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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Text

In which Martin and Gerry help Jon acquire a cat, among other things.

“Martin, look!”

A phone is shoved in his face; on the screen is a tiny black kitten sprawled on a carpet with the headline “Free to a Good Home!!” Martin knows where this is going.

“Finally time to bite the bullet, eh?”

“We could surprise him!” Gerry’s voice is animated as he waves his phone in the air. Martin loves when he gets like this, unguarded and sweet. “You know how stressed he’s been. Honestly, I’m shocked we haven’t gotten one already.”

“Well, he’s certainly been hinting at it.” Martin gestures broadly at the walls of the bookstore, decorated with various cozy knick knacks and art they’ve picked up at charity shops. There’s no less than three oddly majestic cat paintings along with a shelf of tiny porcelain felines, not to mention the gaudy clock that has cat breeds instead of numbers. Jon has...particular taste. “Not very subtle, is he?”

“Should I message them, then?” Gerry squints at the screen. “We met them at trivia a few months ago - Mara, the one with the-”

“Green hair, yeah.” Martin remembers the night rather fondly. Gerry usually spent most trivia nights scowling in the corner and making snarky commentary with Jon, but on that particular occasion he had a few drinks and was considerably more relaxed. He managed to charm half of the bar with his stories and wit while Jon stared on, adoration clear on his face. “But you know Jon would kill us if we didn’t let him have a say. You know how he gets, he needs to prepare-”

“-buy ninety toys-”

“-think up a ridiculous name.” They both laugh at that- Jon’s got a penchant for renaming their friend’s pets when he doesn’t think their moniker “suits them.” He’s gotten into more than one fight about it. “Text him so he doesn’t stay late, though. I’m not staying up until midnight again.”

“On it.”

_______

They hear Jon before they see him.

The door creaks open, alerting them to his presence as Jon lets out his usual long-suffering sigh (Gerry fondly calls this mood ‘The Bouchard Blues.’) His clothes are wrinkled and his eyes are barely open; from the slight indent on his face, Martin reckons he fell asleep at his desk again. Gerry meets him at the door, grabbing his bag and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Rough day, love?”

Another sigh, this one a bit more huffy. “Elias came in at half past four with a box of ninety random documents and wanted them all organized by tomorrow. Impossible, of course, unless I stay the night-”

“But you came home!” Gerry says it with a sort of wonder in his voice; Jon very rarely stands up to his boss, no matter how ridiculous the ask.

“W-Well, you said it was important,” Jon looks between them with large, worried eyes. Always assuming the worst. “It’s nothing bad, is it?”

“Jon, I thought the twelve reassuring texts and afternoon phone call put that to rest,” Gerry replies as he steers them towards the couch. “Suppose I should’ve just told you. I wanted it to be a surprise.” He unlocks his phone and scrolls until he finds the ad, handing it over to Jon.

His eyes immediately light up, alert and awake. “Cat!”

“Cat,” Martin agrees, settling down beside them. “We were thinking of getting one for the bookstore-”

“Of course,” Jon’s smiling that rare, bright grin and Martin melts just a little. “It’s only logical. And I do like black cats-”

“Damn it!” Gerry groans, startling them both. He throws his phone down on the couch, crossing his arms in a sulk. “Someone just claimed her. I knew I should’ve said something-”

But Jon’s already fishing his phone out, his smile not dimming in the slightest. “There’s a shelter not too far from here- I’ll see if we have to make an appointment. Martin, can you call Georgie? She’s got an excellent carrier for the Admiral, and she can probably recommend other necessities-”

They end up going to bed at midnight anyway.

________

“I still don’t see why we had to order so much,” Martin complains after another confirmation email lights up his phone. The credit card bill’s going to be astronomical this month. “Surely we’re overpreparing. We don’t have room for the deluxe cat tower in the shop, and we certainly don’t need one for the flat as well.”

“I assure you these are all necessities, Martin.” Gerry and Martin are both fairly tall, but even they have trouble keeping up with Jon’s brisk pace, sharing a fond look over his head. Jon managed to find them a Saturday appointment with a rather impressive combination of wheedling and charm. When it came to cats, Jon didn’t pull his punches. They made it to the shelter in record time and Jon burst through the doors, his next words full of self-importance. “We’re expected. Jonathan Sims.”

They’re led back to a large room by an amused assistant, Jon at the front of their little line. Martin watches as his eyes light up upon seeing the many cages that lined the wall; even Gerry seems a bit excited, though he tries to hide it by hanging back. Gerry’s never been much of an animal person; he shares Jon’s distaste of loud and jumpy dogs too unpredictable in their behavior. He only just started getting used to the Admiral, and that was through much prodding on Jon’s part. Jon’s love is surprisingly infectious.

Jon peers into each cage intently, answering every inquisitive noise with a prim “Pleased to meet you.” One of the first cages contains a fluffy brown cat with curious eyes and Martin stops to poke a finger through the door. “Walnut” (as provided by a helpful nameplate) does not respond, though she seems interested.

Jon’s already halfway down the row before he stops in his tracks, eyes trained on a large, grumpy ball of gray fur sitting right at the bars of the cage. He’s missing an eye, and he begins to growl as soon as Jon nears him.

“This one.” He declares, staring as if entranced. He hasn’t even touched it or attempted to pet it- they’re locked in some sort of silent standoff. Martin’s reminded of those romantic comedies Jon and Gerry hate, where couples lock eyes across the room and it's love at first sight. He surreptitiously takes a picture. Adorable.

“Jimmy?” The assistant inquires. Jon scoffs at the plainness of the name. “He��s been here awhile. Not very friendly, I’m afraid.”

“No, not Jimmy.” Jon offers up a hand, and the cat comes closer, sniffing at it with suspicion. After a few moments, he butts his head against Jon’s hand, earning a smile. “Lance Corporal.”

“No.”

Jon swivels around, eyes narrowing at Gerry’s words. It’s the first time he’s spoken and he’s got one eyebrow quirked up in amusement. It’s a good look on him. Jon, however, is having none of it and he puts a hand to his hip. “And why not?”

“It’s such a mouthful.” Martin has to agree; it doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. “I’m not going to call him that. What about Lance?”

Jon wrinkles his nose. “Ew.”

Martin sighs; Gerry and Jon get along like a house on fire but when they bicker, they bicker. He eyes the cat that’s now rubbing against Jon’s hand and purring; he hopes the its sudden geniality will extend to Martin and Gerry. Jon would pick a cat that’s just as prickly as he can be.

Martin gives it a good look, coming up beside Jon at ‘Jimmy’s’ cage. The cat immediately stops its gravely purr, it’s eye now trained on Martin. It’s unnerving, Martin never thought a cat could radiate authority but this one surely managed to. If any animal deserves a title, it’s this one. “What about the Captain?” he asks in a fit of inspiration.

They both turn to look at him; Gerry amused, Jon thoughtful. “Go on.”

“It’s a title, you always liked the naval ones.” Jon nods in agreement, the beginnings of a smile on his face. “He looks like an old sailor, very distinguished. I dunno, I think it’s cute.”

“The Captain,” Jon whispers in awe as the cat resumes rubbing against his hand. “Martin, that’s perfect. Inspired, even.”

He can’t help preening a bit. “Thank you.” Gerry rolls his eyes.

And then there’s the moment of truth- the assistant opens the cage door and Jon steps forward with all the solemnity of a man about to be knighted. He reaches out his arms and the cat lets itself be picked up, going limp as Jon brings it to his chest. He sighs in contentment, giving himself one more moment of bliss before he perks up and opens his eyes.

“Now pick yours.”

_________

Three. They’ve got three fucking cats.

Martin and Gerry immediately began to refuse, but Jon was insistent. “The Captain is obviously very partial to me, and I think you should have some say in who we adopt. If we each get one it eliminates any favoritism. It’s only logical.”

There was nothing logical about it. Three cats and three people in their tiny flat, or worse, destroying their bookstore. They didn’t have the space, the cats might not get along, it would be too expensive. But Jon wouldn’t hear of it, countering every point in a calmness that was borderline unnerving. Martin shot Gerry a pleading look; he’d gone silent after the initial refusal, content to let Martin do most of the arguing, but he just shook his head in amusement- he knew how this would end, and Martin did too. As the final nail in the coffin, Jon deployed the eyes and that’s how he found himself in the front of a taxi with a lapful of Walnut. She’s a friendly thing, instantly purring on contact and meowing whenever he turned away. Martin hadn’t the heart to turn it away.

Gerry took more time. He slunk around the cages and the cats seemed to sense his reluctance. But soon he came upon a small, sleek black cat, not unlike the one from the Facebook post. It was a tentative thing, barely coming to the edge of its cage to sniff at his fingers, but Gerry was determined, patiently waiting the fifteen minutes it took to get him to warm up. Martin didn’t point out the similarities between it and a certain goth, though he shared a knowing look with Jon.

“I’ve got it - the Unfathomable Void.”

“Dear God,” Martin muttered, rolling his eyes. So dramatic, the both of them.

Jon snorted. “That’s a bit much.”

“Okay, Lance Corporal.”

“Excuse me-!”

“Settle down, boys,” Martin put a hand on Jon’s shoulder, he looked liable to pounce. “If that’s what you want, go for it. But we’ll call him Void for short.” Gerry nodded, seemingly satisfied. Jon continued to scowl, though without any heat.

The cabbie was definitely not pleased at having to cart around three men and three cats. He muttered the entire drive while Jon bounced in the backseat, cooing at his companion. Gerry sat much more stoically, though Martin didn’t miss the tiny smile as the cat nipped at his fingers. Jon’s insistence on multiple supplies was starting to make sense now. He definitely planned this from the beginning, sneaky thing.

“Oh no,” Jon suddenly said upon entering their flat, struggling with the carrier in his hand. Martin’s starting to think he shouldn’t have picked such a massive cat. “I forgot this was for the bookstore!”

“Well, yeah.” Gerry sat his cage on the ground, kneeling down beside it. “I figured mine or Martin’s would do. The Captain’s not very friendly, Jon.”

“But what if they get lonely? We can’t split them up.” Jon’s eyes dart around the room, growing more conflicted by the second. “Perhaps we should keep them all at home.”

“There’s no room, Jon! And no one’s here during the day.” Martin surveys the room- the three carriers already seem to take up an enormous amount of space, not to mention the living creatures inside of them. And all of those packages, that damn tower…

“You can take them back and forth. Commute.”

“Christ, we did not think this through.” Gerry’s smiling even as he says it, watching as the Unfathomable Void slowly makes his way out, sniffing tentatively at the air. Walnut’s content to stay in her cage, and Martin tucks her in a corner away from the other two. Jon’s already got the Captain out, holding him in his arms and refusing to let him go.

“You’re right, we didn’t.” Jon agrees, tucking his face in the Captain’s fur. “We should’ve gotten four-”

“Fuck’s sake, Jon!”

“Let’s talk about this later, alright?” Gerry takes Martin’s place as the voice of reason, a rare occurrence. “We’ll keep them at home, let them get used to us, and then we’ll figure out the bookstore situation. No sense getting worked up about it now.” Jon sighs, cradling the mass of fur to his chest and plopping down on the couch. Martin’s sure they’ll be at it again tomorrow; Jon sniping as Martin tries and fails to put together a massive cat tower, Gerry groaning about whatever surprises the cats left for them in the morning. The next few weeks were going to be stressful, to say the least.

For now, though, he sits with his partners once again until midnight, watching their new additions roam about the flat and ignore each other. Jon frets, Gerry sighs, and Martin unsuccessfully attempts to steer the conversation towards anything but cats. By the end of the night, only Void manages to feel at home, curling up in Martin’s favorite armchair (much to his chagrin). Could’ve gone worse, Martin cheers himself with. They’ll get used to the flat. And the bookstore. Probably.

Later that night, once their partner’s asleep and snoring softly between the two of them, Martin turns to Gerry, borrowing Jon’s patented sigh.

“We’re gonna get a fourth cat, aren’t we?”

Gerry’s voice is just as resigned. “Yeah, reckon so.”

“Christ.”

-------

Others in the JGM series:

What We’re Given and What We Make

At the End of the Day

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945809

#my writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #jonmartin #jongerry #gerrymartin #christ this is a lot of tags #pointless fluff honestly #but fun #when i picture jon's smile in this fic its messisauce's art tbh #you know the one

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fallen-in-dreams · 3 years

Text

Rumours

Also on AO3. Pairing: Gaara/Sakura. Summary: Sakura overhears a spicy rumour about her relationship with Gaara and their friendship will never be the same again. GaaSaku. Canonish. Prompt: Week 1: Dating. Rated: T. Words: 4,433. Status: Complete.

Author note: My first of the weekly prompts for the tumblr GaaSaku Events. *Cross your fingers that I can do all of the ones I'm trying to finish.* Enjoy. ^_^

Warnings/tags: Just some mild angst and mentions of ShikaTema.

This is for the 2021 GaaSaku Event @gaasaku-fanfests. I seem to be posting for events late or barely on time this year. Sorry. :)

.:.

“Sometimes your heart sees what your eyes can’t.”

It was supposed to be just another harmless outing. Sakura often took Gaara with her when she went shopping for presents. He was so hopeless at remembering birthdays and holidays like Christmas that she was doing him a favour by dragging him around with her.

And picking out gifts from both of them.

She hadn’t really thought there was anything wrong with that. Or that anyone would read more into it than it really was. Of course, the Kazekage spending time with a foreign kunoichi would get everyone’s attention, but like all exciting new things it would get old, and they’d soon move onto other things.

This was why, all these months on from their first public shopping outing, Sakura was still brushing off the curious glances as she pulled Gaara along, by the sleeve of his work robes. Twelve months she’d been in Suna. Six were spent aiding in a joint training of medical personnel as a part of a healing exchange program to further relations, and then eight weeks as the head of the hospital because Gaara was adamant nobody was doing it better. The last four months had been her lazy months, which consisted of her usual physical training regimen but also acting like a tourist and dragging Gaara along for the ride. So just what she’d been doing before, minus the teaching and hospital visits. Sakura had already achieved what she’d set out to do in this mission, but it hadn’t even crossed her mind to cut her time here short.

And she was finally used to being a constant source of scrutiny for the people of Wind. So here she was, for the second time this week, dragging Gaara out of his office on the rare occasion that he didn’t have either a shit load of paperwork or overdue training of his own to do.

The retailer looked up at them as they stepped into her shop, then smiled and bowed lightly.

“Welcome, Lord Kazekage. Haruno-san.”

“Kitana-san,” Sakura addressed her quickly before tugging on Gaara. He obediently followed and as usual, she did not notice the knowing smile of the elderly woman as she led the redhead around. Her eyes perused the rows of trinkets instead. They were supposed to be getting an engagement present for Temari and Shikamaru. It had been three weeks since the date for their party had been announced and nothing seemed to be good enough.

“Maybe we should get them each a present,” she thought out loud. “What do you think, Gaara?”

His eyes widened slightly. “One from each of us?”

“No, I mean one each from both of us.” He still looked confused. “A total of two presents,” she added, and he nodded. She didn’t remark on how he had stiffened and then relaxed at her words. Gaara was just weird like that.

“Ino got them a weird sex toy,” she said, rubbing her cheek with her finger as Gaara’s face turned pink. “Uh, and I think Hinata said she wanted to get her some wind scrolls.” Her friends’ letters had been all over the place. Everyone was excited that Temari and Shikamaru had finally gotten official and were moving their relationship forward.

“I…uh.” He crossed his arms over his chest, which was actually more of a nervous habit for him these days. “Well… we can do better.”

She giggled and locked arms with him. “Of course. I was thinking,” she said as they moved through the shop slowly. “Temari’s always gotta pretend to be this tough, warrior woman. But I’ve smelled the candles coming from her room. I was thinking of bath salts, but it isn’t a good gift for Shikamaru. But that was before this whole individual gift idea.”

Gaara thought that Shikamaru could use a decent salt bath. They could use it together. The idea of it made him blush and he pointedly avoided eye contact with Sakura as she babbled on about clothes accessories. Apparently, Shikamaru had once confessed to her that he thought belts were interesting.

“Maybe bath salts and candles.” Gaara said, interrupted her gushing about the embroidery on a handmade belt. “His & Hers style.”

Sakura squeezed his arm affectionately. “Brilliant idea.”

She pulled him along gently, not needing to tug too hard because he was fine with following her lead. This shop was mostly popular among young women and older couples. Their wares ranged from scented candles to antique dolls and handmade clothes.

“What do you think about this one?” Sakura asked, taking a strange bust off a shelf. Maybe his mind just went to stationery too quickly, but it just looked like an oversized paper weight to him.

“No good?” She asked when Gaara didn’t respond. He sighed and she tossed it aside. “Okay, next odd little smelly thing.”

He let out a light chuckle at that. Gaara pointed out a few more ideas and they half-heartedly argued over them. They picked up a few bath salts anyway, since Sakura was interested in some for herself, before leaving the story without a present for his sister and future brother-in-law.

“We’ll just have to keep looking,” Sakura said, nodding to herself as they made their way through the crowds of the downtown market. She was oblivious to the interested stares and giggling children.

Truth be told, Gaara was fine with letting Sakura make the decision for him. He hadn’t had to worry about choosing gifts for almost a year and he was happy with that. Growing up with no childhood had ensured he had little experience in the matter, but she was a good teacher when it came to social situations.

They agreed their last chance for a good gift would be the ninja resource store on the edge of the market. Such a place would normally not be in the civilian district, but the proprietors were very good at preventing civilians from buying shinobi utensils. Gaara bought an ornate spear from them two years ago that had been imported from the Land of Iron. He’d started collecting special weapons and suggested to Sakura that they have something ordered in.

It would solve the problem and save time. Not that he wasn’t enjoying himself. Gaara looked forward to these outings more than he was willing to admit out loud.

“Geez.” She hip-butted him. “You’re full of great suggestions today.”

Sakura watched as he blushed and mumbled about looking for something for himself in the shop and as he wandered away, this gave her the perfect time to sneak away. She knew full well he was collecting unique weapons and had one in mind for him. It wasn’t a gift for any special occasion, and she didn’t bother guying things for his siblings unless it was for something in particular, but Sakura couldn’t help herself with Gaara. Her friendship with him was on another level compared with Kankuro and Temari.

When it came to birthdays, Christmas, or just her wanting him to have something special, she’d long ago stopped agonising over the “what does one even buy a kage who doesn’t seem to want anything?” question. Personal gifts that showed she knew him were always well-received. He still had the katana shaped candlestick ornament that she’d bought him for his birthday, sitting in his study. Temari said he never lit it up, which to anyone who knew him, meant he loved it. It would never get used and therefore last.

Sakura kept one eye on where Gaara was in the shop at all times, and the other on the aisle of antique weapons as she perused. That was how she ended up standing in an aisle listening to two gossiping kunoichi. She’d just been minding her own business, looking over a row of ornamental kunai, when the voices carried over to her from the other side of the shelf she was leaning toward.

When she heard her own name being uttered, Sakura peered through the gaps in the shelf. They were a couple of chunin and either had below average sensory skills and didn’t notice her or didn’t care that she was eavesdropping. Sakura didn’t recognise them, so they definitely weren’t a part of the medical units she’d trained, nor did they frequent the hospital. They were also both staring off in the direction that Sakura knew Gaara to be.

The blonde giggled. "Lord Kazekage dotes on Sakura-san, it’s so cute! They just have to be dating!"

The brunette nodded. “Of course. But why haven’t they announced it?”

“Because they’re shy, silly.”

“Yeah right.”

“I’m serious. Minamo said everyone’s talking about it.”

“He’s probably still innocent I bet.”

Sakura rolled her eyes. It was so weird to hear people claiming she had a romantic relationship with Gaara while discussing whether or not he had sexual experience. But it was just a couple of awe struck chunin (and the claim of some random friend of theirs). She decided to turn away but stilled at the next line out of the blonde’s mouth.

“Maybe Sakura-san took his v-card,” the girl snickered, much to the appreciation of the other chunin. “Can you just imagine?”

Sakura flushed from head to toe, struggling to hold her composure. She didn’t want to imagine that. Her heart might just explode. Sure, Gaara was… attractive. But would she have sex with him? He was her friend. They’d never been anything other than friends.

Not that I would want more, she told herself, holding a hand to her chest.

“I bet he’d be a tender lover,” the other girl said, sighing deeply. “Haruno-san is so lucky.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the blonde said, a devious look on her face. “I think Lord Gaara’s hit the jackpot too. Sakura-san has all that medical knowledge about the body. Imagine what she could do with it.”

“Like what?”

“Get his blood pumping. Warm him up. You know,” the blonde waggled her eyebrows and they both giggled. “She’d have him hard in no time!”

They giggled again and the brunette snorted before covering her mouth, mortified at herself.

Sakura stood there like a stunned mullet as they turned away from watching Gaara and started giggling and whispering among themselves. What the hell had she just heard?

“Sakura.”

She spun on the spot, startled. She hadn’t noticed his approaching chakra, engrossed in the conversation she was overhearing. Sakura turned beet red. He looked concerned when she opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. When he made to move toward her, Sakura went into panic mode, charging at him and grabbing his arm. She ushered Gaara away, hoping he hadn’t heard any of that conversation. Knowing him, he wouldn’t even realise what they were talking about.

Gaara leaned in to whisper in her ear, “I found something special for you” and Sakura let out an involuntary sound she’d never heard before.

“Are you okay?”

Am I okay?

Two random chunin had just inserted mental images of her having sex with Gaara into her head. She was not okay. But she nodded anyway, not wanting to explain why her heart was now thumping. Blood rushing to her head. His hand fell to the small of her back. The warmth of his touch had never been more prominent than it was right now as he added a slight pressure to steer her toward the front counter. He wasn’t pushing her. Gaara never pushed her. He was always kind to her. It was so stimulating when he did that.

Feelings she’d kept buried for almost twelve months started bubbling to the surface and Sakura wasn’t prepared for the onslaught. How could she have forgotten this? Suddenly, she remembered the first time his touch had affected her. They’d known each other for years and two weeks into her long-term mission to Suna, she’d been lonely and exhausted when quite suddenly, Sakura realised those warm and fuzzies she’d been feeling were directed at a certain Kazekage. Her twenty-first birthday had come and gone, and she didn’t have any life goals other than revolutionising the medical world. It was a great goal. Professionally.

But after an innocent comment from Hinata about her love life, her birthday had gone from celebrations of “I have my whole life ahead of me” to morose “I’m going to die alone” thoughts, which were reflected in her spending the rest of the night drunk and being shadowed by Ino who was worried she might bring down a building or two, in her destructive angst.

Gaara continued to watch her as she worked through her mental problems but said nothing. He didn’t need to tell her he was concerned. It was written all over his face. It was just another thing she loved about him.

“Let me take you home,” he said. That deep voice of his made her shiver. Sakura felt her body flush again when she heard giggling behind her. (Were those girls following them now?) There was no way they hadn’t heard that.

After a few moments, he started rubbing her back in what he obviously thought was a soothing manner and she blinked heavily at him. Right. She needed to get out of here.

She cleared her throat. “Sure,” she said, her voice a little strained. Out of habit, she wrapped her arm around his. He was a lifeline as she tried to sort out her dysfunctional thoughts. The chunin girls’ conversation had opened a can of worms and she didn’t know how to put them back in.

Sakura glanced backwards in time to catch the women whispering behind their hands and staring at her and Gaara unabashedly. When had her outings with Gaara started such salacious rumours?

And more importantly: why did these people think they were dating?

.:.

“Gimme a screaming orgasm!”

Kankuro took the seat next to Sakura as she made her order to the bartender and chuckled.

“You might want to tone that drink down a little,” Kankuro said with a wink. “Gaara might get jealous.”

“Ugh!” Sakura groaned. “Not you too!”

“Whatever do you mean?”

She pointed a finger at him. “You all are talking about me behind my back. Starting rumours and talking about my sex.”

Kankuro snorted. “Your what?”

“I’m a joke, Kankuro-chan.”

“Please don’t call me that.” He grimaced.

She sighed. “What are you doing here?”

Kankuro waved a hand at the bartender. “Another screaming orgasm, please.”

Sakura snorted. “You’re getting more than I am, then.”

He chuckled. “Never delved into the local cuisine since you got here?”

Well, there was this one guy she danced and flirted with the first weekend after she started this mission, but her burgeoning feelings for the Kazekage wouldn’t let her do anything more. She wasn’t a slut and she appreciated that Gaara wasn’t one of those guys that slept around and used their testosterone to excuse it, either. So, she’d been able to settle into routine with him. Friends who gravitated toward each other. Friends who had dinner with each other (alone) quite often. Friends who decided important decisions together instead of alone. Friends who rarely had eyes for anyone else. Friends who didn’t have lives outside of each other...

She groaned and dropped her head on the bar. The awareness of her situation was painful. She wished she could go back to being oblivious. Because it was clear now that Sakura had been accidentally dating Gaara for almost twelve months. Did he know? Or was he as oblivious as her? Everyone had noticed apparently, according to two chunin and their friend. Did Kankuro and Temari know.

“I’m secretly but not secretly dating Gaara,” she mumbled. “And I didn’t know.”

Apparently, even though her face was pressed into the bar, Kankuro had heard her.

“I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret.”

Sakura groaned again. “We’re not dating!”

“Uh-huh.” He clearly didn’t believe her. “Going back and forth then. You’re in denial.”

“Why are you here?” He didn’t respond and Sakura lifted her head up slowly. “Kankuro?”

“He’s lonely,” he said, staring into his drink thoughtfully. “I know everyone thinks Gaara’s put together and doesn’t need anything more in life than family and friends. But I know that under that oblivious and calm exterior that he’s a romantic at heart. He wants what you two have. But he just doesn’t know how to go about getting it.”

She frowned at him. His seriousness was giving her a bad feeling. Everything had come together so quickly, and she wasn’t even sure what to do with her feelings yet, let alone whatever Gaara might be feeling.

“He’s a bit clueless.”

That was an understatement. Sakura used to think he wasn’t clueless, since he often said things with such confidence that she believed he was more aware than he let on. But then moments like that day in the shop with the chunin girls and Gaara seemed completely oblivious to what was going on. She had no idea what to think of him anymore.

It was why she’d been ignoring him. She couldn’t handle the idea that he might actually return her feelings. She was a coward.

Kankuro put his drink down and patted her on the back. “Just… don’t hurt him, okay?”

Right. Easier said than done.

.:.

There were many things Gaara was good at. And so many things he sucked at.

He was proficient with multiple types of weapons and political nuances. But in matters of the heart, he found that he still hadn’t learned anything. He had no idea why Sakura was avoiding him and why his siblings were being more careful about how they talk to him. It felt like it had been back when he housed Shukaku and went on rampages.

The knock on his door startled him and Gaara debated ignoring that chakra signature out of spite but gave in and called her in.

“Gaara?”

He looked up and the slight drop in her smile told him that she’d seen the hurt in his eyes. She’d been avoiding him, and they both knew it.

“I need to tell you something.”

Gaara swallowed heavily and braced himself. Her contract in Suna had only a few weeks left but since the particulars of the mission had already been fulfilled, she was free to leave at any time, if she wanted to. This made his hear race. More than anything he didn’t want her to go. He enjoyed her company and valued her friendship. What he truly wanted from her was more than that and it had taken him months of going along with her intrusion into his life for him to realise what that “more than that” meant for him.

Gaara wanted to date her. He wanted to be doing all the things with her that Temari did with Shikamaru and that Kankuro was currently trying to do with Matsuri. And for that to happen, she had to stay in Suna.

Temari and Shikamaru are dating and he’s still living in Konoha, he begrudgingly reminded himself.

But he didn’t care.

Gaara sat back in his office chair as Sakura closed the door behind herself and shuffled her feet, twiddling her thumbs. She was nervous. And worried about his reaction. He attempted to smile and shift his body language to put her at ease. It seemed to work and before he knew it, she was approaching him with a sad smile and sitting down across the table from him.

“Gaara…”

“Does this have something to do with why you’ve been avoiding me?”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. “I, uh… found out something. And kind of overreacted to it, got drunk, and took it out on Kankuro.”

Gaara couldn’t help the snort that accompanied a chuckle. “Story of my life.”

She smiled a little wider now. “It does seem easy to do that.”

“Did you hit him?”

“A little. In the training grounds,” she added quickly. “He’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

She went back to twiddling her thumbs.

“You wanted to tell me something.”

Sakura nodded. “There’s no easy way to say this so I’ll just come right out and say it. The whole village thinks we’re dating.” She paused to see his reaction, but he just stared, stone faced at her. “And uh… we kind of have been.”

“All the outings and joint gift giving.” Not to mention how he treated her so preciously in public.

Sakura frowned. There was no question in his voice, just his usual factual tone. He wasn’t surprised. “You knew?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“Why… why didn’t you say anything?”

He blinked heavily and lowered his gaze to the table. Parchments were lined neatly across it as he rarely let them fall out of place. The only matter in his life that Gaara let get messy were his relationships. They were inherently messy, so he had no problem dealing with them as such. Which was why he was so anal about everything else.

“Gaara?”

Gaara didn't seem to want to explain himself.

He didn’t want to deny or confirm that he may or may not be dating the Fifth Hokage's protégé, to the public. He let the rumours spread and did nothing to quell them. Gaara had even played up to them which he’d known was wrong but couldn’t help himself. There was no way that admitting this to Sakura would go well for him. Perhaps he could inform her over time, but right now the realisation of what had been going on was too raw for her.

And she could see his hesitation for what it was. Avoidance of setting the record straight. Sakura frowned. Was it because of appearances? Or something more personal? It could be embarrassment. She knew he’d grown up with little human contact, none of which would’ve prepared him for adult relationships. It left him in the lurch for so many important social interactions.

But why wouldn’t he want to fix this? It would look bad for the village if the Kazekage was pretending to date someone. Especially since she was going home in a few weeks. Her heart clenched at that, and she had to close her eyes to stop herself from losing control. Sakura had only just allowed herself to remember and acknowledge that she’d developed feelings for Gaara months ago, she didn’t want to break down in front of him now.

Why didn’t he tell me?

What was he playing at?

Maybe it was because he liked her? Sakura felt her skin flush at that. No. It was probably pride or indolence. Likely, he didn’t fully understand the ramifications.

“He’s a bit clueless.”

Had Kankuro meant that romantically? Or sexually? Or perhaps socially? She bit her bottom lip as Gaara turned his head away. The skin along his neck was tinged pink and his face looked slightly flushed.

All of the above, then.

Maybe he really was too embarrassed to push back at the rumours. Gossip was a poison though. In order to successfully rebuke it, you had to do so fast. And with the truth, not silence or denial on their own. Sakura knew this from experience back when she was still listening to Ino’s ramblings about Sasuke. This rumour had run its full course and nothing short of a very public breakup would get them out of it.

