#Jazz wants to sleep without someone trying to kill her or her brother

[elizabethemerald]

The Child of Lazarus

Master Post

Talia often found herself admiring her Beloved’s dedication. While she personally considered Gotham a foul city that should be burned to the ground and the earth salted, she admired Bruce’s unending battle against the criminal elements of the city. He put his crusade in front of everything in his life, even his own life and health, and sometimes even his own children. Normally she would even admire his dedication to chasing after her, and considered it their own private romance as they danced among the rooftops. 

Now she found Bruce’s dedication to chasing her all the more annoying. He would follow her no matter where she was as long as she was in his city, and she absolutely could not risk him following her back to the Child of Lazarus she had found. He would be all too willing to adopt the boy and take him in, permanently taking another child from her. And no doubt ruin what could be the perfect killer if she understood the boy’s skills properly. 

It had taken her several weeks to lay a trail out of Gotham and away, to convince her Beloved that she had fulfilled her interest in her city and would not return until the next time she decided to check in on him and her son. Then she had to disappear. She utilized every ounce of her training with the League to vanish as thoroughly as possible and then sneak back into the city. Usually she allowed herself to be seen, to lure Bruce out for their usual confrontation and rooftop liaison, but this time she was all but invisible. 

Talia finally made it back to the burned out apartment building where she had first met the Child of Lazarus, Danny. She carefully snuck her way through the building, her approach made all the more difficult by the structural damage. She could barely hear the sound of someone playing on the floor above her as she crept forward. 

She had to use some creative climbing skills to get up to that floor, the stairs were completely destroyed. She could only imagine how her child got up and down regularly. Now that she’s closer, Talia could hear what sounds like the child explaining something, and for a second her heart grew colder, that someone had found her boy while she was gone, but she strained her ears and it sounded like he was explaining something to a doll in the way children are want to do. 

Talia crept into the room almost completely silently, yet the boy still looked up at her as she entered, his eyes shining with a familiar green light and a wide smile on his face. He waved at her, an old and slightly dirty teddy in his hands. She was about to greet him in turn when something cold and metallic pressed to the back of her head and she heard the whining hum of an energy weapon. 

How had another person managed to sneak up on her? She was the daughter of the Demon’s Head! The only small relief was seeing that her boy was unafraid and thus likely knew the mysterious person. 

“Jazzy! This is the woman I told you about! She wants to give me a sword!” Danny said, a wide smile on his face as he looked over Talia’s shoulder. 

“Who are you and what do you want with my brother?” A harsh, yet young voice said. Talia could read into the voice well enough. The voice belonged to a young woman, scared, and tired, but steady. If Talia had any interest in harming the boy she had no doubt she would not leave the room alive. 

“My name is Talia al Ghoul. I found Danny alone on a rooftop some weeks ago, and I was impressed by his skill with stealth. A skill you seem to share. I merely wished to cultivate this talent, to provide for him a safe place, and to prevent those with less savory intentions from harming him.” 

Talia didn’t take her eyes off the boy, and saw him watching her just as closely with his head tilted to the side. Once she was finished speaking he glanced to his sister and sent her a small nod. Interesting. Perhaps his hearing was superior to that of a regular human’s and he was listening to her heart beat. A skill that was useless against someone trained by the League of Assassins and had perfect control of her own body, but very useful in the fields she wished to train him in. 

She felt more than heard the young woman step back as the pressure from the gun left her head. She also took a few slow steps, keeping her movements clear and controlled. The woman before could easily be called beautiful, red hair that flowed down her back, taller than most men even and built like a fighter. If Talia didn’t know better she would assume the woman was an Amazon. The most important detail Talia can now see is the dedication in this woman’s eyes. More than even her Beloved, this woman is dedicated to her brother. She can see in an instant that she would do anything, even kill for him, and maybe already has. 

“I’m sure you want all that just out of the goodness of your heart.” She said derisively. 

Now, Talia could lie, with her training from the league she could lie and even the Supers wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. However, this wasn’t like her assassins who had been raised from birth to believe her word to be law, or with young Jason, whose mind was heavily altered from his experience in the Lazarus Pits. She would have to tread carefully at all times with this woman, so it was easier to tell her at least some truths. 

“By no means.” Talia allowed her body to relax as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “There is very little goodness left in my heart, long years and a hard world have taken much from me. Perhaps I merely consider the skills two of you already possess, that I wish to cultivate and grow, to be something of a retirement policy. There is no end to the value in training two such capable individuals as yourselves.” 

The woman watched her closely, her head tilting slightly to the side, just like her brother, though Talia wasn’t under the impression that she was listening for her heartbeat. However whatever she saw led her to relaxing her shoulders somewhat, though her aim still didn’t waver. 

“You are very hard to read. It's like everything about you is focused toward hiding.” She finally said, with a slightly confused tone to her voice. 

“Right?” Talia couldn’t stop her eyebrows rising in surprise as Danny floated into the air and darted to his sister’s shoulders, as if gravity were a mere suggestion, one he could simply ignore. “She’s unlike any of the others in the city. I mean, Red Hood is practically screaming how angry, scared and sad he is.” 

Talia did her best to retake control over her expression as she took in the information given her. Perhaps Danny and his sister shared some kind of empathic ability? She had no doubts about the veracity of his claims, she knew Jason had always been emotional, and his anger and fear from his death were written into every line of his body. Yet, for some reason, her own emotions were hidden. How fascinating. 

“I believe you’re telling me the truth, or at least as much of the truth as I’m going to get without beating it out of you.” Danny’s sister said, finally lowering her weapon, though she didn’t fully relax. “I’m Jasmine. Why would we want any of that? We could stay perfectly happy right here.” 

Talia glanced around at the burnt out wreck of a building Danny had been squatting in. 

“I could take you away from this… house. I could provide food, clothing, other supplies and just about any training you could wish for. We could leave this city and-”

“NO!” Jasmine said immediately. “Whatever else happens, we can’t leave Gotham.” 

Danny had landed next to her and hid partially behind her, his face marred by fear just like hers. Talia narrowed her eyes slightly as she looked quickly between the two? Why? What was so special about Gotham that they were not just defensive, but terrified to leave? Very curious. 

“Of course, if you want to stay in the city, then your stealth work would have to be flawless.” Talia said. “The Bat of Gotham keeps a close eye on his city. He doesn’t take kindly to interlopers. Or metas.” 

Danny started nodding happily at how defensive Talia’s Beloved was of his city, yet didn’t seem to take into account that he might be excluded because he is a meta, despite flying around his sister’s shoulders. Is there perhaps someone they are running from that they think Bruce will keep from them? These two were just filled with mysteries, she’ll have to send some of her agents out to see what they can discover. 

“More important than all of that! When are you going to teach me how to learn a sword?” Danny asked, once again hovering slightly into the air. Jasmine looked at him with fond exasperation. 

“Before any sword lessons we need to find some place cleaner to live.” She said, rubbing her brother's head and pulling him in with a one armed hug, though he still hovered a little off the ground. 

“I have several safe houses in the city, I’m certain one will be suitable for your needs, if you would like to follow me?” Talia offered, gesturing toward the door she had entered through. The siblings looked to each other for a moment, having a silent conversation that even with her perceptiveness she couldn’t catch, possibly linked to their shared empathic abilities? Then they finally turned to follow her out of the burned apartment building. 

#dp x dc #talia al ghul #jazz fenton #danny fenton #deaged danny #Talia wants to train them to best her father and the bat #Jazz wants to sleep without someone trying to kill her or her brother #Danny just wants a sword #Talia also has basically no idea whats going on and trying to make a puzzle with only like half the pieces

[angelz-dust]

masters of none - part 4 (jason todd x reader)

summary: after many months, we are back in action and back in reader’s head. pls enjoy these jason crumbs. if you need a refresher on the plot, the other chapters will be linked below!

word count: 3.7k

warnings: food/eating. alcohol. cursing.

part 1 /// part 2 //// part 3

gravity

ever since i ever felt ya, right there life couldn't seem better. tulip flowers in my sweater. ask me now, is this forever?

…

you rested your chin on the table before you, your arms hanging limply between your knees as you listened to your manager, dana. you were really just watching her mouth open and close while she pointed at a powerpoint. god, what you would've given for an extra hour of sleep. the all nighters in the studio were starting to take a toll. 

the feeling of the back of daisy’s soft hands brought you back to earth. the smell of cocoa butter dancing beneath your nostrils as her smooth engagement ring rolled across your cheek. you breathed in her smell, exhaling in content through your nose.

“you good?” she mouthed and you closed your eyes, giving her a little nod. the bassist rubbed her calloused fingers against your forehead, pushing strands of your hair past your hairline. you pouted when she eventually pulled away, leaving you only with the sensation of touch that once was.

you heard tyler shift in his seat and then felt some air graze against your hand. you looked under the table, noticing he was holding something out to you. you two made eye contact briefly before you scooted back in, grabbing what felt like an envelope. looking down at your lap, you saw a sticky note attached to it. jason’s money was what it said. you carefully put the envelope in your jacket pocket, sitting back in your seat now and looking at dana’s powerpoint. she was going over reports from your publicist, jerry, which you didn't particularly care about.

“now, i have to ask,” dana’s words pierced your bubble of inattention. “have you all thought about what i said about this next album?”

jordy raised his hand like a school kid. “yes?”

“y/n and i decided that we'd be okay with making our album a group project. it has been, admittedly, kinda hard and boring without everyone else. we’d honestly be doing ourselves a disservice by not doing it together,” jordy explained, dana clapping her hands together.

“wonderful,” she nodded, keeping her hands clasped. “i know you two were excited to do your own thing, but i was talking to jerry and he was really pressing me to get a group album from you guys. the people wanna see you guys as a unit of established artists, which you all are. so what's the concept? we never discussed it.”

“uh,” you verbally paused, raising your arms above your head to stretch. “disco, jazz, and funk. it's a mix of those.”

“retro is in right now,” dana nodded, pacing around the room. “how far back will this set us on a release date?”

you grimaced, leaning back in your seat, the back of the seat lightly bouncing as it absorbed your weight. you pondered the question for a moment. “if it’s gonna be a group thing, it'll have to be significantly longer. we have a decent starting off point but i'm gonna need way more songs now.”

“what about the rest of you? any tracks that we could swing?” dana asked, looking at the rest of the group. 

grabbing a pen and piece of scrap paper, you started jotting down notes as everyone spoke out to you. dex and quinton didn’t have anything, but they wouldn’t be a problem. you just needed to give them a beat to rap over and you’d be set. the twins had a finished song already that fit the concept, which was good. with tyler’s voice and aly’s excellent song writing abilities, you doubted very seriously that anything else needed to be done to it. daisy and hector had plenty of lyricless songs, too. funk and soul was their specialty, after all. misha even had a demo track she was willing to share. 

you looked over the notes you had taken, tapping your pen on the table as you hummed to yourself. “this could probably work. we’ll need to go over everything in the studio, though.”

“we should just do it now. no one is doing shit else today, right?” dex asked the group, who all shook their head. 

“i have a request,” you raised your finger, looking at dana. “i want gotham to be involved in this project.”

“gotham…” dana repeated slowly, unsure of what you meant. “care to elaborate?”

“music videos directed by student directors from gotham university, commissioning local artists for album art. dancers, actors, musicians, whatever. all of them have to be from gotham. i don't want any of the money we put into this project leaving this city,” you stated firmly, dana giving you a blank look. 

“i like that idea,” hector said, giving you a kind smile before turning to dana, shifting in his seat. the drummer was like a big brother, always backing you up in moments like these. “accessibility to the arts is really limited here and we should change that.”

“i’d rather give back to the city, too,” quinton agreed, playing with the gold cross hanging from his neck. “we’re one of the only groups in gotham known outside of gotham. we should use that as an opportunity to rep our city.”

“it sounds like you have your minds made up on this,” dana narrowed her eyes, letting out a sigh. “it would definitely be good PR.”

“because god forbid we do something out of the kindness of our hearts,” misha laughed, rolling her eyes. “we're trying to put the city on and you're worried about how it makes us look.”

“that's my job, misha. don't you want me to do my job?” dana retorted. “besides, i'm more concerned with the funding. you all don't have disposable income, believe it or not.”

“but i know someone who does,” she said with a singsong tone, giving you a look.

“i hope you're not referring to me,” you deadpanned. your income was far from disposable.

“i’m referring to our good friend, bruce wayne,” she explained, grabbing a business card out of her purse, handing it over to dana. “ever since i got invited to that charity gala, i've had a direct line to a representative with the wayne foundation. i say we ask them to help fund the project.”

“now that could work,” dana admitted, eyeing the card as she tapped her foot. “if we pitch for more youth involvement, it'll probably go over better. we all know how much bruce wayne loves saving the children.”

you frowned at how dana described bruce’s initiatives as a philanthropist. you were sure his motivations for favoring youth projects were good intentioned, considering his parents had been killed when he was just a little boy. you wanted to go into this good intentioned, too and you hoped that they'd agree. they being the wayne foundation and subsequently, bruce himself.

“ty and quinton could do something with forrester. if we’re going for the youth involvement route, i mean,” aly spoke up. 

“forrester correctional. our old stomping grounds,” quinton sighed wistfully as he patted tyler on the shoulder. “i think that would be a good idea.”

“they use the arts as an outlet for them, so it could be beneficial for everyone,” tyler nodded. “there are a lot of good kids there. just unfortunate circumstances, that’s all.”

“wasn’t one of bruce’s son’s a troublemaker before he was adopted?” aly continued, not noticing the look you and tyler shared. “i’m sure he’d probably be interested in doing something with them if his son comes from the same background.”

“it’s settled, then. you all keep working on the music. jerry and i will handle the rest. we need this album out before hector and daisy’s wedding,” dana said, grabbing her suitcase. 

…

hey, i have your money. did you still want it?

you stared down at the unsent message, your thumb floating over the send arrow. you hadn’t spoken to jason since that night after the race, as per his request. your mind kept wandering back to it, even as time still went on. what happened was scary, to say the least. fun, but scary. you wondered how the hell jason didn’t get the two of you killed. that part, you didn't want to think about too hard. everyone in gotham had their secrets and it was an unspoken rule amongst citizens to not pry. secrets were secrets for a reason. nothing good ever came from unearthing them.

speaking of secrets, you hadn't exactly told tyler and quinton what happened that night. not in detail. you conveniently left out the chase and stopping to get something to eat. omitting the first part was obvious, but the second one was for your own sanity. you didn't need them teasing you over nothing. besides, all that mattered was no one was dead or arrested. and for the way the three of you used to get down, that was a win. 

you considered texting jason earlier this week, just to check in on him, but you decided against it. he obviously wanted you to text him and you obviously had to do the opposite. his little mind game wasn’t going to work on you. you pressed send, frowning immediately as you did so.

maybe it already had.

“it’s too many people in this bitch,” dex sighed, the cold of the water bottle you had asked him for against your hand bringing you back to reality. blinking, you were suddenly very aware of the chaos surrounding you in the studio as you put your phone back in your pocket. you looked to your left, where jordy was leaning against the wall and scrolling through his phone. to your right was aly, who was scribbling in her songbook in the chair next to you. you remembered you were supposed to be working, too. “we need a new stu.”

“i’m working on it!” hector hollered from inside the booth as he and daisy were setting up equipment and instruments. you glanced up at the glass in front when you heard his voice, accidentally catching the pair share a little kiss. you quickly averted your gaze, smiling to yourself.

“new stu, new view, what it do?” quinton began to freestyle to a beat he was making on the coffee table in front of him. “off 92, posted up with southside crew.” 

“okay,” dex laughed, noddinh his head as he was vibing with the beat, making his way out of your line of sight. you heard someone, presumably tyler, join in and add some depth to the beat. it sounded like he was hitting a pencil against a shot glass.

“i got a new boo, but i’m tryna slide with misha, too,” quinton continued, dex adlibbing in the back as quinton lowered his voice to his signature melodic whisper. “on the low, nobody gotta know.”

“would you shut the fuck up?” you heard misha say, followed by a barrage of muffled smacking noises and verbal objections from quinton, who you assumed was on the receiving end of what sounded like an assault by pillow.

laughing to yourself, you leaned your head in aly’s direction, not fully facing her. “pass me the flash drive?” you held your hand out weakly. once you felt the plastic in your palm, you leaned back over and put it into the computer, pulling up the proper files. 

“we’re done back here,” daisy smiled at you, she and hector coming out from the booth. 

you clapped your hands together. “wonderful. everybody shut up, please.”

you pulled up the twin’s song and let it play, your eyes fixed on the colorful audio loops on the screen. the green ones were tyler’s vocals, the purple were aly’s. it looked like blue was reserved for instruments and red was any added sound effects or layered sounds. 

“you two sound really great,” jordy walked up behind aly’s seat, leaning against it as he swayed his head to the beat. 

“thanks. i wrote it with our mother in mind,” aly said, the words coming out of her mouth uncomfortably. you placed your hand on hers and gave it a little squeeze, which earned you a look of appreciation.

“it's missing something, though,” tyler scratched the back of his head. “i need the producer squad to give us some assistance.”

“oh, say less,” dex laughed, snapping his fingers to the beat with one hand and holding his glass of hennessy in the other. he danced his way over, taking aly’s seat as she, tyler and jordy moved to give you all some space. 

misha sauntered her way over, sitting against the table and flipping her hair over her shoulder. the smell of her sweet perfume floated in the air around you. “i think it just needs some fluffing up. some snapping might work. more vocal layering in certain spots.”

“i agree,” you nodded, dex letting out a satisfied sigh as he took a sip of his cold drink. 

“is it good?” misha asked him teasingly and he took his final swig, letting out a more dramatic and drawn out sigh. this time, though, it was on beat with the song. you were pretty sure it was unintentional on his part, since he and misha just shared a laugh before returning their attention to the screen.

after a moment of pondering, you swiveled around in your chair, looking at tyler. “okay, hear me out…”

…

two weeks of very diligent working between the nine of you had given you a lot to work with for the album. all that was left was to start putting things together. you still had a ways to go, but you had a good starting off point. as much as you hated to admit it, it was a good call on dana’s part to have you all do a group album. the fans seemed to be greatly anticipating the release and the work ethic the nine of you shared was incredible. even in that cramped little studio, you all made it work.

you all agreed to take the day off, but you were still working at some capacity. you had just traded one small space for another, working in your walk-in closet/home studio for the day. you still needed said walk-in to function as a closet, so there were still garment bags pushed up into a corner and shoe boxes haphazardly stacked, surrounding your desk that you had shoved in there. there was just enough space for you to move your chair and safely get out without twisting an ankle, a fate you often flirted with in that room.

in the spirit of your day off, you hadn't done anything too difficult. you were just trying to decide what order you wanted the completed songs to go in. it may seem like an insignificant detail, but the order was important. the transitions between songs couldn't be jarring for the listener. everything had to flow together with natural progression. at this point, it didn't matter since you weren't done with the album, but it was just giving you an idea of how to fill the gaps with future songs. 

the sound of your growling stomach indicated that it was time to stop for the day. you quickly saved all your work and headed to the kitchen. you popped some leftovers in the microwave and scrolled on twitter while you waited. the microwave beeped at you, so you set your phone back down and grabbed the bowl, mixing up the contents with your fork. the flash of light coming from your phone got your attention. a text notification.

are you home?

oh, so now he wanted to respond? cute.

despite your annoyance with the situation, you quickly responded with a yes and set the phone back down. you leaned against the counter, eating what little food you had in your reheated bowl. you mixed the contents around with your fork, grumbling. stupid jason and his stupid inability to text back. he could have at least had the decency to leave you on read. he probably didn't even have read receipts on. you weren't sure which was worse. tossing your now empty bowl into the sink, you grabbed your phone to read his next message.

i’ll be over soon. 

soon was very vague and you wished that you would've demanded an exact time, but that opportunity had passed by the time you thought about it. you busied yourself with tidying up, trying to make your place look presentable. you even lit your new candle, which you found yourself focusing your attention on while you waited for him to show up. staring at the flame was much more entrancing than you anticipated.

you heard the door buzzer go off. you weren't expecting anyone else, so it had to be him. you leaned against the wall, pressing your finger to the button.

“who goes there?” you presented the question as a joke, but your tone was a little flat.

“it’s the irs,” jason’s voice came through and you buzzed him in. 

not too long after, you heard him knock on the door. you cracked it open and the first thing you noticed was his cologne. it was a strong but pleasant scent. spicy and sweet. it was very intoxicating, actually. so much so that you almost forgot you were angry at him.

“hi.”

“hello.”

you opened the door fully and handed the envelope to him. jason eyed it suspiciously. he opened it up and began to count it out in front of you. he made an effort to do it very slow, the sound of the crisp dollars echoing in the quiet hall. his eyes stayed glued to yours as he counted out loud. you leaned against the doorframe as you watched.

“six… seven… eight,” he said, pulling out his wallet and stuffing it with the cash. “thought you would've skimmed some off the top.”

“i should have with how long you made me wait,” you said matter of factly, letting your annoyance be known now. 

“i know. i’m sorry,” he sounded honest but you couldn't see it in his face or in his eyes, which was worrisome. it was a nice alternative to listening to a sputter of excuses, though. “let me make it up to you?”

“how do you plan on doing that?”

“i’m so glad you asked,” he smiled. “as it turns out, i've recently come into some money. let me spend it on you?”

“so you like throwing money at your problems?” you asked him. well, you weren't really asking. it was more like you were telling him. 

“no,” he said, sounding a little offended. “i just thought-”

“you just thought that throwing money at me would make me forget about the fact that you ignored me for a month.”

“no, no,” he shook his head, sighing in frustration. “listen, i-”

“i really don't wanna hear it,” you said honestly, watching as his frustrated look turned into kicked puppy. you almost felt bad. “i don't like feeling stupid, jason. that's how i feel right now. i want you to make it up to me but you'll have to be a bit more creative than this.”

“you want me to make it up to you?” jason had repeated, confusion on his face. 

you poked him harshly in the chest. “you do that or you leave me alone. those are your options. goodbye.”

you shut the door in his face and let out the breath you were holding in. you weren’t sure how jason was going to react to your little ultimatum, but those were your terms. you liked him but you weren’t going to stress over someone you barely knew, especially with your assumptions about him floating around in your head. 

“i’ll be right back,” you heard him say through the door, catching you off guard. 

“what?”

“don’t go anywhere.”

you didn’t respond but you heard his footsteps getting quieter as he walked down the hall. the elevator ding indicated that he had left. you stood there, confused as to what it was he was trying to do. you were still stewing in your negative emotions, so you went and busied yourself again. you decided the dishes needed washing and got on it right away. in the middle of scrubbing the stubborn sauce stains out of your plate, you heard your door buzzer go off again. 

so he did come back after all. interesting.

you buzzed him in like you did before and waited by the door for him. he knocked and when you opened it, you were met with two gifts: a bouquet of pink tulips and a small box of something from the bakery around the corner. 

“i shouldn’t have ignored you. it was rude and stupid and i’m sorry. it won’t happen again,” he said to you, holding out the items to you. you hesitantly accepted them, taking the opportunity to look through the plastic opening of the box to see chocolate covered strawberries. 

“it better not happen again,” you pouted, looking up at him. you had to appreciate the effort he put in at such short notice. it was a sweet gesture and he actually looked sorry this time. 

“it won’t,” he assured you and you smiled.

“i forgive you. but you’re on thin fucking ice,” you reminded him and he grinned at you with a nod.

“i’m going to make it up to you. just you wait,” he said confidently. “not all of us are naturally creative like you, though. you gotta give me some time to think of something else.”

“seems like you’re getting your feet wet with the flower selection,” you noted, taking a whiff of the delicate and fresh scent. they’d look nice on your coffee table.

“lady at the shop said they would convey my sincerest apologies,” he explained, a hopeful look in his eyes. “did it work?”

“for now,” you shrugged, setting the items down on the table next to the door. 

“i can accept that.”

“you’re gonna have to because that’s all i’m giving you,” you said firmly. his charm wasn’t going to get him out of this one. not completely. “now go away. i want to eat my berries in peace.”

“i’ll text you as soon as i get the chance,” he told you as you were shutting the door. you peered at him, narrowing your eyes before shutting it again. “i’m serious!”

