Tumgik
#;i tried finding my happiness the right way. but i got desperate. (interactions - henry)
quidfree · 1 year
Note
I'm converting everyone in my life to tsh fans and without fail everyone always tells me that how funny it is that richard tells on himself so badly by writing francis by far the most like an actual person, in contrast especially to how. not like a person camilla is written.
I guess I was just wondering what you find most endearing about the richard-francis dynamic/what aspect you like to write the most, because for me it's got to be the way richard's own narration betrays how close they are just in the details he manages to capture
spreading the good word… if only more of my friends were literate so i could do the same
but like yeah you & i share the same instinct when it comes to those two anon you’re sooo real. bc it really drives me crazy like… richard’s Whole Thing is that he is soo fucked up and he wants to desperately to be part of something Beautiful and Real and Not what he has come from, and so he lies to us and to himself and edits his memories and his interactions and puts a group of pretentious rich kids on a pedestal bc they have the aesthetic of something he wants. and there is some truth to it and to him and to the relationships they build, but as the story progresses it becomes harder and harder for him to hold on to the grand visions he had of them and his life with them bc in fact all of them are just kind of bad people in pretty banal ways. and so by the end he is disillusioned and alone and washes back up to californiaaa baby and all of his once friends are fallen idols and he never really knew them at all.
EXCEPT that’s not true! both bc there were some moments of Realness, but mostly because throughout the whole act two, the one person who is With us-as-richard as everything falls apart is francis! he’s there! he is annoying and everpresent and inspiring richard to have nightmare visions of them as old men still bitching at each other, but he’s There as an actual person! henry’s an absentee god and charles is a study in cruel self-destruction and camilla is a mystery of absence, but francis is an actual right there flesh and blood person! they have serious conversations abt the people they’re in love with! they drive each other up a wall! richard takes francis to get diagnosed w panic disorders! he absolutely Knows francis, and for all that he is constantly complaining abt him, they’re also just. friends. that doesn’t mean theyre Nice About It, but it’s like.. richard you did make an actual friend. somehow in the midst of this whole mess you two stumbled into friendship. it’s just crazy to me bc they’re both so judgmental and shallow in some ways but they know each other at their very worst and that doesn’t stop them being friends. and that’s not enough to keep them #besties after the end of the year (fair enough with two dead friends and three murder/suicides within the space of a year), but YEARS later when francis tries to kill himself he sends richard a goodbye letter! and richard drops everything to rush to him in a panic and when they see each other in the hospital they’re so happy abt it! bc they somehow fucked up and managed to care abt each other despite knowing what assholes they are!
it’s just too good / awful. also the whole ending is so perfect in that regard. squad reunion around the bestie’s suicide bed before his sham homophobia marriage! richard Immediately proposes to camilla bc he’s crazy!! she somehow does not tell him straight up that he’s insane bc they have almost no interaction throughout the whole book and also timing! richard literally tells her they should get married bc they both love(d) henry! etc
anyways i went off topic bc the above isn’t even a proper answer to your question. what i find most endearing is like, francis putting blankets over richard while he sleeps and richard remembering sooooo many of francis’ quips verbatim years later. and what i like writing the most is like… hm. yeah maybe richard self-reporting, and Also i really enjoy writing francis’ feelings from richard pov. maybe a hot take but i do not think theyre at all In Love in the book, so getting to decide what that would look like is really fun. but maybe that’s for another ask…
89 notes · View notes
damagecompiilation · 3 years
Text
tag dump - tv muses pt2
#;out of worlds#;do you know what it takes to be able to look like this... to be able to look normal? it takes power. (interactions - jennifer)#;look like the innocent flower but be the serpent underneath it. (character study - jennifer)#;you have to show them you can get back up. leaders don't run. (interactions - scott)#;life can't ever be all bad or all good. eventually things have to come back to the middle. (character study - scott)#;i’m 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones. sarcasm is my only defense! (interactions - stiles)#;some of us have to get our hands a little bloody sometimes. some of us are human! (character study - stiles)#;i'm just like you - one of the experiments (interactions - zach)#;doesn't it make you wonder what the success is going to look like? (character study - zach)#;i tried finding my happiness the right way. but i got desperate. (interactions - henry)#;in this realm stories are written in blood and tears. (character study - henry)#;there's one final twist... i am not the monster you need to worry about. (interactions - hyde)#;everyone sees their worst self differently. some as a mirror image others as a literal monster. (character study - hyde)#;when there's something i want... i'm good at tracking it down. (interactions - ruby)#;i sort of found someone in myself that was more than i expected. (character study - ruby)#;i'm not afraid to kill. i'm just... afraid. (interactions - lizzie)#;sometimes we have to kill them. but sometimes we don't (character study - lizzie)#;they weren't human. they were monsters. (interactions - kit)#;there is no god. not a god who would create the things i saw. (character study - kit)
0 notes
fandom-monium · 3 years
Note
i finished for the holidays and i just *chefs kiss* beautiful talented amazing sajkgdkj no words i love that romance wasnt even the main point 🥺💘 anyway i love how you write reader and i wondered between her and spencer who gets jealous???
Tumblr media
Unrivaled
Summary: In which you seem pretty close with the new intern, and Spencer is not happy about it. (ft. one of my fave white bois) “Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?"
WC: 3.6k
Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, Jealous!Spencer bc id like to see that, established relationships (blegh), Garvez if you squint, the lightest implication of smut ever, points to yall who can guess who the intern is before reading the end or the tags 😉
Spencer is not jealous. He’s not.
Why would he be? 
He has no reason to be jealous, Spencer chants to himself as he sits at his desk. Even from across the bullpen he still manages to hear your voice, and while normally it’s music to his ears, even better than Mozart, now it just feels like nails against a chalkboard. Grating his eardrums, making him wince.
Because you’re laughing. Not with Spencer though. Not at his obscure references or lame jokes.
With the new intern.
Why did Emily have to put you in charge of him? She could’ve chosen anyone on the team to have him shadow, but it had to be you! Not that you’re incapable or unqualified; you’re experienced, talented, and the best person he knows. 
… Okay, he can see why she picked you.
Why do they even have interns? Unnecessary, really, when the BAU has you and him and he guesses the other teams too (it’s weird, he’s never actually interacted with them but whatever). Maybe it’s time to start making budget cuts. He’ll discuss this with Emily when he gets the chance. He’s got some influence, working at the BAU as long as he has.
But he’s not jealous. 
Logically, jealousy (like an intern) is unnecessary. The green-eyed monster (like an intern) is ugly and contributes nothing productive, and if Spencer’s being honest, the world (like an intern) would be much better off without it.
At least that’s what he keeps telling himself as he downs his coffee like a shot of whiskey, trying to quell the squirming beast in him. Despite 90% of it being sugar, it still tastes bitter. He sets his mug down with a thud, and it’s loud enough to make Luke, Garcia, and JJ turn their heads, exchanging concerned glances when he slumps back in his chair.
Spencer doesn’t care. The world’s ending; you’re apparently into younger guys, with neat dark hair and forearms that can probably snap someone’s neck, and he can’t do anything about it. What does it matter if his best friends catch him in a sour mood, right?
“Hey, Spence,” JJ's tone is soft as they slink over, Garcia and Luke leaning against the edge of his desk and JJ flanking the other side. “You alright?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Spencer gazes past them, his eyes never leaving you. He deflates; your stance is relaxed, completely open as you nod at whatever Intern is saying, his hands gesturing spastically. It must be interesting, the way you listen with rapt attention and respond just as enthusiastic.
Spencer scoffs. Not like that’s anything special. You do the same for him. And the rest of the team.
...What the hell are you guys talking about? 
“Well, you look like you’re about to throw your mug across the room. Or at an intern.”
Spencer blinks, finally breaking away from you long enough to eye the ceramic octopus. “That’s a good idea actually.”
“Don’t,” Garcia and JJ both shoot him a warning and he huffs, resting his chin in his hand. Garcia looks horrified, betrayed even while JJ has that expression on, the one she gives when she scolds Henry and Michael.
Whatever. It’s not like he’d ever sacrifice Mildred. Garcia entrusted her to him, after all. 
Unless...?
No, he couldn’t… Maybe.
“You know, Reid, if you’re jealous—”
Spencer snaps his head to Garcia, eyes wide and darting to you like you have super-hearing, “Jealous? Who’s jealous? Not me.” He cringes, his voice octaves higher and cracking like a prepubescent boy.
Garcia snorts, “Okay, sure. But if you are jealous, I was going to say you have no reason to be. You wanna know why?” Spencer raises an eyebrow at her and she continues, “Sure the guy’s smart enough to get a full-ride scholarship at GWU, and he’s top of his class at the academy—”
“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”
"And he’s one of the most good looking guys I've ever met—”
"How is that relevant—"
Luke frowns at her. "And have you met me?"
“My point is,” Garcia’s red lipstick curls into the most reassuring smile, “that you have nothing to worry about because (Your Name) loves you. A lot.” 
Spencer perks up. “You really think so?”
“I know so. I see the way they look at you, and if that’s not love I don’t know what is," She shrugs, "And just because they’re talking doesn’t mean they’re into him.”
There's a collective nod of agreement and Spencer sags in relief. Of course they're right. He knows they are. 
If you think about it, technically, he's got the advantage. You've known each other longer, bonded and shared experiences together good and bad, and you’re emotionally and even physically intimate with each other (something he's especially proud of, considering how long it takes you both to warm up to others).
And who knows? This is probably temporary! Whatever this is, the connection you seem to instantly make with Intern (faster than when you two had met, he realizes with a needle to his heart) is short-term at best. It'll peter out eventually, like most friendships do.
It’s sad, but a cruel fact of life.
(Is this selfish, wishful thinking? Nah.)
They’re right, there is no need to worry, Spencer thinks as a weight lifts off his chest, finally able to breathe. You love him and he loves you and eventually, everything will go back to normal. 
There’s nothing to worry about.
The world’s ending.
“It’s really not.”
Yes, it is.
“Doc, come on.”
“Do not ‘Doc’ me,” Spencer grumbles, lifting his head from the comfort of his arms. He grimaces at Luke. “You didn’t see the way they looked at him. The way they talk about him.”
Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since you’ve taken Intern under your wing, and he’s had enough. If Hell is real, this is it. For days, he’s tried to resume some form of normalcy, and he was never one to be bold but desperate times call for desperate measures as he asks you out for lunch or invites you out on dates, even stuff he wouldn’t normally do because they’re more your thing. Something, anything to get you away from Intern. But...
At work: “Hey Spence, I'm teaching Intern (menial task that a 4 year old could do). Would you like to help—”
During break: “I’m taking Intern out for lunch. He’s still new to town, and I thought he could use a tour—”
In bed: “Did you know Intern’s a huge fan of Star Wars—”
Snap, and there went his patience.
Intern this, Intern that. 
Spencer could tolerate this at work. At least he’s saving lives, being productive, getting paid. But under his roof? In his bed? 
That was the last straw.
Spencer's not one to wish ill on another, he's not like that. But if something happened to the guy, say, get injured in the field, perhaps from a "stray" bullet, he'd be intern-ally grateful. Heh. 
"Hey, you good?"
Spencer sighs, swiping a hand over his face and turning back to Luke. "Yeah, why?"
Luke waves a hand at his face, eyebrow raised, "For a second there, you kind of had a scary look on your face."
"Did I? Weird."
"Right," Clearly unconvinced, Luke brushes it off, deciding to get to the root of the matter. "As I was saying, I still think you have nothing to worry about. Although, I do think it's a little weird that (Your Name) is talking about Intern as much as you say they are." He offers Spencer a little smile, his hand falling heavy on his shoulder. It's the most comforting touch he's had in two weeks. "I'm not one to talk, but I suggest you speak to them. I'd also be uncomfortable if my partner were talking up someone else."
Spencer blinks, squints at Luke, before gripping his hand and standing up. "Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?"
"You can stand to mention it more often," Luke shrugs, eyes crinkling with amusement as Spencer lets go and heads for the door. 
"Noted."
Spencer nearly goes feral when he finds you.
Of course you're with him.
He searched the floor like a bloodhound, discovering you've been on your feet almost the entire day, running around the office, up and down the elevators, finishing your work and helping around. You must be exhausted. It's because of this he tracks you to your favorite break room, mostly quiet save for the buzzing drip of the old coffeemaker. He knows you need to be alone sometimes, recharge those social batteries.
So when he bursts into the room like he would hunting an unsub, eyes quickly scanning the immediate space, he expects nothing less but you. What he did not anticipate was to find you, just as soft and pretty as ever under the fluorescent lighting, leaning against the counter and sipping daintily at your favorite mug. 
With Intern standing a little too close to his liking.
“Hey, Spencer,” You chirp as you lower your coffee mug, lips glossy from your drink. Spencer's quick to shake his stupor―he can’t afford to be distracted, but it’s difficult when you’re beaming at him, clearly excited. You nod at the home-wrecker, “Me and Intern here were just talking about demonology and he’s got this interesting theory on werewolves―" Lycanthropy? Are you fucking kidding him right now? 
Just when he thought he couldn't hate the guy any more.
"CanItalktoyou?" It comes out rushed as Spencer gasps between breaths, leaving no room to second guess himself.
"Sure," You blink at his urgent tone.
For a second, you watch him expectantly, and Spencer's gaze darts between you and Intern. "Alone?"
"Oh! Okay. Be gone," You wave Intern off, and when you place a hand on his shoulder, Spencer sees red. Or green in this case.
Intern doesn't resist, but the noise Spencer releases is animalistic because the guy can’t seem to read the room, questioning you as you gently shove him towards the door. "What about the thing―"
"We'll talk about that later."
"But you still need to show me how to―"
"Don't worry, Intern. Just wait for me, I'll show you once the adults are done talking."
"You know at some point you're gonna have to call me by my name." 
"Nah. If we get to call Luke a newbie, we get to call you Intern. Also I do not know how to say your first name."
 "You could just call me St―"
Enough of this. Spencer closes the last stretch of distance, batting your hand away from Intern’s shoulders as he kicks him out himself, slamming the door in his face. Spencer turns on his heel to face you, caging you both. “You―” He pants, chest heaving for air.
“Me?”
“You-him-we―”
You’re unfazed, simply nodding at him and his odd behavior. If anything, you’re enjoying this as your lips twitch in a poor attempt to withhold your amusement, trying to cover it with a slurp of your cup. Then again, it’s not everyday you get to see Spencer, face flushed from exertion, speechless as he gasps for breath.
(At least not at work… In the break room specifically.)
It takes a minute as Spencer swallows a few times, but his heart’s erratic and it’s not just from running through the entire building. When he’s got enough air, he blurts out, “Did I do something?”
Your brow shoots up. “What?”
“Did I forget something important? Upset you in some way?”
“No? I don’t think so?” You frown at him, your answers more like questions. 
It only spurs him on, and though his tone is frantic and his eyes just as wild as his hair, you’re more intrigued than frightened. Definitely confused.
“Okay, but you know I love you, right?”
“Yes and I love you too but Spence, what’s this about?" Setting down your mug, you look at him like he's grown another head.
Spencer sighs, "I just… you…" He frowns, glancing between you, the floor, and the empty space between you. 
Spencer Reid is a man of words. Many, many words, according to all his friends and his coworkers. Mainly knowledge―he's never been great with feelings―but as you gaze at him, patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts, he wants to melt into the floor. There's not a hint of annoyance on your features, your eyes warm and inviting. 
He's so in love with you.
Then like scripture the words come, natural without much stuttering or hesitancy. He recounts the last two weeks. The internship so far, the times you've left Spencer behind for him, the times you just talked about him, like the guy (practically a stranger) is your new best friend. Usually, pretty people make him tongue-tied and you do―god, you do―but at the same time only you make it so easy. Talking, expressing without fear of―
"Pfft―"
―Judgement. Pausing mid-sentence, Spencer gawks as your nose twitches and your blink rate increases. You purse your lips, a hand slapped over your mouth as it threatens to break out into a grin.
"Are you-are you laughing right now?" When he just poured his feelings out to you? 
That does it. You keel over, peels of laughter coming like a tsunami, crashing into him and Spencer loves your laugh but not when it's at him. 
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing," you wheeze, gripping your stomach. Spencer pouts. There's even tears in your eyes. "But you're telling me this is all because you're jealous?"
He stutters, "Well-I-no-It’s just…" He wants to say ‘you're mine’, but as your eyes crinkle he knows there’s no need.
"That's kinda hot."
"Wha-really?" Wide-eyed, Spencer squeaks as you step closer to him, backing him into the door. His hands come up to his chest in a kitten-like manner yet at the same time protective―you'd never hurt him and you both know that―but you admit your initial reaction was poor when he laid his feelings bare. 
“Ahhhh Babe, you know there’s no one else for me but you.” Spencer blushes and you chuckle, taking his hands in yours. He let's you. “Also, as adorable as Intern is, one, I think I’d be able to tell if he was hitting on me, and two, he’s not really my type.”
Spencer swallows, “And what exactly is your type?”
“Hmm, let’s see,” Looking him up and down, you step closer, enough that your breath puffs against his chin. You smell like cheap coffee. “Tall, handsome doctors with messy, brown hair―” You lightly tug at one of his stray curls and he bites back a smile. 
“―and a cute nose―” Your hand moves to cup his cheek, bringing him down to peck the tip of his nose. It scrunches as Spencer breaks out into giggles. 
“―Who can recite classic literature. Who can bake like he belongs on The Great British Baking Show but can’t cook for shi―”
“Okay! Thank you, I get it,” Spencer says, almost completely relaxed now.
“Good,” You nod with finality. “And for your information, I wasn’t trying to make you jealous."
He raises an eyebrow. "So you just abandoned me and talked about another guy for the hell of it?"
Spencer's tone is casual, joking even but you know better. There's underlying bitterness and hurt and your heart squeezes because you did that. "No, of course not. There is a reason behind all that.“
“What could possibly excuse you going above and beyond your job as a mentor―”
“I was trying to set you guys up.”
Spencer deadpans. “Set me up? With him?” Oh god, he knows you’re weird, but he’s never considered you to be outright insane (is it weird he still loves you?).
As if reading his thoughts, you roll your eyes, “Spencer, how many friends do you have outside the team?”
“Not a lot.” No hesitation, but he accepted the fact a long time ago. 
“Yeah and that’s okay. But if you’d talk to Intern, you’ll find you two have a lot in common. I know he’s younger than us, but he’s a good kid, real smart,” You give him a meaningful look and shrug, “Not like IQ 187 smart but he could definitely hold a conversation with you.”
Spencer murmurs, pulling you in so you're chest to chest, “This entire time, you were really trying to make us friends?”
You nod, your expression a mix of giddiness and hope that makes whatever feelings he felt before, the confusion and―yes, fine―the jealousy, dissolve like sugar in water. Spencer sinks into you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling your soap. Of course you had good intentions. Of course you wanted to do something nice for him.
Fuck, he loves you.
“So… we good?”
Spencer huffs, “I hope you realize how much I suffered the past few weeks.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“Then yes, we’re good,” He mumbles into your shoulder, “I appreciate what you were trying to do.”
“And?”
His brow furrows and he pulls back, meeting your eyes. “And what?”
“Will you try to be friends?” You look at him expectantly.
Spencer opens his mouth to answer, a definitive no on his tongue, but then you’re giving him puppy-dog eyes and before he realizes it, “Okay.”
Wait, no. That is not what he meant to say.
“Yeah!” You throw your arms around him, and Spencer can’t stop you, grunting as you basically swing him around like a rag doll. But he finds he doesn’t care when you set him back down because you’re happy, happy for him, grinning ear to ear as you babble, “I can already tell you two are gonna be the best of friends! You guys have so much to talk about, all that nerdy stuff. Maybe even debate! And we could play chess and―”
There’s a knock and you both turn, a voice muffled by the door, “Hey, guys? I don’t want to interrupt in case you’re boning, but you didn’t exactly tell me where to wait for you? God, I hope you guys aren’t boning. Please tell me you’re not boning right now.”
You groan, “No Intern, we’re not boning! Right-uh-go ahead and meet me back at the office, I’ll be right with you.” You turn back to Spencer, sending him an apologetic look. “I will see you later, okay? And since you’ve been such a patient and understanding partner,” You plant him one last kiss before patting his cheek, and his eyes widen as your voice lowers in the way you know drives him crazy, your eyes glinting with mischief, “I’ll make it up to once we get home. Bye, love you!”
Before Spencer can fully register your words, you're out the door, cackling as you leave him to compose himself, his face beet red from running the possibilities. By the time he emerges from the break room, you’re long gone.
“Hi, Dr. Reid?”
Spencer almost snarls, cursing under his breath. Just when he thought the day was getting better. He turns back. 
Intern stands tall, relaxed and shoulders back, black tie loose and cheap white-collar button up slightly wrinkled. No doubt from working hard and following your instructions throughout the day. Spencer respects the work ethic at least. Meanwhile, the younger man eyes him, and he’s certain it’s not from intimidation but with curiosity.
Spencer doesn’t linger on that. He’s used to it, not being intimidating to others.
He continues, “It’s nice to finally talk to you, one on one I mean. I’m a fan of your work. Seven degrees, huh?”
“Yeah,” Spencer says curtly. Recalling the earlier conversation with you, he stamps down his irritation and tries to extend an olive branch. “How did you know?”
“It’s the internet, sir,” Intern raises an eyebrow, offering an innocent smile. 
“Right,” Spencer returns it with an awkward one of his own, “Hey, sorry for... literally kicking you out before. That was completely unprofessional.”
Intern waves him off, “No, it’s cool. I totally get it. I’m flattered, by the way.”
Spencer frowns. “Flattered?”
“Well, it’s not everyday you find out your superior’s jealous of you.”
Spencer blinks, and it takes all his experience as a profiler to mask his embarrassment. “You heard that.”
“The FBI’s got thin walls,” Intern shrugs and steps towards him. “Although I have to say, Agent (Your Last Name) is wrong about one thing.” Stopping short in front of him, for the first time Spencer is close enough to note the moles dotting his face. “They can’t tell that I’m flirting with them.” 
He starts down the hall after you, and Spencer’s eyes trail after him as his brow furrows, until realization slams into him and his jaw drops. “Wait, you...”
“Oh and since (Your Last Name) wants us to be friends, I think we could be on a first-name basis,” He pauses to look back at Spencer, watching with a crooked smile as the older man sputters. 
“So, you can call me Stiles, sir.”
Tumblr media
Then once again, Spencer is left behind, frozen in the hallway as he processes what just happened.
And the next time he finds you and Special Agent Stilinski in the same room, whether it’s crowded or not, Spencer does not hesitate to cling to your side, putting as much distance between the intern and you as he can. Spencer’s grateful you don’t question it.
There may not be anyone else for you, but that doesn’t mean no one will try.
AN: ahhhhh thanks anon!! There was a similar request then i saw this tiktok (and listened to this tiktok the entire time) and i combined them. Id also like to emphasize that my version of reader is neutral across the board, race, gender, etc.
Yes, i have a type. No, i will not be taking criticism. 
Been hella overwhelmed with classes and work so here’s my way of destressing. Also suggest checking those tiktoks if you wanna understand me :))) also you mean to tell me i have to write the threesome myself?? Bs tbh 😔
watched 15x4 and i was so sad when Spencer addressed Luke as his coworker like no bitch hes your new bro stfu
and i have no doubt that stiles and spencer would be one of the best crossover duos given the chance 
587 notes · View notes
Text
The Only Woman
Pairing: (Henry Cavill!)Sherlock Holmes x Reader
Requested: Yep - “Hello Ma’amMay I request a Sherlock Holemes x Redaer?That when they were younger she was BSF with Sherlock and Mycroft. And all of the sudden they disappeared and never wrote to her a letter or nothing. And she got closer to Enola and when Edoria disappeared she reunites with Sherlock and Mycroft and Reader is Mad and Sad that he left without saying nothing. She always was in love with him and at the end she finds out he also was in love with her! And lots of fluffThank You so MuchAnonymous (she/her/hers)”
Summary: Basically just the request
Warnings: Probably some swearing, some 20th century misogyny, pining, fluff, angst, denial, all that fun stuff, probably ooc Sherlock but we vibe with it because he’s soft af
A/N: My first full length Sherlock fic! I should mention that my requests aren’t actually open right now, especially not for full fics but I was inspired by this request and so decided to make it into a full one! I hope you guys enjoy, please remember to reblog, comment or send an ask letting me know what you think and if you want to see me write more for Sherlock (and Henry and his other characters for that matter) in the future!
Tumblr media
Y/N had been essentially another resident of the Holmes household her whole life, having been introduced to the family through the two boys - Sherlock and Mycroft, whom she had run into while out playing in the woods. Her family lived in the house nearest to the Holmes residence, technically making them neighbours.
Sherlock and Mycroft didn’t exactly do ‘friends’, that much had been clear even to Y/N’s young mind after meeting them. She was a year and a half younger than Sherlock and yet she still knew more about interacting with other people than he did. Not that either of the Holmes boys had ever seemed interested in other people, they had their brains to keep them occupied, and when they failed to find entertainment in learning, they had each other.
