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thatbritishactor · 3 years

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Adventures in Success (part 10)

Paring : Ben Barnes x Reader

Summary: Ben’s agent is retiring and the firm wants you to represent him. It’s going to be hard for you not to mix work with feelings.

Warning: None, language (cursing).

Words: 3,300

Type : Fluff

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

You’ve been officially dating for two months, but it feels like you’ve been together for longer. You’ve met all of Ben’s close friends, and you’ve introduced him to a few of yours. You’ve had to deal with feelings of betrayal on their part: how dare you keep your relationship a secret for so long? You’ve been scolded and met with incomprehension, but as soon as they met him, they were instantly enthralled by him. Ben knows how to win people over: his effortless charm, wits and kindness conquer everyone around him.

You still spend most of your time at his place, finding it unbearable to be away from him. Thankfully, he seeks your company as much as you seek his, and time flies by when you’re together. It’s taken a toll on your work, you’re not as dedicated as before, and your boss is starting to notice. Before, your job came before everything else. You worked an average of fifty hours a week, dividing your time between script reading, meeting your actors, callings producers and casting directors.

Today, Ben comes before your work, even before your friends. You know that some of it isn’t healthy, and that you shouldn’t prioritize your relationship over everything else. But you can’t resist him, and you’re at your happiest when you’re with him. He seems to struggle as well, avoiding castings, not reading as many scripts as he used to. Whenever you start to get anxious about it, you quickly dismiss it, one glance at Ben is enough to dissolve all your fears. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and you intend to hold onto and fight for your relationship with everything you’ve got.

By the end of November, Ben has to leave for London, and the heart ache induced by your imminent separation keeps growing. You’ve spent the better part of a year wanting him so badly it hurt you, and now that you finally have him, you can’t imagine how you’re going to be able to go back to a life without him.

Your feelings for him scare you, for they seem to get stronger every day. You thought that you were already done for when you weren’t even dating him, but it’s getting even worse. Somehow, waking up next to him every day is even better than what you had ever imagined. Although, you know that this is the easy bit: the honeymoon phase. The part where you love everything about the person you’re newly dating and can’t imagine ever picking a fight with them. You know that someday, his flaws will get to you, and that you’ll find him annoying. But today, you just can’t imagine that you’ll ever come to hate anything about him.

Sure, he’s a distracted person. He forgets things, he daydreams a lot, and he’s a people pleaser. Something inside him pushes him to accommodate everyone around him, and you can see that it might trigger your insecurities someday. But for now, you simply adore him, and you want to indulge in those feelings as much as possible. You’re incredibly nervous about the upcoming separation: Ben has to be in London for at least four months, and you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle it. You’ve come up with a plan though, but you haven’t told him, wanting to surprise him.

The night before his departure, you’re lying in bed with him, tightly pressed against his chest. He places soft kisses on your forehead, and you can feel the regular pounding of his heart, lulling you to sleep.

You’re tired and your eyes close by themselves, but you refuse to drift away, because when you’ll wake up, you’ll have to take him to the airport, and you’ll be apart -again- for months. You’ve realized that apart from your anxiety, it’s the separations that pose the biggest threat to your relationship. But this man is so worth it, you think, his fingers slowly caressing your bare back; you’d do anything for him.

“Do you want me to turn off the light?” he murmurs, and you sigh, closing your eyes and rubbing your nose on his chest.

“No… I don’t want to sleep” you lie, and Ben chuckles.

“I can see you’re totally falling asleep, love” he says, and your heart misses a bit at the term of endearment. You haven’t told him you love him yet, although the words are demanding to escape your lips. You haven’t loved anyone the way that you love him, and your feelings for him are so obvious, it’s embarrassing. Something’s keeping you from uttering the words though: the fear that it’d scare him away. You’ve been together for two months, it’s too soon. You’re so deathly afraid of losing him, you don’t completely allow yourself to surrender to your feelings yet.

Ben calls you love though, and sweetheart, sometimes dear, and it’s the most beautiful things you’ve ever heard, making you melt into a puddle every time. You wonder if he wants to tell you he loves you too, but you dismiss the thought, distracted by Ben moving against you.

“All right, I’m shutting the light” he says, and you lift your head to protest.

“Nooooo” you whine, and he laughs, his arms holding you impossibly closer to him.

“What is it?” he asks, “I can see that you’re incredibly sleepy.”

“I don’t want to go to sleep, because I don’t want to be tomorrow” you reply, and you bury your face against his chest to hide your face. He sighs and rubs his cheek on your hair, and you raise your head to meet his dark eyes.

“I know, me neither” he admits, and you can hear the longing in his voice.

“It sucks” you reply, and he gently pushes a strand of hair away from your face.

“Tell me about it” he replies, pensive.

You let go of him and lean back, and he slowly lets you go, looking curious.

“At least you’re going to meet Phoebe Waller Bridge” you say, trying to change the subject, resting your head on your hand. “I’m so jealous” you add.

Ben smiles, his eyes soft, and your heart clenches in your chest. He’s eerily beautiful, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to that. He takes your breath away twenty times a day, and you still can’t believe that you’re the lucky woman who gets to be with him.

“Want me to ask her stuff?” he asks, his beautiful black eyes appraising you.

“I’d have to write it down” you joke “I have so many questions for her”.

“Go ahead” he replies, sliding a hand through his hair. “I’ll ask her.” He says with a smirk on his lips.

“You’d do that for me?” you mock in a high voice, putting a hand on your chest and dramatically batting your eyelashes.

Ben lets out a laugh “Anything for the one I love”, he replies, and you instantly stop breathing. Ben doesn’t seem phased at all, getting back to slowly caressing your arm, his eyes following the movements of his fingers, while your voice is stuck somewhere in your throat. When the silence thickens, he glances back at you, frowning.

“Is everything all right?” he asks, seeming worried.

You blink stupidly, a lump in your throat.

“Y… yeah” you reply, lowering your eyes, your heart beating fast in your chest.

“C’mon, I know you by now” he sighs “I know when something’s bothering you” and there is that smile again, the one that could make snow melt.

“You’ve just said you loved me” you mutter, putting a hand over your eyes, unable to meet his gaze. He laughs again, before placing a hand on the side of your face, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been in love with you for a year now, don’t tell me this comes as a surprise” he says in an incredulous voice, and you close your eyes, unable to handle the storm of emotions overwhelming you.

When you open them again, he’s still gazing at you, the softest expression on his face, and you lean in to kiss him.

“I love you too” you whisper against his lips, and his hands cup your face before they slide in your hair. You roll on your back, his weight on top of you, your heart seeming to burst in your chest.

II.

It’s become a ritual now: you play the music from Bo Burnham’s Inside in the morning while you’re both getting ready, and the two of you sing along to the soundtrack, knowing each song by heart. You’ve made the coffee and helped him finish packing his suitcase, something he’s told you before he struggles with. Being an organized, neat person, you secretly love packing and tidying things up, so you’re thrilled to help him. Ben has joked about you being perfect for each other, your orderliness completing his messiness, and you’ve laughed, pretending to be chill about it, ignoring your accelerated heartbeat and the warmth spreading in your chest. He could ask you to marry him right then and there, and you’d accept immediately. You’re so done for, you think to yourself, rolling your eyes as you watch him slide his backpack on, wearing his usual cap and sunglasses.

You sing in the car, and he teases you when the song “Sexting” comes on, taking you back to the time you got drunk and sent it to him. You were embarrassed at first, blushing and hiding your face away, before owning it and deciding that it was unintentional sure, but a badass move nevertheless.

The ride to the airport goes fast, and you hold hands while you walk through LAX. You’re less skittish than before about public displays of affection, thinking that if the world must find out about your relationship, so be it. You’ve lost so much time before because of your insecurities, you’ve promised to yourself that you wouldn’t let anything get in the way from now on. Ben registers his bags, and you arrive at the security gates when he turns over and holds you tightly in his arms. You hug him back, feeling like your heart is getting crushed with a hammer, struggling with yourself not to cry.

“It’s four months”, you say against his chest, “We can do this”. He nods and cups your face with both hands, staring into your eyes.

“I’ll call you as soon as I land?” he asks, looking uncertain.

“Yes, please” you reply, oddly out of breath. You stare into his deep obsidian eyes, your hands resting at his hips, and he leans in to kiss you. You close your eyes, surrendering to the soft feelings of his lips moving against yours, silently wishing for time to stand still.

“All right, I have to go” he whispers against your lips, and you smile, nodding.

“I love you” you breathe, looking back into his eyes, and he grins, making your heart drop in your chest. How is it possible for a person to be that beautiful? This should be illegal, you think to yourself, frowning.

“I love you too, sweetheart” he replies, and he kisses you one more time before he lets go of you, squeezes your hand, and turns over to go through the gates.

You stand there for a few minutes, your heart pounding hard in your chest, the sounds of the airport muffled around you before you find the strength to go home.

III.

“You wanna do what?” Rebecca asks, looking puzzled.

“I’ve been in touch with actresses in London for a few weeks now, and I think that I should go meet them to try and win them over” you explain, straightening your back against your chair.

You’ve asked for a meeting with your boss this morning, eager to submit your plan to her. You’ve been thinking about it for a while, but you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t accept the fact that Ben’s departure for London had been the incentive.

Although your agency is always looking for new talent, and you’re currently managing some of the hottest British talents in Hollywood, you know that they’d trust your judgement.

“Which actresses?” Rebecca asks, narrowing her eyes.

“Michaela Coel and Daisy Edgar Jones” you reply without breaking eye contact.

Rebecca arches her eyebrows, seeming impressed, before she purses her lips and turns a bit to glance out of the window.

“Honey, you know that you’re one of our most successful agents” she starts, and you brace yourself, knowing that a “but” is imminent.

“But I couldn’t help but notice that you seemed distracted lately” she adds, looking back at you.

You look away, crossing your legs, feeling uneasy. Yes. You can’t deny that.

“I know, I’m sorry” you reply honestly, knowing that lying wouldn’t take you anywhere.

“You know that I try and pay no mind to gossip” Rebecca says, the ghost of a smile dancing on her lips “But I couldn’t help but notice that ever since you dropped the Barnes account, you’ve been a little… elsewhere”, and she looks into your eyes, a kind expression on her face. You try not to blush, a warm feeling spreading over your chest, and you decide not to reply anything.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled for you” she says, still smiling “And Andrew was more than happy to take over as his agent.” You nod, not knowing where this is going.

Rebecca takes a breath and straightens her back before she leans against her desk, joining her hands.

“You were working too much before, anyway” she says, “But I’m wondering if taking new actors would be the right fit for you right now”.

“Oh.” You reply, taken aback. “I see.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d never say no to new clients, especially the ones you’ve approached. Promising, promising new talent, these two.” She says pensively, looking away.

“I know that I’ve been distracted lately” you start, wanting to be sincere “But I’m genuinely excited to meet them, and I know that I’d be the right fit for them”.

Rebecca glances back at you: “Are you sure? You already have a lot on your plate” she replies, seeming skeptical.

“Perhaps I just need fresh accounts” you venture, “Something new and exciting”.

She stares at you for a moment, searching your expression.

“You know what” she starts “Go to London, try and broach them, and if you succeed, we’ll find a way to make this work” she proposes.

“Deal” you say, offering her your hand, and she shakes it.

“You’re going to London” she says gleefully.

“I’m going to London” you reply, smiling widely.

IV.

Ben was more than thrilled when you announced that you’d meet him in a month, impressed by your scheme. He told you that it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for him, and you had blushed and put your face in your hands, shaking your head.

“You don’t think that it’s stalky or creepy?” you had asked, watering your plants while you were talking to him on the phone.

“I mean, it totally is” Ben had laughed “But if it means that I get to see you, I don’t care” he added, and you hummed in agreement, distracted by the fact that you’d soon be in his arms, where you seemed to belong now.

December went fast, and you were glad that Ben was his family to celebrate Christmas. You’d fly two days before New Years Eve, and you’d meet Michaela on January second, and Daisy the next day. You’d spend a total of seven days with Ben, and you couldn’t wait.

You arrive Sunday morning in London, feeling tired and jetlagged, but seeing Ben’s face at the arrival gates fills you with more joy than you have ever experienced before. He joins you in quick strides and grips you tight, exhaling loudly and snaking his arms around your waist; raising you in the air like he had done months ago, before you had admitted your feelings to each other. You throw your arms around his neck and kiss him passionately, you heart threatening to jump out of your chest.

“God, I’ve missed you” he says against your lips, putting you back gently on the ground, his hands moving from your hips to your face.

“Tell me about it” you reply, out of breath, staring into his beautiful eyes.

“Ready to explore the city?” he asks, smiling widely. “Or do you want to go back to my place and get some sleep?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

You think for a split second, blushing a bit “I mean… We’ll have time to chill later” you reply, “Let’s do some sightseeing” and you smile widely.

“Are you sure?” he asks, and he puts a strand of your hair behind your ear, looking down at you tenderly.

“I’m up for anything as long as I’m with you” you say, shrugging, and you know that the answer is beyond cheesy, but you’re unable to restrain yourself. He chuckles and gently pokes your nose with his, and you distinctively feel butterflies swarming in your stomach.

“First, an English breakfast” he says, and you wince, dreading the British food “Then, let’s be tourists” he says, and he kisses you gently. You sigh, melting under his touch. He’s worth enduring British food, for sure.

Ben takes you to the Naval Royal College in Greenwich, wanting to show you the Painted Hall. It’s known as the British Sistine Chapel, and he plays the tourist guide again, like he had done in Venice. You hold hands throughout the whole visit, stealing kisses and being amazed at his extensive knowledge of art history.

“Did you research all this to impress me again?” you ask, teasing him. Ben rolls his eyes, smiling.

“Of course, I did, what’d you expect?” he replies, kissing your cheek, and you giggle, endeared.

He shows you the Millennium Bridge, asking if you want to go inside St Paul’s cathedral, but you’re starting to feel a bit tired from all the walking and the flight.

“All right, one more place I want to show you, and then you’ll take a nap” he suggests, and you nod, reaching for his hand to hold. You walk for fifteen minutes when you reach a pretty street, and you enter what seems to be a park with a church in it. You frown, perplexed, when you finally see why he’d want to take you there. The church is in ruins, vegetation growing everywhere. It looks beautiful and romantic, and you understand why Ben wanted you to see it so badly. You walk among the ruins, gasping at the shady trees and the quietness of the place. It doesn’t seem like you’re in the heart of the busy city, the place looks magical with the sun setting in the distance.

“Oh, this is so pretty” you whisper, and Ben takes you to a bench for you to sit. He throws an arm around your shoulder, and he places a kiss on your temple.

“This place reminds me of you” he says quietly, and you look at him, surprised.

“How so?” you ask. He seems to ponder for a while before he replies.

“It makes me feel safe, quiet, like nothing else exists.” And his voice is soft, making your stomach clench. You blush, feeling overwhelmed. What did you do to deserve him again? This is crazy, you think to yourself, looking away, feeling crushed with too many emotions.

“What is it?” he asks, still gazing at you.

“I’m just tired” you reply, and you put your head on his shoulder, breathing deeply and closing your eyes.

“What’s our plan for New Year’s?” you ask, opening your eyes. Ben has teased you before that he had a plan but wanted to surprise you. You feel him chuckle and look up at him.

“I was thinking… It might be time for you to meet my parents” he says easily, and your heart stops in your chest. You look at him, your breath shallow, and Ben laughs at your expression, seeming satisfied with himself.

“It’ll be alright, Love” he says, caressing your hair. “I promise.”

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

Heyyyy heyyyyy!!!! Look who’s updating after two months ?? It’s meeee.

Hope you like this part, it’s just pure fluff. I want them to be happy and to explore the next step of their relationship.

Tell me your thoughts and feelings about this ? It might inspire me to write part 11 !!

Byeee <3

Tag list

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#ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes imagine #ben barnes fanfiction #my fics #adventures in success #fanfic

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jj-babebank · 3 years

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Camp Willowdale / JJ Maybank AU / PART 8

Synopsis: Camp Willowdale is buzzing with new campers. It’s Caroline Windsor’s first year as a camp counsellor after attending the camp as a camper for ten years. Little does she know that this year Willowdale Lake is going to be a little different from what she is used to it being…

Warnings: future chapters may include curse words, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sexual activities, mentions of death.

Pairings: JJ Maybank x fem OC Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4; Part 5 ; Part 6 ; Part 7

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 8 –

49 days of summer camp left

Caroline sat in her bed, hugging her knees against her chest. Her and JJ had the afternoon off and despite his attempts to lure her into hanging out, and her infatuation with the boy, she’d turned him down, wanting to spend a few hours alone with herself to compose her thoughts. It had been exactly two weeks since the night Madison disappeared. No one had bothered to mess with the campers since then, the bonfire area hadn’t been touched and no dead animals were found in anyone’s suitcase. To the rest of the camp, this seemed like victory; to Caroline – it seemed like the calm before the storm.

During their first day at Camp Willowdale, all of the counselors had been given a Willowdale-branded set of items they’d have to use during their stay. It came with the obvious STAFF t-shirts, sweaters and hats, but it also consisted of other things – such as the thermoses Caroline and JJ were still using to sneak whiskey into their daily routines, and notebooks in which they were advised to plan out their group’s daily schedules. Caroline however had been using her notebook for other purposes. She’d become so obsessed with Madison’s case, that every little thing that happened on camp grounds and seemed even a little out of the ordinary, immediately became a clue to her, which she’d hastily scribble down in her notebook. It had only been two weeks since the disappearance of Madison Hague and Caroline had already filled about a quarter of the pages of her hefty notebook with potential clues and leads. She kept rereading her notes, trying to think of something – anything – that they could do to help them solve the mystery, however nothing was coming to her. Ever since the dress incident, Caroline and her friends hadn’t found anything else that could relate to Madison, though Caroline was glad that none of them had given up on their mission.

Caroline was so deep in her own thoughts, she nearly jumped at the sound of a sudden knock on the door. She quickly closed her notebook and tucked it under her mattress and went to open the door, revealing a panting JJ leaning on the doorframe.

“Hey, C,” he breathed.

“JJ, what’re you doing here? I told you I -”

JJ cut her off by pushing past her and walking into her cabin, “Yeah, yeah, you wanna be alone, I know,” he sat on her bed, taking his snapback off, “but I was thinking… you’ve been so busy with the kids and with the whole Madison thing, and believe me – I really appreciate you for being like that, but -”

Caroline crossed her arms, “Where are you going with this?”

JJ sighed, “You’ve just totally forgotten how to have fun, C,” he said, “The primary reason that we all came here was to have fun and look at you – you barely eat, or sleep, or do anything other than your counselor duties and this whole Madison investigation thing…” JJ sighed again, looking at the hat in his lap and playing with its adjustable strap, “All I’m saying, C, is what if Madison really did go home and you’ve just wasted all this energy on nothing…Thing is,” JJ looked up into her eyes, “I miss you, the old you, and I know that that you’s still somewhere in there, it’s just this whole Madison thing blocking it.” he placed the hat back on his head and stood up, walking towards Caroline, “Hang out with me now,” he said, stopping directly in front of her and lifting her chin up so that she was facing him, “And I promise we’ll think about Madison later,”

Caroline couldn’t really process what was going on. JJ was touching her and standing in such an intimate distance from her, that she could basically feel his breath on her face. For a second she forgot all about Madison, and the dead owl, and the bonfire area. All she could think about was JJ Maybank, who had just told her that he misses her and wants to “hang out with her”. Caroline stood there, lost in thought. What if he was right? What if Madison really did go home and that dress never even belonged to her? What if it was Jenna Kinley’s all along and Sarah had just gotten the perfume wrong? What if JJ really did miss her because he liked her as more than a friend? No, no, that couldn’t be it. But what if –

“Um, Carrie?” JJ’s voice suddenly broke her out of her trans, “So d’you wanna do something together or -”

“Yes!” she said, a little too excitedly for her own taste, of course I’d like to hang out with you, JJ, she thought, “What do you want to do?”

JJ’s face immediately lit up at her words, “Well I was thinking perhaps a picnic?”

Caroline raised an eyebrow, “Don’t picnics require food? We don’t have access to anything unless it’s mealtime,”

“Yeah, but we do have whiskey,” JJ winked with a mischievous look on his face, walking towards the storage room of the girls’ cabin where they still had a few bottles of alcohol left.

Caroline rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless – this was going to finally be her first date with JJ Maybank. Well, sort of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The afternoon sun was low in the sky, casting a beautiful orange reflection onto the peaceful water of lake Willowdale. Caroline and JJ had taken a seat on the lakefront, drinking their whiskeys and admiring the sunset, reminiscing the days when they were kids again.

“D’you remember that one summer when Rafe Cameron got food poisoning and ended up barfing on stage at the Will-all-hail banquet?” JJ laughed at the memory.

Caroline frowned, thinking about it, “Beats having Rafe Cameron as your counselor by a mile,”

JJ turned to look at her, eyebrows raised, “Rafe was a counselor here?” his tone almost sounding amused.

Caroline nodded, “Oh yeah,” she smirked, “For the same reason as Sarah – too stuck up for his own good so their dad shipped him over here as a punishment,”

JJ snorted, “I mean that family is pretty far up their own ass,”

“They have a sister too,” said Caroline, “I haven’t seen her around here though, so we at least know that one of them must be doing something right,”

The pair laughed at the thought of their spoiled friend and her older brother.

“Man, I missed this place,” said JJ suddenly, leaning back on his elbows.

His tone sounded different as he looked at the horizon and Caroline could sense that something wasn’t right, “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask -”

“Parents got divorced,” JJ quickly explained, “And unfortunately for me, my dad got custody,” he sighed, “Somehow my mom was deemed ‘incapable’ of taking care of me because she couldn’t financially afford to. Load of bullshit, if you ask me,”

“But my mom -”

“Yeah, they still talk,” said JJ, knowing what Caroline was about to say, “I still see my mom every other weekend, you know, it’s not the end of the world,” he smiled at Caroline reassuringly, “It’s just living with my old man meant working for my cut at home, which also meant summer jobs back in Kildare,”

“So that’s where you’ve been all this time…” whispered Caroline, mostly to herself, however JJ heard her.

