#its the word junkie its so harsh makes me sad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cancelingthenoise · 3 years

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Unworthy

Soooo, after a 13 year hiatus, I’m trying to get back into writing and where better to start than fan fiction and with my fave OTP. But buckle up, it’s a heavy one. Hopefully I’ve tagged all the appropriate trigger warnings; apologies if I’ve missed any - please let me know if I have!!

Summary: Addict. Junkie. Worthless. He has been gone for three years and is ready to come home, but his biggest enemy is still the one inside.

Rated: Mature (Addiction, Recovery, Implied Drug Use, Drug References, Mild Sexual Content)

Cross-posted to FFN and AO3

He inserts the coins and dials a number he knows by heart. The only one that is permanently branded into the recesses of his mind. As it rings, he hopes – let it be the right number, let it still be her number, let her pick up …

Hello?

“Kagome.”

Inu … Inuyasha?

“I … want to come home.”

Where are you?

He tells her the city, the intersection, the name on the warehouse nearby. Everything that can pinpoint exactly where he is so she can find him.

I’m on my way. Stay put.

There’s a tone in her voice he can’t identify and it sends pangs straight to his heart, but she’s coming. She’s coming.

And so, he waits.

Two hours later a familiar red sedan pulls up in front of him and its driver approaches. She’s older now, tired, he notices as he stands to greet her. He watches as she looks him over. He’s dirty, he knows, and even his demon-blood cannot mask how battered and bruised he is. He’s shocked but admittedly pleased when she wraps her arms around his waist and squeezes him in an embrace. Her scent is altogether lovely and calming, like coming home.

It takes every fiber of his being not to whine when she pulls away and looks him square in the eyes. Her grey eyes are intense and full of contrasting emotions. All for him. “Let’s go.” She finally speaks, her tone decisive and unyielding.

He has nothing but the clothes on his back, but instead of a pitying glance, she nods. It’s almost cathartic that she’s here and he has no physical baggage to take. She tosses her purse from the passenger seat into the back so he can settle in.

He notices the ring when she places her hands on the steering wheel. Ten-and-two, ever predictable.

“You’re engaged.” He cannot hide the shock, the disdain that he feels.

“Yes.”

Her response is sharp and leaves no invitation for a response, but he can’t help it as the jealousy bubbles up through his core.

“Had enough waiting on the addict to clean up his act?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he feels instant regret. He’s always been a hothead who runs his mouth before thinking, but he can tell these words sting deep. They pain him too.

She flinches and releases a haggard breath.

“That’s not fair. You left. You stopped calling. You stopped picking up. You couldn’t even text. And then your number went out. Now you’ve called me from a payphone. It’s been three years.” Her eyes remain firmly on the road, hands clenching the wheel, but he can see her body tremble and hear the strain in her voice. She’s angry. Furious.

He slumps, “I’m sorry.” His whisper is meek as he understands a mere apology is not nearly enough to make amends for the past. It doesn’t explain why he had to disappear, why he went away for so long. It can’t make her understand his reasons.

She nods almost imperceptibly and seems to consider a game plan. “I’ll take you to Sesshomaru’s.”

“No.” He’s vehement. There’s no chance in hell he will turn to his half-brother. Especially now.

“Sango and Miroku’s then.”

“And?” He balks at the conjunction.

“They’re married now. Have been for a year. You would’ve been his Best Man, but …”

She trails off, but he understands. They couldn’t find him, reach him. The hole he left in their lives appears to be much greater than he imagined.

They drive in silence for nearly an hour. He wants to speak, wants to tell her everything, but he can’t find the words; and based on the furtive glances she keeps sending him, she can’t either.

“I was so scared you were dead.” She finally whimpers.

“Some days I wished I was.” He admits forlornly.

She looks at him for a few moments before staring back at the road, brows furrowed, mouth turned down.

“I’m glad you’re not.”

Those are the last words spoken before silence consumes them again.

After they hit the city limits, she drives to a house in the suburbs. It looks like a dream with its double-attached garage and neatly manicured lawn. A chokecherry tree sits among a bed of flowers in the middle of the green; simple yet attractive and he knows whose home he stands in front of. She leads him from the driveway to the royal blue front door and it opens almost immediately, revealing two faces he has longed to see almost as much as Kagome’s. Their expressions are a combination of disbelief and relief. Miroku does not hesitate to embrace him with a sigh as Sango looks on with tears in her eyes. He reaches a tentative hand out to her which she grasps tightly with a closed smile.

They usher him into the house and guide him to their kitchen. Miroku settles him into a spot at the breakfast bar as Sango pours him a glass of water. They do not speak, though the questions in their eyes are obvious. Miroku nods at him as he and Sango walk back to the door, to Kagome. She hasn’t come in. Her face has been drawn since they stopped speaking during the drive.

He waits inside the kitchen as they speak outside. He could train his ears to listen to their conversation, and briefly considers it, but he chooses not to. His absence has prohibited him from those intimacies. They are different people now, just as he is. They are probably discussing how to get him on his feet again as quickly as possible so they can get back to their lives. Why would they want him to stay? Why would they want him around for longer than necessary?

Miroku and Sango return to him. He hears the telltale roar of an engine and knows Kagome has gone. He feels sadness, but knows why she’s left without a word. After all, who can jump right into caring for your former partner who has all but risen from the grave?

Sango looks him over, assessing him thoroughly. He avoids her eyes, unsure of what emotions she’s wearing and afraid to meet them. Shame fills his bones. Maybe he should have stayed away. Maybe he should have stayed dead in their minds. He is a spot on their pristine lives.

Miroku refills his glass of water and replaces it on the counter before sitting on the stool beside him.

“You’re alive,” he finally breathes.

Inuyasha meets Miroku’s gaze and is warmed to see compassion and joy in his deep blue eyes. The shame that was eating him just moments ago fades ever so slightly.

“You’re home.” Miroku states, “It’s a miracle. Where have you been? What have you been doing?”

The dam is officially broken and all the questions that he knew were coming are finally bare, and despite everything, he feels entirely unprepared to answer. So he starts slow, begins with the day they last saw him. He tells them of his travels, the hitchhiking, the homelessness, but skimps out on the details of things he has done, the sins he has committed. Those are secrets he will take to the grave. He is unwilling to mar the consciences of those he loves.

“Have you…” Sango shakes her head, unable to finish her question, but he fully comprehends what she means to ask.

“No. I’ve been clean since the day I left.”

“Then why?”

“Loose ends.” He murmurs. “I had to settle my debts. They … they would’ve come for her if I didn’t comply.”

“For so long?”

Three years is nothing, he wants to tell them. He’s lucky he only had to serve that long. Naraku is a malevolent bastard and exploits the last breath out of most. Frankly, his death would have been an easier price to pay.

“I had to earn my freedom.” He admits this ashamedly and hopes they don’t press for more.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It wasn’t so simple.”

“So you disappeared.” Sango states brusquely, her tone is harsh and unforgiving. “You broke her heart, you know. You broke all of our hearts when you left.”

That admission freezes him from the inside. He knew his absence would be difficult for them all, but hearing it spoken aloud affects him more than he thought it would. He imagines Kagome sobbing into her pillow. It’s a scene that is all too familiar, he’s caused her many tears – too many.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He repeats his submissive apology from earlier and slumps, his forehead almost touching the counter.

“You’re here now,” Miroku responds comfortingly and places a hand on his shoulder, “You’re here. You’re alive. You’re safe. That’s what matters. We can help you now, if you want it.”

He lifts his head and looks directly at Sango whose cinnamon eyes convey grief and yet hold a glimmer of hope. He turns to Miroku who is awaiting his response.

“Yes.” He declares, confidence daring to materialize, “Please.”

Later that evening he is settling into the spare bedroom they’ve given him. Before him is a suitcase of his belongings that Kagome has dropped off on the front step. He takes a breath and opens it. He is quickly overcome with her sweet scent which is deeply embedded in each item. The clothes are slightly too big for him now. Three years of constantly moving, being on the run, and meager meals have diminished his former stature.

Amongst his clothes is a red leather-bound book. A journal. It smells more intimately of Kagome than everything else. She has wept openly on these pages, he can tell. He opens it and thumbs quickly through the pages. Each entry is a letter addressed to him. As he flips through the journal certain phrases jump out at him amidst the lines of her loopy hand.

I want to hate you.

Where are you?

I wish I had never met you.

Are you alive?

I wish I could hold you.

Please come home.

I love you.

He shudders as he realizes that these pages hold missives from the last three years. These are Kagome’s thoughts, her feelings. This is an intimacy he thought was nearly impossible now. She has to have put this with his things on purpose. She’s thorough like that. Every action is purposeful, thoughtful. He finds the last entry in the journal, it’s dated today.

Inuyasha,

This is a collection of letters that I began writing when I realized you weren’t coming home anytime soon. Eventually I thought you weren’t coming home at all. I used these to talk to you as if you were still by my side. I don’t know what you’ve been through and maybe giving you this journal is selfish of me, but I needed you to see.

I hope they help you understand why I can’t be the one to help you right now. I need time. It’s ironic saying that after you’ve been gone for three years. It feels like there’s been nothing but time between us. I thought you were dead when I received your call today. I thought I was hearing a ghost. I’m so grateful you’re alive, but things are different now. We are not the same people we were before.

I need to figure this out.

Please understand.

Kagome

It isn’t until tears splatter on the page that he realizes he is crying. Of course she needs time. He knew this was a possibility when he made the phone call this afternoon. He’d hoped against hope that she would come for him and take him back fully. But that was wishful thinking. He knew there was a chance she would turn him away. She could have hung up as soon as she heard his voice. But she came for him, made arrangements for him. But she is engaged to another man. She needs to figure out if there is still room in her life for him.

For her, he’d wait a lifetime. Even to just be her friend.

It is another three months before he sees Kagome again. He’s read that journal more times than he cares to admit. All her sleepless nights are immortalized in those grid-lined pages, that he’s now dog-eared and bookmarked. Her worries, fears, even her dreams laid bare. He knows how often she cried when he was in the depths of his addictions, but it has taken this journal to make him truly appreciate how deeply he hurt her, even after he was gone. And to his astonishment, it wasn’t the behaviour that hurt her the most, it was his poor viewpoint of himself.

I wish you could see you how I do.

I should have told you more what you meant to me.

I regret every moment I didn’t say “I love you.”

He knows Sango sees her regularly, he can always scent her when Sango arrives home. It’s not as if they’re keeping their meetings a secret, but he’s respecting her space even though it kills him. It bothers him when he can smell the sadness of her tears and the tinge of fatigue. He wonders what causes her tears these days, why she’s so often tired, why sometimes there’s a trace of illness in her scent that lingers on Sango. From Miroku he learns that she’s busy with her residency at the hospital. Ever the studious achiever. Ever wanting to help others. To heal.

This is the reason he knows she’d never give up on him. It’s why she was the one he called. She’s a walking bleeding heart, always has been. She sees the best in people, even when their best is a mere speck amidst obscurity. When he was at his worst, she stood by him. When everyone else had lost hope and he’d been slipping deeper into his addictions, his darkness, she stayed. She brought him back from the brink of death’s door one too many times. Back then, she truly loved him. And he’s holding onto hope with every fiber of his being that she still does.

He hopes she’s proud of him and the progress he’s making. Since he’s been back, he’s found work thanks to Miroku’s contacts in construction. He’s proven himself to be a hard worker and has met a journeyman to mentor him as an apprentice in iron work. It’s also helped boost his confidence with reintegrating into society. At work, no one cares what his past is, what skeletons he hides in the closet, as long as he gets the job done. At work, they’re all sinners just trying to get by.

He stays away from the parties and the after-work bar stops. He recognizes the patterns in some of his colleagues all too well. One drink leads to two leads to three leads to smack or blow or both which leads to miserable mornings because you’ve spent all night chasing that first-time spark. No matter how hard you try, you can never attain that feeling again and still you chase. It’s the vicious cycle. He’s done with that life. It’s taken too much away from him, cost him too much.

Miroku and Sango have let him know that Kagome will be coming for dinner, so he’s had ample time to prepare. But when she arrives in the doorway and her scent hits him like a freight train, he panics. Has she had enough time? Has she made a decision? Will she want him to stay away? He runs to his room and leans back against the closed door. He’s stared down the barrels of guns with less fear than what he’s experiencing in this moment.

He smells her before he hears her footsteps arriving at his door. Trepidation grips him as he hears her voice call to him for the first time in three months. This is so much harder than that very first phone call that has brought him home.

“Inuyasha?”

She’s there, he can tell her face is pressed to the wood. Her voice is soft, hesitant. Perhaps she is just as nervous as him.

“Can I come in?”

He quakes as he reaches for the handle and turns it painfully slow. He inches the panel open. Finally, finally, he opens it all the way and turns to face her.

Her face is a portrait of concern and tenderness. Her grey eyes are intense as they’ve always been and are already filling with tears. Her arms are wrapped around herself as if she’s blocking a gale.

He steps aside to let her in and shuts the door behind her.

She stares at the floor and he focuses on a spot on the wall above her head for a few moments. He is completely stunned when she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and clutching as hard as she can. As he wraps his arms around her shoulders, she sobs fiercely and he feels tears prick the back of his own eyes.

He cups the back of her head, gently stroking her hair, and whispers repeatedly, “I’m sorry.”

It feels as if hours have passed when Kagome’s tears finally subside. His body protests when she begins to pull away, but she clasps his hand and pulls him to sit on his bed. She pulls a tissue out of her jeans pocket and wipes her face.

“Sango tells me you’ve been working,” her voice is pinched from crying, but he admires her attempts at normal conversation.

“Yeah, it’s going well.”

“Good,”

She smiles then and he thinks it’s the best thing he’s seen in years. Her eyes are red and swollen, and her cheeks are ruddy, but her smile can still light up a room and he’s glad that it’s his.

“I … really am glad that you’re home.”

“Me too,”

“I’ve missed you a lot,

“Me too,” He feels like a goddamn broken record, but he may combust if he attempts more words.

“And … I’d like it if we could start hanging out again.”

He gapes at her, slack-jawed and eyes wide. While he has been hoping for this, it is still a surprise to hear it straight from her lips. His mind races with all the things he wants to say and his heart is lodged in his throat.

“That is … if you’d want to,”

He realizes that he’s taken too long to respond and she’s beginning to backtrack. In a lot of ways, they are still the same people they were; confident in so many circumstances and yet, with each other, eternally hesitant and nervous.

“Of course I want to,”

The words rush out of his mouth in an effort to reassure her.

“I would love to spend time with you. I just wasn’t sure … if you’d …” he’s stumbling and feels like a fool, but he needs her to know. He needs her to understand just how much he wants to be back in her life.

She smiles again and his world warms once more.

“I guess we shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.”

It takes him a moment to remember that their friends are downstairs with dinner and they stand together. He realizes as they descend the stairs that she has not let go of his hand at all. Her diamond ring is notably absent from her finger, but he leaves that question for another time.

Dinner is a simple affair and it’s the lightest he’s felt in years.

- - - - -

If there’s anything his life has taught him, it’s that happiness is temporary. Six months of being home, six months of stability, and three months of having Kagome back in his life on a regular basis have made him happy. It’s a feeling he didn’t think was possible, didn’t think he was worthy of. After all, when life has ceaselessly handed him cruel lessons, why would happiness even be an option? So when it all comes crashing down as he’s out running errands with Miroku, it doesn’t surprise him, but it still hurts like a motherfucker.

“It’s you.”

