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littlewetbeast · 3 years

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you know... sometimes i think i've got jackles figured out, i think i've nailed down why he's so inconsistent about destiel, why he acts so weird about it sometimes and other times not. then some information is flung at me and it's back to square one. why is that man so insane. he just genuinely confuses me.

aw man. this shit is like catnip to my overactive, over-analytical brain.

okay. listen. i’m not gonna lie: the more i try to understand the goings-on behind spn with any degree of nuance, the more my head threatens to melt. HOWEVER. while i joke about jensen ackles being an enigma, i don’t... actually think he is.

[disclaimer: the following points include speculation. i don’t know these people and will never claim to. this is just my take on it. never bring this up to the actors in question.]

the quick and dirty: i believe jensen is likely queer himself. i believe that he strongly identifies with dean, that he feeds off of the environment around him, and that how he feels he can act around destiel and dean’s sexuality depends on 1) his support network, 2) the immediate social environment, and 3) his work environment, all of which have evolved throughout the years BUT can also vary day to day. increased confidence and securer social environment has helped him decrease the need to perform and lessens the likelihood of acting out from insecurity, but doesn’t completely eliminate it. point is: the environment matters. the more insecure you are, the more it will affect your behaviour.

that’s it. not trying to excuse any shitty behaviour, just saying that’s what it is.

the NOT so quick and dirty: so - my point is, as a queer guy in this industry, he has obviously learned to put up a front to protect himself. (even misha does this to some extent!) it’s douchey, and it’s stupid, but i understand it. think of the drastic difference of how he behaves around misha vs j*red, or even in a large group setting. i’m not saying he’s not friends with j*red, but i DO immediately see the difference of ‘front switched on’ and ‘front switched off’.

firstly - just because jensen has matured a lot over the past 15 years and is far more relaxed about himself today than he was back then, doesn’t mean he can’t still have moments of uncertainty that can occasionally push him back to his old, bad habits. basically, for someone who has grown up in a toxic heteronormative environment (being taught by his dad that drinking through straws was gay) - and in an industry that is very unfriendly to queerness and queer narratives until VERY recently (and even now is still pretty toxic) - utilizing his stupid douchey dudebro front during moments of anxiety has probably been his go-to coping method for the majority of his life.

secondly - we all know he’s insanely close to dean as a character. dean is a part of him. he slips in and out of character effortlessly. he cares about dean and dean’s happiness. but dean was never intended to be a queer character. jensen has played queer characters before, but that’s the difference - he is ‘playing’ a queer character. he wasn’t supposed to be ‘playing’ dean as a queer character. readings of dean as queer makes, well. readings of him as queer. that’s it. for someone who puts up such a front, i can imagine he’d be shitting himself at people picking this up from him when he’s NOT in a supportive environment for it. (yes the ‘jackles acting choices’ are a Thing, but they most likely happened within more supportive environments and during times of confidence - and, let’s face it, i think sometimes jacting choices just naturally bleed in because he’s a good actor who makes good intuitive acting choices. that was likely the primary reason for it, especially early on.)

basically - queer readings of dean are taken as queer readings of him. therefore, his reaction to destiel has also varied depending on the environment and his work circumstances. think of there being like... a constantly shifting scale of how supportive his social environment and work environment are of queer readings of the character he plays. the further back we go, the less supportive all of these factors are; the closer to the present, the more supportive these factors are.

“but rosa! why hasn’t he just shrugged and said it’s up to audience interpretation what dean’s sexuality is, like he has recently?”

because of *points to all of the above*.

let’s illustrate what i mean.

exhibit A) it’s fairly early days of “destiel”, maybe season 6 or so. an audience member brings up dean’s reaction to dr sexy and asks why he can react like this yet destiel is not possible. jensen says dismissively because “destiel doesn’t exist” and that dean is simply a fan of the show, to an audience that cheers.

(work environment (spn): not supportive. immediate environment (audience): not supportive. social environment (j*red): less supportive*.) *I am not claiming j*red is homophobic; however, jensen HAS felt the need to perform around him aside from the last 1-2 years.

exhibit B) it’s 2019. jensen gets straddled by misha on stage and gets a [redacted] which j*red notices and covertly jokes about in front of a large audience. he visibly becomes upset and is in a vulnerable state. misha points out a ‘destiel is real’ t-shirt (the very fact that misha did this suggests he’s far more used to a jensen who is relaxed and supportive). jensen gets defensive and asks ‘where is destiel real?’

(work environment (spn): uncertain. immediate environment (audience): uncertain. social environment (j*red and misha): mixed*.) *do i think jensen would have reacted 10x better if j*red had not been there? yes. yes, i do. do i think he would he have reacted better if he hadn’t had a [redacted] that j*red made fun of? yes. yes, i do.

exhibit C) it’s 2019. jensen and j*red are in front of an audience which, given today’s times, are likely more used to queer narratives. it’s highly possible the queer storyline for cas has been confirmed at this point. jensen is calm and in control, and is not feeling the need to act up his front. someone brings up ‘samstiel’ and j*red gags. jensen, unprompted, shows support for destiel.

(work environment (spn): given the timing, likely supportive. immediate environment (audience): likely supportive. social environment: (at home) supportive, j*red: supportive or mixed.)

we know that he has progressively felt less of a need to use his ‘front’ and has become more relaxed over the years, which i believe is likely hugely due to the positive influences of danneel and misha (and maybe others). i don’t think that has been the case for ONLY the last two years. i think jensen during exhibit B was miles away from jensen in exhibit A. jensen is not miles away between exhibit B and exhibit C. those two are differences of environments where he feels confident, in control, and is supported by the narrative he’s meant to play (C), vs an environment he felt less supported and less in control of (B). i won’t get into it in depth here, but it’s worth noting that the past ten years have also seen huge changes in fandom culture, how actors and fandom interact, and how the film industry and corporations at large handle queer narrative and fans. that certainly affects this dynamic.

and that’s it, really. jensen is a sensitive person who feeds heavily off the people and environments he’s in. he’s matured a lot over the years and i truly don’t think it’s a stretch to say that, in environments that would have supported it, he likely has been very positive about queer narratives in spn. source: his stark difference around misha, his willingness to flirt and joke about dean and cas with him, his occasional calmer and balanced reactions to destiel in more private settings.

aaand that’s how i see it, really. even if you don’t subscribe to truthing - or even jensen being queer - all of these things apply just as strongly to men who feel the need to perform. what can i say, toxic masculinity and homophobia sucks a lot and i’m glad society is shifting slowly in the right direction, and that jensen feels safer and more secure than he once did. shame the cw is unwilling to get with the times. EDIT: for some additional, vital context, i refer you to these two additional posts, which cover his upbringing, how speculations about his sexuality has hounded him his whole career, and his first intro to shipping on supernatural being j2/wincest, which included some real ugly shit.

#ask #rosa answers #analysis #jensen ackles #destiel #deancas #jenmish #cockles #gunshots #i am terminally incapable of giving short answers!!! sorry!!!!#YES i can and WILL indulge in speculations around dumb celebrities within the safety and comfort of my tumblr nest

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melanielocke · 3 years

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Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 25

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised@alastair-appreciation-month

Previous Chapter: Chapter 24

Next Chapter: Chapter 26

Uncle Jem had brought several of the Carstairs family’s old notebooks, and the past week they’d spend studying them to see if there was anything interesting. They’d rescued Grace, but no one had been able to find Tatiana since, nor did they know what they were up against exactly and if they could defeat it. Cordelia believed cortana could kill it, but walking in with no plan would just get them all killed.

Thomas felt like they were running out of time. He hadn’t told anyone yet, but he felt tired lately, much more than usual. For Alastair that was normal, he guessed, Alastair was always tired and therefore Thomas had no reason to complain. Still, it was odd and sudden. Then he’d gotten a bit of a headache, and right now he struggled to finish his lunch, which was already much smaller than what he usually ate. He’d eaten much less than he usually did the past days, truth to be told. He just didn’t have the same appetite. He was feeling a little chilly too, but guessed he should just put on a cardigan.

‘Are you alright, Tommy?’ his mother asked. ‘You’ve been eating so little lately.’

‘Just nervous, that’s all,’ Thomas said.

The thing was, Thomas didn’t usually eat less when he was nervous. If anything he ate more, he’d always been a stress eater. Instead he figured he was coming down with something. Someone else might just have said, ‘I think I’m getting sick, I’m going to rest a bit’, but after a childhood of frequent illness and worrying parents Thomas couldn’t get the words over his lips. He’d make sure to rest a bit more, he told himself. But he didn’t want to worry anymore, and he especially didn’t want his parents to start taking care of him like they used to when he was young.

Instead, he returned his attention to Alastair, who had long finished eating and gone outside to read. A ray of sunlight fell on his cheek, illuminating his warm golden brown skin. His eyes were fixated in a journal so old it looked like it might fall apart any moment. Not in Alastair’s careful hands though. He was holding the journal with meticulous care, so no damage would come to it. With his free hand, he pushed a lock of hair behind his ear, but it was not yet long enough to stay there so it fell back in front of his face. Back in school, Alastair would slick his hair back with hair gel, always perfectly in order, not a hair out of place. Thomas, who usually took a comb through his hair and left it at that, had wondered where he found the time. Now it was falling in soft wavy locks over his face. At school Thomas would never have guessed Alastair’s hair was wavy, but it was loose now and Thomas had grown to love gently running his fingers through it. He’d always loved Alastair’s dark hair, he thought. Alastair had shown him a picture from when he’d dyed it blonde, and although that looked alright, Thomas thought his dark hair was much more beautiful.

‘Anything interesting?’ Thomas asked, sitting down on the bench next to Alastair.

A gnome came up to his feet. Thomas and his mother had been feeding them to gain their trust, and not long since the gnomes had learnt that Thomas meant a chance for food. He guessed there were still plenty of cookies he didn’t feel like eating at the moment anyway, but he also wasn’t motivated to go into the kitchen and get anything. Thomas guessed resisting that adorable smile was good practice for when he got pets.

‘Nothing yet,’ Alastair said. ‘But I think I’m getting to the part that described that witch. It might give us some clues about what else Lucie can do.’

‘Have you discussed with Cordelia where you’ll live after the summer?’ Thomas asked.

Alastair had confided in him that even if his mother managed to get back the house and could go and live there, he was considering moving in with uncle Jem for the time being. His father’s house held too many bad memories, and Thomas could understand it would not be good for his recovery to live there again. Alastair had not yet made a decision, but Thomas thought it might be good for him.