“Yeah,” he responded, “Now that I’m old enough to be a counselor here and actually get paid for coming to summer camp I thought why not? Besides, your mom did tip mine off that you’d be here too,” he winked at Caroline, making her blush.

“Yeah, about that,” she said apologetically, “My mom likes to yap a lot, I wouldn’t take most of what she says seriously,”

“Well you are here, aren’t you?” said JJ, his face slightly leaning in towards Caroline’s.

Holy shit, this was it. Caroline was about to kiss JJ Maybank after a decade of fawning over him. Shit, shit, shit, she hadn’t really kissed anyone since that idiot from her class planted one on her at prom. What if she was a bad kisser? What if she’d forgotten how to kiss? As JJ closed his eyes and leaned even closer, Caroline decided to push the doubtful thoughts to the side as she closed her eyes too, leaning in towards him too. Their faces were inches apart, hearts pounding in their chests and, just as their lips were finally about to meet –

“There you are!” Sarah’s loud voice came from the hill behind them, startling them and making them both jump and immediately pull apart and straighten up. John B stumbled after her.

Caroline coughed awkwardly, trying to cover up the shame and embarrassment she was currently feeling, “Sarah… what are you doing here?”

With a knowing smirk on her face, Sarah put both hands on her hips, “Nothing,” she sing-sang, obviously finding the whole situation hilarious, “I’m sure it can wait,” she winked down at Caroline, while John B was waving around frantically behind Sarah at JJ, mouthing the words “DID YOU BONE?!” quite obviously.

JJ groaned as he stood up, helping Caroline up as well, “We’re all yours now, Sarah, what’s up?”

“Well me and John B had the afternoon free as well, so we went out front to his van and you’ll never believe what was taped to the door,”

“Wait, why’d you go to his van in the first place?”

Sarah rolled her eyes, “That’s beside the point now, Carrie, look” she shoved a piece of paper in the girl’s hands.

As Caroline unfolded the paper, the group gathered around her to look at what was written on it - 41° 56’ 54.3732” N, 87° 39’ 19.2024” W.

“I have no idea what that means though,” confessed Sarah.

“Looks like coordinates to me,” said JJ.

“Hey, that’s what I said!” gasped John B, “But Sarah didn’t want to believe me,”

“Does anyone know how to read geographical coordinates?” JJ looked at his friends.

“Do I look like Google Maps to you?” asked Sarah.

“You’re right,” Caroline said as an idea sparked in her mind, “We can’t read coordinates, but I know someone who can,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

“I’m just saying, Miss P,” JJ spoke confidently once the group was inside Pricilla’s office, “Now’s about the best time to host the traditional yearly treasure hunt,”

Pricilla squinted up at JJ through her pink glasses from where she was sat at her desk, “Keep talking, Maybank,”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit odd that it’s already been two weeks and none of these kids can read a compass yet?” continued JJ, earning a slow nod from the camp director, “Think about it, Miss P – Willowdale ain’t Willowdale without its treasure hunt,”

As JJ spoke, the rest of the group were silently praying behind him that his charismatic way with manipulating will work on Pricilla, giving them an excuse to ask her to decipher the mysterious coordinates they had gotten their hands onto. The old lady leaned back in her old leather chair and looked at JJ skeptically for a while, adding to the already built up tension.

“Give me a few days to map out the course and set up the coordinates,” she finally spoke, causing everyone in the group to silently cheer behind JJ. As they thanked her and turned to leave, she spoke up again, “Oh, and Maybank,” she called, everyone turning to look at her, “No funny business,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Finally some normal camp activities. Thank you for reading so far, I would greatly appreciate you letting me know what you think about the story and the characters xxx

tags: @k-k0129 ; @hayleyy-l ; @marvellover04 ; @dumbasscorn ; @thrown-off-her-rhythm

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realcube · 3 years

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everything i love about you // kei tsukishima

tsukishima’s has to write a journal for his english class - so he writes about you because he is a simp.

tw// (she/her) reader, cussing, too much fluff- ?

↳Thursday, October 1st 2020

This is my journal for English class. I will be writing about my girlfriend - (Y/N) (L/N) throughout the day. I’ve chosen her opposed to a friend or a family member because she is very interesting, unlike most of my friends who are just annoying - whilst my family are plain boring. If you can’t already tell, this journal will be written in whatever tone I desire, which is sarcastic 99% of the time.

Well, to begin on a high note, one of the reasons I love like my girlfriend - (Y/N) (L/N) - is because she is tolerant/patient.

For example, this morning she waited an extra 3 minutes for me to arrive at the bus stop - where we usually meet to walk to school together - as I was running a few minutes late due to a ‘bad hair day’. This displays patience.

Also, her friends are some of the most annoying, god-awful people I’ve ever met yet she still hangs out with them. That shows how tolerant she is of their bullshit - it’s honestly quite impressive to see someone throw away every last bit of their dignity just to spend more time with the people that are tearing them down. This could be considered stupidity but I’ll call it tolerance for now because I was told to start this journal with the positives.

↳Friday, October 2nd 2020

“The English language is one the most stupid ones out there.” - that was a factual opinion.

I’m finding it challenging to write this journal with the assistance of google translate and a whole years worth of English notes. It’s a hard language, anyone would agree with me on that. So imagine what sort of genius you’d have to be in order to know the language fluently?

Well, what if I told you that (L/N) can speak English with little to no errors? As well as Japanese! It’s insane, honestly. Which brings me onto my second point, she’s extremely intelligent; another reason I love her. Well, she’s an intelligent dumbass - and I know that’s an oxymoron but let me explain.

Again, she can speak English fluently so if she had taken it as a subject, she’d definitely be the top of the class. She is also passing all her classes with straight As. However, she is still very dumb; throw-back to that one time she mixed up Chernobyl and Auschwitz.

It’s perfect - just the right amount of intelligence that I don’t have to baby her but humble, so she’s not cocky about it. And just the right amount of idiot that she still makes me laugh..sometimes.

↳Saturday, October 3rd 2020

This next point kinda ties in with the last one but she is very confident and is able to take a joke which is something that - I personally believe - is crucial to have in a significant other.

I am aware of the fact that I am not always the nicest, most optimistic person to be around; but she has thick skin and knows that whenever I call her a ‘dumbass’, I either mean it as a joke or as a term of endearment.

Also, anyone would find it quite annoying if their special someone always was seeking attention, validation and compliments. I mean, every once and while it is completely fine but if your whole self-esteem is based off of whatever people think of you and you need constant reassurance in every single thing you do - I personally - would find that a bit annoying. As I mentioned before, I am your lover, not your babysitter.

So, that’s another reason I love like her; and as Abraham Lincoln once said, ‘what’s sexier than confidence?”

Source: https//:pornhub.com

↳Sunday, October 4th 2020

She is so hot.

Now, please, don’t get wrong; I hate the objectification of women and physical appearance isn’t everything as they all deserve to be treated equally and with respect.

But I am looking respectfully 👀

Actually, perhaps ‘hot’ wasn’t the best choice of words as there are so many different phrases/words in the English language that would be more fitting to describe not only (Y/N)’s physical appearance but how she acts. Words such as: gorgeous, classy, alluring, angelic, elegant, divine, stunning, captivating, radiant, tempting, adorable, ravishing and most accurately, beautiful.

She’s modest about it too. Understandably, she prefers compliments on her character rather than her look because she says, ‘People that compliment me on shallow things like my appearance are either toxic, wanna get with me or they are just naïve.’

However, I do believe that she dislikes those sorts of compliments because she simply doesn’t need them - she knows she is beautiful and so does everyone around her, I mean, it’s kinda hard to ignore.

Like seriously? Who could miss those enchanting (e/c) eyes of hers? Or her shapely figure that would make any person ‘act up’? And have I yet to mention her pristine lips that lift to make that charming smile of hers?

Okay, well, you see the point. (L/N) = very sexy, inside and out. I am done complimenting her for today. I need to go lie down.

↳Monday, 5th October 2020

The last day of the week. Well, according to my professor, anyway.

This is the part where I tell you the 5th and final thing that I love like about (Y/N). And honestly, I can’t decide between the following; so I’ll just roll a D20 and let that choose for me:

1. She is very funny

2. She is an amazing cook

3. Her singing voice gives me goose-bumps

4. She is so gentle towards animals, it’s precious

5. She is so talented

6. She is very supportive of everything I do

7. She makes an effort in our relationship and to understand the things that I enjoy eg. volleyball, paleontology

8. She’s is a good communicator

9. She’s loyal

10. She doesn’t get feisty or petty during arguments, we keep it classy

11. Her passion for the things and the people she loves is so attractive

12. She is one of the most diligent, hard-working people I’ve ever met

13. She just generally has this sort of charm about her, that’s why she gets on so well with people

14. She’s honest

15. I would trust her with my life

16. I know that she’d be there for me when I need her because she always has been

17. Explain how there is no one real reason I love her, it’s just that everything she does comes together and forms..her! She’s so special and unique, there is no way I’d be able to pin it down to one key feature.

18. She’s human

19. I envy her

20. Roll again.

I rolled a 20.

Then I got a 17.

I know I probably seem like a love-sick sucker for writing all of this about my girlfriend but I can assure that even if she was just my friend, I’d still write this journal about her because she is the most interesting and extortionary person I’ve ever met. I can also assure you that if you ever meet her yourself, you’d be writing novels about her for a minute of her time.

To me, she’s perfection. And I’d rather die than say that aloud so that it partly the reason I am writing this for her. It is easier for me to express what I feel through this journal than it ever would be to say this stuff out loud, especially to her.

I like love her.

good job, Tsukishima! A very sweet journal and your vocabulary is quite impressive. I'm sure your girlfriend will adore this haha. What I will say though is that perhaps you could try use less contractions and real words - by this I mean that 'kinda' and 'sorta' are not real words in the english laguage so you should try and avoid those. Another than that, superb work!

#no it is not ooc #he is a simp #he won't admit it tho #obvs #tsukishima #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima kei #kei tsukishima #tsukishima oneshot #tsukishima headcanons #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyu #hq tsukishima

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

A new us will begin (12/ ?)

AO3

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 13

word count: ~10k

content warnings: panic attack (caused by crowds), vague references to past character death, references to blood and injury

Three coppers.

Lark picked up the coins someone had tossed him from the cobblestones. Or maybe they had just dropped them accidentally and didn’t care enough to pick them back up. He wouldn’t be surprised, but he wasn’t about to complain. Coin was coin and the gods knew he needed it.

Three coppers.

They weighed barely anything and yet they sat heavy on his palm. Heavy and dull and not enough.

Just a couple of years ago, people had loved when he sung in the streets. They had been the one calling him the Lark of White Orchard and back then, they had been happy to toss him enough coins for his songs that he was able to get by, not exactly living a good life, but he had been doing fine all things considered. On days where coin had been sparse, when it had rained or Lark’s stomach had growled so loudly that even the passers-by could hear it over his singing, there had always been a kind elderly woman who missed her son enough, or a man who had always wanted a little brother, that they were willing to take in the starving eight-year-old that lived in the streets for a couple of days.

It hadn’t been good, but it had been good enough.

But pity had dwindled when Lark had gotten older. He had been prepared for that. Adults were expected to earn their own coin by doing more than just sing all day. He had known and he had tried making plans for how he might ask around if anyone needed a stable hand or help on a farm.

It hadn’t been a bad plan and it might have worked, if Lark hadn’t been dead wrong about one thing: People stopped being charitable long before he had reached adulthood and no one was stupid enough to hire a boy who was practically still a child and wouldn’t be able to do any sort of heavy lifting or other physical labour.

He had thought, he’d have at least another ten years to figure out how to get by, but life had given him only half of that before it had thrown him aside to fend for himself. Five years had been enough that he had gone from an adorable and somewhat beloved child who sang pretty songs and smiled brightly to a thirteen-year-old with cheekbones that prodded forth unbecomingly from lack of food and with a voice that was cracking just enough to ruin his songs.

People didn’t call him Lark anymore. Mostly, they didn’t refer to him at all, insignificant as he was to them. If they did however, they would mutter to themselves about the pest of the streets. They avoided eye contact and hastened past him before he could even open his mouth to ask for a little pity or sing for his supper. One time, a pretty handheld mirror had fallen out of a nice looking woman’s bag and Lark had picked it up to give it back to her. He didn’t have more time than it took to catch a glimpse at his sunken blue eyes in the mirror, before she had called him a thief, a magpie, and had yelled at him loudly enough that other people had come out to see what all the fuss was about. Lark had fled before they could decide that it was time to get rid of the boy who no one cared about anyway.

Still, he had to come back to his corner of the street to sing the next day and the day after that, until another year had passed. It was all he could do to earn coin, however little it was these days, and it was all he could do not to succumb to the desperation and hunger gnawing at him like a dog gnawed on bones.

While he sung, he could close his eyes and pretend he was somewhere else, someone else. He could dream that he was a viscount, rich and never lacking food or shelter. Or he could pretend that he was still a small child with chubby cheeks, singing lullabies with his mother. He could imagine what it would be like to make a friend that was more important to him than anything in the world and sing to them or that he had someone who’d teach him a song for once.

Most often, he let himself indulge in the most beautiful fantasy of them all: That he could be a bard, celebrated and always welcome. Then, inn keepers would be happy to accommodate him instead of bark at him to get out of their inns. People would ask him to sing for them, instead of throwing him dirty looks when his singing interrupted their conversations. They would throw flowers and coins at his feet and he’d never have to go hungry again. People would smile at him. They would notice him and maybe if he were lucky, he could be important to someone. He could have someone who would take him in their arms, press a kiss on the crown of his head and tell him that they wanted him to stay with them forever. He wouldn’t have to worry about being alone, starving and cold from being outside for so long.

Not like he would today. His fist clenched around the three copper pieces and he shoved them in his pockets. Maybe if he was lucky, he’d get more tomorrow.

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. By now, he should have known better than to get his hopes up about such things, but the small sliver of cruel hope never truly left him, even if he rarely ever got what he was hoping for.

But while coin was sparse, he did find out the reason why he had earned even less than normal: There was bigger and better entertainment coming to White Orchard. Lark watched from the shadows of an alley, as a woman with a hint of wrinkles around her eyes and faint streaks of grey weaving through her flaming red hair, hung up a poster announcing that a troupe of travelling actors was going to perform their best known plays in the weeks to come.

Lark’s stomach clenched, and not only from the hunger that was his constant and only companion. Dread and bitter disappointment grabbed his heart like an iron fist. No one was going to waste any time or coin on some boy singing pitifully when they could watch an actual play, done by professionals who were better at what they were doing than Lark ever could be. No matter how much of his soul he put in his signing, he was no competition to the players that had arrived.

His hands began to tremble as he clenched them into his stomach. It the near certainty that he would go hungry for however long those players would stay here.

It was a mixture of spite and curiosity that drove Lark to follow the redhead, always staying in the shadows or doing his best to blend in with other people milling about. If he wasn’t going to make any coin with his singing, then at least he should get to see the players perform and suss out if they were really good enough to warrant him being tossed to the side like that. He knew they would be. He wasn’t nearly good or important enough to think otherwise.

The red-haired woman led him to a marketplace, where a colourful wagon stood and a stage was being set up. Lark lingered there until the evening came and a crowd started to form.

He joined in the line of people buying tickets, his bitterness and fear making way for excitement with every moment he waited. He had never watched a play before, never been part of a crowd of people who just enjoyed themselves. His fingers fiddled with the hem of his shirt and he shifted from one foot to the other as his excitement built up, already imaging the wonders he was about to see.

He knew he shouldn’t spend his three coppers for something so trivial, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around. Just this once he wanted to feel like someone normal, someone who could allow themselves an evening of fun and togetherness, even if he’d always know in the back of his mind, that he would pay dearly for his carelessness the next day when he’d have no coin left at all.

Still, he was sure it would be worth it. He knew it with all his heart.

His excitement was snuffed out like a candle in the wind, when he got closer to the woman selling the tickets and he heard how much they would cost.

One silver.

Lark’s heart dropped and his hand clenched around the three he was holding as the bitter realisation swept over him.

It wasn’t enough. He would get turned away and even this small moment of reprieve would be taken away from him.

Without thinking, Lark left the line, melting back into the shadow of the houses lining the marketplace and watching the woman selling the tickets with hawk’s eyes.

His heart was hammering in his chest and he knew even thinking about sneaking in without paying the entrance fee was wrong. It wasn’t fair to the performers – he of all people should know how important it was to pay entertainers - but he had to watch the play. He didn’t know why, but in this moment, it was more important than anything else.

A bigger group of people - a family with five children that he had seen pass by him and scoffing at him far too often – was permitted entrance and before Lark could think twice about what he was doing or start having doubts, he joined the group, pointedly casually, as if he belonged to them. It wasn’t hard to blend in. The parents were too distracted by the prospect of watching the play to count their children and Lark was small and frail enough to disappear between them and pretend to be one of them.

His blood was rushing in his ears and his mind was whirling with the panicked thought of They’re going to know. They will notice you and kick you out or throw you to the city guards for not paying the fee.

But nobody paid him any mind. Getting in unnoticed was as easy as it was wrong.

Once inside, Lark released a shaky breath and became one with the crowd, moving through it was if it was the most natural thing in the world.

A rush of excitement and pride swept over him and made him giddy, almost overshadowing the excitement he felt for the play.

When the red-haired actress finally came on stage, Lark’s breath caught in his throat and his heart began racing. His eyes were glued to the stage, unable to look away for even a second. This was it!

There was something about the story the actors played that spoke to him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but as he watched the play, enraptured by the fast-paced fighting choreographies and the touching lines of dialogue that he felt he would be able to speak in time with the players if he had been able to open his mouth, he felt as if he belonged. There was something about the players, how easily they moved between scenes.

If one character was having a hard time, it was a near-certainty that they would make it out and find better times.

A strange sense of kinship and admiration welled up inside Lark, especially fir the pirate; charming, confident and criminal. Not caring about what anyone else thought of him and not needing anyone else’s help. Lark’s heart jumped in his throat as he watched the pirate weave his way in and out of danger like it was nothing, taking what he needed without having to feel bad for it. This pirate had no place in the world, so he made his own. The world was his home. That’s what he said and for him, saying made it so.

A yearning burst to life in Lark’s chest, his heart fluttering like a bird desperate to escape its cage. Lark had been in a cage his entire life. He sang and stayed in the same town, dwindling with every passing day until one day his wings would be too tired to fly.

But by the gods, he wanted to fly. He wanted to get out of here, wanted to build his own life, wanted to be free of the dependency on strangers’ goodwill and generosity that he knew he couldn’t count on anyway.

He wanted to be like that pirate.

He knew the story or the characters put on stage weren’t real, that he shouldn’t take life lessons from them, but for just a moment, he let himself believe that it could be real. It was that moment, that brief and fleeting second in which he dreamed about what his life could be, that changed the course of his destiny. He didn’t know how, yet, but he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that when the performance would end, he would be a different person.

The longer he watched, the stronger his certainty got. He watched the pirate with starry eyes, though something felt a little off about him. The actor portraying him wasn’t bad. In fact, when they pulled out their sword and spun around, making their long dark hair whip around their face, Lark couldn’t help but think that they knew exactly what they were doing. The fighting was impressive and the acting compelling, but there was this deep-rooted certainty in Lark that he would have been able to do it better.

And so he did.

That is, he didn’t join the troupe to become a better actor, naturally, neither did he become a better pirate – he lived nowhere near enough to the sea for that - but what he did instead was close enough. It started out small, just a little pickpocketing during the performance, while the audience was distracted.

Every coin he grabbed out of a purse with swift fingers, made his heartbeat spike up, but it also filled him with a never before known sense of pride. He was finally taking his life in his own hands! No longer would he rely on others to get by or have to endure their scoffs and insults.

With every coin he stole, he broke a bar of that cage entrapping him. He was going to fly like he had always been meant to do!

The play was not quite over yet, when he set his eyes on the wagon containing the props.

It was risky and probably not worth it, but Lark was filled with a euphoric recklessness. Quick as a flash, he darted into the wagon that was thankfully unoccupied at the moment and grabbed the first thing he could find. It was a prop dagger. Not the most valuable thing, but it felt right in Lark’s hand. A reminder for the day he decided to live. A promise that his life would be better than it had been until this point. A vow to never give up on his dreams.

His fingers tightened around the hilt and a grin spread across his lips.

Like a shadow, he left the marketplace, not knowing what the pirate’s fate would be. It didn’t matter, because for the first time, Lark’s own life was full of possibilities.

Maybe that woman had been right by calling him a thief. Perhaps he was a magpie, filling his pockets with other people’s possessions. Or maybe he was a lark that had been kept in a cage, going unheard for far too long until his voice was broken and his wings nearly clipped.

Either way, he was a bird ready to spread his wings and finally fly.

That night, he packed his meagre belongings, bought enough food to last him a couple of days and left White Orchard. His life was about to begin.

Leaving the town to be on his own was not as glamorous as Lark had imagined in his moment of foolish grandeur.

The next town was three day’s travel away for a strong man who was able to walk for a prolonged time. A boy with barely enough strength to carry his bag and walk for a mere couple of hours, would take much longer.

During the first two days, Lark learned what it meant to be outside a city’s safety. He had always thought that sleeping on the ground beneath bridges or in stables when innkeepers were kind enough to let him stay there for a night or two, was hard, but it was nothing compared to sleeping on the edge of the woods, never knowing whether the snapping of a twig came from bandits or a monster that would see him as easy prey.

Had he been a bard or a poet, he would have called it ironic that the first person he met after he decided to lead a life of lawlessness, was a bandit. As it was, he didn’t have the mind to find such words. He was terrified.

A rustling of leaves was all the warning Lark got, before a shadow leaped at him from behind a tree, giving him just enough time to let out a surprised yip and clutch the strap of his bag to his chest as if that could protect him. Before he knew what was happening, the hooded figure pressed their knife against his throat and bared their teeth.

“Your money,” the female voice hissed in his ear, pressing the blade closer to his throat. Lark blinked. She didn’t sound any older than him, certainly not like an adult or anyone Lark would have expected to attack travellers. “Give it to me and I’ll let you leave with your life.”

Lark didn’t know what possessed him, but he let out a barking laugh. “Really? Do I look like I have a anything of value? You flatter me.”

