and the few personal belongings you owned.

Feeling strangely unsatisfied, you turned your stare to the opening of your tent. From there you could see the rusted edge of your speeder, and the outline of the mines in the distance.

There was only so much terrain that was commonly traveled on Abafar and the mines created a distinct landscape that many used as guides and landmarks when journeying to and from the city.

Dissatisfaction turned to pleasure and the foreign emotions, which had before been inviting, turned sinister.

And then you were alone in your mind once again.

Your eyelids fluttered and you didn’t know what to make of what just happened. It had felt as if another person had crept into your mind, but you couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

You had spent so long isolated and cut off from the Force that it’s possible reappearance felt wrong and unwelcome.

If you hadn’t been so weakened, so completely drained in body and mind, you would have been alarmed. You would have jumped from your bed and hopped astride your speeder. You would have run until you could run no more.

But your body was bone-weary and worn out, and gave in to the temptation to sleep.

______________

The sun was shining brighter which told you that hours had passed.

Your head was fuzzy and light, your body still longing for sleep after being deprived for so long. But the whirring noise in the distance that woke you was persistent.

And if you weren’t wrong, it sounded like it was moving closer. Fast.

Rolling out bed, you didn’t bother with your jacket that might have protected you from the dust and sand as you stepped outside. You stumbled out of your tent in your pants and tank top, both of which had seen better days, and finished pulling on your boots as you searched the wide open terrain for the disturbance.

A speck of black caught your eye, hovering low to the ground but never touching the dunes of sand. You cocked your head to the side as you studied it.

Whatever it was, it moved quickly and began to take on a somewhat more familiar shape. Two wings, slightly curved in, circular cockpit. Your heart sped as your brain tried to catch up.

A TIE fighter. Not totally unheard of considering many pilots used Abafar to refuel. But to be so far out of Pons Ora?

You were now wide awake and scrambling toward your landspeeder. You didn’t know what the Order was doing here, and you didn’t want to know.

Left with little choice, you headed toward the mines and the cover they would provide. If the pilot wasn’t interested in you, then he would continue on ahead. If you were his target, you knew the layout of the mines undoubtedly better than him.

When the fighter shifted focus, turning to follow you, there was no doubt who they were after.

The real question was why?

It had to be that conversation with Poe. You didn’t know if someone overheard him mention the General, the Resistance. If someone had thought you were a some sort of spy or member of the rebellion. All you knew what that you needed to make it to the mines.

Your speeder, hardly in its prime, was no match for the TIE, which was gaining ground quickly. The mines were still too far off for comfort.

When the first blast hit, you nearly lost your balance as an explosion of sand and flame landed to your left.

You had no time to process the fact that the blast, while bone-shaking, was still a good distance away from you. That whoever was chasing you didn’t intend to kill you.

At least not so impersonally as a blast from his onboard weapons.

The second blast, landing just a bit behind you, sent your speeder tumbling off course and you flying off. The dunes provided a little cushion as you slammed into the ground.

You were struggling to come to your feet as the TIE fighter came to a stop. Hugging your ribs, you stumbled as the pilot descended.

You blinked, almost sure you had a concussion, confused by the sight of a man clad in black, face covered by a helmet reminiscent of Darth Vader. Smaller and sleeker than what you remembered in holograms and history texts.

That couldn’t be just another First Order pilot, and it definitely wasn’t a stormtrooper.

You tripped over your own feet as you came to a sickening revelation, falling to your knees as your pursuer came into focus. His cape fluttered in the breeze as he approached. Soon he was in front of you. Hovered above you, he silently regarded your bedraggled form.

He called himself Kylo Ren now, you reminded yourself. He wasn’t—this was Kylo Ren. Your heart was beating out of your chest, the rush of blood all you could hear in your ears. Your gaze fell to his boots, your breathing heavy and labored as he remained eerily still.

“Look at me,” he demanded, the cold, mechanical voice that now replaced his once warm and deep tones made you shudder.

Unable to do so, your eyes remained on the ground.

There was the sound of a click and brushes of movement, but you didn’t glance up until you saw his knees bend as he crouched down to meet you at your level.

“Look at me,” he repeated, and recalled the voice in your head last night. His voice.

The mask was gone. In its place was a mess of black hair, achingly familiar, a pair of full lips pulled into a slight frown and finally haltingly recognizable brown eyes.

His face, for all its familiarity, might as well been a mask itself. There was no anger, or curiosity, or happiness. It was like he was studying you. Deciding what to do with you.

And you knew this wasn’t the man you called a friend once. This wasn’t the boy you regarded with a young girl’s first blossom of love. This man was the Jedi Killer. The Commander of the First Order. And yet you still found yourself unable to stop the shattered plea that fell from your lips.

“Ben?”

His eyes narrowed and he jerked away, standing abruptly as his fists clenched. And as you waited for the pain that was sure to follow, he simply waved a hand and your world went black.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #reader #reader insert #star wars #fic: closer to the light #fanfiction #fanfic #poe dameron #finn #Princess Leia #general Leia organa #leia organa #ben solo #luke skywalker #general hux #bb8

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dahliawolfe · 4 years ago

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Fang Shy

Bound pt 2

The Northman house was nothing short of extraordinary. It was tucked in the back lot of an empty cul de sac. It was sleek, black stone; cold silver; and glass. Eric pulls into the circular driveway and cuts the engine. “So, this is all yours?” She asks. “You live alone?”

He studies her quizzically. “Yes. I do not enjoy having houseguests.” She hums in acknowledgement and follows him to the front door. He swings it open to reveal an equally stunning inside. Full of large windows, bright wood floors, and sophisticated furniture.

“Don’t the windows pose a problem to your condition?” she finds herself asking.

“The basement is windowless. That is where I spend the day.”

“Ah. Gotcha. Well, I must say, this is a nice place.” He nods at the compliment and hold his hand out, gesturing toward the stairway.

“Come. I will show you to the master suite.”

…

The master suite, as it turns out, is a lavish room, big enough to house a California king comfortably, with room to spare. The bed is fitted with silver silk sheets and a deep onyx velvet comforter. Cool blue pillows are piled at the head of the bed. The charcoal grey of the walls contrasts with the white oak floors. There is a large master bathroom at the back, a walk in closet to the left, a balcony to the right, and a small lounge area on the back wall. Thais is in heaven. Never in her life has she been somewhere like this.

“You are welcome to change it to your tastes, of course,” Eric says, startling her. She must have been staring at the room for some time.

“No, this is really nice. But are you sure you want me to use it? I mean, I know you have your basement lair or whatever, but this seems a bit excessive to give to someone you don’t know.”

“This is your home now. I wish for you to have this room. If it is to your liking.” Thais nods and takes a seat on the bed, which melts around her. She’s pretty sure she lets out an obscene moan, because Eric’s eyes narrow, and he seems to inhale sharply.

“I know you probably have a few more hours left before you go to sleep for the ni…day, but I’m beat. And that jacuzzi tub in there is calling my name. Would it be alright if I took a bath and hit the hay?” Eric smiled indulgently.

“Of course. Enjoy yourself. I will be in my office just down the hall if you need anything.”

The water immediately relaxes all of her tense muscles, and she lets herself drift just to the edge of sleep before deciding to get out of the tub and dry herself off. She slides a beat up Led Zepplin shirt over her head and flips the covers back, swinging her legs under them before settling in.

Thais is mostly asleep when Eric comes into her room. Kisses her temple lightly, whispers something in a language she doesn’t know, pulls the covers higher over her and leaves the room. It’s the last thing she remembers before falling asleep.

Thais wakes up the next morning and makes her way downstairs, looking for the kitchen. She finally spots it at the back of the house and makes her way inside. On the black marble countertop is a note scrawled in elegant script. Her name is printed on the front. In the cream envelope, she finds a letter, and black credit card, and a set of keys.

“Thais, inside are my credit card, the keys to our home, and a spare set of keys to my car. Make yourself at home. I will see you at nightfall.

-Eric”

She stares down at the keys in her hand. Is he seriously letting her borrow his very nice, very expensive sportscar? Maybe she could get used to this.

The back garden boasts a beautiful pool and lounge area, and Thais plans to take full advantage of them both. She digs out the little black bikini she had stored in her bag months ago on a trip to LA and slides it on. She grabs a book, her cigarettes, and her phone and makes her way outside.

…

Thais has normally golden skin, but the early autumn rays are making it glow even more, and when she slides into the heated pool, she moans. She doesn’t remember the last time she was this comfortable. She’s nearly dozing against the edge of the pool when her phone rings. She lifts herself out of the water, snagging her towel and laying back on the lounger before answering. “Hello,” she says, laying her head back, pushing her sunshades down her nose.

“Thai. Are you alright?” It’s Sookie.

“Oh, hey, Sook. Yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”

“Did Eric tell you that the meeting with the visiting sheriff is tonight?”

“Ummm…no? Why?”

“I have to go. It’s a long story, but I’ve got quite the connection to the supe community now.”

Thais chuckles. “I leave you alone for five minutes and you get yourself into a pickle. Ok, so what am I wearing?”

…

Thais walks in the front door just as the sun is making its descent. Shopping bags on one arm, iced coffee in the other hand. She’d agreed to meet Sookie in nearby Shreveport to do some shopping. She’d come away with a little more than she’d gone in search of, but she thinks she found an appropriate outfit for the night. A nude, scoop neck dress that hugged her curves and stopped just above her knees and a pair of sapphire peep toe pumps. She makes her way to her room to get ready, hoping to beat Eric before he could leave her behind.

…

“Hey, wait for me!” Thais exclaims, making her way to the front door, where Eric is trying to leave. He turns to look at her, his eyes widening slightly, and Thais’s brain is flooded with waves of lust from the invisible link connecting her mind to his.

“Did you need something, Thais?” he asks, his accent thickening.

“I just wanted to ride with you to the meeting.” He frowns.

“You are not going.”

“But I am.” She quickly held up her hand to stop his objection. “Listen, I can be an asset. I can tap into everyone’s thoughts, that new sheriff’s included. If there’s danger to anyone, I can say something. Eric, I’m not some wall flower that’s gonna sit back and let you put yourself in danger, when I can help you.”

His frown deepens. “Fine. But you will not leave my side.”

“Deal.”

…

Eric’s hand presses into the small of her back as he leads her inside. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way,” he states, a whisper to her ear.

“Thanks,” she replies, dipping her head shyly.

A large man greets them at the front door of the mansion where the meeting was to be held. He sneers at Eric, and Thais feels her hackles raise. She’s getting a bad feeling already, and the night hasn’t even begun.

…

The loud swears in Norse spilling from Eric’s mouth fill her ears, while his angry thoughts and emotions swim through her mind. He’s pissed. As he should be. The cocksure motherfucker new sheriff of shit mountain has just come in and made demands that Eric is unwilling to meet.

“Now, Eric. That’s not very neighborly of you. All I’m asking is for a little help to get started out right. And a stake in Fangtasia would be just the thing for that,” speaks the vamp, a snaky, teenage looking Brit, who keeps giving Thais leering smiles.

“Absolutely not! This is my territory, and Fangtasia is my club! How dare you threaten me!” Leopold, the new sheriff, had all but threatened to sick his mob on Eric if he didn’t comply with his wishes.

“Oh, my dear Eric, it wasn’t a threat. Think on it.” With that, Leopold stands. He motions to his guards. “Escort my company out, Daydric. Be especially careful with Miss Stackhouse and Miss Adrieux.”

The guard reaches for Thais’s hand, and she quickly swerves, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back. The guy is a were, and Eric and Bill had been on edge all night because of it. Wolves and vampires did not go together, so the fact that Leopold had them as guards was disturbing. Thais is pleased at the grunt of pain the man emits when she forces his arm behind his back.

“I’ll thank you not to touch me, Daydric,” she hisses in his ear. Eric gets between them quickly.

“You touch her, and you die,” he warns simply, taking Thais’s hand and leading her out to the car.

…

The energy in the car on the way back to Eric’s house is electric. Thais has no doubt that he’s angry. She would be too. Leopold had all but waltzed in and aimed a killing blow at Eric. Thais had heard the new sheriff’s thoughts, and he planned to do much more than take Eric’s territory, club, and life. The things he had imagined doing to Thais, well, she’ll be having nightmares about that for months.

…

Thais stops just inside the front door to remove her heels. When she turns, Eric is studying her.

“Eric, are you alright?” she asks, laying a hand on his arm.

“I would never allow him to hurt you,” he swears quietly.

“I know,” she assures.

“He thought things of you, didn’t he? I could feel your discomfort?”

“I…” she doesn’t complete her answer, simply lets her hand drop and stares at the floor. Eric lifts her chin gently.

“You are protected.”

“Eric, before I came here…Well, I haven’t had an easy time of it. And I’ve faced some pretty fucked up shit, but Leopold, the things that he has in mind…He’s unstable. And honestly, if everyone comes out of this alive, we’ll all be lucky. Damaged, but lucky.”

“Sweetheart, he could rip the heart from my chest, and I would not stop until you were safe.” Thais studies his piercing eyes. His mind brushes hers, and it’s comforting and calming. She can only assume that he’s figured out how to project his feelings on to her, and she smiles. Because no one has ever taken the time to even attempt to learn to do that for her. When he leans down, she accepts his kiss gladly.

Eric quickly deepens the kiss, drawing her closer, a hand going to the back of her neck, cupping her and tugging her to him. Soon enough, his large hands go to the underside of her thighs, lifting her up. Eric pins her to the wall, holding her between his body and the cold plaster. One of his hands snakes into her panties, and she moans when his finger dips inside her.

“Fuck,” she breathes against his lips.

“I believe we will,” he teases, giving her a devilish smile. He pumps his long finger into her before adding a second. She whimpers into his neck. “Yes, you like that don’t you, Little One? Do you think I can make you come just from this?” And, hell yes, she thinks she can come from the delicious fingers in her pussy. And when he crooks one just right and hits her gspot, she wails, fingers roughly pulling at his jacket. “Limt kompis, work yourself against my fingers.” Thais throws her head back, roughly riding his fingers, even as he adds a third, she rolls her hips and slams down against the palm he has pressed to her clit. “Good girl. Now, come for me,” he softly demands. And lord help her, she does. She springs apart with a cry of his name. And she swears she blacks out for a second because the next thing she knows, her back is hitting the couch, and Eric is spearing her on his cock. She immediately orgasms again, still on the cusp of her first. And Eric isn’t gentle, but he’s very considerate, listening intently to her incoherent babbling to determine what works best for her. His kisses to her neck turn sharp, and she cries out and comes a final time as she explodes around him, drawing him in as closely as possible, feeling his satisfaction tickle her mind. He eases her through the last orgasm, before shoving roughly into her a few more times and coming himself, swearing in Norse as he does.

…

Thais sits on Eric’s lap, them both now naked, and gently runs her fingers over his cool skin. He lays gentle kisses on her forehead and crown ever now and then, letting his fingers glide over her spine. She smiles up at him, and he offers one of his own in return. And everything seems ok, at least for now.

“Sleep with me today?” he asks. She beams at him.