‘She has not yet decided what she’ll do,’ Alastair said. ‘She is a bit young to live without her mother after all. Besides, with our mother pregnant it would be better to have someone with her. If she doesn’t get the house back, I presume she would stay with Risa and with me gone there might be enough space for Cordelia as well. But I’m almost nineteen, I figured it might be time to move out. Even if I’m moving in with another relative instead of getting my own place.’

‘That’s just practical, living on your own would be expensive. Besides, Jem won’t be another parent, will he? So you’ll still get to practice your adulting skills in a relatively safe environment. Does Jem live far away from your mother?’

‘Completely different part of London, but still in the city,’ Alastair said. ‘Easy to travel to university from there. It’s a big house, so I’ll really have my own space and get to take care of myself, with Jem still there in case I can’t. I’ve lived there until I was about six. When I was still happy, there are no bad memories tied up to that place. I thought maybe I could be happy again there.’

‘Where does Jem live exactly?’ Thomas asked.

Alastair gently put the notebook away, closing it carefully and putting it down in his lap. He took his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, showing him a screen of google maps with a marker where Jem lived.

‘Oh, that’s not far from where my parents live,’ Thomas said. ‘Only a few stops with the metro. We live close to the station.’

‘I didn’t realize. Well, that’s convenient. Makes it easy to have sleep overs or go out together if we don’t live too far away.’

‘Precisely,’ Thomas said. ‘Would you like to go for a walk when you’re finished here? A short one, I am a little tired. But I’d like some fresh air.’

Alastair carefully bound up his notebook and put it on the table inside with the others, before coming with him.

‘It’s safer to bring Lucie,’ Alastair said. ‘In case we get trapped in between again.’

Alastair had a point, although Thomas would like some time alone with him. He was so busy at work all the time, ever since Jem had arrived he was preoccupied with the journals. Thomas missed their walks.

‘Alright, we’ll walk to uncle Will and aunt Tessa and ask her and Cordelia to come. I’m curious if uncle Gabriel and aunt Cecily are coming this way too. Jem said they were struggling to find a babysitter.’

‘Right, for little Alexander,’ Alastair said.

‘And Christopher,’ Thomas added. ‘My other cousin. He’s almost seven now.’

‘What’s he like?’ Alastair asked.

‘Different from Alexander, that’s for sure,’ Thomas said. ‘Alexander is a menace. Sweet, but fierce and hyperactive and if you don’t watch him for two seconds he’s swinging from the curtains somewhere. Christopher… he’s not as wild. He’s curious and is obsessed with science. He likes to do simple experiments, and we sometimes have to keep him from setting things on fire. I’m not sure he realizes “Don’t try this at home” applies to him as well. Fortunately, putting on a science show on tv usually keeps him from blowing anything up. Usually, my sisters and I babysit them when necessary, but he also adores uncle Henry, who is an inventor.’

It occurred to Thomas that Henry was Charles’ father. Sometimes children did not resemble their parents, he guessed. It had been a bit of a shock for everyone to learn that Charles had been Alastair’s former lover. Even if not everyone knew how awful he’d been to Alastair, they all had pieced together how much older Charles was. His father most of all had been horrified, since he’d known Charles since he was a baby. Thomas suspected he’d go confront Charles himself if Alastair hadn’t asked him not to. He knew Alastair was still ashamed of his past relationship and was still trying to make sense of it all. Thomas was glad he’d found trust in him and his parents, even if Thomas suspected Alastair still kept the worst of it to himself. Who could blame him? He wasn’t sure if Alastair finally believed his parents cared about him now, but at least he seemed to trust them which was a big step for Alastair. His mother had told him about her past and how she’d gotten her scar in an attempt to let him know he could talk about it and she understood.

‘As a child I had a phase where I liked science too,’ Alastair said. ‘I think I often had phases like that with different interests. When Cordelia and I were very young, we both loved architecture and played with all sorts of building toys and legos together. I also really liked math for a while. Then the animals from the forests in Devon. I lived there for a while in a small village. I think that’s when I grew a bit obsessed with hedgehogs.’

‘Christopher has been obsessed with science for some time now,’ Thomas said. ‘But we’ll see how it goes and what he’ll like in the future. He’s being assessed for autism and ADHD. He’s a sweet kid, but he struggles socially. Not a lot of friends unfortunately. I honestly think he prefers my company over his peers.’

‘I know what that’s like,’ Alastair said. ‘To be the child with the weird interests and never fit in with other children.’

‘You lived in Devon for a while. What was it like there?’

‘The scenery was amazing. The forests there are beautiful. The people… not so much, I prefer London.’

‘I lived in the countryside for a couple of years too when I was little, for my health. I think where I lived the people were nicer, more involved than in the city.’

Alastair made a face. ‘Not when you’re foreign and your mother wears a roosari. The people in Devon are mostly white. I don’t think Father really considered that when he moved us there, it was mostly about him. They might be kind if you’re part of their group, but they’re hostile to outsiders. Fortunately, we moved back after a couple of years.’

‘Ah, of course,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m sorry.’ He felt stupid for not considering that earlier.

‘Well, people are racist everywhere. But at least in London there are more people of color and people are at least used to the idea that not everyone’s white.’ My mother still gets dirty stares and comments for her roosari, but she’s not the only one who covers her hair. So while in Devon, I much preferred to spend my time in the woods looking for hedgehogs than with other people. I guess I still do.’

Thomas felt a bit numb in his head, shivering even if it wasn’t cold at all. Perhaps going for a walk wasn’t the best idea, but he wanted to spend some time outside just the same. He should have brought something warm to wear, was all. He wasn’t really sick, it was just not as warm as he’d expected. But Alastair wasn’t shivering at all, he seemed to enjoy the sun on his skin. Thomas did too but it didn’t bring him any warmth.

‘You need to go back for a cardigan?’ Alastair asked. ‘There are goosebumps all over your arms.’

‘Oh. No, I’ll be fine.’

Thomas felt faint in the head and by the time they made it to the Herondale’s house, his vision became a little blurry and he collapsed against the door. He was awfully nauseous yet didn’t feel like he was going to throw up. Alastair noticed his sudden movement and his reflexes were quick. He tried to catch him.

‘Why are you so goddamn heavy, Tom,’ he groaned, trying and failing to stop both of them from crashing into the door.

Leaning against Alastair and the door, Thomas pushed himself upright again, blinking a couple of times until he felt he could stand on his own feet again. Alastair’s soft fingers went from his cheek to his forehead, and Thomas immediately recognized what he was doing. It was the same thing his parents and sisters had done his entire childhood. If they didn’t have a thermometer at hand, they’d feel his forehead, his neck, and determine if he was allowed to go anywhere. Alastair was going to determine he was sick and then all that was left was for everyone to tuck him into bed and start taking care of him. Thomas had hoped to avoid that.

‘You’re burning up,’ Alastair said. ‘You should not be going outside, much less for a walk. Come, we’re here anyway, I’m sure you could use the couch.’

Alastair led him inside, one arm around his waist and the other in his hand, and packed him in blankets on the couch, fetching a thermometer and some paracetamol.

‘Alastair,’ Thomas said, trying to piece together words through the headache and light headedness.

‘Just let me get this,’ Alastair said, pushing the thermometer into Thomas’ ear.

‘Alastair,’ Thomas repeated.

’38,6,’ Alastair said. ‘Tom, you have a serious fever. Why didn’t you say anything? I’ll make you some tea, just relax.’

‘Alastair!’ Thomas yelled, startling the boy.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Please don’t. I can make my own tea, I can take my own temperature,’ Thomas said, trying to calm his breath. ‘I hate it when people take care of me. I told you about my sickness as a child. I don’t want things to be like that again, I don’t want to be taken care of. So please, don’t. Just let me do it.’

Alastair sat down next to him. ‘You were about to walk into the woods with a fever. I’ve seen how stubborn you are.’

‘Yes. I am stubborn. I didn’t realize it would be so bad. But please, let me make these mistakes by myself. I don’t want to be treated like a sick child again.’ Thomas paused, blinking away the tears in his eyes. He didn’t realize this would make him so emotional. ‘I always loved that about you, how you believed I could take anything. How you didn’t treat me as if I was fragile because I was small and used to get sick.’

Alastair sighed. ‘I was an ass to you, Tom. It had nothing to do with respect, or thinking you’re strong.’

‘I know, and it did hurt sometimes. But I loved that you believed I could take it. I knew you didn’t mean any of the things you said, and with me, it was always a bit more light hearted, teasing perhaps.

But you never forced me to go to bed and rest when I did not want it. Matthew grew up around me being sick all the time, and I think he learnt from a young age that I was fragile and to be taken care of. James too. But I never wanted that. I’ll rest, I promise. But I’ll make my own tea, alright?’

‘I’m sorry, Tom. You can make your own tea. Make some for me as well?’

Alastair settled onto the couch while Thomas went into the kitchen to put on the kettle, still wrapped in a blanket. He was too cold to go without it. While waiting for the kettle to boil, Thomas realized Alastair did have a point, he could barely stand upright. Still, he was determined to at least do this. If he wanted anything later, he could always ask Alastair. He picked out a selection of tea bags for Alastair and put in a herbal teabag for his own. Thomas didn’t believe herbal tea cured sickness, but it was worth a shot.

He settled back on the couch, wrapped the blankets back around himself and took two paracetamol, hoping that would at least lower the fever.

‘I really can’t believe you think of my being rude to you as something positive,’ Alastair said. ‘I made fun of your height all the time.’

Thomas shrugged from underneath the blanket. ‘I never minded when you called me pipsqueak or wee little Thomas, or, I don’t know, you had plenty to say.’

Alastair raised an eyebrow. ‘You certainly took your revenge.’

Thomas tried to find a comfortable position on the couch, blankets around him. Alastair did have a point with the paracetamol, and Thomas took two. Hopefully they’d lower his fever.

‘Perhaps I’ll start calling you pipsqueak,’ Thomas said. ‘The name suits you much better now.’

Alastair made an undignified sound. ‘I’m not that short.’

‘You’re plenty shorter than me,’ Thomas said. ‘I always kind of liked it, pipsqueak. It sounded sweet even if you meant it to be hurtful. Sometimes I feel like you never really did a good job at being mean anyway.’

‘I never wanted to hurt anyone,’ Alastair said, ‘and I did have a bit of a weak spot for you then. I can be even worse than what you’ve seen, but I save that for bigots.’

