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#i miss the sense of urgency that drawing before my flight gave me

writingsofmyimagination · 5 years

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King and Queen

Summary: Jungkook becomes very needy before he goes on tour and becomes even more desperate when he gets back (Part 1 of a 2 Shot)

Jungkook x Reader

Words:1988

Warnings:Smut, Sub/Jungkook, Dom Reader, Light bondage, Ice Play, Thigh Riding.

Happy Reading :)

//Charlie Puth – Attention// you groggily rolled over and reached blindly in the darkness towards the way too bright light of your phone.

“This better be important Kook, its 2am” frustration seeping through your drowsiness causing your brows to furrow.

“Please come over” the bright wide-eyed voice asked politely. Sighing to yourself before continuing with your response

“I saw you like 4 hours ago, and you have to be up at 6am to catch your flight; don’t you think you need to rest?” knowing full well he’d take this rhetorically.

“No, please, I need you more… my queen” He whined. Like a switch, all tiredness dissipated and a half smirk diffused across your face. He knew exactly what he was doing calling you that and you knew exactly what he wanted.

“Aww my little bunny, always so needy for me before he goes on tour” you teased fake pity in your voice. You flicked your lamp on and shuffled yourself out of bed and scanned the dimmed room for your grey skinny fit joggers. You fished a white tank top out your draw and pulled it over your ivory floral lace balconette bra.

“I’ll have to help myself soon” He toyed, your eyes widened in awe of his bravery.

“You dare!” you warned “You won’t be allowed to be inside me until long after your back” Your tone sending all the warning he would need.

“Don’t be long” the phone beeped and he was gone, you pictured the smug look adorning his face right now. Cheeky shit!

As you clicked the key as soundlessly as you could you wandered if he’d behaved. There was always a slight hope that he wouldn’t. Last time he misbehaved you got to chastise him; you refused to let him touch you and make you cum. You enjoyed rubbing salt into that wound by making him watch while you came by your own doing. It drove him crazy and he certainly learnt his lesson. You gingerly made your way to his room, the lighting from outside showered just enough light, casted just enough shadows to navigate yourself successfully. A slither of white light peeked from under his door, inhaling the essence of your role before stepping inside.

“Such a good prince” impressed, he was on his knees dead in front of you in nothing but black boxers. He was knelt back resting on his calves, legs slightly parted and palms upright on his thighs. His eye were weighed down with obedience, dark hair trickling onto his face.

“What is it you wanted so badly to get me up for?” you spoke, hands on your hips, still in front of him.

“I want to hear you cry you out my name while I fucked you once more before I go away” His voice was so sickly sweet and innocent despite the filth that rolled out of his lips. The apricot colour skin taught against his muscular build, every bit of definition a treat to the eyes.

“I suppose I can’t deny you that” agreeing for him as well, It was going to be a long month. You knelt in front of him tipped his chin up per-missing him to look at you. His eye were craters of dark brown sugar starting to caramelize with unresolved need.

“There will still be consequences for waking me up, you know I hate that. Understand?”

“Yes M’aam” so obedient with his response.

“Good, now get up and kiss me”

You both bounced up, he launched at you his lips hit yours with unrestrained urgency knocking you back into the door. His weight pressed to your chest battling with your quickening chest undulations. It accelerated even further when his hands clamped onto your hips securing you in place.

“I think you can feel too much” you moaned in between breaths. “Stop and go back to waiting like a good bunny”

Jungkook stole one last lingering kiss desperately, a slight pout on his lips. You used to punish that behaviour but you grew to find it to be too unbearably cute and sexy when he sulked.

You went to a chest of draws at the back of his expansive wardrobe and took to the bottom draw and removed the satin blindfold and restraints. He’s lucky he’s going on tour and his skin needs to be flawless otherwise you’d be bringing out much more. He’d be restrained with rope until he was raw; he’d be left marked, bruised and flogged. Upon returning he’d not moved an inch.

“Always such a well behaved boy” kneeling behind him lightly blossoming kisses across his back, he inhaled each time your lips skimmed his skin. He always smelt like fresh soap, your hand trickled up the back of his neck snacking through his silky dark hair. He groaned when you yanked his head back

“On the bed” you whispered straight into his ear, which prickled at the sound of your command.

As soon as he’d laid down you climbed and straddled his waist, you stripped your shirt and bra off letting your breasts sit perkily.

“So beautiful my queen” he eyed your flesh with a cocktail of love and hunger. His fingertips traced your stomach

“Aah” you warned, his hands raised apologetically. The notion did not reach his eyes. You returned a mischievous smile as you secured his hands and hooked them over a notch in the middle of the headboard. You purposely ground your hips into his still clothed crotch steeling a moan he attempted to cover up with a hiss from his lips. Absorbing the groans with your lips as you kissed him with fierce passion, biting his lower lip. You felt him grow hard beneath you

“Is that nice my prince?”

“Mmm” he tried to mimic your hip movements but you centred your weight and stopped him.

“Too impatient Kookie” you removed one of his senses firmly tightening the blindfold behind his head. Seeing Jungkook’s breathe hitch sent a tingle to your core, your arousal transferring to your joggers and your clit beginning to ache. You sat back, pressure on his erection and stilled

“I think I may need one more thing”

You left the bed and chucked on your shirt and ventured to the kitchen. He hated being left restrained, especially in the dorm for fear of getting caught. You took your time returning the devilish smile never wavering. On finally returning you shed all your clothing and clinked a glass delicately on the bedside table. Gasping as you straddled his thigh pressing your wetness onto him, a pursed moan also escaped Jungkook.

“See what you do to me bunny, how wet I get for you” you were selfish and started grinding yourself planting your hands either side of his head, arching your back making sure your mouth spilling moans was close to his ear.

“Aaah, Miss you feel so good, don’t stop” he pleaded

“Do you want me to cum bunny?”

“Please my queen, I want to feel your body shake on me” you stopped with no words

“Fuck!” he exclaimed in surprise, you felt his muscles hold their breath beneath you as he adjusted to the freezing block of ice draw a picture across the outline of his pectoral muscles. When the ice cube had been diminished to a small pebble you put it in your mouth. Your mouth cold and wet enclosing them around his lengthening nipple. Where the water had trickled down his skin it had left a field of goose bumps. The way his body reacted to your torment filled you with such drive you had to restrain the urge to fuck him until his tears were streaming down his face.

“Please touch me my queen” he fidgeted under you furthering his desperation. Granting his request you relieved him of his boxers

“Is this what you want my Kookie?” you breathed teasing your fingertips down his shaft.

“Yes Miss” his head rolled back into the sheets drunk with anticipation. He angled his hips to try and put more of himself in your hand. You hand struck his face, his high pitched whine had your pelvic muscles clenching around noting.

“I need to ride you first” you stopped all contact with his cock.

You resumed rocking your hips steadily over his thigh again. Jungkook couldn’t stop the frustration seeping onto his face in beautiful creases. Beginning to feel that slow ascent in your stomach muscles.

“How bad do you want to feel me Kookie?” you panted.

“So bad, please let me be inside you, I want to fill you up and feel you tense around me” he begged saturated with desperation. You could easily just cum sometimes from the way he whined and begged for you

“I’m going to ride your cock until I cum all over it but you my prince are not to cum!” you strengthened the end of your words conveying your seriousness.

“Oh fuck, I love it when you ride me” he grunted as you sunk down onto him followed by a low guttural growl. You began lifting and lowering yourself onto him balancing your hands on his v-lines.

“How do I feel baby?” You fished.

“Incredible, I get so lost in you” he was panting his words. Arching your back, flinging you head back, one hand rapidly circling your clit. Your legs jerked tighter around his waist as you cried out through your release. Your walls pulsing sweet bliss with passing second.

“Agh, princess feels…so...good” he stuttered. You struck him firmly across the face with the palm of your hand, he exhaled a pained cry; his dick twitched in contradiction.

“Sorry...my queen” he corrected.

Drowning in the aftershocks you leaned forward and untied his which dropped thankfully to the bed, you also gave him back his sight. Slipping the blindfold of his moist forehead, strands of hair clinging to his face mercifully.

“There you go my king” as soon as you gave up this code word signalling equality he pushed himself up and had you in his lap still inside you, brushing your hair out of your face.

“What are you going to do with you free reign baby?” you were still breathless, heart rampaging in your chest. Sloppy kisses showering you before he breathed in your ear

“I’m going to fuck you hard, you’ll be crying out my name” your body shuddered at the thought. Within seconds you was on your back legs wrapped tightly around him, his cock teasing, lined up to your entrance. You winced as his teeth bit hard on your neck, your nails leaving half-moon crescents littered on his side. He sucked ferociously and slammed into you; you almost screamed with some of the lingering sensitivity.

“Shit Jungkook” you cried. His pace unrelenting, crashing into your g-spot each time.

“You gotta be louder than that Y/N” he managed through his own guttural grunts. Somehow his thrusts grew harder and faster, his hot breath rolling down your neck where his head nestled.

“Jungkook… I” your orgasm smashed into you out of nowhere light a freight train, your scream higher almost in shock. His hips staggered and jerked as the pressure of your walls clenching around him sent him exasperatedly exhaling as he came and joined you in riding out your orgasm.

He peeled off you and slumped back beside you both panting, both lost in the afterglow.

“Hey you two kids had better be finished. We’re all trying to sleep here!” Jin hammered on the door sounding more amused than annoyed. You giggled and buried your head amongst the sheet like a shy school girl.

Jungkook rescued you with a delicate kiss on the forehead.

“I love you baby, I’m going to miss you so much” His bunny smile comatosing you in sweetness where you lay.

“I love you too Kook, you’re always so good for me and I’ll see you at the wrap party when you get back”

#bts smut #bts #sub-bts-network #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #btssmutclub #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts jungkook #sub jungkook

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lil-creatorwritings · 5 years

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Jello Shots [Jonah Clemence]

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution Pairing: Jonah Clemence x Alice (Saskia) Word Count: 1279 words to have jello shots with! Warning: NSFW or parties or in hallways. A/N: Guess whose brain had another unnecessary idea? Yep, this is why I’m uploading this; my very first fic of 2019 is a Jonah smut lol. Calling out @loptyrs , @flawedandimperfectangel , @emeraldtawny , @lokiiwood and @xathia-89 !!! Y’all better be having some popcorn and enjoy.

---

It was noisy and rambunctious in the dance hall. I pull my boyfriend from the officers--they gave us a knowing look and I ignored it--and tug him out of the hall. Jonah followed me, despite being confused.

“Saskia? What’s the matter?” He asked, the champagne flute still in his hand. I pull him to the closest hallway, taking the glass from his hand to set it on the nearby table. He didn’t have the time to protest as I pressed him against the wall, crashing my lips on his heatedly. The alcohol from tonight had riled me up, albeit I haven’t been drinking a lot. I can remember at least three glasses for social purposes, and the remainder was a blur.

I felt him pull me closer by the waist, kissing me deeper and taking the lead. I wrap my arms around his neck, telling him that I wanted more. He pulled away, his cheeks blooming red--from embarrassment or the alcohol, I didn’t know.

“Jonah,” I murmured, feeling a bit more sober. “Let’s get out of here.”

He must have noticed the hungry glint in my gaze because this time, he was the one pulling me in the direction of his room in a hurried pace. We almost bumped into another waiter who suddenly appeared out of the nearby door, carrying a bunch of shot glasses in a box. Jonah wanted to ignore him, but I couldn’t help but ask him what they were.

“Oh, the chef had been trying a new way to serve alcohol by mixing it in some gelatin. This is the first batch and it ended up quite a bit too runny, and now he wants me to toss it out.” The waiter frowned. “I feel bad for wasting it, but I can’t drink.”

My boyfriend interrupted me before I could open my mouth. “Let me take it off your hands.”

“Q-Queen?” He had already taken the box from him. “Tell him you disposed of it accordingly. I’ll handle it.”

Swiftly, we left him behind, making our way back towards his room. Each turn made me more fidgety, until we reached a flight of stairs. I wanted to run up them, but Jonah held me close to him, keeping a moderate pace. It wasn’t long before we reached his door; I swung it open as the both of us stepped inside. The moment it closed shut, I latched myself onto him, kissing him again. He gave no resistance as he kept me close, slowly guiding me backwards until my legs hit the sofa, his body pushing me down to take a seat. I happily obliged as he rested a knee beside me, nipping on the bottom of my lip.

I groaned, parting my lips as his tongue slipped inside and played with mine. It felt like ages before he pulled away, looking back at me with those lovely amber eyes of his.

“Jonah.” His name softly falling from my lips, a sense of neediness laced with my tone.

I didn’t realize how much I missed him until tonight when I saw him. He had been so busy with preparing this party that I haven’t seen him much over the past few days, let alone spend time with him. The mixture of dutch courage and longing overthrew my ability to think as I just marched over to him, not caring what the other officers were thinking. I wanted him, and I couldn’t control myself over it.

My mouth opened to apologize, but he simply shut them with his own, kissing me gently. “I missed you too, Saskia.” He whispered as he rested his forehead on mine. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

I nodded, my voice choked up in my throat. I felt him smile against my lips before kissing me again, this time with more fire and urgency. He leaned me back on the couch, his fingers deftly working on the buttons of my blouse.

He pulled away too early for my liking, noticing that he had already undone until the front clasp of my bra. His mouth moves south, peppering kisses along my neck, his fingertips tracing circles on my stomach. A quick nip on my pulse makes me jump, feeling the desire build up in my core. His short giggle made me smile before he resumed his path down, past my breasts, kneeling down between my legs as he placed a kiss on the top of my navel.

The sudden sensation of a cool liquid passing through my chest jolted me. I didn’t have the time to respond as Jonah’s warm tongue lapped it up before it stained my skirt. Focusing my eyes, I realized that he had taken one of the shot glasses, pouring the jelly content on my body. The play in temperatures made my body shiver in pleasure as I watched him lick his lips, his dark eyes trained on me, watching my expression.

Shifting, he decided to lick up the alcohol that stuck to my skin, trailing his tongue up along the path. I couldn’t help the moan from my lips, my fingers tangling in his hair as he came to level with my chest. I felt him pull away; this time, he took the jello in his mouth before taking a nipple in as well. My head tilted back, moaning louder as the coolness made my nipple hard. His hand cupped my other breast, a thumb running across my other one. A particularly hard and warm bite from his teeth made me cry out. Jonah swallowed the jello, licking off the remainder that was on my breast, his fingers still tugging on my other nipple.

Desire grew on my skin as I looked at him with hazy eyes. “J-Jonah.. I want more.. Please..”

The shift of emotions on his face was quite a sight to see. His gaze grew heated as he got off the sofa completely, settling between my legs as his hands skittered up my thighs. I trembled with need, my hands clutching my skirts as they bunched up my waist. He slipped my soaked panties off me and tossed it aside; I heard him groan as his mouth trailed wet kisses on my inner thigh, surprising me when he gives my slit a slow lick.

My moans escalated as his tongue plays with my clit, alternating between drawing tight circles and flicking it with the tip. I was already worked up and it wouldn’t take much longer until I exploded. Jonah moved ever so slightly--I heard the drop of glass on the carpeted floor--before taking it in his mouth, sucking on it. I quickly realize that he had taken another jello, pressing the cold treat against my sensitive nub. My hips jerked against him, feeling myself on the brink of pleasure.

His thumb pressed hard on my clit as he dove his tongue in my soaking pussy, thrusting quickly, throwing me over the edge as my orgasm hit me hard. I cried out his name to the empty room, not caring if anyone heard us outside. My toes curled from the release as he lapped up my wetness, his tongue slowing down the pace to let me ride it out.

I tried to control my ragged breathing as Jonah moved away, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my thigh. Standing up, I felt him brush my bangs away from my forehead as I open my eyes, meeting his gaze.

“Ah, honestly..” he whispered, a hint of restraint in his voice. “You’re making it difficult to stop.”

My lips slowly curved into a smile, loving the fact that he can’t help it.

“Then don’t.”

#ikemen revolution #jonah clemence #uhaw #y'all i havent done his route so i dont know him well lolol #naruto runs away

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avengers-nextgen · 6 years

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The Rise Of The Lost V

Bianca did not move from where she rested. Bucky carried her from the jet as if she were a child who’d fallen asleep on a long car ride. Everyone’s curiosity upon their arrival was nearly overwhelming but Wanda thankfully stepped in-sensing Bucky’s urgency.

The young girl was taken to the infirmary and immediately examined for any worrying damage. When none was found-aside from the spinal stitches which would inevitably scar- Bucky let out a sigh of relief. After a moment however, the silence became uncomfortable. He could almost feel Bianca’s apprehension and took it as his invitation to leave.