“I’d like that.” So, he lifts her and makes his way down stairs, laying her gently on his bed, before climbing in beside her and curling around her.

#trueblood #true blood fandom #eric northman #sookie stackhouse #vampires #Telepaths #southern vampire mysteries

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ohnohetaliasues · 5 years ago

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Stones to Abbigale {Ch.2}

(Kat)

I actively want to die.

This book is making me suffer.

It’s terrible and I hate it.

Okay, here’s chapter two.

Also, I’m going to start new paragraphs whenever someone speaks because I find reading it without that formatting insufferable.

The following morning Mr. Hanson approached me in the hall before class started.

Wait, who is this again? The history teacher?

I actually forgot he existed.

"We're supposed to talk," he said in his usual stern voice.

I responded, "I know, but what about?"

He began gesturing with his hands as he often did, I guess it was a habit he developed to trick people into believing he was saying something interesting.

Or he just talks with his hands.

Like me.

"You know you're a smart kid, but you keep showing up late to my classes and it's becoming a problem" he said.

Surprised he showed genuine interest; I replied with a smirk, "I'll do better in the future."

He continued "Alright, well, I also wanted to ask you about a TA opportunity."

I replied, "You don't have a teacher's assistant?"

I’ve never heard of a high school student becoming a TA, but maybe it’s just not a thing at my high school.

I watched a bead of sweat fall down his balding forehead as he responded.

"The last TA moved, and yeah, you're not always on time, but you get your work done honestly and efficiently."

I asked, "Ok Mr. Hanson, next semester?"

He authoritatively replied "No, you can just take an elective class credit and I'll let your current teacher know you'll be working with me from here on."

I crave death.

I immediately thought of the possibility of losing art class and rejected the idea.

"My only elective is art class right now and I don't want to give that up" I said.

He took a step back looking offended and lost his temper, in a disgruntled tone he said "Art? Art class is a joke James! Tell me one person you know who is making a living painting pictures!"

Um.

There are many famous painters alive today who are rich.

Jeff Koons, Gerhard Richter. The list goes on.

All the students nearby in the hall stopped and looked towards the shouting. I looked at Mr. Hanson unaffected, reminding him I would not give it up. I wasn't about to sacrifice the one class I had with Abbi for alone time with a sweaty, anger-prone history teacher.

What-

Why do adults in this book act like petty children?

Mr. Hanson looked at everyone stopped in the hall and screamed "Oh ha ha, everyone look at Mr. Hanson he's such a goof, move along kids!"

Everyone just looked at him as he turned back to me, maintaining his clearly frustrated posture. He then waddled into his classroom to begin class.

My eyes are glazing over.

I reluctantly entered with the remaining students to sit at my desk, which was conveniently placed within broomstick range from Mr. Hanson's desk.

‘Broomstick range’ is now a system of measurement, apparently.

After enduring another useless history lesson revolving around my home state of Washington it was finally time for art class.

What a surprise, that’s also Onion’s home state.

I walked as fast as I could without looking too awkward, in my normal fashion, only to find Abbi wasn't even in the room. I sat down in my new seat and waited, only to see everyone but her fill the room.

Die mad about it.

Mrs. Stanley closed the door to our class trailer and instructed us to begin dismembering the possessions we brought from home. I began cutting the bear with a scalpel Mrs. Stanley provided me

No.

Just no.

Scalpel?

Is your art teacher insane?

but my muscles seemed to work on their own as I found myself consumed with Abbi again, her overwhelming presence on the edge of every thought fragment in my mind. Just a short while into class I found myself looking down at my bear, now cut into 6 pieces. I felt like I was in a science lab dissecting an actual animal, the most noticeable difference being that the cotton stuffing didn't look like or stink of old flesh and death like real animals did.

I don’t know whether to cry, scream, or laugh about this.

Later that day during lunch, due to my mom not being able to afford buying me a cell phone, I used a payphone to call Abbi but got no answer. I didn't feel like eating so the rest of lunch I just sat on a bench outside staring at people interacting with each other. I made a major effort to distract myself knowing that focusing on what could be was mostly a waste considering I was so powerless to influence any change at that point. Even just watching the bushes move around in the wind made more sense to me than letting worry consume me.

More of this pretentious bullshit.

Later that night after I had just finished my shower I placed the one cordless phone we had in my house next to my bed on my windowsill. I would have dialed her but I didn't want to call more than once a day for fear of wearing out my welcome.

Good idea.

That night, a few different calls came in but they were always for my sister Lisa. Her receiving a barrage of phone calls from random guys was nothing new to anyone in the house.

The normal conversation you could expect to hear Lisa take part in, with excessive projection in her voice, would most always revolve around how stupid she thought other girls at school were and how she hates basically everything about Lakewood High.

I mean, who doesn’t hate high school? It kind of sucks.

I didn't want to know what she was talking about, ever,

Even if you just said what she was talking about.

but my TV volume couldn't compete with her voice. It was like she thought she was so important, everyone around her just had to hear everything she had to say no matter how trivial the topic. After a couple hours she finally stopped running her mouth so I turned off my TV and with it my room faded to darkness. I welcomed the silence like a warm blanket on a cold night.

I hate that simile.

I woke up the next morning to see the phone sitting there just like my stupid alarm clock, useless and unbearably annoying to look at. I expected it to sound off at some point but like the clock it failed to deliver.

If the alarm clock is broken, get a new one or throw that one away, or maybe fix it. There are many ways to fix your problem.

It was raining outside; clouds filled the sky in normal Lakewood fashion. I wasn't going to skate to school this time out of fear it would rust my skates and hinder my ability to skate fast if even at all.

If you briefly skate in the rain, it won’t do anything to your skates. That’s just how that works.

Instead I decided to ride the bus, pretending for only moments I really had a choice.

As I climbed up the bus steps, Davis rang out "Hallelujah, James is here to save everyone from the evil clouds!"

I genuinely smiled for the first time that morning thanks to him. As usual I sat next to the window seat that Davis courteously always offered me.

This book just has a way of making me want to die.

The beginning of history class was the same old story. As usual I barely paid attention. I just thought about Abbi and hoped she was ok.

Okay, the way this is written makes it seem like James only has history class and then art and that’s it and then school is over. That seems to be it.

And that bothers me.

Interrupting my thoughts of Abbi came a very rude outburst by Jason. It was odd to hear his voice, as I wasn't supposed to see him till art class. He stood outside our closed class door waving his hands in hopes of disrupting us.

Is he just standing there screaming outside the classroom door? That’s fucking stupid. There is no logical or comedic reason for him to do that.

It was clearly for no real reason more meaningful than a toddler would have in invok- ing chaos around their immediate environment. Some people just want to get an emotional reaction to their behavior so they can feel a sense of power or control.

So he cuts class to scream outside a classroom door?

Have fun in detention, dipshit.

Jason began banging on the door so Mr. Hanson walked over and opened the door and asked "Why aren't you in your class?"

Jason responded saying, "Got kicked out, what's up?"

Okay, so because of that bullshit, I believe Mr. Hanson should have the option to fucking destroy you.

"Go stand outside your class till it's over" Mr. Hanson commanded, Jason rebelliously replied, "Don't tell me what to do fatty."

Okay, so I’m mad about how Onion connected these two pieces of dialogue when he shouldn’t have, but I’m also mad at this fucking 3rd grade insult.

To a teacher.

I could see Mr. Hanson was about to lose it, so I interrupted. "No one wants you here Jason."

Rude but yes, James is right. Fuck right off.

Mr. Hanson looked back at me with a look of surprise. He seemed shock I would say anything on his behalf. Jason became extremely silent, now refusing to look anywhere but at me.

That’s... Alarming imagery.

His glare was intense but it seemed so forced, like he wasn't really offended but didn't want to look weak in front of everyone else.

I cannot imagine that in a way that invokes tension.

Mr. Hanson then closed the door inches away from Jason's nose but that didn't stop him from staring intensely through the vertical window slot in the door.

This literally sounds like a scene from The Office. It sounds like somethig Dwight Schrute would do.

He remained so still and consistent in his stare, it was almost as if he had become a red-faced almost cartoonish portrait hanging on the door.

Literally sounds like Dwight. I’m laughing my ass off.

As class came closer to an end Jason was no longer staring at me and wasn't even visible from my perspective. Knowing Jason had something left to prove, many of the students naturally assumed he was somewhere within the immediate vicinity. I could tell most everyone was concerned as they kept looking back at me, wondering what I was going to do about the clearly unstable and enraged jock that no doubt was still lurking just outside our door.

I can’t-

Is he a caricature? Of a fucking stereotypical jock?

Every kid in there knew I couldn't just hide out in the class. I was sure this was some kind of victory for Mr. Hanson. He knew I wouldn't have this immediate problem had I accepted his offer to TA for him.

It’s petty and stupid not to stop a potential fight between students because you’re mad at one of the students. Why is this asshole acting like a child?

Oh.

Right.

Because Onion regularly acts like a child.

My decisions led me to this; I built a doorway to certain destruction and I knew if I was going to be brave, I had to walk through it.

I don’t care.

Get the shit beat out of you.

You’re annoying.

I didn't have time to deal with hesitating once class was over, seeing Abbi was my real priority. I walked out with the class just like I normally did only this time Jason was following close behind, as I'm sure most everyone assumed he would. I was about to leave the main building to head over to the art trailer only to feel a hand grab my shoulder. The hand slipped as I pulled away, nails scraping along my skin to clamp on my shirt. I was then yanked swiftly back from the main hall door. It began.

I’ve written fight scenes before. This has no buildup like a fight scene should have.

I yanked my shirt aggressively out of his hand and clutched my now scratched up shoulder. I was now facing Jason who immediately lunged at me and threw me into the already half-broken hall door just behind me.

What door? Where is this fight taking place? in front of the school? Where is the main hall?

I’m very confused.

I bounced back from the impact and pushed Jason in the center of his chest to distance him from me so I could continue walking away. Without hesitation he used my response to justify further violence and began throwing punches. I was knocked to the ground within seconds and he began trying to pull off my backpack resulting in me being briefly dragged across the floor like a helpless child.

This... This is very very hard to picture as an actual series of events.

This is not how fight scenes work or how they should be written.

I was now a couple yards away from the door I was trying to leave through.

Oh, so this is inside. I pictured it outside because I wasn’t told that wasn’t where it was.

I twisted away to return to a standing position while simultaneously snatching my backpack back so hard that it flew out my hands and smacked the door behind me, leaving a huge crack in the glass. I could hear glass falling off the door behind me.

????

I cannot picture this happening it’s so strangely written.

People began to gather around us, and like a chemical reaction they began screaming just as they did before. Much of what was happening was a blur, but I remember they would scream every time Jason hit me throughout the irrefutably one-way fight. It quickly got to the point where I didn't even feel the punches, I could only hear them laughing and yelling as Jason swung again and again.

Has Onion only ever seen shitty high school movies? Because nobody acts like this.

I kept falling over and over but every time I would return to stand only to fail at defending myself from further blows. I didn't block a single hit; I didn't even throw one punch at him.

As my nose began to bleed one of the boys my sister was friends with, Matthew, grabbed me and pulled me out of the fight. He was twice my size but was also on Jason's football team so naturally he did nothing to help me win.

Bro he saved you from being punched repeatedly.

The only thing he offered me was an end to the beating I was suffering.

And that’s fine. Because Matthew is stopping the fight instead of continuing it. Which is the good thing to do.

Shortly after the fight ended I found myself sitting on a mattress in the nurses' office, not allowed to leave, not allowed to do anything but think about what happened.

I’d maybe take him to the hospital.

Despite everything in my head feeling scrambled and disorganized, there was Abbi, waiting in the same place, just as she sat in the back of class. She radiated warmly in the back of my mind.

Awesome.

As lunch approached Principal Leeman came into the room I was staying in at the nurses' office and asked me how I was feeling.

Why on earth did the principal come and check on him?

That’s bizarre.

I responded "Well, my tooth is chipped, my chin hurts, my face is bruised and I just got humiliated in front of my peers."

And you know your tooth is chipped without actually checking.

Fun.

Mr. Leeman said, "I've gotten multiple statements saying you pushed him. What's your response?"

James was literally attacked. It was not his fault. I will admit that, even if I hate him.

I replied "I pushed him back after he pushed me first. All I did was push him back once and then he did this to my face." I made a circular motion around my face showing how one-sided the fight way.

That bit of dialogue and the following description didn’t make any fucking sense.

Principal Leeman said in a commanding voice "Well he's suspended for 10 days," he paused and I felt relief assuming the Principal was on my side, but then he continued, "You will be suspended for 2 days."

The bitch didn’t fight back, but sure okay.

I was surprised they would suspend someone for just pushing back when they are pushed. What was I supposed to do? Just ignore being assaulted?

Valid point.

If school is meant to teach us how to survive in the real world, and in the real world you are legally allowed to defend yourself, how could they justify this punishment?

Never mind, shut the fuck up.

Principal Leeman informed me I could finish up the day and not return for the following two days.

I would assume James needs to go home or to the dentist due to his chipped tooth.

"You should be at least grateful for that, Jason was escorted off school grounds entirely," he said.

Principal Leeman stared at me sitting there, helpless and about to break down.

"Ok then, see you again in a few days" he said and quickly walked out.

All I could focus on feeling in that moment was the tacky ice pack on my face and a sinking feeling of worthlessness. It's not something I like to admit but the truth is I cried seconds after Principal Leeman left the room.

I mean, I would too.

The type of cry you suppress but your eyes still get become red, your body trembles & painfully hot tears still fall. It was the type of sadness that made a person ache to their core but you do your best to hold on, to not lose yourself to your emotions like you would so carelessly do as a child.

I have read descriptions of trying not to cry before, and this feels like a strange hollow replica of the things I read. I’ve written someone trying not to cry before.

While this does evoke some emotion, it’s very on the surface and not deep enough to make me feel anything heavy.

And it isn’t childish to cry, it’s human, so shut the fuck up, Onion.

I sat in the room alone till I could collect myself. Shortly after I gathered my stuff and proceeded to finishing my classes for the day.

There needs to be a comma after ‘shortly after’ or this reads like an incomplete sentence.

I also asked a couple of my teachers about any work I would miss so I could keep up while I was suspended but didn't have the motivation to stop by every single class before leaving the school entirely.

Have fun with the surprise homework you’ll have.

As I was about to get on the bus home I looked over to see Abbi again in the parking lot with her boyfriend Seth. They were standing by his car. This time they were not showing affection, in fact she seemed like she wasn't even willing to look at him despite him clearly and aggressively speaking to her.

Oh wonderful.

Abuse.

Don’t get me wrong, abuse is terrible and I hope from the bottom of my heart that if any of you are victims of abuse that you get the help you need, but this.

This seems cliché.

Without a second's thought I shifted away from the bus and began walking over to Abbi to see if she was ok. The more I could hear Seth's tone as I approached the more worried I became.

Okay, that’s a rational thing to do.

Seth reacted to me like a guard dog in a ghetto-fenced yard once he realized I was headed towards him.

That’s a little extreme.

He puffed out his shoulders and glared at me in attempts to look intimidating.