“goodbye, jason!” you said through the door. you heard his faint farewell as you walked away, plopping on the couch with your dessert in hand.

were you still a little mad at him? yes. but you weren’t going to pass up free stuff, even if you had made all that fuss about the money earlier. at least the gifts had some thought behind them. so long as he held up his end of the deal, you had a feeling being friends with jason wouldn’t be that bad.

hopefully, anyway.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dc x reader #jason todd #red hood

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas - Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Brother!Parker Holland x Sister!Rosie Holland, Ex!Rosie Holland x Ex!Henry Osterfield

-Warnings: Fighting, Language, Angst (always), Heartbreak, Typos

-Words: 4.3K

Author note: Who else is the mom of their friend group? By the way, who can hear my California accent in my typing? Lol. Feel free to leave comments or message me directly your feelings while reading the chapter. Always love hearing from you guys. Chapter 9: Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting

Words: 4.3K

Every part of Rosie was recovering, except her broken heart. She had tried to call Henry a few times. It was weird how someone could be such a big part of her life one moment and the next he was a ghost.

Rosie wasn’t the only thing broken in the Holland household. You and Tom were going through a rough patch. Neither of you had spoken to each other for longer than 5 minutes, Tom was still sleeping in the guest room and he refused to come clean. Still letting you believe he cheated on you.

Mornings before school hadn’t been the same. Tom would try to hide the fact he was sleeping in the guest room before the kids came down but it was no use.

“Dad, did you sleep in there?” Parker asked as he saw the unmade bed in the guest room.

“Yeah, no need to worry, your mom and I are fine,” Tom reassured his son. Tom was lying to his son and himself. He didn’t know how to fix this. He had really fucked up.

You had started to become a ghost. Nobody would see you for most of the day. It baffled you that after countless years of marriage, Tom could be so careless. You were aware of his moral code and felt that you never needed about infidelity.

One night Parker and Rosie had devised a plan, almost like a parent trap. They set up a nice candlelight dinner in garden. It was a picture perfect date night only if Tom and you weren’t fighting. Rosie and Parker tasked themselves for both sneaking you out there, knowing if you knew Tom would be there you’d probably throw something at him.

“Surprise!” shouted both Parker and Rosie as you removed you hands from your eyes.

“Oh, how beautiful. Yay, I get to have dinner with my kids,” you exclaimed.

“Actually, we aren’t joining you,” Rosie said as Tom came out of the shadows.

“I am your date tonight and always,” Tom said.

“Kids, this is sweet and all but, I’m just going to go lay down. I suddenly have a headache,” you explained, not ready to face Tom.

“Y/N will you please talk to me,” Tom begged.

“Why don’t you go talk to your fucking mistress, Tom.”

“Who? I never cheated on you,” Tom asserted, confused he thought you were mad about Henry and Rosie.

“Save it Tom. Parker overheard you on the phone meeting her at the Savoy.”

“What? Oh you mean, Jazz?”

“I’m surprised there’s only one.”

“Don’t fucking do that. She was my informant. She’s dead now.”

“What and that’s supposed to make feel better?”

“Y/N, just listen to me.”

“Is this your way of getting back at me? For Rosie and Henry? Not telling you? Cause I can’t believe you’d do such a thing.”

“Y/N, just sit down and have dinner with me. Please,” Tom exclaimed, you could hear the desperation in his voice.

“No. Good night everyone. Tom, hope the couch is comfortable,” you said, walking away.

“Sorry dad, we tried. What happened between you two anyway?” Rosie said, looking at the ground lowly.

“It’s alright. I loved the gesture. So what are we having?” Tom said, as he pulled out the chair and sat down all ready for this wonderful meal.

“Oh, you’re still going to eat without mom?” Parker asked.

“Hell yeah, don’t want all this food to go to waste,” Tom remarked.

“Oh, ok. I was going to go and do homework,” Rosie said.

“You go, Roo. I’ll stay will dad,” Parker announced.

“Parker, I have to make sure you know I never cheated on mom,” Tom said, trying reassure his son.

“Dad, I know what I saw… But if you say you didn’t, I believe you. You are a man of your word. I was sorry to hear about Jazz too.”

“Thank you.”

Tom was stuck. How could he make it up to you, if you wouldn’t as much as look at him? With all the worries concerning Rosie, he had forgotten of a trip he planned for you and him awhile ago. It was the annual trip to Barcelona to facilitate the company’s exportations, you’d always tag along. It was your one romantic vacation with your husband, but this time Tom had tainted it with his betrayal and lies.

This trip was going to be the longest time you and him had been together in a week. Your main focus had been Rosie, then Parker and then yourself and lastly patching things up with Tom. You had both argued in the past but, Tom hasn’t been in the doghouse since you were pregnant with the twins. Even then, it wasn’t the doghouse, he was just giving you space because of how uncomfortable pregnancy was making you.

You didn’t like being apart from him. He was your husband, your better half. This separation was killing you as much it was killing him. Rosie had recuperated but, lately you had been having nightmares of losing your children. It killed you, every time you would see one of them fighting for lives in a hospital or dark alley. You always knew the dangers of the mob so you understood Parker will just learn to be more careful but Rosie’s car accident was merely an accident. Not a ploy orchestrated by a rival mob, it was an accident. How could you protect your kids all the time if there was no one to blame?

Even when Tom would come home battered and bruised, your world would stop turning. He was your world, he was everything. Everything you had was because of him, especially your kids. Anytime when someone threatened to take Tom away from you, you would just break. It is hard to imagine a world without him.

This time is different though, you are begging him to give you space. You understand the insaneness of mind, you want him to explain but you won’t give him the chance to talk to you. Maybe being on the trip together will force you to acknowledge him.

It was a typical morning, you and Tom were supposed to leave in a few hours for Barcelona.

“Kids, grandma and grandpa are going to stay with you while we are away,” you said.

“Your mom and I have some a business to attend to in Barcelona,” interjected Tom.

“Why? What’s in Barcelona?” Rosie questioned, she was aware of your annoyance with Tom, everyone was.

“That’s grown up stuff, sweetie. Maybe a second honeymoon.” Tom said as you rolled your eyes.

“Since when do we need babysitting?” Parker piped up.

“Since you guys have proven that you can’t be left alone, grandma and grandpa are here to babysit you to make sure you don’t throw any parties,” you explained as a look of regret etched itself onto Parker’s face.

“Aren’t you and dad fighting?” Rosie queried.

“At the moment we are just disagreeing on a few things. This is purely business, ok?” You exclaimed, your last statement directed at Tom.

“I love you both so much. Be good for grandma and grandpa,” you grinned, kissing both of their foreheads before you left. And with that your vacation to hell started. Why were you and Tom fighting, is it because no one wants to admit they're wrong? Only god knows. Deep down you hoped this trip would bring you two back together.

Parker drove Rosie to school that morning, she had been going for only two days since the accident. She had yet to run into Henry. Rosie didn’t know how she would act. How could she see the boy who broke her heart everyday?

Rosie met up with her two school friends Jenna and Brooke. They had been friends since 5th grade but, their relationship mostly stopped at school. Once in a while they would hangout outside of school or have a sleepover. Rosie’s real best friend was Henry. He was the one she would share good news with or funny memes. Nobody at school really knew about the accident, a few people noticed she wasn’t there but it wasn’t like when Charlotte died. Rosie wasn’t as popular as Charlotte and she didn’t need to be, high school hierarchies are overrated anyway.

“So where were you for like a week?” Brooke asked.

“Oh, umm… I was… skiing,” Rosie answered, debating if she tell her friends the truth. Knowing only rumors would circulate because of it.

“Oh. Parker was here. I thought it’d be a family trip.” Jenna remarked.

“What’s with your obsession with my brother?” Rosie questioned. She knew of Jenna’s school-girl crush on Parker, it started back in grade school.

“Nothing, he’s just.. insanely hot,” Jenna responded, drifty into a trance. Possibly imaging his dreamy brown eyes.

“Ew, Jen. That’s my brother” Rosie exclaimed, trying not to gag.

“Whatever. So how’s it going with you and Henry?” Jenna persisted.

“We broke up.”

“Oh, Rosie. I’m so sorry,” Brooke and Jenna said at the same time, trying to comfort Rosie.

“It’s ok. It’s not like I loved him or anything we were only dating for like two months” Rosie responded, trying not to cry. RING the bell sounded

“Oh, that’s the bell. I’ll see you guys after class,” Rosie said, waving goodbye. She quickly turned to walk to her algebra class but something or someone stopped her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I should watch where I’m going,” she said as she picked up her fallen books. Still oblivious to the person standing before her.

“It’s quite alright, Roo,” Henry spoke.

“Henry… I-I gotta go” Rosie mumbled, surprised he was standing in front of her. Oh, what she’d do to get to hold that boy once more. But he’s the one who broke up with her. He left her. Why is she letting a stupid boy bring her to tears?

Because he’s not some stupid boy. He’s Henry. The boy who made sure to always bring her Hershey kisses when her period would come around. The lovable best friend who made her feel loved and wanted.

Rosie needed that almost as much as she needed air to breathe. She was ready to forgive him in that moment if he would take her back. Only if he wanted her back.

“Please, can I talk with you?” Henry asked.

“No, I have nothing to say to you and don’t want to hear what you have to say,” she muttered, walking away and not turning back.

Rosie quickly rounded the corner and slammed her back against the wall. Sliding down to where her knees were in her chest, trying to hide her tear stricken face. Parker was on his way to bathroom when he saw her, sitting on the ground in the deserted hallway.

“Rosie, what’s wrong?” Parker asked, seeing her tears.

“I just saw Henry,” Rosie said with her voice cracking.

“Hey, why don’t we go get some coffee. I’ll let you be basic this one time and order an iced caramel macchiato. Come on my treat.”

“What about school?” Rosie sniffled.

“I guarantee you they won’t miss us. Let’s go home. They’ll understand.”

“Ok, but I’m getting the largest size they have,” Rosie asserted.

“Alright, Roo,” Parker said, chuckling while he helped her up. Parker felt like a bad brother lately. The last nice words he said to her was when she was in her coma and most likely couldn’t hear him. He was taking a play from Tom, when Tom knows he screwed up he showers you with gifts. This was Parker’s version of that, taking Rosie to get some coffee and maybe a cupcake.

Later at home, Dom and Nikki were already there. Parker was kind of annoyed he had to be babysat but in your and Tom’s defense, he did throw a party that last time you were out of town.

“Grandma! Grandpa!” Called out Rosie as she came through the door. Rosie will always be a kid at heart with a fiery passion.

“Oh, there’s my flower and my peanut,” Nikki returned. Those were her pet names for Parker and Rosie. “Peanut” because even though Parker was older he was slightly smaller than Rosie when he was born. And “flower” because of her name.

“What are you guys doing home?” Asked Nikki.

“Oh, umm they let us out early,” Parker remarked quickly, not trying to raise any further questions.

“Did you ditch?” Dom questioned.

“Uh, yeah. Don’t tell mom and dad, please,” Rosie mumbled.

“Alright, only because now I get to spend more time with my kiddos,” Nikki exclaimed.

Nikki and Dom were definitely more prevalent in the twins lives when they were younger. When Tom had just taken over the mob, Nikki and Dom would spend every hour of the day with Rosie and Parker. Always taking them to the park, museums or plays. You think that is where Rosie got her love for theatre from. You also had an influence in that, you’re kind of a sucker for show tunes.

Their role in the twins lives fizzled out over the years. Nikki and Dom who are now both retired, traveled more than anything. But their place in Parker and Rosies’ heart remained the same.

They all decided to order pizza for dinner, something quick and easy. And none of them wanted to be formal so they ate on the couch and watched The Sound of Music. It was Rosie’s turn to pick, so of course it was a musical.

They were all about to turn in for the night when Nikki called for her husband. She didn’t say honey, darling or love or his full name, Dominic. She called out his nickname, Dom.

“Dom, did you lock the door?” Nikki called out.

“Yes, sweetheart. Now, kids make sure you brush your teeth. Good night everyone,” Dom said as he made his way to the guest room.

That was it, a three letter name Nikki had called Dominic. Parker’s mind flooded with thoughts from the night he overheard you and Tom talking in his office. “No, Dom. He arranged the hit,” those words replaying in his head. If it was his grandfather who gave up his location, why was he betraying Tom?

Parker was a bright kid but, not one for connecting the dots. The last couple weeks of his life had been devoted to get back at Tom. He knew working for Wilson would give Tom a heart attack right on the spot. But, it was never Tom who arranged the hit or had his men pull the trigger. It was his grandfather, Dom Holland.

He knew Dom’s full name, Dominic, but never made that connection. How stupid could he be? Never in a million years would he think someone who he looked up to, could inadvertently brought so much destruction to his life. Dom was someone Parker trusted. How could Dom be so devious and betray his own grandson?

Parker didn’t just lose Charlotte that night, he lost his innocence. That was the first time Parker actually thought he was going to die. He felt like he was dying, being beaten up to within an inch of his life. Parker was just realizing the gravity of what he had done in a desperate attempt to make Tom pay. Parker was doing the same thing to Tom, Dom did to him.

Parker was entrusted by his dad, given the skills to kill and yet he had been betraying him. Taking out all his men and Jazz. “Oh, Jazz” Parker thought, he even said sorry to Tom for her death. What could Parker do now? This whole time he believed he was killing for sake of mercy but in truth it was for sport.

Parker had to confront Dom, he needed to know the truth. So that’s exactly what he did, but waited till morning breakfast.

“So, how’s working for your dad going?” Dom inquired with his mouth stuffed with bacon and eggs.

“Fine. Things have been put on hold with Rosie’s accident and all,” Parker replied, his feelings were conflicted. He didn’t know who to believe.

“That’s it? I want details.”

“Have you had your first kill yet? How’d it feel?” Dom pestered on.

“Yeah. I’m only doing this to avenge my girlfriend, Charlotte. She was killed a few months ago,” Parker said, trying to get Dom to fall into his trap.

“Yeah, I heard about that. I bet it was sad. Well, you are here now, that’s all that matters. You’re truly a part of the family,” Dom said, raising his glass of orange juice to toast.

“I know you used to work for the mob, so could you maybe help me find her killer. Well I already found the guy and gave him a few licks, but I want the guy who orchestrated the hit,” Parker exclaimed.

“I don’t know, kid. I’d stop looking if I were you. Seems like this guy covers his tracks.”

“I know it was you. I know you were the one who gave up my location. I’m not going to hit you or anything but, I need to know why,” Parker said, his voice completely changing its tone.

“Think of it as an encouragement. You needed something to get your foot in the door of the mob and she was it.”

“God, this fucking family. It’s so twisted. News flash grandpa, I’m the fucking traitor. I’ve been working for Angus Wilson. I’m the one taking out all of Tom’s men,” Parker screamed.

“What? Why would you do that?” Dom questioned, growing more furious by the minute. How could Tom raise a traitor?

“Because I thought it was Tom who called for the hit on me and Charlotte. Then I find out it’s you,” Parker bellowed.

“Parker, calm down.”

“A little part of me died the night she died. Don’t you get that? I was a normal kid and now I’m a mobster.”

“You were never a normal kid. You were always going to be the next Holland to run the mob.”

“I NEVER WANTED TO BE! I never wanted to be part of the mob. Now once my dad finds out I killed his men and Jazz, I’m dead. And once Wilson finds out I’m quitting I’m dead,” Parker screamed.

“Tom, won’t hurt you. I promise. Can’t say the same about Wilson. But I can help you, Parker. When Tom gets back we will talk to him together ok?” Dom assured only to be returned with a nod from Parker.

Parker had his chance to kill the man who got his girlfriend killed and his grandpa in cold blood, but didn’t take it. Parker didn’t want anymore blood on his hands. Having Dom on his side was Parker’s only possible way out from Tom’s thumb. Dom could’ve killed Parker right then and there too. But both of them had fucked up. Both their actions had already cost too many lives. So they joined forces, hoping Tom wouldn’t react the same when he got back.

It was the weekend and Rosie was looking forward to just relaxing all day and doing nothing. Maybe a puzzle with Nikki or watching another movie. Seeing Henry at school really set her back in her getting over him process. The first few days she wallowed. Not at home but in a hospital bed. She cried and cried until she couldn’t cry anymore and you were there to comfort her.

Once she came home from the hospital she wallowed some more. Watching romantic comedies with you in your room as you both ate tubs of ice cream. You wouldn’t let yourself show it but you were heartbroken about Tom’s supposed infidelity.

Next, Rosie cleaned out anything that reminded her of Henry. The outfit she wore on their first date was trashed. Along with a teddy bear he had given her when she sprained her ankle in the 3rd grade. Also the silver H and R necklace that he had given her. She couldn’t bring herself to throw it away, so she gave it to Parker. She said “I don’t care what you do with it. I just don’t want it anymore.” Parker took the necklace, totally planning to give it back to her once things blew over.

Now Rosie was finally accepting her breakup. The process of getting over a relationship is similar to the 5 stages of grief. She barely bargained, if he didn’t want to be with her she wasn’t going to beg him to take her back. Rosie knew her worth. Denial didn’t really affect her either, she was mostly confused that he broke up with her straight out of her coma.

That left her with anger. God, she was so angry. What kind of jackass breaks up with someone once they’ve been in a coma? Seriously, like what the fuck? Also depression which never really goes away. She will always be sad, that he pulled the plug on their relationship. Lastly, acceptance. Rosie had accepted it but, will never understood what happened.

All the Henry sightings, started to put her back at square one. I didn’t help when Henry came to the house.

“Henry, what the fuck are you doing here?” Parker asked as opened the door to his somewhat estranged best friend.

“I heard your parents are out of town. Can I talk to Rosie?” Henry pleaded.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. But, she did give me this, to give to you.” Parker said holding out the one thing that symbolized their love for one another, her necklace. Henry, just took the necklace and walked away. He felt so awful inside.

“Who was that?” Rosie asked, standing behind him.

“No one,” Parker responded.

“It was Henry, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, I told him you didn’t want to see him”

“Thanks,” Rosie mumbled, in truth she wanted to see him and talk to him but it was too hard.

“Of course, Roo,” Parker replied.

“Oh, not you too. I hate that nickname,” Rosie remarked.

“Why it reminds me of a baby kangaroo,” Parker joked.

“Exactly. That’s the reason why. It’s for a baby and sounds like kangaroo,” Rosie explained.

“Whatever. Mom and I like it so, too bad.” Parker said.

“Hey, I need to talk to you.” Rosie interjected.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Parker responded.

“Why are you sneaking out? I can hear you from outside my window.”

“Oh, I just… I go to the library,” he said, hesitantly.

“At 10:30 at night?” Rosie was skeptical of his remark.

“Yeah, I have a study group that only… meets at night.”

“Parker, I have seriously never seen you study. I can’t believe you won’t tell me where you are going every week. Do you remember what keeping secrets has done to this family? Mom and dad might get divorced!” Rosie exclaimed.

“Roo, you know that won’t happen. If I tell you, you have to promise to keep it a secret,” Parker only trying to comfort Rosie. He was scared to that you and Tom won’t work it out, you’d never fought in the past.

“Ok… Is it some girl?”

“No, I did something really stupid Roo. It was all part of my plan to get back at dad.”

“Why? What did dad do?” Rosie questioned, very concerned.

“Nothing. I’m the idiot here. I got myself hired by dad’s rival mob and I’ve been the traitor dad is looking for,” Parker said, scared of what this mistake will cost.

“Oh my god, Parker. What the fuck are you going to do?”

“I don’t know but Dom said he’d help me… I mean grandpa.”

“Okay… You know if you need anything, I’m always here.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for not telling anyone,” Parker thanked.

“Of course, you’re my twin brother. Almost an exact copy of my DNA, if I can’t have your back then what’s the point,” Rosie said, awarding a chuckle from Parker.

Parker’s days of living a double life were fleeting. You and Tom were set to return today. After a hopefully decent holiday. Parker was just glad Dom would be there to hold Tom back. Parker knows how enraged Tom can get.

T-minus 3 hours til he had to face Tom. Only 2 more class periods standing between him and involuntary rage. Parker and Rosie were in their English class when the loud speaker sounded.

“Will Parker and Rosie Holland please report to the principal’s office. I repeat, Parker and Rosie Holland please report to the principal’s office.”

They swiftly made their way out of their classroom. Dumbfounded to why they were called in the first place. Neither Parker nor Rosie had done anything bad in quite sometime.

“Uncle Harry? Uncle Sam? What are you two doing here?” Rosie questioned. Opening the door to the principal talking to their uncles, Harry and Sam Holland.

“Wait… you haven’t seen the news?” asked Harry.

“No. Why? What’s going on?” Parker speculated. The office admin had turned their small TV to channel 4 for the latest update.

“BREAKING NEWS. A Holland Exportation and Luxuries helicopter has just gone missing. The private helicopter departed from Barcelona this morning. I’m getting word that both Tom Holland, CEO of Holland Exportation and Luxuries, and his wife, Y/N Holland, were on the helicopter. There is no sign of the helicopter, we will continue to update you as this story unfolds,” announced the news anchor.

The room turned dead silent. Tears managed to escape from Rosie’s eyes and Parker pulled her into his arms. Trying to comfort her the best he can, even when he was a mess. The two people that were constant in their lives, their parents, were missing. Nothing was more important, except finding you and Tom.

Guns, Glamour, Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom #mob!tom x reader #mob tom #mob!tom #mob!tom holland #dad!mob!tom holland #mob!tom x mob!reader #mob!tom holland x reader

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

WATCH THIS FIRST TRUST ME: Taylor Tomlinson On Growing Up Religious & Abstinent | CONAN on TBS.

Five, trying to explain to Lila why joining their family is a terrible mistake that she will surely regret for the rest of her life no matter how similar she may be to them in spirit: I love my siblings, because I am an adult, I’m a grown-up, yeah -

Five: My siblings, grown-up men and women, say things like

Five: “UGH. I hate my brother.” And I’m like

Five: What are you, four? (The age, not the number, we all know Klaus loves all of us, we’re not idiots.) (Well, mostly.) Nobody got enough hugs, hug yourself, walk it off.

Five: People who hate their families have unrealistic standards; they think families are made up of these superior beings, and they’re not!

Five: They’re just people, who suck, like the rest of us! That’s how we should introduce them, just like

Five: “These are my people! Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Ben, and Vanya! They do what they can.”

Five: Set the bar low. Have you realized that your family messed you up yet?

Five: Yeah, you find a strange dent in the back of your head, you’re like

Five: “What happened there?” They’re like

Five: “We did our best, that’s what happened there. You were slippery, so.”

Five: You ever have this happen to you as an adult, where you realize your family messed you up based on how other people react when you tell them stories about your childhood?

Five: Stories you thought were fine, cause when you’re a kid you’re stupid?

Five: You’re just like, *does a stupid little dance* “Everybody gets tied in the yard!” Like, you don’t know!

Five: Fast forward ten years you’re at a barbeque, everyone’s goin’ around swappin’ stories like

Five: “Oh my god, my mom was crazy. She used to make us take our shoes off in the house!”

Five: And you’re like, *fake high-pitched laugh* “I know! We wore muzzles at night!”

Five: *keeps laughing hysterically* What happened, why’d everyone get sad? What is it?

Five: *completely serious once again* My siblings are cool. My dad, not so much.

Five: My dad’s very conservative, he still thinks gay people shouldn’t be allowed to get married, which

Five: You’re gonna be real disappointed, buddy, cause all a your kids are gay. Seriously. Allison and Luther are datin’ Ray, Vanya’s got a girlfriend named Sissy - okay well you’d love her name I’ll say that much - Diego and Ben are both mooning after Klaus and Klaus is, well, Klaus. Plus there’s me, and I don’t feel any a that cause I’m lucky, and also I’m not your perfect little girl Dad, never was because I’M A BOY anyway back to the matter at hand

Five: I don’t know, you ever hear older people say stuff and you’re like

Five: “Oh, someone missed a software update!” Like that’s not, can’t just say that anymore.

Five: *spacing out* Out loud.

Five: We’re in a Target. Be quiet.

Five: *back to full-blown peppiness*

Five: It’s crazy! He tortured all of us for eighteen years, and the whole time, he was like

Five: *creepy old man voice* “Homosexuality is a sin.”

Five: And we’re like

Five: “Without homosexuality, you would not have a job. Us sparkly teens put food on your table, don’t bite the jazz hand that feeds you.”

Five: Growing up, he encouraged us to abstain from drugs, and alcohol, and sex, and enjoyment, and we really took all of that to heart, uh.

Five: I mean, Klaus is a recovering addict, Diego smokes weed to sleep, Ben is dead and therefore does whatever the fuck he wants, I’ve drunk more alcohol than there is on the whole ass earth and I know that because I drank every bottle I ever came across in the apocalypse, Allison and Vanya both smoke, I don’t know why, really only Luther followed all the rules and then he got all depressed because Dad sent him to the moon or whatever so now he’s all fucked up too, anyway -

Five: But it’s so easy to mess kids up, I have a lot of respect for my mother - not my father, he was a piece of shit - even babysitting -

Five: I just babysat my siblings, I was so nervous about it, I’m like

Five: “I don’t wanna mess these kids up. (Well, more than they already are.)”