Despite this, they took a shine to Y/N when they found her playing make-believe on her own in the woods and insisted that she come over to have dinner with them and their family.
Mr and Mrs Holmes had gone out of their way, following that initial visit, to make Y/N feel as welcome as possible at Ferndell Hall. At first this was simply because they were astounded that their sons had actually made a friend and seemed interested in maintaining this friendship, but then it was partially as a result of the somewhat turbulent relationship that it became clear Y/N had with her family.
Eudoria in particular had ensured that Y/N knew she could always come and visit, that there was a spare bedroom that could be set up should she require it, which Y/N only began to take advantage of as she grew up and the rows with her parents over her future became more frequent.
However, it was always Sherlock that she was closest to. While she considered Mycroft a friend, and he had grudgingly returned the sentiment, they had never clicked in the same way that Y/N had with Sherlock. Occasionally Mycroft would storm off midway through a game, frustrated by Sherlock’s intelligence which so trumped his and Y/N’s, or he would simply decide that he was ‘above’ having friends.
Sherlock never much minded Y/N hanging around though. Truthfully, now that she was grown, Y/N looked back at their years of friendship and couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps his reason for tolerating her company was because she gave him the awed reactions that he secretly desired from his intelligence.
She had fond memories of her childhood with the Holmes. At Ferndell she never felt the need to pretend to be a young lady ready to be married that her parents so desperately wanted her to be, even as a child. Mr Holmes encouraged her to continue her studies beyond what her Governess would teach her, and Eudoria actively tried to teach her all that she could, going so far as to teach her alongside her sons on occasion - Mycroft wasn’t exactly fond of that, though Sherlock appeared to enjoy her company.
And then there was Enola, a surprisingly timid child considering the family that she had been born into - though Eudoria was convinced that her shyness was a trait that she would soon grow out of. Enola adored Y/N.
While Sherlock and Mycroft paid their little sister no mind, too caught up in their own lives to acknowledge their baby sister’s, Y/N was fond of Enola. Having grown up in a male-dominated household with only brothers for company, she had always wanted a younger sister.
It was Mr Holmes’ death that changed everything.
Not long after his death, Y/N was saying goodbye to her two closest friends as they left for Boarding School. Y/N had promised to write to them and had been encouraged to do so by Sherlock, who seemed thrilled by the prospect of their continued communication and Mycroft had also seemed somewhat in favour of the idea.
Y/N wrote to the brothers for a year after they left. Her letters to Sherlock in particular were long and full of detail about both her life, her parents continued attempts to interest her in marriage and her attempts to further her education, as well as the lives of Eudoria and Enola.
After a year of these letters, however, Y/N had yet to receive word from either brother and thus, with a heavy heart, she had halted her letter writing and turned her mind away from the Holmes brothers. 
Eudoria had ensured that Y/N still knew that she was welcome whenever she wanted to come over, however, and so Y/N’s life at Ferndell continued even with the absence of the boys she had considered to be her closest friends.
Y/N had been the first to be informed that Eudoria had disappeared, Enola having ran over to her house the day of her sixteenth birthday in a state of distress, imploring the older woman to help her. They had agreed that it was best for Sherlock and Mycroft to be contacted at once, with Sherlock’s career, Enola had been certain that her brother would make himself indispensable.
Y/N had been less keen on writing to the Holmes brothers, dreading having to see her old friends again, still far more hurt than she could care to admit about their silence following their departure. Every time in the past week that Enola had brought up the topic of her brothers, Y/N had been quick to change the subject.
A decision that she was coming to regret now that she approached Ferndell to find an automobile parked outside of it. Y/N bit back a groan, aware that its presence more than likely meant that Sherlock and Mycroft would be waiting inside.
Y/N didn’t knock before she entered, she never had as she had basically been a part of the family over the past few years.
She could hear the low mumble of voices coming from the drawing room, which were becoming steadily louder and Y/N’s expression dropped into a deep frown as she stepped towards the room, recognising Enola’s voice, breaking with emotion, even through the closed doors.
Before she could place her hand on the knob, however, the door was flung open and Enola rushed out, crashing into Y/N, who almost dropped the bags she was holding.
“Enola?” Y/N breathed, her hands gripping onto the young girl’s shoulders, steadying her. 
“Y/N!” Enola embraced her tightly, though not before Y/N caught sight of her face, flushed red and eyes shining with tears, her expression the picture of distress.
“What’s happened? What’s wrong? Why are you… in your undergarments?” Y/N asked in a rush as Enola pulled away. The teenager wiped fiercely at her face, clenching her jaw.
“My brothers are here…” Enola seemed to struggle with herself for a moment before shaking her head. “I wish to be alone.”
With that, Enola pushed past her and shortly after Y/N heard footsteps on the stairs. Y/N looked back to the door to the drawing room and caught a glimpse of a man holding a book, chestnut curls falling over his forehead, his brown eyes just visible, his brow furrowed as though he were frowning.
Sherlock was recognisable immediately. His eyes moved over to the door, away from the chair Y/N knew to be facing him in the room which she assumed seated Mycroft, and his book lowered, his head raising and his lips parting in slight surprise - an expression that Y/N had never seen on him in the entire duration of their friendship.
Before he could say anything, however, Y/N turned on her heel and walked towards the kitchen.
“Good morning, Miss Y/L/N,” Mrs Lane said from where she was kneading bread dough on the kitchen counter.
“Morning, Mrs Lane - I see that Enola’s brothers have arrived.”
“Yes, they got here yesterday,” Mrs Lane confirmed as Y/N placed down the bags of food she had bought and began to unpack them into the pantry. Knowing how overworked Mrs Lane had been, staffing the house alone, particularly since Eudoria’s absence, Y/N had taken to doing the food shopping for them.
“Enola seemed very upset,” Y/N said, unable to conceal her worry.
“Yes - Mr Mycroft has been less than impressed by both the state of the house and Enola herself.”
“Why?” Y/N demanded, her frown deepening, the beginnings of anger festering in her stomach.
“He doesn’t think Mrs Holmes did a good job of raising her,” Mrs Lane looked equally disgusted by the words even as she spoke them. “He wishes to send her to a finishing school to turn her into a proper lady.”
“But can’t he see that she’s happy here?”
“I don’t think Mr Holmes much cares,” Mrs Lane admitted.
“What does Sherlock think of all of it?”
“He has been rather silent on the matter, Miss Y/L/N,” Mrs Lane said, shaking her head and sighing. “I fear Enola has been rather disappointed by the brother she so idolised.”
“She said she wished to be alone for a while,” Y/N said, leaning on the counter and rubbing her forehead, wanting to ease out the deep concern she was feeling for the girl she had come to think of as a sister. “I’ll try and talk to her in a little bit,” she decided and Mrs Lane nodded her approval.
Y/N ventured out into the garden half an hour later, figuring that that was ample time for Enola to think it over for herself. Y/N knew exactly where the Holmes daughter would be, she knew that Enola had a favourite tree in the garden where she would go, should she want to get away from the house for a little bit.
What she wasn’t expecting was to find Sherlock walking back from the direction of the very tree Y/N knew Enola to be hiding in. He looked deep in thought, but there was no denying the very slight smile that lifted the corners of his lips.
Y/N allowed her head to fall, her eyes on the ground, hoping against hope that there was even the smallest chance that Sherlock may not notice her.
“Y/N - it was you I saw,” there was an edge of something like delight in his voice as he spoke and Y/N wanted to look up, to see his expression, to confirm that he was smiling as he acknowledged her.
Instead, she chose to ignore him and attempted to continue walking.
“Y/N!” Sherlock called, and reached out a hand to gently take hold of her arm, pulling her ever-so carefully back to stand in front of her.
“Mr Holmes,” Y/N returned his greeting, lifting her head to watch his features fall into a slight frown.
“I wasn’t aware that you would be here,” Sherlock said, his eyes searching hers.
“I was always welcome at Ferndell,” Y/N responded stiffly. “Now I must go and speak with Enola,” she said, turning ready to leave him.
“Y-” Sherlock cut himself off from saying her name. “Miss Y/L/N,” he corrected, and Y/N risked a glance at her old friend over her shoulder, seeing his brow crinkled in confusion, an expression that she had rarely seen during their childhood.
“Yes, Mr Holmes?”
“How have you been?” Sherlock was floundering, that much was obvious. All the articles about him that Y/N and Enola had read, all her memories of him from her younger years had always portrayed him as being calm, collected, ready with his words. Seeing him now, in this state of uncertainty, caused by seeing her for the first time after so many years, it brought her a sense of satisfaction.
“Fine thank you, now if you’ll excuse me,” she didn’t give Sherlock a chance to respond, walking away from him as quickly as possible, though she could feel his eyes burning into her back as she left him behind.
Enola was sitting on the grass at the base of the tree, her back pressed up against it, her sketchbook balanced on her lap but her eyes were glazed over and looking at the scenery rather than at the pages.
“Can I join you?”
The teenager started, her eyes widening in slight shock but then she relaxed as her eyes landed on Y/N, who she offered a small, tired smile and nodded her head. Once Y/N had seated herself on the ground, Enola scooted over to rest her head on her shoulder and let out a long sigh.
“I’m glad to see you’ve put on clothes now,” Y/N finally broke the silence and the younger girl laughed a little.
“Apparently my proportions are incorrect,” Enola informed her.
“Yes, I often find myself thinking that,” Y/N teased and Enola giggled again, playfully elbowing Y/N in the side. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t want to go to Miss Harrison’s Finishing School for Young Girls.”
“Finishing school is the worst,” Y/N agreed. 
“I remember when you went,” Enola murmured. “Mother said you hated it.”
“I did,” Y/N confirmed. “I begged my parents every holiday to not send me back, I think I even asked your mother at one point to adopt me so that I wouldn’t have to go,” Y/N chuckled at the memory, shaking her head. “It was a source of great amusement for my brothers.”
“Mine too,” Enola said darkly. “Mycroft is an utter pig, you know.” 
Y/N laughed again at the choice of words.
“Family reunion didn’t go quite as planned, I take it?”
“I didn’t have a hat or gloves,” Enola sighed. 
“So off to finishing school?”
“The only logical course of action,” Enola agreed, her tone biting. “You were friends with them, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” Y/N said, wary of where this conversation was going. “But I stand no chance of changing their minds. Mycroft was always stubborn, even when we were children, and I haven’t seen them since they went to boarding school.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry, I wish I could help,” Y/N said, her heart aching for the young woman.
“It’s okay,” Enola murmured. “I was just wondering, though… Sherlock was talking about me as a child - you must have known me at the same time as him, yes?” Y/N nodded her confirmation. “I think I have more memories of you than him or Mycroft.”
“I spent a lot of time with you,” Y/N shrugged.
“He said that I used to drag a pinecone around with me.”
Y/N couldn’t help herself from laughing as the memory struck her.
“Oh yes - a little pinecone, wrapped in wool that you dragged around on a string because of Queen Victoria’s spaniel. Called… Dash? I think?”
“That’s what Sherlock said, yes,” Enola straightened up, a slight grin on her face. “So it’s true?”
“Yes, you were rather obsessed with the thing,” Y/N confirmed, still chuckling a little. Silence fell between them, comfortable and thoughtful.
“Y/N?”
“Yes?”
“What were my brothers like growing up?”
Y/N thought hard before answering, her mind going back to her childhood.
“They were fun,” Y/N said at last. “They both knew that they were smarter than me, and I think that that was at least part of the reason they kept me around. Sherlock would teach me things - things that my Governess wouldn’t have thought I ought to know…” Y/N trailed off. “They were kind,” she admitted at last. “Albeit a little aloof at times, a little arrogant, they were always kind to me. I think Sherlock could tell immediately that I was unhappy with my family, and that was why they brought me to Ferndell,” Y/N confided.
“Mycroft was kind to you?” Enola asked, staring at her wide-eyed. 
“He didn’t know any better until he went out into the world,” Y/N replied, smiling a little.
“I won’t let him send me to Miss Harrison’s Finishing School For Girls,” Enola stated defiantly.
“No,” Y/N agreed. “I don’t think that you should.”
///
Y/N was reading outside when the maid came to see her.
“Miss Y/L/N, there’s a Mr Holmes here to see you,” Freya spoke, her eyebrows raised just a tad in a teasing way, indicating that she thought it was a romantic house-call. Y/N frowned in return.
“Mr Holmes?” She repeated. “Not Enola?”
“If it’s Enola then she’s certainly changed a lot since I last saw her,” Freya said. “Mr Holmes is in the drawing room.”
Y/N closed her book and stood, following the maid inside, through the house and into the drawing room. She pushed the door open, still confused as to why either of the Holmes brothers would feel the need to make a house call to see her.
Sherlock was standing in the drawing room, his back to her as he stared at the painting hanging above the fireplace. She closed the door as quietly as she could, but the soft sound caught the attention of the detective anyway. Sherlock turned and offered her an unsure, gentle smile.
“Good morning, Mr Holmes,” Y/N said, bowing her head just slightly towards him. She thought she saw Sherlock’s smile falter just a tad before he returned her greeting. “What can I help you with?”
“I’m afraid I bring some bad news,” Sherlock said, walking away from the fireplace. Y/N stepped further into the room and indicated a chair. “Thank you,” he said as he sat down, Y/N seating herself in the armchair across from him. “Enola has run away.”
“Is that really all that surprising?” Y/N sighed, though his words did immediately cause her to worry for the young girl.
“Were you aware of what she was planning?” Sherlock asked.
“No. It just doesn’t surprise me.”
Sherlock looked at her for a long moment, seemingly analyzing her expression and finally he gave a slow nod of his head.
“So I take it that she hasn’t contacted you at all?” He asked.
“I haven’t heard from her since yesterday when I left Ferndell,” Y/N confirmed, attempting to keep her features as neutral as possible.
Sherlock frowned at her, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“Even if she had, you wouldn’t tell me, would you?”
“No,” Y/N admitted, shrugging her shoulders. “But you can’t blame me for that. We both know that Finishing School is not where Enola’s time would be best spent. Besides, from what she told me Miss Harrison seems a foul woman.”
She thought she saw Sherlock’s lips twitch as though he wanted to smile, but then he schooled his expression into one of neutrality again.
“You know, there was a time when you would tell me everything,” he reminded her.
“And there was a time that you found me utterly insufferable for that,” Y/N countered, her words sounding like she was spitting venom at him.
“I never found you insufferable,” Sherlock said, a chuckle in his voice. 
“Is that so?” Y/N mused, quirking her eyebrow at him.
“Perhaps a little slow at times, but I wouldn’t take that personally,” she hated how teasing he sounded, as though nothing had changed since he left. Sherlock clearly picked up on the anger festering in the pit of her stomach and spoke again before she had time to lash out. “But I never found you insufferable.”
Y/N made a noise conveying how unconvinced she was by his words and she stood from the chair.
“If that’s all…”
Sherlock’s eyes flashed with something similar to disappointment before he, too, stood and adjusted his suit jacket slightly.
“Yes… that’s all,” he said. “I thank you for your time.”
Y/N nodded and watched as Sherlock crossed the room to stand in front of the door, reaching out a hand towards the doorknob. Before he could turn it, though, Y/N was hit by a sudden wave of concern.
“Mr Holmes?”
The man paused and looked back at her over his shoulder at her.
“You… if you find her, or here anything… could you let me know? She’s only young… I worry about her.”
Sherlock bowed his head in a sign of consent.
“I will keep you updated, I promise.”
“Thank you… Sherlock.”
Just as Sherlock had promised, he kept her updated on the situation with Enola as best as he could and she received letters from him every other day, even if he had found no new leads.
On the days that he had nothing new to report, his letters were filled with updates about his own life, general musings, his theories about both Enola’s whereabouts and other, unofficial cases that had caught his eye. 
In short, they were the most un-Sherlock-like letters that Y/N could have ever imagined receiving and every time the post came she felt her heart lift in hope that there would be another one for her.
The only letter that Y/N had replied to, however, was one dated about a week and a half after Enola’s disappearance, in which Sherlock told her that he had asked Mycroft to pass over his duties and to make Enola his ward, filing Y/N in on the details about what had happened with Enola and the case of the missing Maquis. Sherlock had also let her know that he had attempted to make contact with his sister via newspaper and that she had indeed come to the meeting spot but had been disguised.
From the tone of that letter, it had been clear to Y/N that Sherlock truly cared for his younger sister, and that he knew that she would be capable of taking care of herself despite the worry that he so clearly felt over her.
After having received a response from Y/N after that letter, Sherlock had implored her to keep replying, but Y/N had not. She was afraid of falling into the same trap that she had when they were kids - of allowing herself to get too close to him, to feel something for him, when it was never going to go anywhere.
Y/N had allowed her heart to be broken by Sherlock Holmes once before, when she was too young to truly understand matters of the heart. She wasn’t going to do it again.
About a week after receiving the letter recounting the tale of Enola and Tewkesbury, however, Y/N got another surprise in the post. A letter from Enola herself, detailing Y/N with much of the same information that had already been given to her by Sherlock, though with more detail and far more reassurance that she truly was safe and secure and comfortable in her newfound lodgings in London.
In the final paragraph of the letter, there was a plea from Enola, imploring Y/N to go and visit her in London - she had attached a date for the following week and the address of a cafe that she said she thought Y/N would appreciate.
And so Y/N found herself boarding a train the next week, ready to meet Enola in London, agreeing to stay with her for a couple of days so that they could properly catch up.
Just as she was settling into the carriage, the train about to leave the station, the door slid open again and a familiar face appeared.
“May I join you?” Sherlock asked, a somewhat nervous smile on his face. Y/N returned it and nodded her head.
“Of course,” Sherlock entered into the compartment, closing the door behind him and placing his bag onto the overhead luggage rack and taking the seat opposite her. “I wasn’t aware that you were back here?” 
“Only for a night - Mycroft demanded my help,” Sherlock explained. “I thought about visiting you, but I was unsure of how much it would be appreciated,” he added. Y/N bowed her head a little, finding herself unable to maintain eye contact with him. “You didn’t reply to my letters.”
“Yes I did.”
Y/N risked a glance up and saw Sherlock’s lips quirk a little, holding back a smile.
“I apologise - you replied to only one of my letters.”
“That’s one more than you replied to of mine,” Y/N pointed out, raising her eyebrows challengingly. Sherlock didn’t even attempt to keep his smile at bay, grinning at her in the familiar cheeky way that Y/N remembered from their childhood.
“I wasn’t aware of how good you were at bearing grudges,” he mused, leaning back in his seat.
“Well perhaps if you’d come to visit you would have realised,” Y/N muttered, opening her bag that rested on the chair beside her and pulled out the book she was reading.
Before she could open it, though, Sherlock’s hand pressed down on the cover, preventing her from doing so.
“I'm sorry, Y/N,” he whispered and when Y/N met his eyes again they were so filled with genuine apology and concern.
“I wasn’t aware that you knew what an apology was,” but she smiled a little, seeing how Sherlock’s eyes brightened 
“Well I’ve been attempting to catch up on them as of late.”
“Enola?”
“I have yet to find her to give her one,” Sherlock confessed, leaning back at last. “You’re going down to see her, aren’t you?”
Y/N knew there was no point in denying it, Sherlock was always capable of telling when people were lying. He had always been particularly quick at picking up on Y/N’s lies as well when they were children.
“Yes - she wrote inviting me down last week,” Sherlock nodded slowly.
“Would you… would you let me know that she’s safe - that her lodgings are comfortable?”
“I’ll let her know you asked,” Y/N said instead, her voice quiet and full of understanding.
“Thank you,” Sherlock swallowed hard.
Silence fell between them. The most comfortable silence that had existed between them since their reunion.
“I did miss you, you know.”
“I’m sorry?”
“When I left home - I did miss you. I know you think I didn’t, and it’s understandable, but I did,” Sherlock confessed.
“Why didn’t you reply?” Y/N asked and she hated the desperation in her voice, the plea to understand why so many years had passed in silence. “Why didn’t you come and visit?”
“I don’t have a good reason for why I did - or didn’t - do any of it. And I’m so sorry,” Sherlock sighed but Y/N frowned at him, noticing how his gaze briefly dropped her own as he spoke, how his fingers fidgeted slightly on his lap.
“I know you’re the detective of the two of us, but I know when you lie, Sherlock Holmes,” Y/N didn’t know what made her do it, but she lent forwards and grabbed one of his hands between her own. “Tell me the truth, Sherlock.”
Sherlock studied her hard for a long minute, his eyes sweeping across her face, taking in every inch of her features and there was an emotion that Y/N couldn’t quite place lingering in his eyes.
“Mycroft used to… make fun of me, when we were children. Because he knew how I… how I felt about you. I’ve never quite… understood why he did, he always liked you, even if he never admitted it, but I hated it. I hated Mycroft making fun of me, it made me feel like he was smarter than me…” Sherlock’s cheeks reddened. “I did not mean for that to sound as conceited as it did.”
“To be fair, you were quite a conceited child,” Y/N teased, squeezing his hand and Sherlock chuckled. “But… what do you mean, how you felt about me?”
“You really want me to spell it out for you?” Sherlock asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“You said it yourself, I always was a little slow,” she grinned, “at least compared to you.”
Her heart was pounding out of her chest, she could barely breathe from the excitement at the idea that Sherlock was hinting at what she thought he was.
“You have to know by now that you are the only woman who I have ever held a place for in my heart.” He paused, shrugging his shoulders bashfully. “Or you were.”
“Enola?”
“Of course,” he confirmed. He lifted her hand tentatively up, pressing his lips gently against the back of it, keeping his gaze lowered. “I just hope that you know you never left it.”
The rest of the journey passed in a blur, the two of them having the final catch up that had been missing for so many years, everything feeling as though it was falling back into place, just like everything had been when they were kids.
By the time the train pulled into the station at London, Y/N had no desire to say goodbye to Sherlock Holmes, and by the way he loitered with her on the platform, it appeared that the sentiment was returned.
“Where are you headed?” Sherlock inquired. “I know Enola wouldn’t want you to tell me her address, but…”
“I’m actually meeting her at a cafe,” Y/N told him, adjusting her grip on her bag and smiling at him.
“In that case… would you allow me to escort you? London can be rather confusing at times, especially for those used to the country lifestyle,” he suggested and if Y/N didn’t know any better, she would have thought he was blushing a little in embarrassment.
“I would appreciate that yes, thank you Sherlock,” she agreed and Sherlock offered her his arm.
Enola did not seem overly surprised at Sherlock’s presence beside Y/N. There was a slight raise of her eyebrows, a knowing smile on her face and a gleam of amusement in her eyes as she walked over to them, her arms laden with a bunch of yellow roses.
“It’s so wonderful to see you again,” she said, completely bypassing her brother and embracing Y/N as carefully as she could with the flowers in her hands.
“I was so happy to hear from you, I was so worried about you,” Y/N told her, pulling away and examining her surrogate sister for any trace of hurt.
“I promise I’m fine,” Enola laughed, holding out the flowers for her. “I bought these for you, though.”
“They’re beautiful, thank you.” 
Enola’s eyes slid over to Sherlock at last, who was standing awkwardly to the side. Y/N could sense how his own gaze was flicking continuously between herself and his sister, clearly overjoyed at seeing her again but also wanting to continue the conversation he and Y/N had been holding on the train.
“It’s more of an apology, actually,” Enola mused. “I’m afraid that something has come up and my assistance is required… elsewhere. Perhaps Sherlock would take my place?” She raised her eyebrows at her brother.
“I-uh-”
“Fantastic!” Enola cheered, hugging Y/N once more and giving a nod to her brother before rushing away.
“Did your sister just set us up?” Y/N asked, turning to face the younger Holmes brother.
“I think so,” Sherlock confirmed. “For what it’s worth, she hasn’t gone far, I believe she has every intention of snooping on us.”
Y/N laughed at that piece of knowledge, rolling her eyes affectionately at Enola’s antics before placing her hand once more in Sherlock’s arm. He reached across her to take her bag to allow her to hold the flowers.
“Well we wouldn’t want to disappoint her, now would we?” Y/N said, nodding towards the door to the cafe, not missing the affectionate smile it brought to Sherlock’s face.
As he held the door open for her, Y/N reached up onto her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
1K notes · View notes
kaeyas-beloved · 3 years
Text
Be You {Leviathan x Reader}
Leviathan x Reader (They/Them) || Obey Me!
Warning(s): None (Well, actually I make Levi bully Mammon for less than a paragraph)
Note: This was a request I received from someone on Wattpad!
Tumblr media
-------------------
Finally, Leviathan’s done it. It’s been a long three days, hours upon hours having been poured into this playthrough. 
“Woop woop! Aren’t I the best!” he praised himself, smiling wide. He’s skipped meals, pushed assignments to a later date and avoided any outside interactions to finish this game. His sight may be blurry and his limbs numb but if those were the sacrifices he had to make to go full completionist then it was all worth it. Now, time to celebrate a well deserved win.