The girl’s eyes darted over his body, lingering on the shirt that hadn’t been washed in years and that was littered with holes.

She wavered, clearly not knowing how to proceed.

Lark cocked his head to the side. “You’re new to this, aren’t you?”

Even as the words left his lips, he knew they were about the stupidest thing he could say, but something about the girl didn’t sit right with him. Maybe it was the way she clutched the weapon a little too tightly or the way she looked just as bony and lost as Lark did.

The girl’s eyes flared up. “What’s it to you? I can still cut your throat.”

“I’d rather you wouldn’t do that.” He gave her a crooked smile and prayed that he was right about this. “And I don’t think you want to either.”

“Oh no? I wouldn’t be so sure that I wouldn’t hurt you if I were you.” Her voice went up in pitch and there was something in her eyes that didn’t sit right with Lark. A haunted look flashed through her eyes and the hand holding the knife trembled.

Carefully, Lark lifted his own hand and enclosed the girl’s wrist, gently. “Are you alright?”

“What kind of question is that? I’m threatening your life! You should be afraid of me!”

Her voice broke with the last word and something cracked in Lark’s chest.

“I’m not,” he said, though he had the distinct feeling that he very much should be afraid of people pointing weapons at him. Tentatively, he let go of her wrist again and held his hands up. “I don’t think you’ll hurt me and I’m not going to hurt you either.”

For a heartbeat she just stared at him, emotions battling in her face and Lark began to doubt he had made the right decision. If he had messed this up, then he hoped he would at least live to regret it.

Her eyes narrowed. Then, ever so slowly, she pulled the knife away, her hands falling to her sides and her shoulders slumping as if she had all energy had been drained from her. A puppet whose strings had been cut.

“Go,” she said quietly.

Lark hesitated. He was absolutely going to regret this. “How about we go together?”

She stiffened. “I’m not coming with you. I’m dangerous.”

“To me you look more scared than dangerous.” He gave her a tiny smile. “We don’t have to travel together, if you don’t want, but I’ve never had a friend before and I’ve never camped out in the woods on my own. I could really use someone who knows what they’re doing.”

She drew her brows together, but let out a wet laugh. “I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

“Perfect!” Lark’s hesitant smile turned into a beam. “Two clueless people are better than one. And like this, neither of us has to be embarrassed about not knowing how to do things.”

“You’re strange,” the girl said, but after another moment of hesitation, she nodded. “Fine. We can stay together. Just until morning. Then we go our separate ways.” Her face became hard, though somehow to Lark it looked like a poorly constructed mask. “And you won’t tell anyone you saw me.”

“I promise,” Lark said, his heart speeding up. A couple of hours wasn’t enough to form a friendship, he was sure, and yet this was the closest he had come to having a friend ever since he had been forced out on the streets and he was going to make the most of it. “Just until tomorrow.”

“I thought you didn’t know how to set up camp,” the girl said, pointing an accusatory finger at Lark and squinting her eyes suspiciously.

By now, she had pulled back her hood, revealing a face that made her appear a couple of years younger than Lark and blond hair that looked as if it had been hastily cut by someone who hadn’t known what they were doing. Not that Lark had much room to judge. But there was something about that haircut that almost stirred a memory in him. For some reason, a strange thought shot through his mind. He should have really asked me before chopping her hair short.

He shook his head to get rid of that nonsensical thought. Who even was he supposed to be? And he was pretty sure he had never met this girl in his life, so there was no reason why anyone should have asked him to help with her hair.

“I don’t.” Lark shrugged with pointed nonchalance, but his own skin crawled with unease as he let his eyes glide over the shelter he had somehow build out of branches without knowing what he was doing, as if he had done this a hundred times before to a point that his body just knew what to do without him thinking about it. “I swear I’ve never even been outside White Orchard.”

The girl narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, but then she mirrored Lark’s shrug. “I’m not complaining.” With a strained smile, she added quietly, “There are worse things to find out about your companion.”

Her tone made Lark shift with unease, but he nudged her in the ribs playfully, praying he wasn’t overstepping. “I absolutely agree. I could still find out that you’re snoring loudly.”

“Hey!” A twinkle entered the girl’s eyes. “Who says you’re not the one who will snore?”

Lark lifted his chin in defiance and spread his arms wide, not unlike he had seen one of the actors do. “I say so. Because I’ve been told that I have the most beautiful singing voice.” The most preposterous exaggeration he had ever made. “Everyone knows people who sing don’t snore.”

The girl snorted. “Sure. That’s definitely common knowledge and absolutely true.” The sarcasm was dripping from her voice and made Lark grin.

“How about a bet? I say you’ll be the one who will snore.”

Her lips twitched up. “You’re on.”

It was still too early to go to sleep just yet. Lark’s hands were constantly moving with nervousness, tapping out rhythms or twirling smaller sticks he tore off bushes.

He really didn’t want to mess this up. When he had decided to take his life in his own hand, the thought that he might not have to stay alone all the time, hadn’t even crossed his mind, and yet, as soon as this girl had shown even the smallest hint of interest in spending time with him, he had latched onto the hope of not being alone. He had wanted to be like that pirate, confident and independent, but even the pirate in the play had wanted friendship, hadn’t he? That had been the last piece of the play that Lark had caught before he had left the marketplace: The pirate begging the knight to be his friend.

Lark knew it was stupid, but already his mind was conjuring up images of having a travel companion, of sitting around a campfire laughing together or walking next to a horse, while his companion kept glancing down at him fondly.

It was an impossible fantasy, of course. But it was nice to let himself dream. It had been a dream, after all, that had gotten him the courage to get out of that miserable life he had been leading.

“What’s that song?”

He blinked, when the girl’s unexpected question interrupted his stray thoughts.

“Hm?” he asked intelligently.

“That song you’re humming,” she explained, gesturing vaguely at him. “It’s nice.”

“Oh.” Lark felt heat rise in his cheeks. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t notice I was singing.”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” she said hastily. “I really liked it. It’s been a while since anyone’s sung to me. My mother used to sing me lullabies, before – Nevermind. Your singing just reminded me of that.” She paused, her eyes going wide. “Not that you were singing to me. But. It sounded beautiful.”

Lark’s chest glowed and he couldn’t keep his smile off his chest, despite the no doubt heavy topic that the girl clearly didn’t want to talk about. “Thank you. I love singing, but most people don’t appreciate it. One time someone even threw some bread at me.”

The girl’s lips twitched. “That’s one way to get to food.”

“I sure thought about just singing as badly as I could, after that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It didn’t work out.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I like listening to you.”

Lark lowered his head, carefully avoiding eye contact. “It’s worth a lot, actually.” He cleared his throat. “But speaking of food. I still got some. It was supposed to last me until I get to the next town, but we could share if you want?”

“I – really?” The girl’s eyes widened. “You barely know me. I held a bloody knife at your throat! Why would you share your food with me?”

Lark shrugged. “I guess I would like to get to know you. Maybe we could become friends?”

He knew he sounded pathetically desperate and he told himself his heart didn’t sink, when the girl shook her head.

“We can’t. I’m not good company.”

“Yes you are.” His smile turned lopsided. “At least that’s what I choose to believe until I find out if your snoring will rob me of my beauty sleep.”

She snorted. “We wouldn’t want that. Clearly you need it.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, tore out a handful of grass and attempted to throw it at her. She only laughed and in return tossed some leaves at him, equally unsuccessfully.

They continued this strange but not uncomfortable back and forth. Lark wasn’t sure how to talk to her, but it still felt good to have someone to talk to for once, even if she avoided speaking about herself to a point that she even refused to give as much as her name.

It didn’t matter. Lark didn’t know his real name either, after all, only the moniker he had been given by some strangers.

He felt an unexpected kinship to this girl with no name that had chosen to steal the coin she evidently needed but that had given up on that plan as soon as she had found something else she needed far more desperately. Company. The comfort of knowing she wasn’t alone.

Lark and the girl might have both needed to grow up to soon and were willing to steal if that was what kept them alive, but now, sitting on the forest floor, sharing bread and tentative stories, it became painfully obvious that they really just were children. Children who weren’t allowed to be such.

When they went to sleep beneath the shelter Lark had built, he made sure to keep enough distance between them, but the girl smiled at him as she whispered a “Goodnight.”

He returned it with a trembling voice. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had bid him goodnight.

“Our bet still stands, right?” The girl said with a sleepy grin, just before her eyelids dropped.

“It sure does. But we both know I’m going to win.”

Neither of them won. They both snored, waking each other up more than once.

Somehow neither of them minded, but when they got up in the morning, they both complained loudly about the other’s snoring, their teasing ending in laughter. It was possibly the first time in years since Lark truly laughed and judging from the way the girl brightened and seemed to carry herself lighter afterwards, it had been a long time since she had had reason to laugh too.

“So…” Lark said, after they had eaten a small breakfast, emptying nearly all of his provisions. “I guess it’s tomorrow, huh? We’ll split now.”

“Yeah,” the girl agreed, but made no move to turn away. “I guess so.”

They stood there for a moment in awkward silence, both avoiding the other’s eyes.

“Unless you want to –“ She said at the same time that Lark spoke up.

“If we went the same direction, we could –“

They gave each other shy looks that turned into grins. Neither of them finished their sentence, but they didn’t need to anyway. After they packed their few belongings, they took the same path, neither mentioning that they were going to stay together for a little while longer.

It didn't take long for Lark's stomach to start rumbling. He had learned to ignore hunger enough to go through the motions of what needed to be done, years ago, but after indulging the day before and this morning with breakfast, his body seemed to remember that it did, in fact, need food and shouldn't go ignored.

The only problem was that there was little to no food left. Rationally, he knew that he shouldn't have shared his provisions, but he had been so excited about having something to share for once, and even more importantly, having someone to share things with. When it came down to it, he wouldn't do it any differently if he got the chance to do it again.

Still Lark’s stomach protested and he fisted his hand in his shirt and pressed against his stomach, hoping it would distract him from the gnawing hunger.

It didn't work.

Next to him, the girl grew more agitated as well, throwing worried glances at him every time his stomach spoke up, even though she must be hungry as well.

Eventually, she tugged at his sleeves, making him stop.

"What's wrong?" he asked alarmed and half-turning to see if he had been too distracted to miss a monster or an actual bandit approaching.

"Nothing." she bit her lip, averting her eyes. "I just...Wait here. I'll be back."

Lark's brows furrowed. "What? Where are you going?"

His pulse spiked up, sudden fear seizing him. He didn't want to be alone again. He knew he couldn't call this girl he barely knew his friend, but he had hoped she would stay a little while longer.

"I'm going to get us some food."

His racing heart slowed down a little. "Oh. Good. I can come with -"

"No!" she cut him off so harshly that Lark nearly flinched back. "Don't follow me. I promise I'll be back. If you promise that you stay here."

Lark nodded dumbly and watched her disappear between the trees until he could neither see nor hear her anymore.

He waited for what felt like forever, tapping his foot nervously and humming a line of a lullaby to calm himself, always repeating in his mind that she had promised to come back, despite how it seemed she had just left him in the woods.

When he finally heard branches snap, he perked up, half expecting having to run away and half giddy with anticipation. He held his breath when the branches blocking his view were pushed to the side –

- and revealed the girl.

Involuntarily, he broke into a grin.

"I almost thought you had gotten lost," he said in greeting which she answered with an eye roll.

"Oh please, if one of us is going to get lost, it's going to be you, city boy."

Lark snorted. "You didn't think I was so useless out here when I made sure we wouldn't sleep without shelter yesterday," he teased.

"Well, I'm the one who knows how to hunt." She lifted her hand, drawing Lark's attention to the bloody rabbit he held in it.

His brows shot up. "How did you-"

"My mother taught me," she said in a strange tone that made it clear she wasn’t about to say any more about that.

Lark knew, it was rude to keep asking, but his curiosity won out.

"She was a hunter?"

An unreadable smile flickered across her face. "Something like that."

"Well," Lark said, putting as much cheer in his voice as he could, finally catching the hint that this was going to lead nowhere, "I'm glad she taught you. It's always nice having a companion who can hunt for food."

She hesitated, then her smile turned soft. "It's also nice to have a companion who sings."

After that, Lark made a point of singing for her, especially whenever she would come back from hunting looking tense and strangely nervous.

He knew it wasn't much he was giving her in return for the food, but his singing never failed to make her smile.

"You really are a nightingale," she said when he finished his song.

He grinned at her. "Not quite. I prefer Lark, actually. That's my name. In case you were wondering."

She titled her head to the side and assessed him. He didn't know what she was looking for but she must have found it, for she returned his smile.

"I'm Desanka."

She offered him her hand, a bit redundantly and far too formal or mature for either of them, but Lark took it eagerly, excitement bubbling up in him.

"So... Does that mean we're friends now?" he tried not to sound too hopeful, but failed miserably.

"I guess it does."

Lark never thought he'd be able to miss the suffocating narrowness of alleyways or the feeling of being trapped that city walls provided, but after only a couple of days making his way through the woods, he longed to feel something other than dirt and twigs beneath his feet. Uneven cobblestones weren't exactly a delight, but at this point he would have preferred anything to the tiny rocks that kept getting stuck in his shoes or the twigs that would snap in his face when Desanka brushed them aside carelessly - or perhaps she let them hit him fully consciously. Judging from the way her shoulders shook with laughter every time Lark cursed when he got hit, made him think the latter was true. He vowed to return the favour the next opportunity he got.

For now though, he kept complaining about the woods in any way he could.

So it was no wonder that when the trees finally parted and they stepped out of their shadows, Lark felt like he was escaping anew. Camping in the woods hadn't been half bad - in fact, it had felt strangely familiar in a way he couldn't explain - but he was ready to try and get enough coin together to afford sleeping in an actual bed for once.

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back to enjoy the rays of the sun warming his face and hummed a happy little melody.

He didn't exactly expect praise for the silly little tune he composed on the spot, but he hoped to at least find Desanka smiling at him when he opened his eyes again.

Instead, he found her twisting her hands together in agitation, her eyes darting between the city in the not so far distance and the trees behind them.

When their eyes met, she startled, but caught herself quickly, squaring her shoulders.

"I don’t think going there is a good idea," she said with a look that was more confident than her voice would have you believe. "We should stay away from cities."

Lark's brows shot up. "Why? Isn't this where we wanted to go this whole time?"

"I don't know. Yes?" She shifted her weight. "But now that we're here, I think we should just stay away."

"But... When we met you literally tried to steal my non-existent coin. What were you going to do with that if you didn't plan on going into town?"

"I don't know." She sounded more frustrated with every word. "It's not like I planned to run away from home."

Lark became quiet, studying her with knitted brows. His face softened and gently, he took one of her trembling hands in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"You didn't?"

"No. I had to go." Her lip started quivering. "I never wanted to leave. But I don't think I can go back. Not just to my town," she added when Lark opened his mouth to speak. "But towns in general. I should stay away from people."

"You didn't stay away from me," Lark said gently.

She snorted. "I sure tried but you wouldn't stop trying to talk me into staying." A shaky grin stretched her lips. "And you were stupid enough not to be afraid of me pointing a knife at you, so I guess you'd not be afraid of - I guess you're safe to be around. It was nice having a friend."

Lark gave her hand a tiny squeeze which she returned shyly. He hesitated.

"You make it sound as if we're not friends anymore."

She winced. "I'm not going back to where people are. I can't. I won't."

She sounded determined, yet Lark couldn’t help but latch onto the fact that she had neither confirmed nor denied what he had said. The small flicker of hope in his chest was all he had, but maybe it was enough. Dreaming a little had never hurt anyone.

"I understand," he said slowly. "But we still need to buy some things. Not that I don't appreciate the rabbits you’re hunting, but we need more food. Better equipment too, if we want to make it out there."

Her head snapped up. "If we... You would stay with me in the wild?” Her wonder turned into an incredulous frown. “Are you stupid?"

He gave her a crooked grin. "I think we already agreed that I am." his tone became more serious. "But yes. Of course I want to stay with you. You're my friend."

"But I wont-"

"You don't have to," Lark reassured her. "I'll go into town alone, get everything we need and go straight back to you."

"What about sleeping in a real bed? You complained about the forest floor for days."

"I also complained about your snoring, but you weren't worried about that. It's alright. It’s just like when you go hunting, right? I promise to come back to you, if you promise to wait for me."

After a second in which she only stared at him dumbfounded, she nodded. Before he could pull away, she tugged him closer and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug that Lark returned just as fiercely.

The town was big, bright and loud. After days in the wilderness and the excitement to get back to civilisation, Lark should have been happy to be here, but in actuality it was disorienting and overwhelming.

He made sure to stick too smaller alleys and places that weren’t bustling with noise. The problem with that was that there was nothing to be gained from that. Sooner or later, he’d have to go to where more people were. The little coin he had with him – his own and Desanka’s – wouldn’t be enough to buy half of the supplies they needed. He had to get more.

For a brief moment, he thought about singing again. His heart yearned to do it, but reality had been cruel and unforgiving. He was well aware that looking like he did, he could earn no more than a handful of coppers at the most, and that wouldn’t be enough and it would take him forever to get any coin at all like that.

Desanka was waiting for him. She was counting on him to come back with enough provisions that they wouldn’t have to worry too much about when they had to go back into town the next time.

Taking a deep breath, Lark steeled himself, before leaving the shadows and entering the marketplace. Immediately, the noise and colours hit him like a ship crashing into a cliff.

A small part of him told him that he should love this, should thrive in a place like this. The feeling that he belonged with people, that this should feel like coming home, grew with every second. But home had never been a good place for him and the only person he had ever felt true belonging with was his new friend.

A friend he needed to take care of now.

His heart was racing, but he made a point of looking as casual and harmless as he could. It wasn’t hard slipping his hand into other people’s pockets and transferring their coins to his own pockets. People kept bumping into him all on their own and didn’t care to even look at him.

Ugly guilt rose in him, but he had little choice in what he was doing. He did it to survive and for the girl waiting for him in the woods. A girl who had never wanted to be on her own but who was too scared to meet other people. A girl who was Lark’s first and only friend. He might not have known her for long, but he would protect her and make sure she was cared for as good as he could. If that meant swallowing his guilt and the unreasonable panic that dragged him under in this crowd, then so be it.

The first thing he bought in this new life he now led, was food that wouldn’t go bad any time soon, two cheap bedrolls and soap.

That should have been enough. He should take it and head out of there as fast as he could.

And yet he lingered, despite the unease making his hackles stand on end.

Right next to the stall with the soap, there was a display of toys, dolls and wooden animals. Before the stall, a bunch of children were gathered, some tugging at their parents’ sleeves, some trying out the toys or looking at them with shining eyes.

A strange longing drew Lark nearer. The only times he had ever had toys to play with, had been when he had been allowed to stay with a family for a couple of days, but as soon as he had become too much and he had to go back on the streets, he had been left with nothing.

That must be the reason why he was now looking at the toys with that strange sensation of needing to be there prickling at the back of his mind. And yet, he got the feeling that there was something else about this. He let his eyes sweep over the toys, ignoring the strange looks he got from the adults and searching for…he knew not what.

At least he hadn’t known, until he found it. His whole body jolted, when his eyes fell on the wooden wolf figure standing at the edge of the stall. The wood was light, nearly white and it jogged something in his memory that he couldn’t explain. He had never seen a wolf in his life – thank the gods for that! – but something told him unmistakably that he needed to have his white wolf.

Subconsciously, his hand went to the pocket in which he carried his coin. Even without looking at the price, he could tell he wouldn’t be able to afford the figure.

It didn’t matter. He shouldn’t waste coin on something trivial like this anyway. And yet his feet wouldn’t move. His whole body was frozen to the spot, all of his thoughts focussing on the white wolf.

“Mama,” a little girl next to him piped up, “I want that one! The wolf!”

Lark’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t think about what he was doing. He couldn’t. In a flash, his hand shot out, grabbing the figure with little subtlety or finesse. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that this was foolish, that he should put the figure back, that he was risking everything for a strange whim he couldn’t even explain.

“Boy!” The gruff voice of the vendor made his head snap back up. “I hope you can pay for that.”

Lark stiffened. “I- Well, I – “

The vendor’s eyes narrowed. He rounded his stall and came closer to Lark, towering above him even from a few feet apart.

Lark’s heart jumped to his throat and without meaning to, he took a step back.

The man’s face contorted to a grimace of disgust and fury.

“Pay for that or I’ll make you pay,” he snarled. When Lark didn’t reply, he took a menacing step closer. “Give it back and get the hell away, you filthy thief! We don’t want your kind here!”

We don’t want your kind here. We don’t want your kind here. We don’t want your kind here.

The sentence kept repeating in his mind, growing louder and louder until it roared like thunder in his head. He snapped his head around, looking for sympathy he knew he wouldn’t find.

The man was still a couple of steps away, but his shouting had attracted the attention of others. Some were turning away, leaving the scene with distrust in their eyes, but most of them turned towards Lark with disdain on their faces.

There were so many of them and they were coming closer, threatening and crushing him. The suffocating guilt and blinding panic turned into a searing pain in his stomach. He pressed his hand against it, almost expecting it to come away bloody despite no one having so much as touched him.

But they would. If he stayed here, they would hurt him. They would shout and throw rocks and get their pitchforks and they would kill him. He needed to get away! He needed –

Without hesitating a second longer, he turned and bolted. The angry shouts of the vendor and his thundering steps followed him, but Lark was running for his life, nothing on his mind but the need to get away.

He pushed through the crowd, skittered around corners, darted through streets, not even stopping to throw a look over his shoulder to see if he was still being followed. All he knew was that if he stopped, if he let himself get caught, he would die. He didn’t want to die! He didn’t want to be alone. He had to get back to his friend!

His breath came in pants. In his hand, he clutched the wolf so tightly that his knuckles turned white, as if the wolf could protect him.

He didn’t slow, until he passed the city gates and entered the protective shadow of the woods.

With a racing heart and burning lungs, he slumped against a tree. In his trembling hand, he held the wolf figure that had nearly cost him everything.

And yet, for some reason, he couldn’t find it in him to regret stealing it. He knew he shouldn’t have. It had been reckless and wrong, but having the wolf with him now soothed an ache in his chest he hadn’t been aware he had carried with him before. But why? What was so important about the wolf that he had been willing to risk his life and his freedom for it? Nothing could possibly be worth so much. Least of all some wolf.