Thomas put his hand on Alastair’s cheek. ‘I always thought you were holding back on being mean, even if you could still be quite vicious. But pipsqueak is mine now.’

Alastair looked mortified. ‘I guess I can’t stop you, can I?’

Thomas lay down on the couch, head on a pillow. Why were all these blankets so small? His feet were still cold and he’d have to find a solution for that. Really, blankets should be made for tall people. Nobody short would complain about having a bit of leftover blanket.

‘It’s concerning, that you’re getting sick after all these years,’ Alastair said softly.

‘It’s nothing,’ Thomas said. ‘Everyone gets a fever every once in a while.’

‘I haven’t had a fever in years. Colds, at times, but rarely a fever,’ Alastair said.

‘You don’t get the flu?’ Thomas asked.

‘Not that I remember,’ Alastair said. ‘But I figured that’s just the age, as a child I would get the occasional fever like all children do, and I imagine I’ll get them again when I’m older.’

Thomas had gotten the flu a couple of time over the past years. Never anything serious or with abnormal frequency, but it had sent the entire family into a panic whenever it happened.

‘Please don’t tell my parents,’ Thomas said. ‘That I’m sick, I mean.’

‘How did you plan to keep it from them?’ Alastair asked.

‘Well, I was hoping I’d be better by the next morning,’ Thomas said. ‘I could sleep over here and then when I’m better pretend nothing happened.’

Alastair was skeptical. ‘I really don’t think you’ll feel better that soon, even if it is a normal flu.’

Lucie and Cordelia entered the room through the garden door, Cordelia turning her sword back into the familiar necklace. ‘Those are a lot of blankets,’ Lucie pointed out. She was right, and Thomas moved them around a bit so at least the biggest blanket would cover his feet, reaching up to his waist.

‘We wanted to revisit the ruins,’ Cordelia said. ‘See if there’s anything else that can give us information on Tatiana or the thief of souls. I was wondering if you would be coming.’

‘Thomas is sick,’ Alastair said.

‘Don’t stay behind on my behalf,’ Thomas said.

Alastair frowned. ‘You sure? I would gladly stay here with you.’

‘I think I’m going to get some sleep anyway,’ Thomas said. ‘Please don’t trouble yourself on my behalf. Go, I’ll still be here when you get back.’

‘Get well soon,’ Lucie said, putting her arms around him briefly. ‘You know how the tv works in case you want to watch a movie.’

‘I’ll be alright, Lu. Good luck with your mission.’

Thomas wanted to believe he had just caught the flu. Bad luck, nothing more. But perhaps that wasn’t the case. Perhaps he wouldn’t get better. Perhaps this meant they were running out of time.

#Thomas Lightwood #Alastair Carstairs #Lucie Herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #Thomastair #Lucelia #fanfiction #the last hours #tlh

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nostalgiabones · 3 years

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Big Sister // C.H

So here is the next installment of the Second Baby series - Mara finding out about the new arrival! I’m not sure how happy I am with how this turned out, but hopefully it’s better than I think. Feedback is appreciated as always! Thanks for all the love on this series so far 🥰

Word count: 3.5k

1. Finding Out

“Have you got everything, Mara?”

Calum checks her backpack, full of the necessities for Luke and his partner to take care of Mara for a few hours. You were yet to tell anyone else of your pregnancy; just a sweet, exciting little secret between the two of you. Calum sleeps with a warm hand over your stomach, his fingertips finding a home under his t-shirt that you stole to sleep in. You’d finally got a doctor’s appointment for your first scan, to make sure everything is okay – it felt like so long since you first took the test, even though it had only been a few weeks.

You hand her stuffed elephant to her, knowing she’d be upset if she left it behind. It’s worn and well loved, after going everywhere with Mara for the past almost four years. It had been covered in food, ended up in the pool, and been through the wash more times than you could count, but Mara still loves it.

“Yep,” Mara perches on the edge of the bottom step whilst Calum ties her shoelaces. It was something he had been trying to teach her for a little while, but she was taking her time trying to get her head around it. If you were in a rush, she’d happily just let you or Calum do it. “Will you come back soon?”

Calum nods in response, finishing her laces before dropping a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll only be gone for a few hours, okay? You’re going to have lots of fun with Uncle Luke and Delilah, honey. You might even be able to take Petunia for a walk.”

With Luke and his partner becoming parents to Delilah in the week following you finding out about your own baby, Calum felt bad asking him to babysit when they had their own family to take care of. Luke had waved his concern off though, of course, reassuring him that Mara was always welcome at their home, no matter how busy he was. If anything, you and Calum were just curious to know how Mara was around Delilah. It would be an indication of her reaction to your own news.

You worried your own nerves had rubbed off on Mara, as she seemed a little anxious about going to Luke’s, when she’d usually be excited. She didn’t know you were going to the doctors. Luke didn’t know either. Mara isn’t the biggest fan of the doctor, and you know it would only worry her more if she knew that was where you were going.

Something you were trying to keep in mind was how much of her environment Mara absorbed. The night you found out you were pregnant, she knew you were sick, and your morning (or, all day,) sickness hadn’t let up since then. You didn’t want to scare her, and things would make much more sense once she knew about the baby. Calum had taken over most mealtimes in case her food made you queasy, and you were unsure of how much she noticed.

“Okay, lets go,” You take her hand in yours as Calum locks the house, helping her into her car seat so you can head to Luke’s. During the short journey she points out what she can see along the way, as well as singing along to whatever was on the radio. “Oh look, Mara! There’s the baby.”

You spot Luke standing in his doorway with Delilah in his arms, the sweet three-week-old baby curled up in his hold. Seeing Delilah just makes you more excited for your own new arrival – that you get to have a newborn all over again.

“Lilah!” Mara exclaims, running up to Luke and wrapping her arms around his legs in a sweet hug. Luke’s free hand lands on her head, hugging her back the best he can with Delilah in his arms. “Hi Uncle Luke!”

“Hi, sweetheart,” He greets her, moving out of the way so she can step inside.

“Thanks for watching her today,” You tell him, lightly brushing your hand over Delilah’s hair in a silent greeting, careful not to wake her. “You’re brave taking on another child with a newborn in the house.”

“I told you, anytime. I’m an expert now anyway,” He jokes, rocking Delilah in his arms as he speaks to keep her settled. “Where are you headed to?”

Calum answers before you have the chance to. “We just have an appointment to go to.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want Luke to know — more just that you were determined to keep it between the two of you for a little longer. The doctor’s appointment would provide the reassurance you were looking for, but you wanted Mara to be the next to know.

“Okay, we’ll be back to pick you up in a few hours, Mara.” You lean down to kiss her cheeks, saying goodbye before standing up again. “Be good.”

“I will.” She replies, hugging Calum before the two of you head back to the car. “Bye bye.”

***

“So, you’re around 8 weeks?”

You nod at the doctor’s question, a trembling hand held tightly in Calum’s as you lay on the bed. His thumb rubs soothing circles over the back of your hand, trying to ground you.

“I think so, yeah. If we worked it out right.” You reply, biting your lip from nerves as the doctor nods in response. The anxiety of the first few weeks of a pregnancy would never go away; it was difficult to keep a secret but would be even more difficult to tell them devastating news if it came. It was safer this way, and you enjoyed being in the happy little baby bubble with Calum for a while.

“Okay, we’ll be able to tell in a moment.” She informs you, before asking you to lift your jumper so she can get to your stomach. “Sorry, this will be cold. Is this your first baby?”

You shake your head, a smile on your lips as you think of Mara. “No, it’s our second. We have a three-year-old daughter.”

“Aww, how lovely. Is she excited to be a big sister?”

“We haven’t told her yet,” Calum replies. “But we’re hoping she will be.”

Calum lifts your intwined fingers to his lips, brushing a soft kiss over your knuckles to distract you as the nurse squeezed the gel over your lower stomach. You shivered at the sensation, laying your head back on the bed as you tried to relax. It felt like a lifetime as the nurse ran the doppler over your barely there bump, waiting to hear the sound that every parent loves so much.

“So, there’s not too much to see since you’re so early on, but there…” She points to the screen, a small flicker in the centre of the screen, the first sight you and Calum got of your baby. “There’s the baby. And if you hold on a second...”

Tears spring to your eyes as you gaze at the screen. It’s not much, but they’re there, and it’s a relief that everything seems to be okay.

“Look at that,” Calum murmurs, chuckling as his other hand wipes the tears from your cheeks. “There they are.”

The nurse flicks a switch on her machine and suddenly, the room is filled with the whooshing sound of your baby’s heartbeat.

“There we go,” The nurse smiles at the healthy sounding heartbeat, confirming that everything is okay. It’s the sound you’d never get tired of – making everything suddenly feel very real, like there’s definitely another baby growing inside of you. “Everything looks and sounds great. Would you like some photos printing?”

“Yes please.” You reply, unable to focus on anything other than the tiny dot on the screen that would soon grow into your baby that you would raise and love. Calum couldn’t help but get emotional too – it doesn’t feel like anytime at all since you were here to have your scan with Mara, and now she’s almost four. It makes him realise how much she’s grown, and how nervous he is to tell her about the new baby in case she got upset. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being sad, especially since it would be such a huge change to her life.

***

“Uncle Luke, can we do some drawing please?”

Mara looks up from her plate at her place at the dinner table, where she had been eating her lunch, made by Luke’s partner.

“Sure, sweetheart. Let me just put Delilah down and then I’ll get the pens out, okay?” Luke answers, moving Delilah’s moses basket into the kitchen with his free hand, so he could watch her. He stands and rocks Delilah for a moment, making sure she was sound asleep before setting her down in the crib.

“Delilah is little,” Mara comments, watching as Luke tucks Delilah in, stroking over her light tufts of hair to soothe her as she settles.

“She is, honey.” Luke chuckles at her comment. “You used to be as little as Delilah too. You used to fall asleep on me like she does.”

“Really?” She exclaims, and Luke smiles at the wonder on her face. He loves watching Mara grow up and learn about the world, and answer as many of her endless questions as he can. She had been inquisitive ever since she could talk – “why?” being one of the first words that she learned. He sees so much of Calum in her. He’d always catch her just sitting quietly, taking in her surroundings – always observing without saying much. He sometimes wonders what she thinks so deeply about in her three-year-old mind, and he usually finds out when she asks her questions. “Did I cry as much as she does?”

Luke laughs again at her question.