How does someone puff out their shoulders? Explain that to me.

Abbi remained upset, it seemed like she was emotionally unable to look any- where but the ground.

Do you mean physically? You can’t use your emotions to move your body. That’s just not a thing that exists. Sorry, Onion.

Now within a fair speaking range, I tried to sound optimistic for the sake of Abbi's emotional state, "Hey Abbi, were you at art class today?"

In.* In art class, I think you mean.

I asked.

Her boyfriend stepped in front of her to block my view and said, "Are you the kid that called her the other night?"

I responded, "Yeah, we're..."

"Just ignore him James" Abbi said mumbled loudly behind Seth.

Seth looked back as if an arrow had just been plunged into his chest.

So... He looked like he’d been shot?

Excuse me, the fuck?

Abbi then walked around him looking only at me and said, "Will you walk me..." but paused when she saw my face.

Abbi's facial expression changed quickly to shock as she asked in an alarmed tone "...what happened?"

Her boyfriend busted out laughing, "Oh, you didn't see this idiot get wrecked by Jason? He didn't even fight back. I would've had that jock prick choking in his own blood in seconds but you just took a beating like a..."

It’s like this guy looked at the viewer and said ‘I’m an asshole and you’re not supposed to like me.’

Abbi interrupted screaming, "Shut up Seth! You sadistic freak!"

Seth's grin turned into a scowl. He rapidly stepped towards her so I blocked his path by stepping in front of him. Seth looked more mortified than I had ever seen a person get. In such a short time knowing him I could see he had a number of mental and emotional issues, more so than I understood.

You just know this?

Again, why is James written like this? In a way that seems like he has psychic powers?

Seth didn't even try to get past me to Abbi; he let his voice reach her with his screams "You have no respect! After what I've done for you?"

Abbi replied, "I'm sick of this Seth, I want nothing to do with you."

Her voice cracked as Seth screamed once more. "If you're ending this again! I..."

He didn't know what to say, but in his eyes I could see a deep intense hatred. When I looked in most people's eyes I saw all kinds of things but in him there was only anger and pain. His hands were shaking furiously, his breathing noticeably irregular, he was losing it.

This is like a lizard person trying to describe how an angry person looks. It doesn’t make sense and it is mechanical.

Abbi still refused to look at Seth as he threw his tantrum. He yelled "Fine! Be with a guy who can't even protect himself! Idiot!"

Fine, be with someone who clearly isn’t abusive who you’ve talked to twice.

Seth got into his car as Abbi tightly grabbed my arm; her eyes remained closed like she was scared, hiding in a shell. She jumped at the sound of Seth slamming his car door.

Yikes.

Recklessly, Seth floored the gas pedal and his car lurched forward, barely missing Abbi and me as he pulled out of the parking lot.

I can’t even.

Abbi stood silently by with her eyes still closed. I didn't know how to act in a situation like this.

Trying not to make things worse I just said, "I will walk you home, to answer your question."

Abbi opened her eyes but remained silent. She nodded.

I am running out of gifs to express how annoyed I am.

We had been walking for a while, every step making us feel like we were slightly further from our problems.

She finally spoke, "So I was in Art Class and I saw your cut up bear."

I responded, "Yeah? Creepy right? Maybe it was a FUBAR idea." She laughed a little.

I forgot that he cut up the bear yesterday and not the same day this is taking place because Onion sucks ass at transitions and I actually forgot that there was a transition because it was forgettable.

"Yeah, I guess we're both kind of weird, I was all game for it." I softly laughed as I began to feel raindrops hitting my arms and neck.

"I hear running is just as bad as walking in the rain" I said.

"You get just as wet?" She replied.

"Yeah, something like that. It's like the harder you try to fix some problems, the worse they get."

I made a face similar to this gif in response to this nonsense.

I impulsively asked to confirm what I had earlier seen

"So your... Seth... is..."

She interrupted "Hopefully soon completely out of my life."

My curiosity overtook me, I asked, "What happened?"

She frowned and said, "Other than what happened in the parking lot?"

I responded "Well, I mean, I donno, don't say anything you don't want to."

Dunno.*

She stared at her feet as we continued to walk. I noticed her makeup was running. Shortly after she noticed too and began to rush us getting home.

Walking faster she said, "I'm sorry, I really don't want you to see me like this."

She continued to rush slightly ahead of me, I stopped walking and said "Hey!"

She slowed down and stopped still facing away from me.

We stood in the rain for only a few seconds before she asked, "Do you think makeup really helps anyone?"

I replied still looking at her back, "I think it helps us forget what we don't want to remember, it let's us pretend we're a little more perfect than we really are."

She laughed sadly and said, "That's one way to put it."

I smiled and replied "Makeup is just makeup, and skin is just skin. It is what it is."

I’d rather knock myself unconscious than read this waxing poetic pretentious bullshit.

You aren’t Walt Whitman, Onion boy. Shut up.

Abbi looked up at the rain for a moment and then down at the ground again. She then turned around with her rain-soaked face revealing what she was hiding under her makeup. Standing before her in the rain, looking at the results of what she had suffered, it broke my heart. Abbi wasn't worried about her makeup running for the reason I thought, she was just afraid of what I would think when I saw the bruises on her face, some just like mine.

You being beat up by someone isn’t as bad as the prolonged abuse Abbi has apparently been suffering.

So shut your fucking mouth you whiny bitch.

"Do you see them?" she asked with a quiver in her voice.

Without restraint I responded with the first thing that came to my mind, "I see beautiful girl, who I very much enjoy walking with in the rain."

Despite her face being covered in falling drops of water, I could clearly see tears fall from her eyes.

Okay. You’ve spoken to her twice now.

While this is slightly sweet, both of these characters have given me no reason to like them or grow attached to them, so I really don’t care about this interaction.

Her head fell forward as she began to shake, her tears falling almost in sync with the rain.

Okay.

Um.

Just... Okay.

I walked up to her and put my arm around her side and walked with her the rest of the way home.

As we got to her doorstep I said "I'm just seven letters away, call if you need anything ok?"

She smiled and nodded.

"See you tomorrow?" she asked.

I replied, "I got suspended for two days".

She looked offended "Woooow! Punishing the guy who got beat up, classy!"

She looks offended? Why? James didn’t offend her.

Also, it bothers me so fucking much that Onion puts the dialogue bits after the ‘she said’ part of the sentence. That is not how you write. At all.

Fuck you.

I responded, "Yeah... well, I pushed him back."

She replied "Clearly not hard enough."

I laughed sadly looking down as she unexpectedly wrapped her arms around me.

Despite it being so cold out and her being soaked, it was the warmest hug I had ever received. I hugged her back, said goodbye and walked home with a huge smile on my face, bruises and all.

Hallelujah. Fuck both of you.

Okay, so there are many things wrong with this.

The formatting is absolutely fucked and the characters are actually so deeply bland and flavorless that I cannot bring myself to like them at all.

Also, it romanticizes abuse.

Which is disgusting.

Okay, I’m gonna get on chapter three because I apparently love suffering.

Ugh.

~Kat

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treatian · 5 years ago

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The Chronicles of the Dark One: The Dark Curse

Chapter 71: Teachable Moments

In the beginning, he'd always grown frustrated when Regina missed a lesson, but he'd learned since then. Now, when he found that Regina missed a lesson he wasn't angry, though he might pretend to be when he saw her again, instead he was excited. Regina rarely missed a lesson for anything related to her role as Queen, or for her "family" which meant that when she failed to show up, she was struggling. He used to feel as though his time was wasted, now he felt as though it was the pay off. Though she still hadn't said the magic words that he longed to hear, the words that would tell him that she was ready to move on and cast a curse, he could sense the feeling growing in her. He was getting into the Queen's head, getting into those dark places everyone kept hidden from the world and throwing them into the light where Regina grappled with them. And it was beautiful.

Besides, these days a missed lesson wasn't quite the tragedy it had been when she was a younger girl, just learning the craft. Then he'd needed to keep her in the magic, keep her close to it, practicing it all the time. Now, there was no question that she used magic in her daily life. Her husband knew it, her step-daughter knew it, half the Kingdom knew it. It allowed the rumors of what she could do to spread like wildfire. She was eager to learn, her fingers itching to use what she knew and allow the power growing inside of her to expand. Not getting her lessons…it was a bit like watching Jefferson go too long without using that hat of his or seeing his bedmate. Want became need. Need became desire. Desire became desperation. Desperation became addiction. And when it came to the temptation of magic, that was a subject he knew well.

So, he'd come up with a system to make it worse and teach her a lesson as well. When Regina missed a lesson to explore and contemplate the choices she was making, he returned the favor. She'd wasted his time, so he wasted hers, promising more lessons then "forgetting" to show up for them. When she tracked him down in his home and questioned him, a simple "busy" was all it took to show her how it felt as well as to raise her heart rate and make her just a tad bit more desperate for what she didn't have. She soon had put two and two together, and so now their lessons lived in a sort of…suspension. He sent word to her when they were to practice, made the lessons fewer and farther apart, and in return, he watched as the poor Queen began to fall apart herself.

The last couple of years had been the hardest. Ever since the King had gotten Snow White a horse for her birthday and the pair had become quite renowned across the land, jealousy continued to rage within his pupil. Regina seethed. He gloated. Privately, of course, but he was proud of his creation. And yet…he knew that he couldn't hold her back forever. She was making strides, coming ever closer to where she needed to be with her hate toward the Princess, but he was no closer to getting his hands on the curse today as he was seven years ago when all this had begun! This was a delicate operation. Every day Snow White grew older, into the woman he knew that James would one day fall for and marry, and who knew how soon after that they'd conceive and she'd give birth to the child that he needed to break the curse. He had to be cautious. If she grew too unstable and killed Snow White too early then it would throw everything into disarray. He needed her to have patience. To let her anger simmer for a while, and not boil over. An extremely difficult thing to do when the Princess kept winning riding tournaments and her father continued to dote upon her.

He was here today because of a vision that he'd seen in his head, one that he needed to understand. But when he arrived, Regina was another vision entirely. He tracked her to the stables, and she was in quite the state; one highly immature and unbecoming of her position. Ripping ribbons her step-daughter won off the wall one by one as she growled under her breath…it was a good thing Cora was so far away; otherwise this would have been tragic for her to witness. For him, it was just embarrassing.

"Oh!" he shuddered, making her turn to find him. "I love a touch of irony! The day you met Snow White, she nearly died on a horse. And yet today, she's the best rider in all the land."

"It's her precious horse that's won those medals, not her!" Regina spat back. He nearly rolled her eyes. Sure it was. And if she truly believed that, then she wouldn't be in here tearing them down one right after another.

"Still, good fortune does tend to, uh, fall in her lap, does it not?"

"And you promised to teach me magic so I can end her charmed life!" she roared.

"Well, I'm teaching you, dearie," he insisted, taking his seat again. And he stood by that truth. He was teaching her how to destroy her step-daughter just not quite in the way she wanted. Not that it mattered, if the book he'd seen her holding, the one she was hiding behind her back, meant anything. The vision he'd had before arriving here flashed before his eyes, and he fought back a smile. Perhaps there was a connection after all. "Though you sound a bit impatient. Sneaking out here to read...what is it?"

Using his magic, he grabbed the book in his own hands and looked it over, seeing a familiar emblem he hadn't seen in years. And for good reason. He'd helped give the Dragon the cure to keep her human and then left all thoughts of Maleficent behind. But this afternoon, he'd had a vision, or a series of visions that brought her back to his attention.

Maleficent sulking around the castle he'd told her to go to. Regina talking with her. Princess Aurora, Stefan's daughter, drifting into a deep sleep with Maleficent beside her. A dragon alive once more, and Regina, finally mastering what she hadn't before-the creation of a fireball.

It was for that last vision he'd seen that he wanted to understand the vision, to do what he had to in order to make it come true. But he hadn't understood how Regina connected to the rest of it…not until he saw this book in her hands. But still, why would Regina have it?

"Maleficent's spell book?!"

The girl stood before him, looking more guilty than ever and shrugged. "I…found it in my mother's things," she explained, wobbling on her tip-toes as if she were a child guilty of going through her mother's things when she was, in fact, an adult queen going through items that had been abandoned. Suddenly Regina smiled and leaned closer a look of excitement on her face. "She can turn into-"

"A fire-breathing dragon," he provided for her. "Yes, yes, yes. A bit showy if you ask me." Not that she was doing it much anymore.

"I'm just tired of watching Snow grow up!" she screamed as he set the book aside. "I am tired of her getting everything, and I...I want to finally have my revenge!"

He had to laugh at that…they'd had this conversation before, the night that she'd attempted to destroy Snow White's reputation. And if that was what she considered revenge, then her ideas were as stale as this conversation.

"You don't even know what revenge looks like, dearie."

"You're right. All I know are what your lessons look like…and they're taking me nowhere."

Childish insults. Was that how this was going to be? What she was reduced to? Maybe she needed to be taught a different lesson. Maybe she needed a different teacher. Maybe she needed to see how far her own heroes could fall. "Before you start throwing stones, you might want to look in the mirror! And I'm not speaking metaphorically," he commented, pointing to the small mirror that hung on the wall of the stable.

Regina let out a great heaving sigh that told him what he'd come up with was worth a try. So as she turned to look, he waved his hand out over the mirror, and they both watched as it became the image of a forest he was familiar with but doubted Regina had ever seen since her husband wasn't one to take her on trips to distant lands.

"What is this place?" she questioned.

He hadn't seen it in a good long while himself, and it didn't look any better than the last time he had. "It's a wasteland," he answered. "But years ago, it was a lush forest till Maleficent burned it down. Her dragon flame burned so hot that there's one tree still on fire half a lifetime later."

Regina smiled and turned to face him. "Do you know how she did it?"

"With a powerful magic that she cultivated with that most precious commodity...time. If you ignore the gift of time and rush into things, you...will never be ready," he insisted, placing a finger under her chin and inspecting her gaze. She wasn't ready now. She could try to cast the curse, but it would fail, there wasn't nearly enough hate in her heart yet. Or rejection or failure, or power. And besides all that…the Swan hadn't been born yet, nor had Prince Charming and Snow White fallen madly in love in order to conceive her. This was not the time. If nothing else, perhaps Maleficent was a far better teacher for that lesson than he was. His vision suggested that she should go to her, and his vision changed nothing of the future that he saw. It wasn't as though they were on the clock…what harm could a bit of space do?

"Or maybe this is all just excuses, and you're just not a skilled enough teacher to show me!"

"You think she's gonna help you?"

"I think I'm tired of waiting!"

"And that is exactly your problem!" he roared back at her. They'd see how this turned out soon enough. "Good luck with Maleficent." With a snap of his fingers, Regina vanished from his sight, out to the wasteland, to a place where a slumbering dragon still dwelt in a haunted castle-The Forbidden Forest.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Regina #Evil Queen #Maleficent #Queens of Darkness #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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madeofstardust17 · 5 years ago

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Whumptober prompts 16, 17 & 18. Pinned down, "stay with me" & muffled screaming.

Rating: T I guess

Tw: none

Pidge & Shiro, Pidge & Keith, Pidge & team

I did the best I could

...