He stayed like that, slumped over, trying to find reason to what he had done, until his heartbeat had calmed. He still was none the wiser. The urge that had overtaken his body at the sight of the white wolf was gone, having left him with no explanation for his actions.

It was only when a light drizzle started to fall from the sky that Lark found the strength to go further into the woods to where he had left Desanka. He rubbed his hands over his face, not sure if he was getting rid of the rain or if somehow unbeknownst to him tears had mixed with it.

It didn’t matter. He shouldn’t think about the panic that had seized him when those people had crowded him. He shouldn’t lose his mind trying to find reason for what he had done in an unthinking moment. Who was to say there even was a reason?

If there was, he shouldn’t care. He had gotten away with it and come tomorrow, they would leave this area to search for a better place to stay a while. For now, all that mattered was that he was safe and so was Desanka.

He found her sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree. Her head snapped up to him when he got closer, though Lark was sure he hadn’t made a sound she could have heard. Worry faded into relief on her face when she saw him and she sprang to her feet almost immediately.

“You’re alright!” In an uncharacteristically enthusiastic and affectionate manner, she ran towards Lark and threw her arms around him.

The way she held him tightly made Lark wonder if she had expected him to change his mind and not come back. He returned the hug with equal fervour.

“Of course I’m alright,” he lied, patting her head. When she didn’t reply, he pulled back a little. “I even got something for you.”

Her brows rose, but Lark was more surprised by his own words than she could have been. He hadn’t stolen the wolf for her. Everything in him screamed to keep the figure close, to not be parted from his wolf, but with a smile, he held it up for her.

Desanka’s eager eyes turned apprehensive when they darted from the figure to him. If Lark hadn’t known any better, he would have said she looked almost scared.

“Why would you give this to me?” She asked in a thick voice, something close to an accusation tinging her tone.

Lark’s fingers closed around the wolf instinctively and he drew back a little. “I-I’m sorry?” he stammered, unsure what exactly he was apologising for. “I just thought you might like it. We… don’t friends give each other gifts?”

Desanka’s throat bobbed nervously. “I… yes, I think they do.”

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.” Lark’s free hand rubbed the back of his neck. “You just looked worried and I thought the wolf could be a protector for you? For when I’m away in town, I mean.”

A strange smile tilted the corners of her mouth upwards when she slowly reached out to take the figure. Lark already missed the weight of it in his hand, but his chest felt lighter when Desanka ran a finger over the smooth wood and her face brightened.

When she looked back up, her eyes were unexpectedly glassy.

“Thank you, Lark,” she said with a quivering voice. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Having seldom received gifts himself and having seen how desperate Desanka had been for a friend, Lark thought that he had a pretty good idea what the simple gift meant for her.

It was about as important to her, as her smile was to Lark when she later put the wolf figure between both of their bedrolls that night so it could watch over them both.

Lark still lay awake staring at the figure when Desanka had already fallen into a deep sleep. The wolf was right there. If he wanted to, he could just reach out and touch it. Yet somehow, the feeling that he needed to find his white wolf lingered.

Life was… it was hard to tell what it was. It wasn’t great exactly. Lark still didn’t have a roof over his head most nights and sometimes, when hunger gnawed at him and Desanka, he felt like he had never left the streets, despite months having passed since he had last been in that town he had called his home.

But it wasn’t bad either. Though Desanka refused to teach him how to hunt, she was able to find them something to eat on most days. If Lark was being honest with himself, he wouldn’t have wanted to know how to hunt anyway. The idea of using a knife to actually hurt a living being made his skin crawl and besides, with every time Desanka proved that she could provide for them and Lark praised her for it, she seemed to relax more and more until she was barely recognizable anymore as the girl who had tried to scare Lark away by saying she wasn’t good company and who was afraid that he would leave her without second thought.

Lark still went into towns, whenever he needed too. As much as he hated the shouting and shoving of crowds, it was a necessity. Meat and the few edible plants they found in the woods wouldn’t keep them alive.

Though it still sent a twinge of guilt through him, Lark continued picking pockets. He tried to stick to stealing from people he saw sneering at those they thought below them or vendors who raised their prices when they saw that the hungry costumers had no other choice but to buy from them.

Occasionally, though, when Lark was feeling especially brave or foolish, he still sang on street corners.

It was no surprise that no one paid him any mind. With his ragged clothes, the dirt smeared on his skin and his unkempt hair, he knew he wasn’t someone people wanted to listen to, even though months and years passed and the broken voice of the thirteen-year-old turned into the soft singing voice of a young man who put all of his passion and emotions into his songs.

He knew he was good. He – he hoped he was. Maybe he could have been in another life. A life in which he had been able to afford clothes that didn’t make people sneer at his appearance and stride past without giving him a chance to prove himself worthy of being listened to. In this other life – the one he still sometimes dreamed about, waking or not - he might have even become a real bard. He held onto this thought that should only belong to the dead of night, when he dreamed he were someone else, someone people welcomed in their midst, someone who could put his feelings into song and change the world with it.

But when he woke, the world would be the same as it always had been and so would Lark.

Still, with a yearning he didn’t understand, he looked at instruments in shop windows that were too expensive to buy and too noticeable to steal, even though his fingers itched to run over the smooth wood of a lute and pluck at its strings.

Just looking at the instruments or listening to real bards play them, made his heart clench and his fingers flex, as if mimicking the motions needed to elicit music from a lute.

It was a dream he knew he would never reach. Still, he sang, poured his whole heart into his songs, even though it gained him little more than an occasional coin flung his way, but even the people who granted him that much, didn’t stop to listen to him. He was invisible. Unimportant. A shadow not worth stopping for.

Lark tried to let the dirty looks and snide remarks he received slide off him, but it didn’t take long for Desanka to figure out just how much it hurt Lark that people reacted to his singing this badly.

In comfort, she carded her fingers through his hair while he sang to her. She let him talk about how he had the hint of a melody at the back of his mind that he wasn’t able to get to leave his mouth. Sometimes, she even tried to harmonise with him, though her voice was rough, reminding him more of barking at times, and broke when she sang to high or low.

Still it was better than anything Lark had had in years.

Desanka never left the woods. Even during the winter, she insisted on staying as far away from other people as she could. Lark knew that no matter how many gifts he recklessly got for her – small trinkets, unnecessarily fluffy pillows, a pasty that she had mentioned her father used to make for her – she wouldn’t be able to give him anything the like back. Lark didn’t expect her to, nor did he want her to go to places that she felt unsafe in just to get him gifts.

She didn’t need to do that, anyway. She was giving him something far more precious than any trinket or treat.

She listened to him. She saw him. She got to know him and still decided that he was worth liking.

Lark knew that objectively, his life wasn’t great. But he couldn’t bring himself to think that it was bad either.

The thing he knew for certain was, that it was unexpected.

He wasn’t like the pirate he had dreamed of becoming. Neither was he anywhere close to being that charming, nor did he possess the easy confidence that character had had.

But there was one thing that made Lark like the pirate he had admired: He had taken his life in his own hand and more than that, he had found the one thing the pirate had longed for. He had found a friend that he was willing to risk his life for.

#sorry I completely forgot to post this chapter here #reincarnation au #geraskier #jaskier #fic #fanfic #multichapter #my writing #witcher #the witcher #witcher fic #geraltxjaskier

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peaches-writes · 3 years

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bibingka

skz of christmas day 6: rice cakes with changbin

member: changbin wc: 1.9k genre: fluff, comedy, slight idiots to lovers au, neighbour au, this is actually a binsung fic jk warning: explicit language note: obligatory ben&ben christmas post duh + connects to the jisung entry + issa bit rushed just bc ive been busy da whole week im so sorry hnnnnnnng

day 3

Even with Changbin’s deadliest glare almost burning holes on his face and a stomach cramp threatening to explode on his lower half, Jisung wouldn’t stop laughing. In fact, other passersby are starting to momentarily look their way because of his cackles echoing as loud as the church bells tolling for the next mass.

“I fucking hate you.” The boy being ridiculed rolls his eyes and punches the younger boy on the arm. “Shut up.”

“I just—“ Jisung seemingly wipes away a tear in between his non-stop giggles, clutching his stomach again after as he slows his breathing down. “You’re such a—you’re such a wimp and it’s like the third year now!”

Changbin wants to correct him by saying that it’s only the second but ultimately decides against it to avoid feeding the mocking laughter. “I’m not! I was just trying to be respectful!”

“Seo Changbin, you’ve been neighbors with Y/N since who the fuck knows how long. If anything, not holding their hand during the Lord’s Prayer is actually rude and disrespectful.” Jisung scoffs. “Like look, I scored a date with my neighbor yesterday and they’re only here during the holidays. Where’s your progress?”

The last comment deepens Changbin’s glare and disapproving frown. “Well, what if—what if they didn’t want to? Not everyone likes holding non-family members’ hands during that prayer. And excuse you, you landed that date from stalking me.”

Jisung comically slaps his hand up to his temples this time, exhaling a very deep breath in amusement before shaking his head in disapproval. “Oh, Binnie, until when are you going to keep telling these things to yourself? Y/N literally had their hand up for you a while back! Just hold them for a minute!”

“Yeah, but—“

Before Changbin could fully refute, however, the two boys then see you pass by with your grandmother, a passing smile gracing your features as you wave at them politely with your free hand. “Good morning, you two!” You briefly greet before shifting your attention back to your grandmother again, your gaze lingering to Changbin for a second longer definitely not going unnoticed by a grinning Jisung.

“Good morning!” Changbin and Jisung return your sentiments, the latter then elbowing the older boy as soon as you turn away.

“I’m telling you,” Jisung whispers tauntingly after, leaning his face close to Changbin and placing a hand over his ear. “just hold Y/N’s hand. It’s not that hard.”

Taking one last look at you right before you’re whisked away to your grandmother’s friends, Changbin sighs and mumbles, “Oh no, Sung, you don’t know shit.”

day 5

Every time Changbin does so much as glance in Jisung’s general direction at the choir area in the middle of the service, the younger boy would wink suggestively or make the most comical kissy faces and it doesn’t help his case at all. Somewhere in the back of Changbin’s head, he hesitantly thanks whatever driving force there is in this universe that you’re mostly occupied with looking after your grandmother and passing the time with mindless gestures to notice.

“Just do it, man!” Jisung mouths to Changbin for what already seems to be the eighth time since the mass started, balancing his guitar on his lap to clasp his hands right in front of his face. “I got you!”

Changbin rolls his eyes before glancing over to you standing right next to him. To make things worse, the topic of holding your hand makes his attention wander over to the said body part that taps a noiseless beat on the pew in fromt of you. On your other side, your grandmother seems to have fallen asleep right after you made her sit down because of her weak knees.

Now would be the time, dumbass, The voice in Changbin’s head points out in a way that awfully resembles Jisung. Do it!

But when the familiar tune starts playing and your gentle tapping stops, Changbin’s quickly overcome with nervousness again.

The poor boy’s lifted knuckles knock against yours but fails to take your hand once more.

“Even Jesus can’t help this dude now.” Jisung sighs from across the church as he watches the helpless scene unfold. “Ah, whatever.”

day 8

“Dude, come on it’s been eight days. Stop staring the rice cake down, it’s going to burn up!” Jisung scolds, clutching Changbin by his nearest bicep and pulling him away from the rice cake stall. “Come on, let’s re-group somewhere else!”

“Re-group?” Changbin furrows his brows, letting himself get dragged to a nearby corner right underneath the outdoor display grotto anyway. “What for?”

Jisung, skidding to a halt once he’s reached a spot far away from the usual crowd of church-goers, rolls his eyes and faces Changbin belatedly as he answers, “Because you’ve been looking like a whole dumbass at church for the third year in a row now and I swear even the priest is starting to get frustrated!”

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do!”

Changbin squints his eyes in annoyance now and crosses his arms in front of his chest, visibly unamused at the younger boy’s antics. “I’m...a respectful person.”

“You’re a coward.” Jisung argues back bluntly with a draamatic and disapproving shake of his head, taking ahold of Changbin’s two hands after and holding them up in between them. “Just hold their hand like this, chant the Lord’s prayer, and be done with it! We’re all friends, it’s cool!”

Changbin scoffs, wriggling his fingers out of Jisung’s death grip only to get caught immediately. “You don’t understand, dude.” He sighs in exasperation, frowning even more in annoyance when Jisung makes a judging face at him with pursed lips. “It’s Y/N.”

“Exactly, it’s just Y/N.” Jisung retorts in a gradually patronizing tone, making sure to drag out his words. “It’s not like you’re obligated to get married if you hold their hand! Heck, even the kids who sit two rows behind you are braver and those two are just making gang signs at each other during Mass.”

“I—“

And, as if it’s the way of the universe siding wholeheartedly with Jisung, Changbin hears you stifle a giggle with your hand from behind him. When the flustered boy turns around, he sees you and your grandma approaching with candles to offer to the grotto’s statues.

“Shit.” Changbin curses under his breath, quickly hiding it with a greeting to you and your grandmother. “Good morning, Mrs. Y/L/N! Hi, Y/N!”

“Hi, grandma! Hi, H/N!” Jisung waves with his hands still intertwined with Changbin’s, making the latter blush even more as he quickly lets go. “Ooh, scented candles! Are you guys out here to pray for wishes?”

You nod with a hum, pursing your lips quickly at seeing Changbin pretend to wipe his hands down the sides of his jeans. “Yeah, just the usual year-ender stuff.” You explain, helping your grandma up to the stone steps leading to the religious status. Glancing over the two as your grandmother goes ahead on her own, you then ask, “Were you guys in the middle of...something?”

“W-What? N-No, no! We were just...” Mentally, Changbin’s cognition is already shutting down under your genuinely curious gaze. It doesn’t help that you’re a step above him and Jisung too, giving you a rare opportunity to tower over them. “Jisung was just being weird!”

“No, I wasn’t!”

“Dude, you just held my hand out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, to tell you that—mmfffff!” Changbin interrupte Jisung midway by clamping his mouth shut and making you chuckle.

“Okay, if you say so...” You finally let out a laugh with ease at seeing their antics, waving goodbye once more and taking another step upwards again. “I’ll just see you two around later! Grandma and I still need to say some prayers for our relatives.”

“Sure. See you around, Y/N.” Changbin smiles up at you, returning your wave with his free hand.

Behind his other hand, Jisung tries his best at yelling out to you, “Pray for Changbin, please! For everyone’s sake!”

day 9

The first thing Jisung notices—well, the second thing since he noticed your rather sleepy expression prior—is how you walk in and sit down next to Changbin at your usual pew without your grandmother. Changbin, on the other hand, notices rather belatedly when he notices you only when you’re already seated.

“Where’s grandma?” He asks, whipping his head around everywhere for your grandmother’s familiar grey hair and white church veil. “Is she okay?”

“She just stayed up too late for a Christmas party last night so I told her I’ll go to mass for her while she rests.” You nod reassuringly, only at such point fully comprehending the unfamiliar atmosphere of only the two of you sitting on your usual place. “She’ll be around again tomorrow but, you know, as far as the legend goes, she won’t be able to make a wish on Christmas Eve.”

Changbin chuckles at this, leaning back in his seat more comfortably now as you giggle along. “You still believe in that? We all know that parents only say that so we wouldn’t sleep at Mass when we were kids.”

When the boy glances over to you, he sees you nod in between laughs. “Yeah but don’t you think it’s something nice to think about and believe in? Don’t you make wishes after the ninth Mass anymore?”

“It depends.” He shrugs.

“Then why do you still go, hm? Your parents don’t even come around as often.”

To see you, Changbin’s mind immediately drifts off but he bites his tongue back quickly before he could accidentally blurt it out. “I just like hearing the choir sing in the morning.”

“I doubt that.” You chuckle with a shake of your head, just as the choir begins to sing the opening song. “Speaking of which...”

Changbin whips his head around in the same direction you avert your gaze to, finding the Mass already starting. “Oh, it’s starting.” He muses out loud, following the crowd and standing up. When he turns to you again, however, you’re still seated. “Aren’t you standing up?”

“Will you help me up?” You ask rather teasingly, holding your hand up to him.

“What?” His eyes widen, blinking twice slowly until he’s sure that your hands not moving back down to your side.

“Changbin, just hold my damn hand.” You hiss under the loud music, waving your hand in the air until he finally and reluctantly takes it and pulls you up. “There. Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Changbin is quick to blush under the bright lights around you, fumbling around his words and even more when you don’t let go of his hand. “I—y-ya, you’ve known all this time?”

In response, you simply shrug as you bring your hands down in between the two of you. “Maybe? Why do you think I’ve been making grandma sit here and not at the front as usual?” You explain sheepishly. “I was hoping, since we know each other and everything anyway, you’d...hold my hand at prayer. It’s silly, I know.”

“So you—”

“I like you, Changbin.” You beat him right to it, clearing your throat immediately to ease the atmosphere. “I just...hold my hand at prayer, will you? If it isn’t weird or anything.”

“S-Sure.” He awkwardly nods, looking away to hide an embarrassed smile. “I-I like you too.”

Across the room, Jisung almost jumps up in his seat while playing the guitar and elbows his significant other rather harshly as they play the piano. “Ya, dude, it’s happened! Look!”

The pianist hisses in pain at Jisung’s elbow on their sides before mustering up a chuckle once they’ve regained composure. “That’s good to see. Now, how many days will it take for him to buy the rice cake?”

december 22 (lee minho)

skz of christmas (masterlist)

m.list

@skzwriternet

51 notes · View notes

2018shawn · 4 years

Text

no rain, no flowers | th

a/n: hi I bashed this out this afternoon idk it just happened lmao pls don’t read if sadness will trigger you in any way and i would like to say my inbox is always open for anyone feeling any form of emotion 💓 o yeh, i also wrote this on my phone so there's like no capitalisation lmao don’t come for me

warnings: urm SADness, angsty, breakup shit y’no.

word count: 2.5k

it wasn’t that you didn’t love your life, you just didn’t love your relationship with it. you knew, more than most, that without the rain, the flowers wouldn’t grow. but the rain came more often than not, and it would leave you feeling completely and utterly drenched with exhaustion, emptiness and everything in between. the days where there was a drought and flowers were blossoming with new petals were the great days. the days where you could just see flowers sprouting were the nice days. the days where the rain pushed the flowers back into the ground were the bad days. the days where it poured that hard the soil overfilled, and mud dispersed everywhere were the worst days.

and now metaphorically speaking, soil was scattered all around your feet, the rain threatening to lift it higher and higher as each minute passed by. the water in the kettle bubbled on the stove top, the gas giving a sense of warmth to the cold kitchen you stood in. london was rainy, and so was your mood. you’d spent 4 weeks and 2 days without your significant other being by your side, and more than ever, you needed him back. it wasn’t a case of wanting him, this time, it was simply and purely a necessity. of course, you couldn’t tell him this. you couldn’t let on that you needed him to come home. you could wait, you guessed, the press tours could not.

what you didn’t know, is halfway across europe, tom sensed every inch of your emotion. he nibbled at the inside of his cheek between each interview, made sure to send you a snapchat when he could get to his phone, even ordered a bunch of flowers to be delivered mid week. how ironic, you thought.

you didn’t knock tom’s boyfriend efforts, in fact, it was the complete opposite. and the more the whistle from the kettle spout screamed louder in front of you, the more you could hear it screaming for you get out. leave him. you’re not worthy. you didn’t even smile when those stupid red roses arrived perfectly displayed on your doorstep. he needed someone that squealed with excitement, someone that saw the good, instead of the bad.

pouring your tea, you ignored the ping of messages coming through to your phone, sighing and flicking the small side switch to silent. you wanted to be in a silent room, with your silent thoughts and silent mind. the cup of tea warmed your hands as your palms encased the ridiculously large, speckled mug. tom had bought you it because he’d never met anyone who loved cups of tea more than him until he met you. you’d lit the long burner, the sound of wood crackling and flames roaring soothing you somewhat, filling the space inbetween your quiet thoughts as you took small sips of your warm beverage. a single tear trickled down your cheek, landing on the blanket covering your lap, and you wondered if you were even worthy of being sat in this house. you and tom had bought it together 8 months ago, when there were enough flowers to fill a football field. month after month, the flowers died off, because you didn’t feel like home should be somewhere you didn’t feel good enough.

the sun had vanished when you woke, the window only displaying a dark view of stars and the illuminated streetlight outside your house. your neck was stiff and arm dead from the position you’d ended up in, blanket kicked to the floor and log burner burning a deep shade of amber as it began to die out. just like you’d fallen asleep with a tear escaping your duct, you’d woken up with it too. your heart was dull, aching with emptiness as your eyes wandered around your painfully empty house.

you slumped into the kitchen, placing your mug down on the kitchen counter with a clink in order to swap it for your phone. you had the usual messages from your friends, who were used to your 3-5 business days responses because you simply had to mentally prepare yourself. alongside those, were a bunch of missed calls and messages from tom and your heart felt like it was being twisted with a knife as you scrolled down the words he’d sent you.

hey bubby, todays finally finished woooo 🤟🏽 interviewer asked about you and it made me miss you more than i already do

which is a lot btw 🥺🌍

i miss eating your hair mask in the night

and how crispy it looks when you wake up 🙈

i’ll be home before you know it. i love you all the days 💙

there were more, but these were the ones which made you feel extra fuzzy inside. and despite that soft feeling, you sighed, trudging upstairs and ending up in your dressing room. he didn’t deserve this. although you loved him more than words could say, you knew you didn’t show it, no way near as much as you should. tom begged to differ; he knew you struggled. he entered the relationship knowing your mental health was knocked, barely any signs of bricks becoming stable enough to rebuild.

you pulled open the wardrobe door before pulling up your stool in order to reach the top shelf. the top shelf is where you kept all suitcases and overnight bags and because of tom’s hectic schedule, it was a good job the wardrobe was the entire length of the room because you’d have no where else to put them otherwise. there was an already empty gap from his own case like there had been for around a month. you pulled yours down, almost knocking yourself out in the process, before laying it on the floor and zipping it open. in the middle of the case was leaflets and brochures from your last holiday with tom; a water park map guide and sea life show programme. you remembered how happy you were that holiday, how you knew you’d found the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

the leaflets and brochures were soon covered by a selection of your clothes, ones you knew were necessary to take with you. when satisfied you had packed everything you needed clothes wise, you headed to the en suite bathroom, taking a couple of travel cases with you with intention of filling them all. you began by sorting through your skincare, picking the most staple pieces of your collection and leaving the ones you knew tom secretly liked to pamper himself with on a sunday.

a beckoning from a familiar voice startled you, the sound of keys dropping on the side amongst suitcase wheels dragging along the floor following the calls of your name. what, why, when, and how was he home? he wasn’t due home for another 2 weeks and he’d literally just been texting you from another country. or so you thought.