“Sometimes,” He replies, having just settled Delilah from crying for a good ten minutes. Mara had seemed unbothered, distracted by his partner making her lunch, but she clearly had paid attention to it. “All babies cry a lot because they can’t talk and tell you what’s wrong. Once you were on the tour bus with us, and you cried all night because you didn’t want to go to sleep.”

Now it’s Mara’s turn to laugh at him. She clasps her hand over her mouth and giggles, clearly finding the story very entertaining as Luke gets out the pens and paper he has stored for her visits.

“What do you want to make?” He asks her, hoping it’s not anything too creative – he once tried to do origami with her, but in his new-dad sleep deprived state, he’s not sure how well it will go.

“I wanna make a card for mum,” She says, a concerned furrow of her eyebrows as she speaks. Luke notices how she wrings her hands together as she talks, a sign that she’s usually nervous about something. “Her tummy has been poorly.”

Luke pauses for a moment, wondering if that has anything to do with the appointment you had gone to, his mind filled with questions.

“Oh, has it? How?” He asks, and he’s not sure how much she knows, yet he’s worried that something is wrong.

“She gets sick when she wakes up.” Mara responds, and it tells Luke everything he needs to know.

Morning sickness?

Suddenly Luke feels as though he knows what’s going on, but he can’t be certain, and it doesn’t seem like Mara knows anything more. “I think that’ll be nice, honey. I’m sure your mum will love that.”

She’s quiet as she colours, needing Luke’s help to draw out the letters to spell ‘Mum.’ He notices she’s getting better at staying in the lines, considering her age. Luke thinks back to the day you, Calum and Mara met Delilah, how Calum’s eyes lit up when his partner asked about a second baby. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now from what Mara had said, it makes sense.

It’s not too long before there’s a knock at the door, and you and Calum are back to pick her up.

Mara is too focused on her drawing to pay attention to you speaking to Luke’s partner, her tongue sticking out in concentration. Calum sneaks up behind her, but doesn’t want to scare her, especially if it could ruin her drawing.

“Hey, you.” Calum taps her shoulder gently and her head snaps up, turning around at the sound of his voice. “What are you up to?”

“Hi, daddy!” She squeals as he picks her up, hugging her against his body as she wraps her legs around his waist. “I made this card for mum.”

“That’s so sweet, baby, do you want to give it to her?” He replies, knowing you’ll be joining them in a moment. He’s not sure of how much she’s told Luke, or if he knows anything at all.

You exaggerate a gasp as you spot the card in her hand. “Is that for me, baby?”

“Yes, for you!” She exclaims, handing the card to you from her spot on Calum’s hip.

Luke decides to pry as much as he can without overstepping.

“Oh yeah, Mara mentioned you’ve been sick in the mornings, are you okay?” He asks, a smirk on his lips as if he knows that you’re both going to understand his prods.

His question catches you off guard, knowing Mara had told him so innocently – yet it’s given Luke a huge hint as to what’s going on. Calum looks down at his docs and clears his throat, avoiding eye contact with Luke. “Oh, I’m fine, I’ve just had a stomach bug recently.”

Luke nods but narrows his eyes at you, and you change the topic of conversation before it can go any further.

“I think it’s about time we get you home, hey?”

***

“What if she gets upset?”

Calum sighs at your words and presses a kiss to your hairline, watching as you rub your thumb over the scan photo in your hand. The day had come to finally tell Mara about the new addition to your family, and you were nervous. You couldn’t bear the thought of your sweet daughter getting upset about such a big change to her life.

“We have lots of time for her to get used to it, honey.” Calum reassures you, his fingers grazing over the small, slightly raised bump under his palm. It wasn’t much, nothing that anyone outside of you and him would notice, if you looked close enough. It was small enough that Mara wouldn’t know any different, but you didn’t know how long it would stay that way. “The sooner we tell her, the more time she has to adjust. I don’t think she’s capable of being angry at you.”

You relax into him for a second, your head pressed against his chest as he holds you in the soft comfort of your bed. Mara is still asleep as far as you’re aware – there had been no sign of her calling for you from down the hall or joining you in your bed for a morning cuddle. You thought that a good time to tell her would be after breakfast, so she’d had time to wake up properly.

“I’ll go get breakfast started,” Calum murmurs, brushing his lips over the spot behind your ear. “Meet you downstairs. Stop worrying, okay? It’s going to be fine.”

You lay in the bed for a moment, taking a deep breath, before heading down the hall to get Mara up.

“Mara, honey, can we talk to you?”

Mara looks up from her toys, still comfortable in her pyjamas as she plays for a little while after breakfast. You’re cosy on the sofa, a throw strewn over your legs, as Calum sits next to you. His hand slips into yours, squeezing gently to ground you. Mara hops onto the sofa, snuggling in between the two of you, so you can talk to her.

“So, you know how Uncle Luke and your auntie have Delilah now?” Calum starts and she nods, waiting until you continue. “Well, how would you feel if we have another baby, to live here with us? And you got to be a big sister?”

She furrows her eyebrows in confusion, like she didn’t quite understand what was going on.

“I have a baby in my tummy, Mara.” You smile, giving her a minute to take in what you were telling her, as Calum runs his hand up and down her back, in a comforting gesture. “Do you want to see?”

You pull out the scan photo and set it in front of her, so she can see for herself. “They’re very small for now, but look, that’s the baby,” you tell her, pointing to the small blob in the middle of the photo.

“A baby?” She asks, her big, brown eyes gazing up at you. You nod, brushing her curls out of her face.

“Yeah, sweetheart. How do you feel about that? Are you happy?” You ask her, unable to tell how she was feeling.

“Yeah,” She replies, a small smile on her lips, but it doesn’t reach her eyes like her usual happy smile does. She sits quietly for a moment, her feet swinging against the edge of the sofa. “When will the baby be here?”

“Not for quite a while, honey. So, we have lots of time to get ready, okay?” Calum reassures her, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “It’s okay if you’re not excited right now, we know it’s a big change for you, but you’ll be able to help us with the baby as much as you want. They’re going to love you so much, little moon.”

She nods, her eyes not leaving the scan photo in your hand as she observes it. You notice her eyes are lined with tears, and you’re unsure whether it’s from being sad or just overwhelmed by the information. Your heart aches at her not being as excited as you had hoped for her to be.

“They’ll be just like Delilah, baby, but they’ll live here with us so you can cuddle them whenever you like.” You tell her, hoping it’ll help her to warm up to the idea. “You’ll be such a good sister, bub.”

Calum thinks about his relationship with Mali, his own sister – how he loves to have an older sibling to look up to, and he knows Mara will be that for the new baby. He had always wanted a big family, so Mara always has someone around, like he did with Mali. Even if she doesn’t seem to be excited now, he knows she’ll warm up to the idea eventually.

“So the baby is in your tummy?” She asks, looking at your hoodie covered middle, as if she was trying to see. “Is that why your tummy has been funny?”

You sit up, lifting your hoodie so she can look at your stomach, even though there’s not much of a bump to see yet.

“Yeah, honey, right in there,” You point to the middle of your stomach. “And they’ll keep growing until they’re ready to be born. My bump will look like your aunties did, with Delilah. And yeah, the baby made me sick, that’s why it was funny, but it’s okay.”

“That’s not very nice of the baby.” She frowns, concern in her eyes as she looks up at you.

Calum chuckles at her words. “It’s not the baby’s fault, honey. They’re just trying to grow, and that’s what makes mum sick.”

She reluctantly cuddles into your side and places her hand over the middle of your stomach, patting the spot tentatively. “Aww, you’re so sweet Mara. Are you okay?

Calum’s gaze catches yours and you share a look, both reassured that the fear of telling her was over – yet you can’t help but feel anxious about her reaction. You know she isn’t yet truly happy, since you know how she is when she’s happy, and it’s not as quiet as she’s being right now.

“Can I go back and play now?” She asks, and you nod, kissing her cheek and holding her for just a moment longer.

“Of course, Mara. Love you so much, okay? Having another baby doesn’t change that, I promise. You’ll always be our first baby.” You brush your pointer finger over her cheek as she looks at you, waiting for you to finish talking before she nods, sliding off the sofa with a “love you, mumma” before she goes back to her games.

Calum shifts closer to you, knowing she didn’t react how you had hoped. You hide your face in his neck, trying to hide your own eyes filling with tears as his fingertips smooth up and down your back.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” He murmurs quietly, so only you can hear. “She’ll come around, I promise.”

You just hope that he’s right.

***

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#ahh i hope this is better than I think lmao #calum hood blurbs #5sos blurbs #dad!5sos blurbs #dad 5sos blurbs #dad calum #dad calum blurbs #dad5sos blurbs #dadsos #dad5sos #myblurbs #mywriting #secondbabyseries #maramaau #calum hood x reader #calum hood x you #reader insert

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ghostofstudentspast · 4 years

Text

One of a kind

Charlie x Reader

Prompts: “Please shut up, I can’t stand how appealing your voice is.”

I have such a soft spot for Charlie Weasley, I think he’s so underrated and deserves so much more love!! So I wrote this little piece that’s completely and utterly filled with fluff. I also wrote it for @summer-writes writing challenge (and you should check her out too because she’s lovely)!

Three days. That’s how long it had taken for you to develop a crush on Charlie Weasley. You’d vaguely remembered him from your days at school but he was two years above you and let’s face it, Hogwarts is a big school.

Now, it was rare to see the two of you apart. You’d joined his team in Romania almost two years ago now. Starting as a glorified intern, you were more than happy to just be around the dragons. Today you were counted as an integral part of your research team. While Charlie focussed more on the handling and transporting of dragons, you were at his side to monitor the creatures’ health. Always the first to clock injuries, diet changes and sicknesses you really were an expert in the dragon department.

Not only were the two of you a wonder team but you got along like old friends. His happy go lucky demeanour sparked your creative side which meant work was never boring. Your sharp tongue counterbalanced his quick wit which meant you were always tossing back and forth a little ball of banter.

You worked together and you were known to take work home. It only made sense when the two of you moved in together a few months into your partnership. You set basic boundaries and you mostly managed to squash the tiny little voice in your head that begged for him to make a move. If being platonic meant you could have Charlie in your life, you were happy to just be friends.

Living together worked out to be a blessing, the only problem was his singing. Not because it was bad, oh no quite the opposite. His voice was gravelly and had such a warm tone to it that it was like fire whiskey to your ears. He was constantly singing, while he cooked, in the shower and even on the job. It got to the point where you would just zone out as soon as you heard his voice. It always gave you butterflies. No not butterflies, they were fully grown dragons flying around in your stomach.