“I think this calls for some of Ruri-chan’s celebratory season 3 limited edition candy and-!”
A chorus of knocks on his door immediately snuffed out his joy. Levi scowled, turning to glare at his door from his chair, it’s gotta be Mammon. The third born is absolutely positive that it’s his scummy older brother - it always is - back yet again to mooch more money off him for a trip to the casino. The usual slander he and his brothers would throw at the second born was on the tip of his tongue, ready to fire at will. 
“Hey Levi? You there? It’s me....”
A voice that definitely doesn’t belong to the second born piping up and Levi, halfway through spouting the first syllable, shuts up all together. That’s his normie. A weight presses on his heart: he was just about to yell and insult his Henry… 
Clearing his throat in hopes of gaining some kind of composure (all previous anger having diminished) the usual “What’s the password?” came out in a stutter. The demon was only acutely aware of his heart beat. How it skipped periodically. How it raced like he himself just ran a marathon. Levi waits a moment for the human to finish reciting the TSL excerpt. His hands begin to shake, his palms exuding profuse amounts of sweat. Gah! Why was he so nervous? Yeah, he’s aware that he’s just some gross shut-in otaku but he shouldn’t be this anxious! It’s not like this is the first time the exchange student has hung out in his room... alone... with him…
“Yo Levi?”
“Yes MC?”
“You think you could open the door now? Please?” Snapped back to reality, Levi hastily opened the door, finding himself regretting it soon after.
“I, uh, MC? What do you…?” his voice trailed off, orange gradient eyes locked on their garments. Immediately he sputtered, taking a step back. A bright scarlet coated his pale cheeks. Levi tried to hide it with his hand, though it was proven useless. The sea demon's at a toss up; should he screech? Slam the door shut? Combust all together!? At the rate he’s going, number three is looking pretty probable.
On the other end of this exchange, the human stood almost timidly out in the hall, fingers fiddling with one another while their eyes darted anywhere but at the man in front of them. The words of the fifth born rang in their ears:
“You absolutely have to wear this dear! My brother would surely fall head over heels for you, even more so than he already is!”
Oh whyyyyy did they trust him? Cause he had knowledge in fashion and love? Yeah, that was it. Still, if this turns south Asmo is going to get a lecture worse than any Lucifer could ever give… Damn, they really should’ve never let the lust demon shoo them into his private bathroom and make them change into this girly outfit. 
And it hit them all at once: Levi doesn’t like it, what they’re wearing. What if he never talks to them after this? Maybe if they leave now then there will still be a chance they can forget about this.
Time went on slowly, like people who walk through mud are, and MC just about tuck tail and ran, what they had planned and gained courage for be damned. 
Levi had other plans though. 
Only now registering that the two were standing out in the open for all to see, in a blind and desperate attempt to save himself and the human from embarrassment, the third born latched onto their wrist, yanking them into the safety of his room. Unfortunately, demon strength is a funny thing and Levi had handled them with more force than he meant to, the human crashing into his chest - hard. 
Perhaps it was instinct -- a need to protect the fragile being within his grasp -- but the demon's arm found purchase around their form, pulling them almost impossibly closer as they tipped. The pair, balance long gone, toppled over, landing with a thud.
Somehow, just like in all the romance anime he’s watched, Levi found himself hovering over them, arms propped on either side of their head. Their noses brushed, both staring frozen into each other's eyes. It wasn’t everyday that either of them were this close to one another, the exception being when the duo falls asleep playing video games. God, with this kind of proximity he was sure that the normie could hear how fast his meek heart was pounding. If this went on any longer he might actually die.
“Levi?” They whispered, their voice so quiet that he almost missed the call of his name. He however did catch their whisper and tensed up before coming back to the here and now, catching sight of the ‘what’ that led to their current position. Standing, Levi’s face burned hotter than ever before.
‘It was all because of them,’ he thought, turning away turning away with tense shoulders as he still tries to mask the red that licked all the way up to his ears. ‘It’s always their fault when I start to feel like I do now!’
“S-stupid n-normie! Why are you even wearing that?” he asked, chancing a glance over his shoulder. Levi did have to admit… they looked kinda cute in those clothes… and it looked like something Ruri-chan would wear too… 
Gah! No no no focus Levi!
The ‘normie’ didn’t answer right away, instead raising to their feet and opting to grab a bag from beside the door. That wasn’t there before. 
“Asmo…” they sighed, turning back to face the demon, nervousness swirling within them. Now or never, “Asmo said you’d like it if I wore something like this” So this is Asmo’s doing? Damn him… “Anyway, here, take it.”
“Wha-?” A shimmering gift bag the same colour of the water Henry his goldfish swam in was thrust into his hands, whatever he was about to say dying in his throat. 
A present? For him? Oh why must a no good otaku like him have to go through such an intimate endeavor???? He just can’t take it! 
Then again, this was like that one scene from season 2 ep. 22 of this anime he binged: I Forget Important Dates all the time which causes me to get into really awkward situations. This time I forgot about my Birthday and my Crush handed me a bag before confessing their love for me!
So-! Spurred on by fictional characters and MC’s urging “go on, open it”, Levi tore the tape, presented with his spontaneous gift: a popular multiplayer game from the human world; one near impossible to get in Devildom.
“WHAOOO!” MC couldn’t help but think how much he’s acting like a kid on Christmas, the notion cute in their opinion. The human stood still for a couple minutes, allowing their friend to rant and gush over the game (and how cool they were for even acquiring it).
“But…” the purple haired demon calmed down, “why did you suddenly give me this?” What? Did he not know what today was?
“It’s… it is your birthday isn’t it!?” Don’t tell them Asmo lied to them about Levi’s birthday!
Levi pulled out his phone, his eyes widening to the size of saucers, “No, it is my birthday,” he assured. With all the gaming he was doing he must've failed to noticed, which is strange considering the last time his special day drew near he practically counted down the days. 
“MC.” He got their attention, looking them right in the eye, his words and actions portraying a sureness and sincerity, “Thank you and…” As quick as lightning strikes the ground, the human had themselves pulled flush against Levi once more, his head resting on their shoulder and nose buried in the crook of their neck. His hair, so soft and fluffy, left a ticklish sensation on their skin.
“And about what you said before. With Asmo. I do like what you’re wearing but…” he tightens his hold, “I like you just the way you are. I know you don’t usually dress like this and I want nothing more than for you to be comfortable, like how you make me. If that means dressing tomboy-ish then so be it. I want you to be you: the human only you can be: my Henry.” 
“I’m glad you feel that way…” They smiled, arms wrapping around his torso. They hope their gratitude is able to shine through in the hug, “Now, ya wanna play your new game?”
“Yes!” He smiled, pulling back and raising his hand. They return the grin, suppressing a chuckle seeing as the demon reminded them of the YES demoji. “Oh, but um! Would you like to change first? It’s not that I don’t like seeing you dressed like that or anything but like I said I want you to be comfortable but also I don’t think my heart can take it anymore… wait that’s not what I meant!” That made them chuckle though.
“Do I have to?” They teased, enjoying the reaction they got out of the third born. Levi gulped, ducking his head while whispering a small no. “Then maybe I’ll stay like this a little longer. It is your birthday after all.” Tugging the envy demon towards their usual gaming spot they let Levi set up the game before the two plopped down in their spots.
“Oh and Levi?” He hummed, tilting his head, the light of the screen illuminating the side of his face. They hugged him once more, “Happy Birthday”
-------------------
[Masterlist]
Thank you for reading!
126 notes · View notes
loquaciousquark · 3 years
Text
Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E116-119 (Dec. 15, 2020)
Hi! I missed the first three minutes or so and opened the stream to Brian giving an absolutely incoherent ...ad? for some jewel game? Six thousand jewels just for logging in? Some app in the app store and he’s literally been talking about this now for six minutes and I don’t know what he’s talking about. He finally wraps up, Laura brings the show to a close, and we’re all a little worse than we were before.
Ashley tries to get us back on track and Henry bays over her. Brian tries to ask the first question and breaks off into feigned sobs halfway through. This is chaos incarnate.
Tonight’s guests: Laura Bailey & Ashley Johnson.
How’s Yasha feeling right now about Molly? She and Jester both are desperately curious about whether there’s a spark of Molly left in Lucien that can be brought back. It’s not the same as when Yasha was controlled by Obann; this seems more like just the way this is now. They’d settle for even finding the good in him, like they did with Essek. Brian jokes that they can monitor his mental state if Matt’s Irish accent starts to slip a little bit.
Jester is a little wary about scrying on Lucien now since he’s able to see her back.  She’s interested to try again now that Fjord’s given her the necklace.
Ashley has to run and grab a replacement set of headphones from Brian after hers get “crunchy.” It’s pretty cute seeing them run around and smooch on another screen. Brian teases that he doesn’t have any more questions for Jester since Caduceus has been doing all the healing lately. Laura tells us indignantly that she had Heal prepared for Caduceus in that last big fight, but Fjord got to Cad first. Brian explains how this is the same as all the good jokes he always lines up for Talks but never tells. Ashley’s crunchiness continues and we go briefly to a technical difficulties screen while Brian hops up to fix it.
Dani pips in to get this show back on track. Save us, Dani!
Ashley hadn’t thought about the aspect of Lucien controlling his friends’ minds, but finds it really creepy. It’s a cool game dynamic, and it’s a little different because they’re there willingly, but it’s really weird.
Jester thinks that “the tarot cards know all. She wants to buy into it real hard.” If it doesn’t make sense now, it will later. Laura has an Idiot’s Guide to Tarot Reading.
They’re super interested in why Aeor is like it is. Were they more advanced than us? Did they evolve along a different line? Ashley loves sci-fi and is all about this, especially since she wasn’t there for Happy Fun Ball time & hasn’t been able to get caught up on some of the things she missed in between, so she’s using this as an erstwhile replacement. She can already tell there are some things from this campaign that will bother her the way the unopened box did from C1. She and Laura both seethe at the camera about having to leave the spider behind.
Cosplay of the Week! Harland3r on instagram with a gorgeous winged Pike with a shield & mace. It’s an incredible photo and the wings look great.
Travis distracts Laura by dancing like a Trex offscreen. That seems right for this episode.
Jester’s encouragement of Yasha pursuing Beau was important in a lot of ways, not least because Ashley considered herself as uninterested in D&D romance as Travis & was a little unsure of activating a romance among her friends. However, it felt really natural within the game and it was really helpful to have Jester’s in-game encouragement. Yasha’s grown a lot and is in a much more positive place and is ready to find out what’s possible. Laura: “Jester from the get-go has seen Yasha as this wonderful soul from the beginning, and has seen how sad Yasha’s been through everything, and to see the difference that she exhibits when talking about Beau is drastic and wonderful. Jester’s joy in life is helping others find joy.”
Ashley points out it’s also so fun to “yes-and” with Laura because you’re like a little kid being dragged along by the hand - you don’t know where it’s going, but you know it’s going to be fun along the way.
Ashley does have a sense of “thank goodness Marisha isn’t jumping right into this” so she can coax herself into it, but when she tried to figure out the poem she had a lot of drafts that didn’t survive. She intentionally crafted the letter to give Beau an out if she didn’t feel the same way. There’s a lot going on with Lucien right now and there’s constantly a running thought in the back of her head about “maybe Beau is not into this.” Even the last couple episodes with Jester & Fjord have had Ashley finally understand shipping.
Brian brings us to the moment “almost as romantic as the pre-season finale of the Bachelorette.” Jester was “goo” afterwards. Early on in the campaign, Jester was very forward with her flirtations with Fjord & he shut her down. And then he kissed her underwater and immediately went and slept with Avantika, and Jester automatically shut herself down, because she thought she was misunderstanding & would only be hurt by those emotions. She deliberately focused on just being there with her friends, making everyone healthy and happy. These last few episodes where Fjord was flirting back felt like “my teenage heart again, my first kiss, the boy I like actually likes me back!” and she was able to open back up.
Yasha definitely has some instrument plans for those bones. She doesn’t know if she’s going to add to her harp or create a new one.
Ashley and Laura cheer about Travis stepping out his comfort zone. Laura thinks it was really good that he was doing it with her, his real-life wife, to see if he likes that sort of stuff in his D&D campaign. “It was just so sweet. It was just so sweet.” Brian says he’s actually a really romantic dude & Dani is so glad he asked before the kiss. Brian: “It’s going to be so sad when he breaks your heart and goes back to the corpse of Avantika.” Laura: “It’s fine, Jester will be long dead by then anyway.”
Jester does believe the four-year time trade was worth it, but that the city leaves “a mark on your brain,” especially as in-depth as she saw it. “Jester’s always been reticent to talk about her age because she’s aware she’s perceived in a juvenile way by a lot of people, and she’s insecure about that. She grew up by herself without a lot of social interactions and is experienced in a lot of ways now and naive in others; she’s very aware of human emotion around her, but chooses to see it in a certain way.” Losing the time makes her wonder if she needs to grow up & become an adult about certain things now. Laura: “I think actually she’s closer to Fjord’s age now. Actually, I’m not sure about his age. I don’t know how old he is - I’ve never even asked Travis!” Brian: “I think he’s definitely fifteen.” Laura: “Travis, how old is Fjord?” Travis, off-screen: “Sixty-five,” but he’s had the Mask of Many Faces up this whole time. Later, he adds that he’s in his early 30s.
Ashley has really enjoyed digging into Yasha’s more humorous side lately. It’s how she gets comfortable as a player, making it fun and light in a way that this year needs. “It’s also really funny to think that Yasha doesn’t know how Message works.”
Brian congratulates Laura & Ashley both on their game awards nominations. Brian vamps trying to get himself in as the presenter, but incidentally refers to Laura as his sister in the conversation and it’s super cute. “I would like to be the one to give the award to either my fiancee, or my sister!”
Fanart of the Week: @ethanmaldridge with an illustrated page from the Katzenprinz book. It’s just beautiful.
Jester’s polymorph gambit was terrifying, but the stakes got even higher when everyone else got stunned. She does lament choosing a bunny at the start. “Frickin’ Fjord’s armor!”
Yasha loves being polymorphed lately. She thinks it’s kinda funny, especially given her rigid upbringing with such defined roles.
Laura feels like Jester and Vex are weirdly two halves of herself. Brian: “You see the very bargainy, I’m gonna use my wit & smarts to negotiate situations. But at the same time, you’re very open to what people are thinking & feeling and navigating that. What you end up putting out (though it comes across as innocent and naive) is something pure because she truly believes it.” Laura thinks Yasha and Pike are the same way for Ashley, though Ashley feels a little closer to Yasha right now. Sometimes you just feel really exposed. Laura compares how much idealism she put into Jester to her character from Fruits Basket.
Since Yasha didn’t belong to either side in the war, she’s not hugely concerned by the fallout; she more wants to make sure her found family are okay and safe. Jester is the same way, Laura tells us. Jester doesn’t have any greater vision of the Empire & Dynasty interacting; she cares about the people, and it hasn’t been until the vision with the city that she kind of woke up and realized they have to really stop this now. It feels bigger than the Dynasty/Empire. Ashley: “It seems more of a thing for Beau and Caleb to care about.”
Really, up to now Jester was mostly concerned about getting Molly back, but now the stakes seem much higher. “We have to do this. We have to complete this, to beat them, to keep them from doing this.” Yasha is just going with the flow for now. There’s a lot coming at them and they are ready to find out what’s next.
And that’s that for tonight! Brian thanks the crew especially for working incredibly hard on switching everything to home-based streaming. He then gets stuck halfway spinning around in his chair and the last thing we hear is him idly wondering “What’s Fjord taste like?” which seems pretty on brand for tonight’s show. Is it Thursday yet?
332 notes · View notes
Text
Truth and Awakenings Ch. 3
Summary: A Jemily rewrite of certain scenes in 14x15-15x02, with a few additional scenes :)
Chapter summary: JJ finds Everett Lynch and his daughter before getting shot.
(TW: blood, guns)
Read on AO3
About a week had passed and the team gets a call that Everett Lynch was back to break Grace out of jail, and they had to find the father-daughter duo fast before they cause any more damage. Emily had assigned JJ to partner up with her during this case, and they were locating Lynch and his daughter.
The two agents exited the car, slamming the doors closed. “Emily, I don’t think we can wait for backup,” JJ said, pulling out her gun.
Emily nodded and pointed straight ahead before running. “Alright, I’ll take this one. You take the parking garage at Piedmont and 10th.”
JJ had her gun aimed and steady in her hands as she made her way through the parking garage. She came around a corner before she made her presence known to the father and daughter.
“Everett Lynch, FBI! Stop!” She yelled, face stern. “Drop your weapon and place your hands on your head. Now!”
“Ok! Hey! Take it easy,” Everett raised his hands before slowly placing his gun on the ground. “Gee, lady, there’s no reason to gun down a daddy in front of his little girl.”
“All right, kick it over. Kick it over!” she yelled again, not breaking eye contact with the father. He kicked the gun over to her, and Grace was still standing with her bag.
JJ looked at the girl, “All right, Grace, you, too. Come on. Drop your backpack and let me see your hands. Come on! Now!” She did as she was told and slowly dropped the item.
“All right. Don’t move,” JJ warned the two. She carefully angled her body and reached down to grab the gun Everett had kicked over.
Grace pulled a gun that was hidden inside her jacket and aimed it towards the agent. JJ heard three gunshots crack in the parking garage, and fell back down to the ground as blood started to pool from the left side of her stomach. All she heard was faint laughter from Everett and tires screeching, concluding that the father and daughter had driven away.
The blonde was lying down on the ground, coughing up the copper-y taste of liquid out of her mouth. She tried to move but found that she couldn’t, and instead, tried to calmly breathe as best as she could.
“JJ, what’s your location?” she barely heard through her earpiece. ”JJ, do you copy? JJ?” She couldn’t answer. The voice sounded feminine and in a hurry. JJ closed her eyes and silently prayed it was her coming to her rescue. ”Hold on. I’m on my way.”
In less than a minute later, JJ blinked a few times and saw a body moving towards her. It was blurry to see their face. They had lightish hair and were murmuring their worries for the injured agent. It was Emily.
“No, no, no. Come on, JJ,” Emily panicked, putting her gun back in her holster. “You’re ok. You’re gonna be ok,” she said and tried to cover her wound. She yelled into her small mic, “JJ’s down! She’s been hit, we need an ambulance. Now!”
“Emily…” JJ weakly coughed out.
“Shh. Just- just stay with me, ok? Just keep breathing. Eyes on me,” Emily instructed. “Get an ambulance, now, damn it!” she ordered again in an almost shaky voice. Her hands nervously shook. The recurring nightmare she had years ago was starting to come to life: finding JJ lying on the ground surrounded by blood.
JJ nodded in response, fingers reaching out to grab Emily’s other hand. The blonde squeezed her wrist and felt her hand being enveloped by Emily’s.
“Please d- don’t leave me, Emily,” JJ said, struggling to keep her eyes open. She needed to let herself know that Emily wasn’t going to fade away, like she did in her hallucination when she was tortured and at her breaking point. So, she tightly held Emily’s hand close to her stomach to ground herself.
Emily softly shook her head and rubbed a thumb over JJ’s knuckles. “I got you, JJ. I got you.”
When the ambulance came, the unit chief had gone with them. During the ride to the hospital, JJ found Emily’s hand again and ran both of her thumbs over her knuckles, squeezing it for reassurance to both Emily and herself. Emily frowned at JJ, all of a sudden feeling guilty. She didn’t want anyone getting hurt, especially if they were one of her closest friends.
“It’s ok. You’re gonna be ok, JJ.” At this point, Emily didn't know if she was telling JJ or herself that. The younger agent nodded and her eyes became a little heavier.
One of the paramedics looked at the two women, and nodded their head towards Emily. “Are you her wife?”
Emily’s eyes widened at the assumption. “Oh, n- no. She has a husband.”
They chuckled and shook their head, “Could’ve fooled me.”
Emily furrowed her eyebrows at the remark. Did people really think she and JJ were married? Sure, they were close, but… did they ever act or look like a couple? She shook her head at the thought and focused on her friend’s grip on her hand, which had started loosening. That was the moment Emily lifted her free hand to bite on her thumbnail.
--------------------
The hospital back doors opened and the paramedics made their way inside, pushing the gurney JJ was on, while Emily followed closely behind. The blonde heard several voices talking over her.
“Spike a one-liter bag.”
“Airway’s unstable. Check for arterial bleeds.”
“Gunshot wound to the upper torso. Bullet entered under left arm. No exit wound. Pulse is thready, breathing shallow.”
Emily stood back and watched the medical staff hooked JJ to the machines, clipping the pulse oximeter onto her index finger and checking her blood pressure.
“Need her for transfer.”
“Stats are dropping. High flow O2. 15 liters.”
A gradual rapid beeping was heard on the EKG machine, and Emily’s eyes switched back and forth between JJ and the screen. “She’s crashing.”
Emily quietly gasped and her eyes widened in fear. Her hands slightly shook again, and she lifted one of them to her mouth to chew on her thumbnail again, suddenly finding it difficult to file away into the little boxes of her mind. I can’t lose her.
The doctor stepped in and grabbed the defibrillator paddles, rubbing the liquid gel together. “Clear.”
JJ’s body quickly jumped at the shock and the beeping slowed down a little. “I got a heartbeat.” Emily sighed in relief.
The doctor made her way towards the grey-haired woman. “Are you her partner?”
“No. I- I can call him and tell him what’s going on,” Emily stammered. Seriously, what was it with the people in this hospital thinking she and JJ were a couple?
“He better get here quick.”
Emily nodded and pulled her phone out of her pocket, dialling Will’s number.
--------------------
Will opened the hospital door in the front and Emily stood up from her chair. “Will.”
“How did this happen?” Will asked in confusion. “Why wasn’t she wearing a vest?”
“She was. The bullet missed the kevlar and entered just under her arm,” Emily said. She knew how protective he was of JJ. Of course, he’s her husband, so he has to be. Even though Will trusted JJ in her abilities as an agent, Emily knew he didn’t like hearing about JJ getting hurt on the job. Neither did she.
WIll glanced down for a moment. “The doctor told me her heart stopped.”
Emily hesitantly nodded, momentarily closing her eyes to keep that thought away from her. “It did, but they brought her back.”
“I need to see her.”
“She’s already in surgery,” she said. “It’s gonna be a while. Why don’t you sit down?”
Will sighed deeply before sitting down. Emily looked at him with sympathy. He really cared for JJ and she could see that. And JJ loves him, too. She didn’t want to disrupt a perfectly happy marriage for her own selfish reasons.
“Um… Is it ok if I wait with you?” Emily offered.
“Yeah, of course,” Will nodded, making room for her to sit down. “You know, Emily, JJ’s gonna want to see you, too, when she wakes up.”
Emily gave a silent nod to his statement. “She’s strong,” she chuckled. “I know she can make it through this.”
Her eyes landed back to her lap and began picking at her fingernails, one of the signs that showed she was stressed. Emily had called Garcia earlier to inform the team that Lynch and his daughter ran away again before waiting for Will. She desperately wanted to focus her attention back on the case, but JJ getting hurt kept intruding her thoughts.
Will turned his head to see Emily tapping her foot and looking away from him. He knew how worried she was about his ex-wife. The fact that she had been showing almost all signs of stress right now told him that she really loves and cares for JJ.
Will thought back to the two women’s interactions, and how much they’ve worried over each other when the other person was in danger. He remembered seeing the sudden brightness in JJ’s eyes and how her body eases whenever Emily was around. When Will was strapped to a bomb during that one case with bank-robbing, terroristic unsubs, he trusted Emily to take care of JJ and Henry for him, if he died.
At that moment, Will realized how in love both Emily and his ex-wife are with each other. He doesn’t know if JJ had told her already, but whatever happens, he was always going to be supportive of them.
25 notes · View notes
barbie-shoes · 4 years
Text
Dark SQ fic
So after hopping back on tumblr for the first time in a long time today I got a little Swan Queen nostalgia and was looking through my WIPs and found this Dark SQ fic I started back some time around the Jekyll and Hyde arch. So I thought I’d share what I’d found and see if the SQ fandom is still interested in an idea like this, as sober living and corona got me with a lot of spare time on my hands lol.
———
‘Untitled’ Dark Swan Queen
“You're sure you want to do this?” Emma asked, nodding her head once to indicate the syringe in Regina's hand.
“Yes,” Regina replied resolutely. “I want her gone.”
“Okay,” Emma bobbed her head a few times as she held up a second syringe. “Then we do this together.”
“Together,” Regina agreed.
Of course, she had tried to talk Emma out of it. Emma was good, she'd always been good– that one little hiccup with Cruella and her time as the Dark One notwithstanding. Even so, both happened under the best of intentions. She protected Henry. And she protected Regina.
It was always a futile argument, she'd known from the start. Emma was as stubborn as they came, and her mind was made.