Five: So I’m just gonna do everything myself, and I’m not gonna talk to them.

Five: And everything’ll be fine.

Five: So I go off to do my thing. My siblings, they’re idiots, adorable, they come running after me five minutes after I show up and go

Five: “Hey Five, what was the apocalypse like?”

Five: What? How do I explain severe isolation, desperation, desolation, depression, and survivalist coping mechanisms including assassination and imaginary friends to these children?

Five: How I even begin to explain the pain of loss and loneliness and the helpless hopelessness of knowing you will always be alone and that there’s nothing you can do about it?

Five: It’s complicated! I time-travelled, they died, I was sad, like, whatever, you get it.

Five: But I wanted to be honest, so I thought about it carefully, like

Five: What was the apocalypse like that’s similar to something they’ve done? Like, okay

Five: “Do you remember when you got lost at the grocery store? That was scary, right? But then do you remember the feeling you got when you finally found one of us? How safe and happy and relieved you were? And how you ran up to whoever you found and you grabbed their arm and then you looked up and it wasn’t one of us?”

Five: *takes a sip of scotch* Yeah. Not my best moment. They wouldn’t let me sleep alone that night, all cuddled up around me like a bunch a octopuses. Fuckin’ annoying.

Five: *waves a dismissive hand* Anyway. I love them. You still wanna join the family?

Lila:

Lila:

Lila:

Lila: *slowly shakes her head*

Five: *grins*

Five: Yeah, that’s what I thought. Thanks for killing your mom for us though!

Five, teleporting away: Bye!

Lila:

Lila:

Lila:

The Handler’s ghost: You need to get better taste in men.

#source: taylor tomlinson #obviously #i'm not even sorry anymore guys #just #this is our life now and we all have to deal with it #tua #the umbrella academy #the hargreeves #the hargreeves siblings #but if lila joined the family #aka apocalypse numero tres #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #lila pitts #the handler #enjoy this fuckers #have a nice day y'all #bye ✌

[gladly-be-the-good]

"Hi I'm Boyd, a definitely real boy! Do you want to see the lab?" Danny raised an eyebrow as his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Suuure." Jazz smiled widely at the little boy bot and said, enthusiastically,

"We'd love to!" Boyd reached out for their hands. Jazz took his immediately while Danny shoved his hands in his pockets. Boyd didn't seem too discouraged, so Gyro wouldn't eject the moody teen from his lab, yet.

As soon as they were in another room Boyd started taking.

"This is where Dr. Gearlose first thought up the Gizmoduck armor! He made it as a tool to help around the lab, but then Dr- um, I mean, someone totally random that I definitely don't know and love, nailed it, wanted to help people all over duckburg, and beyond!"

"So he's a good person then? Not someone who would be upset with another superhero reaching out to him?" Jazz asked.

This little boy was clearly incapable of subterfuge, so his goodness was genuine. She could trust him as much as she could trust any other sweet ten year old.

"Oh yes! He loves when he gets to work with other heroes! He needs breaks sometimes and is happy for any help he can get."

"Is he someone that would approve of, I don't know, magic or ghosts or underaged superheroes?" Boyd smiled at her, taking her words at face value even as Danny, who had been listening carefully, shot them both incredulous looks.

"You've never met Mr. McDuck before have you? He employs Gizmoduck and he has a ghost butler! And a niece that used to be a spirit and is entirely magic. We even have an intern here who is.... I don't actually know, but he's really nice too! And as far as thinking kids can't be heroes, he wanted me to be one! And he works with Darkwing who has a sidekick that's twelve. Here at McDuck enterprises, we follow rule 53 in the Junior woodchuck guidebook! Greet the unknown with an open mind and an open heart."

"Wow. You people are basically perfect aren't you?" Danny asked sarcastically. He didn't like where Jazz was going with this and he really didn't need a little kid, who obviously couldn't lie to save his life, knowing a secret that would get Danny killed. Or, more killed, at least.

"Oh no, nothing is perfect. Even machines are flawed."

"So Boyd, tell me about Dr. Gearlose?" Jazz interrupted, a nervous lilt in her voice.

"Dr. Gearlose is amazing!" Boyd exclaimed, spinning in a circle with his arms above his head. Danny swore he saw a rainbow in the background. "It's a secret, so don't tell him please, but I like to call him Dr. Dad."

"He's your dad?"

"Well I don't exactly have a dad, but he was the one who created me so- I mean, in the way that all kids, are, created, dude?" Little bulb smacked his head, the sound of metal hitting glass was the only sound in the room as Jazz and Boyd both looked nervously at Danny, though Boyd was looking at Jazz too.

Poor, sleep deprived Danny, who had grown up with awkward Tucker as a best friend, just blinked slowly and said,

"So, are we gonna learn about any of the science stuff here or just your family?"

"Oh! Yes! Those two things are definitely separate things! Over here we have, uh, no that's for Gizmoduck, but this upgrade is-! Oh, no, that's for me, me phone! Yup. Me phone. Ha ha hahahaha. I'm a definitely real boy!!" The kid started shaking and looked so stressed.

Jazz big sister mode: activated.

"Boyd, come here." He ran to her without hesitation. She hugged him and said, "I know you're a robot-"

"He's a what?!"

"And we don't care. Do we Danny?" Jazz emphasized her messing with a sharp glare. Danny raised his hands in submission.

"Nope. Totally cool with the robot boy. I'm just surprised."

"How? How are you surprised by this? When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

"Oh come on, Tucker pretended he was secretly a robot for nine months when we were kids."

"You, aren't scared?" Jazz cooed and held Boyd tighter.

"How could anyone be scared of someone so sweet?!"

"A lot of people used to think I was bad, a lot of people still do. Even Dr. Gearlose was worried I was going to hurt people, that that's all I could do." This was a story Danny knew all too well. He looked away and scuffed his shoe against the floor.

"So, what changed?"

"I don't know, actually. One second my programming is being overwritten to terrorise the world, the next I'm being held." Danny moved his hands out of his pockets so he could cross his arms tightly against his chest.

"And you've never worried about, I mean, the guy's a scientist, robotics especially, aren't you worried he'll open you up one day to, to see what's inside? Or break you down for spare parts?' Boyd rubbed his chin.

"I, never thought about that before. I don't think he would, because he loves me. But maybe..." Boyd's chin started to wobble. "What, what If I disappoint him? What if I hurt somebody on accident and I'm too dangerous to be online anymore!?" Little bulb burned a bright red and shook a first at Danny.

"Woah, sorry, just um, stop that? Please? I'm sure your dad loves you too much to ever turn you off okay?" Boyd wiped at his eyes, even though he couldn't cry, and said, desperation and fear in his voice,

"I'll go ask him!" He jumped out of Jazz's arms and ran to the conference room.

"Boyd!"

When they burst into the room, Scrooge McDuck was standing on the table waving his cane in the air.

"Now see here you huanter hunting hooligans-!"

"Dr. Gearlose!" Gyro, the only person in the room that had still been sitting, bolted to his feet and caught Boyd as he jumped into his arms. Gyro instinctively cradled the boy bot and glared at the other kids. Boyd was literally vibrating. Fenton, who was already standing, watched with worried eyes. This was going to end badly.

"You. What did you do to Boyd?" He growled. Little bulb hopped from the chair to the table to Boyd and pat his little brother's head.

"Our kids didn't do anything! We've raised them to be fine upstanding citizens!" Maddy insisted.

"That's right! They know how dangerous ghosts are, don't you kids?" Danny felt all the emotions, guilt, regret, bitterness, jealousy, fear, resentment, building inside of him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair for him to be angry because Boyd had parents who loved him no matter what. It also wasn't fair that Danny didn't. He was so tired of always being scared to go home. Of having to run away from his parents as they shot to kill or capture. If they knew what he was, Danny didn't doubt for a moment that the only reason they'd want him alive would be to dissect him. The fact that Jazz had been asking questions about the heroes here proved that she knew the same thing.

"In my experience," Danny said, voice carefully controlled, "ghosts are very dangerous." His parents looked over at the table of angry strangers victoriously. It was the proudest they'd seemed of Danny in a long time. Seeing Boyd, burying his face in his Dr Dad's chest, he felt the words coming out, and with them all the pain and resentment he'd felt for so long, all before he could try to stop it. "But so are people. In my experience."

"Danny, what are you saying?"

"And you don't just throw away a person because they cause you trouble!" He continued. Looking Boyd directly in the eyes as the younger boy had turned his head. "You don't break them down into usable parts, or molecules. Because they feel things and want things and love things! They're just like anyone else!"

"Danny, what has gotten into you?!" Danny walked right up to Boyd and said softly,

"The only people who don't believe that, they," Danny swallowed past the lump in his throat and the realization that came with saying the truth out loud. "They don't really love you." Boyd sniffed and held out a fist. Danny smirked wryly and bumped it with his own.

"What are you talking about? Ghosts don't have feelings, you know this."

"Do we though? Do we even know why they haunt people? Even if they are just, just bad, we don't have to tear them apart." He implored. This was the first time he'd contradicted his parents. This was the closest he would ever get to asking if they could really love him, spooky bits and all.

They weren't even looking at him anymore, they were holding at each other.

"He gets this from you, you know." Jack said, arms crossed.

"What?!"

"Well we Fentons sure don't have that kind of open mindedness."

"I'll say! Who's idea is it out Fenton before everything we own?!" Jack, clearly offended, raised his voice.

"It's called branding! It was your idea to bring the kids with us anyway! It'll be good for them Jack, they'll experience different cultures. Look at what cultural diversity did! It poisoned our impressionable son's mind against ghost hunting!"

"Well excuse me for wanting our children to be educated!"

Danny sighed and his shoulders slumped. His courage died inside of him.

"I was only kidding. Haha. Let's go back to Amity and live in ignorance for the rest of our lives." Jack's face lit up.

"Atta boy!"

"Honestly Jack, he's clearly lying."

"Danny wouldn't do that, we raised him better than to lie, at least to his old man."

"Kids, RV, now. Jack, we'll be discussing this later." She turned back to the scientists and said, professionally, "Thank you for your time, sorry it was a waste for us both." Boyd waved hesitantly, still sniffing,

"Bye Jazz, by Danny." Danny offered a single wave of his hands before slumping it the door. Jazz waited a moment after her parents were gone too. She hurried and took the card she'd made for just this purpose and handed it quickly to Boyd.

"See you soon." She whispered. She was almost at the door when Jack poked his head back in.

"Come on Jazz, we don't need these ghost-lovers."

"Coming dad." Just like that the Fenton family was gone. Scrooge, still standing on top of the table, summed up the feelings of the group pretty well.

"What in dismal downs just happened here?!"

#ducktales #danny phantom #danny fenton #darkwing duck #gizmoduck #crossover #scrooge mcduck #Boyd #jazz fenton #jack fenton #maddy fenton #fenton cracshell cabrera #dr dad #Manny the man horse #gyro Gearlose

[aparticularbandit]

Fifty ways to kiss someone. 37. Roisa (if you're still taking them)

37.  …without a motive.

You can read it below or, if you like AO3 better, it’s been posted here!

Sometimes she forgets that they’re together.

No.  That doesn’t sound quite right.

Luisa was never really sure if she and Rose were together.  Rose would constantly belittle whatever it was they had – it was a mistake, it won’t happen again (it did.  often), this is only temporary (and it would be, until it happened again) – she had so many ways of saying that there wasn’t anything there to have that it felt like Luisa was the only one holding on to any little threads of anything.  Truth be told, maybe that’s the way it should be. Maybe she shouldn’t have been trying to get her father’s girlfriend, then fiancée, then wife to sleep with her – to be with her.  Maybe that put her in the wrong.

So, of course, now that they finally are together, it doesn’t feel quite real.  Kind of like a dream come true.  Kind of like she royally screwed her father over.  Kind of like she shouldn’t be glad that he has passed – and she’s not!  She’s still upset!  It was definitely not okay that Rose killed him!  Definitely not!  She still misses him!  She loved – and still loves – him!  And yet, there’s a benefit to his death.

Rafael would like say the same thing, she’s sure.  His preferred benefit?  Having the Marbella all to himself without having to worry about their father’s overprotective hovering oversight.  Her benefit? The love of her life.  It’s easier to move on when she focuses on the benefits.

It’s easier to move on when she doesn’t think about it at all.

But here, in the Caymans, after the years of Rose refusing to acknowledge their relationship (in a way that Luisa now understood was meant to protect her; if Rose had put any stake in it – or in her – then Luisa would have been on the chopping block.  She’d been there since then.  She didn’t want to be there again), after the months of believing that Rose was dead (and that it was her fault for trying to give her over to the police, a fault that had driven her to drinking again, a vice which Rose, unbeknownst to Luisa, had gotten her out of), and after the trouble of trying to figure out how they could even be together with her brother constantly breathing down her neck (who asked for blood tests and fingerprinting and all that jazz for their relative’s girlfriend?  Her brother, of course.  Not that he hadn’t had good reason.  Rose had kidnapped his nephew, and shooting Michael had kind of destroyed any belief the police had in her death)—

After all of that, it is hard to believe that they are actually, really, truly together.

She forgets, sometimes.  It’s really, really easy.  Luisa’s been to the Caymans before, multiple times, even if it might not have been this exact island.  Her father had hotels and secret getaways all over the world, and when she’d gone on benders – or even when she just needed to get away from it all – she’d gone to hide in them.  That doesn’t even begin to cover the times her father had brought her and Rafael here when they were growing up.

So it’s a small thing – and it has to be a small thing – when she curls over in bed and sees the redhead resting there, her head back against the pillows, hair splayed out behind her, eyes closed against the bright of the sun.  Rose never sleeps past sunrise – except for now, apparently – so this sort of moment is rare indeed.  Luisa isn’t even sure that it is really happening, that this isn’t somehow still a dream – and the thing is, if this is a dream, she wants to kiss her.

Rose looks so vulnerable, so soft when she’s sleeping.

Luisa bends down and presses a kiss just to her lips – chaste as it ever could be – and smiles as Rose’s brow furrows and she curls on one side, tucking closer against her.  “You’re beautiful, you know that?” Luisa whispers, grinning as Rose still refuses to wake up, as Rose gives a great shuddering sigh and relaxes against their shared pillow.  That’s the only thing that can convince her all of this is real; if it really were a dream, Rose would have woken up immediately, and they would definitely be making out.

She likes this better.

For now, anyway.

Luisa curls up under the covers, bringing herself closer to Rose, and brushes their noses together.  She’ll let her sleep.  That’s what living in the heat of the Caymans is for, isn’t it?  To relax?

So let her relax.

Luisa will relax, too.

#backlandsofbutter #bandit writes fic #bandit answers question #roisa #rose solano #luisa alver #i hope you enjoy this!!

[iggy-licious]

Spotlight Serenade

I saw that Iggy pic above and felt compelled to write an AU set in the 1920s. I will probably take an eternity to update, but here you go. No smut right now, but there will be eventually.

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

Chapter 1

Ophelia Samuels adjusted the scarf over her finger waves, tied her kimono around her curvy brown body, and staggered to the living room for the telephone ringing mercilessly on the credenza.

She wasn't sure if she should take the phone off the hook and just go back to sleep, or if she should find out what Emil wanted. She knew it was him; as her manager, he was the only one who might have a need to call her on a Wednesday night. At least Emil hadn't chosen to call earlier, when she and Richard, her guest for the evening, were getting to know each other in the biblical sense.

"Oh, good. There you are!" Emil practically shouted when Ophelia picked up the phone.

What was he screaming for? She sighed, resigning to hear him out for a few minutes at least. "What is it, Emil?" She stifled a yawn.

"It's about Wendell."

"What's he gone and done now?" Ophelia's head began to throb with the beginning of a hangover. Wendell, the drummer for her band, was nothing but trouble.

Emil sighed. "Got himself killed."

"Killed?"

"Yeah, Fee. Lost a knife fight after a craps game on 125th."

"Damn." He was a problem, but the audiences loved him, a trim, 6'2 chestnut-hued man who might have stolen the show if he hadn't been situated at the back of the stage. Ophelia had vowed to never fall for a band member and successfully kept her distance from Wendell, but he was exactly her type. "Well, we have to find a replacement fast, Emil. A good one." Reality was setting in about what the loss of Wendell would mean for Ophelia and the band.

"The residency, I know."

"Friday, Emil. Two days away!"

"You'll have someone, I promise. I'll ask the band to put their thinking caps on. For now, why don't you get some more beauty sleep? And have mercy on that poor man you left with?"

Ophelia contemplated Richard, who was still snoring in the bedroom. Not a dud entirely, but disappointing nevertheless. "That's one thing at least that you don't have to worry about, Emil."

***

Jim Orton turned up the hot water and prepared to finish quickly. His muscles ached, and he couldn't tolerate a repeat of last night's cold shower. The other tenants on the floor of the boarding house seemed to keep earlier hours and had run through most of the hot water. It was every man for himself, as far as the bathroom was concerned. Jim kept reminding himself that it was only temporary.

He groaned with pleasure when the water hit his back. He was glad to feel the tension slowly melt away. So many bottles and crates. So many back alleys and storm cellars and clubs and speakeasies that were unassuming from the outside. His father was right, the black clubs in Harlem were a lucrative proposition. After arriving in New York on Tuesday, Jim had spent the day and night selling all the gin he had and securing orders, careful to avoid promising more than Neil would be bringing. After some time at a cheap, late-night Chinese restaurant near his lodgings, contemplating the tide of money coming in, he was ready for bed. He'd leave it to Neil to worry about the finer points of assembling a satellite business in this city.

The Ortons ran a successful family bootlegging operation in Philadelphia, and Jim's father, Frank, was eager to become established in the Big Apple. The Ryans still largely catered to white clientele in New York, and while there were lots of small-time black bootleggers, the organized groups were more interested in running numbers in Harlem. So Frank Orton decided to try his family's luck uptown.

Frank had made agreements with old acquaintances, black and white, who ran the nightclubs, and sent Jim north in a rickety truck of precious, illegal cargo. The family's hopes were pinned on Jim until his brother Neil arrived to share the load. Neil was the brain, and Jim was the brawn, but Jim was holding his own all alone. He was a short man, but strong. Nothing scared Jim after the war, and he peppered most conversations with his intense, intimidating stare. Although he was usually the last person to put anyone at ease, he could be witty when relaxed, and in a pinch his crooked smile and large blue eyes had charmed more than a few unsuspecting women before.

After showering and brushing his teeth, he climbed into bed. It was generous to call the lumpy cot a bed, but it was better than sleeping in the truck. He turned on his radio, always hoping to hear jazz, but never finding much of it. The vibrant music was still considered a scourge to the public at large.

His father thought the large radio was an exorbitant purchase and a waste of space on the truck, but Jim insisted on bringing the device to New York. He couldn't be without some kind of music in the bleak boarding house. He enjoyed the freedom of his job, and he relished being a tough guy when needed, but music was his first love.

He'd do anything for his family, but he was slowly realizing that he wanted more. Hearing jazz in the New York clubs was as exciting as it was disheartening. As long as he was bootlegging, Jim would be an outsider of this loud, creative world, one who merely furnished the spirits that kept it turning happily.

He admired the hedonism of the atmosphere, the dancing, the women who had dared to drastically shorten the hemlines of their dresses. But if the doorkeepers didn't deny him entry after seeing his humble work clothes, which happened more often than not, he'd feel out of place and need to drown his discomfort in a series of watered-down drinks while the bands played raucously and the siren singers shimmied and wailed.

His impoverished look was more off-putting to the clientele than the color of his skin, which he found interesting. He knew he'd fit in better once he and Neil were established and he could splurge on a wardrobe that was suitable for New York nightlife. But it was sobering for him to realize that a black man wouldn't fare as well in a white club, proper dress or not.

Jim dozed off after fantasizing about playing in one of the Harlem bands and keeping company with a pair of bubbly brown-skinned flappers.

@ledbythreads @firethatgrewsolow @girlofthemoon75 @m-faithfull @tangerine-page @ledzeppelinsbonzo @sacramentogirl23 @callmethehunter @rogerdaltreysautomatacollection @sweet-lady-jane @rcrollings @periwinklegarden @tremble-and-shake @fuck-yeah-squeeze-my-lemon @thegeekylibrarian @dopeyjoe @theresthatcatagain @zosociologist @slashscowboyboots

#Iggy pop #au fanfiction #fan fic #fan fiction #1920s #Writing #My writing #Fanfics

[datawyrms]

Expectations Fulfilled

Dannymay 2020 Day 18 : Horror (As a warning this is way too long? I don’t know how this happened. The answer is way too much setup.)

The last fight with Valerie had not gone well. Danny had hesitated a beat too long, seemingly frozen in indecision and took a nasty blow to the chest for it. That was their friend for you, get too worried about hurting the person trying to kill you and forget to dodge again. At least he’d dropped out of the sky over a wooded area, giving them a chance to pull him out of the fire yet again.

“Danny, you have to change back before she sees you!” Sam hissed at the glowing boy who was clutching his head. “Do you need us to carry you?” her eyes scanned the branches above, it didn’t look like he’d taken any down by slamming into them, but he could always just land badly.

“I will totally put you in this thermos over letting her drag you off to Vlad.” Tucker warned, listening for the tell tale hum of the ghost hunter’s jet board.

“I-I’m okay.” Danny finally responded, starting to get back to his feet. “Don’t soup me. Hate that,” he shook his head still rubbing at it with one hand. “I’m just a bit dizzy”.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that hero act anymore, you hear me?”

“Hurry up!”

The ghost gave a stiff nod, finally clear headed enough to switch back to human form. He stumbled, but the three of them had enough practice by now to get moving quickly. It wasn’t likely Valarie would connect the three of them with Phantom, but with their luck she’d assume a ghost was what had gotten Danny limping along.

“We really need a better plan for when she catches up to you, talking it out isn’t working.”

“What, I love being blamed for beating myself up.”

Sam scowled at her flippant friend. “I know you’re worried about hurting her, but she can probably take a few hits. Just so she’s a little more cautious about going after you so hard.”

“Probably wouldn’t take a fall from that high up very well though.” the half ghost grimaced as he watched the sky.

“Dude, you barely took that fall. Sam has a point.” Tucker handed over the backpack as his friend steadied, keeping close in case Danny was only acting like he was good to go again.

“I’ll think about it.” Which was basically Dannyanto for ‘no’, but there wasn’t much use in trying to convince him.

That is why it was so strange the next day in school. Tucker spotted Valerie running out of class with a flimsy excuse, but Danny hadn’t even made an attempt to leave. It could have been something that wasn’t ghost related, but spotting the large white and green serpent ghost slammed to the ground from the window confirmed it was indeed a ghost thing.

“Hey. Aren’t you gonna go out there?” he leaned over with a hiss, Lancer too distracted by the potential danger to his students to really be picky about talking in class.

“Huh?” Danny stared at him blankly.

“The ghost? That Val’s fighting?” he clarified, wondering if his friend had simply slept through his ghost sense.

Danny looked out the window, looking more bored than alarmed. “Nah. She has it.”

“Dude, are you okay?”

“You guys were the ones saying we needed a plan. So I’ll just let her deal with it,” he shrugged, slouching back in his chair.

That didn’t really seem like a plan he’d normally come up with. Sure, it was sensible, but that’s why it didn’t make any sense. Danny looked normal enough though, maybe he was just tired of getting yelled at by someone he was helping. “If you say so. It is just an animal ghost,”. He dropped the subject, taking several looks back as their teacher ushered them all off to a ‘safer area’. Valerie probably wouldn’t have any trouble alone, but his friend’s complete lack of interest was a little creepy.

Sam’s opener at lunch meant he wasn’t alone in that thought. “Aren’t you maybe a little too carefree about this?”

“No? If she gets beat up then it’s not my problem anymore,” he focused back on his sandwich, ignoring the twin looks of bafflement he was getting for a few minutes. When they continued he muttered “What? I’ll deal with it if it threatens you guys, you’re my friends”.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Your parents don’t have some weird ghost mood changer or something?”

“I’m fine Sam. I finally agree with you guys and now you’re surprised I’m not acting like a superhero, sheesh.” he rolled his eyes, irritation creasing his brow.

“You gotta admit it was pretty sudden. We know how stubborn you are,” Tucker crossed his arms, unable to shake the feeling that something was off.