“Y/N!” the object of your thoughts came bursting into your living room, full of energy as always, “there’s a rumour going around that we might be getting a Hungarian horntail in sometime this month!”

He dropped onto the sofa across from the chair you were currently perched on and grinned. The two of you had been busy at work preparing to transfer some dragons in from a sanctuary across the country. It was always exciting when you had new dragons to study and look after but Charlie was especially thrilled each time. You’d never met someone who loved their career as much as he did.

“That’s fantastic Charlie!” you closed the book that had occupied you and watched the curly headed man toss a ball up in the air as you chatted. He always needed something to keep him busy, he always had energy to burn. “I heard there’s some babies coming along as well.”

“I know, it’s fantastic,” he shot you a quick grin, “it’ll be like a brand new addition to our little family.”

“Our family?” you chuckled and raised your eyebrow at him, “that makes you what? Their uncle?”

“Mm yeah, you’re right, we’re like the fun uncle and aunt that the kids can’t wait to see at Christmas,” he stuck his tongue out at you and tossed the ball up again with ease.

“You’re one of a kind Weasley,” you shook your head and stuck your tongue back out at him.

“Then aren’t you lucky you know me?” he winked at you and rolled off the couch to stand up. You weren’t too phased by his flirty personality as much as you were when you first met him but it still kicked up a little blush on your face when he caught you off guard.

“I’m gonna shower and then I’m thinking of making pasta. You know, in case you’re interested.”

“In what, the pasta or the shower?” you flirted back and smirked up at him, “cause those are two very different offers Charles.”

“Hey, I’ll leave that for you to decide darling,” he wiggled his eyebrows and tossed the ball up and down again as he backed out of the room. He turned to leave and yelled a quick, “I’ll be in the shower!”

You smacked yourself in the forehead with your novel as your cheeks coloured red. You let yourself take the five seconds to consider following him before putting the book back in your lap and distracting yourself with the text. He just couldn’t help being flirty, you knew that, it was a part of his personality. You’d be a hypocrite if you didn’t say the same about yourself. But with Charlie it was always slightly different.

“Carbs will fix this,” you muttered, choosing to let your thoughts drift to pasta instead.

And there it was, as if on cue, Charlie singing in the shower. You couldn’t help but smile a little bit as he loudly sang along to whatever was stuck in his head today. He was far from shy and you loved that about him. The man could be comfortable anywhere and never had any shame for being a bit strange.

It was easy to fall in love with him the way you had. He was kind, fun, handsome and practically your best friend. You would be shocked if anyone managed not to fall in love with him if they were in your position. You knew you were basically an old married couple at this point anyway. Last Christmas he’d even taken you home to the Weasleys for a few days to meet his family. Normal, colleague behaviour, right?

“Hey,” Charlie stopped in the doorway on his way to his room, towel wrapped around his waist. It wasn’t rare to see Charlie walking around without a shirt, just as you would often walk around without pants. It was your house. But still, your eyes skipped over his torso and you forced your eyes to stay on his face. “so, yes on the pasta? Maybe some ice cream?”

“You should know you don’t even have to ask at this point Charlie,” you grinned and shooed him out of the room, waving your book at him.

His humming made nice background noise to your reading, trying your hardest to stay focused on the words on the page. Eventually you gave up and decided to see if you could help in the kitchen. There you found Charlie stirring a pan on the stove and humming along to the radio he had playing from the counter.

“You know you have a wand right?” you crossed your arms with an amused smile playing on your lips.

“You know, somehow this seems safer for me,” Charlie barked out a laugh and turned to grin at you, “don’t exactly have a great track record with household magic do I sweetheart?”

“Can’t deny that,” you laughed and pulled some plates out of the cupboard and started setting the little table in the centre of the kitchen. The two of you sitting down to gorge yourself on cheesy goodness.

You often split the chores between you, alternating who cooked for who. It wasn’t really a competition to see who was the better cook between you but if there’s one thing he could cook well it was comfort food. Something that came naturally to the Weasleys was a creating comforting environment so it was no surprise.

“Nope, I got it!” You grabbed Charlie’s plate before he could get up and put it away, “You cooked, I clean.”

“You’re too good to me,” Charlie chuckled and helped bring everything to the sink, “one of these days my mother will demand I marry you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and turned towards the sink so he couldn’t see your eyes widen. Wouldn’t be so bad Charlie, you thought to yourself. You could hear him continue to hum along from the living room as you flicked your wand over the dirty plates to clean them. He came waltzing back into the kitchen as Frank Sinatra played over the speakers. Reaching out his hands dramatically to serenade you as you leant against the counter and crossed your arms with a smirk.

“Please shut up, I can’t stand how appealing your voice is,” you pretended to plug your ears.

Charlie just shook his head with a grin and continued singing, grabbing your hand to pull you into the kitchen to join him in his dancing.

I could be a king on crown

Humble or poor, rich or renowned

There is nothing I couldn't do

If I had you

You let out a laugh as he spun you towards him and rocked the two of you back and forth. Your hand clasped in his, the other on your waist he danced the two of you through the small kitchen. Resting your head on his shoulder, eyes closed as you listened to him sing along. He smelled like fire and cinnamon and Autumn. A smile was permanently stuck on your face even as your heart skipped a beat.

His hand was warm against yours, scars littered his fingers and forearms along with light freckles from the sun. His thumb stroked the back of your hand as you swayed comfortably, the music fading out.

You opened your eyes to look up at the man who held your heart and were surprised to find him looking back. His hand travelled up to your cheek and his calloused thumb stroked your cheek gently. You held your breath and nuzzled your cheek into his hand.

“I am so insanely in love with you,” he whispered. It was so soft, you’d feared you’d misheard him somehow. “It’s driving me crazy Y/N.”

Without second thought you stood up on your toes and pressed your lips to his. Your arms easily resting on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you as his hands gripped your waist and steadied you. His lips were soft and moved perfectly against yours. You smiled into the kiss and let out a soft chuckle as your forehead came to rest against his, the two of you smiling and laughing breathlessly.

“I love you,” you smiled, “I’m so in love with you,” you let out a joyful laugh as Charlie picked you up with a dopey grin on his face and kissed you again. You wound your hands in his hair as he held you against him.

“Thank god,” he laughed as he set you down, your feet touching the floor again. “there was a moment there where I thought I’d have to find the dragons a new aunt.”

You slapped his chest with a laugh and rolled your eyes at him. He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead it’s a smile. It was everything you could have possibly hoped for with Charlie.

“So you really think my voice is incredibly appealing huh?” he asked with an innocent expression in his face, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

“Oh shut up,” you laughed as your face flushed again.

“No, In considering a career change now,” he teased, “Yeah I can see it now, Charlie the dragon taming pop star.” he squeezed your hip with his hand.

“Right, you call me when that works out,” you snorted and patted his chest with your hand.

“What if I can’t wait that long to call you?” he smiled at you and kissed the tip of your nose.

“I’m sure we can arrange something,” you smirked and tugged him down by the front of his shirt to kiss him again.

#summerswritingchallenge #harry potter #charlie weasley #charlie x reader #hp headcannon #hp blurbs #hp writing #hp fanfic #harry potter headcannon #harry potter blurb #one shot #dragons

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savannasolis · 3 years

Photo

‷ watch out , SAVANNA SOLIS has crash-landed into roswell !! they look 28 YEARS OLD and celebrate their birthday on JUNE 6TH . they are from LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, reside in LUNAR CRESCENTS and are currently working as MAKEUP ARTIST at SUN SPOT BEAUTY SALON. one thing you should know about them is she’s allergic to bees! ‷

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Savanna Cruz Solis NICKNAMES: Sav HOMETOWN: Los Angeles, California TIME IN ROSWELL: 3 months GENDER: Ciswoman PRONOUNS: She/her ETHNICITY: Mexican and Lebanese SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic EDUCATION: Pepperdine University, BS in Biology SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English, Spanish, Arabic, Russian, Italian, French

INTRO.

01. Savanna was born in sunny Los Angeles, California to Naila Karim and Santiago Solis on a humid summer day. Naila was a nineteen-year-old cocktail waitress when she met oil-tycoon, Santiago who was twenty years her senior. Santiago was a lively bachelor, finding ways to spend his fifteen billion dollar fortune. Naila was a woman who wanted to be taken care of; and after two years of serving Santiago; she was now 21 and fully dependent on the lifestyle he provided her. On Christmas Day, the same day as her 21st birthday, he asked her to marry him and the rest was history. Naila got what she wanted, Santiago found a way to fill the lonely void in his life and it just worked.

02. Ever since Savanna was a little girl, she was used to the glitz and glam of the luxuries Santiago happily provided his family. She was a baby wearing diamonds due to Naila’s extravagant taste. This was all normal in Savanna’s eyes, the materialistic generosity to cover up the truth of her parent’s neglectful ways. When she was five, her little sister was born and suddenly; Savanna was pushed aside. Everything became about her little sibling, mostly due to the struggle of having her on Naila and Santiago’s part. Savanna loved being a big sister, but she didn’t love being forgotten about. Suddenly, her passions weren’t important for the family anymore.

03. Her father’s reputation was something that was always the course of discussion in her life. Being on her “best behavior” and following the rules was demanded from her. Ever since she was a little girl, Savanna took life one day a time. She believed in stopping and smelling the roses, laughing and dancing– instead of being uptight and on edge like her father was. As a little girl, she was the kind of kid to pick up a worm and move it somewhere safer instead of screaming and running. Her mother’s style for didn’t fit the kind of kid she was, but she would never shy away from what she truly liked to explored.

04. She loved sports, getting deep into nature and taking advantage of the beautiful universe around her. Santiago always disagreed with her lifestyle. Savanna was interested in getting to know the world around her. She didn’t want to be in California forever, but Santiago gave her an ultimatum: receive a college degree or never receive her inheritance. Savanna knew what she had to do. She followed her father’s wishes, on her terms. She set off to Pepperdine University to study what she loved most: the environment. With her family’s network and their money, she knew her father would approve of anything as long as she went to university. She received a BS in Biology, focusing on Natural Science. Through her four years, she chose to study abroad and go on research projects through many internationals lands. She found love through her studies, too, as much as she hated the thought of long-distance commitment.

05. Savanna graduated at 21, choosing to continue her career in the science division until she turned 23. She was burnt out from how demanding her career was, and truthfully– she didn’t need to do it. Santiago was relieved Savanna made something of herself, until she chose her happiness, again. Savanna quit the big-Pharma company she was with, dumped her partner who was ready to propose, and planned the getaway trip of her dreams. She even met someone along the way, enjoying along his side and continuing through her trek for two years.