The earthquake trapped them inside the abandoned galran warehouse. Hunk, Keith and Lance were thrown to the ground, bits and pieces of ceiling falling and hitting their raised shields.

Shiro and Pidge weren’t so lucky.

There were at the other, more unstable part of the warehouse when the earthquake hit basically the entire ceiling fell right above them. By some miracle, Shiro, mostly unhurt, managed to dig himself out rather quickly. But his satisfaction was quickly dampened when he saw the giant pillar that separated him from Pidge’s last known location.

He barely remembered a shout of pain and a grunt when the ceiling had caved in, but he hadn’t registered until now.

“Pidge?” Silence. His heart sank.

He got up and ran to the place he had last seen the girl, climbing the huge pillar. From the top of the structure, he could see the entire room. He took his helmet off, since it was covered in dust. No sign of her.

“Pidge?!” He couldn’t keep the worry off his voice

“C’mon Katie, talk to me”

“Ughhhmmm” the sound had come from his right.

He jumped to the floor and started digging where he thought the sound had come from.

A hand. He kept digging.

He found her head and chest. Her visor was broken, and there was a bleeding cut above her eyebrow. A large block of metal was pinning her from the waist down.

Despite everything, she grinned weakly at him

“Hey” relief washed away most of the tension in his shoulders as he grinned back

“Hey yourself” she wrinkled her nose

“‘Feel weird” she closed her eyes “m’ head hurts”

“Let’s get that helmet off”

He managed to lift her head and get it off. He was relieved to see that there wasn’t any blood, but she was ghostly pale and her left pupil was bigger than her right. So definitely concussed then.

“Can you feel your legs?”

After a second, she nodded and winced “they hurt”

After a few minutes where Shiro was debiting how to proceed she closed her eyes

“Good night”

“You can’t fall asleep”

She opened her eyes and glared “but I’m tired. And you’re always telling me to go to sleep”

Leave it to Pidge to find a semi-logical argument even when concussed.

“I know but you have a head wound”

“Don’t care. Night”

“Pidge” when she didn’t respond, his voice hardened “open your eyes” he winced internally. That came out a bit louder than he meant. It worked though, even if she did look scared. Shiro took a deep breath.

“I’m going to lift the debris off your legs, okay? As soon as you can, I need you to crawl away”

She shook her head “it hurts”

He brushed her bangs from her eyes

“I know. But we’re going to get you home, and then straight into a cryopod”

“You can’t do anything straight”

Ignoring the comment, he grabbed his helmet and opened the comms

“Guys? Is everyone okay?”

“Shiro!” Keith sounded so relieved Shiro guessed they had been calling him for a while now

“We’re all fine” Hunk sounded tired, but otherwise okay.

“The bad news is we lost connection to the castle when the ceiling fell. The good news is that we’ve found an exit”

“Good, because we’re gonna need an extraction” the comms exploded with voices

“Are you okay?”

“Where’s Pidge?”

“We’re on our way, Shiro”

“It’s Pidge” he looked at the girl in question, who was now saying something under her breath, too slurred to make sense “she has a head injury and I think one of her legs is broken, if not both”

“Stay there Shiro” Keith sounded like he was running “We’ll get the lions and bring them to your location”

“Copy that”

He left the helmet on the floor and kneeled next to Pidge

“Ready?”

She blinked owlishly at him

“For what?”

“Your legs are pinned down. Do you remember the plan?”

She thought for a second before her face lit up with realization

“That’s right! Okay I’m ready”

He put his hands underneath the debris and prepared himself to pull.

“Alright kiddo, on three. One… two… three!”

Heart hammering on his chest, he began to lift the metal. He grunted, it was heavier than he had anticipated. He could actually hear the mechanisms in his arm working double time to support the weight.

The metal groaned and started to shift, and Pidge groaned with it.

“C’mon Pidge” he grunted, urging the girl to move

Pidge started whimpering, trying to crawl backwards.

The moment she was out, Shiro let the debris go and it fell with a clang. He stood where he was for a moment, panting.

“Sh’ro”

That got him moving. He ran to her side, falling to his knees as he registered the yet to fall tears and the heavy panting while her gloved hand clutched at her ribs.

“Hurts” she had her eyes shut and his own trailed to her left ankle, which was twisted in an awkward angle. He tore his eyes away from it

“Ribs?”

“Bruised, I think. I dunno. I think I’m gonna throw up”

Just then the parts of the ceiling that my some miracle hadn’t fallen yet shook, along with the floor. Shiro mentally scolded himself for not expecting an aftershock. He shielded the small girl’s body with his own, but only pebbles and small rocks fell on him.

“I’m gonna get you out of here, alright? I’m going to pick you up now”

Pidge shook her head violently, but Shiro scooped her up in his arms.

She bit on her hand to try to muffle the scream that left her throat, but it still made shiro wince.

“I’m so sorry, Katie. Just stay with me for a little longer, Alright?”

She didn’t respond. She just continued crying, shaking as she waited for the pain in her ribs and ankle to stop.

He picked up his helmet, and after getting most of the dust off his visor, put it on.

“Guys?”

“We’re here” Keith immediately responded.

“I have Pidge. Probably broken ribs and a broken ankle. Where’s the exit?”

As if on cue, there was an explosion at their right. Pidge whimpered at the sound, and Shiro hated that the only thing he could do was place a comforting hand on her head.

“Did you hear that?” Lance asked

“Please tell me that was you guys” Shiro pleaded

“Yep. I think one more of those blasts and the wall will break. You guys get ready to get out as soon as it’s down.”

“Roger that”

They were out in less than two minutes.

The green lion roared, and all of the paladins felt a wave of relief pour over them. Pidge smiled against Shiro’s shoulder.

The three boys ran to their side, looking worried as they studied their teammates conditions.

“You should have told us you were bleeding too” Keith crossed his arms.

Shiro’s eyes widened, he touched the side of his head and felt something sticky and warm on his glove.

“I honestly didn’t realize” he said truthfully. Keith glared at him, but didn’t respond.

“Let’s just get Pidge home” Hunk said. Shiro nodded

They agreed that Shiro and Pidge would ride on the red lion, since she was the fastest, while black and green would follow them.

Shiro lay Pidge down on the emergency bed on Red’s back room.

She squirmed, trying to get a bit more comfortable, but quickly stopped when her ribs protested.

Shiro grabbed one of the emergency water bottles and a rag. He wet the rag and whipped the side of Pidge’s faces that was covered in blood. She smiled weakly

“You know the pods clean the blood” it wasn’t a question.

“I know. But you were freaking me out”

She huffed out a laugh, wincing immediately after.

“Lance’s right” she muttered, her words coming out slurred again, “you’re such a dad”

Shiro rolled his eyes fondly

“I need to take the chest plate off”

She gave him the stink eye, which made him want to laugh, but he tried to keep a straight face.

Three of her ribs were fractured, and four were bruised was what he could tell by touching them.

He grabbed his helmet and called Keith.

“Is there something wrong?” Keith asked quickly.

“Can Red fly to the castle without you? I need you here”

A strange presence on his mind and a phantom pain on his cheek, as if something had slapped him (a tail by the feel of it), told him what he needed to know.

“She’s offended that you think she can’t”

“I know” he rubbing rubbing his cheek. He could’ve sworn he heard a roar-like laugh.

“I’m coming”

Keith appeared three seconds later, walking over to Pidge.

He muttered something shiro didn’t catch, and Pidge mumbled something back that made Keith smirk and ruffle her hair.

“I’m going to need you to hold her down as I reset her ankle.

The smile slid off Keith’s face. Instead, a steely determination replaced it, and he nodded.

Before the started, Keith grabbed a clean rag and told Pidge to bite it. Looking confused, Pidge obeyed.

Shiro took a deep breath and started trying to take off her boot.

It was a slow process, in which Pidge kept whimpering and twitching involuntarily, the sounds that left her throat muffled by the rag.

Keith stood beside her, one hand grabbing her hand and squeezing, the other holding her good leg to prevent her from kicking involuntarily.

Once the boot was out, Keith dropped her hand and put an arm over her shoulders and chest.

Shiro’s hands were tingling as he grabbed the foot gingerly.

He looked at Keith, and they younger boy nodded. Pidge looked like she was about to doze off.

Shiro took a deep breath.

The ankle snapped.

Pidge screamed into the rag.

The green lion roared in their heads.

Getting her to the to the cryopod was a piece of cake after that.

The four paladins stood still for a moment, watching Pidge’s frozen expression.

And then the tension broke when Keith grabbed Shiro by the arm and lead him to one of the medical beds.

“Keith…”

But the boy was hearing none of it.

He pushed Shiro until he sat down and glared at him when he opened his mouth.

He then started cleaning the bleeding cut on the side of his head.

It wasn’t bleeding that badly, he tried to tell them, but Lance and Hunk seemed to agree with Keith, because Hunk had a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from moving.

When Keith finished, no one moved.

Shiro could feel himself crashing, could feel his hands trembling as he looked at them.

They were tinted with red.

Keith sighed, sat next to Shiro, and pressed the side of his head against his un injured one.

Hunk, who sat on his right, squeezed his shoulder, and Lance, who had noticed how he was looking at his trembling hands, held them in his own.

Slowly, the adrenaline faded, and tiredness seeped in.

He took a deep breath, and let himself enjoy this moment of peace.

His team was safe.

That’s all he needed for now.

...

I forgot to post this yesterday sorry guys. I was working on a fma fanart.

Thank you so much for all your support!! I means a lot to me

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likethetailofacomet · 6 years ago

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Love, Again

A/N: (flourish) With this chapter I do hereby proclaim the official end to “Learning to Love Again”! (cease) It has been a long, bumpy, unexpected ride, and I want to thank each and every one of you that read, commented, liked, reblogged, yelled at me, threatened me, suggested songs, gave me input, helped me dig out of a plot hole, or messaged me to chat about this series and Drake and Claire. I enjoyed playing with these characters and bending the rules a bit so that they could have the chance at love that I felt like they deserved. I loved giving them backstories and motives. I answered some questions here, but left a few things still hanging in the balance- those things will come back into play very soon in the planned follow up called The Broken Bits...I left a few things broken, and I need to fix them. ;)

Pairing: Drake x Claire (featuring: Liam, Olivia, Dan, Leo, and Bastien)

Word Count: 5,116

Tunes: Learning to Love Again, Mat Kearney AND Latch (acoustic), Sam Smith

“There was damage to the subscapular artery, which is why the procedure took as long as it did. You had lost quite a lot of blood by the time you arrived, Mr. Walker,” Claire's fingers tightened around Drake's as the doctor explained the extent of his injuries, recalling the scene in the ballroom and the pool of blood she'd seen him lying in. He squeezed back, as tightly as he could, reassuring her that it was alright as the doctor continued. “And once we got that under control we were able to repair the artery. We did have to open the bicep to access the entire affected area, which was unexpected, and does prolong the necessary monitoring period.” Drake flicked his eyes to his left arm. The medication was starting to fade and he could feel the sharp, deep, pain starting to return in his arm and back, his shoulder feeling heavy and unstable. “The blood loss and damaged artery had put a decent amount of stress on your heart, so we made the call to finish the arterial repair and close up. We will still have to go back in to repair the shoulder joint and scapula, but we needed to wait so as not to place too much stress on your body.”

The full weight of how close he'd come to death seemed finally to settle in and he swallowed a hard, dry lump in his throat, nodding at the doctor. He tilted his head to the side to look at Claire, who was still gazing intently at the doctor who had saved Drake's life, listening as he went on about medications, the anticipated second surgery and therapy that would follow. His eyes fell to the bandages that covered her throat and wrist, and he was reminded of how close he'd come to losing her. As that chilling fact settled in his chest, right next to his own brush with mortality, he felt a strangled breath escape him, felt his lungs burn as his ribs contracted and expanded with his quick breathing. His sudden alarm drew Claire's attention immediately, her free hand joining the other one, both grasping Drake's as his eyes found hers, and she saw the fear inside them.

The doctor was checking the monitors attentively, and Claire held her breath until he spoke. “It's alright, Mr. Walker, you're going to be fine, you were very lucky.” He finished taking notes on his chart and said that a nurse would be by in a few hours to take him for some tests and scans before exiting the room.

Claire brought one hand up to Drake's face, her thumb moving slowly back and forth across his cheek. “Hey,” she whispered softly, leaning her top half over the bed, trying to be as close to his as possible. “What's going on in there?” she asked, bringing her fingertips to dance over his forehead.

Drake closed his eyes as her touch lingered over his face, over his temples, fingers eventually brushing back his unkempt hair. He couldn't believe he'd come so close to never feeling that again, to never hearing the way her voice vibrates in her throat when she whispers, to never watching the way a certain strand of hair would always fall across her eyes as she leaned forward. “Berkley,” he finally choked out, eyes still closed, and she paused her movements, returning her hands to his. His dark eyes opened and latched onto hers, and she saw for the first time just how deep they went- down, all the way into his heart, into his soul, into the hidden parts that made him who he was. He slid his fingers between hers as he spoke. “I almost lost you,” his eyes filled with pain as they roved over the place on her throat where a gash had been fixed with nine stitches, to the place on her arm where a bullet had grazed her as she tried to help him. “I've never been more scared in my life, Claire, and it wasn't because of this,” he nodded down at his shoulder and chest. “It wasn't getting shot, it wasn't that I could have died...” although that part wasn't great, either. He swallowed as his voice cracked a bit, throat still sore from the tubes that had been necessary for him to breathe during surgery. “It was the thought that I might never see you again, might never ...hold you again...Claire, I was terrified of losing you.”

Claire took a shaking breath as flashes of the last 48 hours cut through her mind- the waiting, the agonizing expanse of time, the hum of the florescent lighting, the acrid, chemical smell that permeated the paint on the walls; the weakness, the way she felt boneless and frail, how she had relied on Olivia and Bastien for all but air. She blinked a few times, clearing her mind. “Drake,” when she finally spoke she stroked her thumb over the pulse point on his wrist, heard him release a low breath at the light touch. “I was so, so scared that I might lose you, too. So scared...” she bent to kiss the spot she'd been stroking, felt his skin warm beneath her lips. “But I'm right here,” she softened her eyes. “I'm here, because of you. You saved my life, Drake...”

He ached with the need to hold her, but his injuries rendered his arms useless. “Berkley,” he said softly as tears threatened to slide down her cheeks again. “Don't think for one second that you didn't save mine, too.” He struggled, using all of his strength and will power so as not to grimace, but he picked his hand up off the bed and folded his fingers around her wrist, drawing her eyes to where he touched her. “You were my reason to hold on, Berkley...you gave me something to look forward to...you taught me that there's something worth fighting for...you saved me, Claire Berkley, long before this.”

Claire wasted no time in bringing her lips to his before kissing him slowly, like air, like breathing. She felt the little hiss of breath he let out when her mouth found his; felt the way his whole being was reaching and stretching, trying to connect to her- felt the way that her soul was trying to curl around his inside that kiss. “Lets not do all this again, then, huh?” she gasped as they broke the kiss, but smiled as his own lips twitched upwards. “You saved me, I saved you...we're good on this now, right?” she was crying but her smile was bigger than her tears and it caused his to grow, too.