Emma had her reasons, none of which were disclosed to Regina. She still feared the potential for darkness in her heart, the things she felt under the curse of the Dark One. It wasn't that she didn't trust Regina, there simply wasn't enough time to get into all that before Emma's mother came looking for them. Emma was certain the woman would vehemently object to her daughter joining in Regina's endeavor to split from her darker half. So time was of the essence.
“On three?” Emma suggested, poising the needle towards her outstretched arm.
Regina pursed her lips, wishing Emma wouldn't do this. It was a risk she didn't mind taking for herself, but she hated Emma's willfulness to put herself in unnecessary danger. She was pretty sure the woman would go ahead with or without her at this point, and so she sighed and gave a sharp nod of her head in agreement.
“One,” Emma counted.
“Two,” Regina continued, placing her own syringe against her skin.
“Three,” they said in unison, both plunging the needles into their arms before either could lose their nerve.
The liquid burned under their skin as it flowed through their veins. Almost instantly their bodies began to cramp and convulse, wracked with a searing pain as if their other halves were being physically ripped out of them. It was more excruciating than childbirth, Emma thought. Regina wondered why it hadn't occurred to them that removing a part of yourself might be physically painful.
Then quite suddenly it all stopped. Not even a dull sting remained. Emma straightened her posture and opened her eyes to a positively terrified and stricken Regina staring straight ahead. Following the woman's gaze, Emma found herself once again face to face with the Evil Queen, hair piled high on top of her head with one silky curled section draped over her shoulder. Her black skirt bellowed in the wind under a dramatic black blazer with sharp, dagger-like shoulders. Her dark burgundy lips spread into a menacing sneer, and Emma's gawking came to an abrupt halt with a fireball instinctually springing to life in her hand.
“Ah, ah, ah,” another voice jeered just outside Emma's field of vision. Her head snapped towards the source, and her jaw dropped. It was her, but it wasn't her. Dressed in lacquered black pants and a distinguished black leather jacket, the woman had Emma's face but she was paler, with hair white as fresh snow. A braid snaked down the back of her head, around her neck and over her chest. She, too, held a ball of fire in her palm, red lips smirking dangerously. “I wouldn't do that if I were you.”
Regina seemed to find her wits again at that, hearing Emma's voice so cold and taunting.
“You're the Dark One,” Regina said, the words falling uncertainly out of her mouth of their own accord.
“Not technically, no,” the woman replied banefully, turning a sharp glare towards Emma. “Not since this one so stupidly let our power fall back into the hands of Rumpelstiltskin. But I suppose you could call me... the Dark Swan.”
“Could we put the toys away, girls?” the Evil Queen asked both Emmas like they were nothing more than naughty children. “Honestly, everyone on this rooftop knows how to conjure a fireball; they're hardly going to be of any use. Can't we all just have a little talk?”
Her voice was sickly sweet and Regina wasn't buying it for a second.
“You never want to just talk,” she said, heavy with suspicion. “Don't forget that I know your games.”
The Evil Queen laughed dramatically and clapped her hands together with delight.
“Indeed you do!” she cackled. “And yet, this is a most unique situation we find ourselves in, is it not?”
“Enough with the chit-chat,” Emma's counterpart sighed in exasperation. Then, turning to address the Evil Queen, “Have you already forgotten why they brought us here in the first place?”
“My, my! You do have a point, dear,” the Evil Queen replied with her usual flourish. “That is quite troublesome, isn't it?”
“You see,” the Dark Swan began, much more stoically than her newfound companion. “Up until just moments ago, we were still you. Which means that we know exactly what you're planning to do.”
“The problem is,” the Evil Queen picked up, apparently knowing just where this monologue was headed, “that we're stronger than you. Without us inside you, you don't have the gall to follow through.” She finished her statement with a furled lip, as though appalled by the shortcomings of the plain women before her.
“Regina...” Emma whispered to the woman beside her, feeling more helpless than she could ever remember since she was a child, hoping against hope that she was the only one. She desperately needed Regina's strength right now.
Regina just glanced at her with a hapless expression, her eyes conveying everything. They had made an absolutely terrible mistake.
It was at that moment that Snow burst through the door to the rooftop, immediately frozen in her tracks not by magic, but utter disbelief.
“Oh, Emma,” she bemoaned, woefully addressing the daughter she recognized. “What did you do?”
“What's the matter, mommy dearest?” the Dark Swan spat. “Can't face the other side of the little girl you abandoned? You two-faced hypocrite.”
“Oh,” the Evil Queen gasped gleefully at the admonishing, “I think you and I shall get along quite well. Care to join me in departing this wretched crowd?”
The Evil Queen extended her dainty hand and the Dark Swan surveyed the faces around her with aberration.
“Miss Swan?” the Evil Queen inquired, not exactly irritated but ill inclined to patience.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the Dark Swan replied, placing her hand in the one proffered with a devious glint. “I would absolutely love to.”
With a wave of the arm and a cloud of purple smoke, they were gone.
Neither Emma nor Regina could quite process what just happened. The Evil Queen and the Dark Swan were now loose, uninhibited, and apparently newfound allies. Even worse, they were right. They were stronger than Emma and Regina in so many ways.
When at last they each found the courage to face the woman that discovered them in the midst of their faux pas, it was to be met with folded arms and a disapproving glare.
“The two of you,” Snow hissed slowly, “have a lot of explaining to do.”
———
There wasn't really much else to do than make their way back to Storybrooke. They couldn't exactly go scouring the entire world for their Dark counterparts. That was, after all, quite a lot of ground to cover.
They'd hoped that going home they might find some relief, both from the pains of their pasts and from the guilt of what they'd done. Days meandered by, and there seemed to be little relief in sight.
“How are you feeling?” Regina asked at the diner. It had been three days, to be precise, and she couldn't take not knowing if she was the only one any longer.
“How so?” Emma asked with a nonchalant shrug, though her tone belied her indifference.
“You know what I mean,” Regina rolled her eyes. “Since the split.”
It was strange, her interactions with Emma now. She cared for the woman a great deal, she always did. But her care had altered somehow in the past few days. She would die to protect Emma, and yet, it didn't feel the same.
“I feel,” Emma started, then stopped, uncertain she wanted to say how she truly felt. But this was Regina, she told herself, and wasn't she always open with Regina? She didn't want to question her hesitation, and so she powered on. “I feel... nothing. I mean, not nothing.” Her fingers worried at the base of her neck. “It's just... everything is dimmed, you know? Like it's there but most of the time it feels just out of reach.”
“Oh, thank heavens,” Regina said, sighing in relief.
“Uh, you're welcome?” Emma replied with a sideways glance and a curious frown.
“No, no,” Regina assured. “Not like that. I don't want there to be anything wrong with you, it's just... I feel the same way.”
As a similar sense of relief washed over her, Emma understood. Something had felt pointedly off kilter inside since the split, and though she wanted Regina's happiness even more than her own sometimes, a common ally right now was most welcome.
“We...” Regina began hesitantly, wondering why her faith in Emma felt so inaccessible. “Do you think we made a mistake?” She inquired, deciding a question was less off putting than her initial statement.
“Probably,” Emma drawled, equally uncertain. “I mean, maybe. Do you?”
Regina stared into her drink, unspeaking. Something was horribly amiss, and they both knew it. Their interactions felt foreign with a far away familiarity, like old classmates at their ten year reunion. They didn't understand why everything was suddenly so awkward, so hard to say aloud.
“I think,” Regina replied, ignoring the waves of incomprehension she felt, “that we need to find the books of this Jekyll and Hyde and figure out just what we've done.”
———
Emma walked home feeling listless, empty. As she always did the past few days. Everything bad was gone and yet... she felt hollow. Henry seemed to be the only thing that could make her shine anymore, but tonight he was with Regina and Emma was alone with her musings.
Or so she thought.
Opening the door to the home she was supposed to share with Hook she was greeted by a voice that was distinctly female.
“Welcome home,” it said with saccharine familiarity. “It's just you and me tonight, kid.”
Emma wanted to yell, but she didn't, frozen in place by her own voice vibrating through her ears though not in her throat.
“Where is Hook?” She finally demanded, cringing at the meekness in her voice. The Dark Swan scoffed.
“You realize how impersonal that name is don't you?” the woman sneered. “Oh, wait, of course you don't. You banished those thoughts to me instead of dealing with them.”
Emma recoiled briefly, foggy memories of uncertainty emerging in the peripheral of her mind's eye but too blurred to make any real sense of.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she shrieked indignantly instead, still confounded by the way it all sounded so incredibly whiny and not at all firm. “And you didn't answer my question.”
The Dark Swan waved her hand dismissively with a rather unimpressed furl of her lip.
“I sent him off,” she replied like it was most mundane. Then, a wicked glint shone in her eyes. “He was awfully quick to comply when I explained who I was. Isn't it interesting,” she inquired, standing now and moving towards Emma, “how willingly he'll flee when faced with anything more than the most amicable version of ourself?”
It hit a cord, the Dark Swan’s observation. Emma felt it strum, but it was as though it played somewhere outside her, with earmuffs that muffled its tune and made it all too easy to pretend she hadn't heard.
“What are you doing here,” she asked, steering the conversation away from the man she was supposed to be sharing this roof with.
“I live here,” the Dark Swan stated simply, shrugging nonchalantly.
“Like hell you do,” Emma spat, finally feeling a tiny bit of fire ignite in her veins. “This is my home!”
The Dark Swan looked like she wanted to laugh, but Emma never laughed under the curse of the Dark One and neither did she now. Still, the amusement she saw in the woman's eyes practically bubbled over.
“I really did get the better end of the stick in this split, didn't I?” The Dark Swan mused, almost to her herself but definitely for Emma's benefit– or detriment, more likely. “You think you're the real Emma Swan, isn't that right? And that I am something other; a foreign entity out to destroy you.” Emma was stricken at the assessment, and at the notion it might be false. “News flash, kiddo. You may not like me, but I don't particularly like you either. And neither of those things make one of us more real than the other. We are equal parts of the same whole. You are merely the version of us that we wanted people to see. The one we tried so hard to become. Which–” she paused thoughtfully, “–would actually make me the more accurately ‘real’ of the two of us.”
“You have no idea–”
“I have every idea,” Dark Swan hissed. “Every single one you don't want to look at, I have it,” she paused menacingly. “Oh...” she drawled dramatically. “The things I could tell you.”
“I don't want to know,” Emma replied staunchly. “I don't want anything to do with you!”
The Dark Swan crept closer still.
“I bet you don't,” she heaved in a breathy whisper. “I bet you don't want to be reminded of the nights you lay awake next to your boyfriend, wondering what Regina's lips taste like.”
“I never–”
“They're exquisite, by the way,” the Dark Swan teased. “The most plump, soft, delicious lips we have ever tasted. You could have found out years ago, but you were too afraid. Would you like me to tell me things you never even dared consider? Like what it feels like to make her moan with your lips wrapped around her–”
“Stop!” Emma yelled, hating with everything she had the way she suddenly burned between her legs. She knew, in some far off way, that she had questioned this before. But she didn't anymore and that was a good thing. This parody of her only wanted to play on her vulnerabilities.
“Are you sure?” The Dark Swan jeered. “You don't want to hear about how hard she–”
“No!” Emma yelled, exasperated and short of breath at the very notions placed in her head. This woman was just messing with her. Trying to get into her head and ruin her happy ending. Sure, the idea of fucking Regina had once made her hot, but it was nothing more than a fantasy. This false iteration of her knew that, and was using that knowledge to try and break her.
“Fine then,” the Dark Swan acquiesced smugly, turning for the stairs. “I'm planning to sleep in my own bed tonight. You're welcome to the couch if you don't care to join me.”
Though her fire felt dimmed and she would quite nearly rather die than share a bed with her counterpart, she huffed and made her way up the stairs as well because Emma Swan would be damned if she let this character of herself get the best of her.
———
A similar conversation transpired simultaneously at 108 Mifflin Street, though Regina was hardly surprised to find her other half draped regally across the living room sofa.
“Took you long enough,” Regina muttered, rolling her eyes. She knew her own antics well enough to know the Evil Queen was sat in this lounging position quite intentionally, ensuring it was obvious she felt quite at home in the mansion.
“Miss Swan and I decided to take a little detour,” the Evil Queen replied mischievously, and Regina's heart sank.
“You didn't...” she pleaded.
“Oh, of course I did!” The Evil Queen purred. “I did everything you've ever dreamed of. She's quite the tasty snack, that Emma Swan.”
Regina's stomach roiled. She might not be able to feel the feelings she felt for Emma for so long anymore, but the woman still meant the world to her. And she remembered vividly just how badly she had wanted, needed, and loved Emma before this split. It should have been easier now, to not feel those things, but the only thing she felt was empty.
And now, afraid. Because she was fairly certain they needed to merge back together with their other halves. And whatever happened between the Evil Queen and Emma's counterpart was surely nothing Emma would have ever actually wanted. Even without those deep, longing feelings in her head, Regina dreaded the loss when Emma realized the truth.
“How could you?” Regina gasped, surprised to find her voice trembling with tears.
“How could you not?” The Evil Queen hissed back. “You know very well that sleazy pirate is no good for her. Can you honestly say you thought you were doing the honorable thing by never speaking up? Or were you merely a coward?”
Really, it was a difficult question to answer with so many of her emotions held just outside of her grasp. She was pretty sure though that she wouldn't have let her own fear stop her if it meant doing right by Emma. Sure, Regina loathed the one handed wonder with every fiber of her being. But that was for personal reasons– and possibly rather selfish reasons as well, she told herself. She wanted Emma to be happy, and if that's where Emma decided to find her happiness, Regina wouldn't let her own feelings interfere with that.
“How ever you managed to seduce her,” she seethed, fighting the desire to conjure a fireball she knew would be useless right now, “it was under false pretenses. I don't know what that Dark Swan’s motivations are, but I know the real Emma Swan would never have done what you convinced her to do.”
The Evil Queen’s sharp cackle raced down Regina's spine like nails scraping blackboard.
“You two really are so useless without us, aren't you?” She asked rhetorically, dramatically gasping for breath she didn't need as she laughed and then sighed. “Oh, Regina. I didn't seduce Miss Swan at all! In fact it was she who propositioned me. Not to say I wasn't most inclined to indulge her, but nonetheless it was your pretty little blonde that initiated everything. Rather eagerly, I might add.”
Regina didn't know how to respond to that. Sure, she didn't know exactly what this other version of Emma might be up to, but the idea that any side of Emma Swan might actually want her was unfathomable.
“You obviously misunderst–”
“I understand perfectly!” The Evil Queen spat, jarring Regina with her burst of anger. Not because the vitriol itself was unexpected, but it's roots she could not have predicted. “Don't you dare insinuate that I have somehow violated her. I love her. And she loves me.” Regina gaped at the open admission. “Oh, wipe that stupid look off your face like you didn't know,” the Evil Queen groaned. “Or is it that you think I am meant to believe love is weakness? Because I'm fairly certain you kept that particular attribute for yourself.”
111 notes · View notes
oh-phineas · 3 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Emma’s 2021 BDRP Resolutions!
Write your RPer Resolutions for 2021! (What are some goals for yourself as a writer? Improve descriptions? Plot with more members? Etc.)
I’d like to get better at planning long-term and having arcs supported by different mini-stories. I started doing this with Tiana and her restaurant which was a good exercise, but I want to challenge myself to take on less tangible goals as well if that makes sense and finding ways for different characters to get involved in that journey. I think throwing characters together just to see what happens can be a lot of fun and lead to really great interactions, but I’d also like to think more about all the development potential an interaction can have and really jump on that.
I’m also always saying this, but I want to get more comfortable/confident with plotting. Sometimes I feel like I really need to have a fully fleshed-out idea before I approach someone which can lead to me just giving up before I even try because I haven’t fully developed the idea. I want to find a balance where I’m bringing something to the table with plotting but I’m not psyching myself out just because I don’t have a full-blown idea. Because sometimes I think it’s okay to say here’s a vague goal I have, here’s how I think it could work with our characters, let’s see what happens! And overall I just wanna get better at approaching people I don’t write with as often. 
Write at least one resolution, or “goal,” that you have as an RPer for your character(s)
Phineas: Be less freaking selfish! Lol I feel like Phineas’s problems tend to stem from his Main Character Syndrome. Like the kid seriously thinks everything is about him. Honestly, I don’t want to delete that trait from Phineas because I think it is a very important part of his personality. But I want him to seriously reckon with it, see the damage it can cause sometimes and understand that even with the best of intentions, some things just aren’t about him.
Tiana: Learn to rely on other people more! I think the knights can offer this opportunity which is why I wanted to get her involved with them, and I’d also like to see her learn to lean on her staff and the Princess House :) She’s pushed a lot of people away over the years working toward her goal, and now that she’s achieved it, I want to see her navigating relationships and all the messiness that comes with them. Because opening yourself back up is rewarding but it is not uncomplicated!
Aquata: Find a purpose in life other than swimming! That dream is dead! It’s gone! Rest in peace, she is never going to be on the national team and she’s gotta learn to live with it! I’ve spoken to a few people about this but I wanna see her really get involved with Magick rights and dig into her mer-heritage a little bit. Because it’s such a big part of her identity that she’s always sublimated into swimming and I’d love to see her explore it separate from her world as a swimmer.
Henry: I want to do more Order stuff with him. I’d like to set him on a wild goose chase where he totally pursues the wrong person, I think that would be a really fun plot because the exact person he’s trying to stop is RIGHT in front of him!! And he doesn’t even realize and I love some good dramatic irony. 
Ev: I really wanna get some bigger plots moving with her and really shake things up because that was my goal with picking her up initially. I have some stuff in the works but I think I can do more with reaching out to people and planning long-term stuff. And I want her to face the aftermath of her plans: the excitement at seeing it all come together and the guilt of knowing it hurt people, even if she thinks it’s for a greater purpose.
Anna: This is weird because I JUST got her but yeah I’m just excited for college plots! Finding herself! I’ve been thinking about doing some kind of mean girls thing with her bc I think she has Cady Heron parallels lol and I’d love to put her in a situation where she has her loyalty tested. And I also want her to learn to EXPRESS her ANGER. She can get pissed off sometimes but he has this tendency to censor herself when it’s people she cares about. I want her to FIGHT.
Write at least one resolution IN CHARACTER for your characters. What do THEY want to accomplish or change in the New Year?
Phineas: Launch Something Big. It’s the last year before he starts college and he’s running out of time to be a child prodigy!!! Oh no!!! What will he ever do!!! Maybe it’s his first business. His first podcast. His first Ponzi scheme, who knows?? (That is a joke Phineas is not starting a Ponzi scheme). But give him something to try at and fail at!
Tiana: Get situated with the knights, keep making Tiana’s Place a success.....maybe find love?
Aquata: Improve Swynlake. Make it a better place for people to be out Magicks. Improve the environment. Get shit done on Board!!! And stop being weird around Vidia lol
Henry: Figure out what the hell happened on December 21 2020. Hunt down the Unseelie Creatures that Plague the Night. Keep Ashleigh happy <3 Mostly, though, Henry feels like he’s been slacking in his mission and he wants to get back on track.
Ev: Organize a big disaster, preferably taking advantage of cursed people. Gather as much intel about Swynlake as possible. Stop dragging my feet and make it happen!!
Anna: MAKE NEW FRIENDS!! She is so desperate. Fall in love <3 Figure out what the hell actually happened between Elsa and her father and why Elsa never talked to her before now. Make the most of uni :)
List one or more characters you have never interacted with that you would like to do so
Reza!!! He’s on Board with Aquata and has a similar platform. I think they could really work together and I would love to find a way for them to interact.
Ting Ting!!! How am I a Ting Ting stan and I’ve never interacted with her. Tragic. Obv she probably deserves some space rn with all the drama but at some point I would really love to work with her unique form of magic 
Tink!!! She’s got such an interesting story and I want to interact with more fairies in general. 
ROBBIE. Swynlake’s currently only known vampire!! I think he and Henry could be really interesting.
Plotting Exercise! Pick one of the resolutions/goals in #2 and plan a rough guideline to how you could accomplish it. Here’s an example. EXAMPLE OF A MOCK PLOT: HENRY’S WILD GOOSE CHASE
Self Para: Before going back to school, Henry has a talk with his father who tells him that while he knows he is capable, if another widespread Unseelie attack occurs, it’s going to look very bad for him and he needs to figure out what happened.
therefore...
Para: Henry hears loud screeching that keeps him up at night that he concludes must be a banshee. He goes to investigate and runs into KOVU, who is coming back from a “late night walk” and ropes him into helping him search. They don’t find anything, but they are able to trace the sound to DEVYN’s room.
therefore...
Para: Henry ropes ROSE into helping him do research in the library, despite the fact that they are on... not great terms following Rose and Tom’s breakup, by convincing her that there is dark magic afoot in the dorms. Upon some research, Henry starts to doubt that the sound he is hearing is really a banshee, but his options are either admit he is wrong or double down.
therefore...
Para: Henry corners DEVYN at a Student Union outing and tries to ask him if anything weird has been going on, if they are hearing any weird noises or seeing strange omens. DEVYN is understandably confused, setting off some confusion magic. Henry, not understanding the confusion magic (and affected by it) becomes absolutely convinced that Devyn’s death is being foretold by a banshee. 
therefore...
Para: Henry and ROSE camp out all night and discover nothing, but sometime late into the night, they the sound again. They break into DEVYN’s room only to discover it’s no banshee, but just the music he’s listening to while studying late into the night. Henry is embarrassed.
3 notes · View notes
dollbitch24 · 4 years
Text
A Bowers’ Bet (Part 2)
Thank you so much to everyone for all the love on Part 1! I’m not sure exactly how many, but this story will be a couple of parts! But for now, I hope you enjoy Part 2 :)
Summary: When Henry and Patrick make a twisted pact on who can steal Derry High’s most inexperienced student’s virginity first, they think it will be their most exciting game yet. But what happens when one starts to develop feelings, while the other is determined as ever to win, no matter what or who is standing in their way? 
A Bowers’ Bet Part 1
Juliet didn’t get much sleep that night as she tossed and turned with butterflies dancing around wildly in her stomach. She was nervous to see Henry Bowers the next day at school, knowing he would want an answer to his poorly written proposal. There was a part of her that she didn’t recognize, a side that wanted to so desperately say yes. But then she had to come back down to reality and remember who exactly she was getting herself involved with. Henry was the school's baddest bully, but then again, Henry, the boy who tortured kids for his own sick amusement, wrote her a poem? He was obviously no Robert Frost, but the fact that he made such a thoughtful effort made Juliet feel extremely compelled to want to figure Henry out.
Juliet huffed in frustration from her inconsistency of being able to find a comfortable position as well as her mind that wouldn’t seem to turn off, consuming her with countless possibilities and scenarios of what tomorrow could bring. Finally, she fights against the voices listing off all the reasons why she shouldn’t give Henry the light of day.
Alright, just one date Juliet, she thinks to herself. If it goes bad then you learned a lesson and never go out with him again. Simple as that. 
If only she had followed her intuition.
             ………………………………………………………………
Juliet stands at her locker, trying to think about anything else other than the inevitable interaction she will have to face with Henry today. She forces her mind to drift to other thoughts like what she’s going to get her best friend Jennifer for her birthday, or future assignments she wants to get a head start on, or maybe buying that jean jacket she saw in the shop downtown that’s placed in the front window.
All too soon, she slams her locker shut and Patrick is standing there, causing her shoulders to jump as she places her hand over her heart.
“Boo,” he flatly remarks, his smile growing wider as he knows he scared her.
“Ha-ha very funny Patrick,” she smiles while rolling her eyes a bit, turning around briskly to walk away from him. That is until a strong hand catches her wrist, preventing her.
“SO,” he states rather loudly, “I hear you have a little date with Bowers.”
Juliet was a bit confused since she didn’t necessarily give Henry a definite answer yet. However, little did she know, Henry couldn’t stifle his smugness for long before he bragged to his friends and lied, saying she had already said yes. Henry couldn’t wait to boast to Patrick about him being ahead of the game, however, it won't be too much longer until he painfully regrets that decision.
“He did ask me, yes,” Juliet answers, not wanting to give him too much information.
“Let me get this straight kitten. You turn me down because of my so called “reputation,” but want to go and fuck around with someone like Bowers? Did you hit your cute little head since the last time we talked?”
Juliet hated to admit it to herself, but Patrick actually kind of had a point. Were Henry and Patrick really so different? Patrick noticed the uncertainty in her eyes, realizing he’s starting to get through to her a little bit.
“The guy who beat up a kid so bad they had to go to the hospital,” Patrick states, staring off into space as if he’s in deep thought recalling past events. “The guy who tried to shoot a poor stray cat. The guy who carved his name using a knife into Ben Hanscom’s porky stomach till he was dripping blood.”
Juliet’s eyes widen, becoming horrified by the details of Henry’s severe cruelty that she was completely unaware of.
“I-uhm, I....” Juliet was at a loss for words.