“You said it enough that it made sense. She hates me and wants to waste me, so why keep bailing her out? See how she likes the ‘evil ghost’ not helping,”

“You’ll help if she gets in serious trouble though, right?” Tucker hesitated before asking.

“If I feel like it.”

Sam and Tucker shared a look, biting back any further questions. Whatever was up with Danny, they probably wouldn’t get out of the half ghost himself. They’d have to invite themselves over tonight and take a look around for anything new and dangerous.

“See? Totally fine.” Danny prompted them to look around, spotting the ghost hunter entering the lunchroom with a scowl.

“Uh Danny, she’s a little hurt. See her arm?”

He raised an eyebrow. “So? I take worse, you’ve taken worse. Why do you care?”

Sam really wanted to ask him why he didn’t care, but the elbow from Tucker had her reconsider. With the weird apathy, it probably wouldn’t be the best idea to get on his bad side.

Yet they couldn’t find any sort of weapon or tool that might have explained why their friend had flipped from being completely unwilling to aggressively defend himself against Valerie to ignoring ghost fights he had no interest in. Any questions or nudges to help were always met with reluctance, as if he resented the very idea of assisting. Sure, he’d go the second a ghost might threaten his family or friends, but otherwise he seemed to have set the rest of the town in a ‘not my problem’ box.

“Maybe he wants to focus on his studies. You know he can’t work for NASA if he keeps pulling his kind of grades.” Jazz was a little put off by his behaviour, but couldn’t deny that the increased amount of sleep and downtime was reversing her brother’s downward trend in school.

“Isn’t it weird though? It’s not like it was our idea for him to use his ghost powers to help people, he did that on his own,” Sam pointed out, frustrated that Jazz would just ignore all of that.

“You know I can totally hear you guys, right?” Danny called from upstairs, and they could swear the room had gotten colder.

“Yup! Eavesdropping is rude little bro”

“So is gossiping behind my back!”

Jazz gave a shrug, covering up a laugh from his irritated retort. “He’s not acting all that different guys, really.”

“Which I’ve been saying on repeat all week.” Danny groused, hands in his pockets as he slouched into the room. “I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not. So I stopped. Is it really that big of a deal?”

“You weren’t pretending, you were really helping people,” Sam pressed, earning another eye roll.

“Sure. That’s why everyone hates my guts. Or wants to poke around in them.”

“Well it’s up to you dude. Just let us know if anything feels off?”

“I’m fine! Sheesh!”

-

Phantom had been strange since their last fight. In some ways it had been nice, not needing to constantly chase the pest down only for him to get away yet again. She was pretty sure she’d caught more than the glowing terror had this week, mostly because the ghost barely showed up. Perhaps it had finally decided the weaker ghosts were beneath it, or didn’t get it enough attention. She didn’t miss the ghost, but she could admit she was running more ragged than usual for it.

“Get out of my way.” the ghost had the audacity to bark an order at her after flinging Ember to the ground, making her completely miss her shot.

“You’re the one in my way Phantom.” she growled back, getting some satisfaction as the ghost’s eyes snapped to her hands and the ectogun she held. “You can’t fool me, I know you’re just an evil ghost”

The green eyed ghost glared at her for that “Am I now?” he paused in midair, eyes flicking between Ember who was getting back up for another go, and the red clad ghost hunter in front of him. “Hey Ember!”

“What! I don’t need any of your awful puns, dipstick”

“How ‘bout a truce? First one to get the hunter grounded wins.” he ducked quickly to dodge the shot Valerie fired.

“‘Bout time you learned what fun is, kid. You’re on!” the ghostly musician regained her place in the air, apparently willing to forgive a punch to the ground if it meant ganging up on a ghost hunter.

“Hey Val? I suggest you run.” With that he fired on her, only managing to dodge the blow by having her board stop floating. She always knew the white haired boy was evil, but she never really expected him to team up with another ghost. Still, she was a better ghost hunter than most. She could take them.

She flew low, counting on the extra obstacles to throw off the ghosts aim. The side benefit of not having far to fall was a notable one as well as the larger soundwaves Ember could launch kept clipping the sides of the board, a little too wide to completely dodge. She rocked wildly but was able to keep her feet, using the time in between volleys to launch a few attacks of her own back. Judging by the grunts she’d hit one or the other a few times, but not directly. She urged the board to go faster, eyes scanning for a good place to turn the tables on the ghosts. It wasn’t a great spot, but the two buildings could provide cover once she got behind one. The board shrieked at the hard turn she demanded of it, but managed to get down the alley without clipping the sides.

“Who’s the rat now, huh?” Ember’s taunt was infuriating, but she forced herself to wait. She had to take at least one of them out. The first shot took the ghost by surprise as she rounded the corner, but the second was a little too far down.

“The thing about corners is you can’t really surprise me if I don’t come that way.”

She jerked in surprise, trying to face the ghost who had somehow gotten behind her-though the building of course how had she been so stupid-? Yet she couldn’t dodge the punch that threw her off the board and on to the ground, skidding to where the guitar wielding ghost was waiting.

“Well, that was fun. Should do it again sometime!” she gave the ghost hunter a kick before taking to the air, eyeing Phantom a little warily. “Didn’t think you had it in ya.”

“Surprise. Touch my friends and I’ll kill you again. Got it?” he started cheerfully enough, but the warning was nearly a snarl.

“Chill out dipstick. Weird little humans off limits, got it!”

Valerie tried to rise as flame-head fled, but was forced back down by Phantom’s boot. She managed not to grunt in pain, but she didn’t have too many options to remove the ghost’s foot from her chest at the moment.

“As for you, Valerie,” he ghost was still clearly furious, but seemed a little lost now that he’d actually knocked her down. 

“Danny?”

Valerie’s heart raced. Tucker? He was a bit of a dweeb, but she couldn’t let this ghost scum hurt him. She struggled, trying to unbalance the ghost while it was distracted, rolling free and dragging the ghost down with a grunt.

“What now?” Phantom seemed peevish, ignoring the ghost hunter completely after getting back up. As if she was so little threat he could just ignore her.

“I think you might be going a little far dude.” Tucker really shouldn’t be trying to reason with this monster, but it was giving her time to ready her weapon.

“Hey, she wanted evil!”

Tucker looked incredibly uncomfortable, eyes darting between the ghost and his disguised classmate. “How about no more fighting for today, okay?”

“You can’t be defending this monster! It can’t hide what it is!” she aimed her reclaimed weapon.

The ghost’s more relaxed air died the second she finished speaking, temperature plunging as he whirled to face her. It was strange how he seemed more fixed on her hand than the barrel of the gun, but that didn’t really matter all that much with the ghost’s hands and eyes glowing a furious green.

She stuck to her guns, ready to fire and distract the thing so Tucker could run Yet he didn’t run, instead pulling a Fenton thermos quickly out of his backpack, looking more worried about her than anything else.

“Yeah okay, you need a time out. Sorry.” The ghost didn’t even react to the words, though it blinked a few times once it realized the Fenton’s invention was pulling it away from its intended target. Otherwise it didn’t struggle, leaving Tucker to quickly cap the thermos. “Okaaay. I’m just gonna. Go now. Bye!” he sprinted away before she could demand he hand over the thermos so she could dispose of the ghost inside. Didn’t he see how dangerous it was?

-

Thinking simply hurt. Tucker and Sam were worried sick, babbling on and on about how he was acting weird, that he could have seriously hurt Valarie. As if hurting her mattered. Maybe it did? Urgh. He just wanted them all to stop talking and let him figure it out.

“Danny, this isn’t normal. We just want to help,”

“Why is any of this surprising? I’m always like this.” he insisted, only earning worried frowns again.

“No, you don’t usually decide to attack people for calling you evil. What’s gotten into you?” Sam was looking him in the eye. She did genuinely seem to be concerned, even though it didn’t make any sense.

“Nothing? I’ve been half ghost for a while,” he crossed his arms.

“This isn’t getting us anywhere. We need to ask Frostbite to check him or something.”

“There’s no way we can get to the Farfrozen if we start now, and we can’t trust him to go on his own right now.” Tucker frowned, punching plans into his PDA.

“I’m right here guys.”

Sam dragged her hand across her face. “Danny, you were going to waste Valerie, we get to question your judgement right now.”

“Of course I was. I’ll show her a monster,” her muttered, eyes flaring green in annoyance.

Tucker paled a little, still looking at the PDA. “Yeah that? That’s what we’re worried about.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you guys.”

“Danny, that’s not the problem here!”

The half ghost sighed, slumping on his bed. They still weren’t making sense, and everything was starting to itch horribly. He rubbed at his shoulder, but it only seemed to make the itching sensation worse. Something was in the way of what needed scratching, but he couldn’t quite reach it. Very annoying.

“Can you stop dropping the temperature? It’s like a meat locker in here.”

“I’m not doing anything.” he stared at the stickers on the ceiling, idly wondering if something had happened to the others to make all of them make zero sense. Or to make them forget that he was a half ghost. Of course it was cold. He kept scratching at his shoulder, nails desperately trying to find whatever it was that was making him feel so uncomfortable. Something tight and restrictive that itched furiously.

“We go Friday. There’s no way we can sneak away that long until then.”

“You’re overreacting guys.” That, and a trip to the ghost zone would be pretty boring.

“No, you’re under reacting. Just trust us, okay?”

Sam and Tucker remained weirdly on edge, watching him like he was some sort of bomb that might go off at any moment. Shouldn’t they be used to all this by now? So what if he found it a little fun that people were too scared to keep eye contact with him for very long? They were only unsettled, and the fear always gave a welcome kick of energy. It distracted from the itching.

He wanted to be a little more scary than just simply unsettling, but Sam and Tucker insisted the school was a hands off zone now. Maybe he should have picked different humans to be so attached too, as these ones were being incredibly boring all of a sudden. Didn’t they want to have a bit of fun? Simply being unsettling with his presence was all well and good, but it wasn’t the same as a proper scared-for their-lives affair. They didn’t even approve when he went after Skulker for daring to set foot in his territory! He’d been ‘too careless’ for dragging the ghost near some of the fleeing humans while they fought. Of course he had! What was the point of fighting if he wasn’t going to get some good back from it? He could do what he wanted with his food.

Really, it just made him want to tear his hair out. They were the ones who had changed, but they kept insisting it was the other way around.

Valerie was incredibly weird though. She kept talking to him as if they were friends. It always made the itching worse, trying to pretend he was glad she was at school and not a smear on the sidewalk. Humans were stupid. It wasn’t like he was hiding what he was. Though it was one of the times that she approached him that he finally solved the itching problem, nails finally tearing through the obnoxious, too tight skin.

She’d backed away with a gasp, as if the green stain on his hands should be some sort of surprise. “What happened to you? Don’t worry, I’ll get help!”

She seemed confused when he laughed at her nonsensical question. Flexing his freed claws was fun, but he really did need to get the rest of this restricting mess off. His right hand clawed at his arm, the ectoplasm that oozed from his self inflicted wounds was both freeing and soothing at once. Stop hiding, stop pretending. 

“Nothing happened to me.” He flexed his freed arms,  green black skin more like tar than anything else, giggling when the girl recoiled from the new green eyes that bubbled to the surface to watch her squirm. 

Maybe she was that oblivious. “Someone will help you Danny, just hold on!” she insisted before sprinting down the hall. He’d chase her, but there were so many people simply watching in mute horror that he couldn’t resist trying to get a few screams out of them. No killing, Tucker and Sam wouldn’t like that, but a few scratches wouldn’t hurt all that much. Dash ought to know how kind he’d been in not retaliating sooner, really. The disgusted sounds they made as he clawed at his face was entertaining, someone fainting as he flung the discarded skin away. Some of his hair remained black, but the white went nicer with his pointed teeth, in his opinion. He let out a snarl, relishing in how they fled from some twisted half human ghost. Tucker and Sam were wrong, he absolutely should have done this sooner. Well, he’d let them know that when they showed up. They usually did. It really was a bit of a shame to just let them all run away though. Oh well.

Maybe he should free his feet, but getting through his shoes might be a bit of a pain. It was easier to drag his claws against the lockers and listen for the sounds of running feet and muffled screams. They were so scared they didn’t even need to see him.

“Danny, do you recognize us?”

Oh, there they were! “Hi. I fixed the itching.” he clawed idly at his neck, feeling more flexible with every scratch. It was much easier to keep an eye on them with the arm eyes, freeing his head to glance around the rest of the hallway.

“We noticed. Uh. I think you left half of yourself on the floor.” Tucker looked ill, pointedly ignoring a red and green splatter on the wall next to him.

“Finally. So much scratching. You have no idea how annoying that was.” They didn’t seem happy for him though. More worried. Why? They knew he’d never hurt them. They were his humans, his favourite ones. No one got to hurt them.

“Can you...change back?” Sam asked, approaching cautiously.

“Change back to what?” his brow furrowed, fixing the blue eyes of his face to double check he was seeing correctly. Was she upset? Weird. This was a good thing. 

“Back into yourself. Human, like us? Remember?” Tucker had taken one of his hands, careful of the claws. They were still the same general shape, even if Tucker’s skin was thin and weak and warm.

“I’m not like you though. You were there.” he tilted his head, wondering if they’d forgotten that too somehow.

“You’re still human, Danny,” Sam stepped in as Tucker seemed distracted in wiping the green and black film off of his hands.

“Nope. Something in the middle.” he let out a hum, sure he’d heard something. “Being split like that was wrong. Like playing pretend all the time.” The beast stretched, the cracking of his lower back like gunshots in the abandoned hall. Two more steps. So there was a sneak around!

“This isn’t you, you know that. You don’t want to hurt or scare people.”

“Mmm? That’s what monsters do, isn’t it?” Why did Sam decide to hug him now? He couldn’t get at the rest of his torso like that.

Tucker was very confusing, rubbing at the water from his eyes. “Just let us try to help you fix this, okay? You aren’t a monster.” 

“Sure I am. What else could I be?”

“Who told you that? Why would you listen to them over us?” Sam was brave as usual, shaking him a little instead of backing away.

“I told you that too! Are you sure you guys aren’t the ones forgetting stuff?” he frowned at the two of them, ear twitching. More steps. The sneak was close, and he was pretty sure he knew who it was.

“It doesn’t matter who it was. Can you switch to ghost form?” Tucker sounded calm, but his face was still leaking. Sam had joined him, though she was more biting her lip than dripping like a faucet. 

“I’m both right now. I just said that!” They really weren’t listening very well. “I’m done hiding what I am, it was uncomfortable.” The confused muttering from the sneak was fun to overhear, but it would probably be more fun if Tucker and Sam were in on it. “They don’t know what I mean by that, you might have to explain it for em.”

“Explain what? To who? No one’s here Danny. It’s just us.”

“Us and the sneakkkkk.” he sprang forward, grabbing on to the corner with his claws, twisting his neck to look down at the sneak who backed away with a yelp. “Hiiii Val. You gonna run again?” he snickered when her fear morphed into anger, apparently recognizing him now.

“You sick creep! What did you do to Danny?”

“Valerie! Don’t make him mad!” Sam called out, the two of them sprinting over to join the  sneaky ghost hunter.

“No one listens! I’m Danny. I’ve always been Danny. You just didn’t notice! That’s okay, almost nobody did.” Oh she was very funny when she glared at him like that.

“You’re lying. Danny is nothing like you.”

“Danny is everything like me. Right Tuck? She doesn’t listen to ghosts. You sure I can’t just kill her?” he glanced back at his friends, disappointed to see the no already written on their faces.

“No! That would be bad, don’t do that!” Tucker stammered, unsure where to keep his eyes. He’d have an easier time if he had eyes on his arms like he did now. Maybe his friends could be half ghosts too. Hmm.

“Valarie, I know this doesn’t make any sense, just listen and don’t set him off.”

“Sam, this thing has done something awful to your friend and you’re worried about the ghost’s feelings? What’s wrong with you?” the ghost hunter stood her ground even without her fancy gear, glaring up at the perching mutated mess above her.

“All of that up there is Danny, okay? Something’s wrong, and we’ll explain it once he’s better, but you just need to trust us right now.”

“Mmmhmm. A monster just like you said.” he rocked back and forth a little, blue eyes fixed on Valerie’s clenched fist. “You’re lucky my friends won’t let me kill you Val. Even though I’m not hiding anymore.”

Tucker noticed how Danny’s blue eyes seemed fixed on the girl he was tormenting, elbowing Sam to point it out.

“None of you are making any sense. He’s just possessed or something, why are you acting like this is okay?”

“Annoying.” Danny growled, showing far too many fangs. “This is what you wanted! You say I’m not a hero so I stop.”

Tucker and Sam looked ill. “Valarie, what do you have on your hand?”

“Why does my jewelry matter now?” she didn’t look at them, too busy scowling at the monster on the wall. “I didn’t say anything like that to Danny.”

“Yes you did! You are awful at this. Phantom was Danny and vise versa. Keep up!” the hybrid snorted. “Both are me. Both are very, very tired of you and your orders.”

“It’s important! Where did you get it?” Sam had apparently decided she didn’t have time for Valarie to be confused, trying to grab at her hand and cursing when she saw it. “Nevermind, I don’t care, just smash it!”

“You still aren't’ making sense.” She was reaching for a blaster that wasn’t there, looking between all three now as possible threats.

“Then you say I’m evil. So I comply. Now I stop hiding and still you are complaining! Make up your mind! Or let me kill you, that’d be fun.” Plaster cracked beneath the creature’s claws as it leaned forward, uncomfortably close. The out of place blue eyes flicked from the red ring to her face and back again. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted Val? Or should I call you master?”

(oh look a sort of continuation)

#dannymay2020 #Danny Phantom #Tucker Foley #sam manson #valerie gray #my stuff #why did i spend all day on this #i hope it was a decent buildup payoff #horror is a lot about suspense to me #but idono if i really got that part #there's some blood but it's pretty glossed over idono #please scream thoughts at me they make my day lol #body horror #if i should tag more things say so i am Bad At Tumblr :v

[misunderstood-shadows]

Rings

Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

Warnings: angst, violence, swearing

About: Called back to help with a certain werewolf, you run into Elijah. It’s obvious how he looks at Hayley, and she at him, and it breaks your heart completely.

New Orleans was buzzing. People laughed and cheered, drinking and dancing in the streets. I strolled amongst the crowd, revelling in the smell of life, and the feel of the magic that lingered around us.

I felt him before I saw him; something overing behind me, tailing me silently. My lip twitched, and I turned, striding down an alleyway. I felt him follow, gaining ground steadily. The other side of the alley came out on Bourbon Street, where the air reeked of alcohol and sung of jazz.

A hand grabbed mine, twirling me around.

Elijah didn’t let go, even when I tugged at his grip on my wrist.

“What are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

I grinned up at him, tilting my head. “Hello, Elijah. What a surprise running into you.”

He snarled softly and my smile widened. “Do not play trivial games with me.”

“I’m here because Niklaus asked me. I hear you have an issue with-,” I paused, humming.  “Shall we say an old protégé? I’ve been told there’s something… someone else, who might need protecting. You know I am always up for a good fight, Elijah.”

Someone ran into me, forcing me to take a step back from Elijah, my wrist still in his hand. I felt his grip change, his fingers softly mingling with mine. The movement was soft, an involuntary memory brought forward by our proximity.

His finger brushed the ring on my left hand, and the movements stopped, and he pulled away.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“With that attitude, Elijah, it’s going to be a long visit.” I pulled my hand from his and turned my back on his. “I’ll see you at home!” I called over my shoulder, melting into the crowd.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Niklaus!” Elijah barked. “Where are you?”

Klaus appeared at the top of the stairs, book in hand. “Yes, brother?” he asked, smirking.

“You need to stop with the silly game you play. A thousand years of torturing me is enough.”

Klaus’s smile widened. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, dear Elijah. Please, enlighten me as to my latest crime.”

“Why did you invite Y/N here? We do not need her help, nor do I want her presence here.”

“This is a family situation, is it not? And Y/N is family? Or did you forget that when you included her in ‘always and forever’?”

“That was a thousand years ago, Niklaus. Much has changed since then. I do not want her here, and as you were the one who invited her, you shall be the one to tell her to leave.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The front door banged open, and Rebekah and I entered. I didn’t look at Elijah, the sting from his words lingering.

“Oh, do be quiet, Klaus,” Rebekah admonished. “We could hear you from down the street.”

I smiled up at Klaus. “It’s lovely to see you, Klaus. You’re looking old.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow. “I see you still do not value your neck, perhaps a bite from me would rectify that?”

I laughed. “Oh, promises promises.”

I felt Elijah shift behind me, moving to close the door.

Shrugging my jacket off, I turned to Rebekah. “Now, where’s the big secret you refused to tell me?”

“What is going on down here?” A dark-haired girl in a baggy shirt appeared next to Klaus on the landing above us.

Klaus turned to her, an impish smile on his face. “Hayley, Y/N is an old friend. She’s here for your protection.”

Hayley looked down at me, obviously unimpressed. “Nice to meet you. Can you keep it down? I’m trying to sleep.”

She turned to leave, but paused when I said, “Congratulations, by the way. A child is a blessing.”

She turned back to me, eyeing me suspiciously. “What makes you think-”

“I can hear the heartbeat.”

“Y/N is an Original vampire, like my siblings and myself,” Klaus explained. “We grew up in the same village in Mystic Falls.”

“I thought the Original Witch only turned her children?” she looked at Elijah for confirmation. There was something hidden in that look- I glanced at Elijah, and my suspicions were confirmed. A hole opened in my chest.

Before he could answer, I responded.

“I was unintentional. A mistake.”

“Yes, well,” Rebekah interjected. “That mistake meant I have a drinking buddy for life. Shall we?”

I nodded and followed her into the kitchen. I felt Elijah’s eyes on me as I left, but refused to meet them, his words from his last goodbye echoing in my ears.

I never want you near my family or I again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The forest floor is cool underfoot as I run. I know something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. Magic shimmers in the air, a metallic tang on my tongue.

My only thought is Elijah.

The little hut comes into view and I nearly cry in relief. I can hear chanting from inside, and the smell of smoke and burning herbs drifts out.

Without pause I run in. The Mikaelson family are gathered together. Elijah looks up as I enter, eye’s wide. Mikael steps forward, pulling me away from Elijah and towards the door. There’s something red around his mouth, dripping down his chin.

“Elijah,” I whispered.

He stepped forward, one hand reaching for me. His father let me go, and I stumbled into Elijah’s arms.

“My love,” he whispered.

“What is going on? What’s on your face.”

“I love you,” he said quietly.

“As I love you.” I replied, confused. “What are you- “

He leant down, pressing his lips to mine. The bitter taste of blood filled my mouth, and I gagged, pulling away. “What- “

Mikael yanked me back, shoving me against the wall. As he did, he stepped forwards, drawing his sword. In one swift movement he plunged it into Elijah’s chest.

I screamed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I woke with a start, groaning as I knocked my head on the table. Why the fuck was I under a table?

“Shut up,” Rebekah groaned. She rolled over, burying her face into the couch leather.

“I see you and my sister haven’t broken your reunion habits,” Elijah said dryly. “At least the house survived this time.”

Rolling my eyes, I pushed the table off me and it slid across the floor. Elijah stopped it with one shiny black oxford shoe, rolling his eyes. I sat up, wincing as my head throbbed.

“Fuck off.”

I heard a choked laugh, and Elijah sat on the couch opposite Rebekah, sipping at a glass of bourbon.

“There used to be a very nice, comfortable vintage rug here. Where did it end up?” I asked, gesturing to the floor I just vacated.

Elijah smiled slyly. “Niklaus presented me with a…. rather messy apology for using me as a bargaining chip with Marcellus.”

I rolled my eyes. “I like that rug. I got it in Turkey.”

He hummed, sipping his drink.

“Anyway, I’m going out.” I forced myself to my feet. He watched me as I straightened my clothing and twisted my hair up into bun. “You coming?”

His lip quirked, and he placed down his glass, standing.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The street was less busy during the day, drunk partygoers replaced with tourists and pickpockets.

Elijah looked pristine in his suit, and I knew I looked out of place walking next to him in shorts and a shirt. Peoples eye’s darted towards us, lingering for a moment, then darting away, as if they were afraid of catching our attention.

One kept my attention, however; handsome and alone. He eyed me as I walked past, regardless of Elijah. He looked to be in his late twenties, healthy and lean, without that steroidal, jacked-up look of someone who spent too much time in the gym. He pivoted on one foot, walking backward a couple of steps, maintaining eye contact before turning around and continuing on with his day.

I hummed softly, waiting a moment before turning and trailing him silently. I felt Elijah split off, melting into the crowd. I knew he wasn’t far, letting me chase down the prey, ready to jump in if needed.