“Is it…” he started slowly, breaking her out of her thoughts. Gaara looked up to catch her gaze. “Is it really so bad?”

Is the idea of us really so horrible?

She heard that unsaid question loud and clear.

Sakura stood up and circled the table to stand in front of him as he swivelled on his chair to face her. “No.”

Gaara smiled. But it didn’t reach his eyes.

“You want this?” She asked.

This was the moment of truth. He could lie and revert their relationship to the way it was before, except with them being more conscious about not appearing to be a couple. Or he could take a hold of her and ask for the one thing that had been plaguing him for months. He swallowed heavily and she watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. Was it weird to be turned on by that?

“Yes,” he said huskily.

Desperately, yes.

She didn’t react for a moment, just scanning his face. He held his breath, waiting. Then Sakura leant forward, closing her eyes as his widened. But he didn’t pull away as she pressed her lips to his gently. His hands went to her hips as she rested hers on the arms of his chair, caging him in.

Gaara deepened the kiss, making her gasp and then plundered her mouth. He’d never done this before, that much was obvious to her. So, she took control, slowing their pace and sucking on his lips gently when he tried to hasten her. Sakura fell into his lap, her hands tugging at his hair as he wrapped his arms around her waist. As she straddled him, she lost herself to the feel of his body beneath hers and Sakura moaned.

The sound broke their reverie and the Kazekage bit her lip. Without pulling out of their kiss, he sent his sand out to lock the door and knocked everything from his desk with no concern for their wellbeing. Fuck caring about that right now.

Sakura grinned into their kiss as he pushed her back onto the table. This had been the right choice after all.

.:.

Sometime later, Sakura emerged from the Kazekage's office to find his siblings nearby, like they’d been waiting to find out the result of her talk with Gaara. She knew she needed to reprimand them, but she was too happy right now to care.

Kankuro raised an eyebrow at her. She looked dishevelled. Like someone had snogged the crap out of her. He fought to keep himself from grinning like an idiot.

“Sakura?”

She cleared her throat and stared down at him. “You’ll be interested to know that Gaara is no longer clueless.”

Temari groaned as the Leaf kunoichi sauntered out of hallway. Kankuro waited until Sakura was out of earshot and gave his sister a shit eating grin then stuck his hand out expectantly.

“I won,” he said.

She scoffed. “No, you didn’t.”

“Hey! I said they’d end up dating!”

Temari shook her head and took a sip of her drink to hide her smirk, then said, “you said they’d sleep together within an hour of resolving this. They clearly just made out.”

“Temari!” Kankuro pouted.

“Not paying up,” she sung, before following Sakura’s lead and sauntering off.

He huffed. Siblings were evil.

.:.

#GaaSaku #gaasaku-fanfests #2021 GaaSaku Events #Dating #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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katehuntington · 3 years

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Title: Ride With Me (part 25) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±6900 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part 25: Y/N and Dean struggle with the aftermath of their split. Working together proves to be difficult, but other relationships within the ranch family took a hit as well. When the cowboy thinks the day can’t get much worse, complications arise, forcing him to make yet another difficult decision. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak, slowburn. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: (opening scene) The Eye - Brandi Carlile. (Ride with Meadow scene) Home - Hans Zimmer. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Beta’d by my mom (yes, you read that right. My mom reads my stuff and is on Tumblr). Thank you, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish, @kittenofdoomage, @manawhaat, @waywardbeanie, @atc74, and @winchest09 for helping me with this story. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand.

Ride With Me Masterlist

With frustrated motions, Y/N stuffs her clothes into a bag, not even bothered to sort the items out. Her cheeks are tear-stained once again and she wipes at them angrily. Stop crying, it won’t get you anywhere, she scolds herself, done with feeling this emotional. After all, today is Monday, just another day at the ranch, and they have a lot of work to do. Garth and Ellen did the necessary stable work, but the horses which are usually trained by Jo, Dean, and herself had three days off while their riders were in Flagstaff.

Dean. Just the name reverberating in her head forces her to pause her actions. She dips her chin, closes her eyes, and takes a breath. Why? That’s the question she keeps asking herself. Why did he break up with her? Why did he pretend to care, only to hurt her the way he did? Why has he become so bitter, so selfish, so unlike the man she thought he was?

The questions remain unanswered, and she doesn’t expect they will give her any consolation either. That was the whole issue to begin with, wasn’t it? He can’t be honest. Apparently, he doesn’t think she’s capable of bearing the load he is meant to share with his partner. Apparently, she’s not good enough. Just like she didn’t meet her first boyfriend’s standards, who got tired of her spending more time with her horses than with him. Her second relationship ended in a fiasco as well, this time it was his jealousy of her success that caused the split. Yesterday proved that the third time clearly isn’t a charm. But neither of her previous significant others ever caused a cataclysm as the one Dean has left behind. Her heart is a wasteland now.

“Are you leaving?” She’s pulled away from her thoughts by Jo’s voice, her tone matching the horrified expression on her face. She stands in the doorway, looking down at the open suitcase on the floor and the unzipped bag. All of a sudden, Y/N realizes what the scene must look like. “No. I’m just sorting out my washing,” she says quickly. “Oh…” the blonde cowgirl sighs, relieved. “For a second there I thought--” “I won’t let your scumbag cousin chase me away, Jo,” her friend assures her.

Truth be told, though, she has been thinking about it. Last night she had typed down her information on a booking website, ready to confirm her flight back to Freeport, but as her finger hovered over the ‘confirm’ button, she closed the tab and slammed her laptop closed. The intern came here on a mission. She is going to prove to her parents and to herself that she has what it takes to run her own ranch and that she deserves that business loan. She is not going to abort just because her heart is broken, come hell or high water.

“Well, good. I would have roped you like a cow and tied you to the saddle anyway,” Jo scoffs, leaning against the doorframe.

The cowgirl chuckles as she collects the last of her dirty laundry, zips up the bag, and puts it on the bed. The sight of the not-particularly comfortable mattress has her wishing she could crawl back under the covers and get some much-needed sleep. That’s not an option, however, and so she takes her hat from the corner bedpost and places it on her head. Before she goes out, she quickly checks her makeup in the mirror, but thankfully her tears haven’t smudged her waterproof eyeliner and mascara, and her foundation is still covering the bags under her eyes. It’s been a while since she hid behind the beauty-products, but the confidence Dean gave her has disappeared the second he ended their relationship, so she put her mask back on. There is no way she will give her ex-boyfriend the satisfaction of witnessing just how broken she is.

Y/N inhales deeply and squares her shoulders, lifting her chin as she stares at her reflection. The woman who looks back at her is fierce and resilient; the complete opposite of the little girl that’s hiding inside. Of course, she doesn’t want to face the day nor the man who hurt her, but she is left with no choice. There is so much more at stake here; her future, her career. This is business, and she will treat it as such. Y/N glances at Jo, giving her a nod, and her friend smiles faintly doing the same.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Dean pours himself his third cup of coffee. Saying that he had a rough night, is putting it mildly. The first digit of his alarm clock had already changed into a ‘2’ when he finally drifted off, only to jolt awake an hour and a half later, his bedsheets clinging to his sweat-covered skin. For the first time in years, a nightmare has caused havoc, images of his worst memories coming through cracks in the walls he built around all that childhood trauma. After freshening up, he laid in bed again while last night’s events alternated with those same disturbing scenes he saw in his dreams, the sad motion picture of sorrow and heartbreak projected on the ceiling. He gave up on sleeping around four-thirty in the morning, got dressed, and sat out on the porch until the sun came up. But no matter how hard he focused on the sounds of the night that tried to soothe him, he couldn't get her out of his mind. The pain laced in her desperate voice, the tears that fell because of him. But after those hurtful images, he also remembers that bright smile, her giggles, the sparkle in her eyes when she has achieved something. Her tenderness, her touch… It hasn’t even been twelve hours and he’s already craving Y/N, fighting an addiction for a drug he can never have again. The girl who is no longer his Yankee.

A door squeaks and Dean glances aside, immediately redirecting his gaze back to the coffee mug on the small kitchen counter when Y/N comes into view, followed suit by Jo. Instantly, the tension in the living room shoots through the roof, the crooked, little bunkhouse barely able to maintain the strain. He doesn’t say anything, but thankfully Garth and Benny do exchange a ‘good morning’ with the girls, the silence interrupted by the casual exchange.

He spots her perfectly applied makeup, her hair tied back in a tight ponytail that doesn’t allow a single strand to escape the rubber band. Her shirt is neatly tucked into her jeans, ironed and spotless, just like the day when she arrived at the ranch. Even though she looks breathtaking, the vision saddens him; she’s back to being the woman who needs to have everything under control. He gets it, though, because when she took his advice to loosen up, she let her guard down. If she had kept both hands on the reins, Y/N would have never allowed him to get so close and comfortable. Dean only made things worse for her, and now she was left to pick up the pieces of all that he broke.

Without saying a word, he grabs his coffee and pushes the door handle down to make his exit, not wanting to make her life more difficult than he already has.

Ultimately, this Monday was bound to get worse with every passing minute. Dean decided to get an early start before breakfast and got on the tractor, but when the ranch hand tried to back up in order to drag the arena, he couldn't get the old John Deere into reverse. A glance underneath soon determined why and he exclaimed a loud ‘fuck!’ when he detected the puddle of gearbox-oil on the dusty ground. Turning the fresh horses out only added to his agitation, especially when the youngsters stirred up the palomino stallion Led while the wrangler was hand-walking him. The Quarter is still recovering from the nasty tendon injury he suffered on the job, and isn’t supposed to be bouncing off the concrete like a rubber ball on a leash, but tell that to an energetic horse who has barely been out of his box for the past month. Garth readied a horse for his boss, which he managed to ride before breakfast, but Dean was unfocused and gave up after thirty minutes.

Now, they were all quietly eating their breakfast, the delicious meal giving them some consolation. Ellen observes the awfully silent crew, exchanging a look with her daughter, who with a slow shake of her head tells her mother to not bring it up, and so she doesn’t. The head wrangler is the first to get up from his seat, rinse his plate in the sink, and return to the stables. The others follow his example, the barn soon buzzing with activity.

Y/N works like a dog, mucking out the stable in record time without pausing. It’s a good distraction for her reeling mind, the hard labor ridding her of the frustration that boils her blood whenever she thinks of the man who ruined her faith in true love. Garth, sensing that the intern was fine on her own, took the tough job of raking the arena by hand, since machinery has let them down. Meanwhile, Jo and Dean train the animals as per usual, but there’s no bantering between them during the cool down. In fact, the wrangler’s cousin has decided to ignore him altogether.

Getting more irritated with every second passing, the horseman dismounts the six-year-old gelding named Santana, deciding that a light workout is enough for today. The wrangler is always careful to not let his emotions bleed into his work, but he’s finding it difficult to keep himself in check. Jo has already parked her horse next to the bay Quarter and has tacked down the buckskin without granting Dean a look. He sighs; Jo is not easily going to forgive him for hurting her friend, but he still tries to break the stifling silence.

“Can you pass me the water?” he asks, nodding at the yellow garden hose that’s rolled up by the faucet. Without even granting him a look, the ranch owner’s daughter throws the showerhead in his direction, the nozzle clattering on the tiles in front of Dean’s feet. He sighs, annoyed. “So this is how it’s gonna be?” he scoffs. “I get that you’re mad, but you can at least t--” “I have nothing to say to you,” she snaps.

It’s not the first time Jo is angry with him, because the two have a habit of getting on each other’s nerves. This time it’s different, though, and the bitterness in her tone sends a clear message that he has burned his bridges. Gritting his teeth, he lets the comment slide, deciding that it’s useless to fire back a counter. She has a solid point after all; he doesn’t deserve her sympathy in the slightest. Figuring that these will be the only words they exchange for at least a couple of days, the cowboy begins to hose down Santana, when Jo turns on her heels with her horse’s lead rope in one hand and her fist firmly planted on her waist. “You know what? I do have something to say. You just don’t get to speak in return,” she kicks off, about to unleash her wrath. Dean lifts his gaze from the dirt and sweat that he’s washing out of his horse’s coat, for the first time looking into his cousin’s fiery eyes. The petit cowgirl, who is easily nine inches shorter than the man before her, is intimidating nonetheless. He takes a breath, bracing himself for impact. Here it comes.

“You’re a cold-hearted, spineless, self-absorbed dick, know that? For once in your life, you’ve got something good goin’, someone who was willing to look past your gigantic ego and your daddy issues, yet the first thing you do when life gets tough, is drop her like a hot potato. Do you have any idea how much pain you’ve caused the poor girl? Because I do! She wouldn’t want me to tell you this, but she cried for hours, hours, and that’s on you! Guess who had to comfort her, huh?” Jo goes off. “I am so far past mad; I am furious! I really thought you had finally found a reason to change into something better than the abbreviated piece of nothing that you are now, but it seems like Y/N wasn’t the only one who was naive.” “You done?” the wrangler says coldly when she pauses to catch her breath. “Go hump a cactus, Dean,” she sneers.

With those words, Jo strides away, the large animal next to her obediently following her, well aware that now is not the time to be stubborn. The man who’s left with the poignant insults still echoing inside his head, pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth, staring at his feet for a second before he sniffs and focuses on the task at hand again. He might have pretended that her message left him unbothered, but the opposite is true. Jo could as well slap him across the face; it would hurt less.

Defeated, the wrangler takes Santana to his box and removes the halter from the large animal’s head. The sweet horse seeks contact, nudging her nose against Dean’s shoulder. He rubs the Quarter’s withers before he exits the stable, appreciating the only kindness that he’s received so far this morning.

“Dean?” He tenses, not expecting his name to fall off the lips of the woman who he parted from only yesterday. When the cowboy meets her gaze, the look Y/N gives him is as cold as the tone of her voice. “I need a word,” she says, although it sounds more like a demand. “S - sure,” he stutters, glancing down briefly before he looks back up again, suddenly nervous. He’s not sure if he can handle being scolded by his ex-girlfriend as well. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to work together anymore,” she states formally. “I��d like a new supervisor.”

Dean cocks his head back slightly, unbalanced by the appeal. He rubs his temple, averting his eyes but then nods, acknowledging that she’s probably right, even though the request is a painful one. “Yeah, uh - sure. I’ll ask Garth,” he stammers, estimating that he would be the obvious choice since she’s so close with Jo. He wouldn’t want their friendship to be tainted by the difference in rank. “Okay,” the intern responds, her expression stark and strained, before she walks past him.

Motionless, the head wrangler remains on his spot, setting his jaw and closing his eyes for a second. Somehow, he didn’t expect their first exchange to be strictly business. Her stance is so different from what he’s grown used to. Even on the night they met when she gave him a hard time, the tension between them didn’t feel as heavy as it does now. He realized when he called it quits that she would struggle with his decision, but Jo’s confirmation that she spent most of last night crying over their separation has him desperate to ease the pain.

“Y/N…” he says softly while turning before she’s too far gone to pick up on his voice. “I have work to do,” she cuts off, shooting him a short glare over her shoulder.

Dean swallows thickly while watching her leave, fast and determined strides taking her as far away from him as possible. Damn it, he really did ruin his chances of even maintaining any sort of a friendship, didn’t he? He’s not sure what else he expected after the way they parted, but despite the loathing and vexed look she just shot him that feels like a bullet to the heart, he’s glad. Let her be angry, let her hate him. It will be easier for her to deal with those emotions, than just the overwhelming sense of sadness. He knows, because he hasn’t felt this devastated, empty, and incomplete since his family fell apart; he’s talking from experience. Wishing the day was over already, the cowboy adjusts his hat and gets back to work, hoping that riding will offer him the therapy he so desperately needs.

Unfortunately, the day doesn’t pass by nearly as fast as Dean would like to. After riding five horses, he, Benny, and Garth use their lunch break to look at the beat-up tractor that once again has let them down. The head wrangler doesn’t mind skipping his midday meal; he would rather avoid sitting across from Y/N in a room overflowing with awkwardness, plus, he’s not hungry anyway.

The machine from 1979 was bound to die on the crew sooner than later, but after the farrier slash mechanic discovers metal particles in the gearbox fluid, it becomes clear that a simple oil change isn’t going to cut it this time. “Yep, she’s toast,” Benny sighs, wiping his dirty hands with a cloth. “Just what we need,” his friend grunts. He’s not looking forward to his uncle’s response to the setback. “I’ll tell Bobby.” “I can if you want me to,” the stable boy - who is also responsible for the machinery - offers. Dean purses his lips slightly, his thumbs hooked through the belt loops of his jeans while he stares at the old John Deere absently. “Nah, I’ll do it. I got a question for you, though. Do you mind supervising Y/N from now on?” Garth shakes his head, taking in his boss, somewhat confused. “No, not at all.” “Good,” the wrangler replies quickly, thankful that the slender employee takes on the task without question. The clueless young man didn’t pick up on the relationship between Dean and the intern to begin with, and he would rather keep him in the dark, especially now that it has ended. He knocks on the rusty hood of the tractor before he heads off. “I’ll see y’all in a bit. Can you start rolling out the hay to the pastures with the wheelbarrows? It’s gonna take a hell of a lot longer without this old thing.”

The shade inside the stables is welcoming, and not just because it offers cooler temperatures. Dean’s eyes are still painfully sore from the lack of sleep and he rubs at them again, trying to stop them from burning. Shit, and it’s only Monday, he sighs to himself. The three-day event over the weekend means no time off for the employees who attended. The last time he didn’t have to show up at seven in the morning or earlier was late September, which means that he has been working twelve-hour plus shifts for fourteen days straight now. Work never stops on a ranch. The horses depend on him; they will always need food, a clean stable and exercise, no matter how tired, lovesick, or miserable he is.

The cafeteria is already empty. His aunt is probably at the guesthouses to change the sheets and towels, giving the accommodations a quick once-over. However, he finds a post-it on the long table with his name on it; ‘Don’t forget to eat. Bacon sandwiches are in the fridge - Ellen’. As the cowboy smiles for the first time today, he wonders if Bobby has told his wife anything about John’s unexpected visit in Flagstaff, hoping that he hasn’t. Knowing his aunt, she’s going to sit him down for some sweet tea and a talk, even though previous attempts of having a conversation as such proved to be unsuccessful. He appreciates her concern, though, the idea of his surrogate mom caring about him offering Dean some solace.

The wrangler walks through the high barn doors on the other side, the sun doing its very best to cheer him up, but the rays don’t reach his soul. He makes his way to the Singer’s home, reckoning he will find Bobby there. As per usual, Dean takes off his hat and hangs it on the coat hanger, kicking off his boots before he proceeds to the office in the back of the house. After knocking, he pushes the door ajar, finding his uncle behind his desk. The place is still a mess, but the occupant’s features aren’t draped in shadows like the last time he was here. The blinders are open, the window a passe-partout of the Joshua tree, together with the paddocks and pastures surrounding it.

The rancher looks up when his nephew enters. “Hey, son. How’s the tractor comin’?” “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s fried. The oil is swimming with debris,” Dean tells, taking a seat on the other side of the desk. “Metal?” Bobby questions. When the young man across from him nods, he curses. “Balls!”

Dean presses his lips into a firm line, keeping still in the worn chair to prevent it from squeaking. His uncle seemed to be in a good mood after the successful show, but he can tell that this setback has put a strain on the old man’s frame of mind.

“You’re gonna call the service station?” the head wrangler wonders. “No, that’s gonna cost us. We finally managed to make some money, I ain’t planning on spending it on that damned thing.” The rancher adjusts his ball cap before leaning back in his chair. “You boys can give it a go first, open up that gearbox, see what’s broken. I’ll order parts once you figure out what’s wrong with that piece of shit.”

Scribbling something down on a piece of paper, Bobby sighs, but then returns his focus to Dean. “There’s somethin’ else I need to discuss with you.” His right-hand raises his eyebrows slightly, his interest peaked. “What’s that?” “It’s about Cain,” his uncle murmurs. “Apparently MacLeod didn’t tell the entire story.” Dean scoffs, shaking his head. “Should I be surprised? I’m not sure what kinda vibes you picked up from that shady dude, but I sure as hell don’t trust him for the life of me.” “I don’t either. That’s why I think we should reconsider that deal.” Bobby rests his elbows on the armrests of his chair, forking his fingers together in his lap. He expected some resistance from Dean, but not such a strong reaction as his nephew fires back.

“What?! Are you serious?” he counters, perplexed. “You’re just gonna wipe it off the table?” “Not ‘just’, but we need to consider our options,” his boss returns. “How many options do we have exactly? Because the way I see it, this arrangement is a pretty damn good one. It’s good money, a steady income with the prospect of a huge bonus, not to mention what doors it might open for the future. This horse might be the break we need,” Dean advocates, remembering Y/N’s words clearly when she summed up all the possibilities that Cain might bring with him. “Look, I know Fergus is a proper dick, but he has a reputation to protect. There’s too much at stake for him, and I don’t believe he will double-cross us. If we deliver, he’s gonna pay good bucks.” “And that’s where we might have a problem; actually delivering,” Bobby returns, taking in his head wrangler. Dean draws his head back, slightly hurt, frowning at his uncle’s words. “You don’t think I can get the job done?” “I’m not sure if anyone can, son,” the owner of the Gold Canyon Ranch states calmly. “The horse doesn’t just have ‘some behavioral issues’, as Fergus put it. He’s unapproachable, unpredictable, aggressive. That stallion is dangerous to everyone in a square mile radius. Jody rang me this morning to warn us.” “Jody?” the cowboy returns, puzzled. He’s aware that the female rancher knows a lot of people in this business, but he didn’t expect the news of the famous stallion’s arrival would spread so fast. “How did she even know that Cain was coming to us?” “Because MacLeod is a client of hers. Cain is currently in her stables.”

Dean’s eyebrows hit his hairline, emerald greens staring over the desk at the man on the other side. While gaping at his uncle, questions begin to race through his mind. Jody did business with Fergus? Jody is a good trainer with excellent judgment, so if she claims Cain is untrainable, that says something. Their last conversation in Flagstaff comes to mind, the news about Gabe’s hospitalization shocking him at the time. Could his friend’s injuries be the stallion’s doing?

Bobby watches his trusted worker process the information, rolling his chair a little closer and resting his forearms on the varnished wood, closing his hand over his fist. “I know this complicates things, but I’m gonna leave it up to you. If you think you can handle the stallion, I will trust your judgment. But I don’t want you to risk your neck for the money, Dean. We will find another way.”

The horseman chews on his lip as he ponders, his focus capturing nothing in particular as his eyes flick over the items and documents on the desk. “We’ll have a week to evaluate him. I’ll make the call after that,” he decides. “Mind if I contact Jody to get some insight on what I’m up against?” “Knock yourself out,” Bobby consents. “Just leave the numbers that we agreed to out of it.” “Will do.”

Dean gets up from his seat, pushing the chair closer to the desk before he intends to slip out of the office before he’s stopped by his boss. “One more thing,” the wise man says, looking over his enclosed hands. “What’s going on with you and the intern?”

Caught, the head wrangler freezes, eyes wide with shock and pure horror staring into the hallway. Shit. How the hell is he going to answer that? Is he referring to the dance at the opening night of the horse show or the palpable tension that has surrounded the former couple whenever they were in close range of each other? Dean doesn’t know, but he has the feeling that the continuation of this conversation is going to be anything but pleasant. Composing himself before he turns back to face his uncle.

“Nothin’. What do you mean?” He shrugs as the corners of his mouth draw down, pretending to be careless. “Don’t play dumb, boy. I was born at night, but not last night.” Bobby glares at him knowingly. “Are you messin’ around with her?” “No,” Dean says firmly, the truth in his words hurting him deep down. His uncle lifts his chin, holding the cowboy’s gaze while narrowing his eyes. It’s clear that he’s not buying. “You wanna explain then why you two were like two peas in a pot in Flagstaff, but can’t even look at each other now?”

With his hand still on the door handle, his nephew attempts to keep his act together, but then he sighs. Damn it, he was so close to making it out of this meeting alive. Oh well, what’s one more lecture, right?

“Look, there’s nothing going on, not anymore. I - uh, I got carried away and I shouldn’t have let it,” he admits. “I broke it off. It won’t happen again.” “Is this gonna be a problem?” his boss asks sternly. “If you two can’t work together--” “It isn’t. Garth will supervise her from now on. Just to prevent any issues in the future,” he continues, hoping the fact that they actually discussed how to carry on as colleagues from this point forward will put the concern to rest.

“There better be a future for her here on this ranch. I can’t afford to lose a free worker, especially not one as skilled as she is,” Bobby warns, not convinced. “I’d pray that she won’t pack her bags if I were you, ‘cause I’ll give ya one guess who’s gonna have to work twice as hard and whose ass I’m gonna bust.” “She won’t leave,” his head wrangler guarantees, willing to bet his life on it.

His promise might seem based on a hopeful hunch, but Y/N hasn’t given Dean any indication to question her professionalism. She even approached him in order to change the conditions of her internship, which couldn’t have been easy for her. Their interaction will be minimized and strictly business from now on, something he reckons she will handle much more gracefully than he will, simply because she has a bigger purpose to focus on. This placement is a stepping stone to her dream of owning her own ranch, and that goal hasn’t changed. He knows she won’t leave Gold Canyon.

Bobby observes his nephew, still bothered by the fact that he didn’t listen to him when he specifically told the bachelor not to get involved with the intern. He’s going to save the rant for another time, though, the sight of an already dejected man before him having him hold back. It seems like this is doing a number on young fellow, and considering how they were with each other at the horse show this weekend, he’s not surprised. The two reminded him of his twenties when he first got together with his Ellen. The boy is hurting, more than he lets on. “Alright then. Get goin’, I’ve got bills to pay,” he eventually says, shooing Dean out with a flick of the wrist.

Relieved that his uncle is cutting him some slack, he nods and silently pulls the door shut, putting a barrier between himself and the conversation he has been dreading for weeks. If only he could be able to tell Bobby that he’s with the girl he’s in love with; he would have taken the grumpy rebuke with a grin on his face. If only.

While stepping outside, the cowboy pulls his cellphone from his jeans pocket, looking up Jody Mills’ number in his contacts. He begins to slowly stroll back and forth on the porch in its sheltering shade, the floorboards moaning and cracking under his boots as he waits with his Nokia pressed against his ear. The steady tone beeps twice before his friend picks up. “Hey,” it sounds from the other side of the line. “I was hoping you’d call.” “Yeah, Bobby told me about Cain,” he returns. “Kinda complicates things, don’t it?” “I need to listen to me very carefully,” Jody starts, earnest and worried. “Do not take that horse into your stable.”

The cowboy sighs, glancing over the land while hooking his thumb behind his belt. He figured the female rancher would try to convince him to back off. “It’s good money, Jody, and I’ve handled difficult cases before. Cain deserves a shot. I have to try.” “I get it, but hear me out. If Fergus offered you a deal that seems too good to be true, that’s because it is. I know you’re an excellent trainer, hell, the best that I know. But I’m telling you, we’re not talking about a stallion with some authority issues here. That horse is twisted, has wires crossed. I have never seen such behavior,” she presses. “So many people have tried to straighten him out already. I did some digging, and Fergus’ supposedly ‘million dollar prospect’ has moved in and out nine different stables over the past year. No one has succeeded.”

He ponders, not taking her warning lightly. Jody is an experienced equestrian who has dealt with many tough animals. She even passed some horses on to him when she couldn’t get through to them. The woman is well aware of the limits to her expertise and has always been honest with clients when a horse was too much for her to handle, but never before has she doubted that the wrangler from the Gold Canyon Ranch could do the job.

“When Gabe got hurt, was it…?” Dean wonders, hesitant, not finishing his sentence. “It was Cain.”

He sets his jaw, the muscles flexing under his stubble. Although he assumed it was the stallion who has put his former colleague into the hospital, it still shocks him. He continues to pace the deck in front of the Singer’s home. “How is he doing?” he wonders. Jody pulls in a deep breath, the message she’s about to deliver clearly a difficult one. “He’s never gonna walk again. Paralyzed from the waist down.”

Dean closes his eyes and swallows thickly. It’s the outcome they all feared, but hearing the confirmation makes his gut churn. Losing one's legs is a nightmare for everyone, but for a rider? He can’t possibly picture it, becoming wheelchair-bound. Honestly, he would rather die than to never be able to get in the saddle again.

“Dean, I know you believe every horse deserves a second chance, but please, let this one go. He is beyond repair. I’m not asking, I’m begging,” she pleads, a tremor in her voice. “If you take on Cain, it’s only a matter of time before you get hurt, or worse.”

The words are backed up by a heavy silence. The two stay quiet for a while, the words sinking in with the wrangler. Flight animals fueled by fear can do either two things; run or attack. If getting away from the supposed threat is impossible, they tend to go for the last. It’s not something the horse will even think about; it’s a survival instinct. When a naturally kind creature takes a turn like that, it becomes a thousand-pound killing machine. If Cain is truly that far gone, it is likely that he is indeed beyond saving. The trainer has to see it for himself, though, and not just because the ranch can use the cash. He realizes that if he doesn’t take on this task, someone else will, someone with less experience. If this stallion is really that lethal, the next novice trainer might make an error of judgment that will be his or her last. At least Dean has the skills. It seems like he is Cain’s last resort, because if he isn’t trainable, he will get the bullet at some point. He wouldn’t be the first horse to be put down because of similar problems.

“Thanks for the warning, Jody,” he responds after a long pause. “I’ll keep it in mind.” “Dean--” “I know. I know what you’re gonna say, but if I don’t do this, who knows what might happen to him. I’ve got a week to decide if we wanna go through with it. That’s the least I can do.” He can hear his friend grunt, frustrated, probably realizing that changing his mind was a long shot to begin with. “Just… be careful, okay?” “I will, promise,” Dean assures. “Talk to you later.”

The cowboy hangs up, staring at his phone for a few more seconds before he puts it away and steps out into the sun, heading back to the stables. The admonition continues to ring in his ears, and he allows the caution to imprint the decisions he needs to make in the upcoming days. After all, warned is forearmed.

Y/N wishes anyone had warned her how painful it is to have her heart broken by the person who made it beat just for him. Maybe she would have been more mindful then, more guarded. Maybe she wouldn’t have let him have it, had she known how careless he would be.

Around 5 o’clock, her new supervisor said it was okay if she wanted to take her own horse for a ride. Normally she trains Meadow either before or after shift, but she got all the work done at record speed, desperate for a distraction, that all her daily tasks were fulfilled two hours before dinner. Maybe Garth detected that she needed some alone-time with her four-legged friend, because he suggested the ride with a sympathetic smile and a kind nudge, sending her towards the Quarter’s box.