Just as the weight of the cot shifted Bianca’s broken voice arched timidly in the air like a broken bird. “Stay.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky still looked like a monster, he was covered in blood, his hair was wild, and his forehead was sticky with dried sweat. The look on Bianca’s face showed that she didn’t care at all. In this moment the poor girl needed something-no, someone- to ground her. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to suffer because of me.”

“It’s not your fault.” Bucky blinked in surprise at her words. All she’d ever done was blame him. “You wouldn’t want anyone else to experience your pain. I was stupid to think you would. Stupid to think you’d let someone make a monster like me.”

Bianca’s words were almost inaudible as she dissolved into dry sobs. She had shed all of her tears already. Bucky wasn’t sure what to do. He’d only had experience comforting Natasha who, for the most part, handled things herself. “Don’t blame yourself for their conditioning.”

But her crying gave way to something more. It was pure grief. She’d lost something, part of her humanity, and it wasn’t retrievable.”I wish they’d have just killed me.”

The statement sent a knife into Bucky’s stomach. He’d experienced all of those feelings before, the loss, the grief, the self hatred, and the anger. “It’s a good thing they didn’t.”

“I don’t want to be like this. I don’t even know what they’ve made me. I don’t even know who they are!” Bianca sobbed.

On the returning flight clouds had gathered and at last a clap of thunder signaled the inevitable rain. “We’ll figure it out. For now you need to rest and recover. After that I’ll tell you anything you have questions about, even do my best to explain things I don’t quite understand.”

— — —

While Bianca fought her own battles so did Sage. The first echoing of thunder froze her in a terror she had no control over. She’d been pacing anxiously, wandering if Bianca had returned, what had happened, had Bucky destroyed those responsible for Bianca’s creation? Lightning flashed in the windowed hallway ahead and the witch’s stomach twisted in distrust.

Alex who had gone to deliver the news, accompanied by Thalia, watched the odd phenomenon unfold. Neither of the heroes had ever seen Sage so panicked before. Her form dissolved over and over again and reappeared in a different portion of the glass container each time.

“She’s trying to get out.” Alex noted.

“It’s the storm,” Thalia noted grimly. “I should have expected it. Perhaps I could have given some comfort or warned her. I sensed it building.”

“Hey, there’s a situation out on the landing pad.” Orion, who had been floating aimlessly around the headquarters knocked lightly on the wall.

“What is it?” Alex frowned.

“Wakandans.” Scout called. He stepped up beside Orion and barely spared the other boy a glance. “They don’t seem enthused.”

— — —

“What is the meaning of this?” Siyanda frowned marching out into the rain to greet the Wakanda warriors.

“A situation has unfolded that needs attention.” Siyanda immediately located the owner of the familiar voice. It was rich and smooth and hardly held an accent much to everyone else’s surprise. “Your father sent us.”

“He did not need to.”

“Perhaps you should tell him that.” Acacia smirked. The warrior girl glanced about curiously and her eyes landed upon others rushing to the scene. It was instinct to draw the double bladed staff.

“What’s happened?” Alex questioned jogging towards the gathering. Thalia was close behind running with a lowered head to fight against the rain. “Siyanda?”

“Please address her by her title.” Acacia regarded Alex coldly.

“Title?” Thalia frowned pulling up beside Alex. “What title?”

“My official title,” Siyanda sighed,”is uneeded here. What is the issue?”

“Would you not like to speak inside away from this storm? It’s unflattering for you.” Acacia frowned giving the sky a detesful look. When Siyanda did not move the warrior continued. “Colonizers managed to steal half a ton of vibranium from a mine along the eastern border.”

The information immediately caused Siyanda’s shoulders to tense. “Could you not track them?”

“We tried,” Acacia’s expression took on a dark look, “all we found was a demand.”

“What was the demand?”

“They are requesting a transaction.” Acacia pursed her lips in thought. “A witch for our vibranium. Even more worrisome-they knew you were here. I could not remain in Wakanda without knowing you were safe. It seems you are in decent company.”

Alex wasn’t sure what to make of the warrior’s approving nod. “Thanks?”

“A what?” Siyanda frowned. A thunder clap echoed above and a heavy sheet of rain slammed upon them.

“A witch.” Acacia repeated.

“No.” Thalia blurted abruptly. “There’s nothing of the sort here. You’ve been miss informed.”

“Are you lying?” Acacia frowned and regarded the Asgardian. Thalia swallowed hard beneath the intense gaze.

Heavy footsteps pounded into puddles on the landing pad as Nathaniel ran out into the rain. “Alex, we gotta get Sage away from any source of the storm. She’s going completely out of her mind-I’ve never seen a witch hate rain so much in my life.”

Silence settled like a heavy blanket. Acacia’s eyes smoldered in anger and her glare flickered to Thalia. “Lying to the royal guard is an extremely unwise decision.”

“Nathaniel, always one for bad timing.” Alex growled. In less than a second both Thalia and Alex were sprinting off to enter the building once more.

“I hate it when they run.” Acacia sighed. With an elegant wave of her electric staff she pressed it into the ground. Electricity arched through the water in a vengeance. Nathaniel fell victim in a heap of steaming clothes. Alex was blasted clean into the air and into the side of the building. Thalia was unharmed.

Her father made certain that her boots were made of insulating material strong enough to withstand the worst of lightning strikes.

“How-“ Acacia didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence before a blast of red knocked her flat.

“You don’t get to show up and pick a fight with my friends!” Scout glanced worriedly at Nathaniel who was the closest to imenent danger. “Whatever you want you’re not getting. Leave.”

— — —

“What’s happening out there?” James yelled having pulled on his suit and equipped two very dangerous blades. Thalia didn’t explain, she only kept running.

“You’re kidding me.” Tony sighed tromping towards the commotion outside equipped in his suit. “They always have to make things difficult don’t they?”

“Wakandans?” Vision mused drawing up beside Tony, “It’s in their nature.”

— — —

Thalia leapt the platform railing with ease landing beside the containment cell that harbored her cousin. The sight made her heart ache with sadness. Sage was afraid of storms because of her father. And for reasons not her fault Thalia couldn’t help but feel responsible.

With a set jaw the asgardian drew her twin blades. The leather grips were slick from water running down her clothes and dripping onto the weapons. The sound of running in the hall made her tense.

Alex had recovered from her ordeal and dove over the railing in a panic. She crashed painfully onto the ground where an audible snap indicated a dislocated shoulder. Just as the poor girl crawled behind cover the railing overhead was blasted apart.

One of the elite warriors came running into the room. Her eyes landed on Thalia. “Step aside warrior, I will only warn you once.”

“And I will not be pushed around for a second time,” Thalia replied. “You will not be completing this mission as you planned.”

“Then it appears we have no choice.”

— — —

“You’re a witch too?” One of the warriors questioned as they regarded Scout.

“No, if anything I’m a warlock, and this isn’t magic.” With his eyebrows drawn together in concentration Scout swept the warrior aside.

Vision darted into the fray to quickly retrieve Nathaniel before returning safely inside. Tony did the opposite.

“Alright guys, let’s have a nice calm chit chat inside. Sounds nice yeah?” When a blast of blue energy arched in his direction he was forced to dive to the side. “You know, that was really rude.”

— — —

Thalia was confronted not by two other guards alone but by the royal guard chief as well. Her blades were a flash in the flickering light from the storm outside. Alex attempted to help but was only pushed back and remained on the outskirts.

A blade scratched across the asgardian’s face leaving a deep gash to ooze blood in its place. A growl echoed in the space and a black blue arched through the air in an elegant twist. Landing without a sound a flash of silver claws was followed by weapons clattering to the ground.

When all had stilled Thalia looked wide eyed at the panther suited figure who held Acacia aloft in one hand. “Enough!”

“You disobey an order from your father?” The guard held a look of betrayal on her face. The expression made Siyanda’s chest ache.

“This is not the way. Not like this. You will not take another’s family in such a violent manner.” Siyanda shook her head. Thalia stared at her friend in surprise. She had advocated to get rid of Sage from day one and now was turning against her own people to defend the very person she so avidly hated.

“She is a murderer.” Acacia grunted.

“She is human.” Siyanda protested. Their was a vulnerability in her voice that Thalia had not heard before. “I have learned one thing since being here, my dear. No matter where you come from or who you choose to be we are all people!”

Silence settled once more and Siyanda released Acacia though it seemed to take a lot of effort. Only Thalia noticed the silent sob. It was indicated by the shake of the shoulders. “You may leave now.”

“And what of your people?” Acacia would not meet the princess’ eyes.

“I will not neglect them. Have faith in me.”

“I have always had faith in you.”

“Then you will go. Now.” There was a firmness in Siyanda’s voice that came from years of training to take the throne of Wakanda, but there was an unsteadiness to it. “I have much to think about. For instance, why Sage is so entangled in every plight we face.”

— — —

Alex’s shoulder was patched up, Nathaniel spent a night in the hospital just to be monitored. Scout was left in disbelief in all that had happened. James began digging for information upon Siyanda’s polite request. Thalia remained outside of her cousin’s prison. Sage had not ceased her phasing in and out of physical form for hours. Thalia was certain she would wear herself into an exhausted oblivion.

A small part of Thalia feared that they would be back. That someone would inevitably snatch Sage away while she could not effectively defend herself. Bianca was the only other one to visit. Alex was to remain in bed upon her parents’ orders, and even curious Scout did not slink by.

Bianca watched Sage with a sad expression. “Sometimes I think she forgets how deeply wounded she really is.”

“‘Tis her pride.” Thalia noted with a stained voice. “It runs in the family. They have not locked you up again.”

“I-well, I have decisions to make.” Bianca swallowed hard. “I’m afraid that, should I do as I feel is just, she will hate me more ruthlessly than your father.”

“For that I am sorry.” Thalia felt tears prickle at her eyes. “Is it wrong to hate my maker?”

“No.” Bianca shook her head. “Many people hate their father’s.”

“I wish he had not caused so much pain.” Thalia who was always so strong began to cry. “It hurts more than my cousin. It hurts me deeply too.”

“When one is hurt the ripple expands to many beyond the intended target.” Bianca gave Thalia an empathetic look before leaving the warrior behind.

The warrior was left to cry herself to sleep. The storm raged on well into the night and it was under the disguise of thin darkness that Siyanda, tired and sad, in nothing more than rumpled pajamas, slunk into the containment facility.

She paused to observe the source of her troubles. She hated the witch for so long but listening to Thalia talk had given her a new perspective. It was not entirely Sage’s fault for who she had become-and Siyanda could no longer hate her. She had spent hours second guessing her decision but decided in that moment that she had made the right one.

Thalia, honorable as always, was still standing guard even in sleep. Siyanda carefully set the dual swords aside and leaned back against the thick glass. With care she shifted the sleeping girl-who was unwakeable when properly resting- to rest between her bent legs. Thalia leaned back against Siyanda’s chest as the princess slung her arms lightly around the torso of the asgardian. She rested her chin upon tossled blonde hair in contemplation. “What have you done to me Thalia Odin?”

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red-5 · 7 years

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Luck’s Got Nothing To Do With It (Pt. 2)

Summary: Poe deals with the aftermath of leaving her behind, the Resistance makes plans to get her back.

Pairings: Poe x OC/reader

“I’m sorry about your girlfriend.”

The simple sentiment managed to cut through the hissing of the landing gear, the beeping of the airlock signaling the all-clear, the persistent howling in Poe’s ears that he pretended was aftershock of the jump to lightspeed in an unfamiliar craft. His head snapped to his left, and the smaller man shrunk away from the wild look in his wide, bloodshot eyes. Poe searched his face for a moment, blinking away his thoughts before finding his voice.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he managed, flinging the straps of his harness over the back of the pilot’s chair, and clamoring to his feet. “And don’t be. As soon as I pass you off I’m going to get her.”

He felt eyes watching him as he released the lock on the door, willing the fatigue from his muscles as he heaved the metal latch open. He brushed off the obnoxious feeling, the questions he saw swimming in his eyes. Faces blurred past him as he pushed his way through the crowd that flooded the small craft, ignoring the questions and prodding looks they gave him as his boots thudded across the tarmac to a familiar sleek, black X-wing.

The Y-wing he had flown into Cloud City was probably still parked on the small landing pad near the rear entrance to the city, but she had sacrificed any chance at slipping passed the TIE fighters when she gave him the precious few seconds he needed to take-off. The flight back to D’Qar had been torture, the last few minutes before he took off without her had been playing out in his head, on repeat, since the moment the landing gear left solid ground. He was a man obsessed, positive there was something, anything, he could have done besides leave her in a floating, First Order infested hive. He picked apart each second, dissecting the scene for his failure and becoming increasingly agitated as he came up with nothing. Sooner or later, they would find her, then it would be a question of how long it took them to discover she wasn’t a materials inspector for a hyperdrive coolant development company.

He refused to think about what came next, only that he couldn’t let it get to that point.

His feet tripped and tumbled over BB-8’s feeble attempt to stop him by weaving through his legs to frantic beeps and howls.

“Not now buddy, we’ve gotta go.”

He yelped at the droid’s escalated maneuver of simply ramming into his shins with renewed vigor and a fresh string of angry, high-pitched binary. His own rant was roughly cut off before it began by the small hand that gripped his bicep with surprising strength, jerking him to face a furious, tight-lipped scowl.

“Black. Leader.” The General annunciated, eyes flashing through the mask of long-practiced patience for hot-shot pilots. He hadn’t heard anyone call for him, but the bewildered looks they were receiving was evidence enough.

“General, I’m sorry I have to- I- I can’t just leave her- “

“Poe.” It was sharp, cutting, but soft with understanding, and the jumble of words died in his throat as he sighed a shuttering breath. His blood ran cold with an unfamiliar sensation that he recognized immediately.

Helplessness.

“We’re going to get her, we will. But let’s do this the right way. Flying back in there mad and single-handed isn’t going to do her any favors.” Her eyes held no room for questioning, and he allowed himself to be led from the flight line by the firm grip on his arm.

He gave himself over to the numbness that overtook his limbs as he moved robotically to the briefing room, vision swimming with the exhaustion he had been repressing. This was the part where she would give him a sly grin and one last crushing hug before ducking into the dark room, muscles still spasming with post-flight adrenaline that wouldn’t wear off until well into the night. Now it felt as if his boots were filled with concrete, as if she were some kind of drug and he was overdue for his next hit.

Shapes and voices flowed around him as he was shoved into a seat, Snap’s face passed in front of his, he was saying something, but Poe couldn’t quite make out his words. The lights dimmed, but the rapid ebb, and flow of moving bodies didn’t falter, data-pads transferring hands, voices whispering in ears, the General addressing the group that had gathered next to a trembling intel-specialist Bonavan? Donovan? It was information he already had, everything he already knew, the First Order’s interest in Cloud City to feed their ever-expanding need for hyperdrive coolant, Baron-Administrator Calrissian’s role as a double agent, playing nice with the Admirals and troopers that came prodding while covering the Resistance’s presence in his halls. A presence that had been compromised. Sour irritation bubbled in his chest, his skin crawling beneath the muted-grey of the itchy material he kept forgetting he still wore. He could be halfway back to the city by now.

Everything suddenly felt so wrong. He missed the feminine voice next to him, making inappropriate jokes and comments earning them a stern glare from General Organa. The cantina would be next, take-away boxes smeared with grime and left to go cold on the tarmac as they came down from their adrenaline highs in the clean night air. He had no idea he had become so dependent on their routine, on her very presence, but now, in the absence of his addiction, he felt the pang of withdrawal.

“Lieutenant Divon, is Green Squadron ready?”

As if his body recognized there were plans being made, he snapped to attention, eyes seeking out the blonde in question.

“The Ghosts are scrambled and awaiting your orders, General,” the lithe man responded briskly.

“Good,” she responded tightly, eyes skipping around the room. “You will take point in Green Leader’s place. Gold and Red squadrons, you will follow Green and engage when given the order. Keep it tight, keep it clean. Our intel states it’s little more than a scout detachment, but given the circumstances that will change, and quickly. Black squadron, you’re on clean-up and emergency back-up only, that means you too, Black Leader.”

Her eyes found Poe’s from across the room.

“No heroics. I want Green-3 in a Y-wing and standing by for extraction. Get our girl and get out, is that understood?”

A chorus of affirmations rang around the room, but her eyes never left his. He felt them burning in the back of his skull as he leapt to his feet and beat the mob to the door.

“Poe!” Snap called after him, pushing his way out of the room to chase him down.

“Poe! Poe stop!” His fingers gripped his arm, fisting into the material and reminding him, once again, he wasn’t wearing his flight suit.

“Let me go, Snap,” Poe ground through clenched teeth, grunting in irritation at a failed attempt to wrench his arm free.