The man ducked into an alley, reaching into his jacket. Checking to make sure that nobody was watching, I sped over to him.

“Hi.”

He gasped, spinning around.

“Oh, hey.” He smiled at me.

I smiled, stepping forward. Wary of me, his human instincts telling him that something was wrong, to run away, he stepped back. I followed, step by step until his back was against the wall.

“You’re… forward.” He mumbled.

I smiled up at him, leaning forward. “Stay still and don’t scream.”

He held still, his little human heart thumping away in his chest. Slowly, I pressed my lips to his. He froze for a moment, then responded, willing and pliant. I pulled back from his mouth, smiling slyly at him before kissing down his neck. I could taste tobacco, human arousal and life.

He moaned, and that’s when I sunk my fangs into his neck. I heard footsteps and pulled back, ready to defend myself. Elijah stood in the alleyway, hand in pocket.

“Here,” I said. I lifted the arm of the man, offering Elijah his wrist.

Elijah stepped forward, taking my offering. We fed together, draining the man slowly. When we could take no more without killing, I drew back, nudging Elijah. He turned his head, black veins and fangs still clear. I bit into my wrist, offering it to the man, and Elijah righted himself.

The man drank, I compelled him to forget, and Elijah and I stepped away. I gestured upwards and we jumped, easily landing on the roof of the building next to us.

“You have blood on your lip.” Elijah’s handkerchief dangled from his outstretched hand.

I took it with a mumble of thanks, wiping my lip delicately. He took the cloth back, folding it delicately and placing it in his jacket pocket. We stood over the city, surveying.

“I apologize for what I said, last night,” he said.

“I don’t want to hear it,” I said. “I really, really, don’t want to hear it.”

He turned to me, one hand coming to rest on my shoulder. The touch was meant to be comforting, but all it did was remind me of how close we used to be; far beyond such a small sign of comfort.

“Y/N- “

“I know you don’t want me here. There’s something between you two. I can feel it, and I know you can too. I won’t be here longer than necessary.” The words were bile in my mouth. “It’s been nearly a thousand years, Elijah. You can move on.”

Without looking at him I walked off, crossing the building and jumping down into an alley, leaving him on the roof.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hayley eyed me from across the living room, she had a laptop on her lap but hadn’t looked at it once in the past ten minutes; I could feel her eyes glued to me. The first edition copy of Pride and Prejudice lay in mine, and I idly turned the pages. I had practically memorized the entire book; Jane Austen had been a good friend of mine, and the book was dear to me.

“You’re going to give yourself frown lines,” I said, not looking up. I heard Hayley shuffle and the laptop close. “If you have a question, ask it. Otherwise, Elijah is upstairs. He’s quite good at naming things, infants included, if you need help.”

“Who are you?” she asked. “Despite all their talk of family, not once did they mention you. There’s no mention of an Original vampire who’s not of Mikaelson blood. It’s obvious they trust you but you’re not family.”

“You should ask Elijah, not me. You two seem quite close, if I may say so.”

She flushed, looking down at the swell of her belly. Inside, I could hear the flutter of the foetus’s heart. “He’s been kind; Klaus is more interested in the baby than in me.”

I nodded, swallowing a lump. “There’s a reason he’s called the noble brother.” I stood, taking my book with me. “Take care of him Hayley. Rebekah told me about the wolves in the Bayou. If you want Elijah, have him; don’t lead him on then abandon him in favour of a wolf you’ve never met.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but I left the room, book clutched tightly in my hand. I twisted the ring on my left hand with my fingers, a tightness in my chest. On my way up the stairs, I ran into Elijah coming down. He caught my eye, a small frown appearing.

“Y/N? Are you-”

“Fine,” I muttered. “I’m fine. Hayley is in the living room.”

I brushed past him, making my way into my room.

“Y/N.” I heard him follow me, I left my door open and he entered, closing it behind him. I busied myself tidying my bed of the clothes, hanging some and folding others.

“What’s our story? I need to know if you and Hayley-” I paused, sucking in a breath. “I assume you won’t tell her who I really am. She wouldn’t be pleased at my presence if she knew, and I don’t want to cause any,” I waved my hand, “you know… issues.”

“I hadn’t thought about it.”

I stopped what I was doing. “You know, I might go. Yes, I think I’ll go find a hotel. If you need me, you can call. Three Original’s is enough to protect one werewolf; if you need me you can call.”

I stuffed a few clothes in a bag, not really looking at them, tears blurring my eyes.

“Y/N.” Elijah stepped forwards, reaching for me.

I stepped back, not looking him in the eye. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. We’re great, great, great whatever grandparents. Sydney had a baby; a girl. They named her Kali, an ancient Viking name oddly enough.”

“Y/N,” Elijah tried again.

I looked him in the eye, refusing to let my tears fall. “Goodnight, Elijah.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hayley caught me as I descended the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

I tipped my chin towards the door. “City. I’m a phone call away if you need.”

“Why are you leaving? It’s not like we don’t have the room.”

I swallowed, glancing over my shoulder. “It’s best if I don’t stay here long.” I continued down the stairs, heading to the door. A hand reached out to catch my wrist.

“Who were you to them? Elijah and Klaus… they love you like a sister, but you weren’t. something happened between you-”

“Ask Elijah,” I snapped. “He’ll tell you.”

Hayley didn’t let go. “I asked him, he just said you were a family friend. Maybe that’s true, but there’s more story there.”

“Oh, for god’s sake.” Rebekah stepped out of the shadows, rolling her eyes.

“No, Rebekah, don’t you-” I snapped.

“She’s his wife!” Rebekah exclaimed, ignoring me. Hayley dropped my wrist in shock, stepping back, eyes wide.

“Rebekah!” Elijah’s voice echoed down from the landing.

She simply rolled her eyes again and stalked off.

Hayley looked upwards. “You’re married?”

Elijah glanced at me for a moment then opened his mouth to answer.

I beat him to it. “No longer, isn’t that right, Elijah? From memory, it was never near my family or I again?”

Elijah met my gaze evenly. “That was nearly 500 years ago. I-”

I lifted my hand, silencing him. “Let’s not have a domestic in front of your new plaything.”

I turned on my heel and left. I barely made it outside before the tears fell.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Fuck!” I screamed into the air. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” my voice cracked, and I sunk to my knees, the absolute and consuming pain coursing through my body. The night was still and unsympathetic around me.

The band of metal around my hand suddenly seemed too tight, and I ripped it off, throwing it into the darkness. Something blew past me, racing into the dark. Elijah appeared in front of me, his closed fist held securely to his chest.

“You shouldn’t throw your daylight ring away.”

I wiped my eyes, not looking at him. Standing, I brushed myself off and picked up my bag.

“I don’t want it Elijah. Melt it down or throw it into a lake. I don’t care anymore. I can’t care anymore.”

I felt his eyes on me for a moment. When he didn’t respond, I stepped away, making my way over to the Camaro Rebekah had leased for me. I tossed by bags in the passenger seat and made my way around to the driver’s side.

“When I told you to leave-”

I held up my hand, finally meeting his eyes. “I really don’t want to hear it.”

He pinched my ring between his fingers, pointing it at me. “You need to, whether or not you want to. When I told you to leave, it was because Mikael was closing in. I didn’t want you anywhere near us. My intention was to protect, not hurt, you.”

“Elijah, I know it’s been a literal millennium, but we were married, i.e. we make decisions together. I am just as strong as you, there was no reason for us to separate. You didn’t ask me, you just decided. And you did it in the most painful way possible. You abandoned me.”

He stepped forwards, as if to reach for me. “Please- “

I shook my hand. “I love you, Elijah. I will always love you. I wish you and Hayley luck. I’ll see you in another century.”

I got into the car, slamming the door behind me. As I drove off, I watched Elijah standing in the driveway, my ring still clasped in his hand. After a moment the front door opened, and Hayley exited the house. He turned to her, sliding his hand into his pocket.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

MORE? Part 2 Here

#the originals #the originals fanfiction #elijah mikaelson #Elijah Mikaelson fanfiction #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x oc

[colawinston]

“ i ain’t no fortunate son, no...”

a/n — hello, hello. I’m here with a little fic for you all, something simple and sweet and maybe a little shitty.

A Sodapop Curtis and vague reader fic for @radiantcade. Idk, I hope you enjoy it :)

we’re also going to totally ignore that hinton said soda dies in vietnam cause fuck that shit

He wasn’t dead, but he might as well have been.

Coming home had been...a hassle almost. Sure, it was better than trekking through miles of hot, shrouded forest, scared shitless and waiting for the next bullet to whiz by or mortar to come sailing through the trees and drop in the midst of them, waiting for the next ambush or false alarm or snap of a branch. Yeah, being home was far better than being stuck in the near ceaseless rain and heat and barrage of casualty, even if it still held its own set of completely different issues. Sodapop couldn’t really bring himself to complain, though. He was grateful he made it home, grateful to be alive, goddamnit. 

It just felt...different. Verging suffocating. He enjoyed the fact he could step off a bus and immediately be near bowled over by his kid brother, arms tight — Lay off the man, Ponyboy, Darry had barked, but there wasn’t any heat behind the words. Lay off my kid brother, Soda chided, just as heatless, though far more playful. He enjoyed the fact he could catch up on his brothers lives, greeted by his old friends and take in what they’d been up to in the last two and a half years he’d been gone.

 Ponyboy had grown up, was damn near as built as Darry by this point, but still the soft mess of a kid he’d been when he’d left. He played football, was set to graduate, go off to college and do something important with himself. Darry still worked on houses, but had found himself a gal, a sweet girl named Joanie, and he was real smitten with her, got bashful when Soda asked if he was gonna pop the question. But he wasn’t the only one. Seemed like everyone had found them someone, Soda had noted. Steve, who’d gone off to college ‘round the time Sodapop left (which had kept him from the shit storm of a draft that Sodapop found himself plucked from), and had himself a pleasant college girl — her face sweet, hair kept neat and her clothes impeccably clean — not someone that Sodapop would have thought would end up with Steve, but life was full of surprises. Two-Bit ended up with Marcia, Randy Adderson’s now ex-gir. Took a ride on the wild side, Two-bit had grinned, tipping back a beer. He looked cleaner — they all did. Weren’t damn near as greasy as they had been, wore new clothes, looked as though they’d really gotten themselves out of a rut. 

But they all still converged in the Curtis home, crowded together around the coffee table smushed in between the arms of that old couch. 

That was all good, felt fine, but the suffocating part was, well, talking about the very large elephant in the room. The war. What he’d seen, what he’d done, just the barrage of questions and unwavering interest in things he’d rather not brag about, talk about, think about. How many of them vietcong did ya kill, Soda? Heard they was sending ladies off for you boys while stationed out there, weren’t they? Get anything good? Still as charming as ever...But he supposed they didn’t quite understand. They knew the horrors, the happenings, what went on, but they didn’t understand. And he’d brushed it off, gave them some bullshit response and smiled and sat back. Conversation had moved away from him and onto something else, and he was left staring at the wall, chest tight and suffocating.

He didn’t sleep well. Hell, he hadn’t slept well in a very long time. Although comfortable, his bed felt foreign. The silence of the house deafening despite the chirp of crickets outside, and every soft creak of the house sending a jolt through Sodapop, his fists clenched in the sheets, eyes locked firmly on the shadowed ceiling. Among the delicate noises of night, he could hear his own heart, occasionally Ponyboy or Darry stirring, a cough or a shuffle down the hall to the bathroom, only for the same shuffle to retreat down the hall and a door to click shut. He didn’t sleep, once bright eyes and crooked grin now a murky pool of green and teeth barely shown, the smile itself barely meeting his eyes. He was plagued, and he hid it.

Which was unlike him, but if he was being honest, it felt wrong to push these things onto his brothers — the two of them had enough to worry about without the extra baggage of something they wouldn’t understand. Maybe Ponyboy would be soft about it, sympathize. He’d gone through his own bit of trauma years back, struggled in his own way afterwards. Soda had helped then, so why wouldn’t he ask now? Was he that much of a coward to admit something was off, something wasn’t right with him. He knew what to expect when he’d gotten home, he’d heard the rumors and the tales of those who’d come home from the second world war. But that couldn’t be him. He did want it to be him. 

But he kept up his image, because being home was nice. He’d gotten a job back at the station, something to keep himself preoccupied. It wasn’t the same as it had been without Steve there, though pretty girls still flocked his way, got him to smile, flirted back and forth. Hippies, mostly. Not that he was particularly interested in them. No, he was still set on a broad he’d been seeing back before was shipped off. One he wasn’t sure if she knew he still existed. Not until she came by the station one day, in one of them fancy new Pontiacs: blood red and loud as hell. She noticed him near immediately, jaw dropped and not a moment of hesitancy before she flung herself around him — a lot like Ponyhad that day he’d stepped off the bus. 

“Sodapop Curtis, I didn’t know you were home!” She had squealed, and pushed him back an arms length, as if to get a good look at him. He gave a bashful smile, averting his gaze and shrugged.

“Haven’t been back too long. Sorry I didn’t write. You back home for a bit?” He’d asked her, keeping the subject off him.

She was a college girl, much like Steve’s pretty blonde girl. Smart as hell and pretty to boot. Her soft features hadn’t changed much, eyes still bright as ever and lips spread into a familiar, comforting grin. She’d smacked her hand against his chest, pushed him slightly. “I am. Why? You wanna take me out sometime? Like you used to?” She asked, bubbly as ever. 

“I just might, if you’re willing,” He grinned right back. The first grin he had since he’d seen his brothers, his old friends. 

And take her out he did. 

Now, the two of them hadn’t ever really been a ‘thing’. They’d been friendly, talked a lot, eventually started gettin’ affectionate but he didn’t think either of them wanted to put a label of things. She hadn’t, having gotten into that new age idea of goofing around, just living her best life, not worried about settling down, just kicking up dust and running on. He thought that way too, or he thought he thought like that. He thought that maybe settling down was a bit of a joke, something for older folks who knew what they wanted, but sometimes it’d felt like he was just....coasting by on the fumes of her own ideals. That he was just jazzed and caught up in the feeling of her fun, her change, her life. Sodapop was always one to get drunk off life, and she gave him that tugging feeling that drag races had, that dancing around did, and he’d soaked up every moment he could get of it, which was why she was settled against him again, pressed into his side in his bed, delicate fingers playing with his own. Darry and Ponyboy weren’t in the house, which was the only reason she’d come over — he’d allowed her over — and things had led to them snuggled up like they used to be. They lay quietly, Sodapop keeping one arm around her and the other bent at his side as she played with his fingers. 

“It fucked you up, didn’t it, Soda?” She eventually broke the silence, voice light as a feather, almost sounding sad. “I can see it, y’know. You don’t smile like you used to,” She reached up to cup his face with one hand, body shifting to be able to get a better look at him. He kept his eyes off her, green-blue gaze locked on the ceiling like it usually was. His body stiffened, hand on his belly curling into a fist. She was the first person to prod him about it, maybe to immediately notice it. Given, he’d kept up his attitude to the best of his abilities and been working, his brothers had been busy with their own things. What was he really supposed to say to her? He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to face the obvious conclusion she’d come to himself. 

But it came out as a soft “Yeah,” His chest rising with a deep sigh, eye flitting to meet hers. “It did.” He admitted, voice thick, low. His throat suddenly felt dry, stung in the way it would as if he were trying to hold himself back from crying. Sodapop held her gaze for what felt like hours, just until her lips pouted and she had her cheek against his bare chest, hand tucking against his body. 

There was another bout of silence, and her soft voice broke through the silence again. “You’re gonna be alright, Sodapop, I promise.” It was firm, knowing. She’d always been like that, positive to a fault almost, but he believed her. She’d always been right about things — about her getting into school, Steve, too, Pony getting on well with some of his new friends back after Johnny and Dally had died, about Darry getting another job when he’d lost the other one. She’d always been right, and he had no reason not to be. 

Stroking a hand over her hair, he gave a short nod, eyes back on the ceiling, his vision blurred. “I’ll be alright.” He agreed. With you, sat on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t want to put that on her. She was going back to college soon, would be busy with her friends and forgetting about him until she came home again, so he wasn’t going to pressure her into thinkin’ she needed to care about it. “I’ll be alright,” He repeated. 

#the outsiders #sodapop curtis #sodapop curtis x reader #sodapop / reader #rumblincadefic

[writingkeepsmewhole]

Bad Habit

This is just a one shot about Sam and Dean. This is also meant to be day 4 or my 365 Fic challange. I know it’s now the 5th and not the 4th but it’s 3AM so I’m counting it as the 4th of January. :P Sorry if it sucks I rushed it, all of it.

Sam and Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT, Language, Threesome, No wincest. 

Fic Summary: Reader is a succubus that convinces the boys that she can feed without killing.

I walked into the building a jazz band playing on the stage farthest from the door. Fully aware of all the eyes on me. I couldn’t stop the smirk that came to my face as I sat at the bar.

“How can I help you?” The bartender asks his dark eyes dropping to my low cut dress.

“Surprise me.” I say leaning forward to place my chin on my hand.

“Sure thing.” He says smirking.

I smile back spinning myself around on the stool to scan the crowd. Leaning back I meet a few pairs of eyes but no one catches my eye.

I stop when I see a pair of men in the corner, trying their hardest not to look at me. I can’t stop the grin knowing I found my victims for the night.

“Here’s your drink miss.” The bartender says an apple martini setting on a napkin with a phone number on it.

“Thanks love.” I say winking at him, taking the drink and sliding off the stool.

I make my way over to the two men, both of them seeming out of placed dressed in flannel. The shorter one of them first to look up when I stop at there table.

“Hello boys.” I say smiling at them.

“Uh hi.” The taller one says.

“How’s it going?” The other says.

“It could be better, do you mind?” I ask guesting to the seat next to him.

“Sure.” He says smirking his green eyes lighting up.

“Your a doll.” I say sitting down and placing my drink down.

“So, how can your night be better?” The taller one across from me asks.

“Well.” I say biting my lip as I take a breath the smell of lust coming of the both of them.

“I’m looking for a little entertainment.” I say looking at the green eyed one, him undressing me with his eyes.

“You think you two could help me with that?” I ask him.

“Depends on what kind of fun you want?” He asks wrapping his arm around me.

I jump when something cold and hard is pressed into my side. I look down to see a gun. Hearing a click from under the table I turn to look at the long haired one.

“Hunters? Really?” I ask them both.

“Sorry sweetheart just trying to save a few lives.” The one next to me says.

“Well sorry to disappoint but I haven’t killed anyone in years.”

“You expect us to believe that?” The long haired one asks.

“Yes, I know how to get what I need without leaving corpses in my bed.”

“You are really trying to tell us you feed without killing people?” Green eyes asks me.

“When I’m a good girl I do.” I say moving closer to him, placing my hand on his thigh.

I watch him gulp but he doesn't lean closer.

“Sorry darling we made sure to wear protection against your charm.”

“Well that’ll make me want you even more.” I say pushing out my bottom lip.

“But if you two don’t want to play let me go and I’ll go find someone else.”

“Yeah that’s not gonna happen.” Brown eyes says, across from me.

“Why not?” I ask pouting.

“Because we don’t want to find your leftovers tomorrow.”

“Your really not listening are you? I don’t kill my playthings. Just leave them with a good time and I get fed. Everyone wins.”

“I’ve read the lore I know the truth.”

“Ooh what a smart little librarian, but I hate to pop your bubble handsome but we all don’t run around draining people dry. I can prove it if you like.”

“Oh yeah, how?” The one next to me asks.

“That’s easy, one of you join me for the night.” I say smirking at him, then looking at the one glaring holes at me.

“Or the both of you. Doesn't bother me. The more the merrier.”

“Were brothers.” The long haired one says.

“Oh, well just the one then.” I say shrugging.

“Sammy don’t act like we’ve never shared a girl.” The one next to me says.

“Dean, shut up and it’s Sam.” Sam says glaring at him.

“Let’s just finish this job and go home.”

“Now, now Sam no need to be so angry. This night can end well for all of us. You two come with me I get a snack and I’ll even help you catch the other bitch that’s hunting in my territory.”

“See Sam not so bad you the one always going on about that not all monsters are evil.”

“Stop that.” Sam says glaring at me.

“Stop what?”

“Seducing him.”

“Oh I stopped doing that after he shoved the gun in my ribs plus if you really do have protection from me I can’t make either of you do anything.”

“Then why-.”

“Why are you still attracted to me?” I ask already knowing he’s question.

“Well your a male and I can’t help but ooze pheromones.”

“I thought you said you can control it?” Sam asks clenching his jaw.

“To a degree but being this close is gonna have some effect. If you get your brother to let me go I will walk away and your head will clear up soon enough.”

“No.” He says straightening up.

“Your coming with us.”

“Is that so?”

“Sam.” Dean says sounding like he was warning him.

“I’m not letting her feed off someone else. If she says she can prove it I wanna see it for myself.”

“Now that’s what I want to hear.” I say smiling my stomach flipping with excitement.

“Get up.” Sam says standing up.

“You heard him.” Dean says pushing the gun into my side.

“Yes sir.” I say watching Dean’s green eyes darken.

I smirk making a note to self as I stand up. I watch as the both of them discreetly put their guns away. Them both grabbing my elbows.

“Relax boys don’t want to draw attention now do we?” I ask linking my arms with them.

They both look down at me and then share a glance as we walked to the door.

“So your place or mine?”

“Ours.” Both say at the same time.

“Of course.” I say let them lead me to an older black impala.

“Nice car.” I say as Sam holds the front door open for me.

“Aww how gentlemanly of you.” I say sliding into the seat.

“Keep going.” Sam says siding next to me as Dean gets behind the wheel.

“Well your the bossy one.” I say earning a glare.

“Differently got to say this is a first for me.” I say as Dean starts the car and starts heading into town.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well normally by this point I've at least gotten a kiss or two. And being the middle of a sexy man sandwich should be more sweaty than this.” I say hearing a huff from both of them.

“Both so angry.” I say not getting a reply.

“Well this is gonna be a fun night.”

“Hush.” Sam says looking at me.

“Ask me nicely.” I say winking at him.

He only tightens his jaw.

“I really bother you huh? How long has it been? A few months? A year?” I ask him making his face flush.

“Oh don’t tell me longer?”

“Sammy’s not a one night stand person.” Dean says making me turn to look at him.

“And I take it you are?”

He shrugs, pulling the car into the parking lot of the cheapest hotel in town.

“Well now you boys are gonna make me seem like the town hooker.”

“Well aren't you? You live off sex.” Sam says.

“Only because I have to. I have a job and everything.” I say as we all get out of the car.

“Didn’t expect that.” Dean says leading us to the room 304.

“Well you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover.” I say as he unlocks the door.

I follow him inside him turning on the lights to show a typical hotel room set up. Double beds, table and chairs, dresser, TV and a bathroom.

“How cosy.” I say pulling off my jacket leaving me in a low cut black dress.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks, Dean smacking his arm.

“Dude you know what you invited her here.”

“I don’t think asking someone to come over by gun point is an invasion but whatever helps you boys sleep at night.” I say sitting on the bed closest to the door.

“So, how should we get this thing started?” I ask crossing my legs and leaning back on my hands.

“You just have to have sex with one of us right?” Sam asks surprisingly smooth.

“Well not exactly that’s the most fun but I can just feed from kissing someone. I get more from sex. I can go longer without feeding when I have sex.”

“I thought you fed off you know…” Dean says blushing.

“Sperm?” I ask laughing.

“No, I can feed of a male or female.”

“Sweet.” Dean says moving to pull off his jacket and flannel him throwing it on the other bed.

“Very.” I say looking him up and down.

He was definitely fit. Wide shoulders and nice arms from what I could see. He moves over to sit next to me a necklace hanging from his neck. It simple a black obsidian crystal hanging from it.

“Your protection.” I say glancing at it then back at him.

“Who knew a few fancy words and a black rock could keep me halfway clear headed around someone like you.”

“Magic is a funny thing.” I say reaching up to touch it, both him and Sam looking shocked.

“It keeps the wearer protected. It doesn't harm me any. Just keeps my “negative” energy from clouding your mind.”

“So if we take them off you can control us?” Sam asks moving to sit on the other side of me.

“Not exactly. I can make you want me so bad you can stand it. But I can’t make you go out and kill someone.”

“I think we’ll keep them on.” He says looking me up and down.

“Of course, I can feed just fine with them on, that is if you boys ever get around to doing anything.”

“Like what?” Dean asks making me turn to look at him.

Smirking I move closer to him only stopping a few inches from his face.