“Bowers, man,” Patrick chuckles, interrupting her while he props his elbow up against the lockers. “He’s fucked up. I’ve done some wild shit in my lifetime, but him? Shit, Bowers makes me look like a fucking saint. I mean you should of heard the way he was talking about you last night. But oh well. I’m sure he’ll go easy on you.” Patrick immediately turns his back on her, about to walk away. He doesn’t even take one step before Juliet calls out to him.
“Patrick wait!”
He grins and softly titters to himself before turning around, changing his expression from coniving to concerned.
“What did he say about me?” 
Patrick’s plan worked, luring Juliet right where he wanted her. He was having trouble holding back his usual wide, eerie smirk.
“Geez, I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news or anything,” Patrick innocently shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets.
“Can you tell me? Please,” Juliet begs, not realizing how much Patrick loved hearing the word fall from her lips.
"If you insist,” he huffs in fake disappointment, trying to act as if he wasn’t beaming with pure joy. “He just kept going on and on about how excited he was to get you alone so he could have his way with you.”
“What did he say ...exactly?”
“I believe some of his exact words were, “‘She looks like she has a good mouth to fuck,’ and ‘I bet I can get her to act like a whore,’ and uhm,” Patrick clears his throat, beckoning with his pointer and middle finger for her to come a bit closer as if this last part was top secret. “He said he thinks you’ll be easy because, you know, you’re a virgin and all.”
“He really said all of that?” Juliet asks astonished, her eyes like a puppy dog’s.
He nods his head in confirmation. “I know,” he scoffs. “What a pig right?” 
Juliet stares down at the tile floor, hating herself for being so naive that she can’t even stare Patrick in the eye. She glances up and from behind Patrick’s shoulder, she sees Henry from afar. He must have spotted them as well because Henry makes direct eye contact with Juliet and begins heading towards them. Juliet sets into immediate panic mode.
“Look Patrick,” Juliet rushes, her eyes moving frantically between Patrick and Henry. “I appreciate you telling me all of this, but right now I have to go.”
Juliet darts down the opposite end of the hallway before Patrick could even get a syllable out, wanting now more than ever to avoid Henry like the plague.
              ........................................................................................
The school day was coming to an end and Juliet had managed to stay clear of Henry and his gang the whole afternoon. It was Thursday, meaning Juliet had to stay after to tutor Eddie in the library. As much as she adored Eddie and didn’t mind helping him, she just wanted to go straight home after this disappointing day.
Luckily after a bit of time, he seemed to be catching on quickly, understanding the material better than he did last week. He barely needed her help with his homework, making Juliet feel happy for him as well as somewhat relieved that their session didn’t have to last as long as usual.
“I’m so proud of you, you’re doing so well! You’ve totally got this test in the bag,”Juliet encourages, closing the textbook shut as she starts to gather her belongings. There was a moment of silence before she suddenly hears Eddie’s shaky voice ask, “Uhh Juliet, has Henry Bowers done anything to you lately?”
Juliet’s actions come to a halt when she turns to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed.
“No Eddie. Why do you ask?”
“Well yesterday he cornered me in the boy’s bathroom just to force me to tell him what I knew about you. I only told him you like books and shit so it would prevent him from drowning me in contaminated toilet water.”
Juliet sat there, her thoughts scattered all over the place. 
“Oh,” she answers, sounding somewhat confused, but trying to be nonchalant. The last thing she needed was for poor Eddie to think something was going on between his bully and her. “Well I appreciate you letting me know that Eds. Don’t worry about it, Henry is always seeking trouble from somewhere.”
“I know. That’s why I thought I’d tell you. So you can keep your guard up.”
It’s like Eddie is giving Juliet an indirect warning as to what the two boys were plotting even though he actually had no idea what they were up to. Juliet may have her guard up now, but it’s only a short amount of time before she drops it. And once its down, she will have no way of being able to put it back up.
As she walks out the library doors, she feels like the world is playing some sort of sick joke on her when Henry is leaned against the wall, waiting for her.
“Henry.” Juliet freezes. “What are you doing here?”
“Detention,” he simply shrugs since it’s a usual occurrence for him. “So what, you tryna hide from me?”
“No!” she lies defensively. “Definitely not.” The butterflies from last night begin to flutter again in the pit of her stomach, but this time not in the good way.
“Well you got the note right?”
Juliet nods before Henry continues and asks, “So how ‘bout it? Tomorrow night?”
“Henry, why do you want to go out with me?” Juliet blurts, not even able to think about the words before they tumble out of her mouth. She crosses her arms, giving Henry a peeved expression. This makes Henry start to chuckle. “What do you mean babe?” 
“Why did you write me that note? Why are you asking people about me? Why do you suddenly want to go on a date?” she questions rapidly, causing Henry to laugh at her, making Juliet even more angry.
“What do you think I’m planning to do, kill you? It’s just a fucking date, why are you acting so crazy?” Henry sneers, using his most common defense mechanism, knowing he was up to no good, but trying to play it off as if she was the one who was being cynical. 
“Oh why am I acting crazy?” Juliet asks in a sarcastic tone. “Well let’s see, maybe it’s because you’re going around telling your friends that you think I’ll be easy and that I’ll blow you on the first date.” 
“Jesus Christ Juliet, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she retaliates, her right eyebrow quirked up.
And oh was Henry very familiar about what Juliet claimed she heard. His mind briefly goes back to last night with the gang as they were all hanging out in Vic’s basement, talking about her. Fucking Patrick. He should have known that Hockstetter plays one way and one way only; dirty.
“It’s Patrick isn’t it? He got into your head. Why the hell would you believe anything he says?”
“Why should I believe you?” Juliet insists, staring so hard into his eyes that he couldn’t believe the girl he thought was timid was pure fire.
“Look Juliet, just hang out with me once so I can prove to you that whatever Patrick said is complete bullshit.”
Juliet shakes her head, hating and despising how much she wanted to give him a chance.
“I’m asking you to trust me. Please?” he persists, grabbing her hand and holding it in a surprisingly delicate way. There’s never been a time that Henry has ever begged someone in his life, but as much as he loathed it, he knew he’d get ahead by playing the good guy type. He could tell by the look on her face that she was giving into him. After a few seconds, Juliet proves him right when she finally caves. 
“Fine,” she snaps, slipping her hand out of his grip.
Henry felt a sudden rush of relief, knowing that the ball has been placed back in his court. 
“There’s a showing of Nightmare on Elm Street I thought we could go see.”
"That actually sounds fun,” Juliet admits, peering up at Henry with those long lashes that makes him want to do unspeakable things to her. 
“The movie is at eight. I thought I could come get you and we can walk there. It’s not far.”
Usually Henry would use Belch and his Trans Am along with the other goons to have as a way of transportation, but Henry was adamant about the whole night having Juliet to himself, that way Patrick had no way of sabotaging things again. He also knew that Juliet is the kind of girl that wasn’t going to just go over his house and fuck around. He actually had to treat her with respect and take her out on a real date first.
“That sounds perfect, but is there any way you can wait for me a house or two down from mine? My mom, she-”
“Let me guess? Won’t approve?” Henry interjects. It was moments like this that Juliet truly despised how judgmental her mother could be. Her silence was proof that what Henry suspected was right.
“It’s cool. I know I ain’t the kinda guy girls like to take home to mom.” Henry begins to chuckle, “Or dad.”
“Hmm, I wonder why.” Juliet looks up to the ceiling, biting down on her lip before glancing back down to Henry, giving him a cheeky grin. Henry doesn’t know what it is, but her innocent yet sassy attitude was turning him on more and more. She wasn’t afraid to confront him or tell him off, which was actually a turn on for Henry since he isn’t used to people defying him whatsoever.
“Looks like Derry’s smartest student has a mouth to match,” he teases, starting to slowly stroll closer to her. She can see the seductive way he’s analyzing her, making Juliet take tiny steps back before she smiles and says, “Looks like Derry’s biggest bully isn’t so scary after all.”
“You don’t want to test me there baby doll,” Henry smirks, licking his lips as continues inching closer to her.
“I don’t know,” Juliet hums, “Tests are sort of my thing,” she responds confidently, sticking her nose up in a joking way. However at this point, Henry has her body pressed up against the lockers with his hand propped up near the side of her face. 
Henry releases a breathy snicker, feeling like she was being a tease. He wanted to grab her ass, her chest, something. But he knew he had to control himself with Juliet and be patient. 
“Well this is one test I’d hate to fail, so I guess for my own sake I better walk away before I start to ....slip up,” Henry simpers, moving his face close to hers.
Juliet laughs, but it truly was one of the most beautiful sounds he has ever heard. “See you tomorrow Henry,” she smiles, but it was her usual one that was laced with innocence and genuine kindness. She moves past him as he just stands there, feeling over the moon already even though he hasn’t even gone on the actual date with her yet. Juliet may be falling for Henry’s game, but Henry however, is falling hard for her, and the worst part is that he doesn’t even know it yet.
           ……………............................................................................
Juliet exits her house and starts to walk down the sidewalk, enjoying the crisp, cool, night air that was hitting her face. She told her mother that Jennifer was having a girls night which she surprisingly believed with no questions asked. Her parents seemed to be preoccupied with having dinner plans with her dad’s snobby business partners, leaving Juliet to have one less thing to worry about.
She suddenly spots Henry in the distance standing down near the stop sign at the corner. He’s wearing dark, ripped jeans with his typical black boots and an almost navy blue muscle shirt that looked extremely good on him. His biceps were prominent, making Juliet shamefully ogle at them for a minute before he turns around slightly and sees her walking towards him. As a nervous habit, Juliet presses her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She decided on a plain white, square neck, sundress that had slightly puffy sleeves. 
Henry whistles at her, making Juliet blush profusely. “I don’t know how you expect me to stay on my best behavior tonight lookin’ like that.”
“Oh c’mon, l think you can manage yourself for a good two hours,” she smirks as they begin to walk together side by side. 
“Maybe. But what about after?”
“After?”
“Well yeah after the movies, you know, I figured we can hang out some more.”
Juliet was certainly not planning for an after. She was planning for solely a movie and a straight walk home. 
“Don’t look so worried,” Henry chuckles. “Still think I’m going to murder you or somethin’?"
“I mean you actually have the perfect opportunity to since my family and friends have zero idea I’m hanging out with you right now,” Juliet teases, making Henry’s heart beat faster and faster.
“Well since you put it that way...” Henry smirks, suddenly grabbing Juliet by the waist, hoisting her up over his shoulder as she lets out a small shriek. Her legs kick back and forth as he begins to run while she’s laughing hysterically. It’s only for a short moment until he eventually stops and gently places her back on the pavement as she holds onto his arms for stability. But that’s when they look up at each other, both slightly out of breath, their faces close as they glance down at each other’s lips. Henry starts to lean in, thinking this was his chance, however, Juliet tenses up. She bows her head down a bit, nervously studying the ground. 
“Hey,” Henry says before grabbing her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. “You’re safe with me alright? I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Okay,” Juliet responds, giving him a small, closed mouth smile.
Henry started to feel something he couldn’t quite decipher. Guilt? Regret? Whatever it is, he pushes back the unfamiliar feeling aside, knowing that Juliet is nothing more than just a stupid bet. A stupid bet that he plans on winning.
They eventually make it to the theater and walk inside as Henry opens the door for her. Once they reach the counter, Henry tells the worker he’ll have two tickets for A Nightmare on Elm Street while Juliet reaches down in her pocket to grab her money. When she’s about to hand it over, she’s shocked to see Henry has already beaten her to the punch.
“Henry I had money, you really didn’t have to do that.”
“Don’t stress baby, I got it,” he winks, grabbing her hand as he leads them to the right theater. Juliet would never know that he had only gotten that money by stealing it from a couple of kids at school.
Once inside, Henry aims for seats that weren’t in the far back since it has just been made clear she isn’t the type who’s going to want to make out just yet, but he didn’t want to sit too close to the front either. He landed on two seats that were a good in between right in the middle. 
The movie was supposed to start in exactly four minutes. Henry felt like everything was going according to plan. Not only did Juliet look as hot as ever, but she was eating out of the palm of his hands. Right as he started to think nothing could possibly go wrong, the worst of the worst comes crashing down on him.
“Henry,” Juliet leans into him whispering, “I didn’t know your friends were coming.”
“What are you talking about my friends aren’t-” and as soon as he looks over towards the entrance, there they were. Vic, Belch, and of course Patrick.
Henry shuts his eyes briefly, clearly fuming. “Those mother fuckers,” he mutters under his breath.
“It looks like they’re coming over to us,” Juliet observes, trying not to make her stare obvious even though it was hard since they were all collectively getting closer and closer.
“I didn’t invite them Juliet, I swear. I have no idea how they found out.”
“Well they knew we were going on a date didn’t they?”
“Yeah,” Henry snaps. “But I didn’t want them knowing where.” As soon as the words rushed out of Henry’s mouth, he knew he fucked up.
“Why?”
As his mind scrambled for some sort of logical lie, his buddies came and interrupted just in time, preventing him from having to even answer the question. 
“Well lookie here boys. It’s Romeo and Juliet,” Patrick sneers with his cheshire grin before throwing a handful of popcorn at Henry as Vic and Belch snort and chuckle beside him. Patrick plops his lanky figure in the seat next to Juliet while Belch takes the seat right next to Henry and Vic in the aisle seat. 
“No fucking way, you assholes go find another place to sit,” Henry demands, trying his best to act calm for Juliet’s sake, but the irritation dripping from his voice wasn’t helping.
Belch searches the theater to see what other seat options there were. “Sorry buddy,” Belch shrugs carelessly while munching down on some popcorn. “It looks like it’s a full house.”
The theater is packed and there are only seven seats open at this point, but they are all completely separated from one another. Juliet could tell Henry was livid by the way his fists were clenched laying on the arm rests and how his nostrils flared. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but there was nothing she could do to ease his anger at that moment.
“Want a taste?”
Juliet suddenly hears Patrick’s voice and turns to him, worried about what he was insinuating with Henry sitting right there.
“What?” Juliet asks in a somewhat mortified tone.
“Of my drink?” Patrick asks holding up the giant cup, looking at her as if she’s stupid. 
“Oh,” Juliet lets out a half- hearted chuckle. “No. Thank you.”
Patrick licks his lips, grinning mischievously at her. He relished how he could play with her mind and make Juliet question herself. As if right on time, the theater suddenly goes dark as the movie finally begins on the screen. Juliet enjoyed the slight adrenaline she got when watching scary movies, but it didn’t mean she never needed to cover her eyes and watch some parts through her fingers.
Patrick however, seemed to be enjoying the horror as he laughed at the gore and terror, grinning from ear to ear. The scene comes on in the movie where Glen is fast asleep, lying on his bed with headphones over his ears. Juliet couldn’t help herself when she jumps slightly once the dreadful music starts to play as Freddy’s claws appear, sucking Glen into the mattress.
Henry laughs quietly at her reaction, clearly amused. He leans over to her and asks, “You good?”
She nods with a cute grin, hating how even though she knew something was about to happen, it still made her tremble. Even though Henry is enjoying the movie, he couldn’t stop thinking about how Patrick was just one seat away from him. He hated him so much that he wished Freddy could somehow come through the screen and swallow Patrick in like he did to Glen. He still had no idea how he found out that they were even there.
Enough is enough, he thought. Henry decided he isn’t going to put up with Patrick’s shit any longer. If he wanted to come see a show, he was about to give him one.
Henry places his hand on Juliet’s thigh, hiking her dress up a bit while his thumb rubs back and forth on her bare skin. Patrick notices this and begins to feel absolutely infuriated. He becomes even more enraged when Juliet snuggles into Henry a bit, interlocking her arm with his.
It didn’t take long for Patrick to act fast. He pretends to grab his drink when he purposely knocks it over, spilling the red liquid all over Juliet’s lap. She completely jolts when she feels the ice cold, sticky substance dripping down her bare legs, the lower half of her white dress completely drenched. Juliet stares at the ice cubes laying on her lap, not even comprehending what just happened for a few seconds.
“Oops,” Patrick says with zero emotion, satisfied that he didn’t have to endure watching Henry touch what’s his any longer.
“What the fuck Hockstetter?” Henry sharply whispers, staring down at the mess he had caused.
“It’s okay, it was just an accident,” Juliet assures, not wanting the two boys to cause a commotion in the middle of the movie. She could care less that her dress is ruined, she just wanted to immediately get herself cleaned up without making a scene and disrupting everyone else in the theater.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom really quick okay? I’ll be right back,” Juliet states in a hushed tone to Henry.
“Do you need me to come with you?”
Juliet shakes her head at him and gets up quietly. She carefully tip toes passed Henry, Belch, and Vic and then quickly exits out the door.
Once Juliet is in the bathroom and in the actual light, she sees that the drink got all over her socks and high tops as well. Juliet drenches some paper towels in water, doing her best at getting what she could out of her dress. She internally laughs at herself when she looks in the mirror, seeing the huge glob of red that only turned into a slight pink. The stickiness on her hands and legs made her feel gross, causing her to immediately wipe the soda’s remnants off. After constant scrubbing and fifty-two paper towels later, Juliet realizes that this was as good as it’s going to get.
When she walks out into the lobby, she spots Devin Mccalister, Mark Swanson, Derrick Mckinley, and Jason Montgomery all huddled near the back corner. They were arrogant tyrants disguised as the popular football jocks of Derry High. She never understood why The Bowers Gang were notorious for being bullies, but because they wore a sport’s jersey, they were seen as royalty.
“Well, well, well, look who we’ve got here boys,” Derrick calls out, each of them now giving her their undivided attention.
“Juliet,” Jason sings, checking her out with no shame before laughing. “What happened? Time of the month come early?” This causes his friends to bust out in a fit of laughter at the expense of Juliet’s embarrassment as they all walk closer to her.
 “No,” Juliet responds flatly, having a hard time keeping eye contact. “It’s just soda.”
She begins to turn around to head back to the theater before Jason rushes and grabs her by the forearm, jerking her back. “Hey, where do you think you’re runnin’ off to?”
They each begin to huddle around her, shutting her in.
“You should ditch this place and come hang with us. We’re bored,” Devin offers while he gazes down at her chest.
“Yeah I can see that,” Juliet mutters, wishing she could just shrink and disappear.
“Can you?” Jason asks before snatching Juliet’s glasses off her face.
“Stop it Jason, that’s not funny,” Juliet exclaims, reaching out to try and grab them back, but failing miserably. “Please you guys, give them back,” she begs. They instead began to snicker and laugh at her multiple attempts of trying to pry the glasses out of each of their hands since they were tossing them back and forth to one another. Juliet obviously couldn’t see as well without them, making the boys even more amused. That is, until a certain voice causes their actions to come to a sudden halt. 
“What’s going on here,” Patrick interrupts, his eyes narrowed and pierced with craze as he slowly strides out of the darkness over to them with his hips slightly jutted out and his hands in his pockets.
The jocks may be seen as intimidating and tough to most, but one thing was for certain; they were all mentally scared shitless of Patrick. Even if they were cocky enough to think that they could beat him up physically, they knew that he was a person capable of far worse things.
“Nothin’, we were just messin’ around,” Jason retorts, broadening his shoulders a bit, trying his best to be intimidating. Patrick chuckles at his attempt, taking a few more strides before he approaches Jason, standing dangerously close to him when he suddenly takes his pocket knife out and holds it right below Jason’s eyebrow.
“There’s nothing more I’d love to do to you right now then cut out your eye sockets and shove them so far down your throat, you’ll be seeing out your ass.” Patrick moves the knife’s sharp point close enough to where it’s almost touching the white part of Jason’s eyeball, causing him to go pale. 
“Oh, but daddy wouldn’t like that would he?” Patrick taunts in a sarcastic tone. “I mean, how could his son play the big game next week with no way of seeing that football being thrown towards his stupid fucking face?”
Jason is shaking like a leaf at this point as his friends are standing their frozen like statues, too petfriefied to even move.
“Look man, I’m sorry. Just take it easy and put the knife down will ya?” Jason whimpers, his macho facade completely thrown out the window.
Just as Juliet was about to intervene and try to calm Patrick down, he starts to snicker and pulls the knife away from Jason, leering at his panicked expression. “Awh,” Patrick mocks in a teasing voice, frowning his lips down in a fake pout. “Don’t be so serious Montgomery. I was only messin’ around.” 
Jason looks embarrassed and angry, yet still very afraid all at the same time. His face was beat red from wanting to punch Patrick in the face, but knowing that he couldn’t. He reaches his shaky hands out to return Juliet’s glasses to Patrick before slowly backing away. A piercing stare towards Patrick was all he could muster, although if looks could kill, both boys would be dead right now. His friends follow suit until they turn their backs, walking quicker than usual out of the theater.
Juliet is shook up about what she just witnessed as she continues to stand there not moving. “That was…..intense,” she gapes, appearing slightly apprehensive. Patrick feels worried for a second that he went a little too far in front of her until he hears a small giggle. “But also kind of amazing.” She slaps her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her smirk because she felt guilty for finding such a violent altercation humorous.
Patrick chuckles at her adorable reaction before taking a few steps in her direction. He unfolds the glasses and brushes a few strands of her hair away before putting them back on her face.
“Beautiful,” he simply observes with a slight grin. Juliet remains motionless as his hand reaches out to caress her cheek, his thumb gently swiping across her bottom lip. 
“W-We should head back,” Juliet stutters, moving her face to the side, away from Patrick’s touch.
Patricks knows that no matter what he says, no matter what he does, she will not give into his enticement just yet. She was in the middle of a date with Henry right now, she wouldn’t be ballsy enough, but he recognized that glint in her eye and the way she stumbled. He knew that whether she wanted to come to terms with it or not, there was something behind those hazel eyes that he could tell felt tempted. Patrick has had his exact plan sought out from the start. He just has to wait until something certain happens until he can fully execute it, but this made him all the more excited.
"You ignored the little chat we had this morning,” Patrick states, studying her face. 
“Me and Henry talked it out,” Juliet briefly explains, about to turn around until Patrick says, “Let me guess. He told you not to trust me.”
Juliet started to feel a bit frazzled. She didn’t want to tell Patrick that Henry told her not to believe him and pin the two friends against one another and cause issues.
“N-Not exactly, he uhm, he told me-”
“You’re an awful liar,” Patrick interrupts, smirking before he says, “Henry is a much better one.”
Juliet furrows her eyebrows in an annoyed manner, hating how Patrick kept trying to make her feel like she was being stupid for giving Henry a chance. She was appreciative of Patrick, knowing what those dumb jocks could have done if he hadn’t shown up, but it wasn’t hard to notice that Patrick can be manipulative. She couldn’t let him toy with her head again. Juliet stares at him for a brief moment, biting down on her tongue before she decides it’s best if she says nothing at all in return. She simply turns her back on him and heads inside the theater.
Henry’s face was set in a scowl, but appeared somewhat relieved once he saw Juliet coming back.
As soon as she sat down, Henry moved in closer. “What took so long?”
“I’ll tell you later, it’s kind of a long story,” Juliet whispers back.
Henry sat there, his mind thinking about all the horrendous possibilities that could have happened between Patrick and Juliet outside that theater. He was boiling with rage, causing him to not talk or touch Juliet again for the remainder of the movie.
Henry has his arm draped over Juliet’s shoulder when they walk out into the parking lot as Patrick lingers closely behind. Vic and Belch were staggering near them, still preoccupied with continuing their popcorn fight. They stroll together until they are all standing in front of Belch’s Trans Am. 
“I’m going to fucking kill them. All of them, one by one I swear to god,” Henry fumes in regards to Juliet’s brief rundown about what occurred with Jason and his friends earlier.
“Trust me Henry they aren’t worth it. Although I do wish you could have seen Jason’s face. It was so red,” Juliet laughs. 
“Yeah, well that fucker’s face is going to turn purple on Monday,” Henry responds harshly, making Juliet go silent. Henry begins to notice the way Patrick is intently eyeing Juliet, which reminds him that he needs to get her out of here before this night goes downhill. “We’re gonna take off,” he states flatly to his friends as he steers Juliet away, using his hand around her shoulder as an advantage. 
“What’s the rush Bowers?” Patrick smirks at Henry, wanting to get under his skin.
“I got to get her home,” Henry grumbles while turning around, gesturing his head towards Juliet. She pulls her wrist up to glance at her watch, reading the time that says 10:02pm.
“My curfew isn’t until midnight, so if you want to hang out with them we can,” Juliet quietly offers to Henry, trying to appease him. However, Juliet was unknowingly ruining what he had planned.
“Great!” Patrick beams, hearing Juliet’s hushed offer before opening Belch’s backseat. “Hop in.”
Juliet glances up at Henry, trying to see if she can read his mind on whether he actually wants to join them or not. Juliet would much rather spend the rest of the night alone with Henry, but this was his gang and she didn’t want Henry to feel like she didn’t want to be around his friends.