The words are scathing and resentful. He dreadfully lifts his gaze to meet the eyes of the person who seems to offended by his mere existence. She’s a petite woman with short black hair, but the animosity in her eyes belies her diminutive stature.

“How dare you?” Her tone is soft but punitive. “How dare you insert your filthy little hands back into Kagome’s life. She was finally moving on. She was happy. She was going to marry Akitoki, he would have taken care of her. He was good for her. But you couldn’t stay away. She broke off her engagement because of you. You’re taking advantage of her heart. She’s let go of her chance at happiness, and for what? To take care of you? A worthless little nobody who can’t wait for his next fix?”

The woman is viciously relentless. Her diatribe is unforgiving, slicing him to the very bone.

He is completely frozen. He wants to yell back at her, tell her that he’s quite aware of how he is undeserving of Kagome’s compassion and forgiveness. He knows that he’s been the cause of her pain and tears. He knows he’s gotten more second chances than he deserves. He knows her life was easier without him. He knows Kagome is better than him. ��He knows. Oh, he knows.

He vaguely registers that Miroku has taken a step between them and is reprimanding the woman. Eri, he remembers. She’d been a friend of Kagome’s through school and had been more than vocal of her disapproval of him even then.

Eri quickly turns her malice toward Miroku.

“You’re no friend of Kagome, letting this fuck-up back into her life.”

“That’s enough. I won’t allow you to continue vilifying Inuyasha. And Kagome is fully capable of deciding for herself who she associates with.”

Miroku’s tone is level, but Inuyasha can tell he is running out of patience. Miroku grips his elbow and guides him away from the venomous witch, but not before she can get a final word in.

“You should have stayed dead.”

He flinches then, her phrase echoing endlessly through his mind, settling into his gut and clawing at him from the inside.

Somehow Miroku gets them home, everything is a blur with that bitch’s voice reverberating in his skull. He hears Miroku’s voice, but he cannot focus on the words. All he understands is hatred and disgust. Everything he has worked for is worthless. Is this the way it’s always going to be?

She finds him on the back porch, sitting on the stairs, staring blankly toward the sunset. She sits beside him on the step and sighs. Her voice is weary.

“Miroku told me everything. I’m sorry that happened.”

“She wasn’t wrong.”

“What?” Her shock is more than evident. She clutches his forearm with both hands and he can sense her tears beginning to form, “How can you say that?”

He doesn’t dare look at her, he knows it’ll ruin his resolve. As low as he feels, he feels a ripple of anger brewing in his gut. Eri’s words have been festering in his brain, allowing an old and familiar voice to break through. He’s a half-breed, accepted but unlovable. He’s stupid and useless, completely unworthy of happiness. He’s committed too many wrongs to ever deserve redemption. It’s been a long time, but the feeling inside is one he’ll never forget. He’s craving a high to numb this pain, this goddamn fucking anger.

“If you want that perfect life, you should take it. I don’t want your fucking pity party. I know you look down on me. Poor Inuyasha and his asshole attitude. The only time he’s bearable is when he’s high as a damn kite and that’s only because he doesn’t know up from fucking down. Of course, the downside is that he might stop breathing.” He scoffs harshly, “Or, is that the upside?”

He knows his voice is bitter and that he’s gotten louder. It’s echoing the one Eri used earlier. He’s shaking from the anger, or is it something else? This scene feels all too familiar, almost like déjà vu; but somehow, it’s different now.

“Inuyasha. Stop.”

She’s pleading with him, her grip on his arm has gotten tighter. He knows she’s weeping openly; he can scent her tears and hear the stutter in her breath. It’s all too familiar. After all, this is what he’s good at: making her cry.

“Doesn’t fucking matter I’ve been clean three years. That’s all anyone will see, a fucking deadbeat addict. You’d be better off with that doctor. He can take care of you, pamper you. He’ll be enough. He’ll deserve you. That’s not me. That’ll never be me. All I’ll ever be is a fuck-up.”

“Don’t.”

She whimpers and lets her grip loosen. He’s sure she’s going to walk away, get back in her car and leave. He keeps his stare steady on the sun that has almost completely slipped beyond the horizon. There’s a war waging inside of him – his angels and demons come out to play. Not for the first time, he bitterly wonders if this continued sobriety is worth it. She’s going to leave, just as she should.

When her hand comes up and gently cups his cheek, he is completely undone. She tenderly moves his face, but he keeps his gaze downcast. Her hand is soft and warm to the touch as her thumb swipes away his tears. Of course she’s staying. Her bleeding heart won’t let her leave. He cries for her, her lost opportunities, her damn sympathetic selflessness. But she surprises him again in what she utters; and in her words, he finds hope.

“You have always been enough for me. I have always seen you. The you who loves me and would do anything to protect me. The you who acts tough because you’re scared of rejection. The you who wishes you could change the past. The you who is more determined and smarter than you realize. The you who has worked hard to conquer those shitty demons inside. That’s who I see.”

She sighs and he feels her whole body tremble.

“Every time you used, I was terrified. I was so scared that you wouldn’t wake up one day, that you’d stop breathing, that your heart would fail. That I would lose you. It made me angry, it’s why I pushed you so hard. I wanted you to get sober for me.”

He meets her eyes then, their pretty grey glimmers in what’s left of the sunlight through the sheen of her tears. In them he finds no pity, only benevolence. Everything she has said, he has heard her say before. He’s read it before. But this is why it isn’t a complete déjà vu, it’s different. It’s different because they are different. They have grown and she confirms it with her next statement.

“It was selfish. I wanted you to get sober, but you needed to do it for yourself.”

He reaches up to grasp her wrist, lightly squeezing in lieu of all the words he wants to say.

She lets the corners of her mouth turn upwards ever so slightly.

“And you did. You succeeded. I don’t know what you’ve been through these last few years, and maybe I’ll never know, but what I do know is that you came home. You did what you had to and came back to me, and I am prouder of you than you can ever imagine.”

She presses her lips to his forehead and gathers him in her arms. He allows himself to take comfort in her embrace because comfort is not happiness and is not so easily taken away.

He goes back to her apartment with her that night. Their apartment. It looks the same as the day he left. He is simultaneously comforted and haunted by the familiarity. This place that they made home together. Where they laughed and fought. Where he wasted his nights and she cared for him. This is where he had joy and lost it. This is where he left her.

She putters around the kitchen, putting the kettle on for tea. As she pulls two mugs from the cabinet, he realizes that they’re the matching set they painted for each other on a date some lifetime ago. She sees the recognition in his stare and begins to speak.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed I kept everything the same.” She smiles timidly and her eyes are filled with earnest, “Everyone thought it was unhealthy, but it kept me sane. They tried to convince me to move out of here, and I was adamant that I wouldn’t – couldn’t. Because if you came home and found I wasn’t here, I wouldn’t have forgiven myself.”

She busies herself again, pulling out a tin of teabags and a sleeve of arrowroot cookies.

“And then as time went on and I started fearing the worst, I needed to hang onto my memories of you, of us. So, everything stayed the same. Even though I was moving forward with school and … eventually, Akitoki,” She glances downward, sheepish. “Home was my constant. It was me. It was you. It was us. It is us.”

He steps toward her. He has so many questions and a spark of hope is igniting in his veins.

“Why?”

The word hangs between them and he tries in vain to push that hope down, down, down. It is such a simple word, and yet holds so much impact.

She lifts her eyes to meet his, grey colliding with amber, understanding pouring through.

“We met when I started my residency. He was a third-year. At first, I didn’t pay him any mind, but he kept persisting. Eventually I figured meeting for coffee wouldn’t hurt.” She pauses, reaching for his hand. “You have to understand that you’d been gone for almost two years. I was lonely. And … and he was safe.”

She scoffs, grips his hand tighter, and leans fully on the counter.

“He was a proper gentleman. Waited a month before he kissed me the first time, even asked permission before he did. It was another month after that before we officially became boyfriend and girlfriend. It was a bit of a surprise when he proposed on our anniversary. Obviously, I said yes – you saw the ring. Except, it felt wrong. It was all wrong. We hadn’t even talked about the future or even moving in together, hadn’t done more than kiss. But I guess that’s part of propriety. And yet, I said yes because it was safe, that stupid word.”

His mind is racing. Safe is not a word he has ever been associated with. What does it even mean? He searches her face for a clue, and anxiously waits for her to continue. This is a conversation they have not deigned to have yet in the three months since they’ve been friends again. The kettle is boiling rapidly now, but he knows that it’ll automatically shut off.

“Then five months later, you called me and this feeling I hadn’t felt in so long came rushing back. You were alive. It was like the clouds were finally parting after a heavy rain. I didn’t know what to expect when I came to pick you up, and this tiny part of me told me not to go, but it was right. I felt right again, but I was scared. So I stayed away. Then I heard from Sango and Miroku that you were working and doing well and I was missing out on that. I broke off the engagement. As much as he was sweet and safe … he wasn’t you.”

Tears are welling in her eyes and he feels his are getting misty as well. He steps and pulls all in one motion, wrapping his arms around her tightly. His heart is pounding out of his chest and that spark of hope is now a flame.

She draws in a haggard breath and mumbles against his chest.

He tilts his head down to look at her, silently pleading for her to repeat what she’s just said. His ears picked up her message, but he needs to know for sure.

She tips her chin upwards and shyly brushes her lips against his and repeats herself a little more loudly, “I love you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Her eyes darken and she presses a kiss to his jaw.

“Because you’re you. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been away.”

He whimpers, “Kagome,”

She kisses him fully then, grasping his face to ensure he can’t pull away, not that he wants to. His heart is exploding. She has always been able to read him, know what he’s thinking. And she has always known what he needs most. This kiss is full of promises, assurances. This is real.

“You are important. You are loved. You are worthy of it all.”

She guides him to her bedroom. Their bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed in disbelief that he is back in this room. He can hardly believe that this woman is standing before him with love in her eyes. This amazing, beautiful, strong, resilient woman who is holding the door to happiness wide open. He only has to cross the threshold. He falters. Happiness is dangerous. Happiness is temporary. But she is here and he trusts her implicitly. With her, happiness is feasible.

With one look into her deep stormy eyes, he makes a choice.

“Kagome.”

Her name. The only word he seems capable of uttering. In her name he promises to try. Promises to treat her well, make up for the pain he has caused her. Promises to try and see himself through her eyes. Promises to be kinder to himself. Promises to help build their life together back up. He knows with her, they will succeed.

She caresses his face and drops her lips to meet his once again, resting her knees on either side of him. He clutches her waist and revels in the familiarity of her body pressed against his. Their motions are slow, meticulous, not dictated by hormones and lust. And they fall into a routine, a dance that hasn’t been done in years and yet they fall back into with practiced ease.

With every kiss she presses hotly into his skin, she whispers continuous affirmation.

You are enough.

You are worthy.

You are mine.

I love you.

He finds words still impossible to formulate and voice, so he allows his actions to speak for him. Each caress, each kiss, each touch is full of reverence and adoration. When he finally sinks into her and they become one, he truly feels like he is home. And all of his feelings of unworthiness and self-loathing begin to ebb, for it is the love of this woman and her unwavering belief in him that he can begin to heal.

As they settle into each other, heavy with the lure of sleep, he whispers in her ear, “I love you.”

She nestles into him closer and kisses his wrist.

For the first time, in a very long time, he feels worthy.

FINAL NOTES:

I wanted to mention some things as a bit of a debrief to this story, if you will. This is a story that is very personal for me and is quite heavy. Hopefully the ending was enough of a pleasant one to offset the weight a bit.

The way I designed this story, Inuyasha and Kagome are separated during the toughest part of his recovery. The decision to stay with or leave a partner with addiction is a difficult one and can be different for everyone, especially because addiction is so highly stigmatized. A lot of the time the person struggling already carries guilt. Addiction so very often stems from trauma, depression, and/or other forms of mental illness and these need to be addressed first.

Regardless of whether you stay or go, it is important to set boundaries for yourself. Addiction is often labeled as a third-party to relationships because it attempts to wear down the people involved and whittle them down to their weakest and worst. If you are supporting someone through addiction and an active part of their recovery, it is vital to remember self-care and recognize when you need to say no and that it is okay to do so. It is NOT your responsibility to "cure" them.

If you are somebody who cares for someone struggling with addiction, I am happy to share resources that I have found helpful if you would like to reach out.

On another note, I do have ideas about where and what Inuyasha was up to during his three-year absence. It would probably contain heavier content than this piece, but also be a bit more fantastical. If the inspiration hits or if there’s interest, I’ll probably try and write it. Anyway, comments and likes are love. Thank you so much for reading my return to fan fiction!

#inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fic #omg i'm writing again #inukag #tw: drugs #tw: addiction #angst #angst with a happy ending #angst with a hopeful ending #tw: low self esteem #tw: depressive thoughts #rated m

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mirrerover · 3 years

Text

Big Plans

“You know shit’s never gonna fucking change, right?” Jason makes to grab for his Zippo. Remembering Dick will happily remove his nuts from his waxed sack for even contemplating smoking inside Dick’s apartment, he stops. His fingers twitch with irritation, nothing like a little nicotine deprivation to start the day. “Gotham’s a gothic nightmare where corruption runs thicker than blood and Blüdhaven’s worse, somehow. Like looking in a funhouse mirror. Uglier. More warped.”

“I really do enjoy our little morning pep talks,” Dick replies, closing the last two buttons on his dress shirt before tucking the fabric into the waistline of his pants. In general, Jason would say he prefers the Kevlar-enhanced, ass-hugging suit Dick prowls the night in—but there’s something to be said for a crisp, white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, forearm veins on display. He doesn’t know how the Blüdhaven criminals are faring but, personally, he wouldn’t mind letting Detective Richard Grayson slap some cuffs on him. Let Dick work him over hard in a surveilled box until Jason cracks, raw and bloody under the harsh fluorescent lights.

“These fucking places,” Jason grumbles, tired and cranky from watching Dick getting ready to leave, all that warm, gold skin about to slip right out the door. “It’s not something anyone can fix. Nothing short of dropping a bomb on the damn place and razing it to the ground.”

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. It’s getting longer, strands brushing the bone of his jaw. He’s no stranger to this; Jason and the trash he talks. Words pouring out of him sharp as knives, the blades full of blood. Just endlessly spewing shit.

“No point to it all, huh?” Dick leans a hip against the dresser, arms folded, eyebrow raised. There’s an ease to him that’s inherent; the way he owns his body, his space, every room he’s in. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to lure me back to bed.”

Jason thinks it over. Admits, “not originally,” and lets his legs fall apart slowly. Nude body lounging against cheap, synthetic pillows, he’s got Dick’s low-rent sheets strategically draped across his crotch, all tasteful and shit. Just like the Renaissance paintings cluttering the hallways of the Wayne Manor. None of the shameless, naked peacocking Dick gets up to after sex. No, Jason’s classy. Artful. The signature Jason Todd brand. “But are you feelin’ down to fuck?” he asks.

Dick throws his head back and laughs. Really fucking laughs. Eyes scrunched up and shoulders shaking, all charisma and beauty and warmth. Laughing like that, it’s suddenly easy to see how a group of metahumans chose Dick as their leader despite his lack of superpowers or how the Blüdhaven Police Corps would accept him as their own despite him being the ward of Gotham’s favourite billionaire asshole. There’s something about Dick like there’s something about Bruce. Something captivating and inescapable that would make you launch a thousand ships for them. Burn down entire worlds for them. Jason’s not sure Dick’s aware of that. And in a way, Jason thinks he understands the Joker better than Bruce ever could.