“Just wait a second, you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“Yeah, well, it’ll be a long time coming.” He tried, again, and failed, again, to pull himself free, instead conceding with a withering glare at his friend who stared back at him slack-jawed.

“What the hell has gotten into you?”

“She needs me Snap, I just left her there- “

“And you don’t get to be leader of the best stealth squadron in the Resistance without taking a few hits.” Snap almost shouted, raising his voice over Poe’s frantic rambling.

“But I left her there.” Poe insisted, eyes begging him to understand, to loosen his grip and let him go before he exploded. “I left her there. I told her I’d never leave her behind.”

“And she’s a tough girl,” Snap responded gently as if reassuring a wounded animal. “She knew what she signed up for. You did what you had to do, she knows we’re coming for her and she’ll do what she has to do.”

Poe stared back at him for a long moment, fighting down the irritation he felt at how calm Snap was and trying instead to let it soothe his frayed nerves. Finally, he gave a sharp nod, sucking in a deep breath to combat the tightness building in his chest. Snap hesitantly let him go, giving him time to compose himself as he tugged and pulled at his clothes, dragged his fingers through his tousled hair, pressed the heels of his hands into his strained eyes.

“How long?”

Bloodshot brown eyes flew open, hands pulling away from his face as he looked at Snap with a blank expression, mouth gaping open ever so slightly.

“I…I- I don’t… “ He stuttered, blinking rapidly as he sorted through his jumbled thoughts. “I’m not… She’s…she’s just… “

“Yeah alright, whatever you say, look,” Snap interrupted his pathetic excuse for a response. “You got 20 minutes till gear up. Change, splash some water on your face, pull yourself together and get to the flight line. We’re on back-up- “ He held up a halting hand at Poe’s protests. “General’s orders, you’re lucky she’s even letting you go. You’re way outside your safety window and should be resting. Don’t make her change her mind. Now go.”

He wasn’t certain when that had become a trend in his life, but he found himself turning away from his squad-mate and following BB-8 to the familiar path to his room. No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to move fast enough. He felt like he was in a dream, arms and legs tangling in the bed sheets whenever he tried to move with any sense of urgency. He let out a throat-tearing scream as his fingers failed a third time to punch in the pass code to his door, repressing the urge to put his fist to the metal instead as he pressed his forehead to the wall. The cold bite of the metal cut through the haze in his mind and let him draw in the first, true breath he had taken in hours.

Breathe in.

She’s fine.

Breathe out.

You’re going to get her back, she’ll be home by dinner.

With a head as clear as it was going to get, he pushed away from the wall, steadying his hands before successfully punching in his code and striding through the threshold. He was on autopilot, snatching the familiar orange flight suit from where it hung by the door, kicking off his boots and shedding the thick material of his disguise. Hands groped for the familiar holes as he shrugged it on, stepping into his boots on the way to the fresher. His breath faltered and sputtered as the ice-cold liquid hit his face, shocking his senses, and clearing away the remnants of the fog that clung to the edges of his mind.

He met his own eyes in the mirror, barely recognizing the face that stared back at him. Tanned skin turned ashen, brown eyes sunken into his skull, wild curls jutting up from his head haphazardly. When did he start needing her so much? He felt like he was coming apart at the seams, and the only thing that kept him together wasn’t there. They should be at the cantina right now, scooping slop into small white boxes and smiling apologetically at Miss Lyra for the mess they left behind. This wasn’t the first time he had to leave someone behind, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. But he was certain it was the only time he felt as if he left himself behind as well, the only time he felt as if nothing would ever be right again.

BB-8 rolled in behind him, whistling quietly as he gently nudged Poe’s leg in apology.

“I know, buddy.”

He turned to look at his companion, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“You ready?”

His mouth stretched into a tight smile at the enthusiastic beeps and whoops he got in response. He grasped the zipper on the front of his suit with his fingers, pulling the tab up to his neck and squaring his shoulders.

“Let’s go get her.”

@umbrellabrass you must have ESP, I got your tag request as I posted this.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x oc #poe dameron x ofc #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you

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unkindnessofone · 7 years

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5SOS. All My Heroes

Another long one. Please enjoy. I love knowing what you think! This particular story is dedicated to @nottafangirlblog who achieved great stuff in her course today and deserves to be celebrated!

Holding his tongue to the roof of his mouth, trying to keep his emotions inward, Luke sat on his daughter's new futon in her shoe box bachelor apartment and just stared at her silently as she busied herself in her very cozy kitchenette. Penelope looked truly happy, radiating for the first time in a while Luke noted. She had on a large white Connor Wylie Music shirt, stained with grease from cooking, and very colourful elephant pants on. Her long sandy hair was tied in two tight space buns, frizzy from sleep, and her eyes were focused on the frying pan in her hand.

As utterly delicious as her small apartment had been smelling since he arrived five minutes ago from the hotel he had been living in, Luke's senses weren't in check. He couldn't register the sound of horns honking outside her window, the scent of cinnamon and butter sizzling pan, the sight of his daughter practically dancing as she flipped pancakes, the taste of his stale hotel room coffee painting the walls of his mouth, or the feeling of his jeans rough and unwashed under his dry palms. All Luke was doing was trying to figure out a way to stay. He had already tacked two extra days onto his time in Paris, too scared to leave Penelope behind.

"Are you sure you are ready to be on your own?" He couldn't hold it in anymore, Luke's question flew out of his mouth as soon as their blue eyes met in the tiny room, cutting her off before she could begin to ask if he wanted milk or juice with the breakfast she was preparing. Penelope had been so excited to use her stove top for the first time that she went all out at the nearby convenience store.

"Yeah." Penelope answered quickly. She knew it for a fact. "I wouldn't have applied to a school in a Europe if I wasn't ready to be alone." Her answer didn't calm Luke's nerves though. He knew his daughter felt she was born ready for anything. With the same hand that was holding her plastic black spatula, Penelope scratched at her chin where small red bumps were forming. She had inherited Luke's acne prone skin and the new French air was different than the Sydney wind that she grew up in. "Dad, I'm ready." Sliding the first fluff cinnamon pancake onto a teal with mustard yellow damask plate, Penelope's promised. She reached out her arm to offer it to him, bringing her dad from the folded futon to the petite table for two that was attached to her kitchen wall. "My therapist told you I made great progress, the neurologist said she didn't see any reason for me to not go. I haven't surfed in almost a year, I don't drive anymore, I don't drink, I haven't even been on a swing set since Snapper Rock..." She felt like she was making a great case for herself, but her Dad's face wasn't giving her much indication of whether or not he was convinced. He just looked like a man enjoying his breakfast which made Penny happy enough. She had taken to cooking because she wanted some independence in her life after her surfing accident. She just wanted a hobby so she wouldn't long for the ocean anymore. While Penelope knew nothing would ever make her feel like surfing had, she did enjoy being creative in the kitchen. Her friends could take on the waves and she would work on creating the world's best taco salad. "Can I get you juice or milk?" Pouring batter into the pan for her own pancake, she asked.

"I'll get it." Clearing his threat, Luke rose from the wooden stool that he had hauled up eight flights to stairs and went to her fridge with it's broken door. Penelope thought it was perfect. "It would be okay if you wanted me to stay."

Penelope couldn't find a polite way to express that she really didn't want him to, "Dad, I need this adventure." She had always been a wild weed that he could not control despite multiple attempts. Losing her ability to be reckless and high energy had felt debilitating for Penelope. She hadn't been excited since the accident until she applied for culinary school in Paris. It wasn't as if she couldn't study in Sydney because she could. She really just wanted something new again, she wanted to feel exhilarated. Penelope had been dreaming of having her life back and this felt like a direct path.

Luke felt the sense of urgency in Penny's voice and leaned into it. He knew that she had felt like a prisoner inside of her self since having to give up surfing via doctor's orders. He just couldn't find any tranquility within himself when he imagined walking out the door and leaving her to her own wits in a city that she didn't know with a language barrier.

"I promise to Skype every Monday after school. Didn't you and Grandma have a thing like that when you toured?" Penelope really couldn't remember if that was true or not. It wasn't because of her slow memory, but just because she had never actually known the arrangement between her Grandma Liz and her dad.

"She came with me on my first tour actually." He smiled with maple syrup on his lips as he sat back at the table.

"Well, good thing I'm not touring." Flipping her flapjack in the sizzling pan, Penelope smiled smugly over at him. "Good, right?" She asked referring to the breakfast she had made. Cinnamon pancakes were the first thing she made that he had really liked, eating two stacks when she made them for her family.

"They're great." He assured even though she didn't need it. "Mondays for Skype and texts every night after work." She had managed to hook herself up with a job garnishing dishes and preparing ingredients in a popular tapas place in her neighborhood, Montemare. Penny wanted a spot at a bakery, but no one would take her with her grade level French. Cédaz would work though. She didn't have to interact with patrons, she could make money, work on her French, learn from accomplished chefs, and listen to jazz music on the weekends. It was a start point and, with her head injury, Penelope felt like she was getting very good at starting points.

"Every night? Our time zones are totally different!" Laughing, Penny shook her head as she dumped her own giant pancake onto a plate and then shut off the stove. "What about I don't text you on a schedule, but if I miss a Monday Skype date, you can move here?" She straddled the empty stool and set herself up on the very little space that was left at the table, her eyes glowing down to meet Luke's as soon as he looked up from his plate.

"I know you're kidding, but I will accept the counter offer." Pointing at her with his sticky used fork, Luke agreed and hesitantly chuckled with her.

Silence came between them giving Penelope a chance to catch up to her dad with breakfast while it gave Luke an opportunity to try and feel more comfortable. He watched as Penny reached over and helped herself to a sip from his mug of milk. His grin grew like a empty balloon after a first exhale. It reminded him of when she was little and wanted to be part of every thing he did. If he was wearing a beanie, she had to have one. If he was gnawing on pretzels while watching TV, she wanted to share. When he would go to an award show, she would write her name on the inside of his hand, so she could come along somehow. Luke wasn't sure when but, Penelope had outgrown his influence somewhere and Luke never realized how badly he missed when she wanted to follow him like a shadow.

"When you were like 7 or 8, you threw a fit because we wouldn't buy you bunk beds." Luke interrupted their comfortable quiet, earning his daughter's eyes opening up behind the rim of the mug that had been his. They were so blue, enhanced by the teal of the cup, that Luke could see the waves she grew up chasing inside. "We were thinking about getting them for the twins for the place in Burbank and you wanted them too."

"I don't remember." She put the cup down by his plate and dug back into her pancake. Penelope hated when she couldn't remember things like she used to. The Burbank house barely rung a bell even if she knew it was a prominent place in her childhood.

"I had forgot to until now." At his own nostalgia, Luke offered a meek smirk. It was funny because he hadn't recalled the memory ever before, but he could now remember her laying on the floor so clearly, pulling at her own shirt, and wailing. "We kept explaining to you," He and Cagney. "That you didn't need bunk beds because you didn't have a twin, eventually you just laid down in the middle of the Ikea pick up and cried because you wanted one that you and I could share."

Embarrassed, Penelope rolled her eyes at herself. If her mouth hadn't been full, she would have called her younger self "a total gomer".

"Dad, are you going to start crying?" Very seriously, Penny asked with her pupils ready to roll the moment he answered. She had barely swallowed her bite, she just wanted to be ready.

"No." Sternly, Luke grunted and stabbed the remaining bit of his breakfast. "I'm just proud of you." She never could handle when anyone was sentimental. Penelope preferred the future if she had to chose between it or the past. She always had been the type to just keep going.

Luke realized that he wasn't that worried about Penelope being on her own in Paris. She had the world at her finger tips again - finally. She was going to start her new job that evening, she would explore and learn a new city, and she would make friends. People were attracted to Penelope whether or not they wanted to be. She could draw anyone in with her freckles and 'relaxed as a pool noodle' energy. Cagney had raised her to never be scared and he had taught her to have a healthy dose of fear. Together, they had made Penelope and Luke knew they had done something right with her. He had to return to Sydney and keep raising two boys. Maybe Penelope had outgrown him again, but he knew she would reach out if and when she needed him even if it was just for a sip of his milk or to help carry furniture.

"Got any more pancakes?" Trying to be supportive of the reality she was choosing for herself, Luke asked. "I have a long flight ahead of me." He had to leave today. It was what she needed and that was more important.

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

He was so used to someone else planning his agenda that he had managed to book a horrible flight home, leaving him with an entire in New York before returning to Sydney where his youngest son was apparently bed ridden from heartbreak delivered by a one Daphne Hood. Luke and Calum hadn't even talked while he was in Paris, but Luke was really starting to worry now that the two facts had something to do with one another. He didn't think Calum would be that petty, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. They had never been in this sort of circumstance before.

While the cab was locked in traffic, Luke shut off his phone to preserve some battery. He looked around at the Flat Iron District he was entering and felt completely uninspired. He loved New York, but the skyscrapers that currently surrounded him felt lifeless. They didn't tell a story at all. He remembered once suggesting to Cagney that they set up shop somewhere in Saint Mark's, but Ashton and Simone had just found their dream house in Sydney and raved about how nice it was to not have any fans or paparazzi on their lawn or outside Molly's activities. At the time, Cagney was starting to feel symptoms of baby fever and she was obsessed with finding them a home away from fame since she felt confident they would grow up on the road most of the time. In her dream world, she would have raised their children in Minnesota where she grew up, but Luke compromised with a custom built mansion in a private area in Sydney.

Sometimes he really wanted a real break from himself and Sydney had been a comfortable place to relax near family and be on his own when he needed to be. He supposed staying straight would have been more challenging in New York or Los Angeles than it was in Sydney, and it was not without its slip ups there either. He frowned at the building the yellow cab stopped in front of. There was a doorman waiting and then a security deal inside so he knew it was where his pseudo niece, Emmeline Clifford lived, but it was dull and drab. It didn't seem like the kind of place where she belonged at all. He hadn't even seen the neon light of a girl yet, but Luke could sense that something was off before he even stepped out onto the pavement.

It was quarter to eleven in the evening and it dawned on Luke that he didn't mention to Emmeline that he was coming. Maybe she was out dancing on a table top or she could have been fast asleep due to an early call time. As he went to sign in with the front desk security employee, he realized he didn't know the kids like he did when they were small and forced the be on tour. It was possible that Emmeline still loved paper dolls and plastic pearls, but Luke doubted it.

He took the elevator up to the 20th floor where Emmeline reigned over the Flat Iron district and had been for almost a month now. Luke wondered if he should have brought her something. It wasn't the right time for muffins or coffee, but he wondered if he should have thought to come with a house warming gift. That was always Cagney's department. He considered just giving her a check, but he knew that wasn't what most people considered sentimental or classy.

The elevator released him with a bright ping and he was surprised to see Emmeline almost instantly. She was unlocking her door with a green Chloe purse thrown over her shoulder and a pair of torturous Brian Atwood pumps in the same hand she was using on the door. She didn't look like Emmeline though. She had long ginger hair that ran straight as a needle to the small of her back. Luke blinked at it and tried to figure out on his own if it was real or not. She must have been busy as a model these days, changing her hair the way normal folk changed their underwear.

It was her though. She could feel a tall shadow cast over her and glanced behind her bare shoulder, the top of her dress starting at her clavicle. Luke saw Michael's eyes with her mother's busy and turbulent stare. Emmeline pushed her apartment door open and tossed her purse and shoes inside before letting out a delighted squeal and running to hug her Uncle.

"This is the best part of my day and I got to try on vintage Halston!" She giggled in his ear as she stood on the tips of toes and embraced his neck. When she was as close as she currently was, Luke could sense all the changes of a few weeks in her. She had a cough for starters, but he had to lean in closer to hug her in return. Pieces of her body were missing and the glow of her skin was painted on like her emerald green smokey eye. "Oh my God, how's Penny? Does she own Paris already?" Emmeline asked very sincerely once she dropped down to her regular height. She looked over her uncle and could just tell he was jet lagged. Emme pushed her door open again, picking up her discarded items, and led him inside the large space she was calling home for now.

"Not quite owning it." Luke chuckled and followed his niece into the darkness before she slid the dimmer switch upward and revealed her messy place. There was a stair master in front of her couch covered in blankets, but as far as Luke could tell Emme was just using the water bottle older for an ash tray and the rest as an impractical clothing rack. The sight distracted him and he lost his own answer as well as Emmeline. He found her putting her shoes and purse down on her black kitchen island and shaking out her heavy hair. "She's going to be fine though. She's pretty excited to be on her own. How about you? You must love being out here."