“Sounds like something I could get behind, Berkley,” his eyes flicked down to her lips, summoning her for another life giving kiss. “I love you, beautiful,” he mumbled against her mouth.

“I know you do, you big softy,” she said, leaning her forehead against his. “And I love you. And we're going to get you through this, and then Drake, you know what we're going to do?” That dreamy quality that he hadn't heard in weeks was back in her voice and it made him feel like finally, they could live without fear.

“Tell me, Berkley,” he said, looking at her though his lashes, still holding her wrist, his fingers moving over her skin.

“We're going to live, Drake. Just live. Just us.”

Just us. His heart fluttered and a warm wave rippled through his entire body that had nothing to do with the new round of medication that the doctor had set up before leaving the room earlier. “Just us,” he said softly as his eyelids became heavy and he let sleep take him back under. Claire sat with him, ghosting her fingers over the exposed skin of his forearm, until she too, had fallen asleep, woken only by the nurse that had come to take Drake for testing.

“Why don't you go get some rest, wash up and maybe have something to eat, ma'am,” the nurse was young and bright eyed, but had a soft, warm voice, and Claire nodded, kissing Drake's knuckles gently before the woman wheeled him out of the room.

. . . . . .

Dan had landed in Cordonia International exactly ten hours after speaking with Olivia. He'd gotten a cab and headed directly for JFK, practically before they'd even hung up the phone. He hadn't even bothered to tell himself that he'd sleep on the plane- he knew better than to think that he'd be able to rest until he saw Claire, saw that she was alright, put his arms around her and felt her, solid and safe. The headlines had been hard to read, and harder to believe- Alex had been killed, along with two other members of the rebel group he'd joined up with. Cordonian police, in cooperation with the Royal King's Guard had detained the remaining members, all of whom were due to stand trial, all of whom would likely never see the outside of a jail cell again. The King had been killed, his wife gravely injured, and Liam, Claire's friend the Prince...or, King, now... had also suffered injuries in the attacks. There was nothing in the news that spoke of Drake Walker's heroics, but from what Olivia had told him, Dan owed Drake everything for saving the life of his best friend. There was space in the news for articles about how this all would shake things up at court, questioning the stability of the to crown, speculating on whether or not there were more rebel forces, waiting quietly for the right time to strike, but there was no space for a common citizen who'd risked his life to save the life of a foreigner, and that point wasn't lost on Dan. Headlines or not, Drake Walker had become one of Dan's favorite people and he hadn't even met the man. Leaning his forehead against the window in the plane's cabin as it made its descent into the Kingdom of Cordonia, he silently hoped he'd get the chance to.

He'd taken another cab right to the hospital, sending Olivia a text before he'd even pulled up to the curb. I'm here. Where do I go? He didn't bother pocketing the phone, holding it in one hand as the other dragged across his face and covered a yawn. The phone buzzed not a full two seconds later.

I'll be right down

He waited where she'd instructed him to be dropped off, kicking his shoe against the curb. He sniffed the cool afternoon air, looking around the back alley where he stood. Dan had never left the country before, but had always wanted to travel. This wasn't what he had in mind, but there was no where else in the world he'd rather be. Claire needed him, and he needed her. A door to a stairwell opened and a stunning red haired woman appeared. She was tall and thin, wearing sleek black pants and a casual black top, scarlet lipstick coloring her plump lips. Her sharp eyes flashed, green and attentive, and he beckoned him over as she called out. “Dan?” she crossed her arms over her chest but stood straight as she addressed him.

He took a step in her direction, his hand outstretched to greet her. “Duchess Olivia, or...I,” he nervously stuck his other hand in his pocket as she shook his hand firmly. “I'm not sure what to call you...” He shrugged.

Olivia noted the bags beneath his eyes, the wrinkles in his clothing, and surmised that he'd slept about as much as she had in the past few days. She noted his strong jawline and the dark, inked lines of a tattoo peeking out from beneath his shirtsleeve. “Just Olivia is fine,” she said coolly, trying not to let her eyes linger too long on any one aspect of the attractive stranger in front of her. “I'm glad you're here,” she said, reclaiming her hand and letting it fall to her side.

“Yeah,” he said, a humorless, exhausted laugh leaving his mouth, causing the few days of growth on his lip and chin to twitch. “Wish it was under better circumstances, but hey...” he cleared his throat. “I'm, uh...I'm glad I'm here too...thank you,” he said, a note of genuine sincerity taking the place of sarcasm and snark. “Thank you, for...everything you did for C...I...well, just thanks, hmm?” he pressed his lips together and nodded, gesturing with his hands, hoping they'd make up for his lack of speech.

“You're welcome,” Olivia returned his nod, studying the nervous use of his hands. “Follow me, I'll take you to her,” she inclined her head towards the door to indicate that he should follow her, his sneakers silently one step behind the click of her low but fashionable heels.

“I uh, I heard that the prince... er, King, that he was also injured?” Dan asked tentatively as they climbed the staircase.

Olivia faltered and he saw her clutch the railing a bit tighter for the briefest of seconds. “Yes,” she said after clearing her throat and without turning around. “He's going to make a full recovery, though, Drake too.” She stated the facts as though she needed to hear them as much as Dan did. “They're both very strong...very lucky...”

“Lucky to have people like you on their side,” Dan said as they reached the top. Olivia faltered again, caught off guard by the compliment. She wasn't used to them, not on her personality, not on her character.

“Oh, I don't know,” she said quietly. “I think they'd be fine without me...” she shrugged her shoulders and tried to shrug his sentiments with them, but his words and they way that he spoke them stuck.

“Olivia, just take my word for it,” Dan laid his hand gently on her shoulder, her skin tingling through the fabric of her shirt, not used to the touch.

She nodded, sniffed and averted her eyes. “Well, alright. Thanks.” she sighed. “Anyway, they took Drake for some testing a little while ago. Claire's in the waiting area just through there,” she pointed to the double doors ahead of them. “I have to go make some calls,” she made up an excuse not to follow him, not wanting to be there in the way of Dan and Claire's reunion.

Dan could tell that she was giving him space, and smiled. “Okay, sure,” he said. “Well, I'll see you around then.” She had already started dialing a number on her phone, shooting him a glance before bringing it to her ear and returning his smile with a smaller one of her own. He pushed through the doors and on instinct, his eyes found her immediately. “C!” he called, and hastened his steps to close the distance as quickly as possible.

Claire's eyes widened and she stood bolt upright at the unmistakable sound of Dan's voice. “Dan?!” she felt a relief she didn't even know that she was missing come over her as she looked up and saw him only a few feet away. “Dan! ” she said again as his strong arms came around her in a brotherly hug, pulling her into his chest. Hugging Daniel was like coming home for the holidays and smelling your favorite meal cooking. It was like being wrapped in a warm blanket after coming in from the storm, like laughing forever at your favorite joke, finding it just as funny the hundredth time as it was the first. Hugging Daniel was to feel family. She felt his uneven breath on her scalp as he held her tight.

“C, oh my god, I'm so happy you're okay, you're safe...I was so worried when you didn't call me,” he was speaking directly into her hair and she could feel him shaking slightly. She was immediately filled with guilt for not getting in touch with him.

“I'm so sorry, Dan,” she felt tears slip past her eyelids, felt her throat tighten. “I'm..I was...”

He peeled her away from him to look her in the eye. “Hey, no, that's not what I meant, okay? I know Drake was...hurt bad and...look I understand why you didn't call, okay? I'm just so glad you're safe.” He pulled her into another hug and she threw her arms back around him, holding on to the big brother the universe had given her later in life. They embraced for a few long moments before sitting back down, Claire filling him in on everything that had happened, his arm around her the entire time.

After about an hour, Dan drifted off to sleep. The jet lag and general stress of not knowing if Claire was safe, of helplessness and worry had finally caught up to him. Claire stretched and yawned, took a few moments to answer some messages from Hana and Maxwell. She checked the time and saw that there was still at least another hour before she could expect Drake to return based on what the nurse had told her, so she took advantage of the comfort of having Dan with her to get some sleep.

. . . . . .

Drake's scans and tests had all gone without a hitch- they were still waiting for the results, but nothing had happened to inhibit the diagnostics. A nurse informed him that “Ms. Berkley” had fallen asleep in the waiting area, and asked if he wanted her to be woken up.

“No,” he said with a slight shake of his head, “no, thank you, ma'am...she should rest,” he knew how little sleep she'd been getting, and was glad to know that she'd found some. The nurse smiled and nodded, leaving his room. Drake sighed, imagining Claire asleep curled up in a chair in the waiting area, wishing that she could curl up against his body instead. It would be a long while before that was an option, according to his doctors, and while he hated that fact, not much could dim the happiness in his heart just knowing that they were both alive and safe and that they'd have a lifetime of curling up together to look forward to.

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts, as Bastien appeared. He'd been in the previous evening, shortly after Drake had woken up, and the two had shared a moment of appreciation for the others' safety. Drake had wanted to talk to Bastien about the dream he'd had, about the woman, Annabelle, that he could almost remember- ask him why she'd been part of his vision, why she'd come to him along with the most influential people in his life... but he hadn't even talked to Claire about his dream yet. He could wait to bring it up with Bastien, too. He sensed that Bastien needed to focus on the here and now, and if he was being honest with himself, that's what he needed as well.

“Bas,” Drake greeted him, trying to sit up a little straighter against the pillows.

“Relax, Drake,” Bastien put his hands up. “You have a visitor,” he stepped aside and opened the door wider to reveal Leo, and Drake's eyes nearly dropped out of his head.

“Rhys!” Drake exclaimed as Leo entered the room.

Leo's eyes washed slowly over Drake, taking in the bandages and monitors, his pale complexion, the slightly clouded look in his eyes. “Shit, Walker, you look like Hell,” he said, trying for a joke but coming up just a touch short.

Drake scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, I know, this is a lot, huh?” He knew Leo's way was to cover everything with sarcasm. In that way they were quite a bit alike...well, until recently, anyway, when Drake had learned that it was alright to feel things, and to show it.

“You...you okay, Drake?” Leo asked, a look of shock on his face that he was trying to get rid of by blinking repeatedly. He'd just been in to see Liam, had just met Claire, spoken with Olivia...he'd just learned all the details and seen all the damage, and Drake knew he was having a hard time processing it all, but also that he was having a hard time with the guilt he knew Leo felt for not being around for Liam through the season.

“I will be,” he said assuredly. “Got too much to look forward to, not to make it now.”

Leo nodded. “Yeah, I just met her,” he said with a smile. “You got a good one, Walker. Don't fuck it up.” The joke was back in his voice, a sparkle in his eye that Drake had known to be pretty much constant.

“No intention to do any such thing,” he promised.

Leo cleared his throat. “Good,” he said with a smile before sitting down. Bastien dragged the second chair in the room closer to Drake's bed. “Now, as happy as I am to see you in...relatively...one piece, I'm here on official business for my brother.” He nodded in the direction of Liam's room. “He wanted to come in here himself- he's been wanting to come see you- but the doctors say he can't get out of bed for another day or so, and this couldn't wait.” Leo paused to make sure that Drake understood the gravity of what they were about to discuss. “Drake, you know Liam has a different viewpoint of how the country should be run...different from our father's...different from any other King in Cordonia's history...” Drake nodded. He did know, and he supported, Liam's open mindedness. He knew that the Cordonian citizens were growing tired of the old fashioned ways of the nobility and the crown. “Well,” Leo continued with Bastien's steely eyes focused on Drake, ready for his reaction. “Well, Liam has decided that his first act as King will be to... to dissolve the Monarchy.” Drake's eyebrows flew up and he searched Leo and Bastien's faces. Bastien nodded once and Drake felt a shock that wasn't necessarily unwelcome pass through his mind as he started wrapping it around the idea of a Kingless Cordonia. “He wants to institute a Common Council, with one representative from each Duchy...well, they'd be referred to as Regions...” Leo went on to explain Liam's plans for a new government in Cordonia, one that would give more power to the people, more of a say in how their country was lead, more of a chance to have their problems heard and their questions answered. Each representative would serve a 2 year term, at the end of which their Region would vote on whether or not they are happy with their representation. If so, that representative would serve another 2 years should they choose to stay on, and if not, another election would be held to find a suitable replacement. Liam would serve as the first Head of Council, but would be subjected to the same 2 year terms as the Regional Representatives. Future Heads of Council would be elected from existing Council members, by the Council.

There were still quite a few details to iron out, and clearly a lot of legislation and paperwork that would have to happen, and Drake's head was spinning slightly. But the more Leo spoke, the more he could hear Liam in his words, and the more he knew that this was exactly what Cordonia needed. He looked over to Bastien again, and thought he saw something that looked like hope in the man's tired eyes. He realized that it never occurred to him that Bastien might have been putting a life on hold to serve in the King's Guard, and that now that there wouldn't be a King to guard... Drake found himself wondering for the first time what life might be like for Bastien once he was no longer bound by duty. Again, a conversation for another time.

“He's appointed me as the Representative from Fydelia,” Leo went on, mentioning Cordonia's capital. Most of the other appointments are still up in the air...Olivia will likely be chosen for Lythikos...but...Drake,” Leo wasn't quite done, his eyes still serious as he hit Drake with Liam's last bit of news. “He wants you to serve on the first Common Council of Cordonia, as the Representative from Valtoria. He...he wants you there to support him...to help him lead... to help him take care of the people.”

Again, the shock that wasn't completely a shock passed through his chest and mind, and he found himself nodding as words fell out of his mouth. “Tell him I accept,” Drake didn't need to think twice. He knew that if Liam needed him, he'd be there, and he was actually feeling oddly confident and sure about all of this. If Claire could teach him how to love again after all the pain and damage that he'd had in his life, surely he and Liam and the rest of the Council could teach the country to trust their leaders again. This would be different from a ruling noble class- Liam was calling for the end of titles, the end of rule being passed down based on a name. Several of the estates owned by the royal family would be donated to the State of Cordonia, to be converted into museums, or used as academic buildings. He knew there would be push back from some of the older families- Lord Pyke's smug, yellowed face came to mind- but he knew that ultimately they would have the support of the people, that ultimately, this would save their country from slipping into constant turmoil. Drake wished he could go and speak with Liam in person, wished he could look him in the eye as he made the promise to support him, to take on his new role with integrity and responsibility.

“You should tell him yourself,” Leo said, picking Drake's phone up off of the bedside and handing it to him. “But, unofficially, welcome to the Council,” Leo stood and held his hand out. Drake struggled and grimaced, but was able to shake Leo's hand, a unifying look passing between them- Leo and Drake had a lot in common, but a distaste for the way things had been going in Cordonia was the largest one, and now they'd get a chance to help Liam change things. Leo let go of Drake's hand and exited the room.

“Bas,” Drake looked at the man who'd been his father figure for the past twenty two years. “What do you think of all of this?” he shook his head slightly.