Dick’s laughter fades too slowly, and Jason would be annoyed but there’s a tightness to Dick’s pants that wasn’t there two minutes ago, and Dick’s always laughing. Joyful and happy. Like those are easy feelings to conjure and easy feelings to have. As if getting out of bed isn’t like crawling out of a dark pit every morning and as if life isn't like taking a suckerpunch to the gut, over and over.

“Wish I could,” Dicks says, and Jason swears he sounds like he means it. “But I got big plans today. Gotta save a city.”

“‘Save a city.’ Jesus Christ. More like go get shanked in the gut.”

Dick shrugs and slips on a watch. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

The other bats all have their day jobs. The Police Detective, the Socialite, the rising Tech Wunderkind, and Jason’s personal favourite: the Student. Jason derives no small amount of pleasure from knowing that Bruce and the Demon Spawn get to suffer through the worst of it. Like an ill-fitted suit, Jason hopes it pulls and itches every time they’ve got to slip their disguises on. It shows how removed they are from the rot and the grit and the filth of what is Gotham. The gore at the core of it all.

That’s where Jason lives, at its epicentre.

He’d fallen into it naturally, being a crime lord. It had been a logical first step when he’d come home, head full of green fumes and rage. He’s proud to say, he puts the organized in organized crime. Outshines even the worst of them in calculated vicious violence. The crime part of the job, Jason can admit he’s gotten more discerning about. There’s no peddling drugs to kids or bleeding junkies dry, no people traded like cattle, and he doesn’t like selling guns to the lowlifes clogging Gotham’s streets. So, he’s become a parasite instead. Infiltrates a crime organisation and eats it from the inside out till it finally collapses. Scraps the dead beast for parts and money.

It’s not something Jason talks about with this version of Dick. His shady deals, his underground moonlighting. Never with a cop like the one making his way to the bed right now, uniform tight over thick thighs and a sway in his hips that’s nothing less than sexual warfare.

“Try smoking in my bed again, Todd,” Dick warns, looming over him. He stops whatever threat he was going to utter, disrupted by Jason grousing at him to fucking let that go already. Perfectly pleasant, Dick does exactly that. Just stares at Jason with a face far too naked and utterly too fond. Something’s creeping under Jason’s skin at the sight of it—an itch he doesn’t know how to scratch, unable to decide whether he wants to kiss the prick or break his perfect face instead.

A little lower, there’s a bruise peeking out of Dick’s collar that looks like a handprint. Jason had put that there last night. Violently. Not even the fun kind of violent but the messy kind. The kind where something hunts Jason through nightmares and his body acts before his sleeping brain has had the chance to catch up—that kind of violence. Maybe a better person would wallow in the guilt and remove themselves from the situation. Not Dick and Jason. They just get better at hiding the batarangs and guns. The 200 pounds of well-trained muscle and murderous reflexes are a little harder to counteract but Dick’s no babe in the woods. Besides, Jason’s not exactly the first lethal bitch between Dick’s bedsheets.

Dick smiles. A teasing thing full of soft edges. “Mornings are hard. Aren’t they, Sugarplum?”

“Fuck you to hell.” Jason groans with feeling, hating the hard lumps of Dick’s mattress when he sinks back into them. “Just get lost already, Birdbrain. There’s no fucking point to you with your clothes on.”

“Nice to know I’m not completely useless.”

Jason wants to fight that far too favourable self-assessment. Would fight it, were he not half a pack of Lucky Strikes and three cups of coffee short of mustering the energy. Which is also the only reason he’s letting Dick press an off-centre kiss to his forehead. A shitty place for a shitty kiss from a shitty person, if you ask Jason. Very much Dick Grayson’s style.

“Try and behave, Little Wing.” Dick’s already moving away from the bed and shrugging on a jacket. “I really like this place. Got three South facing windows and none of the neighbours run a meth lab.”

“Prime Blüdhaven real estate,” Jason mutters darkly.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Dick takes one last look at himself at the mirror, shoots Jason a tacky wink because his existence is a curse, and promises under his breath something that sounds suspiciously like I’ll be back or I’ll miss you. Another twenty seconds later and Jason hears the front door lock click back into place.

His day is wide open now.

There are things to do but there are always things to do. At any time, Jason’s got about forty things in various stages of motion. Always working on something. Someone. Bigger games than the one he’s running on Dick right now, lighting one up in his bed.

Blowing smoke up into the air, Jason decides that today he’s going to crack the safe Dick keeps behind the panel in his closet. Perfectly harmless, really. Just him fishing through some of Dick’s case files—maybe even solving a few, if he’s feeling charitable. And for tonight, there’s that Malaysian place three blocks over that does a better Rendang than anything he’s found in Gotham. Dick never shuts up about it. Like he’s never going to shut up about the cigarette smell seeping into the wallpaper.

Jason smirks. Solid options. He still has last night’s terrors painted on the back of his eyelids and the feeling of Dick’s neck under his hand but they’re slowly fading. And Dick’s got him covered, said he’d take care of the big plans, so Jason doesn’t have to. And next time, when Jason’s Dick and Dick’s Jason, he’ll have Dick covered too. Jason will tackle the big plans while Dick raids Jason’s fridge and leaves wet towels all over his apartment. Jason knows it’ll happen. It has happened. Just not today.

Maybe tomorrow.

----------------------

@wethatake thanks for being the beta and basically a co-writer. You suck but I love you. <3 Here’s to hoping that your sad little sack of a co-worker doesn’t kill you. XD

#jaydick #jaydick-flashfic #jaydick-flashfic: big plans #jason todd #dick grayson #mirre writes

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ahs-honey · 5 years

Text

Living Hell. (Sally McKenna x Reader) One Shot.

Warning: nsfw !! (mention of death, mention of drugs, slight (?) bondage, fingering, etc) pls enjoy <3

You would've never guessed that the afterlife could be so fun. If you had known that dying in the Hotel Cortez would expose you to a realm filled with rapture and amusement, you would've ended your uneventful life much, much sooner. Though you could say the same thing about almost anything right now. Especially about your dealer — Sally Mckenna. Because if you had known how skilled the junkie was with her tongue, you'd have let her bury it deep inside of you a long time ago.

Granted, she had only allowed herself a singular second to taste you before her tongue left your needy hole again, but it was still enough to make you reassess all of the times you had denied her invitations to fuck, claiming you weren't interested when Sally knew that was anything but the truth. And now, the frizzy-haired ghost planned to make you suffer for it.

With your hands bound to the bedframe by a pair of handcuffs and Sally comfortably settled between your widely-parted thighs, you were forced to put in work yourself, bucking your hips up to meet her mouth as she chuckled at your desperate efforts to gain some relief. She teasingly stuck her warm tongue out, flicking it in the air — inches away from your dripping centre as if to taunt you — and you whined at the sight, only receiving momentary pleasure as your wet, sensitive nub came into contact with her sloppy tongue for just a second.

"Sally," the name expelled from your chest in a pant. "What are you doing?" Though it was just a question, it was oozing with need and desire but Sally knew better than to entertain your silly attempts to quiz her — especially when it was oh, so clear that she was messing with you for her own satisfaction and entertainment.

"Who do you belong to, (y/n)?" The junkie asked in a serious tone before poking her tongue out once again, smirking lopsidedly when she noticed you breathe out a pained huff as you caught sight of the wiggling, teasing dance the muscle was performing.

You squeezed your eyes shut, groaning in the realision that you weren't going to get any true relief until Sally had you wrapped around her little finger, though you were not one to go down without a fight.

The unannounced sensation of the junkie's hot, wet tongue on your clit ripped a gasp from your swollen lips as your eyes shot open and your back arched into her touch, pulling yet another chuckle from the amused woman. Pleasure flooded your system as an intoxicating buzz took over your soul. You weren't sure whether it was due to the high of the drugs you and Sally had taken, or whether it was from the high of your building orgasm, and honestly, you didn't care. All you could focus on were the lengthy, steady flicks of Sally's expert tongue as she generously let it slip across all of your sensitive spots.

A pleased giggle fell into the chilly atmosphere of the room as Sally lifted her dizzy head from your heat, dragging a whine through your frustrated frame along with her. "Who owns you, doll?" She asked again. This time though, as the woman watched you writhe in dissatisfaction, tugging on the handcuffs as muffled groans occasionally slipped from the barrier of your stubbornly-sealed lips, Sally felt herself growing impatient.

A frown blew over the junkie's features as she perched up onto her elbows before clutching your right leg and raising it into the air with one hand. As her other hand brutally flew down onto the back of your right upper thigh, pressing a searing kiss to the sensitive skin there, a surprised gasp tore from your throat — the sting from the unforgiving impact rippling through your skin, flushing yet another wave of arousal out of you along with it.

"I asked you a question, (y/n)," Sally seethed, typical tears welling in her eyes as she gazed at you almost pitifully. "Come on, kitten, tell me who owns you. Say it and I’ll make this whole thing-"

"Y-You." It was barely-audible, the way you breathed the word out. You knew Sally wasn't willingly going to give you what you wanted with such little effort on your part. You knew that before her palm, once again, came into contact with your already-flaming skin, and you knew it after, too.

"Say it again."

Sally was nearly enough begging you, yet she exuded nothing short of dominance, studying you in an animalistic way — moving in an animalistic way as she crawled till she was towering over your squirming body. Her makeup was smearing, washing away with every emotionless tear that slipped down her cold skin, yet Sally was far from miserable. In fact, the blonde-haired ghost didn't even remember the last time she had felt so content.

Your faces were inches apart by the time her request registered in your dazed mind. You would've thought that your lack of instant reply would send Sally barking with agitation, yet as your foggy eyes scanned the junkie's desire-filled expression, you realised that her tears were not ones formed from sadness but rather something close to gratification.

Sally only felt herself growing cockier with every second that passed. The delicious sight of your flushed cheeks and glistening skin was enough to make her want to ruin you, but when the ravenous melody of your jagged, uneven breaths made its way through her head, she couldn't help but dip down to nip at your earlobe before pressing rough, messy kisses along the length of your neck as two of her digits slid down to tease your soaking entrance.

"You, S-Sally," you repeated, voice shaky as you tried to swallow the eagerness that was fighting to punch its way out. You were convinced that the feeling of her skilled fingers leisurely gliding through your wetness was enough to distract you from the world ending. It was living hell. "You own me — all of me. Now, p-ple- oh, fuck."

The way her slim digits gradually filled your hungry cunt was enough to make you choke on your words. You could barely control the volume of your own moans as both, your mind and your body, surrendered to Sally without so much as a second of thought.

"Good girl," Sally teasingly blew the praise into your ear, and you felt yourself already clenching around her fingers at the encouraging words. "You're such a good girl for Sally."

Groans, whimpers and moans mixed together and shamelessly flooded the room as you rode the junkie's fingers with enthusiasm and greed. Sally's hot mouth worshipped your body; creating a trail of harsh bites and scarlet marks which started at your neck and stopped right under your navel. You could barely keep your eyes open long enough to register anything other than the blurry surroundings, yet you didn't miss the lustful, tantalizing way in which Sally glimpsed at you before your bleary eyes, once again, fell shut as her plump lips sealed around your throbbing clit, and you suddenly felt yourself being swallowed by an euphoria which not even drugs were able to provide you with.

Sally's torturously pleasurable touches had your body trembling and quivering in barely any time. The frizzy-haired ghost sensed your orgasm nearing and her mouth drew away from your swollen nub, rapidly being replaced by her hard-working thumb. Amused chuckles blended in with your heavenly sweet cries and the filthy sounds of Sally's fingers hurrying your high along, as the dark-eyed ghost drunkenly observed you.

"Tell me, kitten, has anyone ever made you feel this good before?" The junkie curiously asked, smirking when she felt your cunt squeeze her digits.

"N-No, only y-you!"

"That's right, doll face, only me," Sally agreed, her voice sweet as a satisfied smile brushed over her lips. "Do you wanna cum for me, my good girl?" She asked, fingers pounding into you at an increasing pace.

"Y-Yes, god, please," you begged, twitching as you felt your orgasm approaching, her words only pushing you closer towards the edge.

"Then scream for me, baby. Cum for your Sally and make sure every single soul in this damned Hotel hears my fucking name."

That was all the encouragement you needed before your body convulsed in pleasure and Sally's name echoed through every dark hall and haunted room in the building.

#sally mckenna x reader #sarah paulson x reader #ahs fic #sally mckenna imagine #sally mckenna one shot #sally mckenna fic #ahs imagine #ahs one shot #sally mckenna smut #idk what this is tbh jgfdkjks #tori writes #ahs-honey

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atombombbagel · 5 years

Note

romanced companions and sole have a massive fight and break up: how companions deal w it and how they react whenever they see sole afterwards??? (extra angsty w danse & mac pls i love them)

I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to all of these reactions, I feel extremely bad about it :(

ANGST AHEAD, this is very very over exaggerated…

Also, I know in the ask it says ‘how do companions deal with it and how do they reactafter they see Sole afterwards’ but I’m leaving that to part two (because Ihave another request to tie in, hope that’s okay)

Trigger warning; mentions of drug use.

In gamespoilers, just in case you haven’t finished the game or what not - (Blind Betrayal, The Nuclear Option, Far Harbour DLC)

Hope you enjoy!

Cait:Another one. Cait slammed the mirrored cupboard door closed, nearly shatteringthe glass. This was the last straw; her blood was boiling, and she hadn’t seenmuch action in weeks. She could barely control her rage. She stormed from thebathroom and into the bedroom where Sole was getting dressed.

“D’ya have te keep thisjunk lyin’ around the house?” Cait asked angrily. Throwing a psycho needle ontothe bed. “That’s not the only thing in the cupboard Sole. Why would ye keep theseinside the house when ye know my past.” She was visibly angry at this point.Sole turned around and looked down at the bed.

“I’m going to get rid ofthem, we pick so much junk up I forget to sell-”

“SELL THEM!?” Cait boomed,her Irish accent getting thicker. “Why would ye sell them knowing what they do.Get rid of them!” She put her hands on her hips, shaking her head.

“I think you’re beingunreasonable, imagine the money we could make-”

“Are ye thick Sole?” Caitfurrowed her eyebrows, cutting Sole off again.

“What are you so worried yourold junkie ways will return. Relax.” Sole snapped.

“FUCK YOU.” Cait Shouted beforehuffing. “D’ya know what I can’t do this. I’m out. You’re a fuckin’ asshole.” Cait threw herhands up before spinning around on her heel and walking hot feet out the door.

She does her best to avoidSole after she left them, because she knows full well if she saw them, she’d eitherjump their bones or punch them in the face. She wants to do neither.

Curie:“Oh no!” Curie whisper-yelled as she watched the poor settler getting mutilatedby ruthless raider. “We have to help them!” she turned to Sole who was alsowatching the horrible sight in front of them.

“We can’t, we’ll giveaway out position.” Sole hated that they couldn’t help. “There are too many ofthem, if we go in guns blazing, we’ll end up like that poor soul.” Curie knewthat there wasn’t much they could do, but it was in her nature to be caring.She had to do something. She got up attempting to go in there but Sole grabbedher and carried her away. “What are you doing?!” Sole snapped at Curie.

“Why did you stop me!They need me!”

“That was a suicide mission!I’m sorry but he was as good as dead.” Sole didn’t mean to sound so harsh, butthey couldn’t take back the words now.

“What happened to theminutemen being of the people, for the people?!”Curie questioned. Sole was taken aback by Curie’s tone of voice.

“There wouldn’t be anyminutemen if we all went on missions like that. We must pick out fights!” Soleshook their head. “I can’t lose you.”