"I do." Practically whistling as she tightened her arms to her sides, Emmeline responded. "I've been busy, so the place is kind of a messy." Waving her hands in front of her to showcase the space, she excused herself. "I also just choose to live this way." Making him laugh, Emmeline added with a shrug before taking the brown elastic from her wrist and tying up her heavy locks that she wasn't used to after wearing for about eighteen hours. She left it in a long swinging ponytail and looked over her Uncle Luke. He was walking deeper into her apartment, observing the surface. She squished her lips together to the side, concerned he was going to report every thing he spotted and every word she said back to her parents who she was avoiding. Ever since Michael left, she only spoke to him through vicious voice mails. Her mother and her had strained conversations, but mostly over text and email.

"Eddie visit you already?" Luke leaned up against the other side of the island and nodded to his left shoulder, motioning at the few Polaroids magnetically attached to her fridge door. The centre one of her and Edwin Styles kissing. He had on a tailored black peacoat while she was in a top that looked more like a satin bra leaving Luke to wonder what the weather situation was outside of the Freedom tours.

"Yes. He just left a few days ago, but he will be back." She gave the fridge her attention, looking at the picture of her and Iden under a bright purple star magnet. It was taken the day after she left and right before she pulled on his ear and made him groan in pain. Her smile beaming with amusement.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Like the terrible gossip he was, Luke came right out and asked before knitting his eyebrows at the sight of the prescription bottle shining orange inside her purse and the different empty champagne bottles that were collecting around the top of her sleek black cabinets. He couldn't help, but think back to when he first began touring by himself, when people only ever said "yes" to him, he imagined Emmeline was beginning to encounter a lot of those scenarios. He could see her enjoying the attention and pleasure just the way he had.

"I don't know." Surprising him and bringing his attention back to her, she answered and yawned. Emmeline stretched out her arms, hearing both shoulders crack before sliding up on top of the kitchen island to make herself more comfortable. "We spend a lot of time together and we are supportive..." Bored with herself, she began to explain. "He is definitely obsessed with me, he says he's in love, but I just don't know." She finished by shaking her ponytail back and forth against her back, not sure which way she was going to go.

Luke didn't press for more, but Emmeline found more to say. She always did, "Sometimes I feel like I have to be with him because he's the only person who likes this life. And you know me, I don't like anything I have to do."

"What do you mean 'this life'?" He had a hunch, but he knew better than to assume. It had been one of Penny's biggest pet peeves with him that he always assumed what she was feeling or thinking.

Emme patted her matte Bordeaux colored lip and tried to find words to describe what she meant. It wasn't as if anyone asked her hard hitting questions out there. Sometimes she didn't think anyone would care how she felt if she didn't raise her voice and let them know. Luke moved deeper into the kitchen, noting how bare it was. He opened up the fridge as his stomach gurgled, but the contents inside couldn't even make a sandwich. He only saw a half finished Pom juice, a six pack of wild berry apple sauce with four containers left, and a bull bag of baby carrots. It caused him enough concern that he pulled open the cupboard beside it, fully snooping. It was sad to Luke that he felt relieved when he saw a box of minute rice and a dozen cans of tuna.

"You know those times where people don't invite you to their birthday parties or," Emmeline stopped watching her Uncle look around her place and started to rummage through her purse. She never had a hard time being herself no matter who the company she was keeping was. "Think of the times where one of your kids asked you not to pick them up or come to a Christmas recital because of the attention you'd bring, that's what I mean." Emmeline pulled out a carton of cigarettes, putting one between her lips and offering the pack to her tired uncle. She could see him thinking about whether or not he should. "I won't tell Aunt Keg." Emmeline promised with a silly smile, keeping the smoke still.

"You feel like a bit of liability." Luke remembered the feeling well. It came with living a public life. He took the cigarette and leaned in for the light from her plastic Bic lighter once she was finished with it. He knew Michael and Grace would not be impressed with him, but at least he had Emmeline talking. She was trying her best to freeze them out since they announced they were getting divorced.

"Yeah." Emme agreed, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. Luke understood why she was a model. She made even something as tacky as smoking look good. Emmeline was truly stunning and he hoped the industry wouldn't stomp out her soul. It had always been the fireworks that set off inside of her that made her stand out. He didn't want to see her soulless. Her face seemed so much more hollow than it was under the Sydney sun. "I just think it's too much for a lot of people and I get that. They think they want to be a part of it, so they invite you to hang out or they cozy up with you only to freak out later because it's beyond control and it's a hazard." She was talking from experience. Emmeline was meeting some loneliness in New York and she hadn't felt that way since she was much younger. There was a time when she struggled with her Dad always being on the road and she always felt alone when Iden would slip into a depressive episode. “Not everyone can do it all the time. People want breaks and my life is starting to not have time for those.”

Luke knew exactly what she was talking about. Those days didn't feel all that far away for him even though they were ages ago. He didn't envy her. It was a very lonesome place to be even though hands would reach out from every corner for a piece of the spotlight.

"You can find people who can handle it." Luke tried to assure her as he hoisted himself up on the counter, his long legs barely dangling over the hardwood floor. "You are lucky to have friends who know that life." Luke always thought that it was great all the kids from the band few up together. He lost a lot of buddies when he started to gain notoriety. Like Emmeline said, his new life was just too much. It hurt even if he understood the situation. "You could talk to Penny about it." He suggested. He wanted their friendship to stay strong. They had been close since Penelope was born.

"I know."

"Or your Dad." Blowing his exhale right at her, Luke tried again. Instead of a response, she arched her back and then let her eyes shoot sharp daggers at him. "Come on, Emme, I had to try."

"There's cups in the cupboard beside you if you need an ashtray." She frowned.

Luke pulled the door closest to his head open and chose the first white teacup he could see with its dainty violets all over. He spotted diet pills on the second shelf and cleared his throat confront her about it.

"So, Molly got arrested." Emmeline chimed in first, digging deeper into their gossip session. Her legs were folded at the ankles as she wiggles her toes around for her own entertainment. "I really thought it would be somebody else. I never pegged Molly."

"Yeah." Out of reflex, he laughed in a sigh. "Who did you think it would be? March?"

"No, he's too depressed for that right now. I'm surprised you stopped here actually. I thought you would want to go straight home and pull him out of bed, hose him down." She had heard through Miles that March had decided to boycott personal hygiene while working his way through his first heartbreak. This was very different than when Taco Bell discontinued his favourite salsa option.

"I sent him a text, but Cagney says he hasn't been answering messages." Luke explained even though he knew it wasn't a very solid excuse. Truthfully, he hadn't the slightest clue what to say to March. He always thought Daphne was too good for his youngest son, but he knew that wasn't a very comforting thing to say.

"You didn't call?" Emmeline was stunned. She was always dramatic so Luke didn't bat an eye when she pretended to drop her lit cigarette from her mouth. "Michael Clifford is out of the running this year, you could have been a shoo-in for Father of The Year." In her typical fashion, Emmeline teased. "Uncle Ash is disqualified thanks to his criminal daughter. You could have had it, Uncle Luke! It was almost in the bag!"

He knew she was right even if she was making him laugh. The sentiment on how easy it could have been to offer March support was not lost on him. Luke has accidentally used being in Paris as an excuse, but in his defense, setting his daughter up and readying himself to leave her behind had been very time consuming.

"Have you eaten?" Bluntly, he asked, watching as Emmeline slid off of the counter like a very clumsy snake. She walked over to him and put out her long Camel in the tea cup he was using. She avoided eye contact with him and sucked in her stomach, a bad habit she had formed from watching her mother do it in front of the mirror for as long as she could remember.

"I'm fine. An agent took me out earlier."

"You have no food in your kitchen."

"I'm not a very good cook." Very honestly, Emmeline excused herself. "I eat a lot of take out."

"Champagne isn't a very balanced diet." With the burning end of his cigarette, Luke pointed to the collection above before blowing smoke rings at it.

"I think I just heard teenage Luke Hemmings die." Emme snorted as she rested a hand on her hip and jet it away from him. She had heard the stories she knew how impossibly hard her dad and his band mates used to party. Hell, she had lived through a lot of it.

"I was more of a hard liquor kind of a kid." With a smirk that exposed the same amount of attitude as sticking out his tongue, Luke retorted. "I'm hungry. If I get food, will you come along?" He felt his odds were pretty good for getting her to eat. He wasn't convinced by her sharp cheek bones, missing roller coaster curves, and empty cupboards that she had been taking very good care of herself. "Do you have an early morning?"

"Not really." She was supposed to go to a spin class and meet with her agency appointed trainer, but Emme didn't care enough to respect that 8 AM commitment. "I could show you a cool place. It's in a basement in Rose Hill."

"What kind of food?" He would always think with his stomach.

"Sushi. It's a martini bar, but they serve sushi."

"What are you doing at a martini bar?" She was underage. He knew that never stopped him from going to clubs in the United States when he was a teen, but he was older now and cared about his niece more than any girl that danced wasted in the clubs he went too. She was his best friend's kid and his daughter's best friend. Emmeline felt like one of his own.

When Michael first informed everyone that Emme would be moving to New York after she graduated, Luke wasn't the least bit worried. She was always very headstrong. Emmeline seemed to know who she was from day one. It was almost haunting now to see her smaller. She had been larger than life since he first held her, her lungs letting out cries that rock stars all over the world could envy.

"I like their tuna bakudan." Fixing him a stare that said, 'Give me a break', Emme informed him. She didn't mind their lemon gin martinis either, but she only ever had them because no one carded her there. Her adult body had been getting her where she wasn't welcomed since she was fifteen.

"Sure." He put out his smoke and dropped the filter into the cup. "Do you want to change into something more comfortable?"

"I am comfortable." Looking down at her skin tight velvet outfit, Emmeline deadpanned before heading to her bedroom to do just as he suggested. She figured it would be nice to be able to breathe properly if they were going out into the night.

While he waited, Luke stood up on the ground and focused on her fridge. The few contents truly bothered him. He knew how much Michael worried about his daughter's self esteem and how brutal the modelling industry could be. Luke felt out of his element though. This was a territory he had never treaded before. He knew that Ashton once dated a girl with an eating disorder, but he doubted that history would help him out now. He never had to deal with that with his own kids. Miles had a very healthy appetite and loved his body. He walked the line of vanity and sometimes he was just tiptoeing. Miles could not have cared less about society's ideals of beauty. He thought supermodels and hot pockets were on the same level when it came to sexiness. Then Penelope, flat chested and tall like her Dad, never really made mention of her body. Luke only realized now how lucky he was for that. He wondered if she had ever confided in Cagney about her feelings of self worth. Maybe she knew more than he did.

Luke studied the photo of Eddie and Emmeline, noticing this time the photo below of Emmeline with a feather boa wrapped around her neck and a gorgeous male model knocking his head against hers as he flashed his a 25,000 dollar grin at the camera. On the small whiteboard that was magnetized to the top of the fridge, a black lipstick stain was left with a phone number under it and the name "Morgan". He wondered if it was female or male, but his thoughts were interrupted when he jumped out of his skin at the sound of Emmeline's cell phone buzzing from inside her bag. It purred viciously, harder than her cat did under her bed, and poured onto the island. He almost snooped, but he heard Emmeline's door open and he stopped himself, fisting both hands into the pockets of his jean jacket.

"Is it cool if I leave my suitcase here?" He asked before Emmeline emerged.

"Yeah. You can sleep in the spare room, you know? Don't worry about a hotel." His flight was early and they were practically family. "I'm ready." Emmeline tugged on the bottom of her crop top sweater and went to fetch her bag. Luke was puzzled by her shirt. He didn't understand what the point of a sweater that didn't cover you was, but he didn't ask. She had fallen in love with it when she saw it in the lost and found at a nightclub in Brooklyn. He concentrated on attempting to read Emmeline's face as she read her text. It looked annoyed, but she was keeping her back to him at an angle.

“Are you sure you're ready? Everything okay?” He could exercise paitience with Emmeline. She wasn't his child and something about that lack of responsibility brought out a warm easiness out of Luke.

“Oh yeah.” Emmeline groaned and stuffed her phone back into bag before pulling it over her shoulder. Luke couldn't see her face yet, but he knew underneath her big fake lashes that she had rolled her eyes around. “It's just, like, every model here does blow.” She informed him while lifting up both her arms and tying her long locks into a tight and much bouncier ponytail. She had longed to have it out of her face all day.

Her words stunned Luke, but not the blaise way in which she said them. It was as if she had just told him a new television show that she was binge watching or that her cat, Harriet, had scratched a curtain.

“Can't be every model,” He set up while stroking the stubble all over his chin. He had only shaved once while in Paris. “Do you?”

“No, I don't want to.” Settling his concerns, Emmeline confidently said as she strolled by the door. On her way, she picked up a pair of slip on black shoes.

It was comforting to hear that Emmeline 'did not want to' do drugs. In Luke's experience, it was impossible to get Emmeline Clifford to do anything she simply did not want to do.

“You don't have to.” From ear to ear, Luke grinned and clapped his hands together as he followed behind her to the door.

“Not planning to.” Emmeline held the door open for him, his hand holding it for her to go first.

“Emme, you know you can talk to me.” He liked to think he was a pretty cool uncle actually. It wasn't as if she had any actual biological uncles on either side, so she was stuck with Michael's band brothers. He pushed the arrow facing down and waited for the elevator, waiting for Emme to open up. She wasn't exactly known for being a vault.

“Thanks, Gossip Girl,” She poked him in his shoulder and teased. “but it's not like you did coke more than once. What do you know?”

Cold, but sharp, he felt a rock lodge in his throat and he wondered if it looked as big as it felt. He didn't want the ever observative Emmeline to see how unstable he suddenly felt. The elevator doors widened and Luke shuffled her in, following quickly behind and watching her click the ground level's square button. He wasn't sure if there would ever be a good venue or time to share with Emmeline old stories of the darker days he found when he followed a path that a world of 'yes', opportunists, and not real friends. Mostly Luke just worried about the stories making their way back to his own children. He didn't think either of his boys had a clue that he struggled with cleaning up his act when they were just crying potatoes. He and Penelope never discussed it, but Luke didn't know if that was because she didn't know, didn't remember, or didn't care. It was embarrassing. Emmeline had surprised him many times before with the information she had managed to get her manicured hands on.

“I know about pressure.” Luke settled on saying as they walked out of the apartment build, both thanking the doorman in near unison.

Breathing in the warm winds of summer, Emmeline grinned into the humidity and linked her arm with her Uncle Luke's as if she was about to lead him down a yellow brick road.

“Can we talk about something else? Like Connor's tour or Molly's, like, giant beef patty of a boyfriend. Have you Googled him?” She began to gab. There was so much going on and both she and Luke were very out of the loop.

*************************** Holding a yellow-green maple leaf in both hands that Emmeline had asked him to keep since she found it to be particularly interesting, Michael stared at it with tired and blank eyes - looking without paying much attention. He was happy for his friends, getting married on a September Saturday with low winds in Toronto, but he was also exhausted. This was his day off, first in a week, and he was tired from catching a red eye from Illinois to be there to watch two people wed.

"Daddy?" Emmeline interrupted the stillness in his mind. She sat up straight after slouching down on her bottom over the bench they had taken to in the courtyard of the country club. Emmeline was growing bored and he took her out to blow off some steam, run around in an open field in her puffy white flower girl dress that reminded her of the snowballs she had seen kids playing with on television. Michael was enjoying the fresh air too. He could have brought her back inside a few minutes ago as she had run back to him and climbed up on the bench by herself. Once Michael rolled his head to face her, their eyes mirroring each others, Emmeline began again, "Am I pretty?"

It caught him off guard, but he reached down and very casually pat her hair that had been pulled back into two tight braids tied on the side of her head, "Of course you are." It was a strange question, but he chose not to pry. Emmeline was always spouting off questions about everything she saw, smelled, and felt.

"Am I pretty like Mommy?" It sounded like a very different question even if the answer, to Michael, was exactly the same. He sighed into a slight chuckle this time. Emmeline was squishing her lips together like a very dramatic cartoon fish, waiting for him to respond. She was at that age where it didn't matter what he said, he was her Dad and he knew everything.

"Yes, you are." Michael promised her again with a gentle dip of his chin. "People tell you that you look like mom all the time." It was very high praise for someone as Michael had felt like his wife was so striking that she belonged in the Smithsonian. Right now, they were in a great place, but even when they were working their way through a rough patch, Michael felt like Grace shone brighter than everyone else in a room. Emmeline certainly favored him facially, but she had all of her mother's gestures and expressions especially the deadpan 'I don't expect anything from you' face much to Mike's dismay.

"Yeah!" Emmeline jumped up in a huff. "But I have your eyebulbs too!" As if to prove her point, her pulled down on her cheeks and held her eyes open at him, standing between his knees and shaking her stretched out face around.

Emmeline had been calling eyes "eyebulbs" for as long as Michael could remember and he knew he should correct her so that she didn't turn into a teenager who actually thought that was what that body part was called, but he found it very endearing.