“baby? your car’s here?” he shouted, almost asking himself the question in confusion. you heard footsteps padding up the stairs as you froze, holding your half full toiletry bag in one hand and hairbrush in the other.

“i... i’m in here.” you spoke, unsure if he’d actually heard you. he immediately knew something was off from the quiver in your voice and the level of your tone. he instantly followed your sound, finding himself running through the doorway of your shared dressing room. until he saw. until he saw your almost packed suitcase of pretty much all your belongings. until he saw you through the gap of the bathroom door, another travel bag in hand. until he saw the expression on your face, a vision he’d never be able to erase. “you’re back?”

“bub, what’s going on? are you going away or something? i didn’t think your work trip was until next weekend?” he was confused, darting past your open suitcase and creaking open the door of the bathroom a little further.

“uh... it’s not. i just...” he walked up to you, thumbs delicately landing on your cheeks where they wiped away recent pools of tears. it was enough to stop you from speaking, breath hitching in your throat.

“what’s going on? i’m worried? you haven’t texted all day.” if that was why he’d come home, that was more reason for you to leave, you thought. tom couldn’t have someone that needed baby sitting. he couldn’t be flying home from important shit just because you hadn’t replied. all of this piled on top of the balance scales more, the side of pros to your relationship being sky high and unable to go any further.

“i’m sorry...” you breathed, feeling tears prick at your eyes almost straight away. he pulled you in, hand resting on the back of your head and soothingly stroking your hair as you blubbed into his chest, no concern for the growing wet patch near his collar bone.

“sorry for what my darling?” he spoke into your hair, the scent of your weekly hair mask filling his senses, making him sure you must’ve applied it last night. it was coconuty and tropical and was every bit as lovely as he’d describe you to be.

you pushed his chest away, feeling a sense of betrayal as you returned to filling your toiletry bag. his eyebrows furrowed, watching you frantically fill the bag with whatever you could, no obvious concern whether you were picking up his tootherbrush or yours. all you knew is you needed to get out of there as soon as possible. “i just, need to go.”

“go where?!” he almost shouted, clearly concerned with your sudden announcement.

“i don’t know yet. i’ll figure it out.”

he was confused and speechless. you had everything together, you had each other. it’s 2 years and 2 months since he’d first laid eyes on you and he’s regretted nothing since. but you? he figured you regretted something. the suitcase and frantic attitude were the biggest giveaways. he was in denial. surely not. you were only speaking to him 2 days ago on the phone laughing and singing about wedding songs. he hadn’t proposed yet, but boy, did he have big plans to. “what are you saying?”

“i’m saying...” you started, growing sick of wiping tears away from your eyes. he was a human barracade, but you managed to sneak round him and out of the bathroom, zipping up the small cases and putting them into your main suitcase. “i need to leave. i can’t do this.”

and those words there, shattered him into a million pieces. he’d never felt anything like it, he thought. sure, he’d lost people before. but you? you were not just people; you were his world, his life, his future. he tried to start a sentence several times, failing miserably each time as his mind blocked him from processes any full thoughts. “what... what do you mean? this?”

he followed you around the room and you only moved quicker, not wanting to get too close to his deep but inviting aftershave. “this, tom. us. it’s not right. i’m not right, well, not for you anyway.”

“what the fuck, y/n? where has this come from! if i’m away too much, tell me. if i’ve said something, tell me. if i’m bad at....”

“fuck, tom. it’s not you. it’s me.” it was so cliche, but so true. he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from wizzing around the room like a bee collecting pollen. your eyes just stared at his hand, unable to look up and look him dead in the eye.

“talk to me, darling, what’s really going on?” his grasp wasn’t harsh, you could have got out of it if you wanted to, but he guessed from the way you didn’t, you wanted to open up to him more than you thought you did. “hey...” he almost whispered, using his other hand to place his fingers under your chin, guiding your heavy head upwards until your eyes clicked. he could see pain. you could see confusion. you could do nothing but sob dramatically and you hated yourself for it. you thought you would have run out of tears by now, but from the way your legs buckled beneath you and your body curled up on the floor, you figured they were only just beginning. tom spoke reassuring words, you thought anyway, arms wrapping tightly around your shaking frame as he joint you on the carpeted floor. he rested his back against the wardrobe, pulling you further into him with no intentions of letting go. “shhh.. just breathe. breathe for me.” his palm was stroking up and down your back, his other hand taking yours, circling patterns on your skin with his thumb.

“i... i just can’t, tom. i’m pathetic. you don’t need me. you need someone who can cope with you being away. you need someone who can actually get out of bed in the morning feeling like a half decent human being. someone who can make you laugh just like you make me. someone who has got their fucking shit together.” you stuttered, through broken tears and strings of coughs. he pulled your head up, using a hand either side of your face to support you.

“don’t you dare. don’t you dare tell me i don’t need you. i don’t want to hear those words ever again. i don’t want to hear you say you’re pathetic. y/n, you’re... you’re my life. and no you might not be a half decent human being, but you’re so much more than that. you’re everything i want our children to grow up and be. although maybe i’d like them to be able to cook steak without over cooking it.” you couldn’t help but smile through the pain, remembering how many times tom had asked for medium rare and you’d served him a severely well-done sirloin. “your shit is my shit. and i know you struggle, but you gotta speak to me, baby girl. you’ve got to.”

you sighed, leaning into his palm for comfort more than anything. “you... i... i don’t deserve you.”

he felt guilty. more than ever. he meant what he said, he really did know you struggled but over the years you’d got so much better at putting on a front, pretending the world was all full of flowers when really, it was full of rain. he kicked himself for not seeing signs, for being the one not good enough for you, for letting you down and putting his career first yet again. “you deserve a million times better than me.”

his hands were snapped away from you as you stood, brushing your clothes and sighing deeply. you returned to your case, zipping it up fully and standing it upright with the handle extended. he shot up, racing over and putting his hand on the handle to drag it away from you. “no... please. don’t do this. we can talk, you can shout, you can scream, i can listen.” you tried pulling the case, but his strength was much higher than yours. you didn’t want to talk. you knew he would be better without you. you knew you was a burden. you tried tugging again, only to fail missrably and turn to face his desperate feautures and teary eyes. “please stay?”

taglist: @imaginashawnns @fallinallincurls @mendesficsxbombay @cosmicholland

#tom holland #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #boyfriend!tom #tom holland oneshot

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marvels-writings · 4 years

Text

As Long As You Need (8)

Series Masterlist

Carol Danvers (Captain Marvel Masterlist)

A/N: Honestly I have no idea why I wrote this, just felt like it, also this chapter is for @livrnll, the song is ‘Without You’ by Oh Wonder

“I’ll only be gone for a week or so.” Carol murmured, you whined and leaned back into the couch with crossed arms.

This wasn’t the first time in your relationship Carol had to leave for more than a few days, but it wasn’t easy every time she left. You’d been together for almost two years now and you still weren’t used to the long missions.

“A week? That’s a little too long I have to spend without my Stargirl.” You whined, Carol chuckled and sat next to you.

The blonde wore her battle suit, underneath it she had a small necklace which you had given her after Tony had made sure the metal won’t melt when she used her powers.

“Come on, you’ll be fine, tell you what, when I come back we can do something together, maybe even with the rest of our family.” She suggested you sighed and nodded.

“You’re getting too good at bribing me.” You muttered, she laughed and got up to say her goodbyes to Brooke.

You still sat on the couch, smiling softly to yourself when you heard Brooke squeal in laughter when Carol tickled her and whined when she said she needed to go. The blonde came outside with a suppressed grin on her face, Brooke clinging on tightly to her leg.

“No, you can’t go, Auntie Carol,” She whined, your eyes widened when you recognized she called Carol her aunt.

Carol looked down at your niece in shock, you turned to face her, surprise on both of your faces.

“Did I say something wrong?” Your niece asked softly, scared as she hid behind Carol’s leg.

“Of course not,” Carol assured, lifting her and setting her down on her hip.

“Do you think of me as your aunt?” The blonde asked Brooke nodded eagerly.

“When you marry y/n you would be my aunt, right?” She asked, you almost choked on your spit as you saw Carol’s face turn a light pink.

“Ye-yeah,” She stuttered, grinning at the small child in her arms and whispering something in her ear.

“I’ll marry her when I get back,” She whispered, making sure you didn’t hear, before setting her down on the ground, letting her run over to you and snuggle into your side.

“I’ll just say goodbye to Carol, you stay right here.” You tickled her a little, treasuring her small giggles before you made your way outside where Carol was waiting.

“She didn’t know what she was saying,” You muttered, trying to make sure Carol didn’t get scared of commitment.

“I think she had a good idea,” Carol smirked, winking at you while she looked up at the stars.

“What did you say to her?” You asked curiously, she shrugged and turned to face you with a grin.

“That is between me and your niece.” She smirked and slid her arm around your waist, pulling you closer to her.

You sighed and leaned into her touch, treasuring the feeling of being with her as long as you could. Both of you knew she had to leave, but you were making the best of it. Carol sighed when her phone buzzed and you knew your time together was over.

“I’ll try to come back to you as soon as I can.” She assured, the blonde turned around to face you and slid both arms around your waist.

“I hope so Danvers.” You smiled weakly.

Carol leaned in and kissed you softly, your arms went to wrap around her neck by instinct. Your lips moved over hers familiarly, you sighed softly into the kiss, wishing it would last forever before Carol pulled away. She smiled softly at you and pulled you in for a tight hug, she kissed the top of your head before letting go.

“Go before I change my mind.” You laughed when Carol smiled apologetically at you.

She laughed and ran a bit further from you before flying off, you smiled as you saw her fly off. You kept looking at her until she was just another star in the light speckle sky. After she was gone, you sighed and went inside to Brooke, she watched TV while snuggled up in a princess blanket Carol had bought her while shopping.

The next few days went slower than you could ever imagine. Brooke seemed to get bored easily and was generally harder to entertain. You felt like you were going insane.

The alarm clock started blaring, you reminded yourself that it was only a few more days till you wouldn’t have to wake up in a cold bed anymore. You groggily got out of bed, remembering you'd dropped Brooke off at her grandparent's house for a day, they were taking her to school and would be bringing her back in the evening.

After eating cereal, you got ready and played some music while you made your way to work. You smiled to yourself at the song that played, the soft beats creating a relaxed atmosphere.

‘Step out into the sun

Skies above they radiate me

Lift, carry the love, do you know?’

You leaned back into your car seat, making the best of your commute to work as you let the music wash over you.

‘That I’ve been out of my mind

This slow life I’m waiting for you

To swing me all of your light

Do you know?’

Eventually, you started singing the song to yourself. You’d never thought that the lovesick lyrics would ever apply to you so accurately. You paused the song as you pulled into your parking spot at work, sighing as you made your way inside, the lyrics still stuck in your head as you worked.

‘Since I've been walking solo

Dreaming you were back home

I find getting down low

Hide until tomorrow’

Work was somehow the fastest part of your day, it kept you busy so you had no time to miss Carol. Once you got off of work, you checked your phone to see that they had dropped Brooke off at your house and there was a surprise waiting for you.

You frowned at the mysterious text and practically sprinted to your car to make your way back home. One you got there, you pressed your ear to the door, you heard laughing and voices, familiar voices. You put your keys in the keyhole and opened the door, turning around to find your niece, Carol, and your parents setting out the table for you.

“Hey, babe.” Carol winked at you, she wore light blue ripped jeans and a navy blue blouse.

You grinned and pounced on her, pulling her into a tight hug which she returned instantly. You heard your parents mutter something sarcastic as they continued helping Brooke set the table.

“You’re back early,” You said excitedly, Carol nodded and grinned at you, pecking your lips before pulling out her phone.

You opened your mouth to ask what was going on, it wasn’t often that Carol invited your parents over for a surprise visit. A knock interrupted you, Carol went excitedly to open the door. Maria Rambeau stood on the other side holding a Tupperware of Lasagna and a bottle of wine, Monica standing next to her.

“Hi,” You greeted, smiling at her. Maria smiled back at you and whispered that she got the ring to Carol, both of them laughed as Maria walked inside. Carol glanced at you to make sure you didn’t hear, your confused expression erased her suspicions.

“Care to explain what’s happening?” You whispered to Carol, she winked at you and led you towards your shared room as both of your families chatted.

“It’s a surprise.” She said, walking over to your shared closet and handing you a change of clothes, you tilted your head to the side.

“Surprise? You somehow managed to get my parents and my niece to co-operate in this?” You asked with a raised eyebrow as you made your way over to the bathroom.

“I can be persuasive when I want to.” the blonde grinned at you.

You rolled your eyes playfully and changed in the bathroom. Carol had given you a loose, white short-sleeved top with a keyhole and white ripped jeggings. Everyone in your kitchen was dressed casually, you couldn’t help but wonder why all of them were here.

Dinner went fairly well, your parents had met Maria many times before, but this time there was more playful banter and everyone seemed to be keeping a secret from you. Even Brooke wouldn’t tell you no matter how much you asked.

After dinner, Carol took care of the dishes while you talked to Maria and your parents. Brooke was snuggled into your lap, she giggled when Carol came out of the kitchen with a small box in her hands. You leaned your head back on the couch and watched her walk over to you as she fidgeted with a small navy blue box.

“Are you finally ready to tell me what this surprise is?” You asked, surprised when everyone around you either giggled or barely suppressed this laughter.

“Actually, yes,” Carol smirked, still fidgeting with the box in her hands.

“You seriously haven’t figured it out yet?” Maria inquired, you frowned and shrugged. Carol shot her a death glare and sat next to you.

“So, I’ve been thinking, your family and mine seem to get along fairly well.” Carol began, you nodded and laid one hand on her thigh to ease her fidgeting. She smiled nervously at you and sighed.

“Y/n y/l/n, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” She asked, your eyes widened instantly when you saw her open the box and kneel in front of you.

The ring was gorgeous, it was a rose gold solitaire with diamonds studded on both sides.

All the puzzle pieces clicked into place, the reason why she wanted both of your families in the same place, why she had come back early, all of the secrets, everything finally clicked into place. You grinned and put one hand in front of you.

“Yes,” You breathed, grinning from ear to ear.

All of the nervousness instantly faded, Carol released a sigh of relief and grinned while putting the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, you admired the ring on your finger. Brooke climbed into your lap and revealed a small ring on her ring finger.

You lifted her hand to eye level. Looking at the ring, it was a thin rose gold band with small diamonds studded on it, Brooke slid it off to show you the engraving on the inside, trying to tug your ring off too.

“I asked Brooke before to make sure it was okay,” Carol explained. You looked at her with watery eyes, shocked that someone could love you so much to ask your niece for permission to marry you.

You took yours off and held it next to your niece's hand. Both the rings had an engraving on the inside, it said ‘You shine brighter than any star in the sky.’. Your heart melted at the engraving, you hugged Brooke close before slipping both your rings on and hugging Carol, ignoring everyone around you cheering and smiling.

“I love you,” You whispered, Carol, grinned and blushed. No matter how many times you said those words, they still made her heart skip a beat.

“I love you too my star.” She whispered, you smiled into her neck and inhaled her scent. You couldn’t be happier in the arms of your fiance, surrounded by the people you loved most.

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @5aftermidnight, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart , @never-didbefore , @justarandomhumanhere, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn , @lesbian-x-blackwidow , @marvelbbyx , @wlw-imaginesss , @hcartbyheart , @summergeezburr let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

A/N: This was too fluffy, what do you think?

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thebiasrekkers · 3 years

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Make It Right [BTS Mafia AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,327

Tag List: @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali, @shrimpmsg, @ggukkieland

AN: And here we go...

Chapter 57: Boy Meets Evil

“But in order to be free from this crime, it’s impossible to forget and give up.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

One Week Later Incheon – Sungui; Nam District South Korea

Hoseok and Seokjin stood side by side as they looked at the large, gray building in front of them. They parked their car at the end of the long road, surveying their surroundings. The morning sky was overcast and shrouded the landscape in hues of grays; desaturating everything. Autumn was already upon them and foliage that was once fully in bloom would soon begin singing their songs of lamentation as they died.

It was the season for beginnings to come to an end.

The old factory was worn from years of neglect. Rust spots were speckled over the iron and there were a few spider cracks along large windows on every side. Several other sedans were parked nearby, presumably Jade Fang members. Hoseok cast a critical eye over them, his gaze meeting Seokjin’s. They both nodded, stepping in sync as they approached the large metal double doors.

His hand went out to reach for the handle, pulling it open. The hinges screamed from abuse, crying for attention. The sound wailed through the expanse as the bottom portion of the door scraped along the concrete flooring. Seokjin followed closely as he entered, pulling the door closed behind him. The ambient noise of the city quickly transformed into that of a tomb.

Their footsteps echoed over the wide space. Hoseok took note of the many wooden crates that lined either walls, giving access to a variety of blind spots. The factory had a single floor that was one big open space. High above it, catwalks ran along the rafters all leading from the factory manager’s office: a metal cube suspended at one end of the warehouse. Abandoned shelf scaffolding broke up the empty space. Crates and pallets were strewn around, making decent hiding places.

He frowned when a few of Changkyun’s underlings looked at him suspiciously – each of them armed with bats, pipes, and knives. Sliding his hand into his pocket, he smirked while shaking his head. It was obvious that Changkyun didn’t trust him and that was fine. After the damage he’d caused, Hoseok couldn’t blame him for taking precautions against him.

Even if this was supposed to be a general meeting.

“Jin Hyung,” a voice called to them, causing both men to halt in their steps.

They looked over to the right where another portion of the factory broke off, seeing Wonho reveal himself. He flicked his tongue out over his lip ring, grinning like a man who’d just won a high stakes poker game. Hoseok slowly blinked as Seokjin situated himself to his right.

Wonho stopped just a few feet short from them. “I didn’t expect you to be here. I figured it would be Namjoon-ah like usual.”

Seokjin shrugged. “Yeah well, we’ve decided not to be so predictable.”

They watched him peer around them, as though he was expecting more people. “The others?”

“None of your business. Besides, he asked to meet me, did he not?”

Hoseok flicked some of his hair out of his eyes, watching the smirk on Wonho’s face grow a little more. There was a small flame of anger that continued to burn in his chest. But he didn’t say anything. He waited for Wonho to look at him, bowing his head in respect, before giving a gentle sigh.

“Where’s Changkyun-ah?”

Without breaking their gaze, Wonho raised his hand up and pointed toward the large metal stairwell that led to the manager’s office. Hoseok started to make his way to the stairwell, but stopped when Wonho side-stepped into his path. He cut his eyes at him, his brows knitting tightly. He was in no mood to play any sort of games right now. This was about business.

“Sorry Hoseok-ah,” he said, holding his hands up in a mock show of surrender, “gotta search you. Boss’s orders.”

Hoseok looked around at the armed men in the warehouse before meeting Wonho’s gaze. “…are you fuckin’ serious?”

Seokjin took a step forward but Hoseok held an arm out to stop him. He rolled his eyes, lifting his other arm so that Wonho could frisk him. No one moved, however, and this irritated him.

“Whatever. Let’s get this over with, huh? I don’t have all day.”

“Yes, yes,” he said, moving toward him.

It didn’t take long for Wonho to search him. The clothing he wore was loose-fitting around his torso while his pants were a slim fit. It made movement easier for him, but would have been obvious had he concealed anything on his person. After the search was finished, he stepped to the side to let Hoseok through. He heard Seokjin move only to take note of the sound of him being stopped. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Wonho was now impeding his brother’s path.

“Wonho-yah,” came Seokjin’s even tone, “move.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Jin Hyung. Hoseok-ah has to go on alone.” He grinned. “You can keep me company instead.”

“It’s okay, Jin Hyung,” reassured Hoseok, “I can handle it from here.”

Seokjin didn’t seem satisfied with this, but he shook his head. He knew there was no stopping Hoseok now that he was set to take care of things once and for all. This would be the last time they would have this altercation with their former brothers of the underworld. Timing was crucial.

Hoseok ascended the stairwell slowly, the iron steps rattling under him as he moved. Both hands were in his pockets as he walked, his eyes continuing to look at all the various angles of the factory warehouse. If he knew Changkyun as well as he thought he did, then his other upper-tiered members were scattered around outside. They would be on the lookout for anyone to try and shake things up.

But he already had an ace up his sleeve for that.

At the top of the stairs, the door to the office stood. To the left, a grated walkway led out over the floor, spreading into catwalks that sprawled the entire place. There was a small square window on the door smudged with dirt. He knocked loudly, the sound reverberating off the walls and bouncing back to hit his body in small tremors. When the door opened, it was Shownu standing in the doorway. They stood silently, almost gauging the other, before he shifted off to the side to allow him entrance. Once inside, Shownu exited the manager’s office and closed the door behind him.

Hoseok saw Changkyun nursing a cup of coffee from an electric kettle. The only furniture in the room were two heavy wooden tables. The rest of the office was bare; a thin slit of a window overlooking the warehouse floor. He watched him turn, smiling as he sipped from the mug. Changkyun held out the cup to Hoseok.

“Did you want me to make you a cup?”

“Are you repurposing this place?”

Changkyun snapped his fingers and pointed at him, a look of satisfaction clearly painted over his face. “Wow, you don’t miss a thing, do you Hyung?”

He shrugged, gesturing to the electric kettle with a simple tilt of his head.

“The market value for this place was decent. People need jobs and I just got my hands on a permit to start turning this into a mass shipping facility.”

“How long have you been working on this?”

He watched him hum, as if he really needed a moment to pause and think. “A few months now.”

“I see.”

“There’s money to be made, so why not make it?” He walked back over to the kettle where another mug sat on the table. “Did you want coffee or no?”