“You may not have lost mein death, but you’ve lost me as a partner.”

“What do you mean?” Soleasked, their forehead creasing.

“You’ve changed. Those poorpeople. You would’ve helped them but now I’m not so sure.” Curie sighed. “Ihave to go.”

Danse:The loud explosion reverberated through the sky, it would have alerted anyonefor miles and miles. So, when Danse heard the commotion he rushed outside, hiseyes scanning the mess in disbelief. It was gone. Metal and fiery rain. Whocould do this?

Danse lifted his head ashe heard the ding of the elevator, alight smile appearing on his lips as he saw Sole appear from the doors. Sole didn’tshare the same expression. He furrowed his brows.

“Sole? Are you alright?” Heasked, now filled with worry. Sole just looked at him for a moment, trying tobuild up the courage to tell him. They knew this was going to be bad.

“I had to do it. I didn’thave a choice. I’m sorry,” Sole said quietly, unable to look the taller man in theeye.

“What did you do?” Danse’sworry was exacerbated by Sole’s cryptic words.

“The Prydwen. The Elder,he didn’t give me a choice.” Sole swallowed the lump in their throat. They lookedup at Danse for a split second, his face etched with disgust.

“That was you.” His toneof voice was cold and its scared Sole. “There were children up there.”

“You think I don’t knowthat?” Sole shot back quickly. “There are children in the institute too.” Dansecouldn’t even look at Sole. What Sole had done was repulsive. “This wasn’t an easydecision for me.”

“You murdered so manyinnocent-”

“Innocent?” Sole snapped.“The Brotherhood are hardly innocent! Look at what they did to you!”

“Oh, and the instituteare much better!” Danse fired back. He turned away and looked down. What Solehad done had made him sad at heart, but all he could feel was this bubblingrage in his veins. “Get out.” He ordered, turning back to face them.

“Danse, lets talk aboutthis.”

“No! I don’t want to hearit. We’re over, I could never date someone so cruel and selfish.” He spat hiswords at Sole like a snake would spit its venom. Sole didn’t say another word,they just left, left Danse in his own misery.

Deacon:Deacon’s secret identity was all he had. It kept him safe, it kept him distant.That was until he met Sole. They saw straight through him and tore down thosewalls and identities he’d spent so long building. How could they do this to him?

“IT WAS YOU.” Sole hadnever heard Deacon shout so loud, in fact they’d never heard him yell at all.It was shocking to say the least.

“What are you talkingabout?” Sole asked, their voice a little shaky. Deacon scoffed as he looked directlyat Sole. He wasn’t one to be messed with when he was angry.

“Remember those guys wewere scouting? The ones who kidnap the synths and torture them?” He lowered hisvoice, but not by much. Sole nodded slowly.

“What about the-”

“Don’t bullshit me Sole,I know you told them of my identity. You. You are you the one who went to ‘speak’to them.” He took a step forward which made Sole take a step back. Sole wasstuttering.

“I didn’t, I swear.”

“You actually sold meout. I TRUSTED YOU,” Deacon boomed, and Sole swore his dominating voice shookthe room. “We’re fucking done.”

“Deeks, I wouldn’t. Don’tdo this. It wasn’t me. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Sole pleaded but the agent wasn’ttaking any of it.

“Stay away from me.”

Hancock:“You were flirting,” Sole snarled, shaking their head. All Sole wanted was tochill out in the bar with Hancock and what did he have to do, talk to thatpretty girl who was so enamoured with him. “Oh, Hancock you’re so brave!” Solemocked coldly. Sole’s blood was boiling, and Hancock’s wasn’t that far off.

“There is a differencebetween flirting and being nice Sole,” Hancock fired back. “You get jealous ofthe stupidest things. It’s hard to take you anywhere.”

“WHY ARE YOU WITH ME THEN!?”Sole raised their voice louder than usual, making Hancock take a step back.

“Sometimes I don’t evenknow!” He shrugged. “You’re over the top! And you’re blowing this way out ofproportion! She was being friendly.” He paused before adding, “You’re just jealousI get the attention and you don’t.”

“Fuck you Hancock,” Solehissed, “She was clearly trying to get you to fuck her so why don’t you go andshack up with her?!” Sole knew that they were pushing him, whether it be onpurpose or not.

“I’ve had enough of this.”Hancock pushed passed Sole, heading for the door.

“If you leave now, we’redone,” Sole snapped. The ultimatum didn’t seem to bother him, he was too angryto care at this point. He reached for the doorknob. “Wow. You love me my ass.”Hancock ignored Sole completely leaving through the door to cool off.

MacCready:“I don’t need your help!” MacCreadyaccidently snapped at Sole, and this wasn’t the first time he’d done it either.Sole being the sweetie they are was only trying to help Mac patch up a wound,only they had poured a little too much alcohol in the cut. MacCready cursed asthe cut oozed blood and alcohol, the wound stinging beyond relief.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Soleimmediately apologised to him, but it went straight over his head, the onlything on his mind was the pain emitting from his leg.

“Stop trying to be sohelpful all the time! I can do things myself you know!” MacCready’s shoutingfrightened Sole a little. They’d never been on the receiving end of MacCready’sfury. “Just, get away from me. I don’t need you here.”

“Well if you don’t wantme around,” Sole said sadly, taking a few steps back. MacCready just glared at them.“I’ll just go. I’m so sorry.”

“Good!” MacCready calledafter them as Sole left the room, heading back to their home. They never knewhe felt that way about them.

Nick:Acadia, Far Harbour, The children of Atom. Sole struggled to decide what thebest course of action was. Nick had tried to put his two cents in, but Sole wasn’texactly listening to reason, they couldn’t they were too confused by the wholesituation and Nick, well he was obviously going to side with DiMA. Why wouldn’the? They knew each other.

“You don’t have to dothis. DiMA didn’t mean any harm.” Nick tried to convince Sole not to tell the peoplewhat DiMA had done. All the lies he’d told to keep the peace. But what is peacewhen it has a deadly cost? Sole didn’t know.

“I can’t deal with all thesefactions against each other, all the time. If it isn’t the Brotherhood and thesynths, its this. I can’t let him get away with what he did. It WAS wrong,”Sole informed Nick, knowing full well they couldn’t change his mind on the subject.

“One mistake shouldn’tdefine a person, you of all people should know that.”

“Classy. Bring up my mistakesto justify someone else’s actions.” Sole turned away from the synth, pacingback and forth as they did so.

“I will not stand by andlet you do this.”

“You can’t stop me fromdoing what needs to be done Nick, I’ll do what is right no matter what.” Heknew by the look on Sole’s face he wouldn’t persuade Sole otherwise, theirfinal decision would be just that, final.

“Maybe not, but I can end this. I can end us,”Nick threatened but Sole just turned and glared at him. “I’m not sticking byyour side this time. We’re done here.” Nick wasn’t joking either, he had hismorals and so did Sole. Maybe they weren’t meant to be.

Piper:Piper was fuming. She had spent hours findingout all the necessary information she needed to write the biggest story of herbudding career. Just when she thought she had the perfect published masterpiece,she finds out that her source was a phoney. The greatest piece of writing she’dever put together was fake and if people found out, her reputation would onlyget worse.

“You gave me the dodgiestsource out there!” Piper boomed as Sole walked through the door to the Publick Occurrences.As soon as Piper’s loud voice shook the small building, Sole stumbled back, startled.

“What do you mean? Theman for your interview? He told me-”

“You did it on purpose!You knew this would be a fantastic story! But no. No one can be a hero and savethe day except good old Blue, straight out of the vault, sob story and all.”Piper’s rage only increased when Sole tried to explain themselves, but she didn’twant to hear it, she didn’t want any of Sole’s lame excuses.

“That isn’t true at all.I was by your side trying to HELP you, not sabotage you. Who told you I stabbedyou in the back?” Sole asked, trying to stay calm.

“It doesn’t matter who!All that matters is that you did it! You wanted to see me fail!” Piper snapped,this time crossing her arms. Sole had seen her get angry, they’d just neverseen her get this angry. “I thoughtyou loved me!”

“I do love you. You haveto believe me-” Sole pleaded.

“Get out!” Piper shoutedand Sole took a step back. “GET OUT AND DON’T COME BACK.

Preston:Preston stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Solehand over some Jet to Mama Murphy. He toldSole to stop feeding her addiction but instead of listening to him, theyused her sight for their own use, endangering the old woman further.

“Sole.” He grabbed theirattention with his thunderous voice. Sole could tell he was angry. They toldhim they would stop and here they were getting caught again. “A word.” Henodded his head towards the door. Sole gave a light smile to Mama Murphy beforefollowing Preston out the door.

“Before you say anything,I needed her help. I’m close to finding Shaun.” Sole tried to reason withPreston but at this point he didn’t want to hear Sole’s reasons.

“How many times have Isaid to stop giving her chems? They aren’t good for her. I know you want tofind your son, but this isn’t the way! You’re killing her! How could you be so self-centred?”Preston scolded.

“He is a child Preston! Ineed to find him!” Sole shot back, creasing their eyebrows as they looked athim.

“NO! Not like this!” Prestonshouted, moving closer to Sole’s face. He was visibly angry now, you could tellby the creased-up features on his face.

“You can’t tell me whatto do!”

“FINE! Then were done. Ican’t continue to support you if you’re going to force drugs into Mama Murphy.I can’t.” Sole’s expression immediately softened. Preston was breaking up with them.What.

“You’re not actuallygoing to break u-” Sole started but was cut off by Preston who was stillenraged.

“Yes I am. Don’t think I’mhelping you anymore. I’m completely done.” Preston didn’t even wait for Sole toreply before he backed away, leaving to them to their own devices.

X6-88:X6-88 tapped his transmitter in confusion, usually it worked fine, there havebeen a couple of instances where it had played up at sent him somewhere else insteadof the destination he wanted, but never had it just stopped working. It was annoying,he’d have to contact a member of the institute or find another courser to helphim fix it. And by fix it, he had to find a deceased courser… regardless, hewas trapped until Sole returned. Which they did shortly after it had broken.

“It is good to see you.”X6 said with a faint smile as Sole walked in their home. Sole smiled lightlyback at him, only X6 could tell something was up. “What is wrong?” He asked,sitting down on a chair next to his bottle of purified water.

“You’re not going to likethis, but please hear me out, okay?” Sole pleaded and X6 nodded. He was reasonablewhen it come to most things. “Shaun… Father, I do believe that deep down hethought he was doing what was right…” Sole took a long pause before musteringup the courage to continue. “But I couldn’t let him carry on with what he wasdoing, it isn’t right. I couldn’t let him replace people, destroy families. I’msorry.”

“I don’t understand.” X6said, confused.

“The institute. It’sgone.” There was a long moment of silence, X6 coming to terms with what Solewas saying. He stood up and removed his laser rifle from his belt, pointing it atSole.

“How could you?! How couldyou go against me like this?” The look on his face just read betrayal. Sole didn’tthink they’d ever see that look, mixed with a bit of sadness, on his face.

“I didn’t go against you.The institute and what they stand for, its wrong X6. But now, we can betogether away from all of this. We can start over and be happy.”

“I could NEVER be happywith you. You destroyed my home! You killed Father!” He stepped forwards, pointinghis gun at Sole’s head, ignoring the tears stinging their eyes.

“Put it down, NOW!” Sturges,who had heard the commotion, came in and held a short hunting rifle to thesynths head. “I think its time for you to leave.” He nodded his head towardsthe door as a demand. X6 lowered his gun and headed out the door, taking onelast look at Sole before leaving the settlement.

180 notes · View notes

stuffy-attic · 5 years

Text

F!Sole x Hancock [Hope Diamond/City]

Hancock had no damn clue why the hell they were stopping in a classroom of all places. Well to be fair he also had no idea why Sole had dragged him into Diamond City to start with. To be even more fair, Hancock was unsure of why he was dragged to most of the places that Sole picked.

Perhaps “dragged” was a bit strong. Hancock wasn’t in the habit of kidding himself after all; he’d follow Sole into a Deathclaw’s nest if that’s what she desired. He might question her sanity a bit but by hell he’d tag right along with a dopey smile on his face and a jet in hand.

What am I even thinking? Hancock wondered as he glanced at Sole watching the schoolroom children with a glowing smile. She could have whoever she wanted. There’s no way she’d be interested in me of all people.

“Oh!” Hancock jumped at Sole’s soft exclamation. “That robot is so lovely! I wonder if she remembers any prewar stuff. Whatd’ya think?” Before he could even form a response, Sole was already bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I’m gonna go ask.”

“Should we even be in here?” Hancock asked.

Sole’s face immediately fell and for a moment Hancock feared the worst: she finally realized the error of her ways in bringing him along. It would only make sense that his luck would finally be running out now.

“Hancock? Is it…” she glanced quickly at the ogling children as they whispered amongst themselves. Their words weren’t very quiet though; they mostly consisted of varying sentiments involving Hancock’s presence in both the city itself and the school. “I’m sorry. I’m sure this is making you too uncomfortable. We can leave-”

“No, no.” Hancock felt his eyes widen. So damn kind, this one. “I’ll be fine. I certainly know how to hold my own – I sure hope that you haven’t forgotten, doll.” He smiled when Sole did. “I just wanna make sure that you don’t end up in any sort of trouble for this.”

The snort that Sole let rip had Hancock chuckling. “As if they would even dare shake a stick at me,” she said. “I’ll be quick.” With that promise Sole turned quickly and scurried over to the robot who introduced herself as “Miss Edna”.

Hancock shifted nervously. A coup d’état he could handle. Attempted assassination, facing down bloody raiders, fighting a super mutant vis-à-vis – all things he could handle. All things he commonly did handle as most of these things he could knock off his to-do list on a typical Sunday morning in Goodneighbor. Staying cool under the probing eyes of children while standing in the middle of Diamond City?

Hancock’s turned towards the children at their desks. Immediately each of them became interested in the darling décor of the room as they turned to admire the stunning wood work of the splintering floor or the splash of color that was the teacher’s metal desk. He studied them for a minute before turning back to the comforting sight of Sole’s back (and backside).

The children broke into poorly suppressed tittering and anxious whispers.

The Diamond City security just down the stairs was starting to pace anxiously.

Ah fuck. Well I’ve trusted Sole to guide me so far, and she hasn’t faltered yet, Hancock acknowledged. Furthermore the junkie turned mayor-junkie had to admit that Sole had done more than just not faltered – she’d changed the way that he framed the world. Her kindness and drive to help people had Hancock tripping over his own feet only shortly after meeting her (well meeting her the second time around after the whole Bobbi-No-Nose business).

To say that Hancock was in deep, sappy, originally-only-read-about-in-books love with her would probably be getting the point across in a technical aspect, but it still lacked the depth and passion of his feelings for her.

But Hancock was Hancock and the things he’d done made him into something she didn’t deserve. He’d never regret those actions individually though, but he did regret the universe not giving him the chance to have met her earlier. Maybe before he got so cynical and bloody and ugly. But the wasteland was his home and his birthright and it molded him the same way it did with all its other inhabitants, it was Sole’s luck that she avoided having to grow up and marinate in something so foul as current “society” – and Hancock would never wish to take that away from her, not even in his fantasies of them being together.

Of course there was that small voice of his in the back of his head sometimes. She did flirt with you twice! Maybe even more. There’s something there. Speak of the devil and all that.