"You don't think mine are pretty?" Mustering up enough energy, Michael leaned in close so their noses were just an inch away from one another and blinked his eyes rapidly at her. As soon as she laughed, he brought her close to his chest with one hand behind her back, tickling at her.

"Yes!" She practically squealed as she clenched her elbows into her ribs, a weak defence against her dad's digging fingers.

"Everybody says I'm pretty and I don't know how?!" Once he gave her a break to catch her breath, Michael sat up straight and pushed his back against the cold metal bench to listen. Emmeline held her hands up at her ears, showing him just how uncertain she was. "Why do they say that?" She was a stunning baby with eyes like mines blue gems that changed colour with the angle of the sun or the low gaze of the moon. She had her father's extra pale complexion and naturally pinched red lips. People stopped Grace when she would push Emme's stroller through the mall just to rhapsodize over how beautiful the little girl was. Emmeline had been being poked and adored for her features from day one and she was only now understanding that she didn't know what all the dis was about.

"They say that because it's a compliment." Michael simply informed her. It dawned on him that if he mishandled the topic he could cause lasting damage, but it was the truth. "But you know what's more important to me?" Cupping his hands together between the knees of his black dress pants, Michael engaged her. She leaned in close and put a hand over her ear as if he was about to share a juicy secret with her. "It's more important to me that you're smart, and nice, and happy." Michael rattled off, taking her hand from her ear lightly and giving it a little kiss.

"Oh! I am!" She took back her hand and twirled around in her puff of a dress, watching the fabric move under her. "I am smart and happy!" She omitted 'nice' because her Mom was always telling her the way she tried to play with her one year old brother wasn't very nice. It wasn't Emmeline's fault that he couldn't catch the Barbie dolls she tossed in his direction.

"Good." Michael agreed while standing up. He stretched out while bending backwards lightly to try and crack his backside. "Okay, let's go back inside." He nodded his head to his right shoulder, trying to corral her to follow him back into the reception hall of the country club. Emmeline was moving in the opposite direction though, twirling closer and closer to the golf course they were staring out at. "Emmy!" He yelled, but she didn't stop or come back. Michael could see that she grinned at the sound of her name, knowing full well she was being a touch bratty. "Emmeline." He had a half mind to count to three, but that was reserved for when she was being an absolute nightmare of a child. Michael sighed and forgot all about her leaf on the bench. He moved straight for her, capturing her off guard as she was spinning. He hooked his hands under her pits and spun her around. Like a bullet meeting the air sharply, she laughed furiously.

"It's also important to me that you listen." He grumbled into her pearl pierced ear before sneaking a kiss onto her chin.

Michael carried her inside, her proud smile beaming, and then set her down on the ivory floor where she walked nicely in front of him instead of running like the speed of light.

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

While mainlining sushi rolls into his mouth, eager to conquer his hunger, Luke watched with bewildered and unimpressed eyes as Emmeline filled up on ginger tea and pickled cabbage. They had ordered six rolls between them and she had only put one piece of tuna bakudan on her small brown plate. Luke's concern grew, but he didn't know how to approach the subject. He knew Emmeline's world had drastically changed between her parents impending divorce and setting up roots in New York, he understood everyone had their own way of coping with change as he had experienced his own penchant for handling change poorly, but he had a hard time sitting there and not confronting the issue. If it was Penelope, he would have just come right out and asked her what the hell was going on. Emmeline wasn't under his jurisdiction though. It wasn't like when they were kids and raised by a village. He couldn't put her on a time out or make any choice for her.

"Have you made any new friends out here?" Pausing on the rolls, Luke reached for his cup of jasmine tea and cleared his throat from the delicious taste of raw red tuna.

"Not really." Thinking about it for all of six seconds, she responded while moving the thin pieces of pink cabbage around her plate with a single chopstick. "I mean, I knew a couple girls out here from runway stuff and they introduced me to some other people, but they were pretty boring." Everyone knew that Emmeline hated being bored above anything else. It scratched at her skin like claws of an invisible demon. "Eddie has friends out here, but they seem like real Arzayleas to me." Smirking, she looked up from her plate and watched for her uncle's reaction. The blue green tint in her eyes almost blinded him as the dim lights of the lounge caught them at the right angle.

"A real what?" Almost choking on his sashimi Luke pat down on his clavicle and asked.

"Dad always called our friends he didn't trust that." She explained casually like she wasn't teasing him about a part of his former life. "Users, hanger-onners, opportunists, social media influ-"

"I get it." Shaking his head low, Luke stopped her. "I was very young." He tried to excuse himself to his gossipy niece.

"Is that an excuse for making bad decisions?"

"You tell me," Knowing he could play her game too, Luke retorted, "Girl filling up on flecks of pickled cabbage and tea." He raised his a single untamed brow at her in accusatory manner at her.

"I have a fitting tomorrow afternoon." She explained, but Like didn't care.

"Try the California roll." He picked one up from the communal plate between them with his soy sauce kissed chopsticks and plopped it down by her other untouched roll. Luke knew he said "try", but it was not open to negotiation. “You've had a couple shoots since you've been out here.” He decided to move on once Emmeline reached over her plate for the soy sauce, pouring a little for dipping in the small tray beside her. “You haven't met anybody nice on set?” He knew models didn't have reputation for being friendly. His friends had dated enough for him to know that and he had slept his way through a couple long legs himself, but Luke figured there was an exception to every role. It was just like how everyone assumed all rock stars were total asshats, but Calum Hood remained level headed and kind for as long as Luke had known him.

“Not really. Makeup artists tend to be nice, but they're paid to be.” She knew that to be a fact as she had had her face fussed over by so many different artists before. She didn't know if any of them were being sincere when they showed interest in her feelings and comfort. She knew she was just a vase they were instructed to paint in order to sell in a shop window. It didn't bother Emmeline in the slightest. The truth, up until her parents announcing their split, had never made her uncomfortable.

“Are you enjoying yourself out here?” Not convinced, Luke checked.

“Oh yeah, of course!” Emmeline assured him loudly, practically shouting as she picked up her chopsticks to eat the first roll in front of her. “There's nowhere else I want to be right now.” She knew she was very lucky. There were a hundred girls who had never so much as been seen by an agent who would murder her to be in her position. Emmeline tried not to be ungrateful. “I love it out here. I don't need friends to be happy.” She was always the center of attention in her own world. She didn't need the approval of others to feel good. Emmeline thought she had a very healthy amount of confidence. “I have friends. They're just in Australia and LA mostly.” And Paris now that Penelope was chasing after a new dream of becoming a culinary whiz.

“Good.” He was truly glad to hear it. “You think you want to model forever?” He wasn't sure how long the shelf life was in the industry. He remembered his parents drilling it into him that he needed to have a backup plan if his music dreams didn't pan out or last as long he wished them to. Luke still didn't know what the Hell he would do if one day all his opportunities faded.

“Maybe.” She said after swallowing her roll and taking her finger down from her lips where it had asked for a minute. “I'm going to keep doing this for as long as I can get away with it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know what else I would really do.” When she looked at University majors online, there was nothing that jumped out at her. “I've never tried to be anything besides pretty if I'm being honest.” She craved a cigarette, but decided to just muscle her way through the California roll instead, picking it up with her chopsticks and holding it by her face as she spoke. “One day, I won't be pretty enough because what people are into will have changed,” She thought she knew the reality of things despite being very fresh to the industry and I'll have to find something else.” She shrugged as it was so simple. “Maybe, I'll sell shoes.” She guessed before popping the roll into her mouth, her lipstick beginning to fade into a soft ombre from eating and sipping on tea. Emmeline hadn't realized how deeply her Uncle Luke was listening until she brought her eyes back up from checking into her purse on the floor, right under the table. Her phone had lit up, but she couldn't tell what the message read. She imagined it would be one of her parents, still trying to make her talk to them.

“Shoes?” He didn't know why he was so surprised, but Emmeline always had a way of making his brows raise.

“I like shoes.” She summed up. “I'm also a very good salesperson. I can make anyone do anything.” There was the confidence he knew to be strong in her. “Or I could work for Molly or something. If she keeps tying herself to trees, she'll need a lawyer.” Emmeline joked and laughed as she made Luke snort. “Or a nanny for all her rugby babies.” Emmeline didn't fancy children and figured she would make as bad a nanny as she would a mother, but it was still an option.

“I think you're selling yourself a bit short.” Luke never thought he would say that to her.

“You know my mum is talking about going back to school.” Iden had told her over Skype a few days before. “She's all about 'Chapter 2' and creating herself now.” Or so it had been explained to Emme by her baby brother. “She's always been obsessed with having an identity outside of being Michael Clifford's wife.” She said her dad's name like it didn't taste good in her mouth, like she had to speak around it or even spit after.

“I think that's awesome.” Luke nodded along, eager to ask Cagney about it. He liked to know the details on everyone's life. A natural born gossip just like Emmeline Clifford. “Your mom put a lot on hold for a long time.” People gave Grace guff for being brash and easily annoyed, but she was generous. She always took care of everyone around her. Luke remembered always being impressed by how easily she could just rise to the occasion whenever anyone is in need. She remembered every crew members birthday, she researched alternatives when Luke had to make the entire tour staff aware of Penelope's peanut allergy, and she would always put Michael first even after one of their knockdown/drag out fights. It was about time she chased her own goals. “I hope she finds something she really loves.” As someone who got to live his dream, Luke always felt bad for people who weren't as fortunate. He knew everybody had a dream, but only some people got to know what it was like to wake up every day and live it.

“Me too, I guess.” Emmeline shrugged with both lips and her shoulders. She might not have been a very big fan of her parents at the moment, but Emmeline did agree with Luke. It was time for her mum to focus on herself even if it hurt Emme selfishly.

Emmeline pushed her plate away from her stomach and reached for the large, almost exploding, black binder on top of the sushi counter. She had to sit up from the chair and use both hands to maneuver it onto the space she had cleared on the table.

“What's that?”

“Karaoke starts in about ten minutes.” It was their after hours special. Martinis dropped in price, the kitchen closed, and the music began.

“You brought me to a karaoke bar?” Luke couldn't remember the last time he sang karaoke. He was pretty sure he was too drunk to speak at the time.

“It's a martini bar that has karaoke.” Not looking up from the pages as she flipped through, Emmeline corrected him. Luke poked another roll in his mouth and shook his head at her.

“Are you going to sing?” He asked before swallowing the cucumber asparagus roll. It was his least favorite, but he couldn't not order it. It was Cagney's favorite.

“Hell yeah, I'm going to sing.” Emmeline growled and flipped her hair around behind her. “You're going to sing with me.”

“I'll just be your cheer section.” Luke tried instead, but Emmeline didn't care. She didn't know when this opportunity would rear it's head again.

“Okay, what's your favourite Whitney Houston song?” She held a large amount of the laminated sheets in one hand, trying to skip to the 'W' section.

“None.” Right away, he told her.

“I don't know that one.” Emmeline grinned sarcastically at him and put down the pages. She ran her long gel fingertip down the column, searching for a song that would be the right one for them.

“I didn't spend a lot of time getting to know her catalogue of music.”

“Well, I'm not about to cover Blink-182 or one of your old punky-pop bands, so we're going to have to compromise.” While Emmeline was occupied with big book of songs, Luke took the chance to check his phone from his pocket. He wanted an update from Penelope on how she was doing, but he wasn't sure what time it was in Paris at the moment. He checked to see if he missed any news on March or Miles from Cagney, but all he saw was a text from Michael, asking how his visit was going with Emmeline. Luke glanced up at her, leaning right over the book and poking her finger in the middle of the left page.

“I found the perfect song! Oh my god!” Emmeline jumped up and down in her chair like she would as a little girl when someone said she could have dessert. She clapped her hands like a seal in front of her face. Emmeline scurried out of her chair to go and sign them up, leaving Luke chuckling to himself as he typed out a response to his best friend.

'She's good, Mike. Lots of smiling.' It wasn't a lie. Luke just felt like he should wait until he was face to face with the guitarist before telling him about his concerns that she wasn't taking care of herself. He put his phone back into the pocket of his pants as a gust of wind blew over him. Luke looked up and saw that Emmeline had just run over. Music had begun playing and people were moving to tables closer to the stage as karaoke was starting. Eagerly, she took the wrist from his hand that was resting on the table top and yanked on it.

“Dance with me!” She begged, not asked. It was hard for Luke to say 'no' as much as he wanted to. Emmeline was like a force of nature that sucked people in, but he also knew how angry she had been when she realized her parents were splitting up. Luke thought if dancing would make her happy, it was the very least he could do. Her hips were already wiggling around and her head bopping from one side to the other when he reluctantly sat up and let her pull her closer to the small stage by the front windows.

The man up on the stage with the microphone let out quick lyrics effortlessly, performing with all his energy an extra enthusiastic version of Gloria Estefan's Conga. Luke figured out right away that he was the evening's MC. He watched as Emmeline began to do her version of salsa dancing right in front of him, in the middle of the small dance floor. She was lost inside of herself, listening to the music and allowing herself to be free. It was sort of inspiring as he reached out to spin her into his chest and then out again, just like he had done a few times when she was little and wanted a turn after he had spun Penelope or Molly around. Luke watched as Emmeline sang along to every word like she had grown up on Miami Sound Machine. He knew for a fact that she hadn't so Luke concluded that Emmeline had probably come to the martini spot with Eddie a few times (a man who would walk off a cliff naked with Emmeline Clifford told him to) or by herself since she told him how few friends she had out in New York. She was infectious as she danced around him, quickly, snapping her fingers above her head as her new red hair fell everywhere around her. Before Luke knew it, he was giving into the Latin disco song and throwing his own head around, singing along off key to the chorus. Strangely, it was exactly what he needed to lose his worries about Penelope being alone in a foreign city.

The song ended and Luke realized only on the last note that he was out of breath and actually sweating from dancing around wildly with his outgoing niece. She turned her back to him to applaud the singer, cheering for him as loud as she could. Luke wanted to join in, but he had to put his hands on his sides and try to slow his heart down. He was cool. He didn't want to die during karaoke.

“Alright, welcome to karaoke!” Absolutely unaffected to the fast song he had just been crooning to, the MC shouted into the microphone. “We've got the gorgeous Emmy Clifford starting us off tonight.” He read out while checking the paper of people who had signed up. “And....” He squinted and tried to make out her writing in the dark, it was small and in cursive that hugged each letter. “Luke Hemmings.” He made out and started to applaud them supportively.

Emme practically ran to the stage, taking the mic that the MC held out, while Luke made his way very slowly and pulled out the second microphone stand. He was used to playing in front of sold out arenas, but right now, he felt as nervous as he had when changing Penelope's diaper for the first time. He still swore that even at two days old she mocked him and he was scared these people would as well.

“I Wanna Dance With Somebody?” Backing up from the mic, he looked at Emme and stared at her with groaning eyes that asked, 'Seriously?'

“Penny and I used to jump on my bed and sing this song to each other in our hairbrushes.” She shouted right into Luke's ear over the starting bars. “We thought it was 'Wanna Dance With a Monkey'.” Her nose hiked itself up between her eyes as she recalled the memory, pleased it made Luke laugh. As little girls, they loved the song after hearing Emmeline's mom sing it during a car ride. They became obsessed and sang it every time they had a sleep over. Luke just read the words as Emmeline sang the first lines on her own. He was surprised at how her voice sparkled. It was as beautiful as everyone knew her to be. She was like a soft Janis Joplin. His brain instantly started to make a list of songs she could masterfully cover. “You're not singing.” She giggled at him away from the microphone before the chorus came in, Luke joining her powerfully, both of them singing like their lives depended on it. If this song meant something to her and his daughter, he was going to give it his all. He let his hand choreography shine dramatically, following Emmeline's lead.

“I need a man who will take the chance on a love that burns hot enough to last!!!” He sang out all by himself as Emmeline laughed, more with him than at him. She danced around him like her Dad might when they were performing, grinding her shoulders into his as the audience clapped playfully along with them. She couldn't wait for the last part of the song where they could sing back and forth with one another.

Once the chorus returned, Emme locked her microphone in it's stand and pointed at Luke with both fingers before bouncing backwards. She let him take center stage when the dance breakdown came, watching him as he ground his hips toward the crowd. He had lost his stage fright instantly and then pulled Emmeline close so they could do a beginner jitterbug move with one another.

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

“I want to go home.” She was five and she had had enough. Her life had an inkling of routine now. She had been to kindergarten in Australia all of the last year and while it had been challenging for Emmeline to spend weeks on end without her dad, she enjoyed school. She wasn't very good at following any of the rules or sitting still on the reading mats, but she liked being able to play with kids all the time and being able to boss the other little suckers around. Being back on tour for the summer was hard. It had been her life for years, but now that she knew a different life existed, it was not as enticing.