06. After the trip of her dreams, Savanna returned home at 25. She had her own money, but was quickly becoming dependent on her inheritance. It was something that made her uneasy and the hard-working attitude her father had instilled in her was something that lingered. Wanting to steer a different way than science this time, she tapped into what she knew best: beautification. Thanks to Naila’s doings, Savanna was more than trained to turn anything from sham to glam.

07. Connecting with her friends and network, she was in the hub of fame and beauty. She was thankful for having fortunate, shallow, wealthy friends and family suddenly. Bettering her chances by becoming a licensed cosmetologist, Savanna began to officially work for the faces of Hollywood. From doing Grammy’s to Emmy’s, she traveled within her clients schedules as well. Being back and forth was natural for her at this point in her life and career.

08. Savanna’s portfolio has grown in the past three years, choosing to do exclusive and special events only. Her rates were high and her demand was higher. Currently, Savanna has four elite clients she works with through the year. Six months ago, her longtime client invited her join her in Roswell for the year long project she’ll be working on. The natural-born traveler in Savanna accepted hoping she’d meet some new faces; and maybe run into some not so new ones.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

I. I LIKE THAT (0/1) : Savanna’s best friend! They could be from any part of her life. Childhood, middle school, high school, university, traveling, etc. I’m open to discussion but ideally, they’d be super close besties.

II. AIN’T NUN TO IT, BOSS (0/1): Her current exclusive client! They’d be $$$ for the lifestyle she lives.

III. DANG! (0/1): Her FWB. Savanna is one to get what she wants. She isn’t ready for any sorts of real commitment... but this person seems like they have potential. As long as they act good, for her.

GENERAL: Friends, exes, hook-ups, crushes, etc.

I’m open to plotting, always.

I’M AVAILABLE BY IM AND DISCORD!

#roswellintro #/about #<3 plz i'll take anything

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1994sunflower · 4 years

Note

Hey feel free to tell me to get lost but I was wondering if we could get some possessive and delicious Mikey before we get our hearts broken with the Heaven sequel? 😩 Maybe they’re at a party or something and someone really aggressively hits on Y/N or spreads a rumour that she ‘cheated’ on Mikey with Ash so Mikey is just that meme of “so you have chosen death” and everyone expects Y/N to be super against it cause anti violence but this dude really humiliated her so instead she’s Mikey #1 fan

loved making this, hope you enjoy! (also i know you couldn’t possibly have known but a lot of this story is loosely similar to what locked out of heaven ii will feature (like super similar just a few key differences) so there’s that to look out for)

the locked out of heaven teaser will be out this week so this is the last one shot i’ll be making while i finish up the series! which is just as well since you’re right — its perfect just before the sequel hits. i’m so excited.

in which Michael defends you

The music was so loud, it felt like it was vibrating within your bones. The sheer numbers of bodies all around you was enough to have you wanting to go back home. But you weren’t here for your enjoyment. You were here for Michael.

Michael who had been so understanding with your differences in preferences and personalities that he had put off going to parties nearly the entire school year. But it was coming close to the end of the fall semester and you wanted him to relax and have fun. For him, that meant going to parties and getting drunk. And you could be okay with that tonight.

The party was at a frat house which was something entirely new for you. Michael, however, blended in like he was a regular (which he was). He got ushered in by the brothers without issue, like he owned the place. But it shouldn’t have been surprising with the kingly reputation he possessed from these parties. You couldn’t help but to feel a mixture of not belonging with your reddened cheeks and pride at being the one under his arm when Michael walked in. You saw the way all eyes moved to him, the whoops and hollers of people welcoming him back to the scene.

Maybe it had something to do with you being a girl at a frat party that had you being offered a drink before even Michael. Though you were sure it had to do with the boy offering it to you not seeing Michael in time. But by the time the red cup was in front of your face, Michael’s angry hand shot out and squeezed the curly haired boy’s wrist. So tightly you were almost worried he would break it.

“Fuck off.” Michael warned in a growl, taking the drink for himself and all but pushing the boy away from you. As you watched the boy run off, you came to understand that this was definitely not your scene.

The unfamiliar experience and surroundings were all made worth it to see Michael, red solo cup in hand, watching the crowd. As he drank from his cup, you could see a little twinkling of amusement in his cool eyes, one that you were sure was noticeable only to you. And that was enough to let you know he was happy to be there. Happier, still, to have you there.

You normally chose to let him go alone, much to his disappointment. But now, having you in his arms while he got to enjoy the slightly chaotic atmosphere, he felt content. It made you feel safer, too, to have him at your side constantly. You never suggested it because you didn’t want to make him feel limited to focusing on only you instead of his own enjoyment. But he was never more than a few inches away from you anyway.

Michael’s arms, covered by his black hoodie, hung loosely off of your waist and he held you tight against his chest. The two of you were right in front of the wall of the house, letting people come to you rather than the other way around. Michael didn’t have anyone he’d want to approach anyway. While he talked with his acquaintances or people who wanted to be his acquaintances, you were right there beside him. Every now and then he would gaze down at you, his eyes filled with a sort of fondness that made you melt into him.

His head ducked down to reach your ear, nuzzling you slightly. “Are you good?”

His low voice made you shiver as you nodded up at him, eyes bright with honesty. You were good, you were fine even in a place so out of your comfort zone. Because of him.

Michael smiled in a way he only ever did with you. Placing a kiss to the top of your head, he put his red cup in your hand. Putting his hand on your jawline, taking up much of your face in the process, he moved your face to look up at him. “I’ll be right back, baby girl. Need to go to the bathroom, don’t drink anything, okay?”

Your teeth caught your lower lip in reflex honestly. He knew what you liked and he knew what treating you so roughly, especially in public, did to you. So it was no surprise to either of you when you nodded obediently up at him.

Your heart thumped at his mischievous smile, proving to you that he knew exactly what he was doing. Leaning down and placing a loving peck to your cheeks, he maneuvered his way through the throngs of people like an expert.

You’d gone to a couple of parties with him before and it never ceased to amaze you just how in his element he was at them. He knew exactly what to say, how to act and he was always in control. He never had an issue getting his way around or getting what he wanted, unlike those that had to push against dancing bodies to find their way or go searching for a drink. No, those things were handed to Michael easily. It was obvious with the ways people tried desperately to get out of his way, to get his attention. But his attention was only ever on you.

Which is why it was so daunting when you felt someone creep closer to you a few minutes after Michael left. Michael’s drink was still in your hand and you felt vulnerable without his intimidating and fierce protective presence next to you. You’d never had anyone approach you specifically or even try to when Michael was next to you. People knew better than that. Especially in this environment.

But here was this tall, skinny brown haired guy standing right beside you. His gaze directly on you to the point where it made you squirm. He was a great deal taller than you but shorter than Michael. He was wearing a black leather jacket that didn’t suit him as well as Michael’s.

Still, though, the guy placed a hand beside your head on the wall, making you take a few steps away. But you couldn’t really do much when he leaned forward slightly, forcing you to lean as far as you could into the hard wall behind you.

“I just saw you across the room and I had to come to tell you that you’re absolutely beautiful.” His voice was high and his smile had a cockiness to it that made you uncomfortable.

But he was being nice and you couldn’t hate him for that. So you smiled gratefully and kindly like you always did. “Thank you.”

You hoped that would be it, a swift exchange and he would be on his way to find someone more interested. And more available. But he didn’t move, even when you diverted your eyes to look at anywhere but him.

“I’m Jamie, by the way.” He put his entire forearm against the wall, basically leaning over you.

Your eyes shot out desperately to search for Michael, or Ashton, or anyone. But to no avail. Yet still, you couldn’t be mean to him, it wasn’t how you were wired and you weren’t sure you could be even if you tried. He was just trying to be friendly and made flirtiness was just part of his personality.

“Nice to meet you.” You voice was soft and your answer curt. That was the best way for you to say ‘leave me alone’ without hurting anyone’s feelings.

But he couldn’t read you, not like Michael could. So his smile got larger. “I could get you another drink, that one’s almost empty.” He gestured to Michael’s cup, “Then we could get to know each other a little more.” His eyes held a dirty humor that you didn’t want to examine.

Your face had grown dimmer, your expression much more uncomfortable and serious than it was when you were beside Michael, a comfortable smile on then. “No, thanks. This is my boyfriend’s.” You mumbled, “Michael.” You said his name as if maybe it could get warning bells to go off in Jamie’s mind.

But, unfortunately, with Michael no where in sight, he seemed to feel empowered. “I don’t see him around.” He made a show of sweeping the room with his eyes, “So what’s stopping us from having a little fun?”

When his hands moved to touch your waist, his lips headed to your neck, you pulled away sharply, so sharply you spilled Michael’s drink. But you were now a good few feet away from him. “I said no!”

You weren’t used to having to repeat yourself when you said no. Michael was respectful of you and your boundaries so often, you didn’t even have to say it. He already knew by your body language or expressions.

This guy, however, had a false perception of who you were and what you would allow. As if you would ever cheat on Michael, the man you loved, let alone do anything of the sort with someone you didn’t know.

It was obvious Jamie didn’t expect your outburst. Maybe he expected you to be as submissive as you looked. And you were, to an extent. Only for Michael.

“Fuck you then, bitch.” Jamie’s words and expression were so angry you could almost imagine him foaming at the mouth. And you wished they didn’t have an effect on you but you couldn’t deny the tears that sprung to your eyes.

“I just heard you open your legs easy.” He was making a scene and you wanted to disappear when you heard the quiet lull of conversation and eyes turning to you. “You’ll give it to anyone when you’re boyfriend’s not looking. Especially to his best friend, right?”

There were a series of gasps around you and your face was burning from embarrassment and horror at the untrue things he was yelling about you to everyone. You were shaking your head but too mortified to be able to speak. How could you when he was saying you’d disrespect the love of your life like that? When his words felt like a slap to the face to your reputation, who you really were as a person.

He got closer to you, this time managing to grab your waist and press his lower body against yours disgustingly. “So how about I show you a good time, too?”

You were shaking a little in unabashed anger and humiliation when you realized that the gasps that rang around the room weren’t so much at his insult to you. But to Michael’s entrance into the space right as Jamie’s words spewed out.

But you definitely noticed when everyone’s eyes trailed just behind you to your tall, locked jaw boyfriend. Michael had paused at the doorway of the living room when he heard Jamie and when he saw you standing directly in front of him.