Hancock focused on the woman out of time once more. She had more scars than she started with, and her face was with some dings and bruises, and her hair had changed but… she still had that angel glow to her. As he watched her counting on her fingers (what was she doing?) Hancock felt his heart stutter a bit. Hi, my name is John Hancock and I can’t keep my fucking shit together. I enjoy finding new ways to fuck myself over. And you are?

“- I just… don’t get to talk to many adults.”

Immediately Hancock’s ears perked up and turned his focus back to Sole and her conversation with Miss Edna. What could that robot need an adult to talk to about? Could robots have sordid love affairs?

“This ‘love’ I hear about. Do you think you can have it for someone even if the two of you are very, very different?” asked Miss Edna.

To say that Hancock was invested in this conversation would be an abhorrent understatement. He watched as Sole tensed up and paused, his breathe baited.

Sole chuckled under her breathe before relaxing. “If you love someone, hold onto them. Don’t be afraid to tell them and remind them; the outside world is harsh and bleak and dangerous; tomorrow you might not have the chance. At the end of the day the differences between the two of you that might seem so big and scary, they’ll fade into nothing and you’ll regret the opportunities that you pass on more than the actions that you take…”

The floating robot bobbed anxiously. “Oh no, I’ve made you sad again!”

Sole shook her head. “No it’s fine. It’s not you. Just here I am giving advice that I’ve been to skittish to apply to my own life… I mean what I said though.”

“I… Thank you. You have helped me make up my mind about something.”

The two of them exchanged goodbyes but all Hancock could hear was rushing water in his ears. He couldn’t even acknowledge the fact that his theory on sordid robot love affairs might’ve been a guess in the right direction. He was much too distracted by Sole’s advice and the story that seemed to be hidden in her words. Is that what I need to do then? Hancock wanted nothing more than to take a hit of jet and maybe a handful of mentats to figure this out. It felt like her words were for me…

He hadn’t even noticed that he had robotically followed Sole out of the building until he bumped into her and pulled his spinning conscience back into his body. “Sorry…” he muttered.

Sole giggled for a moment before her face turned to concern. “Hancock… are you okay? I’m sorry! I took a bit longer than I thought and-”

Hancock shook his head. “Wasn’t that.”

“Then it was…?” Sole prompted.

“I…” Hancock fished for a way to run away from the conversation that seemed to be looming over their heads. But that’s what I’ve always been doing. This isn’t something I want to lose just because I’m as skittish as a brahmin. “Do we… do you got a sec? I need you to hear something.”

“Of course. I always have time for my favorite ghoul.”

Sole’s gentle smile had Hancock clenching his fists. Power through. Power through! Just fucking do it. Don’t fuck this up and chicken out like a shit, you stupid fuck.

“Is everything all right?”

Hancock nodded. “Yeah. Better than that even. This is just… tricky.” This was an entirely new area for Hancock and it wouldn’t be wrong to say that he felt like he was drowning a bit. But as Sole’s eyes board into his own, Hancock found himself feeling no reason to hide what was going on in his head anymore. “It’s just that being out here with you…” With one final breathe Hancock spilled his heart; he found that laying his feelings bare wasn’t as bad as he thought – at least not with Sole being the ever attentive listener. Sure it was stilted and painful for him for the first few moments but as he watched Sole’s face and noted the growing happiness that swelled behind her eyes as he waxed on about how traveling with her had made him so happy showed him so much. He had run so many times before but this time he didn’t want to and he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

“Maybe in the end,” Hancock concluded, “all my running wasn’t so bad after all. Not if it meant that I could end up with you.” He was so close. Just a couple more words and he could reveal the romantic feelings that he harbored for his companion, his vault dweller in blue that showed up and knocked his boots right off.

Sole interrupted Hancock’s internal turmoil. “You know they always say that your past is your past and as long as you’ve learned from it and leave it there then you can forge ahead. All that matters is what you do from here on out.”

Her eyes so sincere and kind, Hancock immediately felt skittish. It would only make sense that he do what he knew how to do best: dodge, deflect, and joke. “Heh. I know a lot of bookies that would disagree with you,” he smiled and whipped out the bravado “but I feel what you’re getting at… Throwing in with you has been the best decision I’ve ever made. It’s like I found a part of myself that I never realized was missing… which happens sometimes when you’re a ghoul.”

“Hancock?” He could only blink at Sole in confusion. “You’re doing that thing again – joking like that to deflect from your emotions,” she explained as she tilted her head. “What’s really going on in that head of yours?”

“It’s just… if I hadn’t taken up with you I’d probably be in a gutter somewhere, getting gnawed on by radroaches.”

“And now you’re dodging,” she muttered with a pout.

Hancock couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’ve been one hell of a friend.”

Sole bit her lip; Hancock was very interested in the way that her eyes darted around. “Just…” She had started to ask something, but it trailed off into a low mumble.

“Come again?”

“It’s – have you ever thought of us as being more than friends?”

“… come again?”

Sole’s worried face turned to a glaring one. “I know you heard me, Hancock. You don’t have to mock me.”

“I’m not!” Hancock assured with raised hands. “You just kind of… snuck up on me there.” They locked eyes and Hancock sighed. “Come on. You don’t wanna have to wake up to this mug every morning. Never wish that on anyone I cared for…”

“That’s such fucking bullshit to say, John.” Hancock jumped at the use of his first name and the fire in Sole’s voice. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve been traveling together for a long time now and I’ve found waking up to that mug every morning to be extremely pleasant, I’ll have you know. I like you as you are right now; inside and out, I wish you could see yourself from my point of view,” Sole admitted. “And… as long as you don’t run out on me-”

“You just keep being you and that’ll never happen,” Hancock interrupted. His nerves were fraying and his pulse was in his mouth (he’d kill for a hit of jet at this moment but he didn’t dare), and he couldn’t stand to let her worry about something like that for a moment.

Sole sighed. “It’s just that I’ve been so invested in relationships where people have checked out and abandoned me and it wasn’t… fun. But if that’s a promise from John Hancock himself then I suppose I’ll just have to hold it to him.”

Hancock couldn’t fend off the smile. “Moments like this, I know all that karma stuff is bull because no one like me should be this lucky.”

With a giggle, Sole jumped forward to grab his hand. “Funny that you’ve echoed my sentiments exactly. But tell me, John, why bring this up now?”

“Well,” Hancock pulled Sole closer, “I overheard your conversation with that ‘bot-”

“Miss Edna,” Sole admonished.

“-Miss Edna, and your speech about loving someone and the differences between you and your love actually being smaller than what they seem – it gave me hope. Or inspired enough romantic stupidity. Something along those lines,” Hancock joked.

“Semantics.” Sole rolled her eyes.

With a chuckle, Hancock kissed Sole’s hand. “Come on, love. Let’s get this freakshow on the road.”

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 hancock #fallout 4 companions #fallout ghoul #Hancock is the best boi #fallout john hancock

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nohappenstance · 5 years

Text

Hetaera - Unsteady (Prologue)

Hetaera - “a courtesan or mistress, especially one in ancient Greece akin to the modern geisha.”

Pairing: Liam x MC (Riley) x “The Gang”

Book: The Royal Romance

Word Count: ~2,000

Warning: Major(?) character death

Rating: PG-13

Song: https://youtu.be/pFjryf8zH_M

Author’s Note: This is my first fic and I’m uber nervous to post. My MC is named Riley Brooks because I’m pretty lazy. This is mostly canon but I wanted to explore the idea of Riley deciding to stay with Liam at all costs - including becoming his mistress, hence the title of this series. The series will contain some fluff, some NSFW and quite a bit of angst, because, mistress. The prologue describes the events that eventually lead Riley to make her decision.

All characters but Zady belong to Pixelberry.

The gang made their way through the hallway of the posh apartment building. Upon reaching the correct door number listed, Maxwell leaned against the wall and rubbed his forehead wearily. Searching for Tariq in the hot L.A. sun and brutal traffic had taken its toll on all of them. In had been a long morning, and they had one more address left on their list. Even with narrowing their search to only those customers who purchased Sartorini shoes exclusively, the search was tedious and until now, fruitless. Riley took a deep breath before knocking determinedly on the door.

“Here goes nothing, guys,” she said.

Drake sighed tiredly while Hana gave Riley an encouraging smile. There was no answer at the door so Riley knocked again, somewhat louder this time. They heard feet shuffling and the door opened just a crack. A petite woman with delicate features blinked out at them. They had obviously woken her.

“H-hi, is Tariq home?” Riley asked.

At the mention of Tariq’s name, the woman opened her eyes wide, then they began to fill with tears. “I was wondering when someone would show up.” She said, “you might as well come in.” She stepped aside and opened the door wider.

As they stepped into the apartment, they were met with a mountain of designer coats piled on the couch. On the corner was another pile of Sartorini shoes. The apartment was sparsely decorated and otherwise empty. This was definitely Tariq’s place.

“I’m Riley, and this is Hana, Drake, and Maxwell.” Each one gave a slight wave as they were introduced. “I’m Zady”, the woman replied. “are you all friends of Tahir?”

“Tahir?” Maxwell questioned, his face puzzled.

“Tariq. I meant Tariq. Are you all his friends?”

Everyone looked at each other. “Friends is a strong word,” Drake stated, “think of us more as… acquaintances.”

At Drake’s response, the woman’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re not friends, what the hell do you want?” Zady spat out in a harsh voice.

“We are hoping he could help us resolve a problem. Please, it’s a matter of great urgency to me and to…” Riley’s voice trailed off when she saw a shadow pass over Zady’s face.

“I strongly doubt he can help you,” Zady said sadly “in fact, he can’t help anyone anymore. Tariq is dead.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

This is the absolute gloomiest flight I’ve ever been on Riley thought to herself as she sniffed and wiped her eyes. She was having a hard time keeping it together. She’d already broken out in loud sobs twice on the plane and the rest of her friends were not faring any better. Drake was staring intently at his third glass of whiskey as if drawing the strength he needed by simply looking at the glass. Maxwell kept swallowing repeatedly and occasionally dabbing at his eyes with a tissue. He read the card that Zady had given him, “Detective Dave Reyes,” Maxwell murmured. Hana was openly weeping, but since she was Hana, still managed to look beautiful, even the motion of the tears that fell from her eyes was elegant and fluid. In comparison, Riley could feel that her eyes were red and puffy and she was a mess of tears and snot.

Riley laughed bitterly. “I’m sure going to be a sight at the wedding shower tonight,” she croaked, breaking the silence that hung like a heavy blanket across the cabin of the plane. “Puffy eyes and a broken heart have never been a good look on anyone.”

“You are always beautiful, Little Blossom.” Maxwell gave Riley a slight smile, trying to be supportive. Hana chimed in, “I’m sure that with a splash of water and fresh makeup you will look as gorgeous as always, Riley.” she encouraged.

Drake said nothing as he continued to nurse his whiskey. He sighed. “What the hell, I’ll say it,” he declared “Tariq was a pompous and shallow ass but he sure as hell didn’t deserve his fate.” Although everyone was in agreement, no one answered Drake. All their minds went back to the events that although happened just a couple hours ago, seemed like another lifetime.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At Zady’s announcement, they had looked at each other with shocked expressions on their face, everyone speechless. “What do you mean he’s dead? Explain yourself!” Drake almost shouted at Zady in his bewilderment.

Zady was taken aback at Drake’s combative manner, but she held her ground and lifted her chin. “You haven’t explained who you are, and what exactly you were wanting from Tahir. I don’t think I owe you any information!”

Riley felt the room spin and a sick sensation in her stomach. She swayed unsteadily and grabbed Drake’s arm for support.

“Whoa, Brooks!” Drake exclaimed. “You ok, there?” Upon seeing the green tone of her skin, Drake lifted her in his arms and carried her to the couch that was not covered in coats.

“I just need to lie down and clear my head,” Riley responded. Her eyes sought Zady’s. “Please.” She asked simply.

Zady at first looked annoyed, but then her face softened when she saw that Riley was truly upset. “That’s fine,” she stated, waving her hand while walking to the kitchen. “It appears that we all got off on the wrong foot. Let’s all sit down and clear the air.” Zady walked to the kitchen and filled a glass with water from the refrigerator. She handed the water to Riley.

Riley took the glass and downed the water appreciatively. “Zady, we are so sorry. We intrude upon your home and ask for answers with no explanation. Drake can be…intense at times, but he means well.”

“Intense is one way to put it,” Zady said as she eyed Drake appreciatively.

Drake blushed under Zady’s gaze. “Yeah, I-I’m sorry.” Drake lamely apologized as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Maxwell graciously stepped in. “Zady?” he asked, “perhaps it’s best if we start from the beginning…” Maxwell began to relay the whole story, beginning with Riley and Liam’s first meeting at the bar in New York, to Maxwell sponsoring Riley as a suitor for Liam during the social season. He explained how Liam and Riley were madly in love, how she had been set up by Liam’s own father at the coronation when Constantine was sure Liam was going to propose to Riley. Understanding that Zady and Tariq had some sort of relationship, Maxwell downplayed Tariq’s part in the scandal, and instead stated that they were looking for Tariq in order to clarify the misunderstanding and clear both Riley and Tariq’s names.

As Maxwell spoke, Zady’s eyes became wider and wider. They were as big as saucers when he finished. “Wow,” she repeated, “wow”. Zady then launched into her own tale. “Like many in this town, I came here looking for my big break.” she began, “I’ve been here almost a year, going to as many auditions as I can while working the midnight shift at the 24-hour diner as a waitress. I know, I know, I’m a walking cliché.” She shrugged her shoulders.

Maxwell opened his mouth to speak but then decided against it. Zady continued, “About a month ago, a good-looking stranger came in and sat at one of my tables. From the looks of him, I could tell he was money. Not “Hollywood money” either, but old money, real money. He introduced himself as Tahir and said that he was conducting “family business” here in L.A. Even though I could tell he was quite self-centered, something drew me to him. He looked so sad and out of place, kind of like he was searching for something that was impossible to find. You know, I’ve always had a thing for lost souls…” Zady’s voice trailed off but then she continued, “I shared with him how I was behind on my rent and would probably be living out of my car soon. He said that he was tired of being lonely and invited me to stay with him. On a whim, I said yes. He was good to me and we were fine for a couple of weeks until I came across his passport”

Zady took a deep breath before continuing, “the name on the passport said Tariq Alnobani and it was issued by a country I’d never heard before – Cordonia. When I asked Tahir why he was going by a different name, he appeared quite upset and said he had his reasons. He abruptly changed the subject. Now, that makes sense.” She finished.

Riley sat up. “Zady, we don’t want to upset you any further, but we need to know, how did Tariq die?”

Zady took a deep yet shaky breath before continuing. “He was murdered.” Hana gasped and Maxwell brought his hand to his forehead. Zady continued, “it was a mugging gone terribly wrong. Tahir, I mean, Tariq was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. According to the detective, Tariq was walking on Venice Beach after dark. A pair of junkies got too aggressive when they tried to rob him. They knocked him down and Tariq hit his head on an overhanging piece of concrete. He was found the next morning. Thankfully, the detective said he had gotten knocked out quickly and didn’t experience much pain.”

“When the responding officers noticed Tariq’s clothes, they realized they were dealing with a wealthy person. The department assigned a hotshot detective to the case. Detective Dave Reyes. He left me his card. Told me to call him if I learned anything else about Tariq’s identity. Apparently, they’re having quite a time locating next of kin since he’s from a foreign country. Maybe you all could give him a call. Here.” Zady took a business card from the side table and handed it to Riley.

Riley took the card from Zady. “When did all this happen?” she asked.