Sighing, Hoseok pulled the sleeve of his jacket back to look at his watch. “I thought we were here to talk business?”

“Always so serious,” he said, smiling, “you can relax. I won’t bite.”

“You killed my brothers and my sister-in-law,” came Hoseok’s slow response, “what the fuck did you expect?”

Changkyun clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth while shaking his head. “Oh, come on now. I already told you that this wasn’t personal.”

“You made it personal.”

“Wrong!” His voice boomed out over the small space. “I made a point.”

Hoseok scoffed. “Is that what you call it? A point?”

“Yes, I do.” He set the cup down on the table. “I warned you, Hyung, about how weak your defenses were when you left your power behind. The people around you were at risk the minute you decided to step into the light. Money and power talk and while money has done you some good, your lack of power exposed your neck to me.”

There was a pregnant pause that stretched between them. He wasn’t sure if Changkyun was waiting for him to respond to his statements, but there was nothing for him to say. Not yet. He wanted to hear everything his former brother had to unleash on him before he came out with a rebuttal of his own.

Changkyun moved away from the table, crossing the room to stand opposite of him. His back was now to the office window while Hoseok’s remained facing the door. They stared each other down; both attempting to read the other.

If looks could kill…

“Your business was with us, the Golden Jackals. You didn’t have to drag Eden into it. She had nothing to do with this.”

Changkyun waggled his finger at him. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“How?”

“Attacking just you would have seemed personal. That’s not my endgame. Eden was an unfortunate casualty, but she was also a necessary piece that you needed to lose in this game.”

A flash of burning outrage slashed across Hoseok’s chest. For him to refer to his sister-in-law as a mere “casualty” was about as much as he could stand. But instead of launching himself across the room to lay into him, he curled his hands into fists at his sides. He couldn’t let him get under his skin so soon. They’d only just started talking.

He took a breath, a seemingly vain attempt to dampen his anger.

“So,” Hoseok breathed, “you still think this is some kind of game, huh?”

“I do.” He grinned. “And I’ve won.”

Snorting, Hoseok folded his arms across his chest. “The game isn’t over, Changkyun-ah. I still haven’t given you the keys to my kingdom.”

He watched Changkyun’s mouth form into a small ‘O’ before it spread into an arrogant smirk. “And are you?”

“They’re not mine to give.”

“I beg to differ.” Changkyun took another step closer. “You held Yongsan and Gangnam in your hands for years. You controlled those territories in a way that the other district bosses can’t ignore. It won’t be as easy as a simple gang scuffle to settle things.”

Hoseok frowned. “And why not?”

“Because you made it that way.”

He couldn’t stop the incredulous laugh that slipped out of him. “So what? This is my responsibility?”

“It never stopped being your responsibility.” He closed the distance even further, reaching a hand to grasp at Hoseok’s shoulder. “Don’t you see that?”

For a while, all Hoseok could do was look back at him. This was the man he once considered a good friend; a brother. They had so many ideas for the future. Ideas to make things better. Back when everything made sense because life was simpler. Hoseok believed he could talk Changkyun into turning over a new leaf with him – of paving a road with clean hands and leaving the dirtiness of the underworld behind them. He thought that Changkyun was better suited for a life that didn’t involve crime, betrayal, and cruelty.

The hope for that began to dwindle the day Hoseok saw him murder the former Jade Fangs leader in cold blood.

It completely vanished when he cremated his family’s bodies.

“It’s still not too late, Hyung,” urged Changkyun gently, “you can still join me. Reclaim your territories and come back home. I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.”

Hoseok sighed, closing his eyes and hanging his head slightly. “Changkyun-ah.” He lifted his head, eyelids fluttering as he opened them to meet the other man’s gaze. “I’m glad we had this talk. You’ve confirmed a few things for me.”

Changkyun canted his head slightly, his calm and welcoming expression melting into slight confusion. “What things?”

“That you haven’t changed. That you never will change.” Hoseok smiled pityingly at him. “You’re incapable of it.”

He felt his hand sliding off his shoulder, dropping limply at his side as he frowned. He didn’t say anything, so Hoseok continued.

“You’ve always been so sneaky. Planning everything so that you are always five steps ahead of the person you’re trying to overtake. You’re good at playing the long game and that’s why you always think you’ve won. That you’ll never be beaten.”

“I have yet to be proven wrong.”

“I’m a thinker too. But there are better thinkers at my side. People who retraced months of your steps in the process of doing their research. People who are better at getting into your head than I am.” Hoseok gave a wide gesture to the empty office space around them. “People who knew about your plans for this warehouse days before my arrival.”

For the first time since their conversation began, Changkyun looked perturbed. Hoseok wasn’t in the business of pouring salt into wounds, but he was done playing nice. He was done giving warnings.

He was finishing this today.

Lowering his gaze, he looked at his watch one more time. His smile grew a little bit wider as he locked his eyes with Changkyun’s – relishing in the realization that slowly overtook his face.

“And those same people found out that you had the gas and electric rewired for the building before having it turned on.”

And then the world shook violently beneath their feet from the explosion downstairs.

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ruffboijuliaburnsides · 4 years

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voiceless!Jaskier AU (pt 9)

FINALLY MORE WORDS ARRIVE!!! Only about half the chapter, but it’s here, and the first hint of properly coming out of the early heavy angst and into something fluffier! :D I hope you guys enjoy it.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 10) Now on AO3

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

Their teacher was a middle-aged halfling woman named Rose, and she was an absolute terror.

They took up residence in a boarding house of sorts in the town they were directed to, that was thankfully not built to dwarven proportions in all respects, and they did various chores and other needed tasks to pay their way in between lessons.

It wasn't really anything like what Jaskier was expecting, to be honest. He'd expected... something else. Something harder, he thinks. He'd expected to be slaving away over repeated motions and confusion, and watching Geralt apply himself only when necessary. In retrospect, that was unfair of him to assume, but it remained in his head for some weeks until it really sank in.

Geralt wasn't going to leave. Geralt wasn't planning to leave, at least not without Jaskier. They both worked as general laborers for their room and board, and Geralt worked almost more diligently than Jaskier at learning to sign, and stayed and stayed and stayed.

And spoke and spoke and spoke.

It could've just been practice. Throwing himself into learning to sign, so he could understand Jaskier, would make sense for Geralt to practice as often as he could, the same way he learned to fight or to identify monsters or to brew his potions. But as they gained knowledge and vocabulary, Jaskier found that Geralt would sign things that were... unnecessary.

Things like: [That boy keeps mooning over the blacksmith's daughter. He doesn't stand a chance, her attention's on the laundress.]

Or: [Do you want me to stew or roast the venison tonight?]

Or: [I saw it and thought of you.]

Or: [That cloud looks like a rabbit.]

Or: [I don't know why, I just thought it would make you smile.]

Rose put them through their paces, adding and adding to their vocabularies every day, and telling them that they shouldn't use any other form of communication if they could help it. Geralt shouldn't speak (not a difficult prospect, admittedly) and Jaskier shouldn't write (much more difficult). But... it helped. They learned, and Jaskier found it all getting easier and easier, found even poetic thoughts coming faster and looser from his hands. It was like being freed, and as he learned, he found that the suffocating feeling of his words pressing in his throat came less and less often.

The most unexpected part of it all, though, was still the fact that Geralt was actually... talkative, like this. Jaskier spent months just drowning in Geralt's words. Apparently making speech something physical, rather than verbal, was all it took to unlock Geralt's thoughts and opinions. Rose explained as they learned how much facial expressions and the emphaticness of the signs themselves were part of the language, and Jaskier found himself graced with an abundance of expression.

When Geralt was angry or irritated, he got that crease between his eyebrows and his signs were sharp and small, the bare minimum of movement to express his thought. When he was feeling things strongly, his signs got bigger and more expansive. When he was teasing Jaskier, there was a looseness to him, and a quirk of his lips. It was overwhelming, and Jaskier couldn't quite believe it was really happening.

But it was. But it did. It wasn't often, admittedly, but it was more often than had ever happened before. Geralt seemed almost glad to let go of any sort of audible communication, as they grew in skill, and the two of them signed... a lot.

Jaskier was feeling a lot.

Geralt said, comparatively, a lot.

They'd spent just over a year in Mahakan before Jaskier's grasp of sign met whatever threshold Geralt was comfortable with.

[If we go now,] Geralt signed, even though he could speak, and somehow Jaskier always came back to that, and how uncertain he felt about Geralt foregoing speech when it was right there for him to use, [do you feel you know enough to speak the way you want?]

It was the most thoughtful, awful, obnoxious, amazing thing anyone had ever asked him, and Jaskier wasn't sure how he felt, to be honest, but he wasn't willing to let things fall to the wayside because of him.

[If we don't know the official Mahakan sign for a word,] Jaskier signed back, [then we can make our own.] It was a lot to ask, but Jaskier wanted to travel. He loved Rose and he loved this little village, but it wasn't where either of them were meant to be. He wanted what they knew to be enough.

It was enough for Geralt, too, apparently. The next day, Geralt packed their things on Roach, Jaskier crouched to kiss Rose on the cheek and signed his thank yous even as she tried to shove extra supplies in his hands with verbal admonitions to write her and come back to visit someday if their travels brought them back this way.

It was strange, being back on the road after so long, but it felt like coming home. Geralt rode Roach, Jaskier walked next to them, and even though he couldn't hum a tune or play his lute Jaskier felt a weight lift off his chest that he hadn't realized was still there. He sped up a bit, so he was in front of Roach, scanned for any large rocks or dips in the road he might trip on, and when he felt like there was at least a short stretch of relatively smooth road, he turned to face Geralt, flicking a little wave to be sure he had Geralt's attention before he started to sign.

[So what's the plan? Do you think there will be any contracts for you before we leave Mahakam?]

"Watch the road, Jaskier," Geralt rumbled, but there wasn't a hint of bite to it. Jaskier was just too far away to tell if he had that tiny quirk of his lips that meant he was smiling, but it seemed likely. The thought of it made a spot under Jaskier's chest feel warm and safe. He rolled his eyes melodramatically, though, and threw up his hands in surrender as he turned back to face the road.

It was funny almost, how over a year ago, Jaskier would've assumed the conversation was over. And it might've been, too, if he was being honest with himself. But now the admonition was simply acknowledging that Jaskier wasn't deaf, Geralt could speak perfectly adequately, and if Jaskier tripped on a loose stone, he'd fall flat on his ass and possibly rip his trousers.

"Probably won't be contracts until we reach Aedirn," Geralt said behind him, and Jaskier couldn't quite hide the smile that stretched across his face at the sound. "Earn a bit of coin to tide us over. Then we start looking for a cure."

Geralt sounded firm, but Jaskier grimaced despite himself, pleased mood gone and a tired sort of frustration sinking into his bones.

They'd had the argument a lot, in recent weeks. While Jaskier was absolutely not opposed to finding a way to get his voice back, so much of the pain of having lost it was mitigated by being able to sign. Not all of it, he thought, pushing back thoughts of his lute, sitting largely unused in its case on Roach's saddle. He'd managed to pull it out a few times over the last year, to check it for damage, clean it, so a quick tuning to make sure it was at least close to properly tuned, to make sure it was ready. He hadn't played, but...

But mostly he was all right, and it was easier to get by and not feel like he was drowning in unsaid words. And in Jaskier's opinion, it would be easier if they worked more, saved up the money, and then went looking when they ran into a promising lead. But Geralt kept saying that the most important thing was finding a way to get Jaskier's voice back, and damn the effort. Which was a nice sentiment that had meant everything to Jaskier when they'd first come to Mahakam, but now it seemed reckless and silly.

Now he wasn't sure what he wanted. He wanted to feel comfortable playing again. He wanted to stay practiced in his playing, if not in his singing. He wanted to at least write the melodies of a song that he would sing one day when he had his voice back. He wanted his voice back. He wanted his voice, he wanted his music.

He wanted Geralt.

But mostly at this moment he wanted to not run himself ragged over the ensuing months trying to keep up with Geralt's attempts to frantically find a cure for something that he could, for the time being, bear with relative ease. Following leads was one thing, moving at a breakneck pace to try to find leads, which is what he was pretty sure Geralt intended to do, was a whole other thing.

But it was a conversation best saved for when Jaskier could talk at length without having to walk backwards. He could try again when they made camp.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 10) Now on AO3

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #geraskier #voiceless jaskier au #my fic #ayhwa

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imagineofallkindsxxx · 3 years

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Eternal Flame- Kol Mikaelson 5/?

You Should Be Like Me, Be Single!

Summary: 'You never know whats in a persons heart until you truly know them' - Belle French, Once Upon a Time

Singing. Thats all what Alexandra Gilbert has cared about since she was young and all she would care about until she met him.

With Alexandra fighting vampires, werewolves and all inbetween she may do a thing she vowed never to do, fall in love.

And to think it all started with a walk in the woods...

Waking up from the previous night was like I just had a bad dream but the bruises on my arm remind me that what happened was very very real. I looked at the digital clock on my night stand and saw it read 7:31. Shit. I ran into the bathroom to brush my teeth and have the quickest shower known to man before changing into burgundy dress with short sleeves and ends mid-thigh. Put on some winged eyeliner, highlighter and a nice shade of dark red lipstick. I ran down stairs seeing its 8:05, I'm able to get a coffee quick before heading off to the first day of school. When walking into the kitchen I saw my little brother on a stool. I poured myself some coffee into a travel mug before turning towards him.

"Hey. How are you?" I asked curious to how my baby brother is holding up.

"Alright considering. But I should be asking you that, how are you after last night?" I looked at him thinking of an answer that wouldn't seem selfish and rude but also honest. I hate bitching about Elena towards my brother. I don't want him to feel like he has to pick between the two of us. Before I could answer him, I heard a loud honk outside making me realise that Sam was here to five me a ride to school.

"That's my ride. do you want a lift to school?" I asked like every day and everyday he'd decline

"Nah I'm fine, Elena is taking me." I smiled and ruffle his hair before bidding him good bye seeing out my peripheral vision him trying to fix his hair making me smile a little. I grabbed my bag and walked outside getting into Sam’s car, he picks me up as on his way to school he passes my house, it’s been that way since sophmore year even before me and Elena became estranged.

"Hey, what's up?" Sam asks.

"Hi, nothing just a bit tired that's all. We still on for tonight?" I replied leaving out the reason I didn’t sleep being because of the worrisome thoughts about a certain Lockwood.

"To my knowledge. Hope so anyway, first performance in a month this Saturday. We need to prepare." He said determined to do well this weekend. Sam was always the most determined out of the four of us which I admired greatly. I hummed in agreement to his previous statement. We listened to music trying to find any song that would fit our genre on the radio before pulling up into the school parking lot filled with miserable teens not wanting to go back to school. We got out grabbing my bag and helping Sam with his bass I told him I'd meet him inside at our spot which I already know James will be lurking, he’s always early to get in. I saw my sister and her friends and walked up to them hearing Caroline say.

"Here we are. Senior year." Which made me sigh making my presence known.

"Anyone else think it should feel slightly more empowering?" Bonnie said voicing my thoughts of how deflating and normal this feels.

"Absolutely Bon. Understand where you're coming from." I replied agreeing with the witch.

"Okay. So, prank night was a bust. But we are accepting it, and we are moving on" she addressed us all not making me feel any better but for sake of pretence I put a smile on my face. This was before the pity party of my friends started with Bonnie starting by saying.

"You're right. I mean, why should I let the fact that my boyfriend is seeing the ghost of his dead girlfriends hinder this experience?" Wait what? Jeremy is speaking to his dead girlfriends? Plural? Jesus this is fucked up

"Today's our anniversary. Technically, Stefan and I met on the first day of school last year."

"Yes! And why should I let the fact that my boyfriend was turned into a hybrid put a damper on an otherwise fabulous day?" Caroline added making me think fair enough. Then Elena spoke.

"Okay you win" Caroline declared, this is when I stepped in and started walking backwards away from my sister and friends.

"Won what? The biggest pity party? You should be like me ladies, be single! Much easier than dealing and worrying about little boys!" I said with a huge smile on my face. I mean what's the big deal? "I’ll see you later." Walking away from the group of girls. I walked to our spot where I now realised Mark had joined also. this led to the four of us discussing what class we have next.

"I've got gym. Fantastic" Sam says sarcastically "Just what I need to start the first day of school"

"Better than math, feel like poking my eyes out just with the thought of quadratic equations" Mark states groaning at the thought of the numerical based class.

"I've got history. Decent compared to you two." I said looking at my time table.

"Same, thank god. I'm terrible at history. I literally only passed because I copied most of the work off of you." James informed me of his cheating.

"Gee thanks Jamie. feel so great about one of my best friends cheating." he just ignored me turning towards the rest of the group, "I'm going to put my stuff in my locker. Meet you here before heading to history?" I asked James.

"Yeah, sure." He dismissed me too engrossed in the conversation about a football game next week? Honestly, I don't particularly care about the game itself but the players do make up how boring the sport is.

I stalked off to my locker putting in my combination before seeing Elena and Caroline a few lockers up from me.

"Hello ladies." I said letting them know that I am there where Caroline shhh'd me pointing towards my sister who was on the phone, I gave her a questioning look.

"Damon" she whispered and I nodded in realization.

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

"Rebekah? She's living with you now? Why?" asking many somewhat reasonable questions about the original, she’s quiet for a few seconds which I’m sure is waiting on Damon finishing.

"What about Stefan? What is he up to?" Asking about her beau worrying about him and his most likely death count. She waits while Damon answers.

"Come on Damon. I can handle it. What?" Persisting that Damon tells her what her boyfriend is doing before taking her phone away from her ear revealing he hung up on her. Yikes, must be bad.

Caroline then when the conversation finished put up a flyer next to me with it saying 'Spirit Squad Back to school Bonfire'.

"Is that tonight?" I questioned my friend forgetting all about the tradition, hopefully this one doesn’t turn out the same way the prank night did.

"I forgot about the bonfire" Elena said having more important matters to think about. Caroline taking our forgetfulness as not wanting to go by her rushing to say.

"You have to go. it's our first spirit quad event. And it sets the bar for the whole year." But me and Elena both ease her nerves by confirming that we will go and for her to relax. "Thank you. It's just that..." but before she could finish Tyler comes in suddenly and kisses Caroline.

"Happy first day!" he exclaims to the three of us which I give a small smile at until I see the red mark on his shirt which Elena clocks as well.

"Is that blood?" The brunette asks.

"Oh my god!" Caroline exclaims before pushing him into the boy’s bathroom with me and my twin following the couple.

"What's going on?!" he exclaims seeming genuinely confused about how having your breakfast on your shirt is a bad look.

"Vampire 101... don't wear your breakfast to school!" I'm checking if anyone was in the cubicles and would hear the supernatural based conversation going on between the couple.

"Chill out. it’s just a blood bag." Tyler said attempting to defend himself.

"From where?" Caroline questioned still extremely angry looking, before I could see this car crash of a conversation get even worse, I decided to escape

"Yeah. I’m just going to go now. Bye" being awkward but I had to get out of there. "Thank Christ I'm single" I muttered when I left the restroom.

I walked towards the spot in the corner only seeing James making me think the rest have went to class.

"Did you just come out of the boy’s restroom?" he asked confused about my whereabouts.

"Don't ask." I said and surprisingly he didn’t make fun making me think that I look quite stressed about the fact my friend turned hybrid is now going around with blood on his shirt.

It’s not even first period.

"Let’s just get to class."

When walking to class we made idle chat James trying to keep my spirits up. "Thanks James. I might let you cheat off my first paper just for this."

"For what?" he asked looking confused

"Being a good friend" yet he still looked confused when we walked into the class together, I saw my sister and Alaric talking quite closely making me furrow my eyebrows before smiling at the teacher and walking to the middle of the class where neither of us would be noticed. the class bell rang as I got my notebook out and wrote 'AP American History' on the front copying from the blackboard on the front. I overheard Elena saying to Alaric

"Look, him being here is not good for any of us. We have to do something." making me give her a questioning look which she dismissed by mouthing 'later' but something tells me it might have to do something with a vampire boyfriend with hero hair. Elena sits in her usual seat with Caroline coming and sitting next to left and Kyle sitting on her right well before our new resident psycho comes in to my shock going right to Kyle before saying menacingly.

"You're in my seat" making Kyle move to another seat. Poor Kyle.

Before anything else could be said Alaric started to teach the class

"Welcome back seniors. Let’s turn our brains back on, starting with this country's original founders... the Native Americans." Great can already feel how fascinating this lesson is, James already looking like he will fall asleep at any moment before class has even begun.

"What about the Vikings?" a girl asks taking a seat next to me

"She's hot" I heard a whisper come from my left making me give him a glare. before going back to looking at the blonde sitting next to me. Ric just replied by saying "There's no evidence the Viking explorers actually settled in the United States. Who are you?"

"My names Rebekah and history is my favourite subject"

Hope you enjoyed reading.

A/N: I fucked up with chapters so this is chapter 3 the beginning of 'smells like teen spirit.'

his was is the beginning of the episode and next will introduce Alex best girl friend Ash, dynamics between her and a certain character and more of the band.

Any British slang, spelling or grammar problems let me know.

Thanks for reading Lovelies xxx

Please comment any positive or negative feedback

#kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson x you #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelaon #the vampire diaries imagines #the originals imagine #kol mikaelson series

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orthodoxydaily · 3 years

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Saints&Reading: Sun, Apr., 25, 2021

PALM SUNDAY IN JERUSALEM, 2021

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Orthodox Christians marked Palm Sunday in Jerusalem, the beginning of the Holy Week leading up to Orthodox Easter.

The Greek Orthodox Patriarch of Jerusalem Theophilos III attended the vigil in Jerusalem's Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the traditional site of Jesus' crucifixion and resurrection.

Some faithful wore masks and held palm fronds to symbolise how worshippers greeted Jesus over 2,000 years ago as he triumphantly returned to Jerusalem.