The music didn’t stop but the party did. No one moved, no one spoke. Michael’s gaze inspected you, your shaking figure and tear filled, embarrassed, eyes. All eyes were on Michael as he tilted his head to the side, staring at Jamie’s now wide-eyed figure. You could see Michael’s hands clenching and unclenching almost as if he was deciding on the best way to kill the boy in front of him. He blew out one single angry breath, which almost sounded like a chuckle, before he began to move, stomping and agile.

You weren’t even sure if Michael heard what he said. But just seeing him on you, on his girlfriend, it didn’t matter as Michael reached Jamie without saying a word, separating him from you and just punching him squarely in the jaw. “Say that again, to my face.” Michael sneered. “You’re not going to do shit with her.”

He didn’t even give him a chance to recover before Michael grabbed his hair, twisting his tatted fingers in almost painfully before smashing the guy’s head into the wall. Not hard enough to knock him out but hard enough to hurt. And you were sure Michael kept him conscious on purpose as he grabbed a hold of the collar of Jamie’s leather shirt to keep him still for a punch to the face. “Don’t fucking touch my girl.”

The crowd had erupted with noise as they gathered in a circle to watch more diligently the fight that was starting to escalate. You were frozen, at the front of it. Unsure of what to do. You’d never stood by and watched Michael do this, usually you were the one to stop it before it got to this point.

And while the rational side of you, the pacifist side who hated anything that had to do with violence, told you to stop him, the dominant part of you, the one that felt shame and humiliation coursing through your blood, felt a sense of pride, gratefulness and love at the man who was defending you and your honor. Against the man that had mortified you for no reason. So you didn’t do anything as you watched Michael land punch after punch to the weak boy, alternating between the face and gut. Secretly, you were cheering for your boyfriend.

You felt a few eyes on you, waiting for you to step in, control Michael like you usually did. Especially when you had become known to be everything Michael was not, peace loving and anti-violence. You’d become many people’s savior when you stepped in and prevented Michael from doing too much harm to his victims. But right then, you felt nothing but hot for the sight in front of you. An almost sadistic feeling of attraction to this side of your boyfriend, the protective, possessive side (the one who would fuck anyone up that dared think you were anything but Michael’s) bloomed in you.

Michael stopped his assault only to drag the shorter boy by the hair to you. He could read you so well, knew you so much that he knew that you not stopping him right when he began meant that you were supporting him in everything he was doing. So he didn’t hesitate to stand in front of you, his eyes still swirling with anger but softened by an adoring love for you, so as not to scare you too much, with Jamie right in his hand.

“What did this motherfucker do to you, baby girl?” His voice was much sweeter, patient with you.

And you knew your answer would effect a lot. Including, what would happen to Jamie and whether Michael would know that, with your blessing, you were not only supporting him in whatever he chose to do but encouraging it. Everyone knew it, as it felt as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for you to say the word and just end poor Jamie’s painful suffering already.

You had to question yourself a little when you didn’t hesitate to answer. “H-he grabbed me and pressed…against me. A-and he said I’m easy, that I cheated on you w-i-ith Ash…” Your voice was soft, still humiliated that someone would say that to you in front of an audience, let alone that you had to repeat it for your boyfriend. Luckily for you though, you didn’t have to worry about whether or not he’d believe you over him. You knew he’d always choose you.

Michael’s small smile wasn’t lost on you. It wasn’t due to situation but instead due to the fact that this was the first time you were supporting him on his violent tendencies. And he was more than happy to appease you. In fact, when your words fully sunk in, he was more than ready to do anything at your command. Because no one touched or disrespected what was his.

“You hit on my girlfriend, press up against my girlfriend. When you know she’s mine. She belongs to me. It’s like you don’t give a shit what’ll happen to you.” He lifted Jamie’s slumped figure up, just enough for his fist to connect directly with his face. Just right so he heard the sickening crack of his nose.

At that you did flinch, just a bit. And maybe Michael was watching you to know when you hit your limit or maybe he knew he had to stop before he really lost control. But he dropped Jamie’s shrieking body to the ground, resolving to just kicking his stomach harshly three times until Jamie curled up in a ball. “No one disrespects my girl, especially with shit that isn’t true.”

Michael looked at the crowd around him, “And that goes for everyone who thinks they can touch what’s mine and get away with it. Got it?” His possessiveness was obvious in his words and angry face.

It was then you stepped forward, allowing him to take your wrist in his hand once he turned back around to you, his face twisted in anger and his chest heaving quickly with unshed frustration. You had an inkling of where he would release that frustration and you bit your lip with anticipation. He dragged you out of the party without a word, the partygoers parting quickly, more quickly than usual, to give him a clear path out.

He was silent all the way to his house, though granted it was only a block away. It was pitch dark and you couldn’t remember the last time you walked alone in this neighborhood at night. You however, didn’t feel much fear with you being dragged behind Michael. No one would dare stop him or mess with you, especially with him looking so angry. The grip on your wrist was almost painful.

The way he threw you carelessly on his bed in his dark bedroom told you everything you needed to know about just how frustrated he was. He knew just how much you loved being manhandled, treated almost like a toy. And when mixed when something you loved more, how much he cared for you - protecting you to a fault, it was hard to feel anything but a growing need for him.

“I’m not going to be gentle.” He warned.

You felt breathless when you answered. “I don’t want you to be. Use me.”

When he turned on the lights, you could see the way his eyes darkened with desire, something you were sure your eyes mirrored. It was the first time you had found his fighting hot, more because it was to defend and protect you, remind people that you were his.

When he joined you on his bed, ridding you of your clothes quickly, you were quick to help him. “Can’t leave you alone for a second.” He mumbled when you were finally naked. He took a hold of your hips, moving himself so he was directly between your legs and jean clad crotch grinding into you. “Those fuckers don’t know who you belong to unless I’m right beside you. Don’t know their place.”

You moaned, your eyes nearly rolling to the inside of your head. The friction was so good. But you needed more, you let him know that as you wiggled your hips against him.

Michael shed off his hoodie but he didn’t let it go flying across the room like he did with everything else. Instead he handed it to you, “Wear this while I fuck you.”

You didn’t have to ask why. You knew. It was something that was his and it would just embody the fact that you were his, you belonged to him, that you’d only ever do something like this with him. And you were more than happy to oblige when you put the oversized black hoodie on. It smelled just like him and you couldn’t help but inhale his scent as it covered your body. The sleeves went well past your hands but you scrunched up the sleeves, the end of the hoodie traveled to your mid thighs.

A now shirtless Michael, taking off his belt and jeans, groaned when he saw you. There was something in the way you looked so small, so vulnerable in something that was his that made him get painfully harder in his pants.

You let yourself admire the artwork lining his toned body. Leaning forward, his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing as he brought your lips to his. The kiss was deep, his tongue exploring your mouth hotly and you couldn’t help but to moan around his lips. He pulled away not long after, forcing you down on your back again as he wasted no time in grabbing your hips, aligning himself into you.

His eyes looked up to watch you as he rubbed the tip of his cock along your slit, “You’re fucking mine.” At your moan, his hand around your neck tightened, “That’s right, no one else will ever have you like this, they’ll never touch you like I will. Especially not that fucking piece of shit.”

With that, he entered you, making you arch your back as you gasped. You’d never get tired of feeling so deliciously full by his length. You were already so wet, he slid easily into you.

When he began thrusting into you, the peace was brutal but it was just what you both needed. He needed to get out his frustration (which you were more than happy to let him use you for) and you needed a release after the night’s events, especially an event you didn’t even really want to go to in the first place.

Michael was content with watching the way your small body, eclipsed under his, was writhing under him. The way your legs wrapped around him, asking for more, your mouth dropped open as whimpers of pleasure left it, the way your tits sprung out over his half zipped hoodie draped over your sweaty and bouncing frame. You were so hot. And just the thought of another man’s hands on you, him not being there to protect you from the boy’s cruel and disrespectful words, had him growling and slowing his thrusts just to slam into you harder and deeper.

“You liked seeing me beat the shit out of him, little one? Did you get turned on at seeing me protect you, showing him that you’re mine?”

Your eyes were screwed shut, unsure if you could even answer when you felt so lightheaded with pleasure. But then Michael’s hand left your neck and slapped you once on your cheek, the sting of which made you clench around his girth, leaving you panting for more. “Say it.”

“Yesyesyes” You screamed out, “I loved it, daddy. Loved seeing you so mad, showing him this pussy’s yours and only yours. Only you can fuck my tight pussy.” Knowing your words did wonders for his possessive ego, your hand went down to your clit, rubbing furiously as you opened your eyes to stare into Michael’s eyes.

But his gaze was where you finger was currently working. He wasn’t smiling but the way his jaw was clenched showed you just how much he enjoyed the visual in front of him.

Michael chuckled humorlessly, spreading your legs even further as his thrusts became more punctuated. Loving the way your cunt was so still so tight, each thrust felt like he was fighting for your walls to accept him. “Fuck yeah. Take my big dick like the good little fuck-toy you are, look how used you are to me.” His fingers found their way into your hair, pulling your hair harshly.

“Look at you, being so shy, innocent and peaceful in front of others but you get wet whenever I get a little pissed off. You were trembling in there but now you’re just my little whore. Isn’t that right? Bouncing on my dick, wearing my hoodie while I have some other guy’s blood on my knuckles.”

Your mouth opened involuntarily at his words. You were too far gone to even think through your actions. But he didn’t miss a beat in his thrusts as he leaned forward, spitting directly in your mouth. You moaned as you swallowed.

“Nasty girl. I should’ve fucked you in front of him. Let him see me fucking you raw. Let him hear how tight your fucking cunt is, see how fucking wet you’re leaving my dick, but how he can never have you.” Michaels grunts and groans have become almost desperate.

Your hips were moving on their own accord, desperately looking for your release and to make Michael feel as good as possible. It worked if Michael’s tight grip on your neck was anything to go by.

“I would’ve put him in the hospital for disrespecting you like that, for making you upset, if I wasn’t too busy thinking about having my dick in you.” Michael muttered as the noise of skin slapping became louder. “When you just watched me fuck him up, I’ve never been harder...Fuck. It was so hot knowing you were letting me do that, that you liked it. I wanted to destroy him for you. Destroy him and then let you suck on my cock while he watched. Show him what that shy little mouth is good for, only for me.”

Both of your bodies were glistening by the time Michael kneeled, allowing his dick to move deliciously against your tight walls. “I really did taint you, didn’t I?”