After straightening out the saddle pad, the cowgirl tightens the cinch. Meadow, who can be a bit of a grumpy mare when it comes to tacking up, stands still without moving a muscle, allowing her owner to ready her for a ride without pulling a prank like she usually does. Sometimes the cheeky horse will try to fish Y/N’s phone from her back pocket, nibble at her hat or her sleeve, or refuse to take a step aside when requested, but not today. Maybe she can sense that such an action could set her human off.

The horse accepts the bit when the cowgirl offers it to her, after which she pulls the headpiece over Meadow’s black-tipped ears, securing the straps skillfully. She sniffles, wiping her nose and forcing herself to keep her composure a little while longer. In a few minutes, when she’s away from prying eyes, she will allow to let the tears flow again, but not now, not yet.

Y/N unties her horse, places her left foot in the stirrup, and swings her right leg over the back of her bay mare, softly landing in the saddle. Picking up the reins, she steers her horse away from the tack up area, the smooth leather between her fingers giving her a sense of control that she’s missing in her love life.

Instead of leading Meadow towards the arena, the rider guides her towards the gate that leads to the trail. Her horse had an eventful weekend and gave it her all in competition, so it wouldn’t be fair to put her through a full workout. The performance took a lot out of the willing horse who never seizes to bring her best efforts and more. Even though the freestyle only lasted minutes, the athlete peaked with a brilliant execution of the routine, which takes a lot of skill and strength. Then there’s the ambiance of a show, the new environment, all the sensory overload. The combination of all those factors did a number the Quarter, and she deserves a calm and relaxing ride, much like the young woman she’s carrying on her back. Y/N is in no state to train, well aware that the heightened emotions will get the best of her if something might not work out the way she planned, and that’s not something she wants her companion to bear the consequences of. If anything, Meadow has been absolutely wonderful, seeming to understand that her person is sad and needs someone to lean on.

After closing the fence behind them, the girl and her horse follow the path that leads towards the hills. Cacti flank the road ahead towards the Superstition Mountains, which stand tall in the backdrop. The beautiful amber colored volcanic rock formations seem even more vibrant now that the setting sun blesses nature with a warm glow. The vegetation is much greener than it was when they searched for the herd of youngsters in the reservoir. Autumn is here, and within a couple of months, the ridges that reach for the sky will be covered in snow. It’s supposed to be a beautiful sight, at least that’s what Dean told her.

Now that it’s just her and Meadow, Y/N finally allows the suppressed tears to fall. The battle she has been fighting all day is one she knew she would lose eventually, she just wanted to be with her most faithful friend when the levee breaks. She doesn’t even intend to wipe the drops of despair away, knowing that she has to let it out now in order to keep up the facade later. And so the last rays of the day catch the shimmering pathways down her cheeks, similar to how the water cobbled at Willow’s Creek, where she and Dean shared their first kiss. All the memories, those perfect little moments that she thought to cherish forever, they are worth nothing now. It was all just a dream.

Y/N transits into a slow canter, hoping that the wind in her face will chase the sorrow away. She has to feel something completely opposite to the grief that is ripping her apart. She needs to experience freedom and the bond that comes along with this unique partnership between her and Meadow, the simplicity of moving across the desert like men and their horses have been doing so for centuries. No engines, no computers, no engineering. Just two souls of completely different species merging as one.

Resting her free hand on her horse’s neck and gripping the black mane, she pushes her heels into the Quarter’s flanks, aiding her to pick up speed. The bay mare takes over, her rider is no longer in control, but she no longer has to be. Y/N doesn’t need to direct this movie, because she trusts Meadow with her life. If there is any being on the face of the planet that she would follow blindly, it’s her companion. Meadow has never let her down, not once, and her owner knows there will never come a moment when she will. And so she breathes in, welcoming the wind to fill her lungs with newfound courage, brought on by the majestic animal that gallops across the landscape, carrying Y/N on her wings.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-six here

#Ride With Me #Dean x Reader #Cowboy!Dean x reader #Cowboy!Dean AU #Dean Winchester series #Cowboy!Dean series #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester reader insert #Dean Winchester #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Supernatural AU #SPN #Supernatural #Supernatural series #SPN series #Dean angst #Dean fluff #RWM chapter 25 #Kate Huntington

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secret-engima · 4 years

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*kicks down door* WHO WANTS TO READ ME RAMBLE/RANT ABOUT THE GRALEA LEVEL IN FFXV AND WHY IT ACTUALLY WAS A GOOD LEVEL AND EVERYONE SHOULD PLAY THE NOCTIS ROUTE AT LEAST ONCE RATHER THAN THE GLADIO ROUTE EVEN THOUGH IT’S TERRIFYING AND FRUSTRATING.

No one?

WELL TOO BAD.

(Unless you haven’t played or watched the game yet and don’t want spoilers in which case TURN AWAY NOW).

...Ahem. *deep breath* Okay so I will forever stand by my opinion that chapter 13 of the game (the one that takes place on the train and then in Gralea) is Good™ and does exactly what it's supposed to in the narrative. That is not to say I don't hate it with a passion and didn't cheer when they added the Gladiolus route for those of us (like me) who didn't want to replay the Noctis route again, but I will stubbornly insist to anyone that wants to listen that the chapter's difficulty and wildly different tone and pacing was THE POINT of the darn thing and deserves some respect for it.

See, the game up to that point is, if not always lighthearted (because it's not), has still been something of an Adventure Story™. Yes there's horrible tragic things like Insomnia falling and Regis dying, but for the most part the gameplay is exploration and cool combat mechanics and the relationship between the four brothers. It's ... happy for a good chunk of it. There's this light at the end of the tunnel, this comfy assurance that there can be a happy ending, that this can all be fixed and tied up in a neat little bow somehow.

Then Altissia happens. Luna dies, Ignis is blinded, and the game puts you on literal rails, forcing you to go hurtling toward A Different Tone. Everyone is stressed, everyone is scared or angry. You’d THINK that this is the lowest point of the story and that surely there’s going to be an emotional reconciliation between Noctis and Gladio and then we’ll get back to exploring and saving the world and all that jazz.

Except we don’t.

The train scene with Ardyn and Shiva happens, and the entire heartbreak with Prompto happens, and that’s when things start to seriously crack. You lose all access to your magic while stuck in this narrow train, then you lose the Regalia, your symbol of freedom, your main way to travel through the game (even when you fast travel, the animation of arrival shows you getting out of the Regalia). You are now trapped in Gralea. In dark, hostile territory with one of your party missing, one of them blind, the other angry at you, and still no magic. Then a few minutes later you are forcibly separated from the rest of your party, the characters you’ve spent all game getting attached to, and leaning on, and laughing with. They are your last anchor points to the brother dynamic that has kept the whole game on a lighter note and now they are GONE. You have none of your weapons or skills, you have no idea where the others are (first time playing the game without spoilers anyway), you have NOTHING. No hope. No backup. No distractions from the fact that, oh yeah, this is a story where the Bad. Guys. Win. Are winning, have won, and all Noctis (all you) can do is take out the Ring that slowly killed Regis, that Luna died for, the thing that represents everything going wrong and all NOCTIS must do to fix it even when he is painfully, woefully unprepared ... and finally put it on.

Noctis (and by extension you, the player) MUST shoulder the responsibility of being the king of a lost kingdom, of acknowledging that he IS the king, his dad was MURDERED, and Luna was killed for the thing you are now wearing and everything it means. It’s your only option until you eventually find the dead Ravus and take back Regis’s sword toward the middle/end of the level, which you can’t use recklessly because every swing drains your very life-force, forcing the Ring to still be your “best” option in many cases.

Most of that level is spent running, and hiding, and praying that the MT Units on the floor don’t leap up and try to murder you, or that the daemons don’t notice you, or that the teleporting daemon doesn’t find you, or that Ardyn will just SHUT UP because his taunts are really unhelpful right now.

The only hope you have left in this level is to grit your teeth and get through it with the Ring until you can reunite with your brothers and get magic back and go get the Crystal, the mcguffin of this whole game, and put the game back on the normal track of brotherly dynamics and fun quests. Just get to the Crystal, and everything will somehow start going back to normal.

And then that turns out to be a trap too.

Welcome to the final act of a tragedy, and your character is the one living through it. There will be no restoration of the norm until you’ve seen this to its final conclusion. There will be no light save for the one Noctis dies for.

Even when I first played that level (vanilla, not even a day one patch version btw because I was an idiot like that) and hated it because it was terrifying, I never thought it didn't belong in the story like ... quite a few comments I saw on the internet later insisted it didn’t. This is Noctis's story. This is Noctis's tragedy. THIS is the level that strips every last distraction and security blanket and shelter away from him and makes him put on the Ring and thus shoulder everything it represents. There is- terror here, there is trauma, there is GRIEF. This is practically Noctis's headspace without his brothers, because let's not forget that while we the players are having fun fishing and catching frogs for a silly scientist lady, Noctis is a refugee from an empire that MURDERED HIS FATHER and the FATHER OF HIS SHIELD-BROTHER, destroyed his HOME and then, right before Gralea, murdered Luna, the girl who he's known and talked to and confided in via letter for twelve years. This is a world falling into literal darkness (and if the player hadn’t noticed how the daytime cycle in the game kept getting shorter and shorter before this point YOU CERTAINLY NOTICE NOW) and it's up to Noctis- JUST Noctis, ONLY NOCTIS thanks to a Prophecy made long before he was ever born, to somehow Fix It™.

One person. Just one.

And he has to fix ... all of this.

How?

He doesn’t know. During the Gralea level he DOESN’T KNOW. All he (all we) know is that the Crystal is the key, but since the Crystal only answers to Lucis Caelums, that means Noctis is the key, and Noctis (and you the player) is painfully aware of how Not Ready he is.

And the weight of that is enough to render you helpless in the face of it. The fear of that is a maze. The terror of it is a monster following you down the halls that you cannot escape from and cannot kill while it laughs at your misery.

All of that is GRALEA. The capital city of the people who overthrew his home, killed his father, killed his fiancé, and isolated him from the last safety nets he had.

The entirety of chapter 13 isn’t meant to be enjoyed. It’s meant to make you scared. It’s meant to frustrate you and make you feel helpless. It’s meant to make you feel sick when you learn what the daemons and MTs you’ve been killing really are. It’s meant to make you RAGE against Ardyn, and the Empire, and this entire situation because you’re one person and you’re not prepared for this and it’s NOT FAIR and you just want things to go BACK TO THE WAY IT WAS AND ALL OF THIS SUCKS.

Yeah. It does.

And who else do you think feels like that?

Noctis.

Chapter 13 isn’t meant to be fun. It’s meant to make you feel like Noctis does.

And what emotions would you expect from someone who has just lost everything and is expected to fix everything for everyone else, and now has no distractions or shields between him and his grief?

I remember reading an article about “why this chapter failed” and it was basically to the order of “this game is about a fun road trip with your bros and reuniting with your fiancé and chapter 13 breaks away from that too hard” and I respectfully have to disagree.

This story isn’t about a “fun road trip” and it isn’t just about “reuniting with your fiancé”. From the very first cutscene we are told that it’s not in Regis’s desperate (and soon revealed as last) words to his son about setting forth on a journey and not being able to go back. We are told it’s not in the first hour or so when Insomnia burns and Noctis cries and Cor tells us that “in his last moments together he didn’t want to be your king, he wanted to be your father”. How is that a “fun story about a road trip?”. Yes the road trip IS fun for us, and it IS about the brother relationship, but in a large, LARGE part-

Final Fantasy XV is about a young man setting out into the world and facing the hardships of it. It’s about loss. It’s about regrets. It’s about how no matter how much you want them to, some things can never go back to the way they were yet you must keep going anyway. It’s about how the darkness of the world will just keep taking-taking-taking until someone is willing to pay the price to make it stop, and that sometimes a happy ending for the people you love most means giving up your own personal happy ending on their behalf.

Final Fantasy XV never really hid the fact that it was a tragic, bittersweet story.

But it’s in chapter 13 that the story refuses to let you mistake it for anything else any longer.

Could the chapter have been structured a little better so that the gameplay itself wasn’t so frustrating? Probably. I know almost nothing about game design so that’s not really my call. But does the chapter, for all its frustration and anger-inducing inversion of pacing and tone, brutally get the point across?

Maybe it’s just my opinion, but I’d say yes. Yes it does. Because this video game was the one that fully 100% convinced me, in a way that no other video game had before, that the platform could tell heart wrenching stories, could give me characters I would care for, cry over, rage on the behalf of.

And a big part of that clicked for me at the ending, but it likely wouldn’t have if I hadn’t first struggled my way through chapter 13 and all the emotions it causes and represents just like Noctis did.

...

There. I’m done. Thanks for reading my long-suppressed rant on the most hated chapter of FFXV.

#Secret Engima Rambles #SE rants #ffxv #storytelling things #writer things #I will die on this hill

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mrs-hatake · 4 years

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train station shenanigans (1)

A/N: Helloooooo everyone!

As promised, here’s the first chapter/intro of the aizawa x reader fic based on my work life! This is 90% Self Indulgent so just a heads up!

Anyways, enjoy! :D

Ps, not proof read!

Se no!

Demo sonnan ja dame mou sonnan ja hora.

You groaned in protest at the sound of your alarm that blared under your pillow. With your eyes still closed, you slid your hand under your pillow and fished out your phone to quickly tap the stop function. The white numbers of the clock read half past seven in the morning. You let out a whine and cursed the day you applied for a job.

Once you had convinced yourself to stay awake and ignore the sweet calls of slumber, you unlocked your phone and checked your notifications. After spending about fifteen minutes on twitter, you chucked your phone behind on your bed and pushed yourself upwards. You yawned loudly as you stretched your limbs. Lazily, you exited your bedroom and slowly went down the stairs so as to not awaken your mother and baby brother.

Today was your first day back to work after the mandatory lockdown due to the spread of the new virus. Having a break from work was wonderful as you were able to spend more time with your family. It sucked that everything was closed and you weren’t going to lie, it was stressful seeing the death tolls on the news, but you had fun at home. And now that things had finally calmed down in Japan, it was time to return to work.

Despite your whines from earlier, you were honestly looking forward to work. It was fun being at home, especially when you had so much free time to binge watch all of your favorite shows, but that could be entertaining for so long before it lost its charm.

With a soft hum of some random song, you worked on making yourself breakfast. Nothing too fancy, just some frozen waffles that you shoved down the toaster and then later drizzled caramel on top. You moaned at the fluffy texture in your mouth, and briefly, you were reminded of your days in school. When it was the first day and your mother would be up early and making breakfast for you. You missed those days. Life was much simpler back then. You wondered if your baby brother missed the lively atmosphere while getting for school or not. When you swallowed the last piece of waffle, you washed the dish and utensils that you’ve used before heading back upstairs to shower and get ready for work.

You decided to wear a simple yellow sundress for work. The best thing about the company you worked in wasn't being strict with the clothes you wore. As long as they were modest and family friendly, they found no reason to implement a strict dress code. Your senior coworkers decided to stick with the traditional attire of dark colored business suits. As much as you loved black, you didn’t want to wear the dark color every single day.

After you finished dressing up, you applied light mascara and let your dark green, almost black, curly locks gently rest on your shoulders. Spraying some lavender scented perfume, you texted your mother that you were off to work. But not before you snuck into your brother’s room, brushed back his dark green curls and pecked his forehead.

It was strange seeing the normally crowded streets of Musutafu be so desolate. The vast streets that were once filled with cars, almost resembling a parade with its colors and soft purrs of the motors, only had four or five cars on each lane. It was almost unnerving how quiet the streets of Musutafu were. But no matter, at least now you didn’t have to worry about traffic. Sure, you took the bus to work, though it was still frustrating to be trapped in the middle of traffic while freaking out over being on work on time. Not that you ever had been late. You always managed to show up at least twenty minutes earlier than the intended time.

The smell of bleach and lemon wafted through your nose once you stepped foot into the modestly sized train station. Just like the streets of Musutafu, the train station was just as desolate. The buzz of passengers sizzled out to soft mummers. The sea of people shrunk to a puddle. And the cheery atmosphere became somber. It was depressing. Though that didn’t deter you. With your head held high, you went straight to your office that you would normally share with five other people. Due to the new government rule, however, employees who weren’t supervisors, managers or ceos will take shifts and return to work every other day. Meaning you only had to work with three other people today.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Was the first thing that greeted your ears when you opened your office door.

Your boss was...unorthodox. He had long wavy hair that he would put up in a messy bun. Grey circles could be seen under his eyes and a soft stubble peppered his chin and upper lip. If you could describe your boss, then you would use the adjectives: grumpy and sleep deprived.

“Good morning, Aizawa-san.” You replied with a smile. Though, at the remembrance of wearing a mask that was way too big for you and covered most of your face, you dropped the smile. Aizawa said nothing, only nodded his head and continued to type away on his computer.

As you sanitize your workstation and logged into your computer, your supervisor Yamada Hizashi, walked in and bellowed “Gooooooood morning my little ducklings!” You heard Aizawa groan under his breath and tried not to chuckle at his misery.

Aizawa and Yamada were childhood friends and coworkers. It baffled you at first when Nemuri, your co-supervisor, had mentioned it in passing. The two were extremely different. While Yamada was the bright sun on a summer’s day that humans longed for after a long and miserable winter, Aizawa was the moon that people sung praises to with his mysterious aura and charming personality. After working with them for a month, however, you could see how the two were best friends. They balanced each other out perfectly and would always bring out the best side of the other person.

“Must you be so loud so early in the morning.” It wasn’t meant to be a question but Yamada answered anyway.

“Yes, I must bless everyone with my beautiful voice.”

If he wasn’t in a work environment, you were certain that Aizawa would have smacked his head on his desk to end his misery.

A peaceful silence settled upon you and you awkwardly shifted in your seat. Neither Aizawa nor Yamada had instructed you with anything to do and you were starting to feel antsy. Just as you were about to excuse yourself to walk around the station, maybe get some fresh air, Aizawa cleared his throat and called your name. You sat up straighter in your chair and locked your eyes with his.

“Write a letter to the Council of Train Stations to approve the extension of payment fees deadline.” Instructed Aizawa before returning to face his computer.

Blinking twice, You wrote down what he said in your notebook and began working on the letter.

You worked in the administrative department of the train station. The company you worked with, All Might Train Station Management, was infamous in maintaining and developing the station. From managing stores, adding holiday decorations to conducting safety measures and promoting the best image of the station, those were among the many things that you will deal with for the next eight months.

Once you have submitted your letter, you inform Aizawa. Who just hummed at you in return, too absorbed in his own work.

This went on for two hours. Aizawa would ask you to write a letter, you wrote it down on your note and then typed it on your computer and submitted it. Sometimes, you would have to contact other employees from other departments to forward you files that you had to attach to your letters. It was stressful, but not unmanageable.

It was around twelve in the afternoon when Aizawa excused himself to meet with the president of the company, Toshinori Yagi. Shortly afterwards, Yamada also left the office to God knows where. A habit of his that you envied but would never actually do. Yamada had been working two years at the company so he had the privilege to take a break from work and wander around. Maybe someday you could do it too, but for now, You’re stuck in your office.

Noticing that none of them were returning any time soon, You took your wallet and made your way to the mini market for a cold beverage and some snacks. You didn’t want to eat lunch at work - not that you can anyways since the staff room was under maintenance - but you were starting to get hungry and you couldn’t work to the best of your potential with an empty stomach.

When you returned to your office, you spotted Aizawa back at his desk. Yamada was nowhere in sight. Quietly, so as to not disrupt your workaholic of a boss, you sat down on your chair and opened your bag of chocolate animal crackers and stabbed the straw into your mango juice box.

“You look like you’re in elementary school.”

Your head shot upwards at Aizawa’s comment and could feel your cheeks flushing with warmth and you were positive that they had turned a bright red color.

“Would you like some?” You blurted and instantly winced. It was no secret that you were an awkward person by nature and tended to blurt things out or ramble on when nervous. You tried improving that aspect of yourself at work, not wanting to embarrass yourself at work like you did in college. You wanted to be professional and taken seriously. But it was proving to be a challenge.

Aizawa appeared to be contemplating your offer, half distracted by whatever it was displayed in front of him on his computer. “Sure, why not.” He eventually replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

Your heart beat in anticipation as you stood up and crossed the short distance between your desk and his. Your hand held out the yellow bag of animal shaped chocolate crackers and watched as Aizawa dipped his hand and fish out two crackers; a panda and an elephant. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Your reply was soft, almost a squeak. Aizawa just hummed in response and returned to type away at his keyboard. You briefly toyed with the idea of being as busy Aizawa, to the point of being unaware of your surroundings.

The rest of the day went uneventful. Aizawa didn’t ask you to write any letters and Yamada didn’t return to the office until half an hour before work ended. The loud blonde asked Aizawa if he wanted to join him for lunch later and you held your breath at what your boss was going to reply, the thought of him living a normal life outside of these four walls was almost unimaginable. “Yeah, sure.” Ah, to see Aizawa in a casual setting, a privilege that you have to work very hard for.

When it was two in the afternoon, you turned off your computer, signed your name on the attendance sheet and bid farewell to your colleagues.

“Goodbye, my little duckling!” You heard Yamada say behind you while Aizawa grunted a quiet ‘bye’.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa imagine #aizawa scenario #aizawa x you #bnha imagine #bnha x reader

122 notes · View notes

onlydreamofmysoul · 3 years

Text

Let Them Eat Cake part ii (Wolfstar bake off au)

This week on The Great British Bake Off

“Oh Lord I’ve just gone and dropped my dough. Repeat, I’ve just dropped my dough”

“I forgot to turn my oven on.”

“I’m going home for sure.”

Remus woke up to his phone ringing.

“Remus!” His mom half-yelled down the line, “You came third in the technical!”

Remus rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Mam, I already told you that, I rang you right after it happened.”

“I know, I know,” Hope said, “But the first episode only came out last night so I’m all excited about it again. Christ Re it’s so strange seeing you on the telly.”

Remus let out an amused huff and flopped back down onto the plush hotel pillows. “Thanks?”

“I’m so proud of you sweetheart… What have you got on today?”

“We’re filming again today, so the first two challenges.”

“Oh, what’s the theme this week?” Hope needled and Remus rolled his eyes fondly. “Man, you know I can’t tell you that yet.”

“I’m your mother. I think if you told anyone, it should be me.”

“Well if I were telling anyone, I would tell you, however…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you’re not telling anyone.” She said a little disappointed. “It was worth a shot.” She let out a melancholic sigh, “My only child, too big a star now, doesn’t even have time to talk to his own mother.”

“I’m currently talking to my own mother so I think that contradicts your point a little.” Remus chimed in. “Also, I hardly think being on one episode of Bake Off counts as a star.”

“Well it’s all anyone here at home has been talking about for at least a month.”

“Wow, they really need to get a life.” He said dryly and chuckled when his mother began to admonish him. “Oh mam, I’ve got to go, I’m almost late for filming, I’ll call you later.”

“That sounds like a cop out if I’ve ever heard one Remus Lupin, but I’ll let you go anyways. Good luck today, I love you.”

“Love you too mam. Talk soon, bye bye.” He pressed the end call button and lay with his phone on his chest for a moment before actually checking the time. He had about an hour before he was expected on set. He rolled out of bed with a groan and headed into the shower.

Remus quite literally ran into Sirius.

“Oh shit sorry!” He cried as they collided. Sirius caught Remus’ wrist to steady himself and held on for a split second before letting go.

“In a hurry Lupin?”

Remus flushed a little, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah I was supposed to meet Lily at the door five minutes ago but I got caught up.”

Sirius just maintained eye contact for a moment before reaching out and touching the sleeve of Remus’ cream knit sweater. “This is nice.”

Remus lost his words. “Oh um, thank you. I made it actually.”

Sirius quirked a smile. “A baker and a knitter? You’re a real home-boy.”

Remus laughed a little. “Yeah you could definitely say that. I knit when I’m watching TV or whatever, I hate when I don’t have something to do with my hands. ‘Idle hands’ and all that.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Remus said, shrugging him off despite the fact that he was possibly about to lose his mind. The Sirius Black was teasing him.

“Anyways, I should probably go.” He said, ducking his head. “Lily’s waiting for me.”

“And we’ve got a show to get to.” Sirius added.

“Yeah,” Remus smiled. “Yeah we do.”

“Hello and welcome back everyone, to this week’s episode of The Great British Bake Off.” James said grandly as soon as Marlene had signalled that she was recording. “This week, it’s bread week.”

Remus sighed. He fucking loved bread. He was coeliac, so he didn’t eat bread but… he fucking loved bread.

“For our first challenge,” Sirius announced, “Our judges would like to see two plaited loaves. Any flavouring is up to you, but each loaf should be twelve inches in length with clear, defined plaits.”

The bakers all nodded and the camera panned around the room to catch everyone’s reactions.

“Alright then, Sirius, dough you want to tell them to begin?”

Remus bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. That pun was so cringy but Remus was a sucker for bad jokes.

“Why yes James, I most certainly dough. Three, two one… Bake!”

Marlene started her rounds today by coming straight to Remus.

“So Remus, what’re you making today?” James asked, appearing by his side.

“Well the first one, is going to have basil and some tomato sauce and then have some mozzarella plaited in.” Remus said as he took out a glass bowl and began adding ingredients to it. “Then the second one is going to have four different kinds of cheese in it.”

“So basically, no one who’s lactose intolerant can go anywhere near your bread.”

Remus laughed and scratched his cheek. “Pretty much. But I mean, neither of them will be gluten free, so I can’t eat them either.”

James grinned. “I suppose I’ll just have to be your official taste tester then.”

“You know, those already exist. They’re called judges.” Remus chirped and Sirius who was passing laughed, shooting Remus an appreciative look.

James moved on to Lily and Remus could hear her telling him about her toffee bread. Remus had seen her practicing it - it always looked amazing and the other contestants had raved about it. Remus had gotten the recipe from her and he was going to try to make a gluten-free version when all of this was over.

Remus covered the bowls with a layer of cellophane and put them in the proving drawer, waiting until they had at least doubled in size before he would take them out again.

In the meantime, Remus got busy finely chopping fresh basil, making a tomato sauce and slicing mozzarella.

“Looking good, Lupin.” Sirius said, jumping up to sit on the end of Remus’ bench, away from the food.

“Why thank you.” Remus said then had to slap Sirius’s hand away when he tried to steal a slice of cheese. “Oi, get away you cheeky bugger.”

Sirius shrugged,” I’m just trying to relieve James of his official taste tester duties.”

“You’re trying to relieve yourself from your stomach grumbling is more like.” Remus shot back, but he held out a chopping board with his many different cheeses all neatly sliced and grinned. “Go on then, you can have one.”

Sirius’s eyes glimmered. “You know, I quite like you Lupin.” He said, before hopping off the table and wandering away.

“It’s a good thing I quite like cheese Mr Lupin.” Dumbledore said in an almost teasing tone as they reached Remus’ bench to judge. They cut the first loaf and each had a taste.

“I think I would have liked it to have stayed in the oven for a little longer.” McGonagall said, “It’s just missing the really crusty outside we were looking for. But the flavours are wonderful, I quite like the concept.”

“And I, as the official taste tester, i think it’s amazing.” James said, stealing a slice and there were a couple of giggles around the tent. Even Remus cracked a smile.

“Let’s move on to the next one, shall we?” Remus just nodded, his jaw clenched as he listened. This time, the knife made a much more satisfying sound as it cut through the bread. Remus couldn’t help but sigh a little in relief, his eyes trained on the loaf to see if the bake was even.

“Now, this one is much better.” Dumbledore said before he took a bite. His eyes fluttered closed as he chewed and Remus pursed his lips together to stop himself from smiling. “Very enjoyable Mr Lupin, I can’t find a fault with this one.”

McGonagall nodded in agreement and with that they moved over to Lily’s bench. Remus sat down on his stool with a sigh, his shoulders slumping.

“Hey, good job. ”Sirius whispered as he passed and Remus smiled. Yeah, he quite liked bread.

“Ah look at little Remus, eating his salad.” Tonks teased, ruffling his hair as she plopped down on the chair next to him. Remus scowled. “Believe me, if I could be eating bread like the rest of you lot, I would be.”

“Alas, alack!” A guy Peter, another contestant proclaimed. “We get to eat your bread though. It’s so good mate, much better than that sad lump I presented.”

Everyone around the table started sniggering. Peter had had a bit of an accident resulting in burned bread. It was edible, but it really hadn’t looked like much.

“I’m really going to have to up my game in the next two challenges.” He moaned. “I really don’t want to go home yet.” They all nodded in agreement and the table went quiet for a moment as everyone thought while they munched.

“What a rowdy bunch you lot are.” Sirius said, he and James each pulling up a chair. ”Can we…?” He asked, pointing to the selection of breads, all sliced in the middle of the table.

“Yeah of course,” Remus said. “They’re there to eat.”

Remus certainly didn’t that Sirius immediately went for one of the loaves he made. Nope. Not at all.

“So how are we all feeling about the next challenge?” James asked, tearing parts off his hunk of bread and popping them into his mouth.

“Oh my god, new rule.” Tonks declared. “No competition talk when we’re on our breaks. I need to talk about something other than the ratio of sugar to flour.”

Sirius chuckled at her abruptness. “Fair enough. Let’s see… What are your favourite colours?”

“Basic question.” Tonks countered, leaning back in her chair, “But I’ll take it. Mine is pink.”

“Really? I never would have guessed.” Remus said dryly, gesturing to her hair. Lily choked on her food.

“What’s yours then Remus?” Tonks challenged.

Remus shrugged. “I don’t have a favourite, I like them all.”

“Even brown?” Peter piped in.

“Especially brown. It’s the colour of chocolate. It’s also like the most hated colour, it needs some appreciation.”

“It’s one of the most hated colours because it’s boring. Like is there any colour more dull than brown?” James asked.

“Beige.” Lily said and James pointed a finger at her, indicating that she had made a valid point. “Okay, that’s very fair. Beige is boring as fuck.”

“I can’t believe this is a conversation we’re having.” Sirius mused and Remus looked at him incredulously. “You’re the one who started it!”

“I asked for favourite colours, not the opposite. It was you who set us on this dull - coloured path.” Sirius counted, his eyes playful. Tonks looked between the two of them for a moment before checking her watch.

“I hate to be the one to break up the band but, it’s time for us to get back to it.”

“Ah, the woes of the working life.” Sirius lamented and Remus snorted.

“Oh hush, you have like, the best job ever.”

Sirius threw his arm around James’ shoulders. “That’s very true. Come on then Jamie, let’s get back to it.”