HOMILY ON PALM SUNDAY BY ST. GREGORY PALAMAS

In an acceptable time have I heard thee, and in a day of salvation have I helped thee, said God through Isaiah (Is. 49:8). It is good today to speak these words of the apostle to your charity: Behold, now is the accepted time; behold now is the day of salvation (2 Cor. 6:2). Let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us work the works of light. Let us walk honestly as in the day (Rom. 13:12-13). The commemoration of Christ’s saving passion is at hand, and the new, great spiritual Passover, which is the reward for dispassion and the prelude of the world to come. Lazarus proclaims it in advance by coming back from the depths of Hades and rising from the dead on the fourth day just by the voice and command of God, who has power over life and death (Jn. 11:1-45). By the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, children and simple people sing praises in advance to the Redeemer from death, who brings souls up from Hades and gives souls and bodies eternal life.

What man is he that desireth life and to see good days? Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips that they speak no guile: depart from evil and do good (Ps. 34:12-14; compare 1 Pet. 3:10-11). Evil means gluttony, drunkenness and dissolute living. Evil means love of money, being greedy for gain, and injustice. Evil means vainglory, arrogance and pride. Let everyone turn aside from such vices and do those things which are good. What are they? Self-control, fasting, chastity, righteousness, almsgiving, forbearance, love, humility. That by so doing we may worthily partake of the Lamb of God Who was sacrificed for our sake, and so receive the earnest of incorruption, and keep it as an assurance of the inheritance promised to us in heaven. Is it hard to do what is good, and are the virtues more difficult than the vices? That is certainly not how I see it. The drunken, self-indulgent person subjects himself because of this to more sufferings than someone who restrains himself; the licentious person suffers more than someone chaste; someone striving to become rich more than someone who lives in contentment with what he has; the person seeking to surround himself with glory than someone who passes life in obscurity. Since, however, the virtues seem more difficult to us because of our love of comfort, let us force ourselves. The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, it says, and the violent take it by force (Mt. 11:12).

All of us, eminent and lowly, governors and governed, rich and poor, need diligence and attention to drive these evil passions away from our souls, and introduce the whole range of virtues in their stead. Farmers, shoemakers, builders, tailors, weavers, and in general all those who earn their living by their own effort and the work of their hands, provided they throw out of their souls the desire for riches, glory and pleasure, are truly blessed. These are the poor to whom the kingdom of heaven belongs. It was on their account that the Lord said, Blessed are the poor in spirit (Mt. 5:3). The poor in spirit are those whose spirits, or souls, are free from boasting, love of glory and fondness for pleasure, and therefore either choose to be poor in external things as well or else courageously bear involuntary poverty. Those who are rich and comfortable, and enjoy fleeting glory, and in general all who long to be like them, will yield to more harmful passions and fall into other worse traps of the devil, which are more difficult to deal with. When someone becomes rich, he does not lay aside his desire for riches, but increases it, grasping at more than he did before. In the same way, pleasure lovers, power seekers, the dissolute and the debauched increase their desires rather than renouncing them. Rulers and eminent men increase their power so as to commit greater injustices and sin.

That is why it is difficult for a ruler to be saved or for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. How can ye believe, it says, which receive honour one of another, and seek not the honour that cometh from God only? (Jn. 5.44). But if any of you are well off, or eminent or rulers, do not be dismayed. You can, if you wish, seek the glory of God and exert force on yourselves to stop the impetus towards becoming worse, to practice great virtues and to drive away great evils, not just from yourselves, but from many other people, even against their will. Not only can you act honestly and chastely yourselves, but there are many ways in which you can prevent those who want to be unjust and licentious from doing so. Not only can you show yourselves obedient to Christ’s Gospel and His teachings, but you can also bring those who are minded to disobey into subjection to Christ’s Church and its leaders according to Christ. This you are able to do, not just by means of the power and authority allotted to you by God, but by becoming an example of all that is good to those below you. For subjects become like their rulers.

Everyone needs diligence, force and attention, but not to the same extent. Those exalted in honor, wealth and power, and those who concern themselves with words and the acquisition of wisdom by means of them, even if they wish to be saved, are in need of greater force and diligence, since they are less obedient by nature. Exactly this can be clearly seen in the reading from Christ’s Gospel yesterday and today. The miracle performed on Lazarus openly proved the one who did it to be God. But whereas the people were convinced and believed, the rulers at that time, that is to say, the scribes and Pharisees, were so far from being persuaded that they raged against Him even more, and resolved in their madness to hand Him over to death, although everything He had said and done plainly declared Him to be the Lord of life and death. No one can say that the fact that the Lord lifted up His eyes at that time and said, Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard me, was an obstacle to their regarding Him as equal to the Father, since He went on to say, I knew that thou hearest me always: but because of the people which stand by I said it, that they might believe that thou hast sent me (Jn. 11:41-42). So that they might know He was God and came from the Father, and also that He did not work miracles in opposition to God, but in accordance with God’s purpose, He lifted up His eyes to God in front of everybody and spoke to Him in words which make it clear that He who was speaking on earth was equal to the heavenly Father on high. In the beginning when man was to be formed, there was a Counsel beforehand. So now also, in the case of Lazarus, when a man was to be formed anew, there was a Counsel first. When man was to be created the Father said to the Son, Let us make man (Gen. 1:26), the Son listened to the Father, and man was brought into being. Now, by contrast, the Father listened to the Son speaking, and Lazarus was brought to life.

Notice that the Father and the Son are of equal honor and have the same will. The words are in the form of a prayer for the sake of the crowd standing by, but they are not the words of prayer but of lordship and absolute authority. Lazarus come forth (Jn. 11.43). And at once the man who had been dead four days stood before Him alive. Did this come about by the command of the life-giver or His prayer? He cried with a loud voice, again on account of the bystanders, since He could have raised him not only by using His normal voice, but just by His will alone. In the same way, He could have done it from afar and with the stone in place. But instead He came to the grave and spoke to those present, who took away the stone and smelt the stench. Then He cried with a loud voice. He raised him in this manner so that by means of their sight (for they saw Him standing at the grave), their sense of smell (for they were aware of the stench of the man four days dead), their sense of touch (for they used their own hands to take away the stone beforehand from the grave, and afterwards to loose the grave-clothes from his body and the napkin from his face), and their hearing (for the Lord’s voice reached the ears of all), they all might understand and believe that it was He who called everything from non-being into being, who upheld all things by the word of His power, and who in the beginning by His word alone made everything that exists out of nothing.

The simple people believed Him in every respect, and did not keep their faith quiet, but began to preach His divinity by deeds and words. After the raising of Lazarus on the fourth day, the Lord found an ass, and, when His disciples had made it ready, as the evangelist Matthew tells us (Mt. 21:1-11), He sat upon it and entered Jerusalem, as had been foretold in Zechariah’s prophecy: Do not fear, O daughter of Zion: behold thy king cometh unto thee: he is just and having salvation; lowly, and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt the foal of an ass (Zech. 9:9; Mt. 21:5). The prophet shows by these words that this king in the prophecy is the only true king of Zion. “Your king,” he says, “does not arouse fear in those who see him. Nor is he an oppressor or an evildoer accompanied by shield-bearers and spear men, trailing behind him a host of foot-soldiers and cavalry, passing his life in greed for gain, demanding taxes and tributes, and unpleasant and harmful labors and services. By contrast, His banner is humility, poverty and lowliness, and He enters mounted upon an ass, without any human pretensions at all. He is the only righteous King who righteously saves. He is meek, and meekness is His distinctive work.” The Lord said of Himself, Learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart (Mt. 11:29).

So the King who had raised Lazarus from the dead entered Jerusalem sitting upon an ass. Everyone, children, men, old people, immediately spread their garments in the way. They took palm-branches, which are symbols of victory, and went to meet Him as the life-giver and victor over death. They fell at His feet and escorted Him in procession, singing together, not just outside but also inside the precincts of the Temple, Hosanna to the Son of David, Hosanna in the highest (Mt. 21:9). “Hosanna” is a song of praise directed to God, which means, “Save us.” The additional words “in the highest” show that He is not only praised on earth, nor only by men, but also by the heavenly angels on high.

The people not only sang His praises and called Him God, but they subsequently opposed the scribes and Pharisees’ evil purpose against God and their murderous allegations. For the latter were mad enough to say of Him, “This man is not of God, and since he doeth many miracles, if we let him thus alone and do not put him to death, all men will believe on him: and the Romans shall come and take away both our place and nation” (compare Jn. 9:16 and 11:47-48). But what did the people say? Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord: Blessed be the kingdom of our father David that cometh (Mk. 11:9-10). By saying, “Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord,” they showed that He was from God the Father and that He came in the name of the Father. As the Lord said of Himself, I came in the name of my Father (compare Jn. 5:43) and I proceeded forth and came from God (Jn. 8:42). On the other hand, by saying, “Blessed be the kingdom of our father David that cometh,” they showed that this was the kingdom in which, according to prophecy, the Gentiles too, and indeed the Romans, were to believe. For this king was not just Israel’s hope, but also the expectation of the Gentiles, according to Jacob’s prophecy: Binding his foal unto the vine, where “foal” refers to the Jewish people who were subject to Him, and his ass’s colt unto the branch of the vine (Gen. 49:11). The branch of the vine is the Lord’s disciples, for the Lord said to them, I am the vine, ye are the branches (Jn. 15.5). By this branch, the Lord binds to Himself His “ass’s colt,” namely the New Israel of the Gentiles, who become sons of Abraham by grace. If, asked the people, this kingdom in which we have put our faith is the hope of the Gentiles too, why should we fear the Romans?

Those who were childlike in innocence but not in intelligence were inspired by the Holy Spirit to offer up to the Lord a faultlessly perfect hymn, and bore witness that, as God, He had brought Lazarus back to life after he had been dead for four days. When the scribes and Pharisees, on the other hand, “saw the wonderful things that he did, and the children crying in the Temple and saying, Hosanna to the Son of David, they were sore displeased and said unto the Lord, Hearest thou what they say?” (Mt. 21:15-16). In fact, it would have been more appropriate for the Lord to put the same question to them, Can you not see, or hear or understand? To refute those who were complaining that He tolerated songs of praise that were fitting for God alone, He replied, Yes, I hear those who, invisibly enlightened by Myself, declare such things about me. But these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out. Have you never read the prophecy that, ‘Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise’? (Ps. 8:2; Mt. 21:16). This was another amazing fact, that simple, uneducated children should speak perfectly of the divinity of God made man for our sake, and that their voices should take up the angelic hymn. At the Lord’s birth the angels sang, Glory to God in the highest (Lk. 21:4), and now at the time of His entry into Jerusalem the children offered up the same hymn, Hosanna to the Son of David, Hosanna in the highest (Mt. 21:29).

Let us all, young and old, rulers and subjects, be childlike in innocence, that God may empower us to make a public show of the trophies, and carry aloft the symbols of victory, not just of victory over the evil passions, but over visible and invisible enemies, and may we find the grace of the word to help in time of need (compare Heb. 4:16). The young colt which the Lord deigned to ride for our sake prefigured, although it was only one, the Gentiles’ obedience to Him and we, governors and governed alike, are all Gentiles come from them.

In Christ Jesus there is neither male nor female, nor Greek, nor Jew, but all, according to the holy apostle, are one (Gal. 3:28). In the same way, in Him there is neither ruler nor subject, but by His grace we are all one in faith in Him, and belong to one body, His Church, whose head He is. By the grace of the all-holy Spirit we have all drunk of the one Spirit, and have all received on e baptism. We all have one hope and one God, who is above all, and through all, and in us all (Eph. 4:6). So let us love one another. Let us bear with one another, seeing that we are members one of another. As the Lord Himself said, the sign that we are His disciples is love. When He departed from this world, the fatherly inheritance He left us was love, and the last prayer He gave us when He ascended to His Father was about love for one another (Jn. 13:33-35).

Let us strive to attain to this fatherly prayer and let us not lose the inheritance He left us nor the sign He gave us, lest we should also lose our sonship, our blessing and our discipleship. If that happens, we shall fall away from the promised hope and be shut out of the spiritual bridechamber. Before His saving passion, when the Lord entered the earthly Jerusalem, not just the people, but also the true rulers of the Gentiles, the Lord’s apostles, spread their garments in His way. In the same manner, let us all, rulers as well as subjects, lay down our natural garments before Him, by making our flesh and its impulses subject to the spirit, that we may be made worthy not only to see and worship Christ’s saving passion and holy resurrection, but to enjoy communion with Him. For if, says the apostle, we have been planted together in the likeness of his death, we shall be also in the likeness of his resurrection (Rom. 6.5).

To which may we all attain by the grace and love towards mankind of our Lord and God and Savior Jesus Christ, to whom belong all glory, honor and worship, together with His Father without beginning and the life-giving Spirit, now and for ever and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

St. Gregory Palamas

April12/April25

The Monk Isaac the Syrian (560)

The Monk Isaac the Syrian lived during the mid-VI Century. He arrived in the Italian city of Spoleto from Syria. The monk asked permission of the church wardens to remain in the temple and he prayed in it for all of two and an half days. One of the church wardens began to reproach the monk with hypocrisy and struck him on the cheek. The punishment of God then befell the church warden. The devil threw him down at the feet of the saint and cried out: "Isaac, cast me out!" Just as the monk bent over the man, the unclean spirit fled.

News about the occurrence quickly spread throughout the city. People began to throng to the monk, offering him help and the means for building a monastery. But the humble monk refused all this. He left the city and settled in a desolate place, where he built himself a small cell. Around the ascetic gathered disciples, and thus was formed a monastery. When his disciples inquired of the elder, why he had shunned the gifts, he answered: "A monk in acquiring possessions is no longer a monk".

The Monk Isaac was endowed with the gift of perspicacity. About this Saint Gregory Dialogus (Comm. 12 March) relates in his "Conversations about the Lives and Miracles of the Italian Fathers". One time the Monk Isaac bid the monks to leave behind their spades in the garden for the night, and in the morning he asked them to prepare food for the workers. It seems that robbers, as many as there were spades left behind, had come to rob the monastery. The power of God forced them to change their evil intent. They took in hand the spades and began ardently to work, such that at the arrival of the monks all the ground had been dug up. The monk greeted the toilers and invited them to refresh themselves with food. Then he gave them an admonition to quit their thievery, and gave them permission always to come openly and make use of the fruits of the monastery garden. Another time there came to the monk wanderers, attired in rags, and they besought clothing of the saint. He bid them to wait a bit, and sent a monk into the forest, where in the hollow of a tree the wanderers had hidden their fine clothes, wanting to deceive the holy hegumen. The monk dispatched brought back the clothes, and the Monk Isaac gave them to the wanderers. Seeing, that their fraud was uncovered, the moochers fell into great distress and shame. It happened likewise, that a certain man sent the monk his servant with two baskets of food. The servant hid one of these baskets along the way. The monk took the offered basket and quietly said: "I accept the gifts, but thou however ought not to touch the basket hidden by thee – into it has creeped a snake, and if thou reach out thy hand, it wilt bite thee". Thus wisely and without malice the saint unmasked the sins of people, desiring salvation for all. The Monk Isaac died in the year 550. This saint mustneeds be distinguished from another ascetic, the Monk Isaac the Syrian, Bishop of Ninevah, who lived during the VII Century (Comm. 28 January).

John 12:1-18

1 Then, six days before the Passover, Jesus came to Bethany, where Lazarus was who had been dead, whom He had raised from the dead.2There they made Him a supper; and Martha served, but Lazarus was one of those who sat at the table with Him.3Then Mary took a pound of very costly oil of spikenard, anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped His feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil.4 But one of His disciples, Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, who would betray Him, said,5Why was this fragrant oil not sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?6 This he said, not that he cared for the poor, but because he was a thief, and had the money box; and he used to take what was put in it.7 But Jesus said, "Let her alone; she has kept this for the day of My burial.8 For the poor you have with you always, but Me you do not have always. 9 Now a great many of the Jews knew that He was there; and they came, not for Jesus' sake only, but that they might also see Lazarus, whom He had raised from the dead.10But the chief priests plotted to put Lazarus to death also,

11 because on account of him many of the Jews went away and believed in Jesus.12The next day a great multitude that had come to the feast, when they heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem,13 took branches of palm trees and went out to meet Him, and cried out: Hosanna! 'Blessed is He who comes in the name of the LORD!' The King of Israel!"14Then Jesus, when He had found a young donkey, sat on it; as it is written: 15Fear not, daughter of Zion; Behold, your King is coming, Sitting on a donkey's colt."16 His disciples did not understand these things at first; but when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered that these things were written about Him and that they had done these things to Him.17 Therefore the people, who were with Him when He called Lazarus out of his tomb and raised him from the dead, bore witness.18 For this reason the people also met Him, because they heard that He had done this sign.

Philippians 4:4-9

4Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, rejoice! 5 Let your gentleness be known to all men. The Lord is at hand. 6 Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; 7 and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.8 Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy - meditate on these things .9The things which you learned and received and heard and saw in me, these do, and the God of peace will be with you.

#orthodoxy #orthodoxchristianity #ancientchristianity #originofchristianity #spirituality #holyscriptures #gospel #wisdom

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noona-clock · 5 years

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Expectations - Part 8, Final Chapter

Genre: College/Roommates!AU – Pure Fluff

Pairing: Hanbin x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 | Words: 2,493

It had been several months since that first date.

They had been months filled with countless kisses, movie nights, date nights, meals together, text messages, heart emojis. Filled with eye rolls, frustrated sighs, silent treatments (on his part, not yours), door slams.

As it turned out, being in a relationship with your roommate was not as easy as you’d thought (or hoped). Or maybe it was just the fact that Hanbin was your roommate, and being in a relationship with Hanbin wasn’t as easy as you’d thought. He still had trouble opening up to you, and his preferred way of letting you know he was upset was by just not talking to you. Even if you weren’t the thing upsetting him.

You’d spent many hours trying to pry words out of him, and after all that time and effort, he still wasn’t any better about communicating with you.

But... it was all worth it.

Because the good times far, far outweighed the bad, and it’s not like they were even bad times. They were just difficult. But what relationship was ever easy all the time?

Besides, Hanbin always apologized for being a jerk and thanked you for trying to help him. That helped ease the sting of his silent treatments.

The first time you spent apart from each other was during your university’s winter break. You had flown home for Christmas and New Year’s, and Hanbin had gone to visit his family about two hours away from school.

You had missed him terribly, of course, but one day in-between the two holidays, Hanbin had texted you an audio file out of the blue. The two of you hadn’t been messaging too much since you were both busy with your respective families, but... apparently, Hanbin had also been busy with something else.

When you pressed play, you quickly realized it was a song. A new song. You’d heard all of his songs at this point (including the one he wrote on the day he’d realized his feelings for you -- the lyrics were all about you being his ideal type of girl, and you had almost cried when you’d first listened to it), but the opening music playing now was unfamiliar to you.

As you listened, you heard Hanbin singing and rapping, asking you what you were doing. Talking about how much he missed you and thought about you and dreamed about you.

Unsurprisingly, tears had filled your eyes by the end of the song, and you immediately started writing a message back to him.

But not just any message.

Since he had expressed his feelings the best way he knew how -- through a song -- you would express yours the best way you knew how -- in a list.

You fervently typed out a bulleted list of all the things you missed about him right at that very moment:

His smile

Specifically, his lips

And more specifically, his kisses

The feeling of his arms around you

The feeling of your hand in his

The smell of his shampoo

The sight of him doing push-ups in his room

The way he curses when you’re cooking something particularly yummy smelling

The adoring look he gets on his face when his younger sister calls him

The way he says your name

The way he comes up behind you and hugs you and kisses your shoulder

The way he always lets you sleep in his room when you wake up in the middle of the night for whatever reason

And the way he sometimes comes into your room because he just knows you can’t sleep

There had only been two other thunderstorms since you’d officially started dating, and Hanbin had effectively calmed you down during both of them. He’d held you tightly, rubbed your back, kissed your forehead, whispered comforting words to you.

The whole three weeks you were home, you had been checking the weather for your flight back. If you had to fly through a storm... honestly, you would just need to reschedule. You were pretty positive you couldn’t fly by yourself if there were thunder and lightning and pouring rain outside.

Up until the day you left, the chance of bad weather seemed slim to none.

But, all of a sudden, as you sat at the airport waiting to board, you saw there was now a 40% chance of storms right around the time you would be landing.

You texted Hanbin, of course, and he assured you it would be fine. If the forecast could change that quickly, it could change again just as quickly. Plus, he would be there to pick you up, so if it was storming when you landed, you wouldn’t have to spend that much time by yourself.

You spent the entire flight gripping the arms of your seat and bouncing your right leg anxiously. You felt terrible for the person sitting next to you, but they ended up falling asleep not even ten minutes in.

After a grueling few hours, you let out the longest sigh of relief when the plane touched down. You immediately fished your phone out and turned it back on, navigating to your messages and typing one out to Hanbin to let him know you’d just landed.

He replied back immediately with a heart emoji, and before you could ask if he was already at the airport waiting, he sent another message telling you just that.

He knew you so well.

As soon as you were able, you grabbed your carry-on bag, followed your fellow passengers off the plane, and booked it to the arrivals lobby.

It had been three full weeks since you’d seen your boyfriend, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been so excited to see someone.

...Oh, god. Now you felt guilty because you’d just visited your family for the first time in months, and you hadn’t been this anxious to see them.

Well. Nothing you could do about it now!

You swerved around people, weaving through the crowd until you finally reached the arrivals lobby, your eyes searching for that familiar handsome face, that familiar smile.

When your eyes locked on just that face, your lips curved into a huge grin and you let out a soft squeal. You gripped the handle of your suitcase tightly as you broke out into a run, not wanting to drop the thing on your way over there.

Hanbin, too, started making his way to you, and in just a few seconds, you practically knocked him over when you threw your arms around his neck.

You heard him chuckle softly as he returned your embrace, and in a moment of passion, you let go of your suitcase and pushed yourself off the ground, wrapping your legs around his middle.

“Whoa, hey,” he laughed, though he instantly held onto you tighter, his fingers gripping your waist.

“God, I missed you,” you sighed, pressing your forehead to his and closing your eyes.

“Three weeks is a long time,” he murmured.

You felt him tilt his head right before you felt his lips capture yours, and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling into the kiss.

“I missed you, too,” he whispered against your lips.

You then pulled away so you could place a kiss on his cheek and his chin and his nose and his eyelid and his forehead and any other available inch of his face. His skin got warmer the more you kissed him, and he finally squeezed you before trying to squirm away from your affections.