“We'll be back at the hotel soon.” Michael held his daughter's hand in his as they crossed the street from Eggspection, the restaurant where they went for breakfast just the two of them. It was her first day of since joining her Dad on the Canadian leg of their tour and she was over it. She didn't care that they were in Montreal, she didn't care that he put aside his morning to spend time with just her, and she didn't care that she was going to get to see Molly and Connor Irwin today. Emmeline was finished.

“No!” She ripped her hand out of his and pouted, right in the middle of the main road they were currently crossing. “Not the hotel!” She stomped her foot at him, demanding his attention and not realizing she was getting more from the cars waiting for the light to change behind her. “Home! I want to go home!” It was not yet a full tantrum, but Michael feared they were at the point of no return. Unfortunately, he had to deal with the fact that they were a street and not somewhere where he could properly diffuse the situation.

“Emmeline, come on.” He held out his hand, curling up his fingers to lead her over. His voice suggested he was not playing, but neither did the burning look in his eyes. “Emmeline.” He growled, glancing away from her for just a moment to see the light was still red. Michael checked the crosswalk and saw that he only had fifteen more seconds left before it would change. Angry, he let a hot exhale release itself through his nostrils and picked her up, signalling her to start wailing in his arms and send all of her limbs flying at once. She was kicking against his stomach and hips, screaming into his ears.

“I want grandma! I want grandma! I want grandma!” She kept yelling. Michael knew that she meant his mother since Grace had not spoken to her own in years. Once they were down a block, Michael couldn't take the noise anymore. He was also sure that he would have a bruise on one his hips if he let her continue to use him as a post.

“Emmeline Mabel, stop it!” He put her down on the ground hard, her bright pink sneakers meeting the sidewalk cement with a hard 'thud'. They had laces instead of Velcro because she was a big girl now or so she liked to inform people. Michael held her sides firmly and kept her eyes glued to his, moving his own face when she tried to leave his contact. She was going to listen to him because anything else would be made impossible. “You're not behaving yourself. This is not how we get what we want.” He confirmed for her. “This is not okay. When we get back to the hotel, you're going to go on a ten minute time out.”

“NO!” She shouted in his face and let her bottom lip jet out to blubber.

“Fifteen.” Michael was not playing. He hated being the disciplinary. It didn't feel natural, but he had a stomach ache from breakfast, he was tired from touring, and he knew he had to crackdown on Emmeline or else he would have the world's most insufferable teenager in a decade.

“That's mean.” Emmeline's wailing had turned to tears, streaks running down to burn on her pink cheeks.

“That's what happens when we throw temper tantrums.” He knew that once she cooled down they could cuddle and discuss why she was feeling the way she was, but right now Michael had to lay down the law. He stood up straight and held out his hand, taking hers as they continued to walk back to the Four Seasons. He had been looking forward to having a little alone time with her. It was rare these days and Michael felt like they both were in need of it. Emmeline didn't like to share him and, if he was being honest, he didn't like to have to give his time to people that weren't her, Iden, or Grace. He loved his job, but he knew that it was hard on his family. It was easier to manage things before them, but Michael felt like it was worth it. His international career was what provided a safe and luxurious life for them.

The rest of the walk, Emmeline sniffled and dragged her feet. She kept her fingers curled up into a fist, refusing to let her Dad properly hold her hand.

Emmeline was taken up to the hotel room, not allowed to see Daphne on their way in or even join Iden in the kitchen where he was scribbling in a coloring book and eating strawberries. Michael took her right into his and Grace's suite for the night. He plopped her down on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of it. She refused to look at him, but this time Michael didn't fight her on it.

“Fifteen minutes and then I'll come back and we will talk.” He pat her knees as he sat up and left the room, closing the door behind him. He could have closed a door twice as thick, he would have still heard Emmeline shout, 'You're the meanest Daddy ever!' behind him. It stung, but he would wait to tell her that. It would be an exhausting fifteen minutes for them both.

Only seven minutes had passed, but it felt like a year to Emmeline who couldn't tell time at all and was only what someone would classify as an okay counter. She was laying in the shape of a starfish on top of the made bed with her arms and legs spread out. The door pushed open slowly and she clenched her eyes shut. She decided that she would pretend to be asleep when her Dad came in.

Luke knew that Mike had put Emme down for a timeout, but he still snuck into the room to fetch an acoustic guitar was in it's case on the floor by the bed. He reached down to get it, but the temptation was too great.

“Hey Emmylou?” He whispered up at her. She recognized the voice was not her Dad's and rolled her head to one shoulder, popping open her eyelids to figure out who it was that was calling her by one of her many nicknames. “I hear you had a little meltdown.”

“I want to go home.” She whimpered, emotional at the thought.

“You don't want to leave me?” Boucning on his knees as he flexed his toes that held his weight, Luke playfully pouted at her. “You just got here.”

“Yes, I do. I miss home.” It wasn't Montreal's fault. It just wasn't where her grandma was, her new bed, or her favourite toys. Her mom only let her pack a few Barbies, one paper doll book, and two stuffed animals. The kids were always spoiled with toys when they travelled. Grace knew they would come home with more stuff that just took up room in luggage.

“I get that.” He empathized before coming up and sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked down at her feet, one sneaker kicked off across the room while the other was on comfortably still. “I miss you and Penny and the twins all the time.” He informed her. Luke knew as well as anyone that Emmeline loved being missed. She thrived on it. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied that hearing it made her smile slightly and wipe at her crusty lashes. “You know what helps?”

“Nothing.” She whined into her hands and then sighed.

“I like a lollie bag. I know you don't like candy, but I find if I have a lollie bag - “

“I do! I do!” Her hair was a frizzy mess behind her as she shot up straight.

“It reminds me of home.” He finished. Luke's mum still sent him care packages when he was away, but he never told Cagney because he didn't want her to stop sending the ones she curated for him. “You like Tim Tams, right?” He checked, over his shoulder and played sly.

“And raspberry.” It didn't matter the flavor. Emme was a fiend for sugar.

“Well, all I have is jellie snakes.” Luke sadly informed her with a sigh that came from the pit of his stomach and blew a slow breeze through the room. “I guess you don't want any.” He fished them out of the pouch of his well worn grey sweatshirt, showing her the colourful bag with the treats inside. He had been carrying it around because he liked leaving a trail around rooms for Miles and March to follow. It made him laugh to see them Hansel and Gretel their way around a hotel suite, eating the candies one by one and racing each other for the next.

“I can help eat them.” She scooched closer on her butt and held out her hands.

“Alright,” Luke held open the bag and watched her reach her hand deep inside, pulling out a blue raspberry flavoured gummy worm. “But I got to ask you a question first.”

Emmeline had her mouth open like a crocodile's, ready to chomp the treat with one bite, but she stopped herself and blinked rapidly up at Luke. There was always a trick for a treat it seemed.

“Are you going to apologize to your Dad?” He stumped her. She curled her fingers up around the candy and really had to think about it. He had put her on a time out, but jellie treats were delicious. “He isn't mean. He's missed you a lot and would be pretty bummed if you went home.” Luke popped one shoulder up and then the other, weighing out Emmeline's options for her. He knew how much Michael missed his kids because he had missed his own that much. Luke felt like he learned a lot about parenting from his band mates, but he often felt like Ashton set the bar too high. He didn't think he would ever be as patient or engaged as the drummer was. He and Mike, on the other hand, had a lot of the same frustrations and opinions about things. Their daughters were so close in age as well that they spent a lot of time together even when they weren't on the road, letting the girls play together at each others homes while kicking back themselves. He looked to Mike for advice a lot, fishing for it since he was too proud to come right out and ask.

“Yes.” Emmeline finally agreed and threw the snake in her mouth. “I know he loves me.” She mumbled while chewing. It was not easy to remember to not speak with food in her mouth. She always had so much she wanted to say. Emmeline reached in for more candies, taking a handful before Luke got up to leave and take the guitar.

“I was never here.” He told her even though it made no sense to Emmeline's small brain. He winked at her as she blew a candy filled kiss in his direction and then left the room.

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

“You had fun tonight.” Grinning while stretched out on her couch, all her dirty clothes since moved to a laundry hamper she rarely used, Emmeline told her Uncle while taking a drag from her last cigarette of the evening.

“I did.” Luke nodded. It could not be denied. It was the most fun he had had since exploring Paris with Penelope on her third day there, popping into different bakeries and eating everything and anything they wanted to try. His daughter had looked truly happy and that was all he wanted for her. Well, that and eternal safety. “I can't imagine someone not having a great time with you.” Genuinely, Luke shared with her. Edwin Styles was right. There really was no one else like Emmeline Clifford. “Are you going to come home at Christmas?” He wasn't sure when else he would see her. Her schedule wasn't on his anymore now that she was living on her own, eighteen and trying to make it in New York.

All at once, Emmeline's face shifted from pleased with herself to almost sad.

“I don't know where I'll be in December.” It hadn't happened since she moved to New York, but Emmeline knew that there were jobs coming up that required her to travel.

“Surely there aren't runway shows and photo shoots on Christmas Day.” He really didn't know all the different parts of her job.

“I just don't know if I'll come home. Maybe, I'll want my first Christmas here.” She supposed that she could go to London and spend it with Edwin and one of his parents and their respective families. He had more step and half siblings than she could keep track of.

“Emme, you can't avoid your parents forever.” Luke cut right to it. He knew she didn't like hearing it, but even if he hadn't her deep inhale let him know that she wasn't thrilled. Her whole stomach caved in for a full ten seconds before she furiously released smoke into the air.

“It's not going to feel like home when I go back. I know that. It's not my home if my Dad isn't in the house, if he's in some downtown condo.” Luke realized as she spat out the truth that made her bones aches that he wasn't going to be going back to the same Sydney. Penelope wouldn't be there. Connor, Molly, and Emmeline were also out facing the world by themselves. Michael was building a new life, or trying to, that Luke didn't do anything about and March was apparently just a shell of himself.

“It'll be different, but - “ Luke was trying to figure out how to support her, what he would want to say to his kids if he was in Mike's situation. He squirmed in her recliner and wished he had taken her up on her offer for a cigarette of his own.

“I feel really disconnected from them. They're in a different time zone changing everything I knew and I'm out here building something they're not a part of. “ She expressed herself bluntly, but very well and while Luke had spent a good part of their visit worrying about Emmeline, he could hear the strong girl with a deep sense of self still breathing inside of her. It settled his nerves slightly as he crossed his knees.

“It might help if you called them.” Luke suggested off the cuff. “It might make you feel more connected.”

He watched Emmeline contemplate his idea while she finished her cigarette. It was strange how quickly he grew accustom to her smoking. He didn't think that her parents would be nearly as impressed by how effortlessly she could blow perfect smoke rings.

“It just really hurts.” Her voice went hoarse for a moment as she admitted her feelings to her Uncle Luke. Emmeline had a lot of pride. She didn't like to admit that sometimes she struggled with things. She liked to be the rock in the group.

Luke nodded in agreement. He might not have been a child of divorce in any capacity, but he could sympathize with pain and reluctantly moving through change. He remembered being her age and feeling like he couldn't control anything. It was harder than raising children, but he wasn't about to tell her that.

“It's three in the morning.” He looked at the time on his phone as it lit up on top of her black coffee table from an email reminder. “We should both be sleeping.”

“Yes.” Emmeline yawned and supposed he was right. She knew she should really go to her spin class. It wasn't as if she was sitting comfortable, knowing that she ate more than she intended to. Putting out her cigarette in the same tea cup as earlier, she stood up and stretched her arms up high, her crop top exposing all of her stomach. “Goodnight, Uncle Luke.” Emmeline walked around the coffee table to him, reaching down and hugging him where he sat. “I had a lot of fun with you.” She said as he hugged her back. Emmeline crossed her arms in front of her and started to walk towards her bedroom, looking forward to cuddling with her cat and drifting off to sleep.

“I have an early flight tomorrow.” From the chair, he spoke to her back. “I might be gone before you wake up.” Luke knew he would be, but he intended to be very quiet as to not wake her.

“Okay.” Emme stopped and turned to look at him. “Can we keep in touch?”

Softly, Luke laughed out of reflex. It seemed like such a silly question to him, but he could tell that Emmeline wasn't trying to be cute or funny. She might not have said it with her words, but her face expressed that, sometimes, she was lonely. Right now, she didn't feel like she could reach out to her parents who she had always felt close to before.

“Of course, Emme. You can call me whenever. I'd really like that.” He nodded with emphasis, making sure she understood that he was being honest. If she talked to him regularly then Luke felt like he could keep an eye on her for Michael and for himself. He felt like if he paid very close attention, he could keep her from hurting her body. She might not have been one of his three children, but he still loved Emmeline dearly.

“Goodnight.” She said again and tip toed into her bedroom, closing the door tightly behind her.

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

Michael wasn't used to being as alone as he was in his new place downtown. Iden had stayed over a collection of four times, but he wasn't exactly a loud kid. He kept to himself for the most part unless they were playing a video game together. Michael was contemplating adopting a kitten. He thought looking after something small and all his own might distract him from texts that his divorce lawyer and Grace's sent him or from trying to contact Emmeline over and over. She still hadn't changed her voice mail from, 'Hi, It's Emmy, leave a message unless you're Grace or Michael Clifford. You two are the worst.', and he had become strict about checking it twice a day to see if she had.

He scrolled through his phone mindlessly at his kitchen table, distracting himself from his new solo routine, and read through the news. It was mostly depressing with the exception of a new pizzeria opening up in a nearby neighborhood. His Google alerts notified him that 'Emmeline Clifford' had five new stories attached to it. He held his bite of jam toast in his mouth and hurried to open up a new tab. Since Emmeline wouldn't keep in touch with him in any capacity, he had taken to following her through paparazzi photos of her and her friend Edwin Styles hanging out as well as any news stories about the modelling industry. So far, he had learned little about her career and a lot about where she liked to shop with Edwin carrying her bags.

Mike smiled at the small photo of her and Luke entering a restaurant together, Luke holding open the door. He read every word of the article, absorbing information about his daughter's life like a sponge. The page kept using the word 'happy' and 'smiling' to describe Luke and Emmeline. The first two times it calmed Michael's growing nerves and made him feel thankful to Luke, but after the third time, he grumbled. He was jealous. His finger stabbed at the play button that put on and video of Luke and Emmeline singing karaoke, dancing like good friends, dancing like Michael used to with her while they cleaned up their huge kitchen after having people over. Grace had made the kids do that from the time they were small in order to make cleaning more fun and less like a chore. Michael darkened his phone screen and slid it across the table before viciously taking a bite of his toast. His chest was puffed out and he was seething. He felt replaced and hurt, but the worst part was he couldn't even tell Emmeline that. She wouldn't let him. He carried his piece of toast out of the kitchen, eating while heading to his balcony to watch the pouring rain. As he went, he past a picture of Emmeline that sat on top of the shelf above his hanging television. She was three and sleeping under his arm while he was passed out in a hotel bed. Grace had taken it and it had become his favourite quickly. Emme had never been a great sleeper, but Michael could always lull her to rest with his voice and countless kisses on top of her soft head. It hurt to see the photo now and he wondered if she was ever going to let him back in.

#5sos au #5sos preferences #5sos imagines #5sos story #5sos famil #5sos oneshot #emmeline clifford #michael clifford au #michael clifford one shot #michael clifford imagine #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings #luke hemmings one shot

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narcopathicabuse · 6 years

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The 11 Most Common Narcissistic Hoovering Tactics December 27, 2016 Bree Bonchay, LCSW MANIPULATION TACTICS, NARCISSISTS

There’s a phenomenon we’ve all experienced at least one time called Synchronicity. It’s when you think of someone you haven’t thought about in years and then run into them a few hours later. Synchronicity always reminds me of another phenomenon that I call, Coincidental Hoovering. This phenomenon, more often than not, happens to the former partners, and relatives of narcissists. It’s when you finally start feeling some relief and peace in your life and make a giant Stover move like finally deleting your ex’s telephone number, or an even bigger Stover move, and change your number, and then out of the blue, you receive some kind of communication or an unexpected visit from your narcissist.

This never fails! I see it time, and time again. In fact, whenever a client tells me that they’re finally feeling better, and decided to get rid of that old box of mementos in their garage, or they’ve mustered the strength to block their ex from their mobile phone and email, I always get a little concerned.

I worry because due to the phenomenon of Coincidental Hoovering, they’re now almost certainly destined to receive some form of correspondence from their narcissist. And even though they’ve made great progress, they’re still so susceptible to being sucked back (hoovered) into the relationship, that they’ve worked so hard to forget.

Hoovers are hard to resist, especially when you finally get to hear all the things you’ve wanted to hear. But hoovers aren’t a compliment by any stretch of the imagination. You may feel a momentary sense of vindication, and confirmation to learn that your replacement target wasn’t better than you like the narcissist had made it seem on social media, but the true motivations behind the hoover aren’t what they appear to be on the surface.