“If you shit heads haven't noticed yet, we’re on a date. I’ll catch you guys later.” Henry stares Patrick down in a somewhat hostile way, only making Patrick more entertained. Juliet gives a meek wave goodbye to all of the boys before they turn around and start to walk away again. 
“You two have a safe night now,” Patrick calls out in a taunting way, making Juliet feel like those words are being directed at her. Henry holds her closer and for some reason, she felt okay.
Henry didn’t know why he felt so nervous. He hated how this girl made him feel emotions he isn’t accustomed to dealing with. At this point, they weren’t too far away from Juliet’s house, making him even more anxious. She becomes caught off guard when Henry’s feet that were walking next to her come to a complete stop.
“There’s uhm, there’s a place I'd like to take you,” Henry utters, his palms slightly sweating.
“Okay,” Juliet smiles. “Where?”
“It’s in the woods,” he states, not wanting to reveal the exact destination quite yet.
“In the woods,” Juliet slowly repeats, laughing a little about Henry’s lack of detail, making his response sound highly suspicious. 
“Fuck, I know how sketch that sounds, but I swear, you just gotta trust me.”
Juliet felt a bit hesitant on saying yes, but surprisingly enough, trusting him has gone pretty well so far.
“Lead the way,” Juliet grins, gesturing her hand out to him.
It was at least ten minutes of walking and the sound of leaves crunching beneath their feet before Juliet asks, “Okay I know we were kidding around earlier, but are you sure you’re not luring me out here to kill me? Because honestly, at this point, I would deserve it considering I ignored all the obvious signs.”
Henry chuckles, wafting a long, thin branch out of his way. “We’re literally almost there.”
After about another minute or two, a small and somewhat wonky, wooden treehouse comes into view. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it had a certain character to it that Juliet found appealing.
“This is it,” Henry shrugs, scratching his head as he nervously glances at the ground and then back at Juliet, waiting for her reaction.
“Oh my gosh,” Juliet mutters. “Did you build this?”
Henry nods, making Juliet’s eyes widen. “Wow,” she gasps. “Henry this is absolutely incredible.”
Henry gulps, having never heard such a compliment from anybody in his life before he asks, “Wanna take a look inside?”
Juliet shakes her head in an excited way which makes Henry grab her hand. He lets her go up the creaky ladder first before he follows right after her. The inside was small, but had some blankets laid out and wrinkled metal band posters taped to the walls. 
“It ain’t much,” Henry says. “But it’s a place I like to come to where I can get some peace and quiet.”
“Are you crazy? I love it. Do you know how much skill you have to build something like this?” Juliet asks, still looking around and analyzing every corner and crack of the tiny wooden house in amazement. Henry genuinely wasn’t expecting a rich girl like Juliet to think much of it, but like in many ways, Juliet proved him wrong. Henry sits down near the entrance so his feet can prop up on the ladder. Juliet does the same beside him, except her tiny white sneakers are dangling in the air.
The only noise that can be heard is the soft hum of the bugs and the trees rustling together from the chilly night air. Juliet’s eyes are staring up at the stars, but Henry can’t seem to take his eyes off her. He has never felt more at peace in his life than in this moment.
“Henry,” she says, snapping him out of his trance. She peels her eyes off the sky and looks at him. “What scares you the most?”
The question was not only unexpected, but quite difficult for Henry to answer. Henry’s mind tries to think of something, anything, but it was like his brain went totally blank. He wasn’t used to people asking him personal questions. “Uhm...I don’t really know. I mean shit don’t scare me much, but I guess if I had to choose somethin’ it’d be...uhm.... I guess like what my future is goin’ to be in this shit town after high school. I’m afraid I’m goin’ to end up alone and be exactly like my old man.”
“You don’t like your dad?”
“It’s not that I don’t like him,” Henry huffs. “I fucking hate his guts Juliet. He’s the biggest piece of shit I know. He’s the main reason I built this in the first place, so I could get away somehow when I needed to.”
This confession made Juliet feel heart broken. She didn’t want to press and ask too many questions, but it was clear that Henry’s home didn’t feel safe for him. Juliet interlocks her fingers with his.“You don’t deserve that. I know saying sorry won’t fix anything and you at least have here to come to, but if things ever get bad, my house is always open. Well I should say my bedroom window is,” Juliet smirks, bumping her shoulder lightly with his, making Henry chuckle. “But seriously, I can’t imagine how awful it must be to not feel loved by your dad, but it doesn’t mean you’re incapable of being loved by anybody else.”
Henry appreciated that she wasn’t pitying him or making him feel like he was a lost cause. This girl that he hasn’t even known a full week cared so much about his well being that she would be willing to take the risk of offering her room as a place to stay when times got tough. He ponders over what she just said before she continues on and says, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly thankful for my parents. They want what’s best for me, but my mom, she is constantly worried about what every single person thinks. Whether it’s my clothes or hair or grades or friends, she judges and critiques every little thing I do. I feel I can just never win with her, like nothing I ever do is good enough.”
Henry stares at her, shocked at how much they were opening up to each other, but how good it truly felt.
“Your mom must be fucking crazy,” Henry admits. “You’re beautiful and fucking smart as hell and have so much going for you.”
Juliet giggles, smiling at the boy who was making her cheeks flush.
“Well I appreciate that. But it sounds like your dad must be pretty crazy too if he doesn’t realize what an amazing and incredibly talented son he's got,” Juliet responds, gazing at him. Henry could swear he felt his heart completely stop.
He has never in his life had somebody who felt like they genuinely thought he mattered and was important. He stares intently at her, and not even a second passes before Henry grabs her neck, crushing her lips unto his. He moves his hands so they’re cradling both her cheeks, liking the sort of control it gives him. The kiss is slow and innocent until Henry slips his tongue into her mouth. Juliet was petrified for this moment, but she couldn’t believe how good kissing Henry Bowers felt. 
He gives her bottom lip a slight tug with his teeth as he delves his hot tongue deeper into her mouth, moving his hand down to grope her chest. Juliet hated how much she didn’t want him to stop. She breaks away from the kiss, feeling like she needed a breath. Henry moves down and begins attacking her neck as he tries to pull the shoulder of her dress down to expose her bra. He grabs her hand and moves it on top of his throbbing hard on that lies underneath his jeans.
“You feel what you do to me baby,” he rasps in her ear before biting slightly down on her earlobe.
“Henry,” Juliet whispers, but it comes out as more of a soft moan.
“Now how about you let me feel what I do to you,” Henry utters, his rough, calloused hand moving up Juliet’s smooth thigh. His hand reaches under her dress when he begins teasing the waistband of her underwear with his fingers. She quickly grabs his hand to stop him, making Henry seize what he’s doing.
“I’m sorry Henry, but I...I think we should take things slow,” Juliet murmurs, feeling embarrassed.
Henry wasn’t used to girls he’s been with not wanting to move fast. He was used to them begging him for any sort of pleasure he was willing to give. But Juliet was different.
“It’s alright, it’s probably almost midnight anyways, we should start to head back.”
Juliet couldn’t quite decipher Henry’s tone as he begins to run his hand through his hair before he pushes himself off the tree house, his feet hitting the ground with a quiet thump. His mood shifted quickly as if he flipped some sort of switch. She decides to not over think it and starts to cautiously climb down the ladder. Juliet suddenly hears a slight rustling in the bushes.
“Did you hear that?”
“No? Hear what?”
“It sounded like there was something moving over there,” Juliet points over to her right.
“It was probably a rabbit or somethin’. There’s always critters runnin’ around here. Come on this way.” 
The walk out of the woods was quiet which made Juliet think Henry has to be annoyed at her. She wanted Henry to touch her, but she felt like she wasn’t quite ready to go too far and offer that personal part of herself to him just yet. Meanwhile Henry was more silent than usual because guilt started to set into the pit of his stomach. He didn’t expect to feel this way towards her. He actually didn’t know what he was even feeling and that made him even more mad. They make it back to the red stop sign where Henry waited for her at the beginning of the night. The glow from the street light loomed over them.
"I’m sorry about earlier,” Juliet speaks up. “I wanted to. I honestly just got nervous. I haven’t you know-uhm, I-I havent done anything like that yet.” Juliet had a hard time confessing her inexperience to the boy who has been with countless of girls.
“I understand,” Henry assures, wanting nothing more than for Juliet to feel comfortable around him. “You’re safe with me remember? I’m not goin’ to ever make you do somethin’ you don’t want to.”
This made Juliet feel at ease. “I know,” she smiles. “I had a good time with you tonight. I’m happy I decided to come.”
“I’m sorry what was that?” Henry asks sarcastically, a smirk on his face as he pulls her in playfully by her waist.
“Okay, okay fine! The almighty Henry Bowers proved me wrong,” Juliet giggles, loving the warmth Henry’s embrace gave.
“Damn right I did,” Henry utters before leaning in to give her one final kiss. Henry felt no need to be rough or show his dominance. All he wanted was the simplicity of feeling her plush lips on his.
“Bye,” Juliet whispers once she pulls away from him. She grins before turning around to walk back to her house. Henry stood there watching her the entire time until she faded into the darkness.
On his walk home, Henry couldn’t stop the stupid smile that lingered on his face as he reminisced about the night. He knew Juliet was into him as much as he was into her, and that nobody, not even Patrick, could get in the way. Henry thought it over and came to the conclusion that not only was he going to win the bet, but he was also going to win the girl and make Patrick regret the day he ever tried underestimating him. However, Henry was delirious of the raven haired boy that was hiding in the woods the entire time, relishing how Henry and Juliet’s relationship was going exactly how he wanted it to.
209 notes · View notes
Text
Mistakes from the past- Killian Jones/Captain Hook X Fem!Reader
Pairing: Killian Jones/Captain Hook X Fem!Reader
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Warnings: none really
Summary: Killian and the reader were in a relationship before the curse. They split up and when they meet again in storybrooke he finds out he has a daughter.
A/N: This is gonna be my attempt at writing a short series. I’m awful at writing series but I feel like this prompt deserves to be done properly and that requires dividing it into parts. Ps, as I said, I’m not that far into the show, I know he technically has two daughters already but lets assume this story doesn’t take place in that storyline. This is my own plot and storyline so I’m making up shit as I go. As I said with my previous Killian shots, I’m only trying to have fun here so if I say something wrong dont quote me on it, just enjoy the Killian content.
Also, I know the timeline of this storyline (my storyline) won’t correlate with the ouat timeline because if im not mistaken, Killian was in Neverland the majority of time before the curse after Milah died. And he only went to the enchanted forest a little bit before the curse. (I’m probably wrong but that’s what I’ve seen so far) Butttt for this, let’s say there was this year or so where he wasn’t in Neverland roughly about 6 years before the curse happened. So that’s when his relationship with Y/n happened. And this also takes place about a year or so after the curse was broken (around season 2, but not the same storyline ) because that’s around the time Killian got to storybrooke. Just clarifying, I know timelines in ouat tend to be confusing like that.
(you are here), part 2
Tumblr media
The ever so subtle sound of wind blew in through your open window, refreshing your bedroom with the chilly Maine breeze. If it wasn’t for the rays of sunlight that sneaked their way into your bedroom you would’ve sworn it was still dawn as you were so deep into slumber. Though, such bliss was soon cut short by the sound of subtle and short footsteps making it’s way into your bedroom. You felt an extra weight on your bed as the spot next to you sunk with the weight of a small child.
“Mommy wake up!” You heard the giggly voice of your 6 year-old daughter, Anastasia Grace. Exhaling deeply into your pillow, you clutched it in your arm tightly as your muscles clenched before you allowed your muscles to relax again. Upon opening your eyes, you were met with your daughter’s ocean blue eyes. They were so innocent and pure; so intense and full of life. They were nearly as intense as his..
Sighing softly, you brought your body up into a sitting position, allowing the small child to find herself a spot on your lap. Smiling, you ran your fingers through her raven locks as you looked down at her. Pressing a kiss to her small forehead, you carefully moved her off your lap so you could get out of bed.
Stretching your full body, a soft groan escaped your lips as your muscles clenched once again and a yawn left your lips immediately after. “Morning baby. How did my little princess sleep?” You asked your daughter as she climbed out of bed followed you to your bathroom like a lost puppy. Giggling, she followed you in and out of your bathroom and out to your kitchen. You listened to her constant rambling and giggles as she retold the dream she had the previous night. As per every morning, she retold her recurring dream where she met her nameless father and you were all a happy family. Needless to say, she didn’t have what most people called a father figure, sure she had you. You were her mother and father and that was all she needed. But there was this empty void you couldn’t fill no matter how hard you tried. And it truly broke your heart to see her so excitedly talk about a nameless man she knew nothing about and so desperately wanted to know. But that wasn’t entirely your fault, of course it wasn’t. It was his.
Sighing, you tried to shake those thoughts off mind as you looked through the fridge. Well.. It was time to do groceries. Turning around to look at Anastasia, who was patiently sitting on the dining table with a coloring book, you closed the fridge and clapped your hands together, “How about we get some breakfast at granny’s?” A wide, cheeky smile made it’s way to her lips as she nodded excitedly.
“Granny’s it is,” You smiled as you grabbed her tiny hand into yours and led her upstairs to her bedroom, “Go get dressed while I take a quick shower, okay baby?” She nodded quickly and scurried off to her room. You watched as she skipped happily, giggles filling the atmosphere. Despite only being you, you couldn’t be happier to have her in your life, even if the circumstances weren’t the best. And she was your reminder that it should only be you and her. And there was no room for anyone else in your lives.
~~~~~~~~
Upon arriving at Granny’s, you were happy to see that Emma, Mary Margaret and Henry were also having breakfast. Anastasia was quick to run to their booth, letting her presence to be known. “Look who we got here. How’s our little princess doing?” Mary Margaret said with a smile as Anastasia ran to her first. Her and Emma also looked at you, smiling in your direction. You returned the gesture, taking the spot next to Mary Margaret.
“Morning.” You sighed softly, with a little bit of weariness on your tone. Upon noticing such, Emma gestured to Henry.
“Hey kid, why don’t you watch over Annie for a little bit? She hasn’t seen your for a minute.” She gestured to Henry, giving him a look and a half smile he probably understood. Henry happily complied, moving off the booth and grabbing Annie’s hand, leading her outside. Once the minors were far enough, both Emma and Mary Margaret turned to look at you with concerned eyes.
“What is it now Y/N? Did she ask again?” Mary Margaret spoke first. They were both mostly aware of your predicament when it came to Anastasia’s father. They didn’t know who he was exactly, nobody did. You choose to keep it that way for both yours and your daughter’s sake. But they knew just enough to be aware of how delicate the topic was.
Letting out a heavy sigh, you nodded shortly, “Yeah.. She just kept telling me about her dream and how she met him and how happy we all were.. Together.” You chuckled bitterly at that word. He probably had no idea what that word even meant.
“I know we’ve been over this Y/N, but, why don’t you try finding him? I mean its been, well, years, I’m sure if you talked to him now he would reconsider it.” Emma said, with a shrug. You scoffed, shaking your head with an eye roll. That would be the reasonable thing to do for most people. But he wasn’t like most people. With him, that’s the last thing you would ever do.
“You out of all people should know why I don’t want to do that. Did you look for Henry’s dad when you gave birth or when you found Henry again? No. So, for that exact reason you didn’t, I’m not going to.”
“I mean c'mon Y/N. He can’t be that bad, right?” Emma tried to argue. You exchanged looks of disbelief between Emma and Mary Margaret, who seemed to agree with Emma. You chuckled bitterly and shook your head. They had no idea who they were talking about.
“Okay so, take Henry’s dad, then multiply that by a thousand, that’s Anastasia’s father. We don’t need, nor want him in our lives. He would only hurt us. Cause that’s what he does best.” You frowned slightly as you took a sip of the coffee you had order, downing the small taste of bitterness the topic of him left down your throat. They both gave you looks of sympathy. Looks of pity even. “Besides,” You continued, “he’s not even in storybrooke. He wasn’t in the enchanted forest when the curse hit, I know that. And let’s hope for both our sakes, he never steps a foot on this town.”
~~~~~~
Killian stood on the sidewalk, in front of what he assumed was some sort of dinning. He looked around the unfamiliar town, trying to grow accustomed to the unknown land. Though, his attention was drawn into something or more like someone tugging at the end of his leather coat. Upon looking down he was met with a small child. Interesting..
“Yes child? Are you lost?” Killian asked the little girl in front of him with confusion lacing through his tone. He didn’t know much about children, but he did know children didn’t interact with strangers unless they were lost. Perhaps things were differently on this foreign land.. Still, his confusion only grew bigger when she.. smiled? When she smiled at him and shook her head. “Very well, do I know you then? Because I certainly would recall meeting a little girl like you.. And that I don’t.”
“I know you! You’re that man on my mom’s drawer. I remember you!” She exclaimed. Killian’s confusion only grew bigger by the minute. Nothing this child said made any sense to him. He was debating whether he should just walk away and dismiss this whole situation. That seemed like the reasonable thing to do. He, however, chose to humor the young girl. He slowly nodded and he crouched down to meet her intense blue eyes with his own. For a moment there, but only for a brief moment, the look in her eyes reminded him of someone.. But that couldn’t be, of course not..
“Is that so?” Killian made a humming sound, making her nod. “Well, so tell me sweetheart, how exactly am I on your mother’s drawer?”
“In an old picture! You’re with her and you’re wearing funny clothes!” She giggled at the thought then pointed to his own very, peculiar pirate looking attire. “Like those!”
Killian cocked his eyebrow in thought. Who could she possibly be talking about? Surely, it wasn’t someone from Neverland much less the Island he stayed in during the curse.. A certain someone did come to mind at the mention though, but that just couldn’t be.. There was no way.. The chances of her being in storybrooke with a child were little to none.
There was only one way to find out. “What’s your name little girl?”
“Anastasia Grace L/N.” Killian’s eyes grew a bit wide. That last name.. He knew it all to well. But no, that couldn’t be. There were countless amounts of people with that same last name. It could just merely be a coincidence. Right?
Killian took a deep breath and dared to ask the definitive question. “What’s your mother’s name?”
“Y/N L/N.”
Killian’s jaw dropped ten feet under grown and his eyes grew the size of the moon. There was no way. That couldn’t be.. It couldn’t be her.. Out of all people, it had to be her..
Standing up to his full height, Killian ran a hand through his raven hair and sighed exasperatedly. Well.. There was only one thing he could do at that point.
“Can you take me to your mother? There’s an important matter I need to discuss with her.” With a small giggle, Anastasia nodded and grabbed his hand. Hesitantly, Killian took her tiny hand into his and allowed her to lead him inside the dining. There he saw someone he thought he would never have the luck to see again.
“Y/N.”
Part 2
《As I said this is the first part of what will be a short series. Know that I had to rewrite the second half of this one three times because it wouldn’t save properly. This last one didn’t turned out exactly how I wanted to, but I really hope you enjoyed it. Part 2 will be up in a few days at most》
275 notes · View notes
kneworder · 4 years
Text
I finally got to the infamous ‘I mourned the loss of six’ conversation from season 7 and was instantly filled with rage so here’s my attempt at elongating that conversation to make it make sense. Episode tag to s07e02 Proof. || Read on AO3 | read on Fanfiction.net
why can’t we be ourselves like we were yesterday?
“Look, Reid, I know you're mad at us because we didn't tell you what really happened, and I understand that. But I promise you, we had no choice. You mourned the loss of a friend. I mourned the loss of six. This whole thing gave me an ulcer. Please don't give me another one.”
It takes a while for him to respond, after she says her piece. She almost starts to speak again, the words “Are you gonna go to Rossi’s tomorrow?” on the tip of her tongue, but something about his demeanor gives her pause. They’re not supposed to profile each other, but it’s hard to ignore the undoubtedly painful clench of his jaw. She starts to think that he’s going to stay quiet, just ignore her attempts at patching things up until she goes away. She’s thinking about admitting defeat and doing just that when he finally opens his mouth.
“In those months after… after Georgia,” he starts, voice so measured it barely breaks, “I was… pretty awful to you.” His nose twitches. “Do you know why?”
Emily freezes. He’s never spoken about this before, not to her, and now seems like a rather abrupt time to start. She sits up, tosses her hair behind her shoulder, and tries to ignore the sudden feeling that she’s in out of her depth. “You’d just gone through a major trauma,” she says, carefully avoiding the obvious. “I never held it against you.”
He nods, but doesn’t look up. “And I’m grateful for that. But you know what I mean. It’s kind of an open secret here, isn’t it?”
Emily bites her lip. “Reid--”
“You know, no one ever asked?” He puts the book down, finally meeting her stare, and wow, she really wishes he was still avoiding her gaze, because the sheer hurt in his eyes hits her harder than a punch to the gut. When he continues, it’s in a harsh whisper. “I was-- I was struggling, for so long, and everyone knew. But no one ever asked, not really. And I get it, if anyone said anything I could have lost my job, I understand. But do you have any idea how hard it was to quit on my own?”
“I can’t even imagine,” Emily says diplomatically. Under the table, she keeps her hands still and fights the urge to pick at her nails.
“I don’t resent you. Any of you. That was my problem and I handled it on my own. But no one ever asked in Texas, either. Owen Savage killed eight people less than a week after the anniversary of--” He cuts himself off, swallowing his words and exhaling a shaky breath. He looks down at the still-open book in his hands. “I don’t expect anything more than a professional relationship with my colleagues. I would like to consider all of you friends, but I know that isn’t my right.”
“Reid, we are your friends,” Emily tries, and that was clearly the wrong thing to say because the hurt shifts to anger faster than she can track.
“Oh, really? Are you? Could have fooled me,” he snaps, walls fully back into place.
Emily leans forward and sets her jaw. For a moment, she thinks of a plane ride just a few short years ago, sitting in this same position and telling him that she’d chosen to take a beating for him and she’d do it again. “Reid, that’s not fair. JJ was in an impossible position. She would have told you in an instant if she could have, but it just wasn’t safe.”
“Why?” he demands. “Why wasn’t it safe? What, was Doyle going to stalk all of us? You think we wouldn’t have kept it secret? You didn’t trust us, I don’t see why I have any reason to trust you anymore.”
“Four years of working together isn’t reason enough?”
“That’s the funny thing about trust. Way easier to break than to build.” He huffs out a sigh. “Look, Emily, when I found out you were alive, I thought I had to be dreaming, I was so relieved. I really am happy to have you back. I’d just appreciate it if everyone would stop acting like just because your death was fake, the grief was too. No one -- no one ever asks, or if they do, they don’t listen, and that’s okay, they shouldn’t have to.” His grip on the book tightens. “It’s just that the only time I actually told was when I showed up at JJ’s doorstep.”
“She was just trying to help,” Emily says, resolute.
“I lost you, Emily,” he says, his voice choked. “You don’t understand, you were dead. I know you just want things to go back to normal, because you’re tired of this and you just want to move on, but you don’t get it. You didn’t mourn us, you knew that we were safe and alive the whole time. We were here, and to us, you were in the ground. Even if JJ was trying to help, it doesn’t change the fact that she kept you there.” He gives her that classic Dr. Reid half smile, the one that doesn’t reach his eyes, and says, “I don’t know how to go back to normal, Emily. I don’t know if I can.”
For a moment, she is well and truly stunned. Reid isn’t Hotch, he’s never hidden behind heavy silence and a face of stone, but Emily truly can’t think of the last time she’s heard him this vulnerable. She’d missed him in Paris, missed those awkward smiles and rambling sentences. In some detached way, she’d known that he would miss her too. She’d envisioned her funeral time and time again, she’d pictured the shock and the grief and the loss. But she’d also pictured the healing. The team would go on without her, just as it had without Gideon, and without Elle Greenaway before him. Seaver would pick up her slack, they’d find someone else for the rest. She’d needed to believe that they would be okay.
Emily never found normal in Paris. Life settled into routine, but it never felt right, not until she took those first few steps back into the round table room. It had felt like a homecoming.
She’d just been naive to think that her home could be the same as it was seven months ago.
Emily had been a spy for years and yet she thinks that Reid has faced more betrayal in his young life than she saw in her whole career. Gideon betrayed him in leaving, just as his father did so long ago. His mother, no matter how involuntarily, betrayed him every time she looked at him without recognition, every time she remembered paranoid delusions more clearly than she remembered her own son. The team, as much as they are loath to admit it, had betrayed him after Georgia by responding to his newfound anger rather than his shaking hands and desperate cries for help.
Emily wants this to be simple. She needs simplicity after living in a web of secrets and lies for so long she started to forget the truth. But this isn’t simple, and she can’t will a miracle fix into existence by pretending nothing is really broken.
This is something she -- and Hotch, and JJ, but right now, just she -- has to work at.
She hesitates, then reaches out a hand. He looks down at it, but doesn’t flinch when she grips his arm. ‘I don’t know how to go back to normal,’ he’d said, and it hits her then. “I shouldn’t have asked you to,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
He stills under her hand, swallowing hard.