“Our next challenge, is of course our technical.” James announced as the cameras began rolling. “This week, our judges have asked you to make bagels.”

“You should have five identical bagels at the end. Your instructions are on your bench.”

“Ready?”

“Set.”

“Bake!”

Remus lifted the cloth that was covering the ingredients and recipe McGonagall and Dumbledore had written for them. He both loved and hated the technical, possibly for the same reasons. The steps were vague and needed a lot of thought which was pretty annoying but it challenged him and pushed him to see what kind of baker he was.

“You ever made these?” Lily asked and Remus shook his head. “No, never. You?”

“Nope.” She said, popping the ‘p’. “This should be interesting.”

Remus chuckled as he began reading the instructions. make a dough, it read.

“Don’t you love how specific these instructions are?” Remus said to Tonks sarcastically and some of her hair fell out of her comically short ponytail as she laughed.

“This dough is meant to be stretchy I think.” Lily commented and Remus nodded his head. “Yeah, I’ve heard that too.”

Remus set to work, covering his dough in cellophane once more and popping it into the proving drawer.

“You know I could really get used to this proving business,” he commented, “It gives me the chance to make a cup of tea.”

“Glad to see you have your priorities.” Sirius joked as he appeared. “Any chance I can have one too?” Remus just nodded to the bench in response, where he had already taken out a mug for Sirius.

Sirius finished making the tea as Remus took out a pot, filled it with water and put it on the hob to boil. Just then a panicked wail sounded through the tent.

“Oh lord, I’ve just gone and dropped my dough. Repeat, I dropped my dough.”

James was immediately at his side to help him figure it out. They chatted intensely for a minute, the cameras circling like vultures as Peter forlornly tossed the ruined dough in the bin, but began to make a new one. Remus let out a shaking breath on his friends behalf, Peter would really be racing against the clock.

“It’s make it or break it time.” Remus said, turning back to his own work , decking to focus on that for now. His thoughts wouldn’t help Peter and all Remus could do right now was work on his own project. Having divided his dough and rolled it into shape, he boiled them one by one, praying he was doing the right thing. “And now you fuckers are going in the oven.”

“Oh my god Remus.” Marlene said. “We had great footage of you there and you totally just ruined it.”

“Sorry sorry, I’ll do it again.” Remus smirked and slid the tray into the oven. “And now you little shits are going in the oven.”

Marlene just turned around and left as Sirius’ laugh filled the tent.

Remus walked up to the table to present his baking to be judged. As per the rules, he placed the plate down behind his picture and sat in one of the stools lined up, facing the table. McGonagall and Dumbledore arrived, looking much to chipper for Remus liking, not when he was struggling not to start biting his nails. He chose instead to pick at the hem of his jumper until Lily took his hand in hers. He was grateful - he really liked this jumper.

Peter was disappointed but not at all surprised when his bagels hadn’t risen enough. How could they have when making a second batch had essentially cut out the proving process. Tonks’ were a bit too small. Lily’s were a bit too chewy. Remus bit his lip to stop himself from beaming when his were the best of the bunch. Still not perfect, not by a long shot, but he had won the technical challenge and his relief sent him out of the tent, unable to lessen the grin on his face as Marlene questioned him.

“How are you feeling, after today?”

“I’m feeling pretty good! I got off to a bit of a rocky start today, but I think I recovered well so I’m looking forward to sinking my teeth into the challenge tomorrow.”

Marlene gave him a thumbs up and wandered away to find some of the others.

“Well done Mr Technical Challenge!” Lily cried, slinging her arm around his waist as they began to walk back to the hotel.

“Why thank you, Ms Star Baker.”

“We make quite the pair.” Lily observed.

“That, my dear Lily, we most certainly do.”

Remus woke up in Lily’s room.

“Ugh, that alarm is so loud.” Remus groaned and ignored Lily giggling at him.

“I can’t believe how much you’re not a morning person, you seem like you’re hungover or something.”

“I am hungover as a result of life, Lily.” He muttered. “Existing is exhausting.”

“By god, you really are dramatic in the morning.” She gathered up a towel and some toiletries. “I’m going for a shower and to get ready. Meet you for breakfast in twenty?”

Remus nodded in agreement, shoved on his shoes and started gathering the one or two belongings he had. He hadn’t meant to sleep in Lily’s room, but they had stayed up so late talking the pair had just drifted off. It had been the best night Remus had spent her so far - he and Lily curled up under a pile of blankets, each nursing a mug of hot chocolate as they gossiped like school girls.

Remus stepped out the door and very closely avoided a collision with Sirius.

“I’m getting a freaky sense of deja vu right now.” Remus said, grinning.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “This… isn’t your room.”

Remus shook his head as they began walking down the corridor. “Nah, it’s Lily’s, I’m heading back to mine now.”

“You and… Lily?”

Remus choked as he realized what Sirius was thinking. “No, no, God no. I mean, Lily’s fantastic but no. We’re just friends, we fell asleep talking.”

Sirius’ shoulders almost seemed to visibly lighten. “Oh right, yeah.”

Remus grinned and nudged Sirius’ shoulder with his own playfully. “Lily’s not really my type.”

“Oh yeah? What is your type then?”

“Oh you know… not women.”

Sirius smirked and looked at Remus sideways. “Now that, sounds like something I quite relate to.”

Remus slowed to a stop as they reached his door. “I suppose I’ll see you in the tent?”

“That seems pretty unavoidable, doesn’t it?” Sirius threw him a cheeky wink and turned on his heel, continuing down the hall. Remus would be lying if he said he didn’t watch him walk away.

“Welcome back for our showstopper challenge!” Sirius said, smiling at all the contestants.

“This will be your second showstopper, so get ready.”

“That’s right,” James continued, “This week's challenge will be to bake pull apart rolls.”

“Jamie, are you sure you have the right challenge? That doesn’t sound very showstopper like.”

“Why thank you Sirius, you’d be right. I did forget to mention that your rolls should make the shape of your favourite animal.”

Remus rolled his eyes at the obviously pre prepared banter and yet he found himself smiling anyways.

“Ready.”

“Set.”

“Bake!”

Remus immediately set to work, knowing exactly what he wanted to do and how to do it, however he had been cutting it quite close on time every time he had practised, so he wanted to work as quickly as possible to allow for all and any mishaps that tended to happen under pressure.

He made, proved and rolled out his dough in record time and was now assembling the little rolls into the shape he wanted. He was shading the top with poppy and sesame seeds and stepped back for a moment to admire his handy work. He was in no way close to an artist, except for when it came to baking. If his canvas was starch and glucose, he might as well be Michelangelo.

He made one or two more adjustments before putting it in the oven for thirty minutes. That still gave him twenty minutes to spare, making this the fastest he had ever completed his challenge. Maybe the pressure had its benefits after all

“Oh fuck.” He heard Lily say from behind him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” She cried, her time getting more and more panicked.

“Lily?” Remus asked, whirling around in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I forgot to turn the oven on.” She whispered, her face pale.

“You… What?”

“I forgot to turn the oven on! Remus I’m screwed this won't heat up for at least ten minutes and I have fifty minutes of work left at least!

Remus wasn’t sure what overcame him in that moment, maybe some panicked curled hormones but suddenly he was in full disaster mode.

“Okay,” he muttered, opening his own oven and adding another wire rack. “Okay Lily, put yours in here with mine while your oven heats up. It’s not ideal, I know but it’ll get you started.”

“Remus Lupin.” Lily declared as she collected her tray and walked around her own bench to reach him. “You are my literal hero.”

She lifted herself up on her tip toes and kissed him on the cheek swiftly before putting her doe - shaped dough in the oven and racing back to her own workspace to turn hers on.

Remus let out a shaky breath as he sat down for a moment. It was such a simple mistake that could happen to any of them. Remus vowed to himself to be extra vigilant from now on and to never assume he did anything on muscle memory. Here everything was strange and new and it could quite throw off your routine, especially if you’re used to working consistently in one particular venue.

“That, Mr Lupin, was quite the save.” Sirius commented, swooping in like he always did. Remus smiled weakly and ran his fingers through his hair. Just then Lily appeared again and took her bread out of the oven.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She cried as she dashed back to work, putting her bread in her own oven with a deafening clang.

“Thirty five minutes left!” Sirius called and Remus stood up cracking his knuckles. He could chat to Sirius later, right now? He still had a little work to do. He grabbed the little bit of extra dough he had set aside in the fridge and set to work.

“Mr Lupin, if you would please bring your challenge up to the table.” McGonagall called and even in his mild panic, Remus could still take a moment to appreciate the lovely lilt in her words.

He set his baking down on the table and stepped back to look at his work - a wolf, howling at a full moon.

“The moon detailing is quite clever Mr Lupin.” Dumbledore said and Remus sighed in relief. It had been the little bit of dough he had set aside - put in the oven later to account for it’s smaller size.

“It certainly looks excellent, but the question stands; how does it taste.

“Remus winced as they pulled apart his, frankly, perfect design and each took a bite. Dumbledore gave him a broad smile and Remus bit his lip, grinning.

“I think you’ll find we’re very pleased Mr Lupin. These truly are very good.”

Remus could actually pay attention to the rest of the assessments after that thrilling review. He watched Peter present his rat bread (side note - what in the world had possessed him to make food in the shape of a rat?), Lily displayed her doe which had turned out very well in the end and some guy even made an alpaca. Remus didn’t know that dude too well yet, but he thought his name was Benji.

They all sat once more on the stools lined up at the front of the tent while the judges made their decisions. James and Sirius regaled them all with stories from their childhood while they waited,

“And then what do you know?” James cried, his hands flying everywhere as he told the story. “I look up, and there’s Sirius, hanging out the second floor window with his trousers down around his ankles.”

The entire room burst out laughing, Remus was pretty sure there were tears streaming down his face.

“But what made you think that would be a good idea?” Remus wheezed, still unable to breathe properly for all his laughing, but desperate to get a look into teenage Sirius’ state of mind.

Sirius just shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” He admitted sheepishly and that set everyone off into another round of deafening laughter, when the judges walked in and they all sobered quite quickly.

James and Sirius conferred with them quietly in the corner a moment before walking back over to the contestants.

“Today, I have the absolute pleasure of announcing our star baker.” Sirius said, looking around the room with a small smile. “Our star baker this week is…” Sirius scanned the crowd for a moment before his eyes landed on Remus. “Remus.”

Remus didn’t even move. He wasn’t even sure he could if he had wanted to. He had won star baker.

“Which leaves me with the awful job of announcing who’s leaving us today.” James said in a flat tone but Remus didn’t even hear or register that some guy Fabien was leaving. He was just another baker Remus didn’t even know that well. But he was star baker. Lily pulled him into a hug and held him tight. The room around him was filled with pats on the back and congratulations and Sirius looked him right in the eye and mouthed well done.

Remus was pretty sure he wanted to live in this moment forever.

“Remus, would you be alright calling your family on camera? We’d just like to capture their reaction.”

Remus nodded and rang his mom. She answered on the first ring. “Hi, Ma?” Guess what?”

“What is it love, how did your day go?”

“I won star baker.”

Marlene giggled behind the camera as Hope let out a series of delighted yells. Remus laughed along with her for a moment. “Okay mam, I’ve got to go finish my interview, but I’ll call you later, okay?”

He said his goodbyes, hung up the phone and turned back to the camera. “So Remus, what were you thinking throughout the challenges?”

“Well after the first one, I kept thinking I’m going home for sure. But obviously I recovered a bit.”

“A bit? Marlene chuckled. “From going home to star baker. I’d say you recovered quite a lot.”

Remus chatted with Marlene for a few more minutes before she sent him away, claiming she had taken up enough of his time. Just as he was beginning to leave, Sirius sidled up to him.

“Well, if it isn’t the brightest star.” Remus teased.

“I think that today,” Sirius countered, “That would be you.”

Remus blushed and looked down at his feet. “Want to walk back to the hotel?

Sirius smiled. “That sounds like a plan.”

#let them eat cake #bake off au #wolfstar #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin/Sirius Black #wolfstar au #tgbbo #the great british bake off

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xofanfics · 4 years

Text

String - Part I

Prologue | Part I | Part II | Part III

Genre: angst, fluff, SMUT

Pairing: Baekhyun x Female Reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You find yourself in a friends-with-benefits situation with your best friend. You have no business falling for him, but your heart begs to differ.

Your phone vibrated on your nightstand and Baekhyun’s picture popped up on your screen. You smiled and your heart fluttered as you raised your phone to your ear and heard Baekhyun’s sweet voice on the other end. He said, “Guess who’s back?”

You sat up in your bed with a yawn. “What time did you get in?”

“About five this morning. Did I wake you? It’s a little after seven.”

“Kind of...but it’s okay. I have to get up for work soon,” you said. “I’m glad you got back safely.”

“When am I gonna see you?”

“Are you free tonight? Let’s get tacos after work. I get out at five.”

“Taco Tuesday, huh?”

“Yeah. We have to enjoy our free time for the next week before classes start, right?”

“Yeah. I think I’m gonna take a nap. I’m so jetlagged.”

“Get some sleep. I think I’m gonna go back to sleep, too.”

“Good. See you later, cutie.”

You made your way to the restaurant. Situated near Times Square, you pushed past tourists and ignorant people that had no idea of the unwritten rules of walking around in New York City with a roll of your eyes. The restaurant you’d agreed on wasn’t anything fancy by any means. To be completely honest, their guacamole wasn’t good but their drink specials were better. With just a twenty dollar bill, you could have four margaritas if you wanted.

You went inside, showing the bouncer your ID before getting seated at a table. You knew it would start getting crowded soon as people started pouring in for happy hour specials.

Your phone vibrated on the table with a text from Baekhyun saying he was a block away. Your heart fluttered at the very thought of him. It had been three months since you saw him last but he’d still made time for you while he was in Korea. He still Facetimed you when he could, with the thirteen hour difference and all. He told you some things but you were excited to hear about his trip anyway. It had been a long time; three months too long since you’d seen him face-to-face. You couldn’t wait to see his face, to hear his voice, to feel his touch.

You ordered two frozen margaritas, in anticipation of Baekhyun’s arrival. You knew that he preferred them frozen and it was even better since it was so hot out today. And a few minutes after the waiter left to put in your drink order, you saw a familiar face coming through the door.

He showed the bouncer his ID before glancing around the restaurant looking for you. He didn’t find you immediately, his eyes darting from right to left, right to left. Your eyes met his a few seconds later as he made his way toward the back of the restaurant and he smiled brightly. You stood up in anticipation and he hugged you tightly, wrapping his arms around you. He’d never hugged you this hard and your heart was two seconds from exploding, with all of the pieces falling onto the dirty, wood floors of the Mexican restaurant.

“How’s my favorite girl?” he asked, pulling away with that warm smile you loved so much.

You broke out into a huge smile, one that you were sure your face was turning shades of red. “She’s good.”

He planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek before sitting down at the table. “Did you order something already?”

“Two margaritas coming right up,” you said, pointing to the waiter walking toward the table.

Baekhyun laughed as the man placed the drinks in front of you. “This is more like it. I’m glad you got frozen ones. It’s so hot outside today, I almost melted on the walk over from the train.”

You took your margarita glass and raised it up. “Cheers!”

“Cheers to the little bit of summer we have left.”

“That, too.” You took a gulp of the margarita and added, “So tell me about your trip. How was your summer in Korea?”

“It was great. It’s a beautiful place. I think you’d like it a lot. You’ve never been to Asia at all, right?”

“Nope. I want to go to a bunch of countries in Asia though. The closest to Korea I’ve been is Koreatown.”

Baekhyun scoffed. “That’s nothing. It has a similar vibe but Korea is way better. And so much cheaper. In Korea, you can get barbeque for around twelve dollars instead of paying four times that here.” He shook his head. “Food is cheaper, the streets aren’t dirty, and bubble tea is better, too. I got you a gift but I left it at home. I was halfway to the train station when I remembered.”

And with that, his story began. He talked about the foods he ate and the ones he thought you would like. He talked about the nightlife and how the party doesn’t stop until at least six in the morning, when the trains start running again. He mentioned his family and how he got to see his cousins that he hadn’t seen in years. He talked about all of the things he saw in Korea that he didn’t get to before. You watched his facial expressions while he talked. They were so pure, his dark eyes full of excitement, wonder, and awe.

“One day, I’ll take you to see Korea. I’ll show you everything.”

Two margaritas later, you were feeling the tequila in your core. The drinks were cheap and, surprisingly, they packed a punch. Baekhyun was feeling it too; You could tell in his eyes that he was tipsy and having a good time. His face was starting to glow a little and he was talking more loudly than usual.

You were excited to finally be with Baekhyun again; it was more than just the sex that you missed about him. You’d never felt like this with anyone. You and Baekhyun had so much chemistry. To you, he was perfect in every way. Even when he was being annoying or pissing you off your heart still fluttered the same, your knees weak.

You’d been with other guys but none of them could compare to what you had with Baekhyun. No man had ever treated you in the ways he had, even from before you’d had sex with him for the first time. As your best friend, he was always there for you and he never changed. Other guys before Baekhyun couldn’t compare. You swiped back and forth on dating apps, hoping to come across someone different but you never did.

You thought about what you said before he left, about dating officially when he got back from Korea. You were excited for him to be back. Now, you could be together for real. You had fallen hard for Baekhyun and being away from him for three whole months had been so difficult. Everyday you woke up, wishing that Baekhyun was holding you. With every passing day, you’d missed Baekhyun more and more, longing for a text from him, longing to see his Instagram stories he’d posted while you were sleeping. Now you understood how hard it was to maintain long distance relationships. Not being able to see or call Baekhyun whenever you wanted was strange. But you made it this far and, well, here he was.

Part of you wondered what he did in Korea. Did he sleep with other women? Baekhyun wasn’t the type to sleep around but he was flirty. The thought of him flirting with other women didn’t bother you. It was the thought of him touching someone else in the ways he’d touched you. It was the thought of him thrusting into someone else and making them feel good that made you feel uneasy. But Baekhyun wasn’t the kind of guy to sleep with as many women as he could; it just wasn’t in him to do it. Even with his good looks, it wasn’t in him.

You pushed those silly thoughts out of your head as the waiter brought the bill. Baekhyun took out his wallet, pulling out his credit card. “My treat.” He grabbed the check and paid for the drinks.

“Thank you.” You smiled. “Are you hungry? I’m starving.”

“I’m always hungry,” he said. “How about we get some tacos that are actually good?”

You stood up, grabbing your bag. “What about that place near school?”

“Sounds good. Let’s go,” he said, standing from his seat. He left a few dollar bills on the table and followed you out into the August heat.

Baekhyun put his arm around you as you walked to the train station, turning toward you. “I missed you. Korea would’ve been way better if you were there…”

“I missed having you around,” you said. “My other friends are great but they suck at being spontaneous. I miss our random trips around the city, even if it's two in the morning and we just wanted pancakes.”

“Well now we have plenty of time,” he said. “We should make a list of things we wanna do. And cross each thing off, one by one. Like the aquarium. Have you ever been to the aquarium? The one in Brooklyn?” You shook your head. “Yeah, let’s do that before school starts. We have a little over a week until the first day of classes.”

You said, “It’s free on Wednesdays.”

“Wednesday it is, then.”

You were excited to try new things with Baekhyun. While it was still warm out, you wanted to hang out with him as much as you could. New York is a beautiful place to be in the summer, you thought, but the winter months are hard to enjoy when the temperature drops under twenty degrees or so. But maybe this winter would be a little warmer with Baekhyun by your side.

His lips crashed into yours as you stepped into Baekhyun’s room. He shut the door behind him and whispered against your mouth, “God, I missed your pretty little lips…”

You smiled and pressed your lips to his. As he put his tongue in your mouth, you could taste the beer he’d had. You explored every inch of each other’s mouths as you peeled each others’ clothes off. You said, “Let’s shower…”

He smiled and followed you into the bathroom, watching your naked body from behind. He shut the door behind him as you turned the water on. When you turned around, you were met with a smirk.

You said, “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. I just haven’t seen you naked in a while.”

“Those nudes I sent you weren’t enough?”

“Nope,” he said, stepping closer to you. As the water ran, he stared at you for a moment. It had been a long three months and he was ready to devour you. He decided against giving into any animalistic urges he had, deciding that he wanted to take his time with you tonight. He wanted to give you a huge dose of what exactly you’d been missing. Your body was everything he could’ve wanted.

He caressed your face, looking into your eyes. He planted a sweet kiss on your lips and ran his fingers down your neck and to your breasts. He ran his thumb over your nipples, sending chills up your spine. His touch made you go into a frenzy. Your mind began getting overrun with images of all the dirty things you wanted to do to him at this moment. You wanted to forget the shower and fuck him right here on the bathroom floor.

As he moved down further and further to your sweet spot, you bit your lip in anticipation. But he stopped before he could touch you there and opened the shower curtain, motioning for you to get in. You pouted and got inside. Baekhyun joined you, caressing your hips from behind.

Baekhyun washed you up first, taking a little extra time down there, running his soapy fingers back and forth against your lips. You bit your lip, trying your best to keep it together. But Baekhyun knew you better than that. He knew that you were loving this and couldn’t wait to get you on your back to really make you feel good.

You washed Baekhyun up in turn, running your hands all over his body. Sometimes he let out a small sigh, especially when you were rubbing his balls. Baekhyun was impatient. He wanted you and he wanted you now.

You’d barely dried off before Baekhyun was feeling you up, his hands going wild across your naked body. You missed this; you missed the way he always paid attention to you and how you responded.

You followed Baekhyun into his bedroom. He sat on the bed and you crawled into his lap, kissing him.

“I missed you,” you said.

“I missed you too,” he said, between kisses. He pushed you backward into the bed and got on top of you. “I missed the taste of you too. Come sit on my face.”

You smirked as you positioned yourself above Baekhyun’s face. Before you could balance yourself on the bed, Baekhyun had already grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his tongue. You held onto the wall for support. His mouth covered your lips and then he started feeling around the area with his tongue. Then he started attacking your clit roughly. He obviously didn’t forget how you liked it. He licked and lapped up every drop of wetness that leaked from your body. You moaned and body writhed as he ate you out.

Then, you got off of him and turned your attention to his rock-hard dick. You repositioned yourself above Baekhyun and you both went at it. You sucked his dick the way he liked it, nice and slow while you rubbed his balls. And he slowed down on your clit. The last thing he wanted to do was deplete you of your energy. He would tease you and drag it out until you came undone all over him.

Baekhyun pulled away and said, “You’re so ready for me.” He felt your pussy with his finger, swiping across it to feel how wet you were. With that, he flipped you over onto your back and hovered over you. You could feel how wet you were, how Baekhyun made a mess of you. He smirked and bent down to kiss you as he rolled a condom on. Within the same minute, he pushed inside of you.

Your lips parted in a low moan. You missed this feeling, this feeling of Baekhyun stretching you out and filling you up. He cursed under his breath as he began to thrust in and out of you, slowly but surely. His chest was against yours, his head in your neck. He planted a few kisses on your neck between heavy breaths. A few moments later, after teasing you with slow thrusts, he began to pick up the pace with short, deep strokes.

To be honest, Baekhyun was close. He knew that if he’d started pounding you from the first thrust, he’d come in ten seconds. So, he kept it cool and thrusted slowly. Plus, he wanted you to get off as well. And with women, he knew that perfect timing was the key to a clitoral orgasm. He thrusted again, sure to rub his body up against your clit. By now, he knew that this was one of your weaknesses and he could tell with the way you were moaning from underneath him.

He could feel your body shaking from underneath him and the scratches you were leaving across his back. He couldn’t see your face from this angle but he had an idea. He pictured this in his head as he thrusted into you.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

He turned to give you a kiss on your neck. “You feel so fucking good...”

Baekhyun lifted himself up, leaving you on your back. Then he lifted both of your legs up and over his shoulder. He started pounding you, sending you into a frenzy of moans. You let out a string of obscenities as he thrust into you harder. Baekhyun knew you were close; he started rubbing your clit. Your moans got louder, to the point where he thought that maybe his roommates would be able to hear. He didn’t care. All he needed was for you to come.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come Baekhyun…”

“Good,” he said, rubbing your clit even harder with his thumb. “Come for me.”

You were just a few seconds from losing yourself. You were blinded by pleasure as he thrusted and rubbed your clit at the same time. It had been so long since you came like this, being away from each other for three months. You held onto his arm as he pounded you and rubbed your clit like crazy. You were biting your lip to stop yourself from screaming out too loudly.

Baekhyun said, “Let’s come together baby.” He was watching your tits bounce as he was pounding you and the sight was starting to become too much for him.

At his prompt, you started coming. And Baekhyun knew this. You became a mess of moans and squeals as you came. Baekhyun followed, collapsing on top of you after a final, guttural groan.

The room was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing. Baekhyun gave you a kiss before pulling out of you. The condom was filled with Baekhyun’s seed. He let out a laugh. “Wow, this is what happens when you go three months without sex, huh?”

You smiled and sat up in the bed as Baekhyun put the condom in the garbage. He disappeared into the closest and came back with a stuffed plush cat. “I got you this in Korea.”

“Aw,” you said, taking it from him. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. I wasn’t going to come back from Korea without a gift for my best friend.”

You got up to put on one of Baekhyun’s T-shirts. Baekhyun bit his lips as he saw you change. He loved to see you in his clothes. You joined him in the bed. You held the plushie, putting it in between you and Baekhyun. He chuckled. “So now I have to cuddle the cat too?”

“Yep,” you said, rolling over onto your side. And with that, Baekhyun took the plushie and tossed it to the other side of the room.

“Hey!”

#baekhyun #baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #exo angst #exo fluff #exo smut #kpop angst #kpop smut #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #exo imagines #exo scenarios #exo reactions #baekhyun imagines #baekhyun scenarios

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kotoplasm · 3 years

Text

inner turbulence

summary: hinata shoyo is an empathetic person. he didn’t need to go through pain to understand another person’s pain. all he needed to understand was perspective. and that was all there was to it.

in japan, the legal age that entitles a person to enter the mafia was unknown. all that was known was once you were recruited, any past experiences, memories and relationships were all lost once you started training.

unlike most, hinata was lucky. most of his friends were already accustomed to the culture so the cutting of other relationships didn’t feel like such a heavy burden.

all he needed to understand was that in some instances, two wrongs do make a right. and in his case, that came in the form of bloodshed.

it’s twelve am in the country he’s returning from.

the last station had been a false alarm so their journey of three days had been for nought. besides from the odd stares for his brightly coloured hair and unexpected optimism, the assignment hadn’t been too taxing, just a few checkups here and there - he wouldn’t even be on this vehicle if it weren’t for miya’s laziness and tendency to take full advantage of the seniority role.

“it’s tradition to make the newbie take all the assignments at first for a week.” he could see the sympathetic glances from his other teammates and clearly this was a regular occurrence.

he’s forcing his eyes to remain awake despite the unholy hour it was, letting his thumb scroll through countless socials and trying to still submerge himself into his previous life, one that wasn’t filled with so many abnormalities and secrets.

if he concentrates long enough, sometimes he can still hear his sister nagging him for leaving without any further notice, leaving his mother distraught. it makes his heart heavy with emotions he doesn’t particularly enjoy experiencing nor speaking too much about but he knew there wasn’t anything he could do about that.

it’s ten minutes past 3 when he finally dozes off, the phone slipping out of the grip of his fingertips slightly and resting comfortably in his palms. with the position he was sleeping in, there was no doubt that he’ll have to find time to stretch all his limbs out.

ten minutes then twenty minutes go by before his phone vibrates. the sound is deep and hollow but ten seconds follow after that, the sound reverberating in his ears.

it takes five vibrations for hinata to wake up, brushing away the particles of sleep that had accumulated, telling him that his body had finally managed to rest.

miya atsumu: yer awake?

miya atsumu: oi

miya atsumu: i know yer ignorin’ me

miya atsumu: at least respond!

miya atsumu: answer the phone dammit!

if he wasn’t so tired, he would have scowled. following on from that, he would have preferred to ignore the message but seeing as miya didn’t look to be stepping down from texting him, it didn’t look like the conversation would die down anytime soon.

hinata shoyo: it’s 3am

miya atsumu: and it’s midday in japan. time zones exist

hinata’s lips pull into a pout. if you know that, then why are you even texting me at this time.

hinata shoyo: what is it?

miya atsumu: well i can’t discuss it over the phone cos of security issues and that but we’ve got another assignment

what?

hinata shoyo: wdym another assignment? i haven’t even gotten enough rest from this current one!

miya atsumu: well take that up with meian not me.

he knows that it was most likely atsumu who convinced meian to administer this mission not the other way around.

hinata shoyo: when is it?

miya atsumu: twenty-first of june

of all days? assignments would usually take a few hours or possibly a few days; hence why sleep was such an important thing to have if you were doing them back to back. on the plus side, the longer assignments were usually worth a lot more money since not everyone was willing to take them on.

unfortunately miya atsumu wasn’t “everyone” so he brought any new assignment to meian who administers and arbitrates it, resulting in the four of them (i.e. bokuto and sakusa if he was feeling up for it) to set off and complete the task.

on the rare occasion that the assignment could not be completed, a supplementary team would be sent out - something which atsumu never took pride in because it didn’t sit right with him that another person was completing something that he wanted to do initially.

despite being in a group together, they were already ahearsed with his tendencies, hence why they don’t even question his bad mood when they’ve failed their mission.

hinata dozes off after sending another message to miya, briefly telling him that he'll think it over after he returns to the main quarters.

“i hope you’ve been eating properly.” the voice his mother makes is stern and fixed. he wasn’t expecting a call from her at this time, especially since he left without saying goodbye. she was forgiving, but that forgiveness could only get you so far…

hinata replies with a sound that was followed by a breath of relief coming from the other line. “i haven’t changed anything about my diet. just added some more protein and increased my calories by a small amount. nothing too alarming.”

“that’s… good.” it goes silent for a few minutes before she clears her throat. he’s old enough to know that there was something wrong. there was a certain tone that she would take; mannerisms that she would often hint at to let you know that something was bothering her.

natsu wasn’t old enough to understand but when their mother was in this state, any slight tremor could set her off.

“well, i’ve got to unpack my things now so i’ll talk to you soon.” he hopes that’s enough to ward her away. his teeth bite the inner flesh of his cheek. was she satisfied? he hates the idea of treading on eggshells around her but hates lying to her even more.

“yes, i suppose that does take some concentration. i’ll call you again later in the week shoyo. me and natsuo miss you.” don’t say that. “she won’t say it but she misses not having you there to play volleyball with.” please don’t say anything else. “we love you.”