The narcissist may really miss you, but not for the reasons you would want them to. They may miss what you gave them –free room and board, adulation, companionship, sex, or whatever their needs are. They may hoover you because they need a third party (you) to triangulate and manipulate their new victim with. They may just be filling their reserve tanks in preparation for periods of famine, or infidelity, and are surveying the availability of potential resources. Or, they may be in need of a quick ego boost and are looking to siphon some supply wherever they can get it the fastest, and with the least amount of effort.

It’s so easy to look for the positive in people, and wonder if maybe he/she isn’t a narcissist after all? Maybe you were wrong about them? Maybe the time apart has made him/her realize just how much they really appreciate you?

When in doubt, consider this –even though the apologies and sweet talk can be so convincing, and appear as if they’ve really changed, and truly mean what they’re saying– change for a non-narcissistic person doesn’t come easy. It is a very long, and slow process for anyone to truly change core parts of their personality. If it’s even possible for a narcissist to change, it would take years. And after years, the change may not even be very significant, or lasting. For you to realistically assess if there has been any real, and lasting change, you would need to spend at least 5 years, maybe 10 years, with many periods of relapse.

When we receive hoover messages, we instantly begin engaging in loophole-type thinking. We avoid the negative, and override the little voices in our heads, and get lost in the hope, and potential of things. After all, who wants to focus on the negative, and worry about all the doomsday what if questions, when it’s so much more enjoyable to stay in the moment and bask in the happy, positive thoughts?

But, failing to see the red flags, and the potential for serious harm is how we got here in the first place. If we neglect to read between the lines of these hoover messages or fail to remind ourselves of all the reasons we made the decision to implement no contact in the first place, we are setting ourselves up for even worse treatment the second time around. Post hoover relationships always begin with a brief honeymoon period where everything is Amaaaazing, and then they are followed by an even worse, and more rapid devalue period than the first go round.

The 11 Most Common Hoovering Tactics 1. The Cowardly Hoover

If you can count how many times your ex-narcissist said he/she was sorry on one hand, then you might want to prepare yourself for this tactic. This tactic is used by cowardly narcissists. The narcissist recruits a third party (usually one of their relatives) to send you a message, to get a temperature on you. The message will appear like it’s coming from the sender who is reaching out because they miss you, and just want to know how you’re doing, but it’s actually a fact-finding, temperature gauging mission the narcissist has sent them on to determine whether the coast is clear and if you’re open to contact abuse.

2. The Backhanded Hoover

The backhanded Hoover is a seemingly short, and sweet text that feigns caring, or yearning. Although, it’s a disguised insult because it’s really just a lazy text that takes all of two seconds of effort. Usually, these texts are three words or less –“I miss you.” “How are you?” “Thinking of you…”– And they’re sent with the intent to lure you back, but this time into the role of side supply.

3. The Proclamation

The proclamation is an excessively long text, or email, where the narcissist recites a litany of I’m sorry’s, and declares to have had an epiphany, and changed. The narcissist readily admits to his/her wrongdoings and misdeeds and apologizes profusely for hurting you. What’s missing from this proclamation is any real evidence of change. It’s just a lot of pretty hyperbole.

4. The Flip

The flip is a tactic where the narcissist flips the hoover back on you. Again, much like the cowardly hoover tactic, this tactic is usually executed by the more cowardly, prideful variety of narcissists. Remember too much pride is just a cover for the need to always be right. This hoover is all about securing an ego boost and surveying the amount of control they still have over you. “Did you call me?” “Was that you I saw parked in front of my house?”

5. The False Concern

The false concern is a tactic where the narcissist fakes concern for your well-being while appearing like the nice guy/gal. This tactic is used by narcissists, who are trying to disguise their real motives for contacting you beneath an aura of concern and caring. “Hey, are you okay?” “I heard you weren’t doing well, do you need anything?” “I know you don’t want to talk to me, so I won’t bother you anymore.”

6. The Purposely-Accidental Text

The purposely-accidental Hoover is intended to create a sense of urgency to sucker you into responding. It is a tactic many narcissists use to manipulate you, by appealing to your innate quality of compassion, by creating a sense of urgency. This type of text is sent to you on purpose but is camouflaged to appear to be sent to you by mistake, so you’ll feel a sense of obligation, and urgency to respond, and let the narcissist know to re-send the message to the intended recipient. “Mom’s flight has been changed, she wanted me to tell you to pick her up at 7:00 pm instead of 9:00 pm tonight.” “Hey, I’m hung up at work and I won’t be able to go over to your house and feed your dog. Sorry!”

7. The Sentimental Tug

This hoover tactic is meant to trick you into reminiscing about the past and becoming nostalgic, by reminding you of the sentimental moments the two of you shared. It may be littered with kissy face emojis, and xoxo’s, or it could be an inside joke only you would understand. “Hi, I just finished watching our favorite movie, and couldn’t help thinking of you.” “I was cleaning out my desk drawer, and found that card you gave me for my birthday.”

8. The Crisis

This tactic of needing to inform you about some real, or fabricated crisis, is a desperate tactic used to elicit and exploit your sympathy, and concern. Narcissists love to play the role of victim and get people to feel sorry for them. “My best friend was just diagnosed with cancer.” “I just got out of the hospital.” “Something horrible (fill in the blank_____) just happened, and I’m having a really difficult time right now.”

9. The Excuse To Contact Object

Many narcissists will purposely leave something of theirs at your house, and conveniently forget to pick it up, as arranged, so they will have an excuse to contact you at some future date. Or, they will fail to return something of yours, and hold onto it as an excuse to contact you months later, with the offer to return the recently discovered item. “Hi, I found your hair tie, would you like me to drop it by?” “I still have your gym water bottle, would you like to come get it?” “I think I left my sauce pan at your house. Can you look for it and let me know?”

1o. The Abuse Amnesia Text

The narcissist sends you a text conveniently pretending to forget that they abused you, cheated on you, smeared you, and replaced you before you even had time to change your Facebook relationship status. The narcissist acts as if none of that ever happened. There is no apology, no acknowledgment, no discussion, no accountability. If he/she can forget it happened, so should you.

11. The Bait and Ghost

This cruel tactic is used to assess how much control, and influence the narcissist still has over you. Or, it could be used to find out if you’re still a potential source of supply that he/she may draw from at some future point. The narcissist will send you a text to bait you into a conversation, and as soon as you respond, the narcissist will go silent and ghost you.

If someone treated you like crap, discarded you, replaced you as if you never existed, or all of the above, and all it takes for them to wiggle their way back into your life is a cowardly hoover, apologetic email, or a purposely-accidental text, the real question you have to ask yourself before you tap send is, “By replying, what message am I sending them?”

And for those of you who have written me messages expressing how you feel worthless, and doubly rejected because your ex-narcissists hasn’t hoovered you, and you’ve read that ALL narcissists hoover. This is simply not true. All narcissists don’t hoover. But don’t think you’re in the clear just yet, because you haven’t received a hoover. Many people don’t receive hoovers until five, ten, or more years have passed. There are many reasons why your ex hasn’t hoovered you, and none of them have anything to do with your worth. The most important thing to keep in mind is, if they aren’t contacting you, you’re much better off.

Bree Bonchay, LCSW, is a psychotherapist with over 18 years of experience working in the field of mental health and trauma recovery. She specializes in helping people recover from toxic relationships and shares her insights about Narcissistic Personality Disorder and psychopathy in her blog FreeFromToxic. Her articles have been featured in major online magazines and she has appeared on radio as a guest expert. She is also a dedicated advocate, educator, and facilitates survivor support groups and workshops.

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riverofmemoriesft · 7 years

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. In Tenebris . 8

"How are you doing?"

Lucy glanced up from her book to see a quiet Levy standing behind the couch. She'd draped herself over it and was studying her friend with a worried look. Lucy gave a faint smile in response. "I'm fine," Lucy promised.

"Good." Levy smiled a fraction. "I was worried about you. So were the trio of weirdos, though I doubt two of them would admit it." She folded her arms and studied Lucy for a moment. Lucy arched an eyebrow and then narrowed her eyes.

"Alright. Where are the three troublemakers?" Lucy set her book aside with a suspicious look. "Wendy's usually hanging around and Gajeel stalks you like no tomorrow."

Levy flushed and then cleared her throat awkwardly. "They asked if they could go explore the property around the house so I gave them the clear to do it." Lucy looked at her in horror. "What? They'll be back for food later," she said defensively.

"True." Lucy rubbed her temples and then gave a groan of pain. Her wrist hadn't improved and Lucy had refused to let Wendy heal it, claiming that for the girl to use her abilities on her was cheating other people out of the pain they had to go through. "I guess it's not a big deal then. So long as they're not still missing tomorrow morning…"

"Nah. You should have seen the look on Natsu's face when he got smacked by a leaf the second he stepped outside though." Levy giggled. "It was hilarious."

Lucy smiled to herself and rested her head back. "I'm glad we decided to not call the police. They're good people, even if the two boys are idiots…"

"I'd say," Levy laughed and then rocked back on her heels. "Well, I'm going to bed. Let me know in the morning if we have some missing dragons to find, alright?"

"I will," Lucy promised, and then settled down with her book after bidding her friend good night. Levy slipped off without another word, only giving a small wave.

Lucy sighed softly and went back to reading, her eyes following the words on the page. She drew the blanket she'd brought over her shoulders and then smiled happily, content in the silence of the house.

Lucy wasn't sure at first on what woke her up. Her eyes fluttered open and she lifted her head, squinting across the darkened room at a clock they'd set up. But it was too dark to see, and she pulled her phone out afterwards. Lucy yawned.

It was early in the morning, nearly two. She'd fallen asleep reading, apparently, something she hadn't done in quite a while since she'd started sleeping more. She thanked the stress of the house for that.

A sound filled her ears, a faint crash.

"They come in and cause problems again?" Lucy mumbled to herself, drawing the blanket around her shoulders and standing. She shuffled through the dark room in bare feet, using her phone as a flashlight. She made her way down the hall past Levy's closed door, to where the tree rested.

"Natsu?" she called tiredly. "Gajeel? Wendy?"

When she reached the room, she paused, stopping dead in her tracks.

Two figures stopped dead in their tracks.

Lucy froze, too, shocked to see them there. There was an odd moment in which the trio all stared at one another.

And then Lucy whirled on her heel and scampered back the way she'd come, swearing under her breath when she heard a barked command and footsteps pounding after her. She swept into the living room and dining room with a gasp of panic when a hand caught her by the shoulder and hauled her back.

"Damn, you're fast," a voice muttered in her ear.

Judging in the dark was hard.

Judging where to nail someone with a kick in the dark was shockingly easy.

He dropped with a yelp of pain, snarling in a way that told her he wasn't entirely human. She bolted as fast as she could, wondering desperately if the trio had come back inside yet. When she reached Levy's door and saw the other person jogging in her direction, she burst into Levy's room and slammed the door shut behind her.

Levy jerked upright in her bed and blinked blearily in the dark. "Who is it?"

"Sh!" Lucy gasped, pressing a finger to her lips. "Hide in the blankets, make it look like you're just a bunch of pillows!"

Levy did as Lucy ordered, sensing the urgency in her voice. Her eyes were alarmed as she slid beneath the blankets.

Someone kicked the door sharply. "C'mon, open up. We know you're in there, Blondie."

Lucy said nothing, wishing there was a lock on the door.

"You've got three seconds before I turn into the goddamn big bad wolf. One... two…"

He inhaled sharply.

Lucy distantly remembered Natsu letting loose a gust of flames that melted a portion of stone.

She dove to the floor just as a beam of white light slammed through the wood. It splintered and turned into ash around her. The man climbed in through the hole and Lucy thought he could see perfectly fine.

"There we go. See, Rogue? Told ya there wouldn't be problems."

"You're being too cocky, Sting," the other one said lowly, breathing in deeply. "Besides. We haven't found him yet."

Lucy shrieked when she was grabbed by the ankle and picked up with ease. Hanging upside down, she struggled and flailed, not caring if her head cracked open on the hard stone. He held on tight.

Levy didn't make a sound.

That is, until the second person stalked past the first and suddenly yanked the blankets away. Levy shrieked and threw herself to the other side of the bed, but he moved to quickly and grabbed her by the back of her shirt, dragging her back.

"Let go!" Lucy hissed furiously, aiming to kick Sting in the face. He grabbed her other leg, and she contemplated how hard it would be to bite someone in the leg. It had been a while since she used her name, she knew, but she decided to spit it out anyways. "I am Lucy Heartfilia, and-"

"Oh, shut it. We know who you are, Miss Heartfilia." Lucy couldn't see his face in the darkness of Levy's room, but she could sense the grin on his face as well as the angry intent. He carefully dropped her, making sure she didn't hit her head. Before she could try to do anything, however, she was stopped by a foot landing on her chest, trapping her there.

Lucy wordlessly glared up at him, hatred lining every part of her.

How dare he invade her home and threaten them like this-

"Now," he growled, glaring down at her. Something glinted on his face as he spoke, glowing softly in the darkness. "You're going to answer some questions for me, and if you don't, my friend's gonna make sure yours suffers a little."

He stated this fiercely, a low rumble in his throat, but something told Lucy that he didn't exactly like what he was threatening.

Still, not willing to risk Levy, who was giving Rogue a surprisingly large amount of problems, she stilled.

"Good. Where's Natsu Dragneel?"

"Don't know," Lucy said icily. "Out. I think."

Not a lie.

Wendy had mentioned that she and the two males with her could sense the lies that were told. Whether it be through their racing heart, their panicked scents, whatever, they could.

And Lucy got the feeling these two were the same way.

"Okay, let's try this again." Lucy wheezed, scrabbling to shove him off as he leaned his weight on her. Her ribs groaned at the heavy pressure. "Where exactly do you think Natsu Dragneel is, Miss Heartfilia?"

Lucy fought to come up with an idea of how to keep them hidden in the back of her mind. How to lie, how to lie… "Gone," she gasped finally. "He's gone, I think… They went to explore the property, but they should have been back hours ago. They left. Abandoned us to intruders like you."

They wouldn't leave. Lucy knew that. Levy knew that.

These two didn't.

The look of annoyance on Sting's face gave her some satisfaction. "Seriously? You really think they just ran off? Well that's a pain in the goddamn ass. We're gonna have to hunt 'em down now, Rogue."

Lucy spared a look at the other - and then noticed what was piled beneath Levy's bed. There were various objects, shoved there to make room for Levy's books while she organized them onto their shelves. Levy had always been bad about that; she was constantly losing possessions because of it. Lucy had scolded her about it before, but now...she appreciated it.

Because only inches from Lucy's head was a steak knife. It was one from their kitchen - Lucy had even been looking for it recently. Levy had been using it to unpack it looked like.

Levy's hazel eyes widened a fraction when Lucy lifted her gaze to study her. She looked confused, as if she recognized that Lucy was going to try something, but wasn't sure what.

Lucy turned her gaze back on Sting. She went over her choices, hands shaking as she tried a final time to shove his foot from her. He ignored her effort, arguing with his friend about what they needed to do. So, quick as a fish, Lucy darted a hand out and wrapped her fingers over the sharp blade, ignoring the way it nicked her.

And without hesitation, Lucy plunged it up to the hilt in Sting's thigh.

She felt sick when she thought it scraped bone.

He gave a cry of agonized pain and sprang back on one foot, toppling over when he dared to put weight on it. He hit the ground with a thud. "Sting!" his friend said, a concerned twinge to his voice. He was distracted enough for Levy to smack him in the face and pull away.

"Go, go, go!" she screeched, throwing herself at the door. Lucy gave chase, vaulting through the destroyed door as a roar of anger filled the room behind them. A blast of light nearly tore into Lucy's arm and a stinging burn had blood trickling down her limb and slicking her slim fingers with blood.

She grimaced and continued to run.

"Where do we go?" Levy gasped, faltering. Left or right - the front door or further in the house.

"Left!" Lucy shrieked when she heard a sharp inhale behind them. Levy bolted and a blast of shadows struck the wall where their heads had been.

"Split up," Levy rasped when they reached the double staircase to the front door. She threw herself down one flight and Lucy started down another. Levy was out the door in no time. Lucy barely made it past the front door before something came barreling into her, knocking her harshly to the ground. She gasped in pain.

"Lucy!" Levy cried, whirling around as Rogue scowled viciously at her. But one look at the determined Lucy and she turned and ran off as quickly as she could, ignoring her bare feet.

Surely they couldn't have gone too far!?

"Damn it!" Rogue swore under his breath. He'd tackled Lucy to the ground, but was careful not to grip her arm too harshly as he dragged her to her feet. He panted quietly for breath as he hauled her back inside, kicking the door shut and locking it behind them.