“I know you’re hurt, and honestly, you have every right to be. I’m sorry for the way everything was handled. Everything,” she says, trying to convey that she means more than just the past seven months. “I’m sorry for leaving.” He looks up sharply, eyes wide like he’s been caught. She gives him a meaningful look. Profiler, remember? she thinks. “I didn’t want to, and I swear to you, it seemed like my only option. But I’m back now, and I promise, I’m not going anywhere this time.”
He gives her a jerky nod, and she knows that he doesn’t entirely believe it. She can’t blame him, the kid’s so used to abandonment by now that he practically expects it, but it still makes her heart sink.
Emily steels herself.
She knows it’s not all hers to fix, but she’ll do whatever she can. “I’m back, Reid. And right now, I’m asking. How can I fix it? Or at least, how can I help?”
“Time?” He blurts, like the word has been lodged in his throat. “Please just don’t pretend like everything is okay, not yet. I’m just-- I’m mad, and I’m… “ He trails off. Takes a deep breath. “Time. That’s all I want.”
“Alright,” she says. He looks impossibly young all of a sudden, his eyes bright with unshed tears. She tries to smile at him, but she’s filled with too much concern, too much regret, for her expression to be anything but sad. “I can give you that.”
And when he shows up at Rossi’s that night, she doesn’t comment on the obvious tension that still radiates from every interaction between him and JJ. She doesn’t try to intervene or call him on it, and she glares down Hotch when he starts to.
It’s not all fixed, it’s not all better, and it’ll be some time before they’ll be able to say it is. She sees that now.
But when she watches Reid genuinely laugh at JJ’s impression of Henry on his first trip to the beach, she thinks she can see that happy future a little bit more clearly.
It’ll just take time.
11 notes · View notes
Text
To act in your stead
Sorry this chapter took so long. I hope you enjoy it. It is chapter 3 of the body swap to the death Au.
---
Susie looked up at the ink pipes she’d installed. A child would have been able to tell where the professionally-installed pipes ended and hers began. They were crooked, going up and down like a zigzag at every joint. As a result, a few of them leaking slightly. Hopefully, they were easily fixed and she was doing more than wasting a week or more of Tom’s work schedule. Hopefully, they’d stay together for another four days. She’d reduced the ink pressure to make that a little more likely, at least. “Hey, Tom! Get over here!” An irritable voice came from behind her.
It was Sammy. Tom hated Sammy, so she rolled her eyes and gave him a sharp look. “What?”
“Come with me to my office!”
Susie just nodded. Normally she would have been intimidated, but she was beginning to see why Tom wouldn’t have been. Sammy looked tiny compared to her now, and wasn’t scary in the least even as he was stomping and angry like this.
Once the two of them were in Sammy’s office and the door was closed, Sammy uncurled his fists and stopped looking so angry. “Sorry about that,” he said. “So... without giving too much away, I’m a person who knows a thing or two about mechanics, and it looked like you needed help. Can I help you?”
Susie tried not to look too happy. This was a godsend. “Yes, that would be nice.”
“Excellent. So, obviously I can’t just go on out there and start getting my hands dirty, but I could tell you what you’re doing wrong. First, are you cutting the pipes?”
“They need to be cut?”
Allison had no idea, but suspected they didn’t. “Of course. If they’re the wrong length, they’ll all be crooked, and they’ll wear out in a matter of weeks.”
“What do I cut them with?”
“An electric hand saw. Do you have one at home?”
“I don’t know. There’s a lot of tools in the garage. Some looked electric. One might be a handsaw.”
“Well, I’m sure that there’s something there that we can use to cut pipes. If you want me to come over, I could show you how to use it.”
“Sounds good, thank you. I’ll come find you at six,” Susie deadpanned. Once she left and immediately found a quiet place where she could let her happiness out. Thank goodness, now she’d be able to actually do this properly! Unfortunately, whoever “Sammy” was hadn’t dropped any hints, though. The kindness sheer lack of emotionality suggested Henry, but the mechanical knowledge suggested Thomas. It must have been Lacie. She seemed like she had the capacity for both.
That evening, “Thomas” took Allison back to her and Tom’s house. Allison knew where the handsaw was, but she pretended to search the shelves until “Thomas” fished it out of the drawer.
“Okay,” Allison said, setting a board up on the sawhorse, “Let’s practice with some wooden boards before moving on to pipes. So, you’ll want to have it on a solid surface when you turn it on, like this.” She pressed a button on it and it came to life. “Want me to demonstrate how to cut a board?”
“I’d love that,” “Thomas” said, still in his gravelly voice. He wasn’t giving away any hints. Well, reaction to fear might end up being a giveaway.
Allison transferred the saw to her left hand and held the board with her right. “Alright. Just like this.” She began cutting, spraying sawdust and making that horrible saw noise. She was so uncoordinated with her left hand that she wasn’t sure she could pull this off.
Susie watched, disturbed that Sammy was cutting towards his hand. But, he probably knew what he was doing. Once it got close enough, she couldn’t take it anymore. “Sammy, move your hand!”
“What? I always-“ and then it happened. The handsaw was spraying blood, and her hand was being cut between the thumb and index finger. It was no small feat of willpower to force the blade a little further before turning it off. Allison was screaming. Susie was screaming. She ran into the house.
“Sammy!” she called “Get the first aid kit!” Oh, this was too good. Allison had noticed how irritable “Allison” had been, and she’d suspected that a lot of people were switched in pairs, but now she had confirmation.
“Thomas” and “Allison” came back into the garage. The look on “Allison’s” face was priceless as he caught sight of the mess of his hand. “What have you done?!” he yelled. “How will you play instruments like that?!”
At this point, Allison realized that she hadn’t actually looked at the damages yet. They were bad. The blood running down it and squirting from some ruptured artery she’d been able to feel, but the sawdust trapped inside of it- well, that was a bonus. It would probably get infected. The cut was long and deep, too. He was lucky that all the fingers were still attached. She was lucky it was throbbing so hard, or she would have had trouble hiding her satisfaction.
Twenty minutes later, Allison’s wound had been washed and bandaged, and the look of terror still hadn’t fully left Sammy’s face. He couldn’t express anger at her without revealing himself, of course, but Allison could sense it in him. When he looked at her, she could just see him silently yelling out the question: “who are you? Why did you do this to me?!”
—-
Aside from Allison’s revenge, the only notable thing that had happened on Wednesday was that “Joey” had proposed to “Henry” that they gather the players at his house a few hours before seven, so that none of them would be doing anything dangerous when it happened. This served several purposes. For one, it would allow Henry to see his kids, maybe for the last time. For another, it would give him an opportunity to drop off evidence at his house. He’d bring it in champagne boxes and slip them into his room when no one was watching. Joey was happy with the arrangement as well: he had several hunches but was only certain of three identities at the moment, and packing everyone into a closed space where they’d be all but forced to interact seemed like a great way to figure some out. He was getting a little desperate, and he wasn’t the only one.
Come Thursday morning, Bertrum was running out of time and he knew it. Not survival-wise, of course: decades in the public eye had left him with some excellent people-reading skills, and he had fair guesses on at least three or four identities. He was also quite the actor, and, since he had no idea what Jack Fain was like, had been pretending to be a different person every day that week to throw anyone off his trail. Yes, survival-wise, he was doing great. But he still hadn’t caught a single glimpse of himself, and the meeting was tonight. And so, Bertrum was standing at the only entrance to Joey Drew Studios in wait.
Finally, “Bertrum” came in, and “Jack” didn’t hesitate to stop him. “Can I speak with you?”
“Oh, uh, sure. I’m in no particular rush.” Whoever this was, they were putting no effort at all into being the Great Bertrum Piedmont, aside from a poorly faked deep, British voice. But now wasn’t the time to be guessing identities.
“This will take all day.”
“Oh, okay. Well, first I need to go check on the Bendyland employees, and have an in-depth meeting with Lacie. Can I meet you back here later?”
Bertrum supposed he could use an opportunity to see what he had to work with. “I’ll come with you,” he insisted.
“Well, okay,” Jack replied, chirpy but a bit nervous. Jack was not a good actor, and he knew it. He definitely didn’t think that he could project Bertrum Piedmont-levels of bravado and confidence. His strategy had basically been been to avoid everyone except for Lacie, whose identity he hadn’t figured out yet, but that’s what the meeting was for. Well, now it seemed like he’d have to act the best he could for whoever was inhabiting his body.
The two arrived at Bendyland, where three Bendyland employees were slacking off, playing the target shooting game. Lacie was one of them. Jack cupped his hands together. “Hey!” he snapped, trying to get their attention. Was that a Bertrum-like way to get attention? He didn’t know, and with whoever was in his body breathing down his neck, he was getting really nervous. If they heard him, they didn’t listen, so he walked up to them. Even the way he walks is self-effacing, Bertrum thought to himself, almost offended at this... parody of himself. “Hey,” Jack said, quieter now that he was closer to them. The Bendyland workers finally looked up from their game to him.
“What?” One of them asked casually. All three of them were grinning, the two non-players wondering if Alzheimer’s had caught up to their boss and made him go soft.
“Are you, uh, fellows doing your quota of work?” There was no anger or accusation in his voice.
“Yeah.”
“Do you need me to do anything?” Jack truthfully had no idea what he was supposed to do. He’d designed some attractions and checked on the employees every day. That seemed like the right thing to do, or at least, the closest he could figure out.
“Nope, we’re good.” Bertrum could tell that they had barely done a thing. The crates of decor that they were supposed to put up this week were sitting next to the game, most not even opened.
“Okay, then. I’ll check in on you tomorrow.”
Jack turned around and stumbled over an ink pipe on the floor, which made the Bendyland workers laugh. Bertrum couldn’t take it any longer. “That’s it! You do not laugh at the great Bertrum Piedmont! Now get to work before he comes to his senses!”
The workers froze, then frantically went over to one of the crates and began decorating.
“Now you’re coming with me,” Bertrum said to Jack.
“Uh, sure. Hey, Lacie? I’ll come find you when I’m ready, okay?”
Lacie shrugged, not looking away from her work. “Sure.”
As soon as Jack and Bertrum were out of the studio, Bertrum spoke up. “Alright. No need for fancy introductions. I am the great Bertrum Piedmont, and I happen to have a very important meeting tonight. A meeting with the great Clifford Clines, CEO of Cedar Springs Entertainment. He’s considering me as the creator of his brand’s first theme park. Do you know how long it takes to create a theme park? If he wants an especially large park- and I assure you, he will- this could be the project that my son takes over for me once I retire or- or retire. This could be the first project in the next stage of the Colossal Wonders legacy! But that’s only if I can whip you into shape. Stand up straight. Puff your chest out. Stop holding yourself like you’re halfway apologizing for your existence. For the next four days, you’re pretending to be someone whose presence is a gift. Now, who are you?”
Jack had been obeying him, but he couldn’t answer that. “Sorry, I want to live. I can’t-“
“No. I mean, who are you?”
“Bertrum Piedmont.”
“Say it like you’ve been him all your life!”
“I am the great Bertrum Piedmont!”
“Good! Yes! Or at least, I’ll teach you to be him!”
That afternoon, as Bertrum taught Jack how to behave at his meeting, it finally came time for ink to be run through the ink pipes that “Thomas” had installed. Susie really wasn’t sure about this. She’d been too afraid to call and ask about cutting the pipes because of how obvious a question it probably was. Of course she shouldn’t cut the pipes- who would think of such a thing? And she had some serious doubts about the purity of “Sammy’s” intentions. But by deciding to ignore his advice, she was stuck with those crooked, zigzag pipes.
After she put the last pipe in, she looked back to see if “Henry” was still watching her. He was. Alright, no hesitation, then. She walked over, threw the switch all the way instead of inching up the pressure. Not fifteen seconds later, the resulting cacophony made her duck for cover on instinct. Pipes clattered to the ground, struck her, or shot at the walls. Ink was spraying everywhere. And “Henry” was still standing there with an expressionless look on his face. Not even Norman was this creepy! What would Thomas do in this situation? Don’t cry. Don’t freak out. Don’t cry. Do something you idiot! Turn off the ink pressure.That’s what Susie did, before making her way to the music department, where five of the players would be. As she passed it by, she also noticed that the ink machine was making some very concerning clunking and creaking noises.
Right in the middle of a recording, an ink-covered and very distressed-looking Thomas Connor burst into the the recording studio. “I need some backup,” he said, trying not to sound distressed “I can’t handle the ink machine anymore and I need someone who does to help me. “Jack” and “Alice” weren’t even there, so there wasn’t a great chance that anyone there would even be able to help. “Norman” quietly slipped out.
Lacie knew that she couldn’t help with this without narrowing down everyone’s quarry when it came to her, so she went off to find herself. There she was, decorating a Bendyland game booth. “Hey, Lacie. Come with me. Bring your tool kit.”
“Okay.”
As they made their way from the the Bendyland department, Lacie explained the plan. “Alright. Now, I have some hidden depths. My father was a mechanic. And right now, things need fixing. So I need you to pretend to be the one fixing them. I’ll quietly follow you at a distance and do the actual fixing, alright? First thing’s first, go to the recording studio and ask Thomas where the problem is.”
Shawn agreed to it, and Lacie fell behind him, walking softly as though she were stalking him.
When they got back to the music department, “Thomas” was on the phone with GENT. “What do you mean, ‘I’m the only one who knows how to maintenance the ink machine? That can’t be right.”
Shawn grabbed "Thomas” by the shoulder. “Hey. You show me where the problem is, I’ll fix it.”
As Lacie followed the two to the scene of the disaster, all she could think of was two things: first, “Lacie” must have known her pretty well, because he was doing one hell of an acting job. Secondly, his voice sounded off. Suppressing an accent, maybe? Both pointed to the same two identities: Shawn and Bertrum. She’d figured out who the other music department players were aside from Alice, but she could always use another layer of protection, and with how different Shawn and Bertrum were, chances were she was going to get one.
“Right here,” “Thomas” said once they arrived at the location. “And please, check on the ink machine, too. I don’t think I’m maintaining it properly. I can’t thank you enough.” Lacie had to hide around a corner from “Thomas” and “Lacie” until “Thomas” split from them.
As soon as Lacie saw the mess of the hallway, she knew that there wasn’t much to be done about it. For some pipes it would have just been a simple matter of adjusting, but others had been twisted from all that pressure, and almost half of them had fallen straight off the wall. It would take easily a day to fix, and the projectionist couldn’t just disappear for that long. “Yep. Let’s go to the ink machine,” Lacie declared.
After turning the ink machine off and opening it up, the problem became obvious: the gears were too clogged with thick ink to turn properly. As a result, the machine was overheating to the point where it almost burned to touch. “You’re gonna have to have to handle this one, Lacie. It would be awfully hard to explain why the projectionist has this kind of ink on their hands.”
“Lacie” made a face, but nonetheless got in there with his hands and started shoveling out the hot sludge.
“Oh yeah. One more thing,” Lacie said before stomping down on Shawn’s foot.
“Eejit! Mo fecken chos!” Shawn screamed before realizing that he’d outed himself and turning redder than a beet.
“Hi, Shawn. You do one hell of an impression.”
“Ah, well, I’ve figured you out, too, Lacie. I know you better than you know yerself.” he plucked, annoyed but playful and in full Irish accent. He threw a glob of ink at her, which she dodged.
She already knew three identities. Was the extra safety worth selling out Shawn?
Lacie laughed a little. “Well, I have to get back to my projector booth before someone gets suspicious. Meet me after work, alright?” —- “Another brandy, barkeep, if you please,” Bertrum called out across the way. If he was going to have a younger liver for the next little bit, he might as well use it. It was evening, and Bertrum had coached his little body snatcher on everything there was to know about being the Great Bertrum Piedmont. Through all that teaching, though, he’d seen enough of the man to figure out who he was.
It had been a hard week for Bertrum, not only because of the professional stress and mortal danger, but because everyone seemed to expect him to just go along with whatever they said. Like he had no desires of his own. It’s how non-players treated him. It’s how players tested and needled at him. And Bertrum had snapped at a few of them- hopefully not hard enough to give him away. But that kind of behaviour that they expected of him seemed to be exactly what came naturally to his student. It was Jack Fain. Self-effacing, kind-to-a-fault, laid-back, embarrassed-to-be-alive Jack Fain. And those upper crust business men were going to eat him alive.
“Barkeep! Another, please!” At least this body was good at handling liquor. He must have drank six of these things and he didn’t feel inebriated in the slightest. When would Jack get here?
Finally, Bertrum heard Jack’s voice, using a now much less fake-sounding accent. “Hey. Want some news?” Strange- he sounded fairly perky. Bertrum turned to him. He looked pretty pleased with himself and was holding an envelope. Bertrum allowed himself some hope.
“Go ahead.”
“You got it. He wants the biggest theme park the world’s ever seen!”
Bertrum nearly fell out of his seat. He snatched the letter out of Jack’s hands. It contained the date and location of what would be their first meeting to discuss the park. “I- well- thank you!” Bertrum stuttered. Maybe he wasn’t handling the liquor as well as he thought. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure,” Jack replied, sitting down.
“How have you been handling the game?” Bertrum asked friendily.
Jack grimaced. “Yours is the only identity I’ve figured out.. But I don’t think anyone’s guessed me, so I think I’m alright. I just need to keep a low profile, and that shouldn’t be hard, aside from Henry’s party.”
Bertrum knew that if Jack played like that, he was surely dead. He put on his gentlest voice and said, “Actually, I think I’ve figured out who you are. Are you Jack Fain?”
There was fear in Jack’s eyes for a moment, but he quickly forced it out of them. “No. You’re wrong.” He got up and left, stopping a moment to look back. If he hadn’t said that, he could have asked how his family was. But it was too late for that. In that moment it sunk in that he needed to find another identity if he ever wanted to see them again.
Bertrum got up to chase after Jack, and tell him one of the identities he’d figured out so that he would be safe. After Jack had nailed the meeting, he deserved that much. But Bertrum fell over almost immediately- his legs were just too unsteady from booze.
15 notes · View notes
oxsix · 4 years
Text
The Long Road to Family
Chapter 9- Reunions pt.1
AO3
In which things couldn’t be more awkward if they’d planned it that way.
As Catherine of Aragon walks toward the destination she'd been given, she can't help but think through every possible unpleasant situation that could occur. Chief among them is that she gets there to find only Anne. She tries to avoid thinking about the discomfort of the two of them reuniting with only them there. It's enough to make her physically cringe.
She works through a number of awkward scenarios in her head, and her mind tries desperately to imagine how it would react in the situation, and how she could get out of there as soon as possible. Her mind has always had that tendency—to overthink, over-analyse. It's caused her plenty pain and stress in the past. And it's followed her into the next life, apparently.
The door to the building is fairly uninspiring; it's just a small community centre, and not a very well-funded one. Catalina's not really aware of this, though, as she's unfamiliar with the concept of a community centre as  whole. All she sees is a squat little brick building, adorned with flyers for a number of events, some of which have already passed. As she approaches, the glass doors open on their own and she jumps a little. This new world doesn't seem to run out of quirks.
With some apprehension, she enters, and does her best to swallow the awful feeling of trepidation that's built up over the course of her journey. She knows she'll be one of the first there; it's only 5:30 am. She'd given up on trying to sleep and opted to turn up early instead. Still, that means she's more likely to be stuck in the awkwardness of trying to interact one-on-one with somebody.
She isn't sure which of the five she thinks will be less uncomfortable. She never really knew any of them except for Anne, and that had been ill-fated.
The woman who is waiting there in the room, however, is not any of them. She is the one person Catalina would not have expected, and probably one of the last people she would hope for. But Aragon doesn't know that yet.
She takes stock of this stranger—not someone she recognises, of course. None of them look like their old selves now. She's got dark hair, pulled back into a ponytail, and a full fringe. Catalina scans her face for anything that might be familiar; anything that might hint at who she's looking at. She finds nothing.
"Hi." The woman says, voice slightly shaking. Evidently, she's as nervous as Catalina is.
"Hi. Early morning?"
"Couldn't sleep." The woman's voice is blunt. She seems to relax a little with Catalina's friendly tone, though.
She lets out a small huff in response.
"Yeah, me neither. Too much to- Too much of an adjustment, I suppose."
"Yeah, we didn't really sleep, either. The others are still watching TV, I think. I needed some air, so... thought I'd just head out."
"Others?" As far as Catalina had been aware, the six of them had been roomed individually.
"The other Ladies in Waiting, sorry. Maggie, Joan, Maria? We, um... We came back too. Sorry, we should probably have done introductions by now."
Catalina laughs, but part of her is still fixated on a particular name. Her Maria? Was she back too?
"Yeah, probably."
"Bessie." She holds out a hand. "Bessie Blount."
"Catalina." Her voice is as neutral as it can be. Bessie lowers the hand.
And, for what feels like another five centuries, the two of them stand there. And they stare at each other. And they try to figure out just how the fuck they're supposed to react to this.
Because there's no guidebook for this. No "How To Deal With Being Resurrected 500 Years In The Future And Meeting Your Ex-husband's Mistress Again For Dummies.” Neither of them even know where to begin.
So they stand, and they stare. And their minds race.
All of her thinking; her planning, and Catalina had never been prepared for this. It should have occurred to her sooner—she should have been ready for the worst, and here it was. She wants to disappear. She doesn't want to have to negotiate this situation right now. She hasn't slept, and she'd been dead up until yesterday afternoon. She's in no state to deal with this.
But she's here. And there's no getting out of it.
Bessie. After all this time. She's older now, though Catalina supposes they've all changed in appearance, anyway. She looks the other woman in the eyes—neither of them have been able to break their tense eye-contact yet—and she can almost see that scared teenager all over again.
She's angry. But she's also guilty. And sad. And confused. And- happy? She doesn't know any more. All she knows is it's far too much for one person to feel at once. And, from the look on her face, Bessie is feeling something similar.
She doesn't know if she wants to scream and shout, or cry, or embrace the other woman. Or punch her in the face. She can't make sense of all the conflicting feelings inside her, so she stand there.
Still.
They play this game of emotional chicken, where they both stand there in stoic silence, and wait for the other to make a move. Neither wants to sacrifice their pride by being the first to react.
And then she caves. And her arms are around the other woman, and she might be crying but she can't be sure.
"What are you doing?" Bessie is stiff in her arms.
"I don't know."
"Me neither." Her arms move up, slowly, to return the embrace.
"Okay."
"Okay."
Neither of them are sure how long they stand there like that, only that they're both definitely crying and they aren't entirely certain why.
It's been a long time coming, that's for sure. And they're still going to have a lot to talk about; and argue about. But it's a start. And they need it; both of them. Desperately.
And how can Catalina hate the girl, anyway? She was only one in a long, long line of women. She can't exactly hold it against her. If nothing else, her reading has assured her that, had it not been for Bessie, Henry would only have found some other woman to be unfaithful with. It had never been about Bessie. It had always been him.
They don't know how much time passes, but they're interrupted by the entrance of someone new. And, without skipping a beat, they both shift away from each other lightning-fast. Even if they are beginning to make amends, they're both too prideful to let their vulnerability show for someone else.
"Oh. Sorry." The newcomer looks sheepish. Catalina shifts awkwardly.
The new woman is shorter than Catalina, and her curly dark hair is piled on top of her head. Her head is tilted slightly, as she analyses the situation.
A hand is outstretched towards her. Catalina takes it.
"Cathy. Cathy Parr." She gives a slightly uneasy smile, as she tries to lighten the mood.
-----
Christ. She's only just got here and she's already made a mess of it. She's never been the best at social interactions. Heated discussions? Yes. She could convince someone that the sky was green, with enough effort. But introductions, and everyday conversation?
She has the urge to dive out of a window.
"Catherine of Aragon." The taller woman replies. Cathy smiles, though she's still reeling with her fight-or-flight instinct.
"Ah! My namesake, then."
"Yeah." The other woman smiles back, but the energy between them is still awkward.
Cathy is incredibly curious about the other woman; she has a million questions she wants to ask, but she doesn't know where to start, and she doesn't want to overstep the boundary between them.
She doesn't know her, after all. She's a stranger, despite being her Goddaughter. There's a bit of something in her—the part that's still a young girl—that wants to reach out. To create that kind of bond between them, but Cathy had never been good at that sort of thing. So she doesn't; not yet, at least.
"Bessie Blount." Says the other woman, who until now had been giving the others the chance to acquaint themselves.
"You're here too?"
"A few of us, yeah. No idea how."
"That's odd."
"All of this is incredibly odd." Catalina cuts in.
There's still an awkward tension between the other two, which Cathy hopes not to find herself in the middle of.
"You're not wrong." Bessie concedes.
Slowly, the silence between them returns. Cathy wants to break it, but she isn't sure what to say. She wants this to be her chance. It's not every day you come back to life. Cathy has to believe that it's happening for a reason, and she wants to seize the opportunity. Why can't she do it? The more she tries to force herself to reach out, the larger the distance between them seems to become.
What was she thinking anyway? Catalina is just a stranger to her and she's going to want rid of her just as much as Bessie.