Bastien gazed down at his mentor's son as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. “I think that this is exactly what Cordonia needs. I think Liam is doing the right thing. And Drake?” Drake had been nodding along with Bastien, but looked into the man's eyes when he said his name. “You are the right man for the job. Even if you reach a point where you doubt yourself. Remember, Liam chose you for this position. It's not a default, it's not a favor. He chose you, Drake Walker. Claire chose you...” Bastien finished with his sleeves. “You've come a long way, Drake. You have a long way to go, a lot of work to put in, but you're on the right road, with the right people...your father...he'd be very proud of you, I hope you know that.”

Drake felt Bastien's words resonate in his heart as he followed Leo out of the room. He stared at the phone in his hand before dialing Liam's number, holding it up to speak with his best friend. It rang twice before Liam's voice was coming through the speaker. “Drake?”

“Hey, Li,” Drake tried to sound nonchalant, but the truth was that they were both overwhelmed with relief and happiness at the sound of the others' voice.

“Hey, didn't anyone tell you not to go throwing yourself in front of bullets, Drake?”

“Not sure anyone thought they'd have to,” Drake joked.

There was a brief moment of silence before Liam spoke again. “I'm...shit,” he cleared his throat. “I'm glad that...”

Drake knew what he was trying to say. He knew he couldn't fathom losing Liam any more than he could losing Claire or Bastien, knew Liam felt the same. “I know, Li. Me too,” he said, clearing his own throat. “But sounds like we have a lot to talk about...” he changed the subject to the Council, accepting Liam's offer to serve. They would have a lot of work to do once they were out of the hospital.

“But you need to focus on recovering, first and foremost, Councilman Walker,” Liam said, “Cordonia needs you in top form...and so does Claire,” Drake could hear the smile in his friend's voice, and knew that even though he was hurting from the loss of his father, from Kiara's betrayal and the shock of everything that had happened, he knew that Liam was still happy for Drake and Claire and the love that they'd found.

“Yeah,” Drake said, as his door opened and a sleepy-eyed Claire walked towards him. “Hey, brother, you focus on that, too,” the ended their conversation as Claire crossed the room to stand next to the bed. Drake could barely keep his eyes open. He had so much he needed to tell her, but it would have to wait for the morning as he felt sleep start to wrap itself around him like a blanket.

“Hey, you,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek lightly, her feather soft hair tickling his skin like magic.

“Hey, Berkley,” he mumbled, turning his head so that his lips would find a bit of skin near her jaw. She sunk into the chair beside his bed and her fingers found his. She laid her head down on her arms, her breath warm against the skin of his wrist as she resumed the position they'd fallen asleep together in earlier that day. “Berkley,” he said her name again, both of them barely awake. She hummed a response. “Berkley, everything is going to change soon...but not you...not us...wherever you are, so am I...always, Berkley. I love you.”

“Gra go deo, Walker,” she yawned the words but he felt the warmth and the truth behind them despite how tired she was, how battered they both had been, how much they'd all been through. “Forever, Drake,” she said through another yawn as her eyes slipped closed. “I love you, forever.”

Hey brother, we’re all learning to love again.

tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @sleepwalkingelite @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @jovialyouthmusic @mind-reader1 @endlessly-searching-for-you @notoriouscs @endlesstaylormckenzie @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @akrenich @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @thequeenofcronuts @the-everlasting-dream @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @stopforamoment @mkatschoicesblog @mfackenthal @drakewalkerisreal @jlouise88 @drakesensworld @gibbles82 @gardeningourmet @iplaydrake

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nikanndros · 6 years ago

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The Arranged Marriage AU Part 18 [Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17]

The cell Laurent is put in is made of rough stone and barred walls, and it is in general not a very nice place to be. Damen had wanted to lock Kastor and Laurent away to their rooms, but Laurent had insisted it be the cells beneath the palace. Damen cannot look weak just because his alleged traitors are people he loves. Or loved. Laurent is not so sure what the expression on Damen’s face had meant.

A loud clanging of the main door opening and closing rings out through the cells, the sound of footsteps immediately following it. Laurent looks through the bars and waits until the visitor stops outside his cell. Even in the dim lighting, he can make out Nikandros’ form. His straight backed silhouette is intimately familiar to Laurent.

“Nik,” Laurent says, quietly. He stands and moves closer to the bars, to see him clearer, but Nik takes a step back. Laurent stops. He isn’t entirely sure of the time, but it has taken at least a few hours for Nikandros to come here.

“I wanted answers,” he replies. He sounds weary, of course he does.

“I won’t lie to you,” Laurent promises, despite how little good it will surely do.

Nikandros purses his lips. “You barely even tried to defend yourself, when that Veretian was slinging accusations at you. What am I to think of that?”

“I didn’t want to try until I heard all that he had against me,” Laurent shrugs, pretends that he isn’t overly concerned. “Damen was quicker to lock me up then I thought he would be.”

Nik’s fists keep clenching, his gaze is hard. Laurent hasn’t seen him truly angry before this moment. “Did you kill him?” Nikandros hisses.

“Be more specific,” Laurent replies. “There were a lot of accusations today.”

“I am not in the mood for this.”

Laurent sighs. “My uncle? Yes. Theomedes? No.”

“Were you colluding with Kastor?”

“No,” Laurent says. “Of course not. The only time I have spoken to him is when you happened upon us, and that was coincidence.”

“I told you I didn’t trust him, and then I caught you seeking him out in the gardens alone.”

Kastor makes an insulted noise from a cell over. “You warned him against me? I cut your hair once and we were children.”

“No,” Nikandros barely spares Kastor a glance. “Damen and I were children. Just like we were when you stabbed Damen in his first duel with a real blade.”

“The way he was swinging that knife around in excitement,” Kastor argues, “it’s a miracle he was only wounded.”

“You stabbed him?” Laurent asks, horrified.

“He walked it off.” Kastor waves a hand dismissively.

“Laurent,” Nikandros insists. “You went hunting with me in Delpha. Why did you pretend you didn’t want to when King Theomedes invited you? And then you happened to be alone, unmonitored when he was killed.”

“I am not so powerful that I can cause a hunting accident, although thank you for your faith in my abilities, husband.”

“Don’t call me that,” Nikandros snaps. He looks shocked at his own words then, and takes another step back.

Laurent doesn’t know what his own expression is doing, he just knows that there is an awful feeling in his chest, and it must be bad because Nikandros looks away from him.

“These accusations don’t make sense,” Laurent tries, quietly. “If I had wanted Damen dead, I’ve had ample opportunities. He would be dead. I could have poured poison into your evening wine and you would have both died together. I wouldn’t have needed to conspire with anyone.”

Nikandros nods. “There was a vial found in your rooms, and we have a poison master who swears he sold it to you. He says he didn’t know who you were but his description of you was very convincing.”

Laurent tries to take heart in the fact that Nikandros is bringing these things to Laurent now, rather than just assuming that he is guilty. “He is lying. Ask people around his shop if they saw me as well. Chauvin gave me the vial,” Laurent replies. “If you test the contents, you’ll find that I tipped the poison out and replaced it with water. I only kept the container in case I needed to make a ruse with it later to draw him out.”

Nikandros is quiet for a very long moment. “For what reason,” he says, finally, “could Chauvin have to frame you like this?”

“He is answering orders.”

“You accuse your father then?”

“I cannot,” Laurent replies. He presses himself against the bars, urgent for Nikandros’ complete attention. “Listen to me, Nikandros. If I accuse my father then there will be war. If there is war then Damen will ride out against my brother, and no matter who wins that battle - I will lose. I refuse to risk either of their lives. I cannot accuse my father or defend myself.”

“Your father doesn’t want war,” Nikandros sighs. “He didn’t give us Delpha and marry you to me only to make us go to war anyway.”

“He’ll have Damen murdered first, and strike while Akielos is unstable. Kastor won’t be a suitable heir after this, and I’ve been put away from where I can help.”

Nikandros sighs again. He looks so tired that it is almost painful to gaze at him. Between rushing to return to the capital and then getting involved in these accusations, he must have barely had a moments rest. “This story that you’re weaving is so fantastical,” he says. “I can barely stand it. Your father hates you because you murdered your uncle, so he sent you here to spy and then tried to get all of us killed so that he can have a war that he has no guarantees he’ll win.”

Laurent shakes his head. “My father has always wanted this war between our countries. I didn’t know it at the time by my uncle was something of a spymaster. Apparently, he had the secret connections and information we needed to beat you on the field. When I killed him, I lost us our greatest advantage. That is why my father hates me. That’s why he sent me here, and why he doesn’t mind letting me die now that he knows I will not obey him.”

“So, that is your father’s plot.”

“It is. It’s why I’ve been ignoring his letters: I refuse to do his bidding. All he wants is to hurt you.”

Nikandros is massaging his temple with one hand. Laurent is used to the gesture, he tends to inspire migraines in people. “I’m supposed to believe - what? That the moment you married me your loyalties changed away from your family?”

“I have no love left for my father,” Laurent says. “I would do anything for my mother and Auguste but they would not ask it of me.”

“So you did nothing Aleron asked of you? Other than that first report you sent.”

Laurent pauses. He has promised honesty. “Nothing I wouldn’t have done anyway.”

Nikandros is perceptive. “Did you want us or was that all just your father’s orders?” he asks, in an even tone.

Laurent can’t help it, he looks away. “I did want you. I do.”

Nikandros won’t hear it. “Did your father tell you to come to me, to act sweet and vulnerable, and have me take you into my bed?”

There is a long, tense moment where they look at each other.

“Yes,” Laurent says. “He told me to keep you happy.”

Nik closes his eyes, his shoulders drop. “And Damen?”

“I didn’t love you at first,” Laurent says. “You didn’t want me either. But that changed, Nik. You have been nothing but kind to me. How could I not love you after all that has been between us?”

He looks unmoved. “Did you invite Damen to join us because your father ordered it?”

“No,” Laurent admits. “That wasn’t planned.”

Nikandros looks at him, closely. Perhaps honesty wasn’t the best policy after all. “Alright,” he says, simply. Then he turns and walks away.

Laurent reaches out between the bars. “Nikandros, wait!”

The door clangs shut. It echoes. Laurent sits down, on the dirty ground and tries to breathe. It must be hopeless now. Damen has not visited him at all; Nikandros is hurt and betrayed and he will not help Laurent. He might as well walk to his execution now. Auguste will be so upset. So will mother - and she is so delicate to stress; she was very ill when Laurent was a child, this will destroy her.

“That was honestly embarrassing to witness,” Kastor’s voice rings out from his own cell. “I think Nik will be scarred for the rest of his life.”

“Shut up,” Laurent says. “Just the idea that I would collude with the likes of you is disgusting.”

“I mean, at least I didn’t fuck a guy because my daddy ordered it.”

“It was a political marriage, that much is expected.” Laurent scowls into the darkness.

“Stop speaking as if you’re so much better than me when you were caught in this trap just the same.”

“There has to be some way to prove our innocence,” Laurent says, more to himself than to Kastor. “Before we are executed, preferably.”

“Damen won’t execute me,” Kastor’s voice sounds astounded that Laurent would even suggest such a thing. “He’s my brother. He’ll banish me back to Vask at worst.”

“He is a king. He has to set an example against traitors.”

There’s a long pause. “Have you ever actually told my brother to do something he doesn’t want to do? It’s like you don’t know him at all.”

#captive prince #writing #the arranged marriage au #d/n/l #okay there's 1-2 parts left at most #depending on if i decide to break the next bit up #home stretch babey

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rosietommasi · 6 years ago

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where the wind blows || self para

who: rosemarie tommasi, sky tommasi and reed tommasi, mentions of past class mates. (mention of @alistan29 @calebfournierx @cartermaddx )

where: half moon bay, california. tommassi home.

when: over thanksgiving break

warnings: bipolar disorder tw, mental health tw,, medication tw, panic attack tw, hospital tw, food mention tw, death mention tw,

She felt just fine. Nothing was wrong, everything was great, she was happy....

Right?

Rosie never had a childhood room, instead she spent most of her childhood in the back of the luxury RV that her parents had, or hotel rooms, for a short period before the RV upgrade it was spent in the back of an old fashioned van. That was before her father’s book took off, a motivational novel written on being the best version of yourself, for finding inner peace amongst the many dark thoughts that could cloud your brain....ironic, wasn’t it? His daughter, who was a cheery vision of bliss, couldn’t even escape from her demons when he wrote a whole fucking book on conquering them. It was laughable at best.

But still, she was thankful for that book, it put food in her mouth and of course her father never saw the issues with her coming. None of them did. Not until she was ten years old, something switched, like someone came into her brain and turned a light off momentarily.

Right now, however, she felt great. All the wins the Foxes had before break had her riding a high as she made her way to the airport to head back to California. Bags happily rolling behind her, comfy yet stylish boots hitting the floor with excitement behind every step as she made her way out the door to see her parents there waiting with huge smiles on their faces. It wasn’t too long before tears flooded her eyes as she rushed to their open arms, bolting as she collided with the strong chest of her father and the sweet floral scent of her mother’s perfume. They were worried for a moment, at the sight of tears, but she laughed under her breath as she glanced up as them and shook her head.

“They are happy tears, I promise. I’m so glad to see you guys...I missed you so much.”

She didn’t even realize how much she’d missed them up until this moment, the ache in her chest now notable as she squeezed them for a minute longer before shoving her bags in the trunk and hopping in the backseat. It was second nature, it was familiar, and she sighed as she rolled her window down and closed her eyes as the California breeze hit her face.

This was her home. It was stable now. She was stable now.

That’s what she had been reminding herself constantly, that the reason she was so ‘broken’ was due to her life of instability. Never having any lasting relationships with anyone, always being the shiny new kid every school she entered. always trying hard to be as perfect as she could to impress any and everyone she met.....but under the surface of perfect outfits, dazzling smiles, and cheery attitudes was a violent storm that came to it’s peak that day at Arlington High School.

Her hand still tingled at the memory of how it had once connected to another girls nose, violence like never before had shook her, the image of the blood on her knuckle still burned into the very depths of her mind. It left her with a feeling of unease every time it crept into her thoughts, a reminder that she wasn’t this person she pushed hard to be. She didn’t like that, she didn’t like the fact she couldn’t control her emotions without the helping hand of a happy little pill. Rosie felt controlled, and honestly her mother and father weren’t too keen on the idea of medication the first time it was brought up up until they realized all the other alternatives weren’t going to work.

Crying and getting upset over the smallest things and then an hour later, she would be fine then later in the day she was happy and wanting to grab ice cream. A shift here, a shift there, and it was tearing her apart...so they turned to medication. What really sealed the deal was the violence it was starting to bring, the way Rosie went from happy with small episodes to completely unhinged and self destructing.

But she was fine now.

Of course she packed her medication with her, informing her parents she had been taking them, of course she’s been taking them!! How dare you think differently!! A small laugh here, a wave of the hand there, she assured them she had it on lock. In reality, she had been skipping plenty of dosages now that she had been on this happiness high that she didn’t want to end due to a stupid little pill. Wasn’t that the point of them? To make her feel better? If she felt fine, if she felt happy, she didn’t need them. That was her logical thinking, she didn’t want them weighing her down as she floated blissfully along.