“Come on, let’s go home,” he chuckled.

...Home.

You had only lived there for six months, but strangely enough, it did feel like home.

Maybe... Okay, this is going to sound really cheesy, but maybe it felt like home because... Hanbin was there.

You let yourself drop back down to the floor, though you almost immediately replaced your legs with your arms, clinging to him as he took your suitcase and headed for the airport exit.

You had discovered very quickly that Hanbin, despite his somewhat aloof exterior, was a sucker for affection. He especially loved when you hugged him and slid your hands into his back pockets, though really any sort of touching would do for him. He was a fan of it all.

“Did it storm at all on the plane?” he asked as the two of you strolled out to the parking lot.

You shook your head, humming negatively... but you eyed the dark gray clouds up in the sky warily.

Hanbin squeezed your shoulders and kissed your temple. “We’ll get home before it starts, I promise,” he told you quietly.

And, as if Hanbin really was able to control the weather, the second you set foot inside your dorm was the second the rain began. There had been a few fat droplets on the windshield here and there on the way home, but now that you were safely inside, it came down in buckets.

“It’s just rain,” you said softly when Hanbin threw you a ‘are you going to be okay?’ look. “I’m going to go unpack.”

Your boyfriend simply nodded and headed off to his own room.

You lugged your suitcase up onto your bed, unzipping it and grabbing the dirty clothes. You threw them in your laundry hamper as you tried to ignore the pouring rain tapping violently on your window.

It was fine. It was just rain! Just rain was not a thunderstorm, so you were --

A flash of lightning lit up your room briefly, and before the thunder even had a chance to follow it, you had rushed into Hanbin’s room.

He was there waiting practically with open arms, standing by the edge of his bed and pulling you into his embrace as soon as you arrived.

“I’m sorry,” you said breathlessly, your brow furrowed with guilt. “Maybe one day I won’t be so --”

Hanbin simply lifted one hand and pressed a finger to your lips.

“Haven’t I told you to stop apologizing every time it storms?” he murmured, though the look in his eyes was one of pure affection.

Yes. He had. Every single time.

And yet... you still did.

“Come here,” he whispered, keeping his hold on you firm as he turned you away from his bed.

“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice already shaky as you heard the wind whistling through the trees outside.

“Just come here,” Hanbin chuckled. He held your shoulders, walking behind you and guiding you to... his closet?

It was then you noticed that all of his recording equipment was on the floor by his bathroom door, and you looked back and forth between the closet door and the small pile of audio appliances.

“Wha --”

But Hanbin had reached around you and opened the door to his closet before you could finish your question.

When you saw what was inside, your breath caught in your throat. Your jaw dropped slightly, your lips parting in surprise.

Instead of his usual slapdash recording studio, his closet now housed some soft blankets, a few pillows, a lantern, and the soundproof padding.

“We can sleep in here tonight,” Hanbin murmured.

...He had set up camp inside his closet. His soundproof closet. Just for you.

You whirled around to face him, your eyes filled to the brim with tears. “You... did this for me?” you asked, your voice watery and choked with emotion.

Hanbin raised his hands and cradled your cheeks in his palms, his eyes gazing at you with complete and utter adoration. “Yeah, of course,” he whispered. “I kept checking the forecast, and I wanted to be ready.”

You stood on your toes to kiss him, but a loud crack of thunder made you jump.

“Come on, get in there,” he chuckled, turning you around and herding you in.

You were all too happy to get under the blankets, burrow into the pillows, and close yourself in this tiny, dark space. Because once Hanbin shut the door completely, the sound of the driving rain was totally erased. You wouldn’t be able to hear the rain or thunder, you wouldn’t be able to see the lightning.

For all intents and purposes, the storm didn’t even exist anymore.

As soon as Hanbin settled under the blankets next to you, you scooted as close to him as you could and pressed your lips to his.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “I can’t think of anything more thoughtful. Nobody’s ever done something like this for me before.”

“Good,” he replied, making you laugh softly in confusion.

“Good? What do you mean?”

“It’s good that nobody has ever done something this thoughtful for you before because that means... nobody has ever loved you like I do.”

For the second time in a span of just a few minutes, your breath caught in your throat. But before you could say anything, Hanbin lifted a hand and smoothed your hair back from your forehead. He leaned in and kissed one of your eyelids.

He whispered, “I love you.”

You couldn’t stop a wide, giddy grin from appearing on your lips, and you replied softly, “I love you, too.”

Hanbin enveloped you in his arms then, tucking you underneath his chin and holding you as if you could still hear the storm outside. He gripped you tightly, he rubbed your back, he tangled his legs with yours.

But instead of whispering ‘it’s okay, you’ll be all right, I’m here’ into your ear, you heard ‘I missed you so much, I’m so glad you’re back, I love you’ instead.

Which was much more preferable.

As you settled into your boyfriend’s arms, curling up against his chest and pressing your ear to him so you could hear his heartbeat, you couldn’t remember a time you’d felt more at peace.

Even though there was a storm raging right outside your window, you had never been less anxious in your life.

You weren’t thinking about all the times Hanbin frustrated you or all the times he would frustrate you in the future. You weren’t thinking about all the thunderstorms which hadn’t happened yet, all your upcoming classes and the grades you had yet to earn. You weren’t wondering how long your relationship with Hanbin would last. Until the end of the school year? The end of university? The end of time?

You weren’t even thinking about how, just a handful of months ago, you never would’ve been able to imagine this would happen. It wasn’t even crossing your mind that you had set an expectation for your first year of college, for your new roommate, for everything, and how things had turned out so differently than you’d thought they would.

Right here, right now, you were only thinking of how happy you were. How loved you felt. How content and satisfied and comfortable and lucky you were.

And how ridiculously, deliriously, crazily in love you were with Hanbin.

Because that’s all that really mattered right now.

Right now, and forever.

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roman-catholic-mass-readings · 4 years

Photo

24th October >> Mass Readings (Except USA) Saturday, Twenty Ninth Week in Ordinary Time

Saint Antony Mary Claret, Bishop

Saturday memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Saturday, Twenty Ninth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Green)

First Reading

Ephesians 4:7-16

By grace, we shall not be children any longer

Each one of us has been given his own share of grace, given as Christ allotted it. It was said that he would:

When he ascended to the height, he captured prisoners,

he gave gifts to men.

When it says, ‘he ascended’, what can it mean if not that he descended right down to the lower regions of the earth? The one who rose higher than all the heavens to fill all things is none other than the one who descended. And to some, his gift was that they should be apostles; to some, prophets; to some, evangelists; to some, pastors and teachers; so that the saints together make a unity in the work of service, building up the body of Christ. In this way we are all to come to unity in our faith and in our knowledge of the Son of God, until we become the perfect Man, fully mature with the fullness of Christ himself.

Then we shall not be children any longer, or tossed one way and another and carried along by every wind of doctrine, at the mercy of all the tricks men play and their cleverness in practising deceit. If we live by the truth and in love, we shall grow in all ways into Christ, who is the head by whom the whole body is fitted and joined together, every joint adding its own strength, for each separate part to work according to its function. So the body grows until it has built itself up, in love.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 121(122):1-5

R/ I rejoiced when I heard them say: ‘Let us go to God’s house.’

I rejoiced when I heard them say:

‘Let us go to God’s house.’

And now our feet are standing

within your gates, O Jerusalem.

R/ I rejoiced when I heard them say: ‘Let us go to God’s house.’

Jerusalem is built as a city

strongly compact.

It is there that the tribes go up,

the tribes of the Lord.

R/ I rejoiced when I heard them say: ‘Let us go to God’s house.’

For Israel’s law it is,

there to praise the Lord’s name.

There were set the thrones of judgement

of the house of David.

R/ I rejoiced when I heard them say: ‘Let us go to God’s house.’

Gospel Acclamation

Psalm 144:13

Alleluia, alleluia!

The Lord is faithful in all his words

and loving in all his deeds.

Alleluia!

Or:

Ezekiel 33:11

Alleluia, alleluia!

I take pleasure, not in the death of a wicked man,

says the Lord,

but in the turning back of a wicked man

who changes his ways to win life.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Luke 13:1-9

'Leave the fig tree one more year'

Some people arrived and told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with that of their sacrifices. At this he said to them, ‘Do you suppose these Galileans who suffered like that were greater sinners than any other Galileans? They were not, I tell you. No; but unless you repent you will all perish as they did. Or those eighteen on whom the tower at Siloam fell and killed them? Do you suppose that they were more guilty than all the other people living in Jerusalem? They were not, I tell you. No; but unless you repent you will all perish as they did.’

He told this parable: ‘A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard, and he came looking for fruit on it but found none. He said to the man who looked after the vineyard, “Look here, for three years now I have been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and finding none. Cut it down: why should it be taking up the ground?” “Sir,” the man replied “leave it one more year and give me time to dig round it and manure it: it may bear fruit next year; if not, then you can cut it down.”’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

—————————

Saint Antony Mary Claret, Bishop

(Liturgical Colour: White)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Saturday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

Isaiah 52:7-10

Rejoice, for the Lord is consoling his people

How beautiful on the mountains,

are the feet of one who brings good news,

who heralds peace, brings happiness,

proclaims salvation,

and tells Zion,

‘Your God is king!’

Listen! Your watchmen raise their voices,

they shout for joy together,

for they see the Lord face to face,

as he returns to Zion.

Break into shouts of joy together,

you ruins of Jerusalem;

for the Lord is consoling his people,

redeeming Jerusalem.

The Lord bares his holy arm

in the sight of all the nations,

and all the ends of the earth shall see

the salvation of our God.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 95(96):1-3,7-8,10

R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.

O sing a new song to the Lord,

sing to the Lord all the earth.

O sing to the Lord, bless his name.

R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.

Proclaim his help day by day,

tell among the nations his glory

and his wonders among all the peoples.

R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.

Give the Lord, you families of peoples,

give the Lord glory and power;

give the Lord the glory of his name.

R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.

Proclaim to the nations: ‘God is king.’

The world he made firm in its place;

he will judge the peoples in fairness.

R/ Proclaim the wonders of the Lord among all the peoples.

Gospel Acclamation

Mark 1:17

Alleluia, alleluia!

Follow me, says the Lord,

and I will make you into fishers of men.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Mark 1:14-20

I will make you into fishers of men

After John had been arrested, Jesus went into Galilee. There he proclaimed the Good News from God. ‘The time has come’ he said ‘and the kingdom of God is close at hand. Repent, and believe the Good News.’

As he was walking along by the Sea of Galilee he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net in the lake – for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, ‘Follow me and I will make you into fishers of men.’ And at once they left their nets and followed him.

Going on a little further, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John; they too were in their boat, mending their nets. He called them at once and, leaving their father Zebedee in the boat with the men he employed, they went after him.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

————————

Saturday memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary

(Liturgical Colour: White)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Saturday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

Genesis 3:9-15,20

The mother of all those who live

After Adam had eaten of the tree the Lord God called to him. ‘Where are you?’ he asked. ‘I heard the sound of you in the garden;’ he replied ‘I was afraid because I was naked, so I hid.’ ‘Who told you that you were naked?’ he asked ‘Have you been eating of the tree I forbade you to eat?’ The man replied, ‘It was the woman you put with me; she gave me the fruit, and I ate it.’ Then the Lord God asked the woman, ‘What is this you have done?’ The woman replied, ‘The serpent tempted me and I ate.’

Then the Lord God said to the serpent, ‘Because you have done this,

‘Be accursed beyond all cattle,

all wild beasts.

You shall crawl on your belly and eat dust

every day of your life.

I will make you enemies of each other:

you and the woman,

your offspring and her offspring.

It will crush your head

and you will strike its heel.’

The man named his wife ‘Eve’ because she was the mother of all those who live.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

1 Samuel 2:1,4-8

R/ My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

My heart exults in the Lord.

I find my strength in my God;

my mouth laughs at my enemies

as I rejoice in your saving help.

R/ My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

The bows of the mighty are broken,

but the weak are clothed with strength.

Those with plenty must labour for bread,

but the hungry need work no more.

The childless wife has children now

but the fruitful wife bears no more.

R/ My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

It is the Lord who gives life and death,

he brings men to the grave and back;

it is the Lord who gives poverty and riches.

He brings men low and raises them on high.

R/ My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

He lifts up the lowly from the dust,

from the dungheap he raises the poor

to set him in the company of princes

to give him a glorious throne.

For the pillars of the earth are the Lord’s,

on them he has set the world.

R/ My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

Gospel Acclamation

cf. Luke 1:28

Alleluia, alleluia!

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee!

Blessed art thou among women.

Alleluia!

Or:

cf. Luke 1:45

Alleluia, alleluia!

Blessed is the Virgin Mary, who believed

that the promise made her by the Lord would be fulfilled.

Alleluia!

Or:

cf. Luke 2:19

Alleluia, alleluia!

Blessed is the Virgin Mary,

who treasured the word of God

and pondered it in her heart.

Alleluia!

Or:

Luke 11:28

Alleluia, alleluia!

Happy are those

who hear the word of God

and keep it.

Alleluia!

Or:

Alleluia, alleluia!

Blessed are you, holy Virgin Mary,

and most worthy of all praise,

for the sun of justice, Christ our God,

was born of you.

Alleluia!

Or:

Alleluia, alleluia!

Happy is the Virgin Mary,

who, without dying,

won the palm of martyrdom

beneath the cross of the Lord.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Matthew 12:46-50

My mother and my brothers are anyone who does the will of my Father in heaven

Jesus was speaking to the crowds when his mother and his brothers appeared; they were standing outside and were anxious to have a word with him. But to the man who told him this Jesus replied, ‘Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?’ And stretching out his hand towards his disciples he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers. Anyone who does the will of my Father in heaven, he is my brother and sister and mother.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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judgement-free-sideblog · 5 years

Text

Dancing lessons

Barry Berkman x reader

Summary: Barry is finally cast in a feature, the problem? He said he could dance and now he can either disappoint Sally or found a way to learn some steps.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, violence, guns, cheating maybe.

Part 1 ● Part 2 ● Part 3 ● Part 4 ● Part 5 ● Part 6 ● Part 7 ● Part 8 ● Epilogue

Part 2

One week after the first time Barry meet Y/N he was nowhere near learning tango, let alone dancing on the level his stupid resume said he could, he only have ended with horrible pain on his knees, thighs and back. And he hasn't even practice dancing with music yet, apparently his instructor thought he first had to learn one basic step and repeat it a million times before he could start doing the "flashy and presumptuous" step, as she called them, that the director may want.

"You really don't have to worry" Sally said during breakfast, they have an agreement to spend the night at least twice a week in each other apartment but he could tell she rather if he stayed at hers since Jermaine and Nick didn't get along with her. "That girl you say is dancing with you, I just heard from Lindsay that she is totally sleeping with the director so probably the scene is an excuse to show her dancing talent and they will be focusing on her instead of you" She drank the rest of her orange juice and stood up quickly "God is so late" she checked her phone and gave him a kiss on the cheek before taking her purse and keys and rush to the door "I'll see you tonight ok? Good luck!"

"Bye, I love..." And then she was gone. "You" He finished his breakfast and took his own car to the studio where he had to finish filming his scenes.

"Barry you're here, excellent!" Andre said when he arrived, thankfully he was not the star of the film and he didn't have to listen the hundred of notes he had for the leads nor taking all the shit the PAs get from him. "Look" He said pointing at his tablet "Janice is on New York for three more weeks for a Ballet presentation, but she sent this to me, is the perfect choreography for the scene. What do you think?" He showed her a clip of Janice and some professional dancer with a song he didn't knew, probably in Spanish or Italian, dancing incredibly close, with several lifts and spins.

"Great" He said feeling dizzy "Flashy and presumptuous" He add really low.

"What was that?"

"Classy and marvelous, is a modern take on the Argentine style isn't?" He said repeating what Y/N had said to him the day before.

"I have no idea, but hey you are the expert" He gave him a pat on the back. "You can start rehearsing with Janice when she gets back" He didn't like that kind of touching, it reminded him of Fuches and make him feel uneasy.

"Sure, great, hey could you send me that video, you know to study her movements" he tried to sound casual and not frightened as he was.

"Yeah sure" he said and with a hand gesture urged him to move to the set where he got to start shooting.

The minute he was over he drove back to Y/N's studio and saw her giving her class to young girls all dressed as ballerinas, she was wearing a black seetrough dancing skirt over a leotard, and his eyes lingered on her legs a few seconds more than he should mesmerized as he was by the elegance she used to dance.

"Barry you are early" She saluted him with a smile, "Girls say hi to Mr. Block" she said at the mass of pink and white.

"Hi Mr. Block" They cheered.

"I'll be done in a few minutes but this really is a private rehearsal" She pat her lips with one finger thinking "Would you mind waiting upstairs? I mean I would hate for you to drive back home to come back in less than an hour, and the coffee place on this block sucks" She said and the girls start laughing "Don't tell your mothers" She quickly add.

"I don't want to be a burden"

"Oh nonsense, you are not, go upstairs, I have food on the fridge but I wouldn't recommend it since you are dancing later and the WiFi password is written next to the phone" She insisted and he finally accept.

The apartment was just a little bigger than the one he rented with Jermaine and had a nice walls on a blue shade that reminded him of the ocean. And a big window facing directly to the door, so the first thing you see when you entered were the rooftop of other buildings and the hills in the back.

He entered feeling himself as an intruder, but being honest that was a common feeling for him, even if he haven't break in any place in over a year, a very long year, and again the pain of thinking of Fuches maybe lurking around strike him in the chest.

He found a place to sit and after being 5 minutes in complete silence trying to not be alone with his thoughts he took out his laptop to watch the dance again. Next to the landline was a nice picture of Y/N on his wedding dress next to a man that must be her husband with golden letters and numbers written over: JPTLV150813.

Once he was connected he allow himself to look around, the living room was tastefully decorated and there were some framed paintings of wild flowers on the wall in purples and pinks. He glance at their dinner table in the other room next to her kitchen, and while he was still holding he picture his mind start wandering, maybe Sally would like to live with him in a place like that. Full of light and peaceful.

He picture himself waking every morning and walking towards the kitchen to make her breakfast, she getting out of the set exhausted, to get a glass of wine in the living room. Reading lines together in the couch, and falling asleep there watching a movie.

And then since he hadn't sleep wery well and Y/N couch was madly comfortable he fall asleep still holding the picture and suddenly Sally's face start fading away, and Y/N replaced her, in a blue version of the clothes she was wearing earlier, he saw himself dancing with her on the living room, a slow and romantic rhythm, and instead of her husband it was him smiling on the picture next to the phone. She would come upstairs tired from work and he would stop her at the door to give her a passionate kiss... then the sound of a gun going off came from the window and a blood stain start forming in her chest running and she collapsing on his arms, and then it was Sally lifeless body again who he was holding and she whispered before losing her breath You did this and fearful he looked at his own hand holding the gun...

"Barry?" Y/N's voice came from the door, and immediately woke up and shake those horrifying ideas from his mind.

"Here" He call from the couch and was careful enough to not look back and don't picture her covered in blood

"I'm so done, boy I'm glad you came upstairs, Amanda's mother is a pain in the ass, if she have seen you she would have called the cops or something" She said and sit in next of him, she was already wearing the heels she used to practice with him. "What you got there?" She said looking at the screen where the video of Janice was still on.

"Is the dance I'm supposed to do for the movie" He said glad to have something to said and he showed her the clip.

"Well... you are screwed" She said after it was finish and he gave her an imploring look. "I'm kidding, I mean is a monstrosity of showing off, and her technique is not perfect, but I'm pretty sure you can put together something, like Ed Sheeran on Thinking out loud". She said confidently.

"Who?" He asked with no idea of what she meant.

"He is a British singer, we are probably too old to know him, but couples come all the time trying to learn his routine for their wedding" She said, but his face was still puzzled "You are not very familiar with pop culture, for an actor living in L.A. I mean" She stood up and walked towards her kitchen "Do you want anything? I have wine, beer, orange juice?" She called from the other room.

"Beer is fine, and is because I only became an actor recently" He said with some embarrassment in his voice taking the bottleshe offered him "I used to amm... sell auto parts in Cleveland"

"Ohio, that's ... far" she said taking a sip of her drink.

"And before that I was a Marine" He add and she almost spit her beer but did her best to pass it down.

"Oh wow, that's unusual. I would definitely say thank you for your service, but I'm antiwar so what if I gave you a 10 percent off on the lessons and we call it even?" She grin at him

"Don't worry about that, I don't like to make a big deal about it anyway" He said sincerely "Also I'm pretty sure you are wasting your time with me"

"Don't be so harsh on yourself, here look" She took the laptop off his hands and found a video of a ginger man singing a cheezy song about eternal love "See he is not properly dancing, but he act like he is, so first you have to learn how to lead, come on take off your shoes"

"Take them off? Why?" He asked while she got rid off her heels and let her bare feet touch the wooden floor.

"Because, and I mean this with respect" She said standing and looking for a record to put in her old record player until she found one "You are huge, and I'm afraid you would step on me with those shoes" a slow rhythm start playing and he did what she asked and stood barefoot in front of her.

"That doesn't sound like the other songs" Although he like it.

"Because you have to learn to walk before you can run, now, put both of your hands on my hips" She said getting closer to him.

"Like this?" It was funny how without the heels she was way shorter and couldn't completely reach her neck so she settled for put both hands on his shoulders.

"Fine now listen to the music and move" She said moving her body rhythmically "There you go, now move me, lead, right or left, is your choice" She said letting him take small steps and occasionally looking down to watch his feet.

"This is not that bad actually" Barry was actually enjoying himself, then the music start going faster and she took his right hand on hers and pull away from him and he chose to ignore the feeling of lost that caused him.

"Now, the hand on my back has to be steady, and lead, we can spin" She said and taught him how "Or we can walk" She started walking back slowly letting him follow the steps at his own pace. "Is all about who is leading" She gave him a smile and they kept dancing until the music was ending and since he had confidence now he make her spin and catch her on his arm like Janice's partner did on the clip.

"Sorry I always wanted to try that" he said once she was standing next to him.

"It was great, you are getting it, now we can try to improve your actual steps, but we should go downstairs, my husband is about to comeback and he hates having music on when he is working" She put on her shoes again and walked out followed by Barry.

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