Zady once again began to cry. “Just three days ago,” she replied. “I found out through the detective, after coming home from my shift.” Zady laughed bitterly, “I was actually a suspect at first, or at least I was treated like one. While I can’t say I loved Tariq, he was good to me and we were happy the few weeks we were together. Now I have less than a week to find somewhere to live. I am booked for a dog food commercial later this week. We’ll see where that takes me…I’m so sorry about what Tariq’s death means for you, Riley.” Zady finished.

Riley was touched that Zady would think of her at a time like this, in the midst of her own pain. Nevertheless, in spite of her sadness, Riley still felt so much anger at Tariq. Now, she would never be able to clear her name. Liam would have to marry Madeline. She would lose the love of her life, the friendships she had formed, and her fairytale ending all because of the selfishness and short-sightedness of a dead man. It was back to New York for her. Her waitressing job and unfinished grad degree were calling her name. She stood up and handed the detective’s card to Maxwell.

Riley hugged Zady and took her hands in her own. “Zady, thank you so much for taking the time to answer our questions. Maxwell here will contact Tariq’s family in Cordonia and give them the detective’s information, won’t you Max?” Maxwell nodded furiously. “I – we,” she said, waving her hands toward the group, “We wish you the very best going forward. I hope to buy tickets to your movies one day.” Riley smiled.

Zady laughed. “From your mouth to God's ears…” Zady crossed her fingers. “I also wish you the best. All of you. Hopefully, Riley, in spite of these events, you’ll get your happily ever after, after all…”

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nckjcns · 6 years

Text

( ❛ ᴛʜɪs ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ 𝖘𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖒𝖊 — gregg, joe, & ariana )

@ariianas @kecry

[going to post this as an intro bc chatzy deleted the whole middle section UNTIL joe came in. all u missed was a really sad ari finding him & calling joe. so yeah here enjoy bye.xx]

Gregg: it seemed like the shit was piling up & dealing with it was something gregg had no intention of doing anytime soon. in order to ignore it all ( plus the pesky little memories that were currently occupying his mind ) drugs were his new best friend. there wasn’t any filming that needed to be done today and barbara was god knows where- so the brit was alone in his LA apartment. bored & alone. that was the scary part, though. when you have nothing to do your memories creep up on you like a thief in the knight. you end up thinking more than usual & allowing your brain to just do it’s own thing. like a character off of breaking bad he poured the magical contents into the cooker & loaded his syringe with about 20 units of water. once the two were mixed together he watched the contents turn into something that reminded him of gasoline. the male loaded his needle and took a second to rethink his decisions. it didn’t help, though.“just a bit more..” he whispered to himself before injecting the needle into the nearest available vein. he had to switch arms daily or else his veins would collapse from overuse and make it more than noticeable how he had been torturing his body. there was a small sting when the needle first broke through his newly tanned skin & for a moment-- he felt total bliss. while he was so focused on the feeling he forgot to stop squeezing the syringe and the drug continued to snake its way through his body. he remembered, eventually, but when his body went weak & his eyes began to close; this all seemed like such a terrible idea. it was too late. he had no idea what was happening but it was all happening all too fast. as his body went warm and the room began to spin his only thought was; “junkies die. not me. i’m not a junkie. so this can’t be happening to me.” everything went black & the male laid back on his bed, needle still in his arm.

Joe: seeing gregg's name show up on his phone was the shock of his life. he knew that his /former/ best friend was going through something recently. joe knew what was going out, and despite his better judgement he didn't reach out to him. he figured his WIFE could handle it. the wounds the situation between ariana and gregg caused where healing. scaring over in fact. but seeing that name pop up on his phone made it feel like it was just /yesterday/ they spit those awful words at each other. he let it ring a bit longer before he reluctantly accepted the call, putting it to his ear. "uh......hello ?" the twenty six year old awkwardly answered. he tried to sound tough in case this wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation. but joe was an anxious fuck, his fingers were ALREADY trembling.

Ariana: ‘ fuck ’ she mouthed to gregg, her entire frame heating up in pure nerves. the last time ariana heard joe’s voice was the day that ended it all, which sent an unsettling pain to the pit of her stomach. “hey, it’s ari,” she started, “don’t hang up.” the decision to spit out the truth was far from easy since this would be the /second time/ she delivered news about her husband, which would have ultimately proved joe right. with that aside, ariana took a moment to deeply inhale and exhale before mustering up enough courage to speak. “to make a very long, fucked up story short ───” she swallowed, not knowing how he was going to react, “gregg had an accident and ... you’re the only person i know that could help. like, right now.” she was practically pleading for his assistance as she stood in place, crossed fingers in the hopes that the other male wouldn’t disappoint.

Joe: hearing ariana's voice was.... well, it was the last thing he expected. joe was absolutely awful with any type of confrontation, and for a woman he used to adore so much... he couldn't help but to harbor an intense dread whenever he thought of her. "uh----------," was the only thing he could get out when she insisted not to hang up. it was tempting, he couldn't lie. but when she said gregg had an accident, all bets were off and he quickly shot off "wait---what, what kind of accident ? is he okay ? are you okay ?"

Ariana: “i, uh, don’t know what you would consider ‘ potentially overdosing, ’” she sighed, speaking in a whispered tone, loud enough for only them two to hear. there was another inch of relief as he stood on the line with her, not blaming him if he just decided to hang up at the mention of her name. this wasn’t about her ( or so she kept convincing herself ), so she prayed that joe could finally look past that once he arrived. “i’m fine, but he’s pretty ... you know, banged up.” that was far from a lie since gregg’s appearance took a complete turn, compared to any other night they spent together.“look, can i expect you here within the hour, or what?”

Joe: "....do you know what he's using ?" joe is suddenly doing fifty things at once, flinging up off the bed, tossing his clothes and possessions into a suitcase. for now, none of the hurt feelings and harsh words mattered. he just had to get wherever gregg was at. "what do you mean an hour ? i thought you guys left bali ? you're going to need to be more specific with what's going on here, ariana.... please."

Ariana: with occasional glances over her shoulder, actually spitting out the next words required more work than she thought. “well, i walked in his room and there was a needle in his arm,” she spoke, growing completely numb with the situation, “and he would’ve choked on his vomit if i didn’t get here when i did.” she had no clue if gregg wanted joe to know the finer details, but one look at him and joe would’ve instantly pieced it together. her head tilted itself at an angle to his next sentence, which instantly caught her by surprise. “we did, and when the hell did you fly over there ? ─── you know what ? not important, just hurry.”

Joe: "okay. that's heroin," joe confirmed, instantly feeling sick. people DIED from heroin overdoses every day. "i----uh, is there any weird brown substances around ? if there is, flush it." the actor instructed, throwing his duffle bag over his shoulder. "like right before you guys left. but listen---i'll get the first flight i can. in the meantime, don't let him leave the room, ariana. even when he goes to the bathroom, you watch him."

Ariana: the reassurance in his voice about the substance sent goosebumps to her arm, wondering how she allowed it to get this far. so far that gregg looked past her, and focused on a near-death experience instead. all of her bottled up emotions were slowly eating up her core, and could you blame her ? for the moment, the mention of the bathroom strikes her attention, yet she’s too consumed in her own thoughts to acknowledge the boy’s former activities. “yeah, i- i’ll watch him. unblock my number.” with that, she hung up, lowering the phone from her ear. “he’s coming.”

Gregg: it had been a total of about 24 hours since gregg had his little incident. according to ariana they were waiting on joe ( for some reason ) and gregg went from sick, to kind of okay, to even more sick. his body was craving more of something he couldn’t have. ariana wouldn’t even let him out of her sight- he couldn’t shower alone, eat alone, let alone use the bathroom alone. it was exhausting. but what made it worse was that his body was beginning to feel like it was collapsing every hour that passed. gregg was spending his last few hours in bed, not wanting to be bothered at all. his current mood was overly irritated and he couldn’t stop shaking. this was the worst feeling in the world-- craving something he knew he couldn’t have. & his body beating him up for being free of it. “come on.. is this really what we’re gonna do? hold me in this room until what? i have shit to do.”

Ariana: from the moment that ariana stepped foot into gregg’s apartment, she had no idea what the past few hours would’ve entailed. the young starlet completed a huge transition since she first entered, the set of tasks that she had to accomplish took most of her energy hard of her. it was hard enough for her to sleep due to the nightmares, but a deep sleep meant she might’ve missed any plea for help from her husband. ariana was beginning to question joe’s arrival since hours passed without any form of communication, but stalling gregg had been her main concern. “shut up,” she deterred his motives, eliminating any thought of him moving from his own mind, “you did this to yourself, so now you’re going to sit in it. literally. there’s no shot in hell that you’re moving until you’re sober .... completely sober, greggory.” one palm brought itself to her face as she finished speaking, gently rocking herself back and forth. “don’t even think about it.”

Joe: he had friends who did hard drugs. charlie heaton, the most famous one. but joe had spent the entire flight reading up on his heroin withdrawal information, from detox, to what to feed him. he had became a walking, talking addiction counselor in a matter of hours. joe was nervous as fuck but this wasn't about him. gregg's life was at stake, here. reaching gregg's apartment door, he knocked, shifting his weight back and forth as he anxiously awaited an answer.

Ariana: thumbs fiddled with themselves as she sat in silence, continuing to chew on her inner cheek as she surveyed her surroundings. with gregg falling in and out of sleep, there wasn’t much to do other than wonder how she had gotten to this point. not only that, but how she allowed the other male to fall back on drugs opposed to her. she snapped out of her thoughts prior to a couple of knocks, the same knocks that sent her flying across the spacious walls to the door. ariana took a moment to compose herself, moving any strands of hair behind her ears before swinging the door open. “finally,,” she started, a small smile placed itself on her lips, “i honestly thought you were a no-show.” seeing joe was weird, of course, which must’ve been why the smile faded once she remembered why he came. “he’s upstairs, and i’d, uh ... walk on thin ice, honestly. he’s moody, and incredibly sassy.”

Joe: seeing ariana for the first time since everything.... that was intense. if this had been any normal situation, joe would be flubbing up every other word, a flustered mess. instead, he gave her a sad smile of acknowledgement, "come on. you know i couldn't abandon him like this." he took a step inside, setting his duffle bag on the floor, heading into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, for gregg. "that's because he wants to get high," joe replied with dismay, "i---uh, yeah... be up there." and with that, he trudged up the stairs, heart racing. he paused at the door, giving it a gentle knock to let gregg know someone was about to enter. then joe stepped in, door closing behind him. his heart broke at the sight before him, but he somehow remained stoic, "hey there, old buddy."

Gregg: gregg might as well had been twinkling his toes and saying his alphabet with how ariana could freely go downstairs while he sat up here like a nine year old on punishment. he knew what was coming-- a pity party was about to rain in on him in his bedroom. if it wasn’t joe at the door, it was barbara, and he had yet to figure out what was worse. being sober fucking sucked. all he could think about was his parents and all the dumb things he had gotten himself into in the past few months. joe walking in was like a scene out of a movie- no matter how fucked up he was he couldn’t deny that he missed him. “ah! the man of the hour!” the male raised his arms up and showcased a huge smile, his voice clearly sarcastic. but as soon as his arms went past his head he threw his upper body over the bed and vomited into the newly positioned bedside trashcan. his stomach contracting & causing him severe abdominal pain afterwards. “oh fuck me.” he groaned before tossing his head back.

Joe: gregg looked awful. and seeing that.... it really took a toll on joe. as a man who typically became lost in his emotions, he had no choice but to swallow it all and be the STRONG one for once. if he even had it in him. but he wanted to think that he /did/. before he could say anything in reply to gregg's sarcastic remark, he was already vomiting. joe rushed to his side, setting the glass of water on the nightstand. "well---good news is, looks like you're just puking up stomach acid at this point. bad news ? you're dehydrated. but i'm afraid if you drink that water, you're just gonna throw it up again. not good, right ? joe sat on the edge of the bed, tentatively because he didn't know what gregg would do next, "so where's the heroin ? you got anymore ?"

Gregg: there was no way gregg could even see the severity of the situation right now. he was way too deep in his shitty mood and the constant shivering and vomiting wasn’t making it any better. but the worst part of it all was that he wanted to sleep, but the concoction of everything he was going through wouldn’t allow his eyes to close for more than a second. yet, through all of this, he knew joe was his saving grace. “ok.... so... /doc/ do i drink water or do i sit here and fucking off myself.” at this point he was irritated, if they weren’t going to let him get high then this was going to be a shit show. the male placed his hand on joe’s shoulder and sighed. “no. i don’t. or i wouldn’t be dying right now. but look. ariana. she’s a bit of a.. worrisome kind of girl. but you. i can reason with you. tell her i’m fine, let me.. get more of my happy stuff and we can go on about our lives like this never happened.”

Ariana: all ariana could do was sit on the sidelines while they reunited, fully aware that she was main reason as to why they fell off in the first place. the thought of them rekindling their friendship was something she could look forward to, watching how familiar their mannerisms were for each other. “gregg,” she scolded him, arms crossed themselves across her chest, “behave.” she decided it was best to momentarily tune out of their conversation, she owed them that much. besides, it seemed to ariana like joe knew /exactly/ what would cure gregg, ultimately the goal for inviting him into another secret. regardless of gregg’s unpleasant reaction to his arrival, ariana was sure that she owed joe more than she could promise. only if he managed to fix gregg, of course. eyes peered on the their conversation, kind of content with the way things were playing out so far.

Joe: there were some things that joe felt confident with, but risking gregg's life ? it wasn't something he was willing test the odds with. "listen, i---" his gaze shifts between ariana and gregg, knowing full well she was the only rational one here. "okay. so here's what we're going to do. we're going to get a doctor here. make him sign a nondisclosure," he nodded, feeling like this was the best way to ensure gregg got the care he needed, "and buddy, if you let a doctor check you out, he's going to give you something to help you sleep. wouldn't that be nice ? sleep ?"

Gregg: the males brows furrowed in confusion as he shook his head to all the comments that were being made right now. “oh fuck no!” he exclaimed both at ariana telling him to behave and also at joe mentioning a doctor. “you hate me. i’m convinced. is this my karma? look, i watched thirteen reasons why. you can just shove some gatorade down my throat, i’ll curse you out for a bit and we’ll be fine.” rolling his eyes, he couldn’t stand the thought of a doctor. at least not one that was going to be invading his personal space and judging him on his recent decisions. “sleep is cool i guess..” he mumbled, at this point sounding like a teenage boy.

Ariana: “gregg, are you kidding me? this isn’t a fucking television show,” she snapped, genuinely concerned for his well-being. the fact that he would even allude to that in a situation like this told her everything that she needed to know. there was nothing she wished more than to keep gregg’s wishes about a doctor, but if that’s what it took for his recovery then ariana was willing to look past his desires. “exactly, and you’ll waking up feeling like the old gregg again.” she was desperately praying for this to work since it was the only option, any other choice would expose this rendezvous.

Joe: joe scoffed when gregg actually compared what he was going through to a television show. thankfully, ariana spoke for him, quite literally taking the words out of his mouth. "i'm not saying he's going to do anything crazy ! maybe give you an iv, some vitamins, hydrated. jesus, that's going to take a hell of a lot less time than going cold turkey. and--and," he began having to focus his thoughts, "doctors, they can't say shit anyways, right ? that's against the law. no one will even have to know this happened except the three of us."