“i love you too.” the line cuts as he discards his phone into the pile of clothes waiting to be folded and put into his wardrobe. saying those three words gets harder every time he has to hear them. hearing those three words gets harder because he knows that she’ll break if he stops saying them.

hinata questions the reason why he decided to work for the mafia.

was it because of the money? the danger? the thrill of becoming a criminal of society? no. it definitely wasn’t any of those reasons. because if you asked anyone here if they were happy, they would struggle to answer truthfully knowing what they knew now.

perhaps that’s why miya lost the spark in his eyes the last time he saw him those few years ago or how bokuto seems less chirpier than usual or why sakusa seems so mellow as opposed to his usual level of aloofness.

as he’s packing away his belongings into their respective slots and drawers, a knock at the door reaches his ears. an infamous splash of blonde catches his peripheral and the ginger is quick to shout a “come in” to allow him to enter.

miya is sporting a black turtleneck and a matching pair of straight leg jeans. out of respect, he removes his shoes to reveal the grey socks that stopped briefly before his ankle.

taking the vacant spot on his bed, he releases a breath of relief.

“so how was the mission?”

“not very eventful. they made a mistake with the request so we still get the money but they’re currently sending out a notice to meian to let him know about the error,” hinata shrugs.

“is that so?” the relaxed tone of his voice irritated hinata for some reason. “anyway, i still need to get yer up to speed with the new assignment.”

“ahh you mean the one that you said you couldn’t tell me about at three o’clock in the morning.”

“how many times do i need to tell yer that it was an honest mistake shoyo?” he hisses. “can we talk about that later though? i still need to explain the details.”

hinata nods, letting miya relax once again.

“okay so i went on an expedition with bokuto a few days ago in regards to a rumour i heard a while back.”

“you mean the one about the daughter of the man that runs that big fire armoury? i thought she died after going missing? isn’t that what the report said?”

“yer really think she died?” miya asks. “because something about that report didn’t sit right with me.”

hinata frowns. “but you’re always saying that and most of the time there isn’t anything wrong.”

“bokuto thought the same actually. he didn’t read through it all but he noticed there was something odd about the dates they wrote down.” hinata turns to hear the sound of papers being ruffled around, looking at the beige coloured file containing a few miscellaneous sheets, held together by a few staples. “turn to the third page. and read out the first two dates.”

the three dates he recalled were said in the following order: “date of birth, 27th december 1996; date of first recorded absence, 20th august 2010; date of recorded death, 23rd december, 2010.” *the dates look normal to me.

“anything weird about those dates?” miya asks to which hinata shakes his head, confused. “that’s what i thought initially until i gave it to bokuto a week ago. he thinks someone tampered with the dates.”

with that, he looks at the report once more, staring at the black print for a straight minute or so until his head pops up like a recoiled spring.

“yeah you’re right! it used to say august instead of december!” he points out. “but why is that significant?”

this idiot notices one small detail and doesn’t even understand the significance behind it? atsumu thinks to himself, narrowing his eyes.

“well don’t yer think it’s odd that her death was recorded just three days after her first absence? in fact, the person must’ve been missing for about six months before they can put it down as a death. only issue is that the paperwork gets really annoying to fill out.” he grimaces. just the thought of all those sheets to sign, read through and tick seemed too tiring for him.

“really? i didn’t know that!”

‘course you didn’t.

“yeah it was something sakusa actually told me during our lunch break. so i brought it up with meian and he said that we could investigate and report any findings.”

“well did you find anything?”

“nothing. even took a train to the north to check but we didn’t find anything,” he sighs. “so we came back to tokyo and decided to treat ourselves with a drink at this club i recently found. they offer shows at night provided that you book in advance.”

“why is any of that important?” says hinata who was aware of the infamous club he was talking about. the one that their head nurse hated because of how uncomfortable the men at that place made her feel. judging from the face of disgust that she made, he could only imagine how horrid the place must be.

“well whilst we were wallowing in self-pity, one of the waitresses caught my eye.” miya smirks and tells him to turn to the first page.

he looks at the picture of the supposedly dead girl. “what’s so special about the photo?” apart from the poor quality of the images, his eyes catch onto the family photo of four individuals, the girl in question standing in the middle.

he doesn’t remember seeing a family photo that looked so hostile.

“every member of that family is identified by this specific tattoo. i don’t know why it’s necessary but whilst that waitress was cleaning, i noticed that she also had a tattoo on the lower side of her navel.”

“that doesn’t sound like a decent thing to do.”

“i didn’t stare okay! it was just a glance. but it looked really similar so i got to thinking and started comparing the image. they looked very very similar.”

miya continues to explain his findings to hinata as he cleans up his room. the conversation lasts for around ten more minutes until he’s finished folding away his clothes and miya is satisfied with what he has to say. compared to other missions, this one seemed like one that he was extremely persistent about completing, the reason unknown to him.

when he feels the bed dip, miya looks at hinata.

“so what do yer think? does it sound cool?”

he shrugs. “i don’t know. just sounds off to me that we’re going to kidnap someone and give them away for some leverage.”

“it’s just something you’ll have to get used to shoyo. things like this are normal.”

he doesn’t reply. instead he flops onto his bed, rubbing strands of his hair away from his face to stare at his ceiling. is this what the mafia was about? getting innocents involved in dark business? treating people like objects? was this something that seemed like fun to him?

conclusion: he couldn’t think of one, to say. says that it’s because his mind wasn’t in that “proper mindset.” [2.2k]

#[ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔ ~ myworks]#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu scenarios #hinata fluff #hinata angst #haikyuu fluff #hinata shoyo #hinata shoyo x reader

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shhhhyoursister · 3 years

Text

okay im gonna post this right before i go to bed because i havent posted new stuff in a while and its like AHH but okay so here is the first of the unfinshied/unedited things ive written, and the first of the two lets say..... niche aus i have.....very niche and very exposing of how much of a loser i am!!

i mentioned this one a few times and before everything got bad in the world i had so many ideas but here yall go here is my beloved davenzi pokemon au i hope all you other losers enjoy

(also please excuse all the brackets i write things out of order but always need to make notes of what happens in between)

Matteo pushed the door open, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and let out a loud yawn as he stretched an arm over his head. He raised the glass of Pinap juice to his mouth and took a sip, smiling around the rim as he looked out at the large meadow behind his house.

The berry trees were growing tall around the perimeter of the fence, patches of grass at various lengths sprouting out of the ground. The large pond off to the side had its own waterfall, a feature his mother was extremely proud of, and he could admit that it added a little something special to the space

It wasn’t much, but they did what they could with what they had. It was enough for the Pokémon they cared for, at least.

At that thought, he felt something tugging at his pants, and he glanced down and smiled at the Vulpix at his feet. Its teeth were caught in the fabric but he reached down to pat it on the head anyway, knowing that was just its way of greeting him. It let go and stood next to him, like it was expecting something.

“What do you want?” he asked, poking it lightly in the side with his foot, and laughed when it rolled onto its back and latched onto it with its paw, and tried to secure its hold with the leg that was missing one. Matteo got it off easy and it sprung back up, ready to play.

He rolled his eyes, and walked further out into the meadow, the Vulpix trotting along happily beside him. There were a few Pokémon that he needed to check on before breakfast for himself or the rest of the Pokémon roaming around the property, and he wanted to get it done fast because the Tauros with the bandage over its eye was snorting at him from over in its usual corner. He quickened his pace.

He was looking for the Luvdisc that his mother had found a few days before, alone and hungry in shallow water, and his eyes scanned over the mostly clear water, trying to catch any sign of the pink water-type swimming around. He saw it just as it darted around a Buizel and behind a rock, seeming to be in much better shape than the day before. He was about to turn and head to the small shed in the back where they kept some of the Pokémon in more serious condition, but he looked up when he heard the door slide open, and his mom call his name.

“Matteo, Jonas is here to say bye!” She yelled out, and he turned and started making his way back.

“I didn’t get to look at the Pachirisu yet.” He said, jogging up to her. She was smiling softly at him, her long brown hair pulled back in a bandana. She was holding a bowl in her arms, no doubt the breakfast she had been making for the Pokémon when he had come downstairs that morning

“Don’t worry about that, go see your friend, and wish him luck!” she said, walking out the back door, “He’s going to battle his next gym leader!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Matteo muttered as he walked past her, setting his glass down as he went.

He found Jonas by the front door, six Pokéballs attached to his waist, and a large bag on his back. He had his Jigglypuff out of its ball by his side, and it started bouncing when Matteo got closer.

“Hey, Luigi!” Jonas exclaimed, pulling him in for a hug, and Matteo squeezed his arms around his backpack. The hug was bittersweet, and he almost didn’t want to let go. He didn’t have many friends in his little town, and his responsibilities at the Pokémon Sanctuary made it difficult to go too far.

“You feeling ready?” Matteo asked, knowing what Jonas was going to say. He had always been confident, and was getting through the gyms at a rapid pace.

“Of course, bro,” he said, grinning and punching Matteo in the arm, “I feel ready to battle anyone after beating that ghost-type gym leader. That was rough, it took me four fucking tries!”

Matteo nodded as Jonas went off. Matteo had heard the stories many times, not just from Jonas, but similar ones from other trainers in his town; the gym leader that happened to be the closest to them also happened to be one of the toughest. His Pokémon were strong, he was strong, but most importantly his connection to each of them was strong. He was admired, envied, and heavily respected.

Nobody knew anything about him, though.

The gym was off deep in the woods, off of one of the random routes running through their town. It was not only hard to find, but hard to navigate, as once one entered it was quite clear that the house was designed to keep people out. There were traps and dead ends and looping hallways that all just led back to the beginning, and Jonas said it took him hours to even find the staircase that led to the gym leader.

“I should be heading off if I want to get to the city before it’s dark,” Jonas said, and extended his arms for another hug. Matteo squeezed him again, and said his own goodbye before Jonas ruffled his hair and went out the door, the Jigglypuff following close behind. Matteo let out a sigh, and walked back through his house.

“Matteo, can you come here a second?” he heard his mother call from the kitchen, and he sighed again and poked his head into the room.

“Yeah, mama?” He asked, itching to get back outside. He had been making progress with the skittish Ponyta that hid whenever anyone else came near it, and he had been wanting to see if it would eat out of his hand that morning.

“You seem sad,” she said, and he stopped himself from rolling his eyes and walked further into the kitchen as she continued, “you’re not usually sad when Jonas or your other friends go off to battle.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to miss him,” he said, knowing that wasn’t all, “last time he left he didn’t come back for a month. And I haven’t seen Abdi or Carlos in longer than that, and I don’t even know where Amira is right now.”

His mother nodded. She had heard him say that before, note that as the reason he was upset anytime the idea of gyms or badges or battling was brought up. She walked over to him and put a hand on his cheek, and smiled gently.

“You know, if you want to take a break from this and train, you can.”

Matteo closed his eyes. It was something she had offered before, and he knew that there was almost no way he would be willing to take her up on it. The sanctuary was too important to him, no matter how much he might’ve wanted a party of his own. He didn’t need his own Pokémon when there were dozens that needed him right at home.

“I’m not going to stop helping you here, mama,” Matteo responded as usual, “this is more important than winning a few gym badges.”

“You wouldn’t even have to stop if you don’t want to,” she said, patting him on the cheek and moving back over to the stove where she was cooking their breakfast, “if you want to do both, find some Pokémon from the sanctuary. I’m sure some of them would be more than happy to battle with you.”

Matteo laughed sarcastically, and then actually thought about what his mother said, and his mouth drew into a line. He didn’t know if he wanted to put that burden on any of the Pokémon that they were caring for, even though he knew in the back of his head that some would be willing and able. He thought about that little Vulpix that would follow behind him and nip at his heels, and the Butterfree that would always swoop over his head and chirp happily at him, and even the Tauros with the eyepatch liked him as long as he was fed.

“I don’t know,” he settled on, and then turned to the door, “I’m going to check on the rest.”

****

Later that night, Matteo was sitting out on the roof outside of his room, after climbing through the window. It looked out over the entire sanctuary, but it was too dark for him to see much. He could see some small ripples in the water in the pond, but beyond that the only thing he could make out were sounds. He could hear something, probably a Rattata or Sandshrew, scratching and digging around the grass, and the melodic chirps of a Kricketot. He heard the same Noctowl as before cooing quietly in one of the trees, and he closed his eyes as a breeze blew by.

They were the sounds he had grown up with. Matteo was raised out in the sanctuary more than he was inside his own home. His mother and father had opened it soon after getting married, had built it into something highly respected in their community. They had a large staff working with them and they would get multiple calls each day from people finding injured Pokémon out in the wild.

There were photo albums full of him as an infant being stared at by a confused Pikachu, being (very carefully) held by a Kangaskhan, laughing as a Ledyba flew overhead. Once he was old enough he started working alongside his parents, and everyone in town loved the Florenzi’s, the couple that would save wild Pokémon with their wild son by their side.

When Matteo was around twelve, things went a little sour. His dad started talking more about battling, and gyms, and how cool it would be to go out and see the world beyond their small town. He tried to convince Matteo that they could go off and battle together, father and son, and when Matteo refused, his father had gone quiet. A few days later, he came down for breakfast to his mother crying, his father’s stuff gone, and six of the Pokémon from the sanctuary missing as well.

He took a deep pull from the joint in his mouth, remembering the fierce promise he had made to himself that morning; he would never, ever, leave his mother like his father did. Battling and gym badges weren’t worth it.

But there was something in the back of Matteo’s head that was starting to get louder as he sat there. Something saying that just going to one gym wouldn’t be the same; he could work at the sanctuary during the day, train with (willing) Pokémon at night, and in a few weeks make the short trip to the ghost-type gym. He wasn’t expecting that he’d win, no matter what gym he went to, but the desire for something more was unfortunately undeniable. Matteo hated what his father did, but could understand the urge to run away.

He stubbed the joint out and took one more look at the sanctuary before going back inside and getting ready for bed. As he climbed under the covers, he realized he made up his mind. His first task for the morning, alongside his usual morning chores, was to see which Pokémon wanted to, and were able to, battle.

****

[Matteo makes a party and its kind of a mishmash of misfits but it’s the best he can do because he doesn't want to go out and catch wild Pokémon especially when he has some that want to battle with him]

[He spends a few weeks training and it's really tough and they aren’t amazing but they're better than he expected, and he doesn't really get why they love him and listen to him the way they do]

[One day he decided that he's ready and he promises his mom that he's gonna be back that night and he goes off to find the ghost type gym]

[He finds the gym and it looks completely abandoned and he has to climb over a gate to get in but he does it and then he has to walk through this super creepy dark place and he's having a rough time and he's getting more and more scared and worried that he's in the wrong place and that what he's doing is a bad idea and that he should just turn around when-]

And then finally, a staircase.

Matteo saw it at the end of the hall and sighed in relief. He was exhausted, glad that his Pokémon were in their Pokéballs so they weren’t as tired as him. He wiped the sweat off of his brow, and then tied his bandana around his head to keep his hair out of his face as he walked towards the stairs. He placed his foot on the first one and winced at the loud creak that came from it. He walked up the stairs carefully, seeing a door as he got closer to the top.

He finally reached the top of the stairway, and his shoulders dropped when he saw the door. There was a board across it, blocking it off, and Matteo felt anger start to bubble up inside him. He had spent hours trying to find the fucking place, had banked on Jonas mentioning a staircase, and had gotten so hopeful when he saw it. He huffed and, like a child, kicked hard at the door. His jaw dropped when it swung open.

He carefully made his way inside, his eyes scanning around the large room, too dark for him to make anything out. There seemed to be a fog making it even harder to see, and he waved his arm in front of him to see if he could clear it away. He took a few steps, and then a few more, and was about to take another when he heard a quiet, “I’d stop there if I were you.”

Matteo’s head snapped up and he froze, unable to tell where the sudden voice came from. He could feel his breathing pick up, and he could even hear it in the silence that followed the voice, and was about to turn and bolt when he heard, also quiet but with a bit of a laugh under it, “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just didn’t want you to fall in.”

Matteo whipped his head around, trying to figure out what he was about to fall in, when it seemed like the fog seemed to thin. He looked around the room as details became clearer, the blueish-green tiles on the walls and the white, chipped paint, and he looked down at his feet and stumbled back a few steps; he was standing right at the edge of what seemed to be a huge, empty, swimming pool.

Well, almost empty. As the fog cleared, Matteo could make out a figure on the other side, who seemed to be sitting on the edge, their feet dangling into the empty space below. He watched the figure kick off the edge and land with a quiet sound a few feet below in the pool itself, and then they started coming closer.

Matteo felt himself get nervous. Not scared, like he had been initially getting to the building, and wandering around in the dark, and when he had first come into the room and seen the fog. He was nervous, because there was no way that this person wasn’t the gym leader, which meant that he was about to battle a gym leader.

“Are you going to come down here?” The voice asked again, definitely coming from the approaching gym leader.

Matteo took a breath before looking around and spotting a ladder that led down into the pool. He made his way over on shaky legs and got himself down as carefully as he could, landing hard on his feet and stumbling a little. He righted himself just as he heard the gym leader stop, and he took another deep breath before looking up.

And he huffed out that breath, because the man standing in front of him had to be a dream, or maybe there was a Pokémon there that had some kind of power that was making him hallucinate, because there was no other explanation for how he was so beautiful. And Matteo knew that he shouldn’t have been focusing on that, but he was only human, and he was very, very gay.

“You’re quiet,” the gym leader said, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling, “you are here to battle, right?”

“Yes, I am,” Matteo said quickly, grabbing a hand around one of the Pokéballs around his waist, “my first one.”

He wanted to slap a hand over his face for saying that. He didn’t think that was good information to tell the person that he was about to battle if he wanted to seem confident, not that that wasn’t already out the window with his obvious panic. He watched the gym leader smile bright, and he wished it didn’t make his stomach jolt the way it did.

“Aw, you chose me to be your first?” he asked, placing a hand over his heart, “I’m honored.”

Matteo smiled. He was funny at least, even if he was going to beat Matteo and his Pokémon within six rounds probably.

“Mostly just out of convenience, this is the gym closest to me.” he explained, not really knowing how much he was supposed to be talking. He had no idea what he was doing, at all, but the gym leader didn’t seem to be rushing anything along.

“That makes sense, I’m not usually the first gym people come to. I don’t know why that is, though,” he stepped back and threw his arms out, “I try to make it nice, you know?”

Matteo snorted, “Yeah, that fence you have to hop to get in is really welcoming, and the board across the door really makes me feel at home.”

The gym leader laughed, and Matteo let himself laugh with him, losing a bit of the nerves he had coming in.

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” he said, and then grabbed a Pokéball seemingly out of thin air, threw it up and then as he caught it turned to Matteo and asked, “so, are you ready for your first battle? I’ll go easy on you.”

He said it was a slightly patronizing grin, so Matteo grabbed his own Pokéball in his hand, tilted his head with a sweet smile and said, “Don’t worry, you don’t have to.”

David looked happily surprised and nodded, and before Matteo could react he threw the Pokéball into the air, and a Mimikyu landed on the ground in front of him. Matteo looked at it in shock.

“You have a Mimikyu?” he asked, wanting to get closer to look. The Pokémon was looking at him, or at least the disguise part was, gently flopping around on top of the Pokémon it was concealing inside.

“Yeah, it was one of my first,” the gym leader said with a small smile, and then shook himself out of it and grinned cocikly, “which means it’s one of my strongest.”

Matteo nodded, and threw his own Pokéball into the air, Vulpix springing onto the ground in front of him. It looked ready, stanced and nose pointed at the Mimikyu in front of it. The battle started when the gym leader called out his first move.

And Matteo lost. Badly, and quickly, and if he wasn’t so worried about getting home so he could tend to his Pokémon he would've been more embarrassed. He dropped to his knees next to his Sandshrew as it trembled on the ground from the last attack laid on it by the gym leader’s second Pokémon.

“That was pretty good for a first try,” he heard echo through the room, and he looked up and pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

“It wasn’t good. I wasn’t meant to be a trainer, and these Pokémon weren’t meant to battle. I should just give up.” He sighed, and held the Pokéball out so the Sandshrew could return to it and rest. He got up and dusted himself off, and saw the gym leader standing much closer than he had been.

“It’s not that you weren’t good, you just weren’t ready. You have a connection to these guys. I can see it.” the gym leader said earnestly, reaching his hand out.

“That doesn’t mean they should be battling,” he sighed, “they’re all from the sanctuary me and my mom have. I shouldn’t have made them do this.”

“You weren’t making them do anything,” the gym leader said quickly, “seriously, you can tell they’re enjoying it because they’re doing it with you. I’ve been a gym leader for a while, you should trust me on this. I know Pokémon.”

“Well, so do I,” Matteo said with an angry huff, making his mind up again, “and I’m done battling.”

He turned, ignoring the disappointed look on the face of the gym leader, and climbed up the ladder before hurrying home.

****

[Matteo really doesnt think hes gonna go back but the pokemon were having fun and he kinda wants to see david again so he starts training again, gets a bit stronger and goes back]

He found it easier the second time, and made his way through it easier the second time too, as if he actually remembered the way through the crazy maze inside. When he got to the top of the stairs and saw the boarded up door again he snorted, and took a deep breath before pushing his way into the room again.

He was greeted by the same thick fog, the same tiles around the walls, the same chipping paint, but he knew to not take too many steps in. He figured the gym leader knew he came in, as the fog started clearing again once he was in the room, and he saw the same figure seated in the same spot on the edge of the pool.

“Oh, the boy from the Pokémon sanctuary!” the gym leader called out as he jumped down onto the pool tiles, “I’ve been expecting you.”

Matteo laughed and said, “I didn’t think I was coming back, how could you have been expecting me?”

“I could see it in your eyes,” the gym leader took a few steps closer, “you want to win. Or you want to prove something. No matter what it is, you have a reason to be here.”

Matteo smiled before making his way down the ladder and into the pool. His feet hit the tiles and he turned around so he could the gym leader, who he was getting very tired of only referring to as ‘the gym leader’.

“What’s your name?” he asked quickly, before he could think better of it, “Like, I know your whole thing is being mysterious but I have a feeling I’m going to be coming back here again.”

“Oh, so we’re already on a first name basis?” the gym leader asked, spinning around and a few steps towards the wall he had been sitting on, and he leaned his back against it, smiling.

“I just figured it’ll save us time later. Easier to do it now than in a month when it’ll be awkward.” He shrugged, offering a half smile. He tried to play it off as a joke, but he wanted to know.

He watched the gym leader smile, and then bite his lip and look down at the floor. He tapped his foot on the ground a few times before kicking off the wall and saying, “Okay, then. I’m David.”

Matteo smiled, nodded, quietly responded, “I’m Matteo,” and took a Pokéball off of his belt.

#idk if im gonna tag these ahhh im just gonna leave it for now #it feels bittersweet posting this i had such fun ideas but #i just dont really see myself #writing fics any time in the near future #or continuing them #its sad but also i need to like focus on being a human ya know #hopeuflly more coming soon!!!!

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wylanvnneck · 3 years

Text

Rating: T for Tyrannosaurus

Summary: Simon is a Shadowhunter and Baz is a vampire, the Head of the Watford vampire clan, strange things are taking place in Watford and something needs to be done about it.

Originally a short one shot in this AU written for the Carry On Countdown, but thanks to a surprising demand for more via AO3 and Tumblr is now a multi-chap, hopefully, you’ll join me for the ride.

On AO3 | Masterlist | Previous Chapter

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Chapter 2

Simon is barely conscious of his actions as he slams open the abandoned castle door of the Watford Institute. The old stone walls of the building echo with the force of it and yet Simon is too busy recalling a pair of pitch black eyes to notice.

He trudges through the dimly lit corridors, ascending the wide wooden staircase, with one destination in mind; the training room on the second floor.

But first, he had to report back to the Mage.

That wasn’t the Mage’s real name of course, but it was the one that everyone knew him by. There were rumours that his true title was ‘Davy’ but Simon couldn’t resign that name with the enigmatic and powerful figure that the Mage represented. To him, the Mage was all-knowing, omnipotent and above all, his guardian, the Institute Head who’d provided a home for an abandoned orphan boy.

Said omnipotent, all knowing Institute Head was blinking up at him owlishly from behind his mahogany desk, his attention diverted from the tremendous tome which he’d been perusing before his charge had stormed in like an agitated werewolf.

“Simon. Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing sir. I’m just reporting back after that vampire assignment you gave me.” Although his tone was as polite as usual, there’s an undercurrent to his words that spoke of his displeasure at having been assigned that particular task.

“Ah, yes. I trust everything went well?’

“Absolutely swell,” He hoped the sarcasm wasn’t too apparent.

“Right…” the Mage was eyeing him curiously, head tilted to the side, probably trying to ascertain his mood before seeming to let it go. “Well then, run along and do what you will, you’re off duty for the rest of the night.”

“Thank you sir.”

The training room was the perfect place to vent his feelings. The burn in his biceps as he swings from bar to bar is a welcoming distraction from the turmoil of his thoughts. Thoughts which seemed to consist mostly of blood red cocktails, a pair of fangs and a tailored suit with a floral pattern. It seemed ridiculous that one infuriating blood sucker could push him so off balance, but there he was, so completely off-kilter.

That arrogant vampire. Baz, his brain reminded him. Well Baz could go to hell. How dare he make such insinuations about Shadowhunters?

The Nephilim were what glued the supernatural community together. They were the overseers, the protectors. Without them the Magickal society would fall to pieces.

Why was this encounter bothering him so much?

He was used to Downworlder scorn, used to things like angry Warlocks knocking on the Institute’s door demanding that they be allowed to sell their services to mortals, services that would end in disaster if allowed. He’d never once before questioned the rules governing the other supernatural species, never once hesitated to tell an ambitious Downworlder ‘No’ and yet…

He jumps down from the bar he’d been hanging from, landing effortlessly on his feet. The tough leathery punching bag close by proves to be a good victim to take his frustrations out on.

Expensive cologne. A punch from the left.

Stupid not-even-truly-British accents. A punishing right hook.

A condescending smile framed by sculpted lips. A vicious roundhouse kick.

He hated this.

He needed someone to talk to. He needed Penelope.

He pulls away from the quivering bag and heads to the benches to swipe a wet towel over his sweaty face before hanging it around his neck as he squirts water onto his parched tongue. Merlin, for exactly how long had he been training?

The secret mundane phone that he kept back on the table in his room told him that the time was currently 4.00 am in the morning, meaning he’d been training for a cool two hours at a stretch after having gotten back from the revel at around 2.00. Wonderful.

Even better, he had training with Agatha in four short hours. Well, he’d better get what sleep he could.

He swipes open his lockscreen before typing a quick message to his Parabatai.

Vampires are terrible. Yes, I know, they rarely suck on human blood and when they do it’s not always harmful but Crowley, Penny you haven’t met the Head Vampire of the Watford Clan. He’s a bloody arsehole.

Having delivered that missive he heads off to get ready for bed.

Agatha is a lot less enthusiastic than usual at training this morning and that’s really saying something as she was never really all that enthusiastic to begin with. In fact, if Simon didn’t know any better he’d think that she resented being a Shadowhunter. Impossible. Being Nephilim was an honour.

“Simon! Stop attacking me with that thing.”

Simon had barely been moving his practice blade and yet Agatha seemed to think the false blade posed enough of a threat.

He just barely suppresses a long-suffering sigh. “Agatha, that’s the whole point of training. We pretend to attack each other so we’ll be prepared for actual attacks.”

“I really don’t see the point of training for an attack. Nothing fun ever happens around here anyways.”

Nothing fun. As if fights and wars and people being injured was fun. Biting back a retort he simply says, “Still, it’s always a good idea to be prepared.”

“Oh very well.” With a long suffering sigh of her own she finally raises her blade in an half-hearted attempt to parry him.

Practice goes worse than usual, but Simon’s day had been off even before then, he’d woken up to no messages from Penny who was usually up at the crack of dawn but he’d chalked it down to possible exhaustion from travelling. Not that she’d really gone all that far either. It felt weird to not have her frizzy haired self nearby. They’d been almost inseparable since even before they were twelve, when it had become time for him to decide who he’d have as a parabatai, Simon didn’t even have to think twice before deciding on Penny.

She was a force of nature and a constant presence; always there, always dependable. She also had a penchant for reading him way too easily.

He doesn’t truly start panicking however, he’s willing to give her silence the benefit of the doubt at least for the moment, after all, his parabatai rune wasn’t giving off any odd signals.

Then, the phone call happened.

Professor Bunce sounds hurried and displeased. “Simon, can you please remind Penelope to not forget to bring an extra pillow and bedsheet with her when she gets here and do tell her to answer my calls.”

“Professor Bunce,” the panic is rising in his voice, he can almost taste it, like bile traveling up his throat. “Penelope left for home yesterday. She should have been there by now.”

There’s a long pause. So long that Simon has to pinch himself to make sure that this is indeed reality.

“Simon, what are you saying? Surely you know where my daughter is.”

“No, Professor.” His voice is cracked. “I don’t.”

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Stay tuned for chapter 3, I’ll try to get it up soon but I make no promises🌺

Tagging some of the lovely people who are the reason why this exists: @eviegalois and @sourcherrysconess

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off of the taglist.

#dd writes #carry on #carry on fanfiction #fanfic #bloody areshole Baz #the shame #why does swearing in british always seem less sacrilegious?

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sunsetinmyvein · 4 years

Text

I Know That I’ll Lose - Chapter Two - Distract My Brain

She had finally gotten home at about 1am that morning once everything from the show had been sorted and dealt with. Leaving her pretty much no time to process what a chaotic day it had been before she crawled into bed and passed out. At 6:18am she was rudely awoken by her phone incessantly buzzing. She rolled over with a groan to investigate what on earth was so important. Eight unread texts from a single number that she still had yet to save in her phone, and for how Matty was travelling at the moment he was about to have his number blocked. As soon as she started scrolling through the messages her phone started ringing. She answered without looking, knowing full well who it was.

“What, Matty?” She asked, the annoyance thick in her tone.

“You weren’t answering my texts.” He answered simply.

Fucking read receipts… “Because it’s six in the morning. I was asleep.” She mumbled in anger; her voice half muffled by the fact that her face was pressed into her pillow.

“Oh… Is it?” He asked absent-mindedly, she could hear shuffling on the other end of the line. “Jetlag is a wonderful thing.” He laughed.

“Go. To. Sleep.” She ordered as she hung up the phone and put it back on her bedside table. Her phone buzzed once more after she hung up, simply with an address and a time. She took a brief glance at it. 10am. That was manageable.