“Whatever you want.”

I smirk when he presses his lips to mine, the taste of bourbon filling my mouth. Wrapping my arms around his neck I kiss him back getting a rush of energy as I start to feed from him. Feeling him pull my closer, a moan leaving his mouth I pull away from him.

“Easy now.” I say smiling at him.

“What the fuck was that?” He asks his green eyes meeting mine.

“That was me feeding.”

“But I liked it.”

“Well duh, kissing me is the only thing your gonna wanna do.”

“I thought I would painful.”

“Sex demon remeber, sex feels good.”

“So do you still need to…” Sam asks pulling my attention away from his brother.

“Feed? Yes, that was like eating one fry out of the bag only makes you want the whole meal.”

“You won’t kill us?”

“Cross my heart big guy.” I say smiling as Sam moves closer bending down to my level.

“One of us will kill you if do.” He says his mouth almost brushing.

“Oh I would love to see that.”

He doesn't respond only closing the gap between us. I tangle my fingers in his hair as I kiss him back letting out a moan as I feel his energy flow into me. I leave my other hand on the back of Dean’s head as he moves in to leave kisses on my neck.

I let them push me down to my back Dean’s hand running up my thigh as Sam pulls away from me making me whine.

“You taste like wine.” Sam says making me giggle.

“Really?”

“Yeah, why is that funny?”

“I thought she tasted like pie.” Dean says.

“That’s why. I taste like whatever you crave.”

“Didn’t expect that.”

“You don’t expect a lot of things do you?” I ask turning to Dean.

He shrugs leaning back to press his lips to mine, him squeezing my thigh, his other hand digging into my hair to pull me closer to him.

I pace myself careful not to take too much from him as I feel Sam kiss over my shoulder and down my chest. I smile as Sam pulls down the straps of my dress.

I wasn’t wearing anything underneath so it was easy for him to get to my breast him leaving kisses over it then my nipple. I gasp when he bites down on it making a rush go threw me both from the act and pulling more energy from Dean.

I pull away from him, his eyes dark and heavy.

“How ya feeling?” I ask him.

“Never better.” He says trying to kiss me again.

“Hold up there I don’t want to eat you up at once. Learn to share.” I say moving to pull Sam up and press my mouth to his.

“I hate sharing.” Dean says sounding like he was pouting him moving down to my chest.

I moan when pulls my dress down and starts sucking on my other nipple, his hand sliding up higher. I dig my fingers into Sam’s hair.

I don’t resist as Dean pushes my legs apart his hand easily finding my bare mound. I start to undress Sam trying to keep myself from letting go and draining him I move to kiss down his neck. Sucking on his skin I unbutton his shirt finding that he’s even more in shape then his brother.

I run my hands over his chest kissing my down. Dean moving with me him moving between my legs.

“Well someone is happy to please.” I say moaning as he starts to lick my clit.

“Yeah well what about you?” Sam asks his voice deeper.

I smirk looking up at him, his waist inches from my face. He’s jean’s not doing much to hide what’s waiting underneath.

“I’m always happy to please.” I say smirking at him and start to unbuckle his belt.

I make quick work of his jeans and boxers smiling when I freed his cock. Taking him into my mouth I feel his pulse as I wrap my hand around the base of his cock. He lets out a moan as I start to suck softly bobbing my head up and down. He grabs a handful of my hair and starts to thrusts into my mouth. I match his slow pace but gasp when I Dean push a finger inside of me.

I lose my train of thought for a second as he pumps his finger in and out of me, him still licking my clit as he pushes a second finger into me.

Sam tightens his grip on my hair reminding me of what I should be focused on. I go back to doing what I was doing, sucking on his cock only this time I suck harder and move my head faster

He lets out another moan him using his arm to move my head up and down. I don’t mind it making me hotter as he uses me. He clearly seems to enjoy it too his cock seeming to grow in my mouth. I use my tongue to rub the underside of his cock that seeming to push him over the edge.

I smile feeling him start to cum in my mouth the salty taste being the best thing I could ever have. I easily swallow all of it feeling a rush corse threw me. Sam holding my head tight to him as wave after wave of his seed fills my mouth.

When he’s finished I pull away from him and lick my lips.

“See your not dead.” I say smiling at him.

He smiles down at me and nods. He takes a shaky breath running his fingers through his hair.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” He says sitting up.

“Good more for me.” Dean says pulling away from me.

“Jerk.” Sam says pulling up his pants and walking to the bathroom.

“Bitch.” Dean says just as Sam closes the door.

“Do I wanna know?” I ask as Dean crawls up my body to hold himself over me.

“No.” He says moving his head down to take one of my nipples into his mouth.

I moan reaching down to remove his belt. Once I unbuttoned his jeans he pushed them down just enough to free his cock.

I didn’t mind we he pushed himself inside me I was as ready as he was. I moan when he starts thrusting into me him leaving bite marks along my chest and stomach.

I wrap my arms around him him pulling my leg up to hook around his hip as his pace picks up. It doesn't take long before we are both spilling over the edge. Him moaning loudly.

He falls over to the side laying next to me as he catches his breath.

“That was awesome.”

I giggle and nod my head turning to look at him.

“Yes it was.” I say feeling like I was practically buzzing.

“So you can keep from killing anyone?”

“Yes, both you and Sam will be a bit tried for the next few days but you’ll be fine.”

“And you?”

“And I’ll go run a marathon or something.” I say smiling earning one back.

Sitting up I start to fix my dress just at the bathroom door opens, Sam coming out dressed in a towel.

“Hi there.” I say standing up.

“Where are you going?” The both ask making me giggle.

“Well home of course. I’ll swing by tomorrow to help you boys as promised.” I say picking up my jacket and putting it on.

“But, I mean you can stay.” Sam says making me smile.

“Yeah he’s right it’s late.” Dean says as I reach the door.

“Now, now boys.” I say opening the door and turning to look at them.

“You know what they say, Don’t start a bad habit and you never have to quit.” I say winking at them then closing the door, leaving them with a night they won’t forget. 

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural dean #Supernatural Dean Winchester #supernatural sam #supernatural sam winchester #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural imagine #Supernatural smut #supernatural #dean x OC #dean x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean fanfic #dean fanfiction #dean fic #dean smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester smut #dean winchester imagine #sam x y/n #sam x reader

[lambcaey]

Cuphead: A Transgressin’ Question

Despite having just defeated the Devil, the guilt from his sin is still plaguing Cuphead's mind. There's one more question over the matter that he's dying to have answered, but can he break his feelings to Mugman before the feelings break him?

How'd you like to blow your top Dig yourself some fine ree-bop Hi-de-hi, he-de-he Oh, the hi-de-ho man, that's me! Yes sir, there was nothing quite like a little "Hi De Ho Man" to bring life to any party in Inkwell Isle. This was especially true of this particular party, and its particular guests of honor: Cuphead and Mugman. It was the highlight of the brothers' victory party over the Devil. The two were enjoying every second they spent cutting a rug with their friends at Elder Kettle's house. There was so much music and merriment in the atmosphere that you'd swear the little cottage was itself was swaying its hips to the beat. Even the guests that were too big to fit inside found a way to enjoy the party from outdoors. The brothers had taken center-stage of the living room, swinging to the big band jazz to their young hearts' content. Their friends had formed a crowd around them, cheering and clapping to the beat of the music. After a minute or so, Cuphead decided to finish the dance by twirling his brother a few times, and then, with a mischievous smile, release him across the room. This sent Mugman spinning like a top until he bumped into the snack table, causing the entire punch bowl to pour on his head. Everyone, including Cuphead, gasped in alarm,as though they worried the little mug was hurt. Fortunately, Mugman's goofy grin returned, and he licked off his entire face with one slurp. "Mmm! Strawberry!" Everyone burst out laughing, with Cuphead giving a sigh of relief. It was nice to see that, despite having just gone to literal Hell and back, that Mugman was still the lovable goofball he always had been. At that moment, as he watched Mugman giggling and dripping with punch, a new set of gears started turning in Cuphead's mind. His expression slowly changed from a relaxed smile to a gape of terror. In the place of a fun party with their friends were a towering wall of flames, and imps dancing around Mugman's shattered skull. The punch was also starting to turn a much brighter shade of red... Mugman dried his face off with a white towel, then turned to face his brother. "Oh Cuphead, that was swell....Cuphead?" The others had noticed Cuphead's sudden change of demeanor as well. Cup quickly noticed everyone staring at him with concern, and he promptly rubbed his eyes, grinning sheepishly. "Shucks, Mug, I'm fine. Nice to see you're still bein' a good sport." Cuphead playfully nudged Mugman's arm. Mugman smirked. "Hey, somebody's gotta be one b'tween the two of us." He then nudged back before walking off to the kitchen. "I'll go get us some more punch." Cuphead gave another nervous smile as his brother left. Normally, Cup was the most optimistic person he knew, finding the bright side of things even when there wasn't one. He was now realizing that even a happy-go-lucky fellow like himself was capable of having chills sent down his spine. Whatever he just envisioned was enough to do just that, and then some... The troubled cup made his way to the washroom, hoping a splash of cold water would wake him up a little. As he dried himself off, glancing at his reflection, he couldn't help noticing that, if one didn't know any better, it looked like his face was covered in tears, similar to when... MUGMAN, PLEASE, GET UP!!! I'M SO SORRY! PLEASE DON'T DIE!!! GET AWAY FROM MY BROTHER!!!! No matter how many times it happened, Cuphead never truly got used to seeing Mugman getting killed. It felt especially terrifying in the beginning, when the boys were still getting the hang of their powers, including how to resurrect each other. As if it wasn't sickening enough seeing his little brother shatter to pieces, what made it feel worse was the fact that this was practically Cuphead's own doing. He brought Mugman to the casino; he made the deal; he rolled the dice. He sold both himself and his little brother to the Devil, and it repeatedly cost the life of the person who least deserved it. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! Cuphead snapped out of his trance, rubbing his eyes to prevent a single tear from falling. "J-Just a minute!" For the rest of the party, Cuphead made sure that everyone around him saw nothing but a cheerful, smiling little boy everywhere they went. His troubles certainly hadn't ended, but the last thing any fellow wanted at a swinging party was a Grade-A Debbie Downer. He especially didn't want to ruin the fun for his genuinely-happy little brother. He'd suffered enough at the hands of the Devil and his debtors; the very least the kid deserved was a fun night with no worries. Now, for better or worse, Cuphead had a tendency to underestimate Mugman's sense of insight. Something Mugman had noticed (that Cuphead hoped he hadn't) was how full his brother's head was getting throughout the night. At first, he dismissed it as just a quick drink of water, but it progressed by a few gallons as the party waned on. Unlike himself, Cuphead wasn't fond of drinking from his head, so it seemed unusual that he'd carry around this much liquid without taking a single sip. It was also becoming more obvious how forced Cuphead's smile really was, especially as he declined any more offers for a snack, drink, or even another dance as the party went on. There were even moments where it looked like the poor cup was feeling sick to his stomach, ocassionally seeming him trying to stifle a whimper or lump in his throat. Mugman had his suspicions, but it was also likely he was just tired from such a harrowing day. It seemed best not to bother his big brother about it. The rest of the party ended on a positive note, and Elder Kettle sent the boys off to bed while he stayed up to clean. With the Devil now gone, this was surely the happiest day in the history of Inkwell Isle. To its saviors, however, it seemed their troubles still weren't finished yet. ------- "Ngh...n-no, no..." Mugman's face grimaced on reflex. He had been lying peacefully in his wooden bed until the slurred speech had broken the silence. "No, no please..." Mug's face winced again as he put his pillow over his head. Who in the world could be talking at this hour? Suddenly, Mugman fully woke up when he realized that that wasn't just someone's slurred speech; it was sobbing. "...N-No no, please don't leave me...." Mugman sat up, ready to tell his brother to keep it down, but what he saw behind him made his entire expression drop. Cuphead was still in his bed across the room, but tossing and turning in it like a sweat-soaked jumping bean. As usual, his head sat rested on his nightstand, but it sat there wincing and sweating bullets in distress. A puffy, white thought bubble sat floating just above, playing as scene as though it were a movie screen. The bubble projected a montage of flashbacks of the boys' first few battles against the debtors. They mostly consisted of all the brutal ways Mugman had been killed. Cagney hitting him with an acorn bullet; Hilda smashing his plane with her laughter; Goopy’s tombstone slamming on top of him. With each brutal death scene, the dream version of Cuphead raced across the screen, trying in vain to race to his brother before he’d get hit. The harder he tried, the worse it got, and the more distraught the poor cup was in both his dream and reality. At one point, the montage cut to Mugman standing under a spotlight in the midst of pure darkness. Dream Cuphead smiled in relief, bounding toward his brother with his arms out wide. Just before the two could share a warm embrace, a giant clawed hand covered Mugman with its grasp. The hand moved up, and the darkness faded, revealing it to be that of a fifty-foot Devil, standing on a craps table the size of a football field. At this image, the real Cuphead started whimpering and shaking violently. Rivers of sweat ran down his body while the liquid in his head overflowed onto the floor. With a malicious smile, the Devil rolled out his hands across the table. Where Mugman should’ve been sat a pair of “snake eyes.” The dream Cuphead dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands. “OH NO! NO NO NO, WHAT HAVE I DONE?!!” The Devil bellowed a maniacal laugh that roared like thunder. For the real Mugman, enough was enough. He rushed toward his brother’s bed, shaking him gently, but firmly. “Cuphead! Cuphead, wake up! Snap out of it! I-It's just a dream! Wake up!” No reaction; this was a much deeper sleep than he'd thought. Mugman anxiously looked around the room, and then grabbed a stray top that was sitting near the toy box. He stuck it inside his straw with the pointy end facing out, resembling a makeshift spear, and used it to pop the dream bubble as though it were a balloon. ”AHHHH!!!” Cuphead jerked awake, gasping for breath while his body continued dripping with sweat. Mugman carefully placed his brother's head back in its body, and gave him the warm, protectigve embrace he was about to receive in the dream. "It's ok, Cuphead. I'm here. I saw the whole thing. No Devil or nobody's gonna take me anywhere." Cuphead sat there with his eyes wide open, his mind still trying to process what had just happened. "Mug? How did you...? I-I thought you were..." At that second, it dawned on him that he was no longer dreaming, and that his dear brother was very much alive and well. Overwhelmed and shaken, poor Cuphead buried his face in Mugman's shoulder, revealing the contents in his head to be none other than a waterfall of tears. The pain that Cuphead had been repressing all night had manifested physically as well as emotionally. The relief of finally letting them both go was enough to make the poor little cup cry further. Mugman didn't pay any attention to how wet he was getting from his brother's breakdown. He just kept holding Cuphead close, gently rocking him as if he were the younger brother. "Shhhh, there there. It's ok. Just let it all out. I'm here for you." Cuphead nearly choked on his words. "Thank goodness..." A few minutes later, once Cuphead felt he'd gotten everything off his chest, he sat back up, and looked at his brother straight in the eye. "Mugman, I-I gotta ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me, ok? D-Don't try to lie to me just to make me feel better." An unusual request, but Mugman obliged. "Of course, Cuphead. What is it?" "W-W-Well," Cuphead swallowed hard, trying not to let voice break again. "Mugman....do...do you hate me for what I did to you?" Mugman's eyes and mouth went wide. "Cuphead, what...what kinda question is that? You're my brother; of course I don't hate you." "Well, even if I weren't your brother...say I was some humdrum son of a gun who went and took your life for granted. Would you still find it in your heart to forgive me?" Mugman paused for a second, making sure he was careful, yet earnest, in how he answered the troubled cup. "...If you still fought alongside me as if you were my brother, then yes. But you are my brother; I know you'd never forgive yourself if anything should happen to me. Is that why you were acting so strange back at the party?" "Mm-hmm. I didn't want ya t'worry." Mugman was a bit put off by this at first. Then he gave him a soft smile. "Actually, I was feelin' the same way about you." For the first time in what felt like ages, a genuine smile returned to Cuphead's face. Mug then gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "From now on, let's not feel like we gottta hide anything from each other, ok? We're brothers; we need each other, no matter what. I don't want you to feel like you can't come to me when you need help." "Same with you, Mug. I'm your big brother; what kind of fella would I be if I didn't protect you?" Mugman smirked again. "The kind of fella who'd get easily hoodwinked by the Devil's cheap tricks?" Cuphead smirked back. "Oh c'mon now, that's below the belt." "You sure could use one with how much you keep pullin' up your britches." The boys laughed, and Cuphead finished drying his eyes. "Thanks, Mugman. I really needed this." "No problem, Cup. It's what I'm here for." "I just hope these visions and night terrors I'm havin' don't become a regular occurrence. They've been scaring me something awful all night." He then fidgeted his hands in nervousness. "I-In fact, Mugs, this might sound strange comin' from me, but d-do you...do you think maybe....a-at least for tonight, y-you could-?" "Move my bed a little closer to yours?" "Y-Yeah. It'll be easier to go back to sleep knowing I've got somebody with me in case the night terrors come back." "No problem. Don't think that just because I'm younger than you I can't help you with things like bad dreams. Big brothers are allowed to be scared too, you know." "I know. I gotta stop being so afraid of looking weak in front of other people. I mean, who can call either of us weak after we just defeated the doggone Devil?" "Well, Devil or no Devil, you’re still strong in my book, Cuphead.” Cuphead and Mugman shared another warm hug. Before long, they were sound asleep in their makeshift queen bed, their heads resting on the adjacent nightstands. There was one large dream bubble floating over their heads, depicting the brothers enjoying another round of swinging to the "Hi De Ho Man" song. The End

#cuphead #cuphead and mugman #mugman #cuphead fanfiction #fanfiction #fan #fic #fanfic #cuphead angst #angst #feels #comfort #brothers #sad

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Dusk Till Dawn

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield,

Brother!Parker Holland x Sister!Rosie Holland

-Warnings: Blood, language, angst, fluff, sadness, possible death

-Words: 2.5K

A/n: I’m sorry its short but, I ended it where I feel like I needed to end it to make people wait.

Chapter 10: Dusk Till Dawn

Words: 2.5K

All that could be felt was immense pain. A feeling of death. Tom’s head was throbbing as warm thick liquid streaked across his forehead. His head collided with the door as the copter tossed and turned.

He awoke to the thick, pungent smell of gasoline and to you, paralyzed next to him. It took a minute for him to gather his bearings. The pilot was missing, either he flew out when you crashed or went for help, who knows. Everything started to come back to him, the moments before you both crashed replaying in his head.

The pilot shouting, “MAYDAY! MAYDAY! DOES ANYONE COPY! This is flight number 514 and we are going down.”

“Tom!” “Y/N!”

And you screaming “TOM? WHAT'S HAPPENING?” “I don’t know.” He said pulling you into his arms.

It all happened so fast. First, alarms started going off within the cabin. Then, the pilot started to loose control. Twisting and turning the wheel. The helicopter did somersaults through the air. Tom could see the look on your face, a look of pure terror as the engine started to give out. You all quickly lost altitude and braced for the impact.

You and Tom’s last words were exchange of “I love you”s.

There was no soul in sight for miles, except you. Only the bright blue sky and the mountains of Montserrat. Tom didn’t know why the copter’s engine gave out 17,000 feet in the air. All he knows as you were stranded, with no sense of getting home.

The windows to helicopter were smashed, glass shards littered the floor of the cabin and the blades were deep into the ground. He was lucky the pilot didn’t fly straight into a mountain. There was no sign of the pilot, maybe he parachuted before you crash landed leaving you and Tom to your deaths. Tom didn’t know what to think. His only focus was making sure you were okay.

If it weren’t for the current predicament and the blood dripping down your face, he would have thought you were only sleeping, you looked so peaceful.

He tried to pry himself out of his seatbelt, eventually ripping it so he could get to you. Urgently checking for your pulse. Pressing two fingers below your jaw and against your neck. He was able to breathe again, once he found the faint beat of your heart.

“Y/N? Can you hear me? Wake up, darling.” Tom yelled, shaking you violently.

“Tom? What happened?” Your eyes opened abruptly, confused by your surroundings. “Our helicopter crashed—.”

“Tom, you’re bleeding.” “Not as bad as you. We have to get you out of here. Here, I’ll carry you.” You only nodded in response as Tom tucked his arms under your knees and pulled you close to his chest.

Laying you down near some rocks as far away from the ticking time bomb, the helicopter. It could blow any second, but it never did. The smoke would create the perfect signal but to no avail.

“Tom, your leg!”

“Like I said, it’s not that bad. Oh my god… your stomach” “My what… oh.” You said as you stared at the gapping puncture wound in your right side.

“Is there a first aid kit?” Tom asked. “I think it probably got lost while we were flying.”

“What happened to the pilot?” You questioned. “I don’t know. I can’t find him.” Just nodding in response. Trying not to cry at the situation. You were stranded with no sign of help any time soon.

“Y/N, I need to stop your bleeding… I have an idea. Where is your carry on bag?”

“I put it under my seat” you called out, as Tom searched for it. Opening its contents in search of fairly useful items.

Tom found a hoodie, make up remover that was 70% alcohol, antibacterial wipes, a handheld mirror, and a bunch of makeshift medical items. Your phones had been thrashed, barely working even though there was no signal. He tore the hoodie up and wrapped the pieces around your torso, almost like a tourniquet and bandage to keep pressure and stop the bleeding.

“Ahh,” you screamed, the pain unbearable as he tied the cloth tightly. “I’m sorry,” Tom apologized profusely.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.”

“Now, I have to take care of you,” you said, wiping the blood off of Tom’s.

“No, you need to rest. The kids need you alive more than they need me.” “Don’t say that. They love you and they need both of us alive and well, so let me take care of your leg.”

“Alright, even after a helicopter crash you are still bossy” Tom said chucking.

“Not trying to pick a fight here… I’m sorry but this is gonna sting,” You explained, about to clean his gash.

“It’s ok… aahhh” Tom hissed at the stinging sensation from during makeup remover on the cut on his leg.

“Bet you loved that. A way to get back at me for whatever I did that made you so mad at me,” Tom jabbed.

“You know what you did.” “Y/N this is not the time or the place for this discussion and no I don’t.”

“Let’s just get home alive and then we can resume our fight.”

“You said I love you,” Tom mumbled.

“What?”

“When we were going down… you said I love you. Did you mean it?” “Of course I meant it, Tom. We’ve been together for almost 17 years. How could I not love you?” You cried as Tom pulled you into his warm embrace. Even with the harsh breeze he was still warm to the touch.

“I love you too, darling. We will get out of this, I promise.” Tom asserted and you nodded, trying not let the tears fall.

What killed Tom was the uncertainty of it all. He had to have hope, something you were lacking. He had to have faith that you both would be rescued. That you would get to hold Parker and Rosie in your arms again.

Tom knew you would be okay and rise out of this like a Phoenix from the ashes. Overtime, Tom grew to believe you were indestructible. Everything that you had survived was a marvel. Surviving being tortured by a rival mob, almost dying in childbirth, and now a helicopter crash. There was no, if. You had to survive this. It was hard to have hope when he saw how fast you were deteriorating.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tom asked. Concerned as he noticed your breaths becoming more and more labored.

“I think so, my chest hurts though. It’s getting harder to breathe.” You said, before breaking into a fit of coughs, coughing into your hand. Panic started to arise as small increments of bloods stained your hand.

“Baby, you have to stay with me. Think about Parker and Rosie,” Tom whispered.

“Y/N, we both need to stay awake,” Tom pleaded. “I know, it’s just getting harder to,” you said, your eyes begging to close.

“I know baby. But, Parker and Rosie are waiting for us to come home. They need you Y/N, just like do,” Tom said, cupping you cheek and moving towards you, so you were side by side. Allowing you to rest you head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. For the past weeks, I’ve been so lonely in our bed without you. I’m so sorry that I accused you of cheating.”

“I am too, love. Never in a million years would I cheat on you. You have to know that. I’m so lucky to have you. I never slept with or even kissed Jazz, there’s been someone killing my men at the mob —.” He said, kissing your temple. This kiss was one of longing, he just wanted you to be his again.

“Shh, it’s ok. I don’t want the last words I ever hear to be an explanation of your supposed infidelity.” You said, using the last of energy to let out a strained laugh.

“Y/N, baby you’re not dying ok? You can’t die. Just promise me, you’ll stay awake until help comes,” Tom begged. He couldn’t lose you, not after everything that has happened. He needed you and he always will. “You know I don’t like making promises I can’t keep” you whispered, trying like hell to stay awake as a few tears fell.