Gregg: “that didn’t stop-” the male paused, refraining from relating this situation yet again, to a tv show. it took him a moment to really look around and notice his surroundings. ariana wasn’t letting him do what he wanted and putting her foot down for the first time. and out of all people joe was here. he was actually here. someone that gregg loved a lot more than he would admit came to help. so this had to be more serious than what gregg could see. “ok..” he let out a sigh before biting the inside of his lip. “call the damn doctor then.”

Ariana: ariana cocked her head to the side once he started, only to roll her eyes once he stopped himself from speaking. part of her wondered where this desire to be high came from, especially since there were other methods before heroine. cocaine, for instance, seemed to be amongst hollywood’s most elite stars. some fell from the addiction, but thankfully gregg wasn’t a beloved star who was gone before his time. and, to ariana’s surprise, would have joe to thank for gregg’s swayed decisions. “finally,” her arms fell to her sides, “he has some sense. welcome, we’ve missed you.”

Joe: "listen, if it makes you feel any better," he said, looking his best friend in the eye, "i'll be here the whole time. i promise. if you need someone to yell at, talk to, anything. i'm not fucking leaving this room until you're good." with a deep sigh, addressing the fact he truly /wanted/ to be here. he stood up, offering ariana a hesitant smile, flashes of his awkward self appearing as he jabbed his thumb toward the door, "i---um, i'll go make some calls and get someone here."

Gregg: all other factors aside, gregg really appreciated what everyone was doing for him. this wasn’t him, it never was. but he let the things he was going through attack him until he didn’t know what else to go to once alcohol stopped working. but it was finally time to face his fears and he was so blessed to have the two most influential people in his life to help with that. “thank you.” was all he could make out as he nodded at the both of them.

#WOOHOO HAPPY FAMILY #drug tw #( ❛ HEADSPACE. — writings / this time wont you save me )

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blueyesandleatherjacket · 4 years

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The Fallen, 15/17

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 15/17.

Pairings: Nine x Rose.

A/N: Tagging @thebookster on her demand.

“We've all fallen, but at the same time we're not broken. There is the hint that we are going to get up again.” - Amy Lee.

CHAPTER 15:

It wasn’t until hours later, until the end of the afternoon, that Maxence was allowed to go to bed in the bedroom he used to sleep in when he was younger, and when he came back after his two years of disappearance. Today, it was just because he was too exhausted to go back home through buses and Tegan had work to do in his surgery. They would both sleep there that night and go back to the flat the next morning. The argument had been rough, and Maxence was done justifying himself. It had been easier to convince Anna Lewis that he was sane than to convince his mother and brother that he hadn’t carved these words in his self. Well, Joanne was keener to believe him when Tegan was refusing any of this non-sense. They both knew something Maxence didn’t, and it had been confirmed when he got angry and bit back. It seemed clear to him that they both hiding things from him, things he might have said when he was under drugs or heavily alcoholised. As soon as they were home, Joanne ripped the bandages off his arm to see what was under. The letters R.U.N. were clear on his skin, surrounded and covered by dried and fresh blood, stinking hospital disinfectant. She had observed the letters. At first, she had looked sad. Then, she got angry like he had thought she would. This doctor had told them he didn’t self-harm but looked like self-harming. He was totally unable to tell her why these letters, why this word, how it had appeared on his skin. He just woke up and it was there. She didn’t believe him at first, but something in her facial expressions showed him that it was a cover, that a part of her did believe his non-sense and she was just acting this why to protect him. Tegan however has vehemently been telling him that he believed none of this bullshit and that he wouldn’t leave him alone ever again despite the instructions of the doctor Lewis. If this woman couldn’t recognise self-harming when she saw it, how could she have become a therapist this famous around here? How could they accept her to take care of his brother knowing that? Joanne had met the woman and decided that she was trustworthy, and she spelt it out to her second son. It wasn’t only Maxence’s decision but also hers. Tegan could only shut up on that one, but he refused to let Maxence have the last word on the matter. ‘Words don’t appear suddenly on one’s skin,’ had he declared furiously before accusing him of having taken something while he was alone. To which Maxence answered by peeing in an empty mug left on the coffee table and giving it to him for analysis. His behaviour obviously infuriated them more and the fact they refused to believe him was making him internally explode. His rage was climbing step by step, like a spark thrown in a forest ground: the dry twigs were producing smoke as the first flame was burning bright and spreading fast to the other twigs and fallen leaves, to the green foam licking the foot of trees and climbing along the trunks, reaching the branches, slipping on the bright green leaves, jumping to the next tree and spreading until the whole forest was on fire; or like a calm sea quietly retiring, preparing its revenge on the world of Humans before submerging it with the violence of a volcano spitting fire. At that moment, he had been that tiny spark burning the forest, that sea crashing on the land to destroy it all, that volcano erupting. He had clenched his fists, contracted his jaw and barked… No, it wasn’t a word that had come out of his throat but more something like a loud growl as if a feral beast was sleeping in him and was awoken by the fury he felt. Time had slowed down and for a second, for a terribly long second, he was tempted to grab their throat and crush them until their face turned red then blue, until blood filled the white in their eyes. The rage was overwhelming him blinding him. He was distancing himself from his corporeal envelope, watching the scene from someone else’s point of view, but through his own eyes. His mother and his brother had stepped back, terror written all over their face, and he had realised that he had lunged forward. He couldn’t control his body. And then, he had been in control again, had moved back brutally, and fallen on the ground. The shock had brought him back to his senses, but he hadn’t gotten up and no one had come to help him. A few minutes later, the front door was slammed and his mother’s face had appeared before him. She had helped him up, checked him for any wound and sent him to the kitchen where she had silently redone the bandage around his arm, given him food and told him to go to bed. The only relief of this day. He didn’t fall asleep immediately asleep despite his exhaustion after over a day without sleeping. His mind was blank. He was staring at the cracked paint of the ceiling until he drifted off. That night, he didn’t dream, or he did but couldn’t remember. He didn’t wake up of all night, of all morning. Apparently, surviving “self-harm” and rage rising to the point of almost hurting his family was draining enough to sleep until late in the afternoon. His mother was sat at the foot of his bed, watching over him. She probably had spent all night here to be sure he wouldn’t run away or hurt himself again. The first option had happened before, when the withdrawal was too hard to handle and a dose was necessary. None of his plans ever worked: his mother and brother had thought about it all. “Tell me you haven’t done it.” “I haven’t,” he mumbled sleepily. “Tegan doesn’t believe it, and he’s qualified for this kind of things.” “Tegan’s wrong. He’s rational. This,” he pointed to his arm, “is not rational. I have troubles believing it myself. But this is the truth. These three letters carved themselves in my skin. I saw it with my own eyes.” Maxence had nothing to hide, no reason to lie. He was clean and sober. He hadn’t had the time to drink or take anything, and he had even refused painkillers when he was at the hospital. It was a real proof of sobriety and courage and will. On one hand, it was hard to believe him: words just didn’t appear on one’s skin. On the other hand, Maxence hadn’t given them a reason to doubt him in the last six months. He had been a real model of virtue since his last journey in rehab and there was no sign of him ever falling back in his bad habits. The idea that he could die if he was falling back in his demons seemed to have brought him back to his senses. Which was relieving to Joanne. But she hated siding with one of her sons and leaving the other aside. Especially when the other one was someone who always felt like his side was never taken because he wasn’t blood-related to her. “I want to believe you, Maxence. But you have to understand why we’re doubting.” “I refused to believe it too, but that’s the truth.” And Joanne had to admit that he was right. He refused to go back to the flat for a few days. He was still mad at Tegan for being so harsh on him and pushing him so far when he was so unstable. It was the night after his appointment with the Dr Anna Lewis. He woke up once with that stinging pain once again. It was on his right side this time. Another word. A longer word. ‘DOCTOR’. It comforted him in his choices of studies and convinced his mother that he had been saying the truth since the beginning. She saw the letters form themselves on his skin with her own eyes. She didn’t take him to the hospital. She took care of him herself. If they showed up to the hospital with another proof that he had “self-harmed” – which he hadn’t, Joanne was sure of it now – they would have him locked away and she certainly wasn’t gonna allow that. He continued on seeing the doctor Lewis. This woman had seen something in him, or he had told her something that had convinced her he was mentally sane despite everything strange happening around him. Once a week, he was going to the hospital, always accompanied by his mother, and was spending an hour in her office. He felt much better when he was walking out of this office but never talked about what they were telling each other. Joanne never asked questions either. She wanted to know, but if he needed someone from the outside to speak, it was because he couldn’t manage to say it to her, or was afraid to. Whatever it was, she was just glad that her son could talk to someone and feel better. It wasn’t an easy victory after the last few years they had been through. He was making an extraordinary recovery. What Joanne didn’t know was that Anna had found some things about Maxence that could possibly explain his strange behaviour and the sudden appearance of these words on his skin. After her rehab, after her own therapy – that she was still going to along with the AA and anonymous junkies meetings – she had been given files, made her researches on the patients. She also had made her researches on Maxence, this man she had met when she was in her depravity. She had found a confidential file on her desk once. No one was able to tell her how it had arrived there, but she soon understood why. It had been dropped on her desk because she knew Maxence and could help him since she had been through a similar experience. The words on his skin were familiar to her, she had the same on her own skin. They had appeared shortly after meeting Maxence, but she knew what they meant. She just couldn’t tell him. It was written in red and bold in his file. “A new word appeared last week. The night that followed our last appointment.” “In the middle of the night again?” “Yeah. I was at my mom’s. She saw it with her own eyes. She believes me now, even if neither of us understand how it’s even possible. And she knows for sure that I’m sober.” “What’s the new word?” Maxence stood up and carefully lifted up his jacket and T-shirt to show her the red swollen letters underneath. It wasn’t bleeding anymore but it was sensitive and painful. It could totally be healed by the end of the day too though. His body seemed to have a fast healing power he never was aware of before. It was coming in quite handy with this new ‘sickness’ of his. He wished it could make the words disappear totally, but it was impossible so he was hiding them under his clothes. “‘Doctor’? Does it mean anything to you?” “Not at all?” He shook his head, tucked his shirt back in his pants and sat back down with a sigh. Two words and none of them had a meaning to him, nor do they mean anything at all when he tried to combine them. His body and mind were sending him a reminder, or a warning and he didn’t have the faintest idea of what it could be. “I have this word too,” Anna softly admitted. She slowly got up and showed him the pale skin of her side where the healed letters were. It was the same words, with the same writing, on the same spot, but on two different persons. It couldn’t be a coincidence. There had to be a link to all of this. Something to explain why the words were appearing on the both of them. “Do you know the doctor Nash Grieve?” the doctor Lewis asked, sitting back in her chair. > Once again, Maxence shook his head. Yet, his brow was furrowed. He was certain not to know the doctor Nash Grieve but the name was kind of familiar to his ears. As if he was supposed to know this man… or woman but couldn’t remember it. Something was pushing against the walls of the void in his mind. All the answers he needed were hidden there. He was convinced of it. Anna told him that the doctor Nash Grieve was a therapist specialised in ‘supernatural’ sickness like the one they were both suffering from. However, when Anna had wanted to ask for her help when her words appeared, she was nowhere to be found. When she had looked for her after reading Maxence’s file – who had been registered with her a while ago but couldn’t remember it – she hadn’t been able to find her either. No one knew where or who she was. It was like she had disappeared from Earth. Or been eliminated. After all, quitting Quiston was punished with the death sentence if you were found…

To be continued...

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#doctor who #ninth doctor #rose tyler #doctor x rose #dw fic #the fallen

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corruptionofteller · 6 years

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19. Not Mie

The pounding of his heart filled his ears even louder than the roar of his Harley as Jax twisted the throttle, urging his Dyna to top out around 110 mph. The wind pricked at his whiskered covered face but he felt nothing. The possibilities roaming around his head were endless. The urgent tone in Gemma’s voice had him completely on edge as he sped his way back towards Charming. He might have been the president of SAMCRO but first and foremost he was a father and his family came first, otherwise what was he doing all this shit for? Sometimes he wondered the answer to that exact question, not really coming to a conclusion of a definite answer.

Breezing past the carved wooden sign entering their town, the words ‘Welcome to Charming’ catching Jax’s eyes as they always did when he rolled back into the place they called home. He had hoped he would have felt the vibration of his burner in his jeans pocket alerting him of a false alarm with his son. Unfortunately, to no avail did any such call come. The panic flared up the closer to Teller-Morrow he got, recalling the panic in his mother’s voice on the other end of the phone.

Giving the throttle another twist his glided down Main Street, the buildings and people just cardboard cutouts as he passed. The only thought he could focus on was his son. Abel had been through so much in his short life; born premature cause of his junkie mother, the family flaw, stomach inside out, kidnapped, losing Tara...the list seemed never ending and it tore Jax from the inside knowing that no matter how hard he worked to protect the one thing in his sad existence that mattered, his only son continues to live is such chaos and turmoil.

Leaning the bike he rounded the last corner to TM, his palms suddenly felt sweaty and his heart began to thumb hard within his chest. As he rode through the iron gates he was greeted by his mother, Gemma, the matriarch of their biker kingdom. The worry on her face did nothing to ease his own overwhelming fear.

“Did you find him?” Jax questioned quickly, not even pulling his Harley into the normal spot.

“No baby..I don’t know where he could have went. Unser, Chucky, Brooke..they were all here. He just vanished.” Gemma, bit down on her glossy lower lip repeatedly, her eyes continuously darting around the lot.

“He just can’t vanish, mom!” His voice rose a few octaves in anger. He couldn’t believe that even with all the eyes on him, Abel could disappear into thin air. Jax strode to the clubhouse doors where he was met by Unser.

“Jax, he was here one minute, gone the next. He was on the swings, I went to my trailer to grab a drink and poof. Gone.” The aged man scanned Jax’s expression, seeing the anger and worry that was plastered across his unshaven face, finally speaking through clenched teeth.

“Well? Why the fuck isn’t everyone lookin’?!” Jax strode angrily through the clubhouse hall, noticing the many croeaters and Prospects searching every inch of the space, coming up empty handed. He had instantly regret his outburst.

“We’ve searched everywhere, Jackson..do you think..?” The blonde biker’s head whipped around to come face to face once again with his mother, shaking his head not even wanting to hear any other explanation for his son’s disappearance.

“Where the hell is Scarlet? Abel was supposed to be going home with her. Did anyone contact her for fuck sake?” The MC president’s eyes moved fluently around the room, his mind trying to think rationally while in the back of it he was thinking the worst. If anything, anything at all happened to his kid again, some asshole was going to pay and pay dearly. Jax would make sure of it with his own two hands.

“Called her over an hour ago Jax. I’ll try again.” Chucky piped up, phone already in his makeshift hands dialing Scarlet’s number. Quickly Jax began to bark out orders.

“You..and you..” He pointed at two women, couldn’t remember their names and at that moment really didn’t give a fuck. “Check every inch of this goddamn room. Unser check the lot and that shithole you call a trailer. Every square inch of it. Montez search the garage. Mom, get this fucking place locked down. No one in or out without my say. Anyone tries to leave before my kid is found I put a bullet in your ass!” Jax knew his words were harsh but the memories and anguish that were present in Abel’s kidnapping were suddenly flooding back. His chest began to tighten at the memories of that day, watching the boat speed away with his infant son and not a goddamn thing Jax could do about it.

The bustle of people wasn’t long dissipating when the biker king barked out his orders. They all knew the panic Jax felt; most of them had been there when the Irish took his son. Suddenly, the thought of Galen’s cocky ass smirk appeared in Jax’s mind. No, never. He wouldn’t dare. Not in broad daylight and on his fuckin’ turf. But it wouldn’t have been the first time the Irish pulled a fuckin’ stunt. It had only been a couple years since he had the clubhouse rebuilt after the Irish cunts blew the original building to splinters. His teeth clenched and rolled around, causing his molars to grind in the back.