Finally she was home, front door swinging open to a homey little two bedroom space. Pictures of her family hung up on the walls from various places they visited, various places they lived, and there was a warm smell of cinnamon and home cooked meals in the air. It was weird, but at the same time, it filled her with a sense of stability to have a place to actually call home that wasn’t on four wheels. So she kicked her shoes off and skipped into her room happily, dropping off her bags before slipping out of the back door and taking the small 5 minute walk to the beach.

Even if she was happy, she had a lot on her mind, and as she settled into the sand she was reminded of it as her gaze landed on a couple very much all over each other not too far from where she was perched. It brought back the memory of seeing Alis and Caleb kiss, a small surge of jealousy in the depth of her chest as she dug her fingers into the sand under her palms. Left with so many questions, she’d been minding her business, using this break as a way to distance herself and clear her mind but it kept coming up. While it was true that at the Halloween party she may have hooked up with Carter, it was different. She hadn’t even hung out with Alis outside of the one time they met at the bonfire, but when Alis had kissed Caleb after they had gone to Sweeties....well, it was unsettling and a bit confusing.

Out of no where, she felt a tightening in her chest and she pushed herself up to her feet, pacing the sand as she tapped her fingers together. Her feels pushed into the sand with every step, breath shallow in the expanse of her lungs as she squeezed her eyes shut. Calm down. Take deep breaths. Relax. For the love of God, relax.

She couldn’t, and now she was digging her teeth into her bottom lip as she felt it shaking. A mood swing. She’d experienced plenty but it’d been a while, and as her hands shook, she was suddenly nervous. If she went back home, her parents would know she’d lied, that she’d been skipping her medication. And that’s when a crazy idea came into her mind.

What if her medicine suddenly...disappeared?

It didn’t make sense, sure, but to Rosie in this state of mind it did. No medicine meant she didn’t have to take it. And she rushed back home and barreled through the back door, reaching her room and digging the bottle out of her bag. Hands still shaking, she slipped into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her, unscrewing the cap before hearing her a knock on the door.

“Sweetie, are you in there??” It was the sound of her mother’s voice and she swallowed down the lump in her throat, wiping her cheeks of the tears that had somehow gotten there without her permission. Hand still shaking as she gripped the orange bottle in her nimble fingers.

“Y-Yeah, sorry, I think....jet lag....I-I’m fine.” Her voice was just as unstable as her emotions but she still glanced at the medicine and then the toilet and then back to the door. In a moment of urgency, she dumped the pills into the water, letting out a shaky breath.

They were gone.

In a simple push of her fingers, she flushed them down and put the empty bottle in the trashcan with a sigh. Pushing herself to her feet again, she walked to the sink and stared at herself in the mirror, gripping the counter top as she let out a slow exhale. “You’re free.” Rosie whispered, hand coming to her reflection, offering a smile.

LATER IN THE DAY:

Her mood went back to normal a few hours later after she took a nap, seeing as she was suddenly exhausted from the whirlwind she’d gone through prior. Curled up in her bed, she fluttered her eyes open when she heard her door open, sitting up a bit at the sight of both her parents now entering the room slowly. “H-Hey, sorry, I was just so tired form traveling.” She explained in a sleep groggy filled voice, pushing long red locks up and out of her face, feeling the weight at the end of her bed shift as her mother sat down on the mattress.

“Honey, we love you...you know that right?” Her father began, his smooth voice comforting in a way she was familiar with. It was the voice he used to help coax her down from a panic attack when she’d been having them so frequently, and she nodded slowly as she stared at him with wide eyes. She almost didn’t even notice the way her mother’s hand rested on the curve of her calve, making her gaze shift between her mother and father, her heart suddenly pounding in her ears. Suddenly it became clear what was going on, her father pulling the empty prescription bottle out into view with a raise of his brow, “Do you want to tell me why this was in the trash?”

Silence hung in the air and Rosie’s gaze went down to her comforter, fingers nervously picking at the fabric as she racked her brain for an answer. “I....I don’t---” Sighing, she sat up and tucked her hair behind her ears, “I don’t like how they make me feel.” She stated simply, crossing her arms over her chest as she shrugged, “I feel fine, I’m fine, I know that people always say you can’t cure mental illness but I think I’m cured? I’ve been so happy, I really don’t need it. “ Her voice was rushed as she glanced back down at her comforter, nibbling on her bottom lip once more, a nervous habit piled on top of the other.

“Sweet heart, I know you don’t think you need them but....remember the last time you thought you were fine?” Her mother spoke softly, rubbing Rosie’s leg as she looked concerned at her daughter. “We had to come pick you up from school because you had an....episode in the middle of your speech class. We just want you to be healthy and not get into any trouble again---”

“I won’t!!” She protested, shaking her head as she felt a sudden rush of tears, reaching out to her mother’s hand with wide eyes, “Please don’t....don’t make me take them anymore. I feel stuck under them, I can’t ever get as happy as I am when I’m not on them and I have it under control this time I promise!”

“Rosie, do we have to contact your college and have someone watch you? We really don’t want it to get to that but if you can’t handle taking them yourself, maybe we have to do that or maybe you should come back home for a while if you don’t think----” Her father began, always the one to put his foot down, and Rosie let out a small little whine as she shook her head wildly again.

“I don’t want to come home! I want to be there! For once I’m actually making friends and I feel stable and I’m so happy! I get to cheer, I get to be around some amazing people!! Please!” There was a sharp inhale as she felt dizzy, shaking her head as she gripped her comforter, “P...please.” Her voice grew softer and suddenly her whole body felt tingly, ears ringing in a way that made her whole body hot. After that she didn’t remember much, everything getting spotty in her vision, and she was lucky she was already laying in bed because she fell backwards onto her mattress with a muffled sound of her parents calling out her name.

When her eyes fluttered open again, she wasn’t home, instead there was a loud beeping noise and everything was bright and white. Holy shit, did she die?

Sitting up a bit, she felt a tightness in her arm and glanced over to see her parents talking to a doctor. A hospital, she was in a hospital, and she sighed as she leaned back. She’d been here two times before, not this exact hospital, but she knew what happened. A severe panic attack, she’d passed out, and now she had to be monitored. Pursing her lips together, she noticed that they now were looking at her and she glanced down to her hands. “I’m sorry.”

It was all she knew what to say in the moment and her mother sighed as she took her daughter’s hand, giving it a light squeeze, “We know it’s not your fault sweet heart, you’re....sick. But you’re fine, and we want you to stay out of places like this. We care about you so much, we don’t....we don’t want this sickness to be the death of you honey.”

She understood, and she nodded slowly. “I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t listen I just, I don’t know. I don’t want t-to be broken like this. I want to be radiant.” Rosie murmured, pursing her lips together again as she glanced back to her mother, her father busy talking to the doctor in the distance. “He’s...he’s not mad at me is he?”

“Oh honey, never, he loves you. We both do. We just need to get you some help and we are going to find a good therapist out near Palmetto. But you need to stay a few days here, and we need to go to your doctor, so we contacted your college. You’ll be back a few days after break, right in time for the game. We just need to get you back on your feet, okay?”

Nodding in agreement, she let out a soft sigh. Her mother was right, the last thing she wanted was to go back to school like this, at her worst. She only wanted her classmates to see her at her best, and she could come up with a good enough excuse, post a few pictures on instagram to make it seem like she was doing A-Okay and then be back in her Vixen uniform in time for the game.

She had to get better.

She was going to be better.

#self para #tw: mental illness #tw: mental health #hospital tw #food tw #panic attack tw #// THIS IS LONG BUT LIKE THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED TO HER AND WHERE SHE'D BEEN OKAY IM SAD

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sprinklesandsugarcubes · 7 years ago

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Pick Your Poison: Part One

Fandom: Riverdale Pairing: Malachai (Ghoulie Leader) x Fem!OC (Faelynne Penthia Jones) Rating: Mature/Explicit Warnings: Language/Cursing, Slight Violence

Want tagged? Drop a note in my Inbox, or leave a comment on the masterlist, here!

She pulled on her arm, squirming in the firm grip, hissing through her teeth when the fingers that were digging into the soft underside of her elbow only tightened, no doubt bruising her pale skin even further. The boy holding onto her couldn’t have been more than nineteen but still, his grip was decently strong, no doubt aided by the cocktail of drugs running rampant throughout his system. He tugged her along behind him, ignoring her protests and the snapped warnings from the dark haired girl being yanked around in front of him, her own arm caught in the firm grasp of yet another Ghoulie who had been guarding their operation.

Groaning in exasperation, she dropped her head back, tugging once more in hopes to free her arm, despite knowing it was futile.

“Stop struggling, Serpent bitch!” The boy snapped, twisting to scowl at her.

Huffing, she nearly stomped her foot, childish as it may be.

She had told both Betty and Veronica that their plan was terrible, and yet, she had gone along with it anyway. Now she was being thrust deeper into Ghoulie territory than she ever wanted to experience; listening to Toni and Sweet Pea tell stories of their nastiness had put a permanently bad taste in her mouth.

She wasn’t looking forward to gaining firsthand experience on rather or not their tales had been true.

“You don’t have to keep yanking my arm out of the socket, asshole!” She snarled, scrabbling at his bare forearm with her free hand. “I’m fucking following-!”

The slam of a door echoed in front of them, and she could hear both Betty and Veronica as they raised their voices, protesting about something she had yet to be able to see.

In her distraction, she had failed to notice her grip on the Ghoulie’s forearm tighten, leaving her nails to dig sharply into his tanned skin. Small bubbles of blood welled to the surface, staining the underside of her nails as she snatched her hand back, wincing when she took note of his murderous expression. His teeth were gritted together and bared at her, glinting in the light as he yanked her toward him, his stature overpowering even her best efforts. His arm raised in the air, the back of his palm primed to make contact with the side of her face, and she had little doubt that he wouldn’t just knock her right the hell out. Despite not being half bad at getting out of troublesome situations, she was still tiny compared to his six-foot stature with her minimal five-three.

Yeah, this was going to hurt.

She squeezed her eyes closed, turning her head to the side in hopes that it might dull the impact if her cheek was already turned.

“Yo, Rooster! Let’s go man, what’s the hold up?”

The Ghoulie, Rooster apparently, snarled beneath his breath, muttering something along the lines of how she was lucky he didn’t have time to do as he pleased. A rippling chill of slight fear traced phantom fingers down her spine, and she only just barely managed to suppress the shiver it produced.

She didn’t fight his harsh grip a second time.

Stumbling over her feet, cursing Veronica quietly for suggesting four inch heels with the leather shorts that were wrapped tight around her ass (and refusing to take no for an answer), she only just managed not to fall flat on her face after the brute shoved her through the doorway. The bottoms of her heels scuffed against cement floors and her hands shot out, catching herself on the shoulder of Veronica and righting herself using the back of Betty’s jacket, which was firmly twisted between her fingers. She’d feel bad about stretching the material, but then she remembered her once-friend’s nasty words to her the day before.

Honestly, she was sad she didn’t at least rip it a little.

“-your bitches?!”

“-beg your misogynistic pardon?”

The girl huffed quietly, glancing down to find the darkening bruises that marred her inner elbow, and the slight smudge of gray against the once perfectly shined, inky black high heel.

“Fucking seriously?!” She hissed, unable to keep her mouth shut as she turned fiery eyes toward her previous captor. “You couldn’t have been the slightest bit more careful, you raging dick!”

Rooster’s eyes were so wide with his sudden rage; it was hard to tell where pupil and iris began.

He lunged forward, clearly intent on beating her ass, there was little doubt. The shrill tone of a whistle echoed throughout the room, however, cutting across the low thrum of music coming out of speakers and dull chatter. The Ghoulie froze in place, his nostrils flaring and his fists clenched, but no longer actively trying to lay hands on her. She had stepped backward until her back was flush with Veronica’s, refusing to take her eyes from the threat and inwardly chastising herself for once more provoking the unstable teenager.

Slow clapping stole away her attention though, and her bourbon brown eyes swung toward the source of the sound, growing in size by just the smallest amount when they fell on a barely clothed boy.

His hair was dark, though rather it was a dark shade of brown or actually black, she couldn’t tell in the dim light. It was cut shorter on bottom and left longer on top, spilling out in a mess of fluffy curls that her fingers itched to teasingly pull at. His eyes were just as dark, pools of near blackness in the light, and fixed firmly upon her. A thin line of dark facial hair covered his upper lip, drawing attention to his mouth, where surprisingly straight and white teeth peeked out between his smirk, gleaming in the low light. His complexion was a beautiful tanned hue, and she couldn’t help but swallow as her eyes followed along the view of unblemished skin that was pulled tight across a solid chest and obvious muscles, left bare by the carelessly knotted lapels of a sheer robe that was covered in nothing but black and skulls. His chest was smooth and utterly tempting, though not half as tempting as the tiny trail of dark hair that she could just see, disappearing down into inky black, and quite possibly silk, boxers. His feet were bare, but a thin chain laid pillowed between his pectorals, and his left forearm was encased in a band with shiny, silver studs all upon it. Another armband decorated his right wrist, and the glint of metal rings caught her eyes more than once.

“Well, well, well…”

He finally spoke, allowing the girl to catch her eyeful with an overly pleased smirk twisting at his lips.

“If it isn’t Daddy’s little Serpent Princess.”

Her teeth sunk down sharply into her bottom lip as she desperately squashed the urge to shiver, or close her eyes, when his rich, velvet tone washed over her. It was like…dark chocolate, smooth and decadently flavorful, with the perfect balance of both sweet and bitter sin.

There was a grunt suddenly, and then a body had moved out of the way, giving her sudden clarity as her twin brother stepped forward, his features rearranged into an impressively furious expression.

“Faelynne, what the hell are you-“

A large, perfectly bronzed hand clapped down on Jughead’s shoulder, easily maneuvering the newest Southside Serpent to the opposite side as one of the Ghoulie’s, this time the one that had been dragging Veronica along, twisted his arm to keep him in place. Her lips parted, concern for her twin near the forefront of her mind as she took a single step forward, only to bump into that same bare chest, a ripple of heat surging up through her arm as they made skin-to-skin contact when her palm pressed to his thick chest for balance. She gasped quietly as her dark eyes snapped up, connecting with pools of deep, fathomless brown that were peering down at her, much as a predator does its prey.

“Tell me, what’s a pretty little thing like you doing in Spooktown,” He rumbled lowly, one thick finger lifting to nudge her chin upward. “Kitten.”

No sound left her mouth.

There were about fifteen different comebacks circling rapidly through her mind, each one more snarky than the next, and she couldn’t get a single one to leave her tongue.

She was too concerned with his hand; callouses on the palm and a faint hint of grease under the nail, as his fingers spread out across her throat, arranging themselves in a cup to take hold of her chin. Each time she tried to look away, to make eye-contact with Jughead (who was struggling violently against the hands holding him back), he would turn her eyes back to his, tutting softly under his breath.

Waiting.

“I…I don’t-“ Her words tapered off, every single excuse she could possibly form, lost in the swirling abyss that were his eyes.

He snickered quietly, bending down from his taller height to brush his lips across her ear, his whisper low enough that only she could hear, and overwhelmingly inviting.