After a couple more hours of patchy sleep, and thankfully no more text messages, she finally got out of bed and got her shit together. The address he had given her ended up being a hotel, and it seemed to be a pretty snazzy one from what she could see in the lobby. Lots of gold trimming on things, a fountain in the centre of the room, a five-star restaurant, the works. They even had some glass thing near the check in desk filled with iced water with chunks of lemon in it. As she was distracted looking around the expensive ground floor of the building, she felt a hand land on her shoulder. For a brief moment she half expected it to be a hotel employee about to ask her to leave for loitering, but she turned around to be greeted by a grinning Matty. He was in much more casual clothes than the last time she had seen him in the stage suit; ripped jeans, a plain shirt, dark glasses. His hair however looked like he hadn’t touched it since he came off stage.

“Did you sleep at all after the show?” She asked, eyeing his sunglasses and the bed head look.

“A bit.” He shrugged. “I’m sure I would’ve slept better with company.” He added with a suggestive look over the frame of his glasses.

“I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have.” She shot back with an eyeroll. He laughed at that, opening his mouth to throw in another witty comeback, but she figured she’d stop that conversation before it started. “Anyway, where are we going? What is this shit that you have to do today?”

He pulled a small slip of paper out of his pocket and read over the information scribbled on it. “We are going to some radio station for an on-air interview thing at twelve, and then there’s another one somewhere else at three.” He answered, starting to walk towards the doors of the lobby.

She glanced back towards the elevators before following him, “Are the rest of the band coming?”

“No. Those dickheads got to go home last night. They only want me for the interviews.” He huffed.

They stepped out onto the pavement outside the hotel and Matty took a moment to take in his surroundings. “All right, so this is the address we’re going to first,” He said as he handed the slip of paper to her, “you gotta get us there and keep an eye on the time so that I’m not late to this thing.”

She stared at the paper for a second, before looking back at him with a frown. “Why?”

“Because I am entrusting you with this very delicate task.” He said as he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it.

“Don’t you have, I dunno, a babysitter or something to sort this stuff out for you?”

He took a deep drag before speaking, “Nah, they didn’t give me anyone to sort out my shit on this tour.” He said with a shrug. “So, you’re stuck with me.”

Her frown deepened, “I never agreed to that.”

“Well, you can always go home if you’re not having fun.” He pointed out.

There was a long pause between them as she mulled over her options. Go home and do the work that she had put off doing, or hang out with the charismatic lead singer of a band she quite liked. Eventually she muttered under her breath, “It’s this way to the train station.”

They walked down the street silently for a few brief moments. Matty was happy just taking in the sights of a new area, the different architecture, the brief glimpses of culture. Travelling was a perk of his job that he very much enjoyed. She was noticing pretty quickly that Matty was a very expressive guy, it was pretty easy to see where his attention was and how engaged he was in whatever he was doing. He took another drag on his cigarette before holding it out to her.

“Tobacco?” She asked as she stared down at the offer. He nodded. She shook her head lightly, “No thanks.” They took another few steps down the street as the gears turned in his head, processing her answer.

“Is that implying that you smoke other things?” He questioned eventually. She deliberated on her answer, giving a noncommittal noise in response. His eyebrows shot up in amusement, “What would’ve made you say yes?”

“I might have considered it if it was weed.” She answered truthfully.

“Scandalous. I will need to remember this important information.” He replied as he snuffed out his cigarette with his shoe. She chuckled quietly next to him, forcing a grin out of him. She hadn’t exactly looked (or sounded over the phone) happy to see him again, it was nice to know that maybe he didn’t drag her out here for nothing. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For?” She asked.

“For coming with me today.” He elaborated. “Things go a lot smoother for me with company.”

“Oh,” She hadn’t been expecting him to sound so grateful about that. “It’s no problem.”

Matty hadn’t anticipated that the train station would be as close to his hotel as it was, and despite his attempts to suggest a taxi or something, she had reassured him that the offices that they were going were right in front of a different train station, so it was far more convenient to use public transport than to have to wait for someone to arrive to get them. He figured he had to trust her judgement, otherwise what was the point of asking for help from someone who actually lived here? They sat down on the train, him sitting across the aisle from her; partially because the train was fairly full, partially as an excuse for him to be able to look at her through his shades without her being able to tell if he was staring out of the window or not. As he overanalysed everything about the last twenty-four hours, he eventually remembered that he had brought something to give to her. She had been looking out the window when she suddenly found a piece of black fabric hurtling towards her head. She caught it, albeit ungracefully, and as she pulled it away from her face she realised it was a hoodie. A 1975 hoodie. She gave him a look of confusion as she held it up.

“You were keen on getting a hoodie, so I grabbed you one.” He explained with a casual shrug.

That didn’t lessen her confusion any. “From where? All of the remaining stock got sent back?”

“From my suitcase.” He said as though it was the most obvious fact in the world.

She looked down at the hoodie. It looked well worn, and it wasn’t a design that was being sold at the show last night. “Is this yours?” She asked after a long moment of silence. She looked back up at Matty, seeing him staring down at his phone.

“Not anymore.” He said simply. She was not overly fond of the warm, fuzzy feeling she had in her chest about this knowledge. But she shoved the article of clothing into her bag regardless.

The train station that they needed was only a few stops down the line, and they arrived in front of the building the interview was being held in with plenty of time to spare. He checked the time on his phone. They had nearly an hour and a half to kill. “Now what? I didn’t think that this place would be so close.” He sighed, lifting up his sunglasses to rub at his eyes.

“Well, I know a really good café nearby.” She suggested, glancing around at how busy the area was. Thankfully most of the people on the train hadn’t gotten off with them, there must be an event happening somewhere else. It should be pretty safe.

He hummed in agreement, nodding to himself. “Good idea. This is why I needed you to keep me company today. I could go for a coffee, and you probably need one.” He grabbed his wallet, handing her his credit card. “My shout for waking you up early.”

“Damn right it is.” She laughed as she took the card.

It only took a couple of minutes before they approached the unsuspecting shop front. He made a beeline for the menu, trying to work out what would keep his mind best sorted for this interview. He felt like a coffee but he preferred tea most of the time, and coffee might make him too jittery and his thoughts too rapid. He didn’t have as much time when things were being aired live to consider his answers. In the back of his mind he heard her paying for their order, clearly deciding for him what he should have. He supposed that was one less thing to have to worry about. She came and stood next to him, holding his credit card back out to him. “All right, you gotta take your shoes off.” She said as he slipped the card back into his wallet.

“Huh? Why?” He frowned. She pointed in the direction of the back of the café towards a small room with a glass wall. Inside it looked… more or less like a lounge room? With couches and a TV and coffee tables. Except there were many, many cats.

“Wait… is this one of those cat café things?” Matty asked, quickly taking a worried glance around the front of the shop. She nodded as she kicked her shoes off. “Aren’t those super popular?” He was beginning to get anxious now. Big crowds weren’t really his thing. He hadn’t exactly prepared to be professional until his interview and had sort of hoped that the shades would be enough to give him privacy until then. He didn’t want to be forced to be on his best behaviour if he didn’t have to be.

“Normally.” She seemed entirely unphased by his distress.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else then.” He suggested, scratching at the side of his curly hair. He was already trying to think of a way to back track out of this situation. Maybe he shouldn’t have relied on a stranger to sort out his day for him. That was potentially a bad decision on his part.

“Why?” She asked.

“Well, it’s just that if there’s going to be a lot of people then potentially someone might recognise me and especially if I’m going to be stuck in a room with them for a while I just don’t really know how well that is going to go because I wasn’t thinking that I’d have to be-” His words came out in a garbled rush, and eventually she interrupted him to stop him from freaking out.

�� She shushed him for a moment, putting her hand on his shoulder to pull him out of his thoughts for a second. “I bought all of the tickets for an hour.” She said. He stared at her in surprise, his brain trying to catch up to how exactly that would assist him.

“What?” He asked, still wide-eyed and worried.

“Nobody else can come in for an hour, I paid to book the place out.” She explained.

He understood what she meant now. But as soon as the understanding washed over him, so did the realisation that she hadn’t paid for anything. “Hey, wait! I didn’t say you could do that!”

“I thought someone as incredibly famous-” Her voice was laced with sarcasm at that part, “as you would prefer this to a café where it was just open to whoever.” She had already stowed all of her stuff away in some tiny cubby system that they had and was putting hand sanitiser on.

“Well… I do. But that’s beside the point!” He tried to be annoyed, but he just found himself laughing. It felt pretty nice knowing that he wasn’t going to be interrupted for the next little while, though it felt nicer knowing that she’d considered him before dragging him somewhere.

The inside of the room that the cats were in was very homely. Lots of blankets and pillows thrown over plush lounge suites, it was pretty much built for comfort. Minus all of the shelves on the wall everywhere that Matty thought might be a concussion hazard for him if he wasn’t paying attention. Once he was sitting down on one of the couches it was much easier for him to calm himself down from the height of panic he had built up in his mind. He took a few moments to just breathe, watching as she walked straight over to one of the cats and sat down next to it. She looked like she was talking to it but he couldn’t hear what she was saying from where he was situated. The room had quiet background music playing, but other than that it was incredibly quiet. Peaceful. The glass window blocked out most of the noise from the busy street outside. It wasn’t long before the order that she had placed was carried in on a little tray by the person who had served them. He spied two decent sized drinks and two muffins. He hadn’t even considered if he was hungry or not but upon the sight of food his stomach clearly remembered that it hadn’t had breakfast, growling in approval. Y/N/N grabbed the two drinks with a quick thank you and walked over to where Matty was still sitting.

“I know you said you felt like a coffee but I dunno, I just felt like a tea might sit better?” She said as she passed him one of the two cups. “And the interview is right over lunch so I figured some food would be nice.” She gestured to the two muffins sitting on the table.

“Thanks.” He said as he beamed up at her. “A good decision on all accounts.” A contented feeling settled itself in his chest. He figured he probably didn’t want to think about the origins of that right now. Putting it down to being in the moment, he changed the topic. “You know these cats?” He asked around a mouthful of muffin as he looked over to an orange one that was approaching him.

“Yeah. Been coming here for a while.” She sighed, taking a seat next to him on the couch. “Since it opened actually.” She reached out to pat it.

“Customer loyalty. I like it.” He commented as he took a sip of his drink.

“Sucker for felines, more like.” She scoffed.

They sat in a comfortable silence, exchanging the odd comment here and there. Mostly she just ignored him and sat with various cats within the café. So, he just watched her and enjoyed her enthusiasm for the animals as he finished his drink and muffin. The peace and quiet was nice, and the even nicer company put him in a better mood than he would’ve expected it to. Being surrounded by cats was also surprisingly enjoyable - they held a comforting nature about them. He held nothing against the animals, they just weren’t a personal favourite. The café had done a good job of filling the time and brought them to quarter to twelve by the time they arrived back at the radio station offices.

“I’ll just wait out the front for you.” She had said as he approached the doors.

“No, no. You have to come with me.” He protested, grabbing her hand and urging her to come with him.

“Nuh uh, no way.” She pulled her hand back, shaking her head. “You said I was here just to kill time in between your interviews.” She reminded him.

“I can’t face those savages in there alone.” He said with a pout.

They were in a stand-off for a moment, neither of them wanting to give in. She didn’t overly want to be pulled in any further to the antics that Matthew Healy seemed to create simply by being in a room. Finally, she rolled her eyes with an exaggerated groan. “Fine, I’ll come with you.” She said, watching as an excited grin made its way across his face. “But I am in no way being affiliated with your press stuff.” She added sternly.

“I can’t promise what wild conclusions they will jump to about a rock star walking in with a girl on his arm.” He flipped his shades back over his eyes as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and dragged her through the doors with him.

“Let go of me.” She huffed as she shoved him in the chest. He just laughed loudly and took his arm away, but she didn’t stand any less close.

They signed in at the front desk, scrawling a few details into some random clipboard. Matty had told her to just write down his label name under her reason for being with him. After that they were ushered down some hallways into a studio and told to wait outside until they were waved through. It wasn’t that long before that happened, and straight away Matty went and took the empty seat at the other side of the room next to one of the mics, slipping the large headset on. He seemed like he’d done this a million times, but she supposed he probably had. So, she just stood back near the door and leant against the wall until he was done. The interview seemed pretty stock standard to any other interview she had ever heard: chat about the new album, chat about the hits that are being played at the moment, ask how tour is going and how he enjoys the city. It wasn’t until they got into the parts about his drug addiction and Matty started cranking out his extensive vocabulary that it seemed to be quite a revealing escapade. But he seemed unphased the whole time he spoke about quite personal topics.

“We asked our listeners what they wanted to know when you were on the show, Matty, and we have had a few fan questions sent in.” The radio presenter pulled out a small stack of cards from next to his screen.

“Go for it.” Matty nodded. He’d had pretty much everything thrown at him in interviews by this point in his career.

“What has been your favourite show of the tour?” He asked.

He thought about this for a couple of seconds, smiling down at the mic. “Last night was pretty good.” He shrugged.

“Ah, you’re only just saying that because you’re still here!” The presenter guy said with a casual laugh. He just shrugged in response, opting not to elaborate on his answer. “Which is your favourite of your tattoos?” He continued as he read one of his cards.

“The one on my chest for my nana.” He answered confidently as he pointed at it.

The presenter let out a low chuckle, pausing for a second before leading into his next question, “Your favourite sexual position?”

He laughed loudly with a scoff, “Nah, you’re not having that.”

“That’s the answer you won’t tell them?” She mumbled quietly from the other side of the studio, only half listening as she stared down at her phone while she waited. He’d told them just about everything else at this point, why was that where he had stopped? After that Matty found himself tuning out the interviewer, fishing around in his pocket for his phone and quickly typing out a text message.

“It’s just all about balance, y’know?” He answered offhandedly, having not heard the question he was answering at all. The interviewer seemed happy enough with his answer, though. She saw the text message preview as soon as it came through.

12:13pm Why tell you when I could show you?

How in the hell had he even heard her from across the room with a headset on? She knew full well as soon as she read it that he was watching her - she could feel his stare practically drilling a hole through her skull. When she eventually looked across the room at him, the smile on his face was somewhere between smug and suggestive. She blushed and went back to looking at her phone in silence until he was finally done.

He said his goodbyes and walked out of the interview, flashing a shit eating grin her way as they started walking back the way they had come. “So…” He started, drawing it out as he leaned towards her. “How was your first interview?”

“Fuck you.” She muttered, refusing to meet his insistent gaze.

He gave a short laugh. “You could if you’d like.” He said as he nudged her shoulder. “That was the point.”

“You’re literally insufferable.” She continued.

“But yet, here you still are.” His grin was unwavering as he said bye to the receptionist on their way out. “Waiting for me to finish the interview. Waiting for me after the show.”

“Quite possibly the worst.” They had reached the door at this point, and she was half tempted to go home just to stick it to him.

“I am arrogant, pretentious, egotistical and a right wanker sometimes. I can beat you to the punch on all of that, I know all these things already.” He lit another cigarette as they stood on the side of the road. She just looked up at him, shaking her head.

“Who lets you get away with being like this?” She asked in disbelief.

He let go of the smoke he was holding in his lungs before speaking, “People who enable me.” He said with a pointed look in her direction. He was right. She hadn’t left yet. Which wasn’t exactly the right conditioning for discouraging negative behaviours. Why hadn’t she left yet? She was suddenly reminded of all of the thoughts that she had been shoving to the back of her mind. “Fancy a drink before the next interview?” He asked before she could think about it for too long.

She nodded enthusiastically, “I feel like I fucking need one.”

They had nearly two hours until the second interview, which wasn’t too far away from where they already were. As much as she had no idea where the address was exactly, she was sure it wouldn’t be too difficult to locate. Worst comes to worst; Uber was a thing. She let him do the navigating to find a bar that they could get a drink in. It wasn’t long before he found one that he deemed suitable enough. It seemed to have some classic vibes with lots of wooden accents. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever actually been there before. They both took a seat up at the bar. “What’s your poison? Wine?” He suggested, looking over at her for approval.

She shook her head, “No.” He let out an offended gasp.

“Whiskey?” He asked instantly with an eyebrow raised.

She made an active gagging noise, “God no.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Vodka?” He finally proposed as the bartender walked over.

“Now we’re talking.” She nodded. He ordered a vodka and coke for each of them, tapping his glass to hers before taking a swig of it.

They finished their first drink in silence and he instantly ordered a second round. An outsider would’ve assumed by the speed that they were drinking, that they were two people looking to drown their sorrows. But it was more like two people trying to sort out what the hell was happening in their own minds. Matty always went through phases of inner reflection, this was no different to the other numerous times he had already done it today. Just this time he had the drink that he wanted to have during all the other times. He had a vague idea of where his head was at but currently wasn’t sure of his overall motives in the grand scheme of things. Y/N/N sat there trying to establish what had happened since the night prior, working out where this whole thing was going to leave her. The outlook seemed bleak. “Matty?” She asked eventually.

“Mm?” He looked across to her.

She swallowed her nerves as best she could to confront the question that had been bothering her the most: “What is your end game with this?”

“With what?” He asked innocently.

“This.” She gestured between them. He let out a silent ‘oh’. It was a question that he himself had been trying to avoid, as well. “Eventually, you go home, right? And last I checked; you weren’t single.”

He raised his eyebrows at her comment, “You’ve checked?” He asked in amusement.

“No, I-” She started, letting out a huff of annoyance. “That’s not what you’re meant to take away from that.”

“But it is what I’m taking away from that.” He all but giggled. “You’ve googled if I was single or not.” She swatted his hand away before he could bother her more than he already was.

“It’s just an expression.” She argued.

“Is it, though?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

“Matty,” She said finally, the tone in her voice catching his attention. “would you just be serious for five seconds?”

“I, erm…” He ran a hand through his hair, letting out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding. “Yeah, sorry.” He nodded finally, taking a large gulp of his drink and clearing his throat.

“So?” She prompted. He took in a few slow breaths, thinking of the best words to get his thoughts out coherently. It was a couple of moments of silence before he finally spoke, staring down at the bar as he did so.

“I don’t enjoy being vulnerable to people, not right off the bat and especially not during work - song writing being the exception, obviously. It makes my job a lot harder than it has to be, to be like that in interviews and during shows. Truly vulnerable, I mean. All of the heroin addiction and rehab stuff, that’s all already out there at this point. Half of the skeletons in my closet are already in my songs or in the headlines.” Matty waved his hand dismissively, “I have practically already scripted answers to deal with a lot of that shit... But the shit that I don’t want people finding out? Where my head and heart are at any given time? It’s easier to hide behind arrogance and my ego than to admit that stuff. Like how people say they’re fine when really, they’re not, so that people don’t ask them difficult questions. If they think I’m a bit of a dickhead, they think those things don’t matter to me. Doing that and having good company,” He nudged her shoulder with his own. “makes it easier for me to not have to think about things that drag me down. That’s why I was grateful that you came out with me today.”

She took a moment to process his answer. “As much as the transparency about why you’re such a twat sometimes is appreciated, that doesn’t answer the original question.” She reminded.

“Well, to answer the simple ones first: I am meant to fly back home tonight and to satisfy your creepy googling,” She kicked his shin at that remark, earning a short chuckle out of him. “I am single. My girlfriend left me a couple of months ago. You have to keep that to yourself, though.” He admitted quietly. There was a long moment of silence between them, he was clearly not fully ready to deal with that yet. She felt like maybe she should offer some form of condolences, but when she opened her mouth to do so he continued. “See? This is what I meant about being vulnerable. Now I feel shitty.” He laughed.

She decided it might be easier on the both of them to skip the ‘I’m sorry to hear that’s and move along. “And? The other bit?” She asked.

He let out a heavy sigh. “I enjoy your company and being around you, but not to be that guy and quote my own shit-” He started.

“Are you trying to say that you aren’t that guy normally?” She interrupted.

“You said you wanted to be serious.” He pointed out. She nodded, mumbling a quick ‘sorry’. “And I definitely am that guy, but - it seems that lately, if I choose, then I lose. If I tell you to go away, I end up by myself in a city I don’t know looking for an escape from my thoughts. If I tell you to stay, I’m leading you on, aren’t I?” He questioned, finishing the rest of his drink and calling the bartender over for another.

She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.

“Are you?” He looked over at her to elaborate. “Leading me on?” She wasn’t overly sure what she wanted his answer to be, but hearing his response would probably help her get her own brain in order.

“Truthfully? I don’t really know the answer to that.” He confessed with a shrug. The mood had dropped since this particular conversation had begun between them. The drinks flowed quietly for a few more minutes, the sounds of the bar and the street nearby filling the void. He was halfway through his fourth now and she was just starting her third. She had no idea where his answers left her. To be honest, she felt it was probably still in much the same place that she had been in fifteen minutes ago: still confused and unsure what the next step was if he wanted to keep acting how he was.

“Sorry that I couldn’t offer you a solid answer there.” Matty apologised. She looked over at him to see him looking quite sorry for himself as he stared into his glass. His sunglasses on his head were not doing a good job of keeping his hair out of his eyes, and his typical jovial demeanour that she was getting used to was nowhere to be seen. “My life isn’t really in a spot to be making grand plans right now. At the moment I’m just trying to make it to next week in one piece.” He explained before glancing up to meet her gaze, holding it for a moment before speaking, “And I feel like you wanted a different reaction.”

She tried to work out what would’ve happened in her own mind had he given a definitive answer. Had he said he wasn’t interested and he was just flirting for the sake of it? That was fine. She’s known this guy for one day, it’s no skin off her back to forget about him once he leaves. Had it turned out that he was just trying to get in her pants for a fling while he was away on tour? She probably wasn’t about to say yes to it, but it would’ve at least been reassuring to know where his head was at. Had he been legitimately interested, though? That was the one that stumped her. And the fact that he was unable to confirm which of the three he actually wanted left her with more questions than answers. At the end of the day he wanted company in some capacity, but she wanted to know if providing that was going to leave her worse for wear at the end of the day. “I don’t actually know what I wanted out of that question.”

“What is your end game? Why are you out here drinking with troubled musicians?” He asked, taking a swig of his drink for emphasis.

“I… am not really sure.” She confessed.

A snigger fell from his lips, “What do you mean you’re not sure?” He was used to people trying to take advantage of having someone of celebrity status around. To not have some ulterior motive was unusual to say the least.

“I sort of just tried to ignore it until about twenty minutes ago.” She explained.

He let out a spluttered laugh of surprise, “What?”

“You came on really strong really fast and I was in no way prepared to deal with that!” She threw her hands up defensively, trying her best to not sound as hopeless about it as she felt. But she did find herself chuckling along with him. “I just tried to forget about it and go with the flow until I worked out what you were trying to do.”

“How could you ask me that question without having an answer yourself?” He accused her in between his laughs.

“You started it!” She said as she poked him harshly in the shoulder. “I figured you had a plan!”

He nearly fell off of his barstool at that from how hard he was laughing, “It’s the fucking blind leading the blind out here.” At that, they were both in stitches from the amount of laughter falling from their lips. It felt good to have the tense atmosphere begin to dissipate and for things to start to feel like they had been.

As their laughter died down, Matty tried to get the conversation at least kind of back on the rails. “So, if you don’t know what you want at the end, what do you want now?” He asked.

“Well, you go home tonight. Nothing can happen in one night.” She answered with a shrug.

He let out a loud scoff, “Plenty of things can happen in one night. Especially if you know what you’re doing.” He added with a suggestive look.

“How has nobody gotten you in trouble for how you act?” She asked with a shake of her head.

“Us rock stars get away with some incredible things.” He flipped his shades back down over his eyes as he said it, as if to prove a point that he was a proper celebrity. “If there was more time?” He continued.

“But there’s not.”

“Hypothetically.”

“Matty-”

“Indulge me.”

She let out a deep sigh, trying not to be swayed by the excitement swirling in his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe something could come of it, if you knew what you wanted.” His smile split into a grin so she cut him off before he could say anything more. “Maybe. I like your company so I wouldn’t rule it out.” She glanced down at her phone, catching sight of the time.

“I’ll take that. Maybe is good.” He nodded, mostly saying it to himself.

“We gotta get going if you’re gonna make it to this other interview.” She said as she stood up from the bar. He glanced from her back to their empty drinks still on the counter.

“We can’t just stay and keep drinking?” He asked in disappointment.

“I mean… It’s your interview. I can do whatever I want.” She said with a short laugh. He got up from his chair and grabbed his things, starting to head for the door.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go. Come on.” He grumbled as he rolled his eyes. As they stepped outside, he pulled the slip of paper out of his pocket again to verify the details. “I don’t like written interviews.” He said mostly to himself as he scrunched up his face in distaste. He followed after her as she started walking in the direction that he assumed was towards the building he needed to be in shortly. “They take what I say out of context too frequently and easily.”

“Gotta grab the readers with those catchy headlines and that mis-quoted information.” She joked, nudging him with her elbow.

He let out a sarcastic laugh in response before speaking, “Half of the time I’m sure it’s because they can’t spell the words I’ve used.”

“You have to dumb it down for them, Matty.” She explained, “Lowest common denominator and all that.”

He laughed at her comment. “But that’s not me. I’m the pretentious twat, remember?”

“Like you’d ever let me forget it.” She said with a mocking smile, he just smiled back warmly.

The office that the second interview was being held in wasn’t as close as the first was, but it was still within walking distance. Matty had spent most of the walk trying to remember his best airtight answers that couldn’t be chopped and changed. They got there with fifteen minutes to spare.

“You’re allowed to wait out the front for this one.” He said quietly as he snuffed out the cigarette he had been smoking on their walk under his shoe.

“Gee, thanks.” She scoffed.

“No, I…” He started as he turned to her, trying to backtrack over how that sounded. “You know that’s not what I meant by that.” He said with a pointed look over his sunglasses. “I’d rather not give them anything more than I have to. It’ll be easier if you don’t come in.” He explained. In the short while she’d known him, she hadn’t exactly seen Matty be serious, and for a while it seemed like he was physically incapable of it. Out of the two times it had happened, one was when she had to ask him to be serious and the second was currently happening right now on this sidewalk. He seemed genuinely worried about this interview.

“Yeah, sure thing.” She agreed, suddenly feeling stupid for giving him shit about it.

“Thank you.” He said with a nod and small smile. “I’ll be back soon.” He said as he walked through the glass doors of the building.

This interview felt a lot longer than the radio one had. She tried to keep herself occupied but kept finding herself checking the entrance to see when he was finally done. After about half an hour she saw the familiar mop of curly hair approaching the doors. “How did it go?” She asked as he stepped back outside, lighting a cigarette almost instantly. He shrugged with a grunt. “Amazingly I take it.” She said sarcastically.

“Let’s go.” He mumbled, heading back in the direction of the train station that they had come from. He felt like he needed a drink, or to get stoned, or something to distract from the way that he felt his answers were being mistreated in that interview. He knew their tricks at this point in his career. Knew how they baited their questions for the right phrases and he tried his best to avoid them. But for every question he worked out how to get around, they found a new one to throw at him that he wasn’t prepared for. And that was always the one that made headlines. He knew that his want to get inebriated in some way, shape or form probably wasn’t likely to happen right now, so heading back to his hotel and sorting his shit out to go home was probably the next most reasonable thing to do.

It was nearly four before they were sat back down on the train on the way back to his hotel. They had walked most of the way there quietly while he beat himself up over the interview, but he was finally starting to feel his mood calm down as his brain wandered to other questions. Namely about present company sitting next to him. This was why he needed company, to help keep his brain grounded. “Was this out of your way?” He asked, breaking the silence. She looked at him curiously, urging him to continue. “To come out here today, I mean.”

“Ah. Not really.” She said with a shrug. “I try not to make plans after working a show because of how late they can go. And I live maybe… thirty minutes total travel time away from here? Near the airport.” She answered. He nodded in understanding. He vaguely remembered how long it had taken him to get to his hotel from the airport when they’d first flown in. The rest of the walk to his hotel was filled with them asking generic getting-to-know-you questions that they probably should’ve asked yesterday in an attempt to learn at least basic facts about one another. They knew pretty much next to nothing about each other. He knew that she liked his music and was easy to rile up. She knew that he was funny and in a band. That was about it.

She noted that he hadn’t seemed himself during their conversation as they made it back to his hotel. He was much quieter and a lot less high-energy than what she had seen previously. But she didn’t feel too chipper either now that they were about to part ways for good, and his final interview appeared to have been a sour note to end his day on. As they both stood in front of his hotel, the atmosphere between them felt tense. “Well…” She started, unsure of what exactly to say. Goodbyes were always awkward. “Have a safe flight, I guess.”

The offer to invite her up to his room briefly crossed his mind, but he thought better of it. She’d only turn him down, anyway. He figured being genuine and leaving on the right note was probably the better way to go. “Thanks for the company these last couple of days.” He said, taking his shades off and slipping them into his pocket.

She shrugged. “It’s no problem, really.”

“Maybe not, but I still appreciated it.” He said as he pulled her into a tight hug. “Keep in touch.” He mumbled into the side of her hair.

“You too, Matty.” She smiled as she hugged him back.

“I mean it.” He added quietly as he moved back, flashing a serious look her way before properly letting go. As quickly as she had seen the sincere look in his eyes, it was replaced by a suggestive grin. “Make sure you have my number saved for those lonely nights.” He winked.

“I will make sure to promptly delete it.” She nodded, rolling her eyes as she started making her way home. “Bye, Matty!” She called with a wave over her shoulder.

“Bye, Y/N/N.” He laughed, heading into his hotel.

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#Matty Healy x Reader #Matthew Healy x reader #sunsetinmyvein

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certain-as-the-sun · 4 years

Text

Love Me Anyway

A/N: Companion piece to “Hey Jealousy.” INspired by the duet “Love Me Anyway” by Pink and Chris Stapleton

Love Me Anyway

Even if you see my scars, even if I break your heart

If we're a million miles apart, do you think you'd walk away?

If I get lost in all the noise, even if I lose my voice

Flirt with all the other boys, what would you say?

Could you?

Could you love me anyway?

They spent the night in each other's arms, fully clothed. Emotions were too raw to even think about more. Adam lay awake with Belle in his arms, her head resting against his chest. The slow and steadiness of her breathing was the only sound in the room. It felt so strange to him to be in the master bedroom of Belle’s house. For so long it had been her father’s room, hers now since Maurice’s passing. He still expected the older man to come in and catch them together.

It felt so good, so right for Adam to be lying here with Belle. He knew it would be slow going. Slower than even before. She wouldn’t let him cross boundaries until she was ready. They had talked until the early hours of the morning, lying together. He apologized and she listened.

“I’m never going back to what I was before,” Adam said, turning to look her in the eye.

“Never say never,” Belle warned, tucking a stray piece of his hair out of his face. “You’ve said never before. It never stuck.”