“Chucky!” Jax called out, the smaller man turning quickly to attend to anything he was needed for. “There was no deliveries today right?” Chucky scratched his chin with those stubs his mother had purchased him recently. “Well?!” Jax’s annoyance grew rapidly.

“Just one. Parts for the garage. Your mom signed for it. I was in the office when it came. We were all there Jax. Abel couldn’t have..” Stumbling over his words, Chucky’s eye began to widen.

“Get me the name of that fuckin’ driver. Until I find Abel, nothin’ is to be unturned. Go!” Chucky hurried out of the clubhouse and disappeared off to the garage, leaving Jax to his own search.

As people hurried around him Jax felt as though everything was in slow motion yet on fast forward all at the same time. His heart ached and for a moment as he started to make his way down the back hall he grabbed at his chest, fisting the white tshirt that laid underneath his leather. If someone did take Abel, he couldn’t go through that shit again, it would kill him from the inside out. In that moment he silently prayed that this was all a nasty trick from whoever in the hell was in charge upstairs. Jax had never planned to be a father and even though he hated Wendy when she got pregnant and tried to trap his ass, once he was able to let go of his own selfishness and arrogance, his son became the most important fixture in his life. He’d die for his kid just as he would any one member of his immediate and non blood family.

Jax’s vision scanned every crook and crevice of the back of the clubhouse, making his way down to where the apartments were located, in particular the one he had spent a lot of his time after Tara had passed away. Even though Abel had spent most days and nights with Gemma, when he was with Jax it was right there in that very building. As he reached out for the brass door handle he hoped he would push it open and find his son safe and sound. Inhaling a deep breath he forced the door open.

The deep breath he had just drew in moments ago released when he pushed, finding a completely deserted room, everything untouched just as he had left it weeks ago when he decided it was time to move back to the house and be a goddamn father to Abel, and a possible ol’ man to Scarlet. He thought about that choice as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his head falling into his hands before threading his fingers to the blonde, greasy strands of his hair to push them back out of his face. His eyes closed, his mind drifting to the thoughts of ‘what ifs’. His fingers steepled at his scruffy face as the unreal thinking crept into his head. A cruel joke, what a fucked up, cruel ass joke that would be.

“Daddy?” Blowing out a breath moments before opening his eyes, Jax heard the familiar soft voice pricking at his ears. His eyes widened, an unforced smile making its way across his face. There stood only inches in front of him the blond haired, miniature version of himself. Extending his arms without thought, Jax guided the little boy into him, pressing his son in against his leather. His cheek rested on the top of Abel’s head, his dry lips brushing a kiss over his hair.

“Buddy, where were you? You had us scared to death.” Jax, reluctantly pried his son from his embrace to allow himself to look into his eyes as Abel pointed to the old makeshift closet behind the door. He was sure the worry and concern was still plastered there as Abel looked up at him, almost seemingly confused.

“Grandma said I had to go with Scarlet, Daddy. I don’t wanna go, I wanna stay with you.” His voice was quiet yet demanding. Jax knew with everything Abel had been through, the latest crisis was losing Tara just over a year ago. With Wendy not in his life and losing the only mother figure his son had, the little boy was now, yet again, twisted up. Jax hadn’t helped that situation; croeater night after night, his son being bounced between his mother to a few girls at Redwoody and Diosa. There was a constant string of unfamiliar women in Abel’s life. Jax was guessing, Scarlet was the final straw.

“Buddy, Scarlet wants to help take care of you...take care of us. She really likes you, ya know. She’s not like the other girls.” Even as Jax spoke the reassuring words about Scarlet to his impressionable young son, the anger was building in him. Where the hell was she? His son was fuckin’ missing and she had yet to show her face. Even though Abel wasn’t her responsibility, if she wanted to be with Jax, Abel was a package deal. No exceptions. He’d be sure to face that shit with her later.

“She didn’t come for me. She’s gonna leave like mommy….” The frown that formed on his son’s face caused Jax’s heart to feel crushed under the weight of it. Gemma had been the only stable woman in his son’s life so there was no surprise that Abel would say such words to his father. The thing about children is they hold nothing back and they speak their mind. Just as Abel was in that moment. “...right Daddy?”

Before Jax could reassure his son Scarlet was going to stay with them, even if he hadn’t been so sure himself, he heard footsteps making their way down the hall.

Scarlet

Scarlet didn’t trust the home test she had taken only days ago so she thought it would be best to see the professionals to determine if she was in fact was with child. She sat in the office waiting for the doctor to return with her results. Her phone was buzzing in her purse but she couldn’t seem to take her mind of the pending moment. For the past few days she had been over the fence and back again about what she would do. Did she want to be a mother? Could she handle it?

Every scenario had been played out in her head and even though most ended with her alone with a baby she knew she would go through with it. Jax or not, if there was a kid growing inside of her womb Scarlet was sure she would be a better mother then her own. That may not have set the bar very high but at least she knew what /not/ to do.

With a light knock on the office door the doctor walked in holding a paper with Scarlet’s fate. “Are you ready?” The doctor walked in with a smile, taking a seat. Scarlet nodded not realizing she was holding her breath as the doctor began. “Well your home test was correct. You are in fact pregnant. Judging by the hormone levels from your lab work, I would guess you are about 8 to 9 weeks. I am going to prescribe some prenatal care for you and have you come back in two weeks for a full work up. We will do your first ultrasound then. That is if you want to go through with this pregnancy.”

Scarlet’s eyes lifted to the doctor who was writing notes on the chart. She paused when there was no answer from the young woman sitting with a blank expression. “You can take some time to think it over, talk to your partner about this. You do not need to make any hard choices today.”

All she could do was nod in shock. Again her phone began to buzz from her purse as the doctor handed Scarlet an appointment card.

“Thank you. I will see you in two weeks.” Scarlet smiled, stepping out of the room in a daze. When she reached the card she got in pulling out her phone seeing a bunch of missed calls. Without bothering to check voicemail she drove to TM with the assumption it was related to Otto.

When she pulled up it was clear the club was in some sort of panic. She didn’t even bother parking her car. Jumping out she ran into the club house. “Where is Jax?” She questioned looking around with fear in her tone.

“Down the hall, doll. You ok you don’t look so hot?” She only heard part of what Chucky had said as she ran down the hall to find Jax kneeling down eye level with Abel. The mini version of Jax looked up when Scarlet walked in causing Jax to turn, looking up at her with anger. ‘Shit. He knows. Fucking David had to have told him’ Scarlet thought as Jax stood up to fully face her.

“Jax I know what you are thinking but I didn’t plan this.” She had began to explain but Jax cut her off with a keen tone for Abel’s sake. His eyes dark and filled with danger.

“Stay here.” He gritted through his teeth as he lead Abel out to Gemma, leaving Scarlet in a panic waiting for his return.

Jax

The moment Jax heard Scarlet out of breath and a panicked tone in her voice he knew then and there she was going to try and apologize for not being there for Abel just as he had asked her to when he had left her place earlier that morning. As upset as Jax was for the entire ordeal, he was more upset wondering if Scarlet would be able to be the kind of ol’ lady he needed. After all he had a son, a child he needed any woman he was to be with in any kind of seriousness, they needed to be able to accept that kind of responsibility as their own. He knew Scarlet had a pretty shitty upbringing herself, so it would be unfair of him to assume she could parent a child, especially one that was not of her own flesh and blood. But regardless, she needed to prove Abel was as important to her as he was.

“Don’t let him out of your sight.” Jax instructed his mother with a very dominant tone. If Abel was going to start playing fuckin’ houdini, people better be on their goddamn toes around there.

“I got him, baby.” Gemma took Abel by the hand, a death grip by the looks of it. “Jackson...go easy on her, okay?” His mother had recently taken a liking to Scarlet. She felt she would be fine ol’ lady material. As strong as the feelings was for her that Jax was having, he still needed to put priorities first before his dick, even if Scarlet was fastly becoming more that just a piece of sweet ass.

In response to Gemma, Jax nodded before turning back the way he had just came, returning to the apartment he rarely stepped foot into anymore. It was hard to believe it had been months since he had been balls deep in a ‘eater in that room, in any room if he really thought about it. Maybe the anger he was feeling right now with Scarlet could lead into some damn good angry sex. Yeah, they seemed to take a liking for that kinda thing.

Upon re-entering the room, his eyes quickly fell onto Scarlet as she seemed to be pacing nervously around the enclosed space. There was no denying the anger that was on display in his eyes as she finally looked up at him, opening her mouth to speak only to have Jax stop her.

“Where the fuck were you? I /asked/ you this morning to come here for Abel. Yet you never fuckin’ showed. He goes fuckin’ missing and you were called, not once, not twice but three fuckin’ times yet where were you? Off trying to be a fuckin’ hero by yourself, figuring out your father’s murder I suppose huh? You wanna be a goddamn ol’ lady, you damn well better start acting like one. Abel is /my/ son. That means you want me, it’s a package deal sweetheart. Take it or fuckin’ leave it!”

His eyes narrowed in on the woman that he was beginning to develop feelings for. Strong feelings, even if he hadn’t exactly relayed them to her completely yet. And as he stood there, anger washing over him he wondered if that was a good thing. Maybe she’d decide this was not the kind of life she wanted, with Abel or with him. But he needed to know just where her priorities were going to lie.

“Well? Where the hell were you Scarlet?!”

Scarlet

“Abel was missing??” Was all she really could comprehend him saying, stepping towards the door, Jax stood firmly in front of her. She wanted to go to Abel but at her second attempt to walk past Jax his hand shoved her back. Scarlet's eyes shot up at him hurt with the way he was treating her. She knew right then he was not ready for another child but what had her surprised was she was ready.

Anger filled her veins as Jax scolded her for not being at the club with Abel. The room had become stuffy, a sheer layer of sweat covered her forehead as she tried to pick from the words jumbled in her head. She knew he was right, she was supposed to be there over an hour ago and she did forget while being thrown off by her own crisis.

“I wasn’t out doing anything I wasn’t allowed to do but then again according to you I never do a damn thing right! I was dealing with something and I knew he was here, he was safe, you are acting like I left Abel alone or at school. Is this your way of calling me a shitty mother?” The words she spoke though not from his mouth it all still hurt the same. She was already doubting herself with the news of her unborn child only to have the father come down on her like this made her head spin.

Who was Scarlet kidding? She couldn’t even babysit and here she was thinking of having her own child. It had been a battle with Abel as it was. She knew that kid wanted nothing to do with her and she always feared that would push Jax away.

She began to lose her breath. As panic really started to set in she tried to walk away to get air but again Jax grabbed her arm, shoving her back.

“You are going to stand here and talk to me about this, don’t make me ask again why weren’t you here?” He snapped through gritted teeth only adding to her own mixture of emotions.

“Where was I? I was at the fucking hospital Jax! I didn’t know I needed to check in with my keeper, the all mighty Jax fuckin’ Teller whenever I stepped out of my own house! I was out having my life turned upside down yet again courteous of you! You want me to be an Ol’ Lady? How about you treat me like one and not an ‘eater you have wrapped in fucking bubble wrap! How about you look at me and see /me/ not what you /want/ me to be! How about you take responsibility for your own shit and understand I am not here to bow down to you! I am here because I fucking care about you! Yeah Otto brought me here but I stayed for you, for Abel. I stayed when I should have left. Maybe then I wouldn’t be standing here getting yelled at for being late to pick up /your/ son because I was off finding out the king of Samcro knocked /me/ up!”

When the truth left her lips she instantly prayed he didn’t hear her. Her hands flew to her mouth as the tears spilled, watching the words she slapped him with turnover in his head. Scarlet felt sick but not the same ‘lose your lunch’ kind of sick she had been feeling for the past week. She felt sick because she knew the truth was, she was going to walk out that room with her life changed and from the look on that man’s face it wasn’t going to be a happy ending for her.

Jax

Blocking the doorway so Scarlet was forced to talk to him, or more like yell at him, he stood firm regardless of the words she spat back at him. It wasn’t the first time they fought or the last, so he hoped. It wasn’t until the last string of words left her mouth and the reaction that went with it did Jax suddenly shift gears. Had Scarlet just said what he thought she had?

He must have heard her wrong. There was no fuckin’ way she was pregnant and if she was it sure as hell wasn’t his kid. He’s careful with that shit, Christ everyone knew for years he bought rubbers, one box at a time just to stay humble. And he used those motherfuckers faithfully. Scarlet was obviously out of her damn mind. There was just no way.

“You’re fuckin’ pregnant?” Those were the only words that erupted from him until his could get some kind of footing on what she truly had shouted at him. The way it flew out of her mouth and the reaction that followed, he was positive she wasn’t planning on blurting that shit out the way she had.

The earlier events had now been replaced with what seemed like another crisis. There was no way in hell, none that this kid, if she was spilling the truth, was his. They might have fucked on numerous occasions but he was careful. He was always fuckin’ careful, litterally, ever since Wendy pulled the shit she had with Abel, even if now he didn’t regret it one bit. Pacing around the small room, Jax couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It couldn’t be true, he could barely raise Abel in the chaos and mayhem that surrounded them. But to bring another into the life they were leading? No, it wasn’t so. It couldn’t be. Without thinking Jax began to snap back.

“I don’t know who’s fuckin’ kid you’re carryin’ but it ain’t mine. But you have the nerve to time after time throw shit in my face about dippin’ my dick in other pussy yet there you are, out gettin’ knocked up while I’m goddamn well falling for you! Unfuckinbelievable!” His hand threw up in the air as the last word sprung from his mouth.

Scarlet

Scarlet’s heart crumbed into a million pieces as she took in each word. Yes it was true she had the feeling he wouldn’t want a kid but to flat out deny it was his wasn’t what she had expected. It took everything inside her not to break down in front of him. She had been hurt a thousand times but this was a pain she never felt before. Jax Teller finally broke her. Many have tried but he did it with a single breath.

“No, you are right, the time you fuckin’ came inside me on the reaper table couldn’t have got me knocked up. Because I was out fucking around when you had Prospects on me at all times and when they were not with me I was with you but still fucking around! I don’t want anything from you anymore. You do what you will for Otto. But I am done!” The lump in her throat threatened to let the floodgates open, her eyes dropping from his she stepped past him, walking out the apartment completely destroyed by the only man she had ever really felt love for.

Walking through the clubhouse just as the other members had walked in, she couldn’t bring herself to look at any one of them because if she did she knew she couldn’t hold her tears back.

“Darlin’?” Chibs questioned, concerned as she walked past them. Each one stopped walking as she walked out confused about the situation.

David had pulled up on his bike and with one look at her he knew Jax Teller failed Scarlet in her time of need. He unclasped his helmet, handing it over to her. Kicking her leg over on the bike she put the helmet on, leaving the rental car behind. “Please get me out of here.” She sniffled back her tears, not giving club a second look as David rode them out of the small gated kingdom.

Pulling up to the house she got off the back of David’s Harley, putting her hands up before David could even try to comfort her, tossing him the helmet. “Just don’t. I am going to grab some things and call a cab. You finish your shit here, we can meet back up in LA later. I need to just be alone. Please.” The last word being the one that gave que for her tears to flow like a river.

Once inside the house she locked the door bolting it shut so no one could get in. She didn’t know what she was going to do or where she was really going but she wasted no time packing her things refusing to stay a minute longer in the god forsaken town she had mistaken for her home.

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