It felt like hours, the waiting. The sun had set. Tom had a plan to get you both rescued, when a plane or helicopter flew overhead he would use your compact mirror to reflect the sun. Granted it was a brilliant idea when the sun was still out. If you wouldn’t succumb to your wounds by morning the temperature would certainly kill you both. You had lost all color in your face, looking like a ghost.

You weren’t unconscious but you weren’t very talkative either, which scared the life out of Tom.

Each hour Tom’s hope would fade. He never wanted it to end like this. He demanded he be the one who went first. Tom couldn’t imagine what a world without you would look like.

If it had to be this way, killed, both your prime at least he was holding you in his arms. He was close enough to the point where, if it happened, he could hear your breathing stop along with the beating of your heart. Feeling you tiny labored breaths against his neck.

5 hours, Tom had been holding you, praying you survive, praying he survives along with you.

5 hours and he was ready to give up as he saw you drift off slowly towards a deep sleep. “I’ll see you on the other side, darling” he whispered before letting his eyes flutter to a close.

Back home, everyone was secretly panicking inside. Nikki couldn’t imagine losing her eldest son, neither could Harry and Sam losing their brother. Harry had left to be a part of the search and rescue team. As soon as Paddy got word, he was on the first flight out of Monte Carlo. Dom and all the boys were really trying to keep it together for Rosie and Parker’s sake.

They all had left the news on, praying that it would be announced that you and Tom were found, alive and well. Most of the news updates were irrelevant to the Hollands. They had already known, there was a pilot, even though Tom had been taking flying lessons for years and was skillful at it. They also already knew you were on a business trip. Nothing was really news to them anymore.

“I’m going to make some tea. Anybody want a cup?” Nikki asked, needing a distraction from the chaos. “Yes,” replied Rosie. “Please,” responded Parker. “That’d be wonderful darling,” said Dom. “Just what the doctor ordered. Let me help you with that,” said Sam. They were all big fans of a cup of tea. What couldn’t tea fix?

DING DONG

Rang the door bell. Nobody was really up for visitors but, I would be rude to not answer. Hoping it not some nosy reporters trying to get a story from broken family members of you and Tom.

“Rosie could get that, please?” Nikki called from the kitchen.

“Sure Grandma,” Rosie replied somberly. Opening the door to the last person she expected to see but the first person she wanted to see. After her parents, of course.

“I just came to see if you were okay. My dad is doing everything he can through the business side… I know you need your space. This was a mistake, I’ll go.” Henry said, staring at the ground. “Please, stay,” Rosie muttered, teary-eyed from all the crying.

“You mean it?”

“I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Hey, come here. They’ll be okay.” Henry said, wrapping his arms around her. Oh god, how missed comforting her.

“Henry, I’m so scared. What if we can’t find them?”

“Roo, we will find them. You have to have hope.” “I keep thinking we find them, but they’re dead.” “You can’t think like that,” he said, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“I missed you. Thanks for being here, you’re a nice distraction” “I’ll always be here,” he whispered, cut off by Rosie’s lips against his. It didn’t take long for him to kiss back. This was his second chance and he wasn’t going to miss it.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” Rosie said, pulling away.

“No, I’m sorry. I really screwed up. I never should’ve broken up with you. I love you too much, Rosie Louise Holland. Take me back?”

“I’ve always loved you, Henry Maxwell Osterfield. Of course,” reassured Rosie. Capturing his lips once more in a more passionate yet gentle kiss. “Wait, I have something for you,” Henry stopped, pulling out something from his back pocket.

“That is, if you still want it,” he explained, holding you the silver charm necklace adorned with a H and a R. “Duh, div. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Rosie quipped as he clasped the necklace together. “There. Now it’s back in its rightful place,” she said, the biggest smile adorning her face. “Rosie, get in here! There’s an update,” called Parker from the living room.

Rosie pulled Henry through foyer and to the family room for the news. She tensed at the thought of the words “2 DEAD” displaying across the silver screen.

“We’ve just got word that both Tom and Y/N have been found. We are unaware of their condition. They are being airlifted to a hospital in Barcelona. Hopefully we can update you on that once families members have been informed. The pilot is still missing. Please stay with us as we continue to update you on this story,” announced the newscaster. Everyone rejoiced, there were no longer sad tears only happy ones. They were all on the first flight out including Harrison and Henry.

It was miracle, they found you when they did. Harry was part of team in rescuing you and Tom. He refused to sleep until he brought you both back home.

“We found them!” A loud speaker sounded from the chopper flying above. The rescue was eminent, you and Tom were found.

“Get two stretchers over here,” called one of the rescuers.

“Tom? Can you hear me? It’s Harry,” Harry said, trying to wake Tom.

“Harry?” Tom whispered, slightly stirring awake.

“Yes, you’re saved. We got you and we are on our way to the hospital.”

“What about Y/N? She’s lost a lot of blood. Please tell me she’s ok,” Tom pleaded, eyes barely even open.

“They got her in the other chopper. She’s gonna be ok, I promise,” Harry stammered.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Tom whispered before being consumed by darkness.

A/n: I just want to apologize here, I'm sorry. I'm so in love with this chapter and couldn't wait to share it with all of you.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist:@thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom #mob!tom #mob tom #mob!tom x reader #dad!mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x mob!reader

[missnmikaelson-main]

The Forgotten - Chapter 18

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 , Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17,

1919

++++

She tapped a silver coin against her thigh.

Somehow it always came back to money.

Wealth, power, land; wars had been waged across history over man's desire for those three things. Very few skirmishes could be directly linked to woman – at least in the mortal world – but she wasn't fool enough to believe women were more level-headed. They rarely instigated wars because they lacked the authority to summon the numbers needed for battle, as a result they were often relegated to behind the scenes roles.

Her free hand brushed the fringe of hair from Thierry's brow. His mouth puckered but he remained asleep and she watched his chest rise and fall.

Rebekah kept her in the loop – Bekah always kept her in the loop – but she had already known Papa Tunde was killing left and right; she would have to have been a fool not to notice. Even the humans were catching on. The self proclaimed king had slaughtered humans, wolves, vampires and witches alike.

According to Rebekah, Elijah planned to negotiate a truce with the man nobody could kill – a man who had brought a reign of terror to New Orleans, a man who had brought that terror directly to her door.

She knew both brothers would go to the summit, giving a perfect opportunity to sneak into the compound. She could find Kol and use the dagger to find the others and save Rebekah a nap of her own – it was only fear of Klaus that kept her from waking Kol herself, but she could have him back in twenty-four hours; all she had to do was let Elijah negotiate a deal with Papa Tunde.

He would never be satisfied. She had seen it in his eyes. The man was obsessed with power. He might honour Elijah's terms for a time before he demanded more. Elijah would refuse and cite their former deal. Papa Tunde would return to sacrificial magic.

There was a reason not to negotiate with terrorists.

Her thumb traced the '1987' etched into the quarter, but her eyes never left Thierry.

How long before she saw her son's head on a spike with Tunde's mark?

She knew how to stop him. She knew what to do, but she also knew the cost.

To stop the horror – to save her son – she had to sacrifice Kol and her morals. She could have found another opportunity to get him back because more would arise – of that she felt certain – but to stop Papa Tunde she would have to cross a line that she could never uncross.

++++

There were six streets between her and the Mikaelson family and in her personal opinion it was too close, but today it wasn't close enough.

She was meant to be a human woman, so she could hardly pick up her human son and race at Original speed. She could have asked Rebekah for help, but her only friend was at the sanatorium; even in the midst of chaos life went on.

"Mom,” Thierry tugged on her arm, “where are we going?"

"I have to talk to someone, baby,” she murmured, running a hand back through his hair.

"But we already passed Astrid's house,” he frowned and twisted back to point at the unseeing doll a few yards back.

Elena followed his eyes. The dowager had left a single window open the night she died – normally a board was kept on the interior to ward off the cold – and it was through that small space that she communed with Astrid while Thierry played in the yard and Mary-Alice plead her sanity deep within the coven madhouse.

Astrid was her sounding board; her link to the ancestral world of magic. It had been a discussion with Astrid that led to her eureka moment.

"We are not visiting Astrid, sweetie,” Elena's eyes flicked back to her path; only three more blocks. Her next words were too low for his ears. "Mommy has to make a deal with a devil."

Three blocks later the compound loomed, imposing on her personal space, demanding that she cower in fear. As an Original hybrid she knew logically that there was no reason for her terror, but there was still a piece of her – buried inside – that screamed ‘run'; ‘run from him and everything he represents’: but a second voice – the louder voice – quoted words that wouldn't be penned for nearly a century – a variation anyway: 'kill the girl, so the woman can live’.

She was not a scared little girl anymore. She was a woman; she had responsibilities – people who depended on her – so she ignored the warnings and old internal alarms. She gripped her son's small hand, walked past the 'M' emblazoned on the wall and came face-to-face with one of the few men capable of sending her head into a tailspin.

"Elijah,” she straightened her shoulders. "I'm glad I caught you.” Part of her expected to hear her name roll off his tongue in soft syllables, but that was a different Elijah.

"Forgive me,” his eyes widened, and then narrowed, searching the far corners of his mind, "have we met?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but was stopped by the arrival of the second man who wreaked havoc on her brain.

"What seems to be the delay, brother?” He clapped Elijah on the back. "It's not like you to keep a man waiting. Who is this?"

Blue eyes flickered to Thierry and back to Elena; recognition passed through the depths. He knew her face, but he couldn't place it.

"Isobel Vanchure,” she glanced down when Thierry shifted, half-hiding behind her legs. She wished in that moment for a larger support system that she could trust. Her eyes returned to the brothers. "I maintain one of your properties on the other side of the Quarter."

"Right,” Elijah nodded, placing her glamoured appearance, “if there is a problem with the property it will have to wait,” he moved around her, "I'm just on my way to a meeting."

Her hand shot out, fingers curling tightly around his elbow. She checked her strength at the last second and kept it at a human level.

"You can't make a deal with Papa Tunde,” her eyes flashed.

"I beg your pardon?" He looked with amusement toward her hand.

Klaus' voice held no trace of mirth. "What does a human know of Papa Tunde?"

Her eyes narrowed, flickering to a nearby vase and back; the heavy ceramic flew through the air and came to a stop before it could hit Klaus.

"Do I have your attention?” They dragged their gaze from the hovering vase to her. "Or would you like to check for wires?"

"You may be a witch, Mrs. Vanchure, but that fails to answer my inquiry. Why can't I make a deal?" Elijah watched her with growing annoyance, pulling his arm free with the arrogance of someone whose authority had never been questioned.

“You're over nine-hundred years old and you need me to tell you why giving in to a bully is a bad idea?” Her left eyebrow rose. She ploughed through before either could call her out for knowing their age. "He might want you to think he has all of the power, but he won't until you go through with this. If you give in he'll play along for awhile, but then he'll be right back at it. He won't stop until he controls everything."

"Is it possible you're underestimating his character?" Elijah sighed, deciding to humour her.

Elena searched his eyes for a long moment. “You're not foolish enough to over-estimate Papa Tunde,” she shook her head.

"Mom?" Thierry whispered, tugging at her hand. “Who is Papa Tunde?"

"He was the man who came by the house,” Elena didn't bother keeping her voice low, nor did she attempt to hide the flash of fear in her eyes.

"The man with the funny accent, and quiet sons?" He frowned.

"Yes, baby."

"He was on the property?” Elijah's brow lowered.

"Yesterday,” Thierry chirped, trying to be helpful. "Mommy told me to go to bed," his smile dropped, "even though there was still twenty minutes 'til bedtime."

The way he dragged out the time made it sound like Elena had stolen years off his young life. He brightened a few seconds later.

"It's okay though 'cause Mommy promised we could go see the brass bands next week.” Excitement lit up his eyes. "She said the trumpet player is amazing."

"Do you like music, then?" Klaus crouched down. The genuine smile on his lips took Elena by surprise; his mouth was meant to curve in cruel smirks or a manic grins.

"I love music, 'specially jazz," Thierry bounced on his toes, out now from her skirts. "Mommy says when I was little I would only sleep when she played a jazz album."

"And I suppose you're all grown up now?” Klaus tilted his head.

"No,” he laughed, puffing out his chest, "but I'm bigger; I'm big enough to play the trumpet."

"I've told you already that your hands are too small," Elena reached for his shoulder.

"We'll just see about that,” Klaus' dropped his voice to a solemn level and stood, placing one hand on Thierry's unclaimed shoulder and steering him into the compound. He gestured to a hall beneath a set of stairs.

"The third door on the left is the music room. In it you will see every instrument imaginable; find the trumpet and we shall prove your mother wrong."

Thierry looked back over his shoulder, but took off running when Elena nodded her permission.

"I'd estimate five minutes for you to get to your point," Klaus watched him go before following Elijah's lead and laying an expectant gaze on their guest.

"He came by the property?" Elijah prompted, curiosity winning out over manners.

"I've made no secret of my opposition – I've been wary since the day he came to town. When he knocked on the door he was coming for my head,” she inhaled slowly through her nose. She knew he couldn’t have harmed her, but without the protections she had placed around the house he could have incapacitated her and taken Thierry.

"Thankfully it's still attached,” Klaus smirked, eyes twinkling. "It would be a shame to spoil such a lovely face with that charlatan's mark."

"That mark,” Elena closed her eyes to steel her nerves. The next words out of her mouth may as well have been an execution sentence. "His power lies in his marks. In order to channel the energy from his sacrifices he has to draw it through a conduit...” she told herself that the two men were already dead. "If you destroy the conduit you will weaken him significantly."

"And you know where to find this conduit?” Klaus glanced at his brother – the pair had an entire conversation with their eyes in the space between heartbeats – a human wouldn't have noticed.

She wasn't human.

"Ask yourself this,” she turned her gaze to the hall when Thierry came scurrying back; Klaus had under-estimated the capabilities of an excited human child. "What is Papa Tunde never without?"

"I found it,” Thierry declared, holding up the gleaming trophy.

"Something that bears his mark.” There was no question in Elijah's voice.

"Or someone,” Klaus gave a pointed look to the child at his feet, struggling in vain to reach the valves with his small hands.

Elena followed his gaze and gave a minute nod; Klaus mirrored the motion then turned a bright grin on Thierry.

"I think your mother might be right; you're not quite big enough."

"I'll never be big enough," he sighed, holding the instrument out to Klaus.

++++

The next morning Elena nursed a lukewarm cup of coffee as the sun crested the horizon and cast long shadows through the kitchen. For the first time in her immortal life she had blood on her hands, and even though the information saved hundreds of innocents it still weighed on her mind.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't hear the buzz of the doorbell until the person gave up and began to bang on the door.

She abandoned the nearly full cup and ran to the door. It was a good thing she hadn't removed her glamour the previous night because she didn't think to cast it; lucky since Klaus was on the other side of the door.

"Do you always knock on doors at the crack of dawn?"

"I could hear you awake,” he lowered his hand to his side. “I thought it better to knock; you didn't react so well the last time you found me in the entry."

"I was wondering if you remembered me."

"It took some time to come back,” he smirked. "You're awake early."

"I haven't been to bed," she admitted. "Between the threats to myself and my son, and the execution I all but ordered last night rest has been elusive."

"Then I come with excellent news,” he tilted his head." Your information proved fruitful. Papa Tunde is dead and you may rest easy."

She rocked back on her heels, doubting rest would come.

"Thank you,” she lowered her eyes, frowning when she saw the box under his right arm. "What's that?"

"A small token,” he held out the box, letting go when she took it.

Elena turned the case over slowly, inspecting the clasps.

"I'm not going to find a severed limb in here, am I?" She looked up through her lashes.

"That would be a highly inappropriate gift for a child," he scoffed, expression softening into something she didn't recognize on his face: gratitude. "Get some rest Mrs. Vanchure, and – should you feel so inclined – drop by the compound tonight for the celebration."

++++

2011

One Month Later

++++

Senses returned slowly, they always did regardless of whether he had slept eight hours or eight decades under a mystical influence. His limbs tingled, pins and needles signalling the oncoming consciousness.

Pains gripped his stomach, clawed behind his eyes and clung to every extremity.

A muscle spasm wracked his arm, but he barely felt it for the slim fingers that curled around his hand. A thumb smoothed over his knuckles as the pleading whisper traveled along his skin.

"Please...” the voice wavered, on the cusp of breaking, "please open your eyes. Give me some indication that I didn't screw this up. Please..."

Something wet dropped on his knuckles, rolled down his hand and left a trail over his arm.

"I..." his voice cracked, raw from disuse. He swallowed twice, forced his eyes open and tried again; meeting her red eyes and forming each word with deliberate care. "I’m n-not worth crying over, darling."

A tiny giggle burst from her parted lips, wet and hysterical. She let go of his hand and shifted, grabbing either side of his face so she could kiss him; his brow, his cheeks and finally his lips. Tears slipped from her eyes.

He reached with shaking hands and wiped the moisture with his thumbs.

"I mean it, darling,” he smirked, "I am not worth your tears."

"You let me be the judge of that, Kol Mikaelson,” she touched her forehead to his and moved one hand down to cover his heart. "You earned every tear I shed, and every tear I would have cried and still might if my spell fails."

"You? Fail?" His fingers threaded through her hair. "Never,” conviction clung to the syllables.

"So much faith,” she closed her eyes. "Clearly you've forgotten our early magic lessons."

"You always got it right in the end." Kol pushed up on his elbow gently, holding on to her all the while. "I've died already, haven't I?"

"The moment I unlinked you from Rebekah," she chewed her bottom lip, hoping his sire line would survive the transition as well.

"Then the first part worked beautifully,” his hand slipped down her spine. He hated to let go, but now he knew what the aches were and he had to unless he wanted the death to be permanent. "Shall we finish this?"

Elena nodded, leaned back and reached for a bag of her human blood on the nightstand. She held her breath as he opened the bag and started to drink, sagging only when his face shifted and his body completed the transition.

Kol saw the look on her face when he drained the bag. He reached for her hand and squeezed.

"I never doubted you, Elena Gilbert."

"That's okay,” she caught a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth. "I've had more than enough doubt for the both of us."

"Why would you ever...” he paused to pull her thumb into his mouth and clean the blood with his tongue,"...doubt yourself?"

"You've missed a lot," she sighed.

"Then you must fill me in," he wrapped his arms around her waist, marvelling at the strength he sensed in his muscles, “but first..."

Elena laughed as she was deposited on the bathroom counter.

"You couldn't shower alone?"

"Every time I let you out of my sight you wind up in some supernatural mess; it's safe to say that I'm never leaving you alone again."

"You might get sick of me after a few centuries," she warned.

"Never."

++++

Elena squeezed the worst of the water from her hair with a towel and leaned back against the headboard, folding her legs beneath her body. Her dark eyes flickered to the ensuite door where the final tendrils of steam curled out, evaporating before they could reach her perch.

"That looks familiar," he flashed across the room and leaned against the headboard beside her.

"Someone got my clothes all wet,” she shrugged, pulling a damp curl from underneath his collar. "I had to wear something."

"So you stole the shirt I had for myself?” He cooked an eyebrow.

"It looks better on me,” she tossed the towel aside. The tip of her nail traced a tingling line down the centre of his chest towards his belt. "And you look much better like this."

"Why, Miss Gilbert,” he put on a scandalized air, "are you objectifying me?"

Before she could answer he flipped her over and pressed her body into the comforter.

"I really love this shirt, darling,” his fingers slid over her thigh, working the material higher. "So, despite looking phenomenal on you, I must reclaim it.” As he spoke he leaned lower until the last words were whispered against the shell of her ear.

"You know, most people would be eager to get out after a month in bed,” she breathed.

"Why would I leave when everything I could ever want is right here?" Genuine curiosity chased any teasing from his voice and eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Four walls can get dull after a time," her eyes sparkled.

Kol turned his head, dragging his nose over her cheek until his lips brushed her mouth. "It is not the walls that interest me." He kissed her softly. "I just want to enjoy the calm before one of my brothers descends with chaos in their wake."

"Your brothers aren't here,” her fingers explored the strong muscles in his back slowly, as if she had all the time in the world to memorize how he felt.

"I worked that out when I couldn't hear them."

Kol rolled onto his back at her silent urging. He drank in her appearance with his eyes, staring unabashed at the curve of her cheeks and the beginning of a frown line that would never deepen.

"Did you also work out that they're not coming back?"

She rested her hands on his chest, traced an all but faded scar above his heart and tilted her head. Kol didn't have to look to see what she had found.

"That's where my father ended my human life," his fingers curled around her wrist. His eyes widened after a moment.

"What do you mean they're not coming back? Did mother –"

"No,” she pressed her fingers to his lips; a small smile crossed her face. "Everyone is fine... for the most part."

"For the most part?" He frowned, arching an eyebrow. He sat up slowly, holding her waist with one hand. "What exactly does that mean?"

He told himself that nothing was seriously wrong. She would have told him the moment he completed the transition. She wouldn't have waited so long to break the news. If one of them had been hurt she would have said.

"You missed a lot,” she shifted, moving to sit beside him, but he held her tight so she settled for resting her weight on his thighs. "What do you want to know first?"

"Start with the eldest. Where is Finn?"

"He left for New York a few days ago. The moment he knew I had things handled he went with Sage; he said something about seeing everything he missed."

"Sage is alive?” Kol tilted his head. He remembered the woman well; after Finn went against everything he believed to turn her, he had made it his mission to learn why. Sage had reminded his brother what it was to be human; she had turned his rare guarded smiles into signs of genuine happiness.

"Yup," Elena nodded. "She has been trying to catch up with all of you for nine-hundred years, and because of her you came this close,” she held her thumb and forefinger close together, "to spending eternity in a mystical coma, linked to Rebekah, but since she didn't know what she was doing, and we managed to locate more, I forgave her for burning the white oak. Now she and Finn are off somewhere with promises to check in,” she waved in the general direction of New York. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you upset he's not here?"

"A little,” he shrugged. "I've barely spent any time with him in centuries, but I can hardly begrudge him for desiring distance. What about Elijah?"

"New Orleans,” she licked her lips, "Thierry has been keeping an ear to the ground for me. There were whispers of a witch plotting against an Original, and when I worked out that it wasn't me Elijah went to investigate."

"I see," he nodded slowly, "and what about Nik?"

A line appeared between his brows when her grin broadened into something between smugness and glee. "What did you do, darling?"

"Nothing much,” she shrugged, unable to hide her grin, "I just gave him a taste of his own medicine."

"Meaning?” He tried for stern, but her grin proved infectious.

"Well," she looped her arms around his neck. "Bonnie came around – we won't be braiding each other's hair anytime soon; but she accepted my apology and understood why I had Stefan and Damon do what they did. She helped break the link between us and worked with me to cast a spell I'd been working on for decades."

"Oh, really?"

"Uh-huh,” she nodded. "We actually did the spell first, and it worked out perfectly. Klaus asked if the unlinking had worked and I suggested we test it. He had barely agreed before I lodged a dagger in his heart."

"You stabbed my brother?” He held his breath. "You stabbed Nik and lived to tell the tale?"

"That spell I was working on was the one you had Astrid and Mary-Alice working on," her heart sped up. "I stabbed him with a gold dagger dipped in white oak ash. Klaus is in a supernatural time-out. Rebekah pushed for a minimum of fifty-two years. Finn wanted to leave him for centuries until he regained consciousness – that's a whole other story. And Elijah thought waking him and letting him know what had happened would be effective enough."

"But he is still asleep though, so what did they agree on?"

"I suggested a century, and to appease Finn I promised to find a way to give him back his consciousness near the end." She chewed her bottom lip. "I'm sure they'd renegotiate if you wanted to."

He leaned back, inhaling slowly.

"I think a century should teach him a lesson and keep him from ever daggering one of us again."

"You're onboard then," she sighed, playing with the hair at the back of his neck. "Although, you should know that I made a few modifications to the spell so the daggers won't affect you anymore – not without altering the base metal."

"Base..." he frowned, "what exactly did you do to me?"

"The same thing Freya did to me – assuming I did it right...” She waited for the moment of realization and saw when it flared in his eyes.

"You gave me back my magic?" He spoke slowly, hopefully.

“I tried,” she spun the pyrite ring around with her thumb, "but you're the only one who can tell me if it worked." He stilled and she tilted her head. "What's wrong? Don't tell me you've got performance anxiety,” she teased.

He pinched her hip, but didn't correct her. It had been a thousand years since he felt magic in his veins and he couldn't decide if that was the source of the tingle beneath his skin or whether it was caused by her presence or just nerves.

"Hey,” she held either side of his face. "It's alright; take your time, and if it helps: the fact that you're alive is a really good indication that I got it right."