He let out a sigh and hugged her close. “I have missed you every day for the last three years.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond. She had missed him too, her Adam. The Adam that was kind and generous. The Adam who would take walks with her in the park. The Adam who defended her from his asshole friend. But the Adam she didn’t miss was the drunk Adam making lewd phone calls to her. The Adam who would take off for days at a time with no word. She didn’t miss wondering if he was alive or dead. She didn’t miss driving all over town checking his usual haunts to bring him home and dry him out. She didn’t miss holding his head when he threw up after a binge.

“Maybe not every day, but I did miss you,” Belle admitted. “I was very angry with you for a long time. I had no kindness towards you for nearly a year. You put me through hell, Adam. There’s no other way to describe it.”

He took a deep breath. “I deserve that,” he said, loosening his hold on her. “There are so many things I am not proud of. Betraying you, that’s at the top of the list. Has been and always will be.”

If there was one thing she could give him a great deal of credit for was that even in the darkest of times, he never cheated on her. He had never been with another girl. Adam’s definition of betrayal was breaking promises, going back on something he said. He’d nearly done it before, and swore he’d never do it again.

Adam had broken his promise to Belle was when she’d left for school and was living on campus. She was lonely. Her roommate Babette was rushing a sorority and didn’t have much interest in the academic side of university. Belle spoke to Adam on the phone nearly every night. She missed him. Worried that he wasn’t behaving himself. She had enough to worry about. Her father had a fall at home while he was alone. She called Cogsworth to go check on him when he wasn’t answering the phone. Maurice had broken his hip and was in a rehab center getting round the clock nursing care. It killed her to be away from him when he was in such bad shape. Lumiere took it upon himself to be Maurice’s cheering section. He came to visit him nearly every day.

When he got on the train to see her for the first time since she left for school, Adam had every intention of behaving himself. She needed him. Not his demons. He stepped off the train and glanced around the unfamiliar station, trying to remember where she told him to go. A flatscreen hanging from a nearby pillar said it was two-thirty. He was early. Really early. Her last class wouldn’t get out until after four. He left the station and walked towards campus, making a wrong turn and ending up on Greek Row or “Sin City” as the locals would call it. Greek Row, home to the university’s fraternity and sorority houses. Adam looked up and down the street, feeling like he had walked into a movie set. The street itself divided the houses, the frats on the even side of the street, the sororities on the odd.

Fliers for parties and other Greek events littered the sidewalk. He picked up one; a house party at Kappa Nu Delta for that night. It sounded like fun. He folded it up and stuffed it in his pocket. The only reason his dads let him come to see Belle alone was because he had met his six month goal of sobriety. They trusted him. Maybe he and Belle could hit up some of the parties, for the social networking after they had dinner. Needing to kill time and not wanting to invade Belle’s dorm room too soon, Adam sat on a bench right outside the Kappa Nu house. He scrolled through his phone, looking for a good place to take the love of his life out to dinner.

A football nearly severed his head if he hadn’t ducked. A guy in board shorts and flip-flops ran up to him.

“Oh dude! Wicked save!” he said. “Can’t be all that easy to read your screen out here in the sun. We got shade and brews on the lawn if you’re interested.”

Like the Pied Piper leading the rats to the ledge, Adam walked over to the big umbrella with the guy. “Dude, I’m Clyde, president of this mighty house. Welcome to the pre-bacchanal bacchanal.”

Remembering his promise to Belle and his dads, he sat in the shade and drank only water. He enjoyed just sitting with people who don’t know his history.

“Dude, I’ve never seen you before,” Clyde said sitting in the lawn chair next to him. “And I’d totally remember your face. Gnarly scars dude.”

“Just visiting my girl,” Adam said, taking a swig from the water bottle. “She’s in class.”

“Can I get you something other than water? The face you’re making is telling me water isn’t your drink of choice.”

Stoli, straight from the bottle. His mind was turning on him. Afternoon classes were starting to wind down. More people were descending on Greek Row. He needed to leave, now, find Belle and get on with their weekend visit like he planned. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He took out and stared at her photo on the screen.

“That your girl?”

“That’s my Belle,” Adam said, scrolling over his phone so he could see her face unobstructed by the apps on his phone. “She’s the best.”

“Then what the hell you doing sulking here? Go get your girl and get back here. We light the goat at dusk!”

Reading her text, his smile faded. Classes are running late. I won’t be back at my dorm until after six. I’m sorry.

“Got any vodka?” Adam asked, shoving his phone angrily deep into his pocket.

* * *

Where was he? Belle wondered. He hadn’t texted her back after she told him her classes were running behind. Maybe he was holed up at the library, thinking it the best place to find her. She started there. No Adam. The student union building? No Adam. She had that feeling. That deep her in gut feeling that he had done something stupid. She didn’t want to check but she knew that’s where he was.

Opening Instagram she clicked on the tag for her school’s Greek Row. His face popped up on twelve different posts. Six months gone. She tapped on a video of him having some blonde bimbo pouring something down his throat. They both cheered when he swallowed it all. This girl was all over Adam but he kept pushing her away. Angrily she shut the app and threw her phone on her bed. This was not how she wanted to spend her Friday night, tracking down Adam on Greek Row.

She took her purse and loaded it up with the standard “Dry Adam out” gear. Water bottles, Advil, crackers. At least she was unknown here by most of the Greeks so she wouldn’t be so embarrassed by his actions. Making her way through campus to Greek Row she couldn’t stop herself from getting mad. Tears stung her eyes as she walked through campus. She knocked into people, not bothering to stop and apologize. She was mad at her schedule. Mad at the earliness of his train. But mostly, she was furious at him for doing this to her. It was the first time they were in the same place in so long. She had been looking forward to seeing him, and congratulating him in person on his six months of sobriety. But now she was furious that he lacked the will power to just walk away. She would never understand his addiction. She couldn’t fathom how he could keep going back to the one thing that was ruining his life.

She followed the noise and chaos to the Kappa House. There he was, King of the Bacchanal. Standing on the dais that was sure to come crashing down on him at any minute. He had a cheap party supply store crown on his head, draped in dozens of beaded necklaces.

“Belle! Baby, you made it!” he cheered. “Clyde, dude, look it’s Belle! Belle!” He jumped down and stumbled towards here. “Baby, I’ve missed you so much!”

He tried to pull her into an embrace. How he’d missed her. He leaned in for a kiss and she pushed him away.

“You’re drunk,” Belle said flatly. “You promised. You promised me!”

“Belle!” Adam shouted as she turned away from him. “Baby, baby wait!”

“NO! God damn you, Adam! You PROMISED me!” she turned and gave him a shove. “You promised me this would be a good visit. That you could handle it. Find your own way home.”

She strode away, leaving him standing in the middle of the street. She wanted to call Hatter, tattle on Adam. She was furious, betrayed. She went back to her dorm and slammed the door, thankful that Babette was out, probably at the same party Adam was. Since her night was ruined, she might as well study. And when that proved impossible she opened her laptop and turned to Amazon Prime and took solace in the lives of the beautiful, yet tragic lives of the Crawley sisters.

In the early hours of the morning Belle was woken by the loud giggling of someone or someones entering her dorm. Rolling over and turning on the lamp she was greeted to the sight of Adam and her roommate. She wasn’t sure who was holding who up.

“I do believe this is yours,” Babette said, laughing, letting go of Adam. “At least I think he’s yours, unless there’s another Belle from Molyneaux at this school.”

Adam looked worse for wear. His shirt was torn and muddy. He had the making of a black eye. “Looks like you had fun,” Belle said, with very little sympathy.

“I feel awful,” Adam said, holding his head. There was a cut in his hairline.

“I bet you do. There’s waters in the fridge and Advil on my desk. And don’t even think about climbing in this bed. You can sleep on the floor.” She flipped off her lamp and buried herself in her blankets.

“Belle? Baby?” Adam whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re always sorry Adam.”

* * *

Rolling over in her bed she hit something, someone hard. She was in her room at home. Looking at the sleeping face of Adam reminded her of his return to her. It took her a moment to remember that the night before hadn’t been a dream. He was really there and they had really talked all night. He wanted to do more, she knew but she wouldn’t take that step with him until her faith in him was restored. She slid out of his embrace and padded into her bathroom. Turning on the water, she splashed it on her face. Her heart wanted Adam. Wanted him in ways she would never admit out loud. She undid the braid she usually slept in and started to brush out her hair. The door opened and Adam stepped in coming right to her and wrapping her in his arms, kissing the top of her head. It was easy to see how different they were when looking at their reflections. Belle, at her tallest was five foot four and Adam was well over six feet. From what his dads had mentioned, he had taken to running and weights as a distraction and it had done him a world of good. He was a massive figure.

“God, I’ve dreamt of this nearly every night,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin light on top of her head. “Waking up next to you, starting our days together.”

His words overwhelmed Belle, so she extricated herself from his embrace. “Adam, please understand. I want you, yes. But there’s a lot that has to happen before we get to your version of us being together.”

“I know that,” Adam said, stepping back from her, giving her space. “It’s going to take more than just words and a bronze coin in my pocket. Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it. I will do whatever it takes to make this”—he gestured between them—“work. And last. Because you’re it Belle. You are my forever. I knew it when I was seventeen. I love you.”

Is it for better or for worse, or am I just your good time girl?

Can you still hold me when it hurts, or would you walk away?

Even if I scandalize you, cut you down and criticize you

Tell a million lies about you, what would you say?

Could you?

Could you love me anyway?

Could you? (Aw, could you?)

Could you? (Could you?)

Could you?

Could you love me anyway?

Could you?

They sat together at the counselor Hatter recommended they see. Dr. Jane Porter dealt mainly with recovering addicts and their loved ones. Belle agreed at once. There was a lot that they needed to work out before she could entertain the idea of letting Adam in more than she already had. The space between them on the couch was wide.

“Belle, what is something about Adam that makes you blissfully happy?” Dr. Porter asked.

“When he takes my hand when we walk together. Or the way he used to run his fingers through my hair,” Belle answered, looking over at him.

“Adam, same question.”

Adam stared at Belle. There were so many things about Belle that made him happy that he couldn’t name just one. “It’s a lot of little things. She gets this crinkle between her eyebrows when she’s reading something funny. She can’t sit in a chair like a normal person.”

Dr. Porter wrote in her notes. “Adam, what is something that Belle does to make you angry or upset?”

Adam was quiet. He had to think for a moment. “When she changes plans at the last moment. I don’t do well with change. When we plan for one thing and then it changes. It upsets me.”

“Are you talking about when you came to see me at school?” Belle asked. “Because that was not in my control. My professor was late and class ran late. You chose to stay on Greek Row instead of going to my dorm like we had discussed. I told you not to get there until after four. If you had followed the plan, that weekend would have gone very differently.”

“You left me there,” Adam countered. “If your roommate hadn’t found me, I could have ended up anywhere.”

“Yes, I left you there,” Belle said. “But you broke your promise. You promised me that it would be a good weekend. You always do that.”

“What do I always do Belle? Be human? Make mistakes? You’re not perfect either.”

“I know that.”

“Then why? Why do you always find a way to make me feel like I’m always in the wrong? You’re not always right, Belle.”

Belle sat quiet for a moment. But Adam kept going. “Yes I’m an addict. I have accepted that. But that’s all you see. You only see Adam the alcoholic. And there’s so much more to me than that.”

“I don’t just see you as an alcoholic, Adam.”

“Yes you do. You love me despite my addiction. It’s a part of me, Belle.”

“I know it’s a part of you. That it will always be there, gnawing at the back of your mind. What I want, is for you to find a way to cope that isn’t me. I can’t be the one who keeps you in check. It’s not a healthy way to have a relationship.”

“What makes you say that, Belle?” Dr. Porter asked.

“He has to want to stay sober for himself. Not for me or Cogsworth or Lumiere or Hatter. He has to want it for himself. Not to make those around him happy.”

“Is that what you really think? That I don’t want to stay clean for myself?” Adam snapped, his temper starting to rise. “If it's not for me, then who?”

“If you had gotten clean for yourself, Adam, it wouldn’t have taken five years since the accident for us to be here! You would have done it after Kevin died.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Adam roared. He stood up sharply, pulling his hands through his hair. “I wasn’t driving that night! Gaston was. Gaston killed Kevin, not me.”

“Baby, we know that,” Belle said, her voice soft, gentle. “We’ll never know if the accident would have happened if you hadn’t been there. But you were.”

“Stop doing that,” Adam said, his back still to her.

“Doing what?”

“The way you talk to me when I get angry,” he said, turning back to face Belle and Dr. Porter. “You get all soft and mild. You talk to me like I’m a child who needs scolding. I have parents. I don’t need you to mother me. You’re my girlfriend. Yell at me! Tell me I’m being an unreasonable jackass.”

“You are an unreasonable jackass! On top of being a stubborn, selfish, self-destructive—” She stumbled over the immense vocabulary she possessed. “You-- You-- rotten, misbegotten, foolhardy--Jackass!”

“Four years spent in the English department and the worst thing you can call me is jackass?”

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “There are a lot of things I can call you Adam.”

“Don’t let me stop you." Mumbling under his breath, he added, "Judgemental bookworm.”

“Spoiled, ill-bred, bumbling, useless fuckwit!”

“Okay guys, let’s all take a breath,” Dr. Porter interjected. “Sounds like there is a lot of unresolved tension between you. It’s going to take a lot of time and work to bring you to a point where the past is the past and moving towards looking to the future.”

She gave them homework. For Belle, she recommended books for her to read and to journal. For Adam, he needed to keep with the recovery plan he had made with his own therapists during his rehab. The pair needed to find a way to let go of the past and move forward.

* * *

Dates were important to Belle. She kept important ones, birthdays, anniversaries on her calendar so she wouldn’t miss them. Without fail she sent a card to Kevin’s mother on his birthday and the anniversary of his death. She didn’t have to but she did it anyway. He deserved to be remembered. The next session she had with Adam and Dr. Porter happened to fall on a day she wished she could forget. The day she miscarried.

“Adam, we’ve talked about your ups and downs over the last few weeks,” Dr. Porter said. “Tell me about the day you saw Gaston’s mother at the grocery store you were working at.”

Not that day. Not today. Belle thought. Does he even know that it’s today?

“It had been almost two years since the accident,” Adam answered. “Gaston, as I’ve said before, suffered massive head trauma in the accident, and it left him a living vegetable. I’ve heard that he’s regained some functions but he’ll never be the same.” He clenched his fists, needing a moment to recompose himself. To keep his anger about that day in check. For Belle. “I had recently celebrated a year of sobriety. I was in a really good place.” He reached across the sofa to take Belle’s hand. “We were in a good place. I was able to start wanting to make plans, future plans.”

“I was-- I was pregnant,” Belle said, squeezing Adam’s hand. “I had known for awhile and told Adam and his dads when I was around twelve maybe thirteen weeks along.”

“We were happy. Looking to make plans to raise the baby together, talking about getting married,” Adam said. “Everything we had talked about before the accident.” He took a breath. “I was bagging groceries at the market in town. I was smiling, happy because I was going to be a father. I wanted so badly to be one. I saw it as my chance to undo the past, to be the dad I needed when I was younger. And there she was. Standing in front of me at the checkstand. It took me a moment to remember her. Gaston’s mother had always been that woman who wouldn’t leave the house until she looked her absolute best. You know the type. She didn’t look like herself. It’s like someone zapped all the color from her.” Adam looked down. “‘How dare you smile.’ That’s the first thing she said to me in almost two years. ‘How can you dare to be happy when my son is forever ruined because of you.?’”

Adam wasn’t sure how he should react to such an accusation. He knew things were hard for their family. Because Kevin’s mother couldn’t get real justice for her son’s death because of Gaston’s condition she sued his parents for wrongful death. They had lost a lot of their wealth fighting and finally settling with her. He knew he hadn't done anything wrong.

“I’m really sorry about Gaston, Mrs. LeDoux. The accident wasn’t my fault. He was driving,” Adam apologized. She had a lot of groceries on the belt. This was going to be a long transaction.

“I don’t believe it! My son would never have driven drunk! You were the one driving and blamed it on my son.”

Adam would run out of fingers and toes for the amount of times he had ridden shotgun next to Gaston while he was drunk, stoned, and high as a kite. It was a common thing. But he didn’t dare say that. He kept sorting her groceries as she spoke to him. Berated him.

“What could you possibly be happy about? You should be in jail. If my son had never gotten involved with a drunk like you, he’d still be whole.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to stop harassing my employee,” Adam’s supervisor said, coming up to the register.

“It should have been you!” she screamed.

Adam had enough. He took off his apron, dropped it on the floor and walked away. He took a bottle of his poison from the shelves with him and vanished.

“Where did you go?” Dr. Porter asked.

“I went up to the woods. I had a cave area up there that I would run off to when I needed space. I think I was up there for three days before Hatter found me.”

“Adam,” Belle said, tears stinging her eyes. “Do you know what today is?”

“No, baby I don’t,” he said, cupping her cheek in his hand. “Belle?”

“Today, three years ago is when--”

“When we lost the baby,” Adam finished for her. He slid off the sofa and knelt in front of Belle. “I will never stop making up for that. Never.”

Dr. Porter watched the two young people in front of her. “What happened?”

Belle clung to Adam’s hands, their foreheads resting against each other. “I was at school. I just took my last final for the winter semester. While I was taking my test it had started to snow. I wasn’t wearing the right shoes and I slipped on a patch of ice. I was stupid. I came out a back entrance that hadn’t gotten de-iced yet. I couldn’t get up. The snow was still falling and I think I cried out enough that one of the groundskeepers saw me. He managed to help me up and guided me to the other side of the building where he radioed for assistance. Everything hurt and I got a sharp sudden pain in my belly. A few minutes later I realized I was bleeding.”

“Baby, you never told me this,” Adam said, trying his best to be a comfort. When Hatter finally found him after running into Mrs. LaDoux all Hatter had said in the matter was that Belle lost the baby. “No one told me what really happened.”

“I was about twenty weeks along when it happened,” Belle said. “A few more weeks and they might have been able to save--to save. To save her. They said my fall caused a placental abruption. At that point there wasn’t much they could do to stop it.”

Her. We would have had a daughter. “A girl?” Adam tried to smile. But it felt wrong. It felt wrong to smile.

“A girl. She was perfect,” Belle cried, emotion cracking her normally steady voice. “And I was alone. You weren’t there. You weren't answering your phone, I couldn't reach you. I needed you. By the time your dads got there, she was gone.” Gripping his hands tight she kept going. “You showed up eventually. But by then, I was done. I was too broken to care what you had to say, where you were, what you were doing or who you were doing it with. I even reached a point where I didn’t care if you were dead in a ditch.”

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there,” Adam said, lifting Belle’s chin to look at him. “It is unforgivable that I reacted like that. Her words hurt but I shouldn’t have let them get to me.”

"It was horrible what she said to you. It wasn't your fault. But in the moment when I needed you the most…" her voice broke and tears streamed down her face. "You weren't there. I had to say goodbye to our daughter alone, with no one but apathetic nursing staff around me. I've never felt more abandoned or hopeless in my life." She wiped away a tear. “I named her Caroline. Caroline Rose Benson. She’s resting in her grandfather’s rose garden.”

“Caroline?” Adam asked, his voice breathless.

“What’s the significance to that name?” Dr. Porter asked.

“It was my mother’s name,” Adam answered. “You remembered. Even when you felt nothing for me, you honored me in that way. Belle, that means more than anything.”

"She was still your daughter, and it just felt right. Just because I wanted nothing to do with you didn't mean I could pretend you didn't exist."

Bringing the session back on track, Dr. Porter asked, “Belle, you say you wanted nothing to do with him then. What do you want now?”

“I want a future. And if you want to be a part of it, Adam, you have to stay clean. Not just for me, but for you.”

“Belle, losing the baby, you telling me that you never wanted to see me again, that was my rock bottom. I wanted, longed to trade places with our child. Every time I got clean before, you’re right it wasn’t for me. It was for you, it was for Dad and Pop and for Hatter. But this last time, this time, it's for me. I need you to know that. And I will work every day to prove it.” He leaned up and kissed her. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Belle said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever told me,” Adam said. “I knew you did, but you’ve never said it.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Belle said. “But I do. I love you, Adam Benson.”

Could you? (Could you still love me?)

Could you? (Pick up the pieces of me?)

Could you? (Could you still love me?)

Could you love me anyway?

Could you? (Ooh, could you still love me?)

Could you? (Pick up the pieces of me?)

Could you? (Could you still love me?)

Could you love me anyway?

Could you? (Could you catch me when I fall?)

Could you? (And we rise above it all)

Could you? (And hold me when it hurts)

I can't stay here in the world, could you?

Could you? Could you? Could you?

#love me anyway #beauty and the beast #beauty and the beast fan fic #inspired by music

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saang · 4 years

Text

accidentally just stayed up all night writing more of my medieval au 👀👀

anyway this one goes out to @rllyjohnrlly because they made me art so i wrote them a fic!!

word count: 1900

read on ao3

“We could take the long way to the kingdom,” Toph suggested. “That way we can guarantee more time together.”

“To swordfight, I presume. You wouldn’t have an ulterior motive,” Aang smiled.

“Of course not, who do you take me for?” Toph reached out for his hand and held it. Her sword fastened in his belt with his own for the time being, until she got a safe place for it herself.

“Then, we’ll take the long way to the kingdom. Effectively adding two additional months to our journey. To swordfight, of course,” Aang squeezed Toph’s hand lightly. Her hand fitting perfectly in his. Her hands weren’t calloused like his, they were soft. They were soft, but she knew how to use them.

Toph let out a small laugh as they walked on the beaten path of the forest floor. They walked on a patch that had been once crossed a thousand times, but seldom still knew it existed. Aang led her across vines and branches and grass.

“This path was once the most popular way to get to the coast,” Aang said. “But when the earthquake happened and left the cliff, it was completely forgotten.”

“There’s a cliff? I never knew that.” Toph reached out feeling the close net trees of the path. It was amazing how nature reformed after human interference. The leaves tickling her fingers as they brush by.

“Very few do. I did say it was completely forgotten, didn’t I?” Aang lightly nudged Toph’s shoulder. Toph scoffed playfully. “We’re coming to a clearing pretty soon. Do you want to have your first official swordfighting lesson?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Toph stepped forward, urging Aang to move faster.

“I guess not,” Aang chuckled. He walked towards the clearing faster, Toph keeping pace with him.

“Alright, so,” Toph started. “What are we going to learn first?”

“We are going to learn the proper stance.”

“Ugh, boring. When are we going to learn the fun stuff?”

“After you know how to uphold a good stance,” Aang explained. He guided her into a proper position. “Stance is the most important part of swordfighting. Without a good stance, you’re off balance and it is much easier for your opponent to gain the upper hand.”

“Ugh, fine,” Toph said, holding her sword out in front of her. Aang had taken great care in restoring it for her. Cleaning off the rust, sharpening it. Making sure it was at tiptop shape for when Toph actually started using it.

Toph was a quick learner, picking up proper etiquette easily and well. Training went swimmingly for the next few weeks. They’d travel, train, set up camp or stay in an inn, but the closer they got to the Beifong Kingdom of Gaoling, the more they started to realize what would happen in the end.

Aang would go back to his kingdom. Toph would be married off to a nobleman to carry on the family lineage. They would part ways, and the only thing Toph would have to remember him by was a sword that her parents probably wouldn’t let her use.

“Aang,” Toph said one night. Her head rested on his chest as he stared up at the stars. “Is this really the last time we’ll ever see each other?”

“Do you want the hopeful answer or the realistic answer?”

“Realistic.”

“As much as it hurts me to say, even think about,” he took a deep breath, preparing to say the words he had been dreading. “Probably not.”

“Two weeks,” Toph said. “That’s how long we have with each other until we never see each other again.”

“Fourteen days, three hundred thirty-six hours.”

“What’s the hopeful answer?” Toph asked.

“Well, we would show up to the Beifong Kingdom and your parents would immediately accept our relationship. We would live out the rest of our lives together.” Aang dreamed up the scenario. He squeezed the arm around Toph a little tighter.

“We would have kids, three of them,” Toph played along. Aangs shirt was getting wet from Toph’s tears, but neither cared.

“What would their names be?” Aang played with Toph’s fingers. He was desperate to keep the tears at bay and unsuccessful.

“Bumi, Tenzin, and Poppy.”

“Poppy is your mother’s name, right?”

“Yeah, it is,” Toph said it softly, barely able to be heard. “I was six, when I ran away.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Toph,” Aang told her in response.

“If there’s anyone in the world I want to know this, it’s you.”

Toph described it in such vivid detail, that even without visual cues Aang was able to picture it all. Toph was six when she ran away. She had disguised herself as a servant and snuck out. At last, she was free, to do what she wished without anybody telling her to have better posture, or sit like a lady. She could feel the fresh grass in between her toes. The chilled air against her arms and the warm sun on her face.

It was amazing, Aang felt a sense of freedom listening to her tell the story. However, all stories have a twist. Toph had had her first taste of freedom ten years prior, quickly she learned that freedom also meant danger. She learned how scary being blind could actually be. She sought refuge in the Southern Kingdom. It was cold, icy, barren, but the people were kind. They gave her food to eat and clothes to wear.

Katara and Sokka, the crown prince and princess of the Southern Kingdom. Passionate, kind, caring. They weren’t too much older than her at the time. Katara was eight and Sokka was nine. They left her with a new sense of hope that she could make it in the world. They assured her that she always had a place in the Southern Kingdom if she were to need it.

She set off on her adventure, replenished, revitalized and ready to take on the world. She was faced with challenges of all kinds. People wanting to undermine her. People who wanted to hurt her. People who thought she looked a lot like the Beifong’s missing princess. No one really looked that far into the last one.

People were rude and scary, like the princess of the Equator Kingdom. Azula. Azula’s uncle and brother saved her, gave her shelter, food. Somewhere safe from not only Azula but the harsh realities of the world. Zuko was four years older than her, already fourteen when they had met. His uncle, Iroh, was a lot older, he never said his age but Toph guessed it was quite old.

She left the Equator Kingdom, ready to face the world, knowing the dangers of it. She stumbled upon where she would spend most of her days until a ceratin soldier from the Eastern Kingdom would walk in.

She arrived in the Republic of Kyoshi, the first and only Republic in the world. The ruler wasn’t decided by parentage but by merit. She was adopted into a group of strong-willed girls, not unlike herself. Eight years were spent living peacefully, well as peaceful as it could get. That is, however, until a soldier came along. He found out who Toph was, they had agreed that they would return Toph to her kingdom. The Beifong Heiress would return. Toph couldn’t remember the name of the soldier, it was a complete blank.

“I think it started with an ‘E’?” Toph joked. “Then again ‘I’ and ‘O’ are also very realistic,”

“Did this soldier happen to fall in love with you?” Aang asked, going along with Toph.

“I think I can remember that happening,” Toph laughed. “I can also remember falling in love with him too.”

“Oh, really now?” Aang played with Toph’s hair that was sprawled on his chest. “And you still don’t remember his name?”

“Let me think about it,” Toph paused. “Nope, nothing.”

The fall asleep under the full moon and the bright constellations. They woke up to the rising sun in the east. They packed up their makeshift campsite and continued their journey. They tried to justify extending their trip. They bought themselves a few extra days before they were face to face with the doors of the palace.

“I remember there being a few artisans booths, we could stay at one a little while before we enter the palace?” Toph suggested. “Besides, I bared my whole life story to you, I need something in return.”

It was a dry attempt at humour, but it was the only thing keeping them from breaking down. “Alright, where to start?”

Aang told Toph about where he was born first, hr figured he would start at the beginning. A little hospital outside of the capital. The fire that ended up taking both of his parent’s lives and many others. The heat that Aang could still feel at night sometimes.

He was adopted by a monk, Gyatso. He trained his whole life to be a soldier. He wanted to save as many lives as he could. He looked out the window sometimes wod=ndering when it would be his turn to protect the people he cared about.

His hope and his determination depleted when Gyatso passed away when he was twelve. The soldiers saw the boy with a dream and adopted Aang into their ranks. For three years he trained with the best soldiers of the Eastern Kingdom.

One day, Aang was sent out to patrol. He got lost down a beaten path that led to a cliff. An old man drinking tea told him about the cliff’s past. The earthquake the path once taken. The life lived before the generation came to be.

He followed the cliff, the shoreline until he found the Republic of Kyoshi. He saw a beautiful girl, arguably the most beautiful person he had ever seen. He introduced himself to the girl, telling her his name. Although, he can’t seem to remember her name. He discovered she was the princess that had ran away ten years ago, and they set a course for Goaling.

“And here we are, you're all caught up,” Aang said. “My whole life story.”

“Alright,” Toph smiled sadly, “I guess its time for us go to the palace.”

They arrived at the doors of the palace for the second time that day. Aang stood by her side as she greeted the Kingdom again. After a decade of being lost, she was finally found.

“You’re alive!” Her father shouted. “I never thought I’d see you again!”

“We did everything we could, we’re so glad to have you back!” Her mother welcomed her back with a hug. She had a faint sense that Aang was getting ready to leave. She let go of her mother’s hug and stepped back.

“I’m back on three conditions,” Toph said.

“What are they?”

“One, Aang gets to stay.” Aang turned around, eyes wide in shock at Toph’s condition. “Two, he can court me if he so chooses, and three he gets to teach me swordfighting.”

“Toph, you can’t be serious,” her mother laughed. “A woman wielding a sword? That’s blasphemous.”

“You do need an heir, don’t you?” Toph asked.

“I suppose that Aang can stay. He can court you, and he can teach your swordfighting, if he so chooses.” Toph turned to Aang and ran into his arms.

“I guess we don’t have to choose between hopeful and realistic.”

#taang #atla #aang #toph #toph beifong #medieval au #avatar: the last airbender #tophaang #toph bei fong #toph bei fong x aang #toph beifong x aang #toph x aang #fic #taang fanfiction

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sparklyjojos · 4 years

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THE SAIMON FAMILY CASE recaps [1/13]

These will be full recaps of the latest JDC book, The Saimon Family Case (彩紋家事件) from 2004, which is a prequel taking place in the late 70s. While it’s a prequel, it can be read without any knowledge about the series. (It does spoil one death from Carnival at the end, but I feel like everyone already knows about this particular one).

It won’t be obvious in the recaps, but the book consists of seven parts seven chapters each (similar to Maijo’s Tsukumojuku) with two additional parts at the end.

The novel is light in terms of content warnings (for a murder mystery, anyway), but small kids WILL die in this, and we’ll be talking a lot about a specific type of systemic xenophobic violence near the end.