"Let me go!" Lucy snarled, kicking and fighting to free herself. Rogue didn't seem to notice, crimson eyes blazing with anger.

"You stabbed me!" Sting shouted accusingly as he peered over the railing at them, a growl in his throat. He glared furiously at her. "What the fuck, man! I didn't even hurt you that badly!"

"You burned the hell out of my shoulder!" she snarled back at him unflinchingly. Yet she couldn't stop the way her body trembled. The way she shook with the pain in her shoulder, which seemed to throb and ache as she was forced back up to the main floor of her home.

Blood soaked Sting's leg and he limped over with a scowl on his face. "What the hell do we do now? The other one got away, didn't she?"

Rogue's slitted eyes flashed. "It's not," he replied, "Necessarily bad. If she finds the dragons, then they'll come back. We'll find Natsu Dragneel like that, use her as a hostage, and convince him to come that way. If we're lucky, we can trick all three of them."

Sting nodded slowly, grimacing in pain. "He said to focus on the one, but we'd be more than just gifted an extra week if we got all three…"

Lucy paid close attention to what they said. Anything for a clue on what could help her in this situation.

Rogue huffed. "Like we'd get anything. He'll kill us the second he doesn't need us anymore." His sharp gaze turned thoughtfully on the doors. "Can you handle her?"

"She stabbed my leg, not my shoulder." Sting reached out to grab Lucy from him and she simply glared and spat at him.

He ignored the glob of spit that struck his cheek, simply wiping it away and dragging her away from the front of the home. "I'll stick her somewhere she can't get out of and then I'll wait outside with you."

Lucy pressed her lips together; a chance to get away, she knew. A very slim chance it would succeed, but…

Lucy eyed his wound as Rogue reluctantly agreed and slid back down to the front door. Grinning now, Sting hauled her down the corridor, past Levy's ruined bedroom door, and to the room with the tree. She grimaced as she was pulled past it and up a flight of stairs.

"Here we go," Sting said after pulling her up another story. He shoved the blonde into a room and Lucy whirled around in time for the door to slam shut. She grimaced when she heard something heavy dragged along and settled in front of the door to bar her way out. Irritated that the doors only opened outwards, Lucy headed over to the single window in the stone room.

She scowled.

Way too high to attempt an escape.

"What to do, what to do," Lucy muttered, biting her lip. She wasn't some dragon experiment like her newfound friends, and she wasn't as smart as Levy, no matter how much she prided herself on her brain.

She just wasn't made for situations like this.

So, Lucy forced herself to calm down and pay attention to her surroundings.

She needed to knock the glass out first. There wasn't a way to open the glass panels, so she'd have to break it. Lucy went to work on testing for loose stones in the walls - and beamed when a fraction of one suddenly came off.

"There we go." She weighed it in her hand.

And then with all of her strength, she threw it right through the window.

The glass shattered on impact and she grimaced, hoping no one had been slinking around below. Cautiously, with her already injured arm, she swept glass out of the window, and then leaned out.

"Well, damn," she mumbled, pouting.

That would be a hell of a fall…

Lucy yanked her head back into the room and looked around again, frustrated.

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing in the room to help her escape. She struggled to come up with something but was left with nothing in the end. Groaning, she sank to the floor beside the shattered window, ignoring the glass shards that nicked her revealed skin, and closed her eyes.

She might as well get some sleep.

Levy ran like a bat out of hell away from the house, bare feet slapping against the earth. Her wild blue hair streamed out behind her, but she didn't seem to notice, even as branches and various other bits of nature sliced and cut at her.

She just ran.

She stopped at long last after a few minutes, and then doubled over, heaving for air. She wheezed, barely able to draw in breath. Her legs shook. How long had it been since she'd run for so long?

She didn't dare shout out, afraid that she'd attract the attention of the bastards who'd invaded their home. She took a deep breath, calming herself. "Alright," Levy said shakily. "Where could those three have gone?"

She'd made them promise that they'd stay within a few miles of the home - Wendy hadn't understood the meaning of such a distance, and neither had Natsu, but Gajeel had grunted that he'd keep them under control. So they had to be around here somewhere and with their superior senses…

Levy looked down at her bloodied feet.

They'd surely smell something.

Worried for Lucy, Levy buried her face in her hands, uncertain of what to do. They'd never dealt with anything like this... why would these strangers think that the dragons would do anything for them period? Natsu and Gajeel strongly disliked them. Only Wendy seemed to be sincere in her fondness of them.

Maybe Wendy was the key to gaining their trust?

Levy shook off her despair and looked around again. They couldn't have just vanished into thin air, which meant they were still out and about. She just had to-

Something grabbed her shoulder and Levy squawked in fear, whirling around.

Relief fluttered over her expression. "Gajeel!" she gasped, voice trembling. Her shaking legs finally gave out and she gave a breathless laugh as she hit the ground. He looked bewildered as he stared at her, flanked by the other two.

"What happened?" he demanded, frowning. "What's with the blood?"

Levy licked her dry lips and then told them, "Two...well, I'm not entirely sure, but I think they're experiments like the pair of you. But two of whatever they are broke in and attacked us. I think they want Natsu in particular," she paused to glance at the narrow-eyed dragon, "and you two are a bonus. Lucy stabbed one in the leg and we ran, but they caught her again."

Wendy's dark eyes widened in horror. "Lucy's in danger?" she cried, trilling softly in distress.

"What happened to you?" Gajeel said gruffly. "You're all bloodied up, Shrimp."

Levy shook her head. "Just scratches from the shrubbery and stuff. I'm worried about Lucy. They did some kind of...breathing thing, one had light, the other shadows."

"They're like us?" Natsu said bluntly, bewildered. And then his head swung around. "What did they want? Can't be good if they attacked ya guys."

"You, apparently." Levy threw her hands in the air, studying the odd expression on Natsu's face as he searched the trees with sharp onyx eyes. "Gajeel and Wendy are a bonus."

"Huh." Gajeel blinked, and then scowled. "Bunny Girl stuck inside?"

Levy nodded. "I don't know what they did with her," she admitted. She bit her lip. "You guys won't just...leave her, right? You'll help her?" She addressed the two males in this, not believing that Wendy would want to fight.

Yet it was Wendy who gave a fanged smile, her dark eyes glittering furiously. Levy found herself wary of the dragon for the first time in quite some time.

Gajeel snorted and Natsu scoffed. "Like hell we're not gonna help you freaks. You're the ones who fed us." Natsu rolled his eyes at her and then wrinkled his nose. "I can smell Lucy's blood from here. You guys deal with those two bastards. Should be hanging around somewhere, right?"

Levy shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted, letting Wendy look at her feet and the scratches that dotted her. She grimaced in pain when the young girl touched them. "Please, help her. She was hurt and we didn't have time to see how badly…"

Natsu flashed a quick smirk at her. "She must feel like hell if I can smell her from here." He darted off as fast as his legs could carry him and Levy admitted something that made Gajeel cackle in amusement.

"He sounds more like a dog than a dragon, saying something like that…"

"Looks more like a dog when he's sniffing, too," he told her and then suddenly ducked down. The scales on his arms had faded enough that when he suddenly lifted her, they didn't cut into her flesh. They were soft, like the scales of a snake, but she still shrieked in protest.

"Tch," he huffed, rolling his eyes as Wendy chided him. "We gotta go and you can barely walk. Calm down, Shorty."

She puffed her cheeks up furiously and glared at him, her face flushed.

He pretended not to notice and started off at a jog, Wendy not far behind.

Natsu reached the house quickly, grateful for the lack of tiredness in him. Thanks to whatever the hell had been done to them, he could go for hours without tiring, and it gave him a boost of excitement that he'd finally get to actually fight someone.

Not, he supposed with a pout, that the owners of the place deserved to be attacked for it to happen.

Because really, the two women were growing on him. He was growing fond of his snippy conversations with Lucy and the odd need Levy felt to teach them everything she could. As much as he'd claimed to hate them in the beginning…

He didn't want them to die.

Natsu followed his nose, skirting around the front of the house. He narrowed his eyes at the odd shadows that had been casually placed alongside the natural shadows cast by the moonlight. Must be the one guy Levy mentioned, he decided. He decided to not go in the front way. Breaking in would be hard and not so quiet, but…

He trotted carefully through the trees, horn curled above his head and scales dotting his tanned flesh. His sharp red eyes were narrowed, seeing through the dark with ease. Natsu swept past some shrubbery, careful not to brush across it. He knew just how sensitive their ears would be.

There!

His eyes searched the back of the building until he found something that differed from the rest of it - a shattered window. Excitement prickling through him and even making his scales rise and ripple before smoothing out again, he approached the house. He looked up, studying the shattered window four stories up.

And then he glanced back to the shadows with narrowed eyes. Too much of a risk…?

Natsu shrugged to himself and puffed a fireball right up over his head. He watched it curve above his head, eyes never leaving it.

Surely she'd notice the light?

He felt a brief flash of smug satisfaction when his sharp eyes caught sight of a golden head nervously peeking out. "Salamander?" Lucy called. He nodded to himself; she wasn't using his name in case they were listening.

He grinned, lips curving into a proud smirk. "The hell did you do now?" he mocked. "Big scary dragons lock you up? 'Cause - ouch!" He grimaced as some rubble bounced off of his head. He rubbed the spot and gave her a long look.

How had she aimed so well?

And in the middle of the night, too!

Ignoring him, she demanded, leaning out the window, "Can you get me out of here, please? I'm thinking they may come and check in soon. I don't know what they're planning other than the one will be doing most of the physical work now."

"Yeah, yeah. Stupid lady," Natsu said under his breath, looking around to see what he could use. "Always doing something stupid...goes into a dungeon where dragons who want to kill her hang out. Invites us up for food. Let's us do whatever the hell we want."

His gaze found nothing useful. He turned his attention back up to her and shook his head. "Nothing useful around." He studied her as she gave a groan of despair. "...how much do you trust me, Lucy?"

Lucy contemplated this. "That depends on what you're going to ask," she called back.

"You willing to jump?"

She stared down at him and then said in an incredulous tone, "You want me to jump?"

"I'll catch you," he offered. "Unless you want to be kept up there, that works, too."

She scowled at him and then hesitantly demanded, "You promise you'll catch me if I jump? You won't let me hit the ground?"

Sensing her fear in her voice, he sobered and said seriously, "C'mon. I saved your ass from Gajeel. Like I'd let you fall."

Lucy seemed to accept this and took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm coming down." Natsu prepared himself as the blonde carefully ducked out. She seated herself on the window's ledge, and even from where he was several stories down, Natsu could make out blood dripping from her legs.

Mostly because a drop touched his cheek and he instinctively licked it away.

She looked down with a touch of fear in her, and he patiently waited for her to make the jump.

"I'll be fine," he barely heard her mumble to herself. "Like hell I'm dying from a suicidal looking jump...he promised to catch me, I'll be fine…"

Natsu forced himself to bite his tongue and be patient. She could very easily snap her neck if he stepped out of the way at the last second - not that he would. But he knew she found it frightening.

So he let her take her time.

Suddenly, he heard a crash. His head snapped up and Lucy's turned quickly. Alarm flashed across her features. "Damn it!" she shrieked, and then turned a pleading look on him. He gave her a fierce look and she didn't hesitate to throw herself out of the window. Someone crashed into the ledge a moment later, glaring down as she fell.

She slammed into his outstretched arms with a yelp, her breath coming in harsh gasps as she fought to catch it. Natsu released a breath of relief when he realized she hadn't impaled herself on his horn.

Rogue glared down at them in frustration, and Natsu shot him a dark look that promised violence. Without waiting a moment more, Natsu turned and darted back into the trees, ignoring Lucy's protest.

He had to get away.

Something was wrong, too wrong for him even.

He just didn't know how to explain it.

So when Lucy demanded an answer as to where they were going, Natsu gave her a simple answer.

"Away," he told her with a growl. "Something's wrong."

She chose not to question it and fell silent.

#fairy tail #fanfiction #au #in tenebris #riverofmemoriesft #nalu #natsu x lucy #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #gajeel redfox #levy mcgarden #wendy marvell #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney

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mark-mac95 · 7 years

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a girl, a shoe and a missed flight

It all started with a girl, a shoe and a missed flight.

Don’t all good things in life start like that?

Hi, my names Mark, I’m a 22-year-old student, a trail runner and an adventurer at heart.

I’ve been running semi-professionally for 3 years now, winning a couple series, including Roag in KZN.

Recently, it all changed. Well, not all, a massive amount changed. Ok. Maybe not MASSIVE, quite a bit changed.

Quite a bit began with a girl, more specifically Chiara.

I had spent the whole morning selling the locally-produced race supplement bars to runners and my lunchtime break from the racefood stand at the cape town marathon expo was drawing nearer.

As I walked to lunch I ran through my day’s plans leading up to me catching a flight to Durban, to run a race the following morning; Briskly stroll the 1.6km walk to my Air BnB, pick up my bags, catch an uber to the airport and wheels up at 17:00. The next morning was straight to the race at 5 am and then into church for a message from guest speaker Angus Buchan. Time was of the essence in this plan. The plan that didn’t that I didn’t take into account, Chiara.

Chiara was queuing behind me, I don’t know how it happened but we just got chatting. I soon learnt she would be on the same flight as me back to Durban. How cool is that?! We had a partnership and soon we had a new plan. It would mean leaving an hour later than I planned but that wasn’t a problem.

Next came the shoe, more specifically the Hoka One One, pronounced Hoka O-nay O-nay.

After I finished my shift at the non-stop racefood stand I had some extra time to spare before Chiara and I jetted off to the airport.

When browsing around my eye was quickly stolen by the Hoka One One stall. What are those? They looked like nothing I had seen before, they looked awesome! The Hoka One One shoes have a huge mid-soul. Like, very huge. Curiosity pulled me into their stall and as I was handed the mystical shoe, my mind was blown. What? No way? It’s this light! The shoe, bigger than I had ever seen before, was one of the lightest I had ever felt. I had to find out more. As I talked, lost in a world of new shoes and magic, my phone came to life with the magnificent sound of a cockerel, reminding me, I have a flight to catch.

With a sudden panic in my mind, I exchanged details and ran for the door, searching frantically for my new-found friend.

You can guess what comes next, a missed flight.

The race was on, a new type of race for me, but nevertheless, how different can they be?

We rushed through the Cape Town waterfront like cartoons running from a villain, leaving a cloud of smoke, confusion and chaos in our wake.

Chiara ordered the uber as we ran through town, I dashed into my air b’n’b and grabbed my bags and charged into the Uber that had pulled up.

Time was running out!

As luck would have it, Herbert, our driver, had no concept of time. We slowly meandered Cape Town’s streets on our way to Chiara’s hotel and it was her turn to do the frantic bag-catch and go. A new driver was waiting for us there. Hopefully, he would have a better sense of urgency.

We reached the airport and tore through the monotonous procedures and screeched up to our gate, to hear our names being called. We made it.

As we sat on the plane massive sigh of relief exited our lungs, our adventure was over. Or so we thought.

Half an hour into our flight the plane shivered, then it shook, then it trembled.

We were entering winds of 130km/h. Little did we know, 15000 feet below us the same storm was causing havoc, tearing off roofs, downing power lines and ripping up trees. It made landing almost impossible, but thanks to the skills of our pilot we made contact with the earth once again. Applause shattered the tense cabin as we realized we were still alive.

But my journey still wasn’t done. I had a race the next morning. Chiara and I went our separate ways. I met with a good friend who gave me a place to crash and wait out the storm. 2 hours sleep was all I got that night, the night before a major competition. 3 am my magnificent cockerel, who I think I might name Clive, lit up my phone, again. Reminding me to wake up and drive to the race 2 hours away.

I reached the start line, and adrenaline entered my veins, reminding me just how tired I was.

The race started hard and fast and after about a kilometre, three of us broke away from the pack. The fast-flowing track saw its next victim, leaving only two of us in the fight. With 2 kilometres to go, I broke away and pushed up the final hill.

I had forgotten about prize given.

The service was starting at 9, I didn’t have a lot of time to get from the race to the service so I did the logical thing I changed into my glad rags before prizegiving… Error!

I was drenched by the Champaign showers, which left me stiff and stinking of alcohol.

I walked into Church 20 minutes later dazed with what had just happened.

So, you see, quite a bit did change. My perception of what a shoe can be, a new friend and a new-found respect for pilots.

It all started, with a girl, a shoe and an (almost) missed flight.

That’s just it though; It’s only the start.

What’s next?

I don’t know - but I do know that it’s gonna be another epic adventure.

Stay tuned.

#adventure #running #sport #travel #trailrun #outdoorsports #submission

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