He fixed his eyes on the shelf beyond her shoulder and the books that lined it, focusing on a slim red volume. It took more concentration then he remembered using before the book lurched off the shelf, soared across the room and thumped against the mattress.

“Your aim is off; you might want to work on that,” she picked up the novel. "Would you like some lessons?"

"Don't forget who taught you," he rolled his eyes. "I'm out of practice..."

"You'll pick it up again,” she gave him a small nudge.

"Exactly,” he nodded solemnly. He couldn't hold the expression for long though before a grin threatened to split his face. Words of gratitude failed him so he did the only thing he could think to do and kissed her, pouring every emotion he felt into it.

Sheer joy raced through his body and he laughed into the kiss. He pressed featherlight kisses over every inch of exposed skin he could reach.

His elation dropped a fraction when the door swung inwards. Rebekah hopped on the end of the bed and he rolled his eyes.

"Your timing is impeccable, sister,” he sighed, but the smile never left his lips.

"I gave you two hours,” she shrugged. "Did you get to the bit about mother yet?" Her eyes flickered to Elena.

"Not yet,” she twisted to sit against the headboard, smiling softly when his hand slid down to rest on her knee. "I was focusing on the happy news."

"What happened with mother?"

"She disappeared,” Elena tucked her hair behind her ear, "reappeared, tried to kill us all again and when that didn't work she killed herself."

"We burnt her body in case she got any ideas about coming back,” Rebekah fiddled with a box in her lap.

“I thought you had to have a Mikaelson witch, and while we're on that topic didn't Nik turn mother?"

"Yes,” Rebekah turned her eyes on Elena.

She swallowed and fiddled with her ring.

"After I turned I started looking for spells that dealt with time,” she admitted quietly. "I found one that allowed me to send someone back a few hours. And before you can scold me, yes, I know crossing into one's own life is dangerous, and I knew, if it came down to it, having you present would work, but I was scared even tied to Rebekah your body wouldn't be able to take the stress of channeling magic, so when Finn volunteered I sent him back to stop Klaus. I've regretted it since your mother made her daring escape."

"And luckily her fear turned out to be unwarranted paranoia. Here," she held out the box.

"Mother is dead," Kol watched Elena take the box and turn it over. "Were there any ill effects from your spell?”

"Aside from the consequences of leaving your mother as a witch no, there were none,” Elena shook her head. "Finn knew to stay out of sight until it was done, at which point the past version of him disappeared and I thanked anyone who might be listening that we didn't get caught in a time loop. What is this?" She looked to Rebekah.

"Present from Elijah, sent by express mail," she shrugged.

"Elijah is sending you gifts,” Kol arched an eyebrow.

"Aw," Rebekah smirked, “don't be jealous; it was just a fling."

"Not funny, Bex,” Elena scolded, but she couldn't help giggling when Kol glowered and mumbled something about not being jealous.

"Kol is three shades of red so I will count it as funny," she hopped to her feet. "I think I'll go take a relaxing bath."

Elena tore into the package as she moved to leave. Gold glittered as it fell, thumping against the mattress, and her heart stopped. Blood rushed from her face.

Wordlessly she picked up the dagger.

She barely heard Kol through the roar of blood in her ears.

Underneath her burning anger lurked the ghost of an emotion she had sworn would never darken her heart again: fear. He hadn't been down long enough to feel beyond vengeance, and immortal or not she didn't doubt Klaus' ability to make her life miserable.

Her eyes flickered to Rebekah and the message was clear; she couldn't be trusted to make the call without screaming into the receiver.

If Elijah knew what was good for his health he wouldn't come within three States of her.

@elejah-wonderland @elejahforever @eternityunicorn @morsmornte @fandomrulesall @xanderling @cry-btch @kol-and-elena-fanfiction @geekofmanyfandoms

#elena gilbert #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #finn mikaelson #sage #kol mikaelson #thierry vanchure #kolena #The Forgotten Fanfic

[scatterpatter]

[ROUGH DRAFT] Corren’s Backstory

Okay so i REALLLY stress the “rough draft” part because I need to run this by my dm and he’ll probably need me to make changes, but this is the general idea so far- granted its worded for him and the group who know the story already rather than for like a new player, so sorry if a lot of things are out of context XD

JAZZ THIS IS SPOILERS SO IF I CATCH YOU READING THIS ILL FITE U >:(

Content Warnings: Death, emotional and physical abuse, violence, depression

Life for Corren was pretty par for the course for a Marelienth child. He lived with his father, mother, and 2 older siblings in a somewhat large town known as Warrencrest. Warrencrest was a town nestled in the Thistlepoint mountain range- a range named for the thistle-bearing plants that lined the edges of the trails. Many adventurers traveling through the mountain range wouldn’t take the trail through Warrencrest, so the city did not see many travelers. Of course travelers and adventurers weren’t rare, but the town was mostly made of Marelienth residents.

Growing up, Corren was the youngest of three siblings- his brother Julian being the middle child and his sister Mila being the eldest of the bunch. Mila and Julian were very close in age, though Corren was considerably younger. Despite this, they were as close as siblings could be- even building a tree house on their property. Most in his town practiced spellcasting in one way or another- and that followed to his family. Julian was a necromancer, and Mila was an Evoker. Due to a lack of visitors and adventurers, there were often all sorts of jobs and mini-quests posted for townsfolk to take to earn some extra cash.

Julian and Mila were definitely the adventuring types, always taking jobs to help provide for the family when not working their usual jobs. They loved every minute of it, and they’d do it full-time if they didn’t have a family to help provide for. Corren was far too young to accompany them, since many quests involved either fighting enemies and monsters or some other form of treachery, but they let him tag along on more tame quests such as deliveries or escorts. They were both so kind and happy to have him tag along, and he wanted to be just like them when he grows up.

… But things couldn’t be perfect forever. When Corren was about the Marelienth equivalent of a pre-teen, Mila got sick. It didn’t seem serious at first, but her condition slowly began to deteriorate. No one knew exactly what this illness was nor where she contracted it, but many believe she contracted it on one of her adventures with Julian. Healers in Warrencrest did whatever they could to help save her, but for whatever reason, they couldn’t. She died in their home.

Julian and Corren were understandably devastated upon losing their big sister, and neither really knew how to cope. The day she died, they spent the entire afternoon in their treehouse, just hugging each other close and not saying a word, crying in each other’s arms. … Though, Julian was a grief-stricken young adult with a focus in necromancy. That never ends well. That night, while everyone else was sleeping, Julian snuck to where they kept Mila’s body… and attempted to use his magic to resurrect her. One cannot truly resurrect a corpse unless they are level 20, and Julian was far from 20, but that didn’t stop him.

Corren woke to the sound of screaming, rushed over to where the noise had come from- only to find his sister’s corpse, still fresh and beginning to rot… attacking his brother. Mila was not herself anymore, she was a mindless undead creature with the mind of a cornered animal. Corren watched in horror as his parents rushed over to help Julian and ultimately kill the creature that was once Mila. Being only one undead creature, the battle itself wasn’t hard, but it looked too much like Mila for anyone to willingly bring more harm than necessary to it. The battle quickly ended and she was laid to rest a final time.

This was the last straw for their parents, though. They chewed Julian out for being so reckless and for essentially desecrating their daughter’s corpse. As things escalated they eventually kicked Julian out of their home forever, unofficially banishing him from the town. Corren attempted to protest, but no one listened to him. As they were throwing him out, Julian caught one last look at his little brother and shouted “We’ll meet again, this isn’t goodbye forever!” and, as a physical reminder of this promise, threw a pendant to Corren. The pendant was nothing special- a simple amethyst wrapped with copper wiring on a chain, but Julian would always wear it, and now it belonged to Corren.

To this day, they still haven’t found each other. Julian could be long dead for all Corren knows. He has no leads on where his brother could have possibly ended up.

The next few years were the hardest. Being the Marelienth equivalent of a teenager, he now had to truly focus on studying and magic, and his parents became extremely strict with him now that he was the only child of theirs that wasn’t dead or disowned. They forbade him from any questing, as they believe that’s what killed Mila, but they also forbade anything to do with necromancy, as that’s what Julian specialized in and they didn’t want Corren to turn into someone like that. They pressured him into various “safe” schools of magic, to which Corren eventually decided on Chrono-Busting.

Over the years, the tree that their childhood treehouse rested upon grew old and began to rot, and one storm brought winds high enough that made the tree topple altogether. The treehouse was ruined and unsalvageable, and as Corren stared at the wreckage that once brought him so much joy, he felt that last pit of childhood innocence fade from his soul. He kept to his studies, completely absorbing himself in books to try and distract himself from the vast emptiness he felt inside himself. As he learned how to properly cast Rope Trick, he found the room he was brought to could be molded to look like anything he wanted… … Of course, it was that tree house. It was still empty and depressing without his siblings, but at least it gave him good memories to cling to.

 … Though, he still kept the small amethyst pendant that Julian gave him. He simply couldn’t hate his brother, no matter how much his parents tried to convince him of how awful his brother was. He still looked up to Julian and still aspired to be like him… maybe without the whole “messing up in trying to revive their dead sister” part. He couldn’t help himself, as he started to study necromancy on the side, learning a few spells in that field. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but… he simply couldn’t help himself. 

One night, however, his father caught him practicing his necromancy, and things quickly went south. Corren admittedly doesn’t remember much about what happened that night, it was a blur. All he remembers is there was a lot of yelling- mainly from his father- him trying to explain himself, his father grabbed something from the desk, a sudden movement- and next thing he knew, Corren was on the floor, a dull throbbing in his head as he only saw red from his right eye. Time felt like it slowed down from there- he wasn’t sure if it was from the adrenaline or the fact that he was studying how to manipulate time itself, but it was just enough to act before he got hurt any worse. He didn’t mean to cast a magic missile… it just… happened. To be honest, to this day he’s unsure if he killed his father or simply wounded him, because once he hurt his own parent he knew there was no going back. Panicking, he took the amethyst necklace, a cloak to shield him from the elements, and ran.

He knew he wouldn’t survive a winter in the Thistlepoint range without a proper shelter, so his first order of business was to get away from the mountains and flee to a town with a more temperate climate. As he was crossing one river, he spotted his reflection in the water and realized why his vision in his right eye had gone wonky: whatever he got hit with was sharp, and left a good scar across his eye. Great, now he looks like a criminal too. But it was something he’d have to live with. His vision returned to normal within a few weeks which was good, though of course he still needed glasses. 

The next few years he just spent on the run, hopping from town to town. He never stayed in one place too long, as he didn’t want to raise any suspicion and for people to find out he was a runaway from a town he could potentially be wanted in. He absolutely hated this life, he hated feeling like a criminal, he hated how afraid he was to be found out and forced back home, he hated how he barely scraped by… and he hated being alone. He missed Mila. He missed Julian. … At least his scar slowly healed over the years, to the point where most don’t notice. At least he didn’t look like a criminal anymore.

One day, going between towns, he ran into the city of Lilenthemar. The story he told the residents there was that he was some kind of refugee from the Crescenfall area. Luckily they seemed to trust him and his story enough to allow him to stay a while, so that became his temporary home. … One day, though, he ran into an interesting fellow by the name of Jethro Mosen. He doesn’t even remember how they began talking, especially since Corren was far from the social type. Yet- something just clicked. He found himself conversing with this man, avoiding as much about his own story as he could but rather focusing on who he currently was. Though, Jethro seemed to have picked up on something, and began asking more… intellectual questions. It felt as though he was being quizzed… but Corren didn’t study magic and history for years for nothing, so he answered everything with ease. 

Then… Jethro smiled. No one had smiled at him like that since he was a child. Before he could question it, Jethro offered to hire him as a historian for the Mosen household. Corren couldn’t believe what he was hearing. To be offered a job and a place to stay- and to offer that to a stranger? There had to be some kind of catch, right? Jethro explained that whatever his story was, he was clearly qualified. Maybe it was obvious that Corren was currently homeless and jobless, to be offered a position on the spot, but… how could he say no?

And that’s what lead him to live in Lilenthemar as he aged into adulthood. He had a job that paid for food, a shelter to keep him warm, a place far from Warrencrest… And most importantly, he had Jethro. Someone who took him in and cared for him, seeming not to care about who he used to be but rather who he is now, and was so much more than an employer, he was a friend. He was even the only person that Corren had ever told his true backstory to, and despite being a runaway criminal, Jethro was so understanding and non-judgemental to his situation. Some may think that his feelings towards his employer are romantic, and honestly Corren himself doesn’t really know what he feels for Jethro… but all he knows is that for the first time in many years, he didn’t feel completely empty anymore.

The next few years he remembered what it was like to feel happy. He grew his magical skills, still mostly chrono-based but with his typical dash of necromancy. He learned to handle firearms to defend himself if magic couldn’t suffice. He began a collection of books that quickly grew into full library now that he didn’t have to be on the run with minimal possessions anymore. He even wrote a few books based on his studies, mainly focusing on the Menoa tree. He spent much of his time studying the magical properties of this place, albeit a bit frustrated that he couldn’t ever seem to activate these supposed magical properties. He kept the amethyst pendant all these years and almost never took it off, though he usually wears it underneath his clothing to protect it, so it’s rare for anyone to actually see it. He spent much of his time with Jethro, offering to help out with chores or housekeeping whenever not doing his usual historian tasks. He would find just about any excuse to have bonding time with the other, but why wouldn’t he? He may not have been this exciting adventurer that he wanted to be when he was a child… but he had a stable life that treated him well, which is more than what most of his adolescence offered.

But then… he met the F.U.C.K.s, as Jericho was Jethro’s son and the crew needed escort to the Menoa tree. Corren was more than willing to help someone of the Mosen family, so he didn’t mind giving them escort at all. Though… they quickly revealed themselves to be so much more than a typical group of adventurers. The Menoa tree immediately reacted to their presence, putting them through a series of trials before bestowing a magical weapon to Jericho. And yet… they hardly reacted, as if this was normal to them. Corren… admittedly had a meltdown in front of them, he’ll admit it, yet he just couldn’t wrap his head around who the hell these people were! Who just shows up, activates a magical tree, accepts a magical object from said tree, then turns around and leaves like that isn’t a huge deal?! Yeah, no, that was enough excitement for him. He escorted them back and told them how to get to their next destination… then he took a goddamn nap. He was so done with that crazy shit.

… Yet, he couldn’t quite forget them as easily as he wanted to. There was something so familiar about them… and then it clicked. They were just like Julian. Loud, dorky, rushing head-first into adventure, and not questioning how crazy life was for them. He nearly forgot what living life as an adventurer could be like, since that was something he gave up in favor of a stable life. He did whatever he could to distract himself from these thoughts, yet they never failed to creep back.

One day, while with Jethro, they both received the news that Jericho and company were going to war. Not just any war, the war against the Scabbards- Corren was lucky enough to have never run into them before, but he heard the stories over what they were capable of. They both knew this wasn’t going to be an easily-won war, and many would die in its wake. Jethro was worried about his son, and could Corren blame him? They weren’t fighters, though, so all they could do was sit back and wait for news- good or bad. … Unless?

To this day he didn’t know what came over him, but Corren offered to go and assist Jericho, doing whatever he can to keep him and his party alive. He came up with every excuse to go: he was a historian and wanted to witness this historical event, he was a skilled spellcaster who could help the party when need be, he had a sniper rifle and pistol to use when not using magic, so on and so forth. Something was pushing him to join and help… and he had a feeling Jethro could see that, considering how willingly he allowed Corren to go.

And that’s how he rushed to the city of Joshua as fast as he could. Admittedly, he was pretty late in the game, considering how the walls came down and just how many either evacuated or lied dead on the ground. But he knew who he was here for, and he was determined to catch up to them… of course he tripped the moment they saw him. Of course. But he was relieved to see that everyone in the party was still alive. It took some convincing, but they let him tag along and offer whatever help he could.

This had to be the worst place to begin adventuring- right near the climax of a brutal war? Well, things were never easy for Corren, so he gladly took on the challenge. Maybe it was rude to feel so exhilarated when so many were dying around him, but hey, he’s part-necromancer, death is far from foreign to him. But what made his heart race more than anything was the party he was with. They were brave and strong, inspiring and kind, even if annoying and confusing at times- they were just like Julian. In every action they took, in every enemy they slain, he saw his brother. He saw his brother in each and every one of them. He’d never admit it, but he was quickly growing endeared to them- he didn’t really know what he was doing, but he knew that it was right. 

All he has to do is try and prevent these dorks from getting killed.

...

No pressure or anything.

#my fics #...? #rough draft #Corren #dnd oc #this is just- the general idea of what i wanted for him #mainly 1- why he likes necromancy and 2- why hes so closed off emotionally and 3- why hed wanna help the crew

[readingwritingcrying]

I would love to read a fic where Klaus is super unwell but his siblings kind of shrug it off until he collapses and gets really disoriented/delirious - that is when everyone kind of gets super concerned and stuff. Thank u!!

This got super fluffy toward the end and it was so cute to write! Thank you so much for requesting this anon, I hope you like it! Please enjoy!

“Luther… can’t we slow down a teensy bit? Not all of us havehuge furry muscles,” whined Klaus. He felt awful – his head was stuffed and throbbing,his body was wracked with feverish chills, and all of his muscles ached. Buttoday was the day for a Very Important Bonding Exercise!

Klaus had wanted to stay home and sleep, but the look on Vanya’sface… He went with them anyway, despite feeling like complete horseshit. Itwas almost funny how they planned things. They were going on a little hike as afamily, trying to spend more time together and all that jazz. But even without theirfather looking over their shoulder, they still planned out things like it wassome sort of mission. Hell, they had meetings to plan these things! Diego hadeven scouted out the location for their hike beforehand.

It was endearing, but Klaus just wished it was any other daythey had planned this hike.

“And no one else does, Klaus! We’re just walking, we canrest when we get up to the top,” instructed Luther, his voice bordering ondefensive, probably about the furry part of Klaus’ comment. Klaus groaned andfell behind a bit to walk next to five.  Being in nature sure seemed to make him just atad less sassy – it must have been very different than the apocalypse. At themoment, the fresh air did little for him other than aggravate his sneeze.

“Ugh, I feel awful,” said Klaus. They were going up a slopeand his head was pounding with each step. His lungs were so tight, he didn’tthink he was getting much air in at all.

“Do you ever stop trying to get sympathy?” Okay, so Five’ssassiness? Not diluted as much as he thought.

He felt a little stung by his siblings’ lack of attention tohis clear suffering, but Klaus tried to brush it off. “Why can’t anyone showany love for their poor sick brother?” Klaus threw himself into dramatics,voice wavering as if he were about to cry. He saw Diego shaking his head. Helooked to Vanya who gave him a half-hearted smile and shrug.

“Klaus, just stop and tell them how you’re feeling,”insisted Ben, ever the voice of reason.

“Oh, because that’s gone so well? Klaus looked to his deadbrother. Lucky bastard. At least if you were a ghost you didn’t have to feelthis shitty.

“If you’re a ghost you have to be stuck with your brother whoconsistently makes poor life decisions.” Klaus glared at Ben.

“Hey!” It always freaked him out how well he could readKlaus’ expressions, it gave him the sneaky impression that he was some freaky telepath.Well, that would be less freaky than eldritch tentacle monster in your chest,but still. He noticed Allison giving him a weird look. He stuck his tongue outat her.

Klaus let himself fall into a steady silence after that, managingto mostly follow the conversation of his siblings. They were chatting, laughing– acting more like a family then he thinks they ever really had before.

He just couldn’t keep up with the details enough tocontribute to anything. Vaguely, he noticed that Ben’s comments to him startedgetting less reprimanding and more concerned, fading into worried looks.

God, he felt horrible. His head was spinning. If he thoughtit was difficult to breath earlier, well that was easy-peasy compared to now! Heknew that it was warm out, but his skin felt freezing, and all his shiveringjust made his muscles ache even more. When they came to a few steps of stairs,Klaus’ vision got spotty.

“H-hey guys? Can we stop for a second? I’m not feeling toogreat…” said Klaus, his voice quiet, in stark contrast of his usual dramaticlilt.

Luther glanced back at him, and then to the trail in front ofthem. “We only have a minute or two to the top, we should just go. Drink somewater or something, maybe stop smoking,” said Luther. Ouch.

His sibling knew he was sober from everything at the moment,but he couldn’t bring the energy to argue with Luther’s callous statement. Ben lookedready to throw down.

…why? Klaus stared at Ben’s angry face. He thinks that hislips were moving, but he couldn’t see what he was saying. He couldn’t rememberif that was important or not. His vision was narrowing, so he stopped, leaningagainst a tree.

His siblings kept walking. Were they going to leave himalone? Klaus felt a flicker of panic in his chest. He wanted to go home, wantedto be in bed, but he didn’t want to be alone. He tried to step forward to goafter them, but his knees buckled, and he found himself on the dirt trail.

His head swam, the dizziness not subsiding even though hewas no longer standing. It took all of his focus just to keep from throwing upas his stomach flipped uncomfortably.  

The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by concerned voices.“Klaus? Klaus, can you hear me?”

“Klaus, are you alright?”

“Dammit, Klaus!”

He whimpered. There were too many voices, they were loud andsounded angry. He tried to scoot back, but he was backed up against a tree.Trapped.

His mind flickered to somewhere else, dark, damp, cold. Hewas huddled in the corner, cold stone the only thing that ground him at thatmoment, but it was the same thing that trapped him there. The voices were callinghis name over and over, louder each time. A hand reached out to him, and heturned away.

He wanted to close his eyes but he was terrified just asmuch of not seeing the ghosts as he was of seeing them. Klaus was frozen.

A hand touched his shoulder, gentle. No, that wasn’t right,was it? The dead couldn’t touch him. And they certainly wouldn’t be so gentle aboutit even if they could.

“Klaus? Hey, it’s me, it’s going to be alright,” said the voice.Was he having some sort of nightmare?

“D-dave?” Klaus called out blindly. He wasn’t sure what wasgoing on, he could barely tell what was going on around him. Just that he feltawful like he was dying or something. “Dave, please!”

“Shit, he’s completely out of it – that fever can’t be safeat all.”

“I had no idea it was that bad…”

“We need to get him out of here, to a hospital asap!”

“I agree, we can’t risk it.”

Klaus focused in on one word, causing him to shake even more.He was trembling like a leaf. “No! No hospital, please, no hospital,” beggedKlaus. There were so many dead there, all sick or gruesome and angry. The wallswere filled with memories of overdoses and forced stays; no matter how awful hefelt, he didn’t want to be there, not while he had any sort of say in it.

He felt two pairs of hands hoist him up. He blacked out briefly,head rushing with blood as his stomach twisted uncomfortably. Klaus groaned.

“Hey, it okay,” comforted one of his siblings. He thought itwas Vanya, with such a gentle tone.

“We just need to get you back to the car, can you walk downwith help?” That must have been Diego? Klaus shook his head. It was all hecould do just not to pass out as it was.

He heard a sigh, and then a large pair of arms scooped him up bridal style. He nestled hisface into the crook of his brother’s muscles. It was oddly comforting. “I’vegotcha,” said Luther. He may be awkward at the comforting thing, but his voicewas nonetheless comforting to Klaus in his current state.

Klaus faded in and out as they returned to the van. He onlyremembered the trip in flashes – the top of the trees and the sun in theleaves, someone – Allison? – holding his hand and squeezing.

“No hospital,” he asserted as the car came into the view.Luther sighed.

“It alright Klaus, no hospital. Mom can take care of you. We’rejust going home.” Was that Five? Klaus quieted.

They got him into the car, and he quickly fell asleep onVanya’s shoulder. Five sat next to him, letting Diego drive without complaint(for once).

He had seen his family killed once, he didn’t want Klaushurt again.

When Klaus woke up, he still felt like shit. But hissiblings – all of them, not just Ben – were there for him. Five thought he wassneaky, coming in when he thought Klaus was sleeping to watch over him. When Klausgot bored of his bedrest, Vanya came in, playing songs that captivated him (oroccasionally, brought him to a peaceful sleep, which didn’t seem to offend herat all). Diego chatted with him, Luther brought him soup and tea, and Allisoneven read to him.

For once, Klaus didn’t feel like he was fucking everythingup. Maybe it wasn’t a perfect hiking trip, but it seemed like family bondingwas happening regardless.

#tua #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #klaus whump #tua fanfic #tua fic #tua klaus #klaus angst #umbrella academy klaus #tua whump #tua angst #sickfic #tua sickfic #sick!klaus #number five #umbrella academy luther #tua luther #diego hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #allison hargreeves #ben hargreeves #hurt comfort #prompts #request #anon