"Did you guys do any reading last night?" Stupid. It's not exactly the most novel way to continue the conversation, and both of the other women look a little uncomfortable. The moments before a response are excruciatingly long.
"A little yeah." Catalina's voice is sombre. "Nothing I wanted to know though." There's something broken in her tone, and it doesn't take much for Cathy to figure out what's gotten to her like that. And there's nothing Cathy can do to alleviate that.
Of course Catalina won't want her to be any kind of Goddaughter. She'd only be some pathetic imitation of what she'd lost. An insult to any positive memory she had left.
"No." Cathy replies, her voice conveying more hurt than she intended. "Me neither."
They fall into uncomfortable silence again, and Cathy mentally kicks herself. She prays that someone else gets here soon to relieve this discomfort between them all. Cathy had come here ready to be a mediator between a group of women she expected would be all too ready to fight each other. But there doesn't seem to be much fight left in them so far.
17 notes · View notes
theonceoverthinker · 6 years
Text
OUAT 2X12 - In the Name of the Brother
Brother (Or sister, or any other sibling, real or metaphorical), can you spare the time...to read my latest review?
Tumblr media
Great! Head below the cut!
Press Release Dr. Whale is tasked with mending Hook’s wounds and performing surgery on the stranger whose car crashed upon entering Storybrooke. But some of the townspeople fear that the stranger may have seen magic – which could expose their true identities to the world – and think that leaving him to die would be the best solution. Meanwhile, as Mr. Gold tries to reunite with a despondent Belle, Cora attempts to reunite with daughter Regina; and in the land that was, Victor desperately wants to prove to his disapproving father that he can, indeed, bring back the dead. General Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness Past This is one of the most visually appealing segments in the entire series. The World of Black and White is such a crazy concept, but it absolutely rocks. The style and the use of color make it so hard to forget and it really makes for a world that feels like none other, something that the other realms aren’t always able to do. And when Rumple appears, it’s such a contrast. Like, had this not been done so carefully, the mix of a technicolor Rumple in a world like this would’ve looked sloppy, but instead, it’s as every bit as magical as one could imagine or want it to be. I also like how the acknowledgment of this distinction is never too much of a distraction for the characters. Rumple (And his gold) definitely pops out from the rest of the crowd, but they never stop to think about that in terms of the schematics of their world. I’m glad about this because it doesn’t invite a feeling of distraction away from the story. Finally, let’s talk about music because the music here definitely delivers on the dark gothic atmosphere of the world, and it starts to blend with our world as Rumple shows up. As for the story itself, it’s pretty basic -- good, but basic. It’s essentially a darker “Aladdin” and a gentler Frankenstein story mixed in to one. And it’s cool! Really, it is! The unique take on Frankenstein is cool and having Rumple be what amounts to a jerk genie in it gives a fun spin. However, there’s not that much that’s worth touching upon apart from the style. Present So, the present segment finds itself pretty divided among our main cast and as mixed as the plotlines get, so are my impressions of them.
Emma and co don’t really have much of a story, per se, but act as passive reactants to everything else at play, and to be fair, that’s the most that could be expected of them in this scenario. I found that the debate over whether to let Greg live or not compelling enough, but thankfully not made to be such a big deal, especially when the main players generally don’t harm innocents. Still, it was nice to have Grumpy and Gold to list off the problems that Greg’s existence could present as something to think about (And to be fair, I guess it was something to do before the crazed Plot Hole Police arrived to badger A&E over for years, if they hadn’t already at this point).
Watching Regina and Cora interact is the most uncomfortable thing in the world, and I mean that in the best way possible. Cora, whether true in her love for Regina or not, still manages to squirm her way into Regina’s heart where she knows she’s unwelcome. It’s honestly sinister seeing her apologize for things that we know she doesn’t mean (Making Regina marry Leopold and framing her for Archie’s “death”), but eventually convince Regina regardless. And to Regina’s credit, Cora only gets him by plucking the nerve of her most recent dilemma: Earning Henry’s trust back. Seeing Regina cradling in Cora’s neck is so awful, like seeing a spider ensnare her prey.
Finally, what the hell brought on Whale’s bout into depression? I guess it was seeing the watch which reminded him of his brother, but he was clearly drinking before he got the watch, so what gives? Was is because he couldn’t get sent back to his realms a few episodes ago because that wasn’t even in the “Previously On” section? Like, I’m sorry, but we see Whale on the verge of committing suicide. That’s a serious topic to show, especially for the very real way that Whale attempts it. There needs to either be more of a focus on Whale’s present situation to get to that point. I will say, there is a redemption here by Ruby because her speech at least connects more to the past segment in how Whale can’t change the past, but can change the future.   Insights - Stream of Consciousness -As a victim of a car crash, seeing that again wasn’t traumatic at all! *nervous shudder* -Killian, this is the exact worst time to be an instigator! What the hell?! -This is also the filming spot for my OTHER favorite blooper. I’ll give you a hint: Anyone down for some crushed nuts? -Credit to Emma and David for knowing exactly how to tame Rumple! Small moments like these give a nice amount of payoff for the respective dynamics! -”From the outside?” I feel like if this had happened during the last episode, I probably would’ve put that Peter Griffin meme here about matching the titles in the dialogue. -I love the opening title card here! I normally love them all, but the distinction of color is just magnificent here! -Whale, don’t drink on the job! -”That’s your cross to bear, I suppose.” Victor, making puns is my schtick! -”He’ll cool off.” Gerhardt, your dad wasn’t even mad. I’d say Victor was madder. -Emma’s coming into Killian’s hospital room all confident and I am so here for this! And looks like Killian agrees! -Killian sees he’s chained. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?” Killian is just getting the best lines here and I am also here for this! XD -”If I had to pick dead guy of the year? I’d pick you.” Give it a couple more seasons, Emma. -I love how Ruby knew there were 10,000 combos right off the top of her head! She’s so smart! -”A LinkedIn account.” Not only is this dude a loser, BUT he’s now spamming the few people that can stand him with invitations to certify that he knows PowerPoint! He’s a MONSTER, I tell you! -”And he tweets pictures of his food.” Greg, torturing Regina aside (Which is also pretty fucking horrendous), you are just the WORST person! -Leroy’s apparently a movie buff. Who knew? -”We need to tell Regina’s she’s been framed.” Yesss! Thank you, Snow! I’m not mad at anyone for not immediately thinking of her given the crisis, but I am happy that someone did (Actually, some two because of Snow and Ruby!). Also, it enriches their dynamics going forward! Also, credit to her for understanding the internal danger Cora poses to Regina! I’m seriously loving Snow this season! -”You better hope he dies.” I like the strength of the writing in this line. It’s the driving force for the morality that Emma and co are tasked with thinking about, however inactively, throughout the segment. -”It’s not murder if we let him succumb to his injuries.” “I’m pretty sure it is.” It totally is! Look, for all the moral conflict of this episode, it’s totally murder and I’m glad that the character framed as the one closer to the audience is the one aware of that. -Gee, did Disney buy Star Wars at around this time? I’ve no idea! -”Rumple Von Stiltskin.” Imagine if that’s actually how his name was structured! XD -”Are you a philanthropist?” “Well, I’ve been called worse.” Rumple’s also gotten great quips! -*Rumple sees box* ...August? “Hello, Rumple.” Ah! Cora! What a fakeout! -”The Crocodile snaps at the little bird.” I guess Killian’s vernacular grew on Cora throughout their time together. Now though, I want to know what animal Killian is. What animal is everyone?! -A moment of silence for the deleted Jello scene that never made it to air. A-woman. -Cora, do not smell Regina’s clothes! That is fucking creepy! -Disguising yourself as Henry? Cora, that is a new low! And your former low already bonked Hades’ blue head! -Cora, go away! You’ve been in Regina’s sights for all of a quarter of a second and you’ve already given Regina a panic attack! -I feel like the only reason Rumple held up that magnifying glass was so that the effects team could show off just how well they did his eyes. -Regina’s hiding spot is so beautiful! She has a gorgeous albino apple tree, christmas lights, jewels all around, and gorgeous wallpaper! Fuck the monarchy! Go into interior design! -”Determination.” Cora, shut up, you are not an Undertale character. ...Actually, you totally could pass as Chara. -”Emma and Henry and the two idiots.” I love how small, but still funny that line was. -Okay, so I totally want Ruby to just run on her own in my “Wacky Races” dream fic because holy shit! She’s fast! -I’m not sure if Gerhardt beating the crap out of his father for verbally assaulting Victor is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen or the most heartwarming. -”It seems that science does too [have a price].” Bro, do you even physics?! -I’m not going to write down Ruby’s entire speech, but I do like the concept of looking at bright sides to Regina’s curse. It’s definitely not an admission that it was a good deed nor should it be, but in this isolated incident, it’s interesting to see Ruby and Whale commiserate over things. -Also, serious props to Ruby for cutting Whale’s self-hate monologue to get to the situation at hand. XD -”These carriages are strange.” I wonder if Cora was actually serious when she says this! XD I mean, cars are probably intimidating to those not familiar with them. -”It’s one of my most treasured possessions.” Awww! -It’s so freaky seeing Gerhardt moving around in his undead state. He’s like a gorilla in the way he moves his arms and legs and the way he cowers and sits. What a cool take on Frankenstein’s monster! Like that, more than anything would make me interested in a follow-up Frankenstein flashback. -I feel so bad for Snow as she’s being let down about not going into Greg’s room, but I can’t help but laugh. Like Snow, the fuck, bro? -”It’s a cup.” Am I the only one getting a sense of deja vu from “A Bug’s Life” here? XD -Greg, you sly dog! You, Killian, and Cora could bag Best Acting Awards until you die! -”I was texting.” ...While not my exact situation, this was too fucking real… -I love that globe and wish we saw more of it! On topic, everyone in Storybrooke should keep a private sampling of blood just for safekeeping at this point for identity purposes. -Awww! Poor Emma! Henry, just let her sleep! And then Gold comes in! The poor woman! -”If any harm comes to Belle while I’m gone, I’m killing all of you.” ...Was anyone in that room trying to hurt Belle? For the wham line it was supposed to be, it doesn’t come back in a meaningful way and it’s so oddly aimed. I guess this was written before Colin got hurt and maybe Killian was supposed to go after her again? Arcs - How are These Storylines Progressing? Rumple’s Redemption - As much as my inner sense of empathy is judging Rumple, his decision to essentially say “fuck off” to the request to help Greg is pretty in-character. Not only is he dealing with the anger over losing Belle and essentially letting Killian get away with it without killing him (Which is in itself a pretty great stride that holds through from his decision in the previous episode), but yeah, for as much as I like Rumple and think that the writing does an excellent job of painting him as not a complete fucking monster, I put the word ‘complete’ in there for a reason. Rumple still has a long way to go until he reaches a point where he can care for someone whose outside of his tiny circle of love, and for whatever can be said about his relations to Emma and David, they’re not at a point where they’re strong enough where he’d give them that much concern. Regina’s Redemption - “I have to let you know. I had nothing to do with Archie.” I almost feel like I can leave it there, but nah. You deserve more! So, just as much as Regina wants Henry to be by her side regardless as for as much as her attempted redemption had hurt her thus far, Regina’s still committed to doing right by Henry, and that’s amazing! Furthermore, Regina shows that even if she didn’t accept her treatment when the accusations came around over Archie’s death, she does accept that given the circumstances, it was a reasonable assumption to make. Honestly, the entirity of Regina’s scenes with Cora speak of how far she’s come, as she stands against Cora’s points over why she framed Regina. Obviously, part of what made Regina go as evil as she did was Cora’s influence, and seeing her work so hard to not let Cora control her again was just so impressive! Hell, even gives Cora an understanding of what she wants if she’s to trust Cora again. Greg Mendell - We get our first (Okay, second) piece of Greg in this episode. Definitely a good actor and I like how there was this subversion of expectations in this episode (until the ending, of course) while still raising all of the needed points about him and his existence here for later in the season where they would apply. Favorite Dynamic Rumple and Cora - I like how we get to see that Cora’s menace doesn’t just stretch to Regina, but how exactly it stretches to Rumple. Rumple and Cora are on equal footing in a way that Rumple and Regina only came to be during the final two seasons of the show, and that comes across so clearly in just how he acts around her in their one scene together. She’s able to push him a bit and even prompts a deal where he has to hesitantly accept it, and that’s so rarely done, especially by an enemy. Just look at the worry in Rumple’s eye and that bit of trepidation, but he still manages to keep most of his cool. That is how Rumple responds to a real threat. It’s almost karmic retribution for not bothering with Greg (Or trying so hard to keep Cora out of Stroybrooke that she’d let Emma and Snow die), but I don’t know if I would go so far as to say that for certain. Still, their one scene both establishes so much of their dynamic and sets up the board for later. Writer Jane Espenson is back, and she did a decent job here. I like how she balanced the screentime of so much of our main and supporting cast. No one ever feels like they got the shaft and what they were given to do fits their story so well. In addition, I feel like the writing is done very well, particularly with Regina and Cora. The way Regina speaks is a great reflection of the work she’s done as she deflects Cora’s points hit by hit and only succumbs to a situation that was well set up. Jane is really good when it comes to writing Regina, as “We Are Both” was also hers and the depictions of both her past and present character were marvelous! Also, as a side note, she wrote Emma and Killian much better here. There’s clearly animosity, but a level of concern and even flirting off of Emma’s side that is actually allowed to show up for a hot second. Rating 8/10. Style is the name of the game here. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that the aesthetics weren’t impressive enough to bring the whole episode up a level. As for the other segments, they ranged in quality, but were more good than bad, though since Whale was the main segment, the shortcomings of that story stood out more. But thankfully, it wasn’t the only portion between the interesting broad strokes of the OUAT rendition of Frankenstein, the true horror story of seeing Cora take over Regina’s life again, and the small inner workings of Emma and co in the background as they react to all of this. Flip My Ship - Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness” Rumbelle - I noticed that just as the episode started, Rumple was calling Belle “Beautiful Belle” as the authorities were coming for her. That’s small, but pretty cute! And you just gotta feel for Rumple as he tries so desperately to make Belle remember him. While I’m not really sure if I like or dislike the failed TLK, the cup scene absolutely accomplishes what it sets out to do. Also, “do you have any spells to return memories?” Just look at Rumple here. He looks so nervous as he’s asking, as fragile as a young schoolboy! And he does that in front of CORA! That is adorable for Rumbelle! Captain Swan - Killian just gets hit by a freakin’ CAR and the first thing he says is, “Hey beautiful.” Killian, never change! ...Actually, yeah. You need to change a lot, but fortunately, you do! Hell, even Emma gives into the flirting a bit after a bit! Also, “everything else is still intact.” KIllian, could you be any more obvious?! Also also, Emma’s pretty keen on keeping an eye on Killian despite the fact that he’s handcuffed. Finally, Emma’s reaction to Rumple’s threat to kill Hook at the end of the episode...looks like she does care. Golden Heart - ”I’ve no reason to cheat you.” “Anymore.” Looks like we’ve got some angry exes! XD Also, notice how Rumple’s lingering juuuuuust a bit during that kiss! You dog! ()()()()()()()()() Finally! Another really good episode to talk about and get pumped over!! Thank you so much for reading and to the awesomesauce fine folks at @watchingfairytales for making like Frankenstein and bringing my creations to life! Bwahahahahha!
Any guesses on what will happen next time? I’ll give you a tiiiiiiiiny hint: It’s one of my favorites. See you then! Season 2 Tally (104/220) Writer Tally for Season 2: Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis: (29/60) Jane Espenson (25/50) Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg (24/50) David Goodman (16/30) Robert Hull (16/30) Christine Boylan (7/30) Kalinda Vazquez (10/30) Daniel Thomsen (10/20)
Operation Rewatch Archives
21 notes · View notes
we’ll give the world to you, and you’ll blow us all away
This is a tiny bit of Captain Cobra fic that will become canon to me if we don't get any interaction between Henry and real-Hook by the end of the season! Thanks to @happilyswanjones for reading this over for me!
You can find it on Ao3 here. Enjoy!
He found the horizon calming. He didn’t really know why, whether it was instinctual or thanks to too much time spent with Killian. But sitting on the bow of the Jolly Roger, legs hanging over the side, Henry felt at peace, despite the storm of issues he was inevitably about to face in the coming weeks.
Over the last eight years, he’d stumbled upon heaps of positives of having two mums. Regina’s place was perfect if he needed an escape from Emma and Killian’s love-sick teenager routine. It worked vice versa too, and whenever Regina was in one of her standard bad moods, he always had somewhere else to run to.
Having to share potentially earth-shattering news twice was not one of those positives.
No one was going to understand. Or maybe they would, but they wouldn’t like it. There’d been so much talk of college, of heading off to New York City, or Boston to write for publishers and papers. And Henry knew that both his mothers, even Killian had been putting money aside for it.
It’s not like he wasn’t grateful; he knew how desperate people were to get places in colleges, to have the funds to do so. He knew he was lucky.
But it wasn’t what he wanted. Not really. In theory it sounded great, but in its actuality, it didn’t seem like enough.
Maybe it was Violet breaking up with him a year ago, heading back to her home in the Enchanted Forest that brought it on, but either way, college didn’t seem like the right fit anymore.
He heard the footsteps before he saw who they belonged to. Not that he needed to check. Henry had heard them way too many times marching up the corridor, always followed by a voice telling him to get out of bed on early mornings, asking if he wanted to go sailing.
“Something on your mind, lad?” Killian asked, hovering behind him as if waiting for an invitation to sit. Henry let out a sigh, shrugging his shoulders ever so slightly.
“Why would you think that?” he asked, finally looking over his shoulder to meet the tilted head of his stepfather, eyes deep with concern. Henry moved over slightly, making room for the man to sit beside him.
“Because,” Killian started, moving to take the offered seat, “when I was a lad, a brand-new lieutenant on this very vessel,” he let out a breath as he sunk onto the raised edge, shuffling to get comfortable, “I used to sit in this very spot and think.”
Henry snorted, now keeping his eyes locked on something in the distance.
“Also, because I got a worried phone call from your mother saying you very efficiently fled the house as soon as she asked you about college applications.”
He shrugged again, not game enough to comment in fear of spilling out the truth. Killian cleared his throat at the silence, taking his eyes off Henry and onto the horizon. They sat for a moment in silence before Killian spoke again, this time softer.
“Look, lad. If the last few years of parenting,” he stumbled over that word, and Henry laughed in his head at Killian’s constant hesitancy to call himself a parent; it was clear to everyone how far their relationship had come, “has taught me anything, it’s that there’s no point pushing you if you don’t want to talk. So I’m happy to sit here in silence as long as you like.”
Looking across at him now, Henry studied the man sitting next to him. Only a few years ago, Henry would have shied away, not willing to talk to his moms about things like this, let alone Emma’s pirate boyfriend. But somewhere along the line, he’d become more than that. Maybe it was the sailing trips, the family dinners or movie nights, or even the little moments, like when Killian tried his first Pop Tart.
(He’d claimed to hate it, but Henry had noticed the supply depleting at a faster rate after that day.)
So, at some point, Killian had become family. Not that he hadn’t been before, or even that he legally was after the wedding. No. He had become family to Henry .
He could remember, way back in the time of the Missing Year, when his mum would date guys. None of them cared about him, they’d tolerated him at best. Walsh was marginally better. But Killian was the first guy who really seemed to care about Henry as his own person, not just an extension of his mother. Honestly, he wasn’t sure why that meant so much to him.
But it did.
Henry let out a sigh, and before he could think, the words poured out of his mouth.
“I don’t want to go to college.” There is was. The cat was out of the bag. It was a relief in a way, like the pressure had been building and had finally been let out. Much to Killian’s credit, he didn’t react. “Don’t look so surprised,” Henry continued sarcastically.
Killian hesitantly reached an arm around Henry’s shoulders, “I will admit, lad, I did see this coming.”
Letting out a breath, Henry became very interested in the wood beneath him, running a nail through a grain in the red paint, “Does that mean my moms know too?” he asked, hoping he was wrong.
“Your mothers may know a lot about magic and the like, but I think you’ll find they can be a bit blind sometimes.” Henry let out a snort, “Especially when they’re both so excited for you at the moment.”
Henry felt his stomach drop with guilt. He was graduating near the top of his class, and he hadn’t stopped hearing about it. First it was his grandma, then she had told Emma, who had told Regina. And he was proud of himself, really. But all the fanfare and celebration had just made him feel worse about everything.
Killian seemed to catch onto his mood and quickly tried to cover up his mistake, “Not that that means they’re not going to understand how you’re feeling, lad.”
“Yeah. Right.” Henry replied shortly, hoisting himself up and moving towards the main mast. He didn’t look back, but could hear Killian follow him. He tried to be annoyed, but he couldn’t find it in him.
Everyone knew Killian didn’t give up on the people he loved.
The ropes that wrapped around the mast were complicated and interwoven with one another, twisting up the wood towards the rigging above them. He’d spent many days sitting on the deck between Killian and his mum, or even his grandpa, tying knots and untying them, just enjoying rare days of warm Maine weather. He was going to miss days like that.
“You know,” Killian began, voice cutting through the short silence, “when your father was on this ship he battled with questions similar to yours. What am I going to do with my future? What’s the right path? I doubt he would have imagined the story his life played out, but I also doubt he would have traded it for anything.”
Henry rolled his eyes at the pirate’s words, “What are you trying to say here, Killian?”
He felt a pressure on his shoulders and finally turned to face Killian. His eyes were full of sincerity, not the playful glimmer that usually lived in them. It was the look they got when Emma came home from the station, stressed and cursing the dwarfish population of the town.
“What I’m saying, Henry, is that you might not know what the ‘right’ thing to do is right now, but your story will find you.”
Sighing dramatically, he broke away from his stepfather and walked to look over the edge of the ship, “That’s what I’m saying, Killian.” he exclaimed, voice rising, “I need to find my story. And I don’t think it’s here in Storybrooke or at college...”
Killian interrupted, “Well, I know Belle always talked of travelling the world, maybe some of her things could give you some ideas, and I’m sure your mothers would be happy to let you…”
“Will you let me finish?” Henry said, throwing his arms up by his side, turning back to face Killian, who smartly shut his mouth and gestured for him to continue. “I don’t think it’s in this realm either.”
Silence settled over the pair for a good minute before Killian spoke again.
“I see.”
They held each other’s stare, and Henry could see the gears ticking away in Killian’s head. While he hadn’t counted on telling him everything like this, he had hoped of all people, Killian would be the most open to the idea. But his hesitancy was reason to doubt.
“Well, Emma and Regina may struggle a bit more with that kind of travel.”
Folding his arms stubbornly, Henry rolled his eyes, the picture of his mother. “They shouldn’t. It’s not really that different.”
Killian’s brows furrowed in concern. “I’m afraid it is, lad. There’s a whole other range of dangers in other realms, ones that are far less easy to deal with than taxes and bank loans.”
Looking at his feet, Henry scuffed his toes along the deck of the ship, the same one he’d cleaned as retribution for all sorts of things, like the time he and Violet had snuck out to see a movie.
“I’ve survived them before.” he replied, this time less confident, quieter. “I don’t know, Killian. I just,” he stopped to gather his thoughts, “I’ve spent my whole life around fairytale characters, reading their stories in that book. I want to be a part of that. I need to be, I know it.”
Over the last few years, Killian had been somewhat of a confidante to Henry, someone who was more than happy to pull pranks on his mum, who he could try risky sword fighting moves with and petrify everyone else with them afterwards. But every now and then, when his mothers were either too busy or just didn’t understand, he’d be there for comfort, for solace.
That was the Killian that was in front of him now. That was the Killian that reached out and pulled him into a hug, patting him on the back.
“I understand, lad. Truly, I do.” Henry did his best to hide his sniff. “And for what it’s worth, I think your mothers will to.”
Henry let out a wet laugh, pulling away from the hug but staying close enough for Killian to keep his hands on his shoulders, “I’m not saying they’ll understand right away, but they’ll come around.”
Then he came out with the big one.
“We all just want what’s best for you, Henry. What makes you happy. Whether that’s here, on the other side of the world, the Enchanted Forest or the bloody moon, we’ll learn to deal with it. As long as you’re happy.”
Looking into this man’s eyes, Henry was yet again stunned by how much they’d both changed. Never would he have thought the man he caught staring at his mother would become this ..
“Thanks, Killian,” he replied simply, not knowing what else to say. “Do you think you could be there when I tell everyone? So I have someone on my side, at least?”
Killian looked down to the deck, then back up at Henry through his dark fringe. “Aye, Henry. Anything.”
Before the moment could get even sappier, he turned away to return to his spot on the bow, only to be joined moments later. They sat in silence, both staring out into the water. Henry could understand what Killian got out of being on the water for so long; there was nothing better, more calming, than staring out at the waves.
“I’m going to miss you, lad,” Killian admitted softly. Without responding, Henry simply nodded.
There was nothing else to say.
43 notes · View notes