“Looking to take a ride on the wild side, Princess?”

Faelynne squeaked.

All too suddenly, the overly smug Ghoulie soon found himself stumbling backward, just moments after there was an echoing thud and a pained grunt.

Her brother had thrown his elbow into the stomach of the one holding him back, successfully knocking the wind from the boy’s chest and freeing himself. He took a mere two steps with his enraged stride, palms connecting heavily with his enemy’s chest, shoving the older boy back aggressively. Her eyes widened in surprise, her mind whirling as she tried to keep up with each new turn of events, and to douse the sudden heat that had grown to life within the pit of her stomach.

“Keep your fucking hands, off my sister!” Jughead snarled, all traces of her typically levelheaded twin disappeared, leaving only a wrathful, overly protective brother in its wake.

Faelynne grabbed onto his arm, her free hand settling on his stomach, the tension rolling off of him in waves as she whispered to soothe him.

“Jug…Juggie, it’s okay! I’m okay, we’re okay.”

The eldest Jones sibling latched onto his sister while the Ghoulie leader snorted in derision, thumbing over his nose as he backed up a step, holding his hands up in the air, as if to pacify the Serpent Heir. Despite the gesture, his eyes remained glued to the one he had deemed Princess, sweeping over her figure in lazy strokes, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips when they trailed up the length of her thighs. As for the girl, she would swear to her dying day, she could almost feel it.

“Look, why don’t you take your skanks,” He groaned, waving his hand idly over toward Betty and Veronica. “And just get the hell out of here. Until you make me a better offer,” At this, his gaze flicked back toward Faelynne once more, practically leering.

Jughead gripped her hand over his stomach, the hold tight enough that she barely held back the wince.

“There’ll be no race.”

He was already turning away, flashing a wink toward Faelynne, when Jughead suddenly shouted out, the words spilling from his lips before he could stop them.

“If you win-!” He snapped, pushing his sister behind his back as he crossed the space between them. “We’ll give you the Whyte Wyrm-“

In that moment, she thought her heart might stutter to a stop.

Her lips parted and a gasp left her, all as she scrambled to close the space between herself and her twin, grappling with the sleeve of the leather jacket he had earned in an attempt to yank him backwards.

“Jughead, what the fuck are you do-!”

He shook her off, much to the Ghoulie’s amusement and her irritation, continuing with his offer. “You can expand your drug dealing horizons and upgrade out of this literal hellhole.”

Faelynne punched her brother’s arm, her features twisted sharply in an expression of fury and betrayal; that he would even consider giving up their father’s bar, the home turf of the Southside Serpents that had been around before they had even drawn breath, igniting a flame within her blood that was impossible to extinguish.

The Ghoulie’s dark eyes watched her, and for a moment he regretted being clad in nothing but a revealing pair of boxers as such a dark look flashed across her face. It made him hungry, and the only thing he was interested in to satisfy his craving, was her.

“We’ll take The Wyrm,” He agreed abruptly, before his voice dropped in pitch, and he reveled in the way a shudder visibly rippled down her spine, despite her best attempts to mask it. “And Sunnyside Trailer Park.”

“No!”

Her cry echoed off the walls, shrill and pained, like music to his ears. The mere sparks that had reflected in her eyes transformed, turning them into a searing inferno, and he couldn’t think of a better way to burn.

She lunged forward from her place in the redhead’s arms where her brother had passed her off to, her flailing more than he could handle. Her glare burned along his skin as she came charging forward, and he actually braced himself, preparing to find himself with an armful of utterly enraged female. Instead, she whipped herself between both him and her brother, placing her palms flat against Jughead’s chest, peering up at him with pleading eyes.

They just couldn’t take a chance on losing Sunnyside.

Not only was it their childhood home, as tough as it had sometimes been, there were still beautiful memories there; but it was the only place for some of the residents to live. Things were rough on the Southside, and the trailer park was home to more than one struggling family, some Serpents and some not. Either way, it was a haven compared to the streets, and she refused to part with it. She would not let her father come home to nothing.

“Jug, please!” She begged, her voice taking on a soft, almost heartbreaking tone. “We can’t, we can’t risk this!”

Her brother wouldn’t even look at her, his eyes squeezing shut for a breath in time. It felt like hours to her. But when he blinked his eyes back open, they were filled with a grim resignation and a flare of determination.

And he nodded.

“Fuckin’ great!” The Ghoulie’s leader clapped, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “There’s just one more thing…”

#riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale smut #riverdale one shot #riverdale malachai #malachai riverdale #malachai #malachai x reader #malachai smut #ghoulies #ghoulie x reader #southside high #southside #malachai x oc #malachai x jughead sister

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deliverydefresas · 7 years ago

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we talk for hours and hours about the sweet and the sour

yes, hi, this is still a mess. I do hope you continue to like it tho xD

Part 1, Part 2

au: famous!simón meets college!ámbar

She slapped him.

Not strong enough to leave a mark of her hand, but enough to feel the slight sting of the hit. Her face after she realized what she’d done, was so hilarious, he ended up laughing instead of being mad, or offended. Ámbar apologized – albeit, she didn’t sound that sorry, at all- and he’d waved it off, telling her not to worry about it. It had been his fault, after all; he was the one who had entered her personal bubble without warning, and made her react in the first place.

After he’d reassured her he wouldn’t sue her, or hold it against her in anyway, they’d resume with the interview. Simón told her all about their journey to get a label, the struggle it was for the three of them to live in a loft and obey all of Nico’s uncle’s demands to let them stay there, the process of songwriting and song-picking for each album. He told her what his favorite song was (Valiente), his favorite to write (Alzo Mi Bandera) and the one that left him bittersweet (Eres); he also talked about his family, his experience living in a new country and starting from scratch to pursue a dream he wasn’t one hundred percent he’d reach. She even got him to admit the Rollerband had talked about breaking up back in the olden days, and how he’d thought about going solo for a couple of months. That was the exclusive he’d promised, even if she didn’t know it was.

Simón asked her a bunch of stuff about herself, too. He asked her about her family (only child, her mom and dad never married), her friends (a girl named Emilia was her best friend, and she had the occasional friends from her uni classes), her career (she liked it a lot, was on a scholarship since her mom couldn’t pay her full tuition by herself and her dad had another little kid to worry about; she was aiming to be valedictorian, and wanted to have her own firm) and even managed to get her to admit she was single (her ex was too much like her, and liked his hair more than he liked her in a romantic way, apparently). The thing that had baffled him, offended him, and surprised him the most had been her dislike for pets. She thought they were messy (which they were), and too needy (true) and that their cuteness wasn’t enough reason to keep one (… maybe), and he just couldn’t agree on her on that one.

He loved dogs, he loved the companion they provided, loved how loyal and pure they were to show their love. She’d scrunched her nose at this, but admitted she wouldn’t know since she’d never had one to compare; her building didn’t allow pets, and her mom wasn’t one to take care of one either, so it was only natural for them to own none. Simón expressed he really wanted one, but that his schedule was too unstable to adopt one and give them the love they required. Ámbar had proceed to ask him if his girlfriend wouldn’t be up with adopting one with him, to which he just wiggled his brows at her, not denying, and not confirming.

By the time she felt she’d asked enough, it was a little over 19, and it was darker outside. She picked up her things and put on a sweater while he dropped their little plates on the bar, thanking the barista once again when the guy approached him to take the dishes off his hands. When he was back at the table, Ámbar was ready to go.

He led her to the door, his left hand on the small of her back; as they walked he made sure to look downwards most of the way, careful to not let his face show too much. The coffee shop wasn’t full of people, but there were a couple of teenagers sitting two tables down from them, and another elderly couple by the door; the action was more out of habit than anything else.

Simón opened the door for them, and then his passenger door for her once they were in front of his car. He watched her reaction, curious to know if this surprised her, or impressed her in any way. It didn’t. So, maybe her ex-boyfriend hadn’t been a total ass to her.

“Where to?” he asked as soon as he started the car; she leaned over his GPS to write her address. The little device told him her complex was only twenty-five minutes away from the coffee shop, and a little over ten from his own apartment.

They small talked for a couple minutes, comments about the weather and the traffic being thrown there and there along the way. He suggested she could turn on the radio if she wanted, or connect her phone to his Bluetooth if she preferred; which she agreed on.

He wasn’t surprised when Whitney Houston started playing, but he was surprised when she started singing along, and heard her carrying the tune like a pro.

“You have a pretty voice.” Simón commented, once the last notes of ‘How Will I Know’ stopped. Ámbar merely shrugged it. “Did you take classes, or is it a natural talent?”

“Natural, I guess. Mom sings a lot around the house, it’s a habit I picked on.”

“Well, you’re more than decent at it.” This time, his compliment was met with a smile. After that, she resumed her singing to 80’s songs, he joined occasionally when he knew the lyrics, or wasn’t passing intersections and had to stay alert on the road.

They were five minutes away when the music got interrupted by an incoming call from ‘Silvana ♥’, Ámbar turned to him and asked him if he minded if she answered with the Bluetooth; when he shook his head, she pressed ‘Answer’, and her mom’s voice resonated from the speakers.

“You close, sweetheart? I told you to text me when you were on your way.” Her mom’s voice wasn’t as reprimanding as her words were, but he could hear the worry in it, anyway.

“Yes, mom, I’m only a couple blocks away, now.”

“Did you take a cab? Do you want me to go down and pay for it? I’m still sorry I took your car today, darling.”

Ámbar shook her head, even though her mom couldn’t see her. “It’s okay, mom. Simón offered me a ride, don’t worry, I’ll be there soon.”

There was a pause. “Is he hungry? I made more than enough pasta for the three of us, I’d like to thank him personally for bringing you home.”

“You mean you want to interrogate him and ask him for a picture.” Another pause.

“Maybe.”

Simón chuckled quietly at that. He looked her way for a second, enough to see her rolling her eyes at her mom’s words.

“Mom, it’s almost 20, I’m sure he’s tired and has other things to do than to eat dinner with us-”

“I wouldn’t mind.” He interrupted Ámbar, smiling innocently when she glared at him. Her mom’s squeals met their ears.

“Oh my, am I on speaker?! Why didn’t you tell me, missy?! Simón, darling, you’re more than welcome to come and eat dinner with us! I made this white sauce spaghetti that it’s to die for! I also have some chicken, or I could make you a quick milanesa if you’d like, too!”

“I’d love to, ma’am. Thank you.” He didn’t know it was possible, but Ámbar’s glare intensified.

Silvana chirped her goodbye, excited. “It’s no problem, darling! I’ll see you kids in a bit!”

“Why did you agree?!” Ámbar wasted no time reproaching him as soon as her mom hung up.

“Well first, because your mom sounded so nice I just couldn’t say no.” He shot a quick glance to Ámbar, noticing she wasn’t amused, “secondly, and most important; it’s Nico’s turn to cook tonight. And I would really appreciate if you’d save me from the stomachache or help me save money on take out.”

“Don’t you have more important things to do than to have dinner with a girl and her fanatic mom?”

He pretended to think about it.

“No.”

“Fine. But I’m only agreeing because I know this would make my mom’s week.” Simón whooped beside her, to which she rolled her eyes once more. She looked around, seeing they were already on her street. “Park near the green building.”

He did, turned off the car and got out to join Ámbar, who had opened her own door and was out already. She waited until he’d locked his car to start her way towards the building, looking back at him once to confirm he was following her. She opened the building’s gate, and then led him to the elevator, where she pressed the ‘2’ and Simón guessed (obviously) was her floor.

After the elevator stopped on the floor, Ámbar walked only a couple meters to their left, to a door that read ‘203’; but before she could even put in her key, the door opened and revealed a woman who couldn’t be older than 40. She, like her daughter, had her blonde hair a little under her shoulders, but her color wasn’t as light as Ámbar’s; their faces were slightly similar, but Simón was almost sure Ámbar took more after her dad than she did after her mom.

Silvana’s hazel eyes shined with delight when she saw him. “Simón! It’s so nice to meet you, darling! I’m Silvana, Ámbar’s mom.” Simón offered his hand, which she took excitedly, and pulled him into the apartment.

“Hello to you too, mom.” Ámbar complained from behind them, sounding annoyed at them. Silvana waved her off.

“I see you every day, Bee.”

“I can certainly feel the love tonight. Thanks mom.”

“Stop being so dramatic, Ámbar María.” At this, Simón looked over to her, silent question in his eyes.

“That’s not my middle name.” She denied, and he could see her anointment was turning into lowkey anger. Her left eye was twitching, and her mouth had turned into a scowl, which either her mom ignored, or was so used to it by now that it didn’t faze her at all.

“Did you have fun on your date?” Silvana asked him, leading him to their dining table, where three plates of spaghetti were served already, alongside a simple salad and a few pieces of home-made fried chicken. Simón could hardly help his mouth watering at the sight of food, his two conchas and hot chocolate hadn’t filled him as much as he’d hoped, and he was hungry again.

“Uh, it wasn’t a date, ma’am, but I had a great time.” He corrected as soon as he remembered what she’d asked, his mind too preoccupied with food to care.

Silvana’s cheery face didn’t change at all with his answer, “date, interview; it’s always the same, no?”

He laughed, “if you choose to see it that way.”

Ámbar, who had sat in front of him, rolled her eyes when he agreed with her mom; but chose not to speak her mind. Simón thought she knew how to pick her battles, and not even he could see her winning against her mom tonight.

Both he and Ámbar choked on their spaghetti when Silvana spoke next.

“Do you choose to see it that way?”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t have to, really, since Silvana chose he’d meant a yes.

Ámbar, however, almost threw a fit. Simón could imagine she and her mom would have a very long chat as soon as he was out of the apartment, since he would do the same had it been his mom trying to not-so-subtly to set him up with a girl. Still, neither Silvana or he let the mood go into an awkward place, and he didn’t leave as soon as he’d finished eating.

On the contrary, he stayed there until almost 22, when Pedro had called him to ask if he was still alive and if Ámbar hadn’t kidnaped him yet. Silvana was a good person to chat with, and Ámbar became a lot more open with her mom in the room, so he ended up learning more about her, too.

When his time came, Ámbar accompanied him down to her building’s gate, where waved him off to his car. A part of him was expecting a hug, or even a hand-shake, but then again; it wasn’t a date, and they didn’t like each other that way.

The yet rang in his head very loudly, even to him.

Simón wasn’t surprised when he found both Nico and Pedro waiting for him on the living room; the T.V. on, a sports channel reviewing today’s matches and announcing the next day’s.

“So, how was it, stud?” Nico wondered, moving his eyebrows up and down three times.

“It was great, for an interview and all.”

Pedro’s words were as teasing as they were unbelieving. “An interview that lasted more than five hours?” He could only shrug. “Well, did you at least get it?”

Simón didn’t know what he was referring to, “get what?”

“Your beanie. Did you get it?” His answer got him double the teasing and laughter.

At least now he had another reason to see her.

#simbar #soy luna #ámbar smith #simón álvarez #my sl ff #my simbar ff #soy luna au #not proofread guys do i need to say it at this point xD #sofy

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