See that big family tree above? Save it somewhere for future reference. Believe me when I say you will need it. (Also, as always in the recaps, family name will be given first, Japanese-style.)

Well then—has everyone found their seats? Is everyone ready to witness the most splendid illusion?

Let's start the show.

PART 1

A note at the beginning informs us that soon 20 years will have passed from the end of the famous Saimon Family Murder Case, often called the “Crime Revolution” because of its impact on the future of similar complicated incidents. The details of the case have been hidden from the masses, but the time will soon come when everyone will learn the truth.

It’s the very last day of the year 1999. The mysterious first person narrator of the framing device is an older gentleman attending a New Years celebration in Las Vegas with his wife. They watch a fairly young blond magician perform close up magic for the guests. The magician borrows a 10,000 yen bill from the narrator, seals it in an envelope, sets it on fire, and it suddenly turns into a rose in his hand. When the narrator is asked to check his wallet, inside he finds a bill with the same denomination and serial number, but of a noticeably larger size… among a few other stunning differences.

“Happy New Millenium!” the magician exclaims.

This little illusion awakens memories from that case in both the narrator and his wife. As the world heads towards the new century, they are the only people left who were so closely involved in those tragic events of old.

It's September 19th 1977, and the entire Saimon family celebrates the 99th birthday of their old matriarch, Saimon Tamako. The celebration takes place on a performance stage next to the family's main residence in Tsuwano, Shimane Prefecture. Tamako’s daughter Akiko pushes the matriarch’s wheelchair towards the stage.

A perceptive guest may notice two other old women in the crowd who look astonishingly like Saimon Tamako, though they are a little younger (97). These are twin sisters called—if you can believe it—Tsukumo Tamako and Tousen Tamako. The three Tamakos look near identical, and in fact once used that similarity for their magic acts: all secretly shared the single stage name of Soga Tenju. That was decades ago, of course. The Tamakos no longer look like the beautiful young woman (actually women plural) known from her most famous illusion, Courtisane and Bell.

Once Akiko and Tamako take their place on the stage, all the lights suddenly go out for just a second, and in that brief darkness two things happen.

One: the red-and-white stripes of the celebratory curtain decorating the stage suddenly turn into black-and-white stripes of a funeral curtain.

Two: Saimon Tamako dies.

Saimon Tamako is ruled to have died of natural causes, not unusual at her age, and the curtain changing color must have been just someone’s attempt at a distasteful joke.

However, the threat of something darker going on still seems to lurk in the background. There’s a lot of people with bad intentions in this world. As part of the Saimons, Akiko is well aware of that. She recalls what she knows about the family's past.

Back at the beginning of the 20th century, Saimon Tamako made her living performing magic with a traveling circus group. Eventually she met a rich man, married him, and with his financial help established the Soga Tenju troupe.

Of course, the magician Soga Tenju was actually three women, all looking identical, all having similarly unclear pasts and wandering with the same group, all being called simply Tamako because no one even knew their real names.

It happened that three rich men of Tsuwano, who all have been friends—Saimon Taishin, Tsukumo Taigen, and Tousen Taikun—fell for the same “Soga Tenju”, and upon discovering the secret behind the magician decided to marry one member of the trio each. Since this was the era it was, the women didn’t really have a say in the matter. (Akiko hopes for more emancipation in the future and feels sad that she probably won’t live to see it; she’s over sixty herself.)

The tendency for similar names came with all sides of the family, it seemed. The three rich men were themselves a little weird, and that shared “Tai” in their names was something they added intentionally to show their bond. Their respective firstborn children—Tsukumo Haruko, Tousen Natsuko and Saimon Akiko—were given names referring to haru (spring), natsu (summer) and aki (fall). Since the Tamakos were so similar looking, their daughters also looked close enough that one could mistake them for triplets.

Akiko herself has three sons—Taishi, Akio, and Takayoshi—but now that they are all adults, they no longer feel so close to her, especially the youngest Takayoshi, who never felt inclined to stage illusion and broke all contact with the family. He didn’t show up for Tamako’s birthday and even now, a month later, hasn’t contacted them yet.

On October 19th, Akiko is busy sewing new props for a magic routine, the Five-Ball Cascade, in which juggled balls seem to change colors between red and white in mid-air. Remembering her times as the young magician Soga Tenshuu, she attempts the act just one more time. As she throws the balls in the air, she feels a stabbing pain in her chest and suddenly sees familiar faces in the balls—her mother, her husband, her sons—changing from white to red, like a bloody cascade. As they fall to the ground, Akiko does too.

A month later, on November 19th, a few members of the Saimon family are combing the Tottori sand dunes in search for young Saimon Yuuta, who went missing the previous day after announcing he’d like to show them something at the site. Everyone’s on edge; it’s barely been a month since Akiko's death.

A rope is found sticking out of Umanose, the famous “horse-back” dune, and several people pulling on it manage to unearth what looks like a giant card—four of diamonds—and Yuuta’s corpse tied to it.

Not even a few years have passed since JDC’s founding when young detective Ajiro Souji and his wife Mizuki take part in Saimon Tamako’s tragic birthday celebration.

The couple feels at home in Shimane, both because Mizuki was born in the prefecture, and because Ajiro has been friends with the Saimon family ever since receiving their help during the Ajiro Family Murder Case—the experience which prompted him to create JDC in the first place.

That case, as usual, was solved by his grandfater Soujin and mentor Shiranui Zenzou [and if you want to know more about it, read Carnival]. Both of them are splendid detectives, but decided young Souji should be the one to become JDC’s representative instead.

...but we keep saying "JDC" here, and the truth is the tiny group doesn’t call itself by the fancy English name Japan Detectives Club yet. It goes simply by Nihon Tantei Club and occupies the third floor of an office building filled with boutiques, clinics and the like.

Aside from Ajiro the representative, the staff consists of six office workers and twelve detectives (not counting Soujin, who is almost always out on business). The detectives are divided into the Shiranui Section and Kirigirisu Section, named after their respective leaders. There is some tension between the sections: the Shiranui part puts more value on past experience and doesn’t approve of choosing young Souji as their representative, while the Kirigirisu part praises his potential and thinks of the organization’s future.

So far Nihon Tantei Club is pretty unknown, no dramatic and giant solved cases to their name, and everyone has a strange conflicting feeling: at once wishing for the peace to never end and wishing for the inevitable tragedy to just happen already; to just get to the point where what should be unusual becomes the new normal, because everyone knows deep down it has to happen one day.

On November 22nd, Kirigirisu Tarou as usual takes the train to work, thinking about how the world will inevitably change as the new century comes around—though, of course, he can’t be sure he will actually get to see it, as nobody knows what will have happened in over twenty years.

Maybe he’s mulling over the passage of time and worries about the future so much because he's a man without a past. Kirigirisu lost all his memories to head injury a few years ago, at the same time when he was wrongly accused of murder. Fortunately, he was proven innocent thanks to both Ajiros, could begin new life as a detective, and even found a wonderful wife called Kano. He would love it if this usual everyday life could continue indefinitely… although without crime, a detective like him would be out of a job. For now he wants to focus on helping the Ajiros as he can.

Kirigirisu arrives at the office, which is mostly empty this early in the morning. Well, except for the delinquent detective Raiouji Rokenrou, looking just like you’d expect a punk named after rock’n’roll to look like (sunglasses, a lot of hair gel…) and taking a nap on the couch. Apparently Ajiro Souji had a long meeting with him about something last night, and now wants to talk to Kirigirisu.

Ajiro Souji is a sharply dressed 29-year-old man, easy to mistake for a normal office worker in the crowd. (Kirigirisu always flinches a bit seeing his elegant tie; he himself has a strange phobia of wearing anything around his neck, which he suspects has to do with an unknown event forever hidden behind his amnesia).

They each light a cigarette and have a friendly conversation. Ajiro mentions that he recently tried to switch to cigars, but alas, it seems that it’s still “too early” for him to appreciate them; about forty years too early, according to grandpa Soujin. [Seeing as Ajiro is a huge cigar fan in most of the series, grandpa miscalculated by at least two decades.]

Soujin is a thin man of short stature who hardly looks like someone in their seventies, although his hair is just as white as his usual suit, with just a black bowtie breaking the color. He always gives off the air of a mafia boss, his sheer power of personality taking hold of everyone around. Soujin apparently feels constant wanderlust, so he almost never shows up at the office. In fact, Kirigirisu hasn't seen him in over two months now. Who knows what he’s doing.

But back to the situation at hand, Ajiro wants Kirigirisu's help. For the next few days, they will investigate a case together in another prefecture, Rokenrou taking care of Kirigirisu’s section in his absence.

The case surrounds a strange series of deaths. First, Saimon Tamako dying (seemingly) of old age on her birthday on September 19th. Second, her daughter Akiko suffering a (seemingly) accidental death on October 19th, when a misplaced sewing needle stabbed into her heart. And third, a very strange but (seemingly) accidental death of another Saimon family member that has just happened on November 19th. Ajiro and Kirigirisu are to investigate whether or not the perfectly spaced string of incidents may be an act of serial killing.

The case is of personal importance to Ajiro. After all, the person who requested their services is the same man that helped solve the Ajiro Family Murder Case: Saimon Ryuusui, known better as the great magician Soga Tensui.

(The third person narration swaps here to a completely different font, and informs us helpfully: but ah, before the two detectives could head to Tsuwano, they would go to Yamaguchi first, to watch the magic show of the Saimon family, a marvelous experience that Ajiro has already had a few times because of his friendship with the family, and that Kirigirisu would witness for the first time.

And from the very moment they were invited to see the show first, they felt uneasiness settle inside them. Only much, much later would one realize just how deep the hidden meaning of the show really was, and that solving all its mysteries was crucial to solving the Saimon Family Murder Case.

You could even say that the show itself, filled with so many wondrous mysteries to solve, was the true Saimon Family Murder Case. If so, then the magician Soga Tensui could be defined as its culprit—and if so, then Ajiro and Kirigirisu have just walked right into a marvelous illusion indeed.)

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

#sparkly reads the saimon family case #maijo and jdc stuff

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alegacyofmikalsons · 4 years

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The Act of Living Chp. 3: A Link of Fate

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has read and supported this, I've loved seeing your reactions to what is happening. As you can see this chapter is a flashback, I want to include some of these to give some background context for why Sera has the relationship to all of them that she does. I also wanna include some other important moments from her past that don't involve them as well. I'll probably be including these every three to four chapters, depending on where it would make sense to put this in the story.

I've already started the next chapter so hopefully it won't take quite as long to finish as these ones have.

Rating: Mature

Series Summary: Klaus and Elijah were supposed to die, but fate in the form of new friends Serafina Hewitt and her sister Stevie intervened. A year later Stevie is dead and Sera returns to New Orleans to see her friends and investigate her suspicions about what happened. When it’s confirmed that a powerful hunter group is responsible, she realizes a much bigger threat is coming, one that threatens all of New Orleans. As they race to stop it, she gets more than she bargained for, finding the truth about who she is and a growing attachment towards a certain Mikalson. Most importantly, they all get answers to the biggest riddle of all: what the act of living really means.

Link to Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/874712498-the-act-of-living-chapter-3-a-link-of-fate

@kinda-iconic @endlesshero1122 @bbchoices @katelynnicolerollins @im-a-bisexual-mess

If anyone else wants to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know and I’l add you!

New Orleans, LA - 2019

The streets teemed with locals and tourists alike as I searched for any signs of potential danger. In New Orleans, there was plenty to look out for. There were the normal creeps looking for a harmless young woman to bring home and the rogue vampire who didn't want to wait until midnight to obtain their refill. However, the thing that concerned me the most was the group of hunters who wanted me dead more than any other powerful being. While not a typical threat here, if they ever learned how important this place was to me they could become one.

"Are you sure we should be out here?" I asked.

Hearing a sigh, I finally glance over in time to catch my sister rolling her eyes. "Uh yes. Taking part in the nightlife here is practically a requirement."

We slowed to a stop as she looked at one of the bars along the street, Rousseau's.

"Says the person whose ID is fake?" I crossed my arms raising an eyebrow.

"Oh come on, that hasn't mattered before." When my expression didn't waver, she gave me a pout. "Come on. Don't be such a Debbie Downer Sera! We'll be fine, especially if I stay by you."

Letting out a sharp exhale, I muttered, "That's what everyone in Mirebrook thought too until Nemean showed up."

Until I gave my heart to the worst person I could have.

I didn't say that part out loud but, judging by the scowl forming on Stevie's face, I didn't have to.

"No," she stated, shaking her head adamantly. "We are not bringing them up, especially not James. In fact, you aren't going to think about them for the rest of this trip. It's not like they're going to follow us here. Even if they do, there aren't any large events this weekend for them to crash. So, let's just get out of that overactive mind of yours and have a good time. Who knows when we'll be able to come back."

This didn't ease my anxiety entirely, but she did make a dent in it. She was also right. I did love being in New Orleans again after twelve years. As soon as we drove into the city limits, I felt like I was returning home, something Mirebrook hadn't felt like in years.

"Fine," I told her after a minute. "But, we're leaving before midnight. You know what happens then. And if anything goes wrong, I'm blaming it on you."

A contagious grin spread across her face. "Deal. Now, is this place fine or should we walk further?"

I read the sign above the door once more turning my attention to the inside. I remembered it being popular when I was here last, at least with the underage crowd since they were pretty lenient. However, I was barely in high school when we left so, I didn't get to join in much. Most of the few parties I attended were in the Bayou.

"Yeah, this is fine," I told her with a nod. "Let's go before I change my mind."

Following her inside, the bar is already filled to the brim with loud conversations and dancing. After a minute, we were able to snag the last two open seats at the counter. I took the time to examine the surrounding scene. Everyone seemed to be having a good time with a live band playing a jazz tune.

"Sorry about the wait," I heard the bartender shout over the noise. Quickly, I turned back around to find her eyes carefully trained on us. "I'll have to see some ID, you both look a little young."

We both handed them over without a fuss. It didn't take much time at all for her to return Stevie's fake with a nod. However, when she got to my genuine card she paused, looking back and forth in disbelief.

I traded a knowing look with my sister. Ever since I was a teenager, I appeared younger than my real age, the difference becoming more prominent as I got older.

Finally, after another minute, the woman returned my card shaking her head. "Well, I'm not quite sure I believe it but, it looks legit"

"Yeah, I know. I get that a lot," I replied with a shrug. "It certainly isn't the strangest thing to find in this city."

The lady at the counter suppressed a laugh. "It definitely isn't. Anyway, what can I get you, ladies?"

"Rum and coke please," Stevie said, excitement tingling in her veins.

"And I'll have a Vieux Carre."

It was the Big Easy after all. But there was another sentimental reason why I picked the whiskey cocktail, it was our dad's signature. Since this trip was to honor him a year after his death, it felt right.

"Interesting choice. I'll have those ready as soon as I can. In the meantime, enjoy the entertainment. It's open mic tonight."

She turned away to make our drinks and I sighed, focusing my attention back on the stage where a man sprang up with a lively grin. As he approached the microphone, I raised my eyebrows.

Marcel Gerard.

Our parents talked about him frequently when we still lived here since he was running the supernatural scene. He implemented the rule banning witches from practicing magic, keeping Stevie from studying her spells for a few years and me from using dark magic. However, unlike many at the time, our parents didn't really protest the rule out in the open. While they didn't particularly like it, they understood where it was coming from, that the witches' added fuel to the ever-burning flame among the different factions. That ability to see every side is something they instilled in us and that I took to heart. So, Marcel often came to them when he needed a favor requiring magic, giving our family an exception in return.

"How's it going?" he exclaimed, causing the small crowd to cheer. "Who's ready for some music?"

Hearing the bartender shout that our drinks were ready, I took mine from the counter with a courteous smile. "Thanks."

Bringing the glass to my lips, I was surprised to find myself enjoying more than expected as I let it linger on my tongue. In fact, the more I tasted it, the more it became my new favorite.

Looking over, I noticed Stevie's face scrunched up in disgust. "Don't tell me you actually like that."

"What can I say," I answered, gladly having another sip. "Dad had good taste."

I frowned for a moment before shaking it off. This wasn't supposed to be sad, he wouldn't want that. As I scanned the masses of people, I couldn't help tapping to the beat. Music has always been a passion of mine since it was one of the few things I did that felt effortless. It was more feeling than thinking. Which, for my overactive mind was a needed comfort. Soon, only half of my drink was left and I willed myself to slow down, remembering to pace myself. My tolerance was high but, it wasn't roofless.

"Come, let's dance!" Stevie shouted, hopping off her stool.

I debated turning her down but, then I remembered I was supposed to be having a good time. Sighing, I stood up and took my drink with me.

"Oh, why not."

Wading through the crowd we managed to get ourselves relatively close to the stage. With a giggle, she spun me around, catching me off guard for a split second. She was definitely more buzzed than I was but, then again, she was a bit more of a lightweight and had less experience.

"Hey, take it easy, I am not losing my drink." I told her, trying not to encourage her antics with my laughter. "Or breaking a glass."

"You're no fun," she complained but, let go of my arm.

I rolled my eyes, continuing to dance on my own until the song ended. Pausing, I took a deep breath as my heart raced with an electric feeling. I hadn't been this happy in ages, not like this anyway. Realizing Stevie was no longer beside me, I glanced around a little concerned.

Then, I heard her voice shout from the other side of the dance floor. "Vincent!"

At the name I turned to see her approaching a long time friend of our parents, our dad especially. Smiling, I quickly made my way over being careful not to bump into anyone. When I arrived, I found them deep in conversation.

"Last time you were here, you were about this short and had bright pink braces," he told her.

She scowled, her nose wrinkling at the end. "Ugh, I'd like to forget that ever happened, thank you."

"That is definitely not going to happen, Stevie," I chimed in. "He's seen you in diapers. Something I didn't even get to witness."

Turning in my direction, the grin on his face widened. "Sera. It is sure good to see you in person."

I got pulled into a tight hug that filled me with nostalgia.

"It's good to see you too Vincent," I said once we separated. "Only took a death to bring us back."

A sad look entered his eyes and he swallowed. He and our dad were friends since they were both kids. "I still can't believe he's gone. It's been, what a year now?"

Vincent watched both of us grow up at least somewhat. In fact, he was the reason I was adopted at all. It was him I met first when he stopped by the foster home to donate some supplies. Then, my parents showed up the following week. I didn't know until years later that he was the one who encouraged them to do so. Without him, my whole life would be completely different.

Biting my lip I nodded. "Yeah, it certainly doesn't feel like it."

"Is Mary not here?" he asked, scanning the bar surrounding us.

Our mother.

"No, she didn't feel like coming with us tonight," I replied. "Not really her scene. But, she did plan for all of us to come to visit tomorrow. I hope that's okay."

His expression brightened once more. "Of course it is. She actually already ran it by me the other day, wanted to make sure I would be available. Tell her I look forward to seeing her."

"I will." Taking another sip of my drink, I asked, "So, are you here with anyone, or are you drinking by yourself?"

Hesitating, Vincent ran a hand along the back of his neck. "I'm actually meeting up with...a family I know. The one I've complained about before."

Suppressing a smirk, I remarked, "Ah, so they're what...frenemies?"

"You could say that. One of them invited me and I couldn't really say no. She can be a bit persuasive."

I raised my eyebrows in interest. "Oh, I hope we're not keeping you from them."

"You're not, I'm still waiting for them to arrive," he replied with a half-hearted chuckle. "Actually, why don't you can stick around and I'll introduce them to you. You actually might get along which would be very helpful for me."

I let out an aggravated sigh. "Vince, I am not going to be your pawn for ass-kissing. I have to do that enough at home, I do not need more." However, I found myself becoming curious about these acquaintances. "But, I will meet them, only because I want to. From what you've told me, they sound interesting."

"Yeah, that's...definitely a word for it. More like dangerous and cruel when provoked."

Well, now I was definitely interested. "Is that supposed to make me dislike them? Because it is not working. I can be like that if the impulses take over, you know that. That doesn't necessarilly make me a bad person."

He flashed a disapproving look at me. He always tried to steer me away from the dark energy's effect on my desires. I didn't necessarily love that part of myself either but, I'd accepted its presence a while ago. It was a part of who I was. Plus, the more I used it, the more I learned to control it.

A wave of cheering and applause erupted around us and I looked just in time to see the person currently onstage finishing their song.

Marcel hopped back up as the noise died down slightly. "We'll be taking a five-minute break but, after that, since there are no more names on the list here, anyone can come up to play something."

Vincent glanced in that direction before giving me a grin. "You should go up there Sera."

"What, me?" I stammered as a subtle warmth grew in my cheeks. Then, I shook my head, mild anxiety coursing through me. "I don't...not in front of all these people."

It wasn't a lack of confidence that held me back, but the prospect of being noticed because that led to prejudice. During my childhood and adolescence, most of the attention I received from strangers and acquaintances were for things I didn't want to be known for. Actions I couldn't control. It was easier to be invisible, without any expectations or labels being placed on me. I wanted to be able to choose how moral I wanted to be, without the restriction of reputation.

"Come on sis," Stevie exclaimed, her eyes pleading once more. "You have the voice of a goddess. One of these days you're going to have to let the world hear it. Plus, I know how much you enjoy it."

I pressed my lips together. "That's not..." Once again this evening, the lessons I've given her on rhetoric backfired. "I don't even have an instrument with me."

Vincent shrugged this off, the determination now fierce in his eyes. "That's not a problem. The guitar up there is for anyone to use."

Looking back at the stage, I found what he was referring to and let out a silent gasp. It was one of the nicest ones I'd ever seen. The wood was a beautiful brown color with black on the edges. It was of good quality and the right amount of worn-in too. As soon as I saw it, my fingers itched with the temptation to pick it up.

"I see that look Sera," he said, snapping me out of my daze. "Do it for me will you? I haven't heard you live yet, just the recordings your parents sent me."

I peered back at the stage, as my resolve began to dissolve. The desire to create, that euphoric feeling, it tugged until I had to say yes. It was one of the more common ways my blood influenced me.

After a minute, I sighed. "Oh, alright. One song."

Stevie let out another squeal, spinning me around until I was slightly dizzy. "I win again." Setting me down, her gaze turned bittersweet for a second. "Will you sing one of Dad's favorites?"

I found myself swallowing a dry lump as I nodded. "Yeah, I can do that."

Clearing my throat, I finish off the last of my drink, handing the glass to her. Then, I approached the stage, nerves crawling all over my stomach. The person with the clipboard, a boy around my age, looked up with a sloppy grin. His eyes roamed my figure appreciatively. Instinctively, I tensed ever so slightly.

"Well hello, to you. Interested?" he crooned, tilting his head towards the small stage. His hair was slicked back with too much gel that it needed.

He reminded me a little too much of J...no. I needed to stop thinking about him. About what he did.

Feigning a smile, I nodded. "I am. What do I have to do?"

"Just sign here with your name and the song you're doing," he said, his words blurring together. "You'll be up first when we resume things."

I simply took the pencil from him and jotted the information down. "Anything else?"

"Nope, just wait here until we call for you. Won't be too long." He leaned in, more than a little too close for comfort. "You have a vibe, you know. Mysterious, dark. I like it."

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed," I quipped deliberately taking a step back. "Let me save you some effort, I'm not interested."

He responded by letting out a chuckle. "Oh come on, I won't disappoint. At least let me buy you a drink." He inched forward once more, even closer than last time.

Strong coils of dread seized my stomach as the urge to do something violent took over.

"What part of 'I'm not interested' don't you understand?" I hissed with a glare.

Making sure no one was paying attention, I kept my eyes on him as I concentrated on the dark energy lying in my veins until it stirred ever so slightly. His smirk vanished as his eyes widened, no doubt noticing how my eyes had darkened and the orange glow.

"What the--?" Before he could finish his face contorted in visible pain as the blood boiled beneath his skin. "Ow!"

I continued for a little longer then released him to gasp and shudder. "Keep your hands to yourself, and we won't have any more problems. Is that clear?"

He let out an agonized groan. "Yes, I got it, thank you."

"Good." Smiling, I walked away to the other side of the stage to wait.

"Okay everyone, who's ready for more music?" Marcel eventually exclaimed setting off a loud cheer. "Now up onstage we have, Serafina Hewitt, singing Neon Moon."

Taking a deep breath, I climbed up on the black platform and grabbed the guitar from the hand, slipping it around me. Feeling the comfort of the instrument in my hands I relaxed enough to approach the microphone with a nervous smile.

"This is for my dad, Anthony Hewitt," I said, my voice wavering.

I pulled up the stool at the back of the stage and sat down, adjusting the mic stand until it sat perfectly in line an inch or so away. I took out the pic I always kept in the pocket of my jeans, mainly as a good luck charm, and placed my hands in the right position. Searching the bar, I found my sister and Vincent who were now at the counter joined by several people. They had to be the family he wanted me to meet. This made the nerves increase but, I pushed past them.

Closing my eyes, I strummed the first chords. "When the sun goes down on my side of town, that lonesome feeling comes to my door, and the whole world...turns blue. And there's a run down bar across the railroad tracks, I got a table for two way in the back...where I sit alone...and I think of losing you. I spend most every night beneath the light of a neon moon." I felt myself smile and start to let go as the chorus came in fully. "If you lose your one and only, there's always room here for the lonely. To watch your broken dreams dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon."

Now, I as I looked out, the stares of the people listening didn't matter anymore. Everything drowned out except me and the music until all too soon, I approached the end.

"To watch your broken dreams dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon." I played the last note, letting it reverberate in silence.

Once it died, I sat back with a smile as people began to clap enthusiastically. It made me a bit sheepish but, not as terrified as I was in Mirebrook whenever I played at the local café.

"Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your night." I placed everything back where I found it and climbed down to reunite with Stevie and Vincent.

After a minute, I finally made it through.

"Okay Vince you were right," I said.

He looked in my direction his grin straining his cheeks. "Sera, that was amazing. Had the whole place in the palm of your hand."

"Thanks," I responded, tucking a loose strand behind my ear.

Once again I soon found Stevie's arms wrapped around tightly threatening to cut off my air supply. "I knew you would kill it!"

"And you are killing my lungs right now," I wheezed, and she immediately let go.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it! You were just so good."

Laughing dryly, I remarked, "Yeah, I know you can't help depriving me of oxygen."

As she stuck her tongue out at me, I turned my attention to the people I'd noticed earlier speaking to themselves. Now that I had a good look at their faces, I knew I'd seen them before, in my head. Not from my memories but theirs. After a beat, I realized with surprise who they were.

Oh my god. The Mikalsons.

I knew their story well, anyone who grew up within a school for the mystic did. But, the other version I received painted a more holistic, human picture of them. The two certainly had similarities, such as the endless number of people they'd killed over the centuries. But, they also had differences. I started receiving their memories back in high school after we started to cover them in supernatural history. The first was a painful one from ages ago, probably around the time they first were turned. The intensity of it all woke me up, and I'd been unable to stop thinking about it the rest of the night and following morning. Then, in class that afternoon, I began to question what they were telling me. I wondered just how much information was hyperbolic.

After that, I continued to see them almost daily until the end of that unit. After that, they occasionally showed up though it was only once every few months now. Strangely, I didn't mind. For some reason, I felt like I could sometimes relate to what they went through. Balancing the different parts of yourself, having this darkness that sometimes took over. Even letting it when it was easier to forget you had a heart.

I caught myself staring, and I blinked, willing myself to look away before one of them noticed. The last thing I wanted to do was make them feel uncomfortable. I decided that I'd wait to judge them until we talked. Lord knows I would love someone to look past the demon blood and destructive powers for once.

Glancing at Vincent once more, I raised my eyebrows in interest. "So, Vince, you promised me an introduction to these friends of yours, did you not?"

"I did," he replied. "Let's see, we have Freya, Rebekah, Kol, Elijah, and last but not the least Klaus." I followed along silently as he named each of them. "And this is Serafina. She's Tony and Mary's other daughter."

"The adopted one I presume?" Klaus commented, his grin widening.

He received a punch on the arm from Rebekah. "Nik! You can't just say that. Excuse my brother he has the manners of a two-year-old."

I shrugged it off.

"Oh it's fine," I answered with a laugh. "It's something I don't mind people pointing out. It doesn't make a difference they're the only family I've really had."

"I presume you don't know your birth parents then?" Elijah observed in mild curiosity.

Getting lost in his inquisitive stare, it was a minute before I responded. "I don't know anything about them really."

I scolded myself for being so flustered all of a sudden. Though I had to admit, his eyes were captivating, even more in person. I snapped out of it, noticing the smirk on his face.

"Except that, at least one of them isn't human, right? Or did that poor fellow suffer an aneurysm all by himself?"

So much for being subtle. At least I didn't have to feel guilty about my knowledge of them. Hearing Stevie snickering next to me, I pursed my lips.

"No, that was me," I admitted freely. "Though I figured it was that or breaking his hand when he put it on me without my permission."

This received some more laughter from his siblings and even an impressed look from Rebekah. "Sounds like the bastard deserved it then."

I found myself smiling at this. No wonder Vincent couldn't get rid of them.

"I sure thought so." I returned my gaze to Elijah. "Now, I'm guessing what you really want to know is what I am."

He opened his mouth then closed it. "You could say that. Usually, it's a bit more noticeable. Vampire I'm guessing?"

"Demon, actually," I answered. "Well, a half-blooded one anyway, but that just means we work up here, on Earth. We absorb malevolent souls which transports them to Hell. It also gives us a little more power for a short amount of time."

He almost choked on his drink, his eyebrows raised once more. "Demon...I knew you existed but I don't think we've ever met one."

I feigned shock. "Even with that thousand-year life span? That's...a bit surprising," I replied with a smug look.

Now he was the flustered one which only increased the satisfaction.

"Ah, so you do know who we are," Klaus laughed.

I scoffed loudly. "Of course I do, you're the Mikalsons. What supernaturally gifted person hasn't? I mean you're taught in schools now these days." I ignored Vincent's cautionary stare. "I just didn't feel the need to point it out until now."

"There's no need to be shy love," he chuckled to himself. "Most people make it known either in disgust or fear."

Shrugging, I remarked, "Yes, well, I try not to be like most people. And from outside research, I know the people who wrote the story of you have a bit of a bias. So, while my lessons were entertaining, they haven't influenced too much." The stranger sitting on the barstool next to Freya left and I immediately took his place. "See, not bothered. In fact, I kinda like you. Now, I'm gonna need another drink."

This was met with an array of smiles including from Elijah. "The feeling's mutual."

There's no way I could be Vincent's little spy now. It was an innate pull as if the universe wanted to forge a link between us, a link of fate. However, I wouldn't know why until years later. When the thing that I once hated would prove to be exactly what they needed.

#the originals #elijah mikalson #elijah Mikalson x oc

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