Your sweet, virginal smile was enough for his hips to stutter at his incoming orgasm. But his expert hips just moved faster into you, enjoying the way your moans got higher in pitch and the way they stuttered out of your mouth. Your back arched at his movements.

“Harder. Give it to me harder, Mikey.” You barely got out. But as he wrapped both of his hands around your throat, pulling you up so that only your hips were laying on the bed, you knew he got the message. He had your face only centimeters from his, his eyes watching your clouded ones carefully as his hips moved with stamina, pounding into you as roughly as he could.

It was so hot in the room. It surely didn’t help that you were wearing his large hoodie. But you didn’t dare take it off. Instead, as one side of the fabric slowly fell over your shoulder, you took one of the strings of the hoodie in your mouth, looking up at Michael with hooded eyes, watching the way his still frustrated features honed in on your body.

The headboard was pounding against the wall behind it so much that you were worried anyone walking by outside could hear it. But as Michael took out the string and instead put two fingers into your mouth while he continued pounding into you, you stopped thinking of much else.

Michael was panting slightly, “Wish I could show that wannabe just what a fucking slut you are for me. How you let me do whatever I want to you. Only me. You’ll never be ‘easy’ for anyone else, let alone that cocksucker. They’re wasting their time and safety flirting with what’s mine.” He spit out the word easy like it was an insult against him that night. But if it was an insult to you, it might as well have been. “Fuck, you’re mine. Only mine to have, to love, to fuck.”

You were shaking you head as you felt the way his thick dick moved in and out of you at such a delicious pace. “Only for you, daddy. I’m only a slut for you.”

His hand around your throat gave you another harsh slap, harder than the first one but it just made you let out an elongated, pleased moan.

“That’s right, little one. Mine.” His possessive words were mixed with a growling groan.

Your mascara had to be running by then but you didn’t care. All you cared was the hot knot forming in your tummy, telling you you were close. And you were desperate to get to your release. Your walls clammed onto him, making him moan lowly.

You felt his fingers in your hair before he pulled your head back harshly, exposing your throat to him. His lips found your skin, leaving open mouth kisses and bites. No doubt searching to leave as many hickeys as possible, literal signs for anyone that looked at you that you were his. And you had no intention on covering them up the next morning.

“Such a good little hole for me to fuck.” His degrading words only served to make you closer to the edge. His face scrunched up at his next words, “Can’t wait for to paint your walls with my cum. Fuck, I can’t wait to have your stomach round with my child. Then I’m gonna show you off to those bastards, show them what I did to you.”

Your stomach fluttered as you came around him, you couldn’t handle his words, the meaning of them, let alone handle the intense orgasm that rocked your body. But your moan turned into screaming when he continued railing into you, not slowing down even as you came down from your high. No, when his hands tightened around your throat again, choking you so you almost couldn’t breath. Almost. But it was so good, you could feel each slight movement of his hips tenfold, the way his cock was driving in and out of you.

He’d never gone to that extent before but he was mad tonight, he was frustrated. And you almost felt lucky for it when you saw him deep, angry eyes stare down at you, a mocking smirk on his face.

“What a good girl.” His voice was gravelly, “Letting me fuck you like this, letting me use you to get off, use you when I’m angry.”

You walls hugged his length perfectly and as your hips became thrusting to meet his own hips’ movements, his thrusts became lazy, slower. Until he came, his cum splashing beautifully into your cunt, filling you to the brim. It was so much, even when he finally pulled out of your impossibly tight entrance, a good amount dripped out of you.

You couldn’t move, even when he slowly let go of his grip on your throat, and settled your upper body down gently back on the bed, almost comically gentle form how he was only moments before. Then his lips found yours, kissing you deeply. A kiss that seemed to reflect all love, deep protectiveness and animalistic possessiveness he felt.

And when you pulled away to finally see his face again, you didn’t see a trace of anger on it anymore. He had fucked all of that away. Now, his face only held a mixture of contentedness and regret.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,” His words were tinged with just a hint of frustration as he looked away in shame. “I know you didn’t even want to go and then I go and I leave you alone…”

You shook your head, one of your fingers going up to his chin, pushing his face gently to face you again. Loving how obediently he followed your wishes, the way he listened to you no matter if he was the stronger one.

“It’s not your fault, Mikey. It was his. But you were there when it mattered, you protected me in the end. And I love you for that, thank you.”

Your heart melted at the happy smile that overtook his face, the one that showed you it would all be okay. He leaned down again, giving you a peck on the lips. “I love you too, so much, baby girl.”

He buried his face into your dark hair, “I’m sorry that you saw me like that, too. I know you hate violence but the shit he said and did….you’re mine but when I saw him pressing up against you, saying shit only I should say to you, I lost it. I couldn’t control myself. Then I saw you shaking and almost crying…” At your hum, he continued. “And when I heard what he said to you…I saw how embarrassed you were. I’m sorry, everyone knows it isn’t true, I know it isn’t true, and if they don’t I’ll make sure they fucking figure it out by tomorrow.”

At his poorly hidden threat, you giggled just a bit. Making his face shoot up to stare at you in wonder. He thought for sure you’d be mad, that you’d chastise him for being so violent all the time. But there you were, staring at him with an amused smile. Maybe he had been right when he said you liked this side of Michael, at least when it was to protect you.

You shrugged at his incredulous look, “It was kind of hot. Especially when you get so possessive over me.”

A disbelieving chuckle left him, “Yeah? I would say get hit on more often then, you’ll see that side of me a lot more. But I don’t want to see that.”

#5sos smut #michael clifford smut #michael clifford x reader #bad boy smut #jealous smut #bad boy michael #5sos #5sos imagines

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 4 years

Text

Travelers in the Dark Chapter 4

Chapter Title: Bunker Underneath the Surface

Summary: If Virgil was told a month ago that events that transpired and led him into meeting Logan and the others, he’d laugh at the absurdity of it. Now it scared how quickly he’d grown to care for these humans. Still he has some fears over staying with them, fears that swirl in his mind when Logan asks for a quick chat between the two.

Pairings: platonic lamp

Chapter Word-Count: 3.4k

Warnings: Vampires, Fear, Panic, Implied Non-Graphic Violence, Blood Mention, Fantasy Racial Discrimination

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*dusts off this fic* It’s been a while, huh? Massive thanks to @theeternalspace for beta’ing this chapter as always!

I don’t think I mentioned this besides the ao3 tags, but the original plan behind this fic was to include villain!Janus later down the road. It won’t happen until the second half of this fic, and honestly, I’m still deciding if I’m still including that or going a different route, I just wanted to mention that it may be occurring.

If you don’t want to read content featuring him depicted that way, I understand. With the way the first half of this fic is designed, you can easily read the fic up to the point before villain!Janus might make an appearance and still enjoy it, as there’s basically two different story arcs that occur in this fic :)

Over the course of the next week, Virgil’s resolve to leave dissipated. It chipped away with Patton’s humming as he mixed together ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies. It splintered as Roman sauntered into the kitchen and swept Patton into an impromptu waltz. It fell apart as Logan tried to maintain a steady gaze on his physics book but the curve of his lips told Virgil he was amused by the others’ antics.

He’d never experienced such a warm, loving environment. He didn’t know they existed outside of fiction. If Virgil was told a month ago of the events that would transpire, he’d laugh at the absurdity of it all. Now it scared how quickly he’d grown to care for these humans.

In the stormy bleak world he’d grown up and lived in, it was every person for themselves. His foster parents took care of him simply for the money involved. His teachers could care less if he, a vampire, passed or failed. The one person he’d considered a friend only used him for their own gain in the end.

It’d been better to cease social interactions altogether. What was the point of subjecting himself to it when it always resulted in a negative outcome? After all, the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results.

Virgil was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. Or at least, he was smart enough to recognize it wasn’t worth it. Any other person might’ve gone the other extreme. They might’ve done whatever they pleased, regardless of what everyone else thought. They might’ve become what others expected them to be, because there was no other designated role in society for them.

Virgil refused. The last thing he wanted was to prove that the prejudices against vampires were valid. But again, he wasn’t stupid. He was just one person fighting an ocean of bigotry. Everyone knows you can’t fight the ocean because it does whatever its damn well pleases.

That was why he ran away from his foster family, from everything. He disappeared into the park, taking refuge in the trees. It had been safer to just give up than to play society’s game. He didn’t even finish high school. Every day became about finding his next meal, his next shelter, his next—well he didn’t need water to survive. One of the perks of being a practically immortal vampire.

When he reached eighteen, he stopped aging. Physically. Which sounded just as fun as it felt; being trapped in a perpetual state of puberty for potentially a hundred years or so. It varied from vampire to vampire, when they’d start showing signs again of physically aging. He was twenty-eight now, and still practically an adolescent by vampiric standards.

In fact, vampires at his age required more frequent feedings to put up with their young body’s fast metabolism. It meant that Virgil was hungry all day every day. It had been hard at the beginning. He’d never had to worry about meals while under the care of the state.

Quickly he understood how hard it was to resist the urges wired into his being. Once, he’d gone three weeks without a meal. Hunting down animals hadn’t been as easy as he’d thought. Even when he managed to capture the odd bird or two—it was enough for him to starve off the urges. But never enough to truly satisfy it.

Virgil blacked out at the end of those three weeks. When he regained consciousness, he stood in an unfamiliar alley over an unfamiliar body. Fresh blood dripped from his lips as he recoiled in terror—did he do this? Did he really kill someone? But then---then! The body’s chest rose, and he knew for certain the person was still alive.

Virgil should’ve called an ambulance, he should’ve turned himself in. He should’ve done something. But he didn’t.

He ran—his mind clouded with panic. He ran and ran until he reached the secluded security of the parks’ groves. There he collapsed, his body wracked with sobs.

The kids at his school had been right; they’ve been right all along, and Virgil had refused to see it. He was a monster. Maybe they were also right that he deserved to die. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Virgil secluded himself further in the park—being more mindful than ever to stay away from human contact. It was safer this way. Both for him and for everyone else. He couldn’t trust himself not to act on his impulses again. He became better at hunting wildlife animals. Too good, in fact.

There had started to be a suspicious shortage of squirrels in the park.

For years, his only focus in life had been on survival. He’d forgotten almost anything that wasn’t vital to that goal. The days all blurred into each other, a continuous cycle of monotony. He’d liked it—routines were comforting. They were predictable, they were safe.

Despite this, even vampires needed social interaction. There was a reason why vampires preferred to live in covens rather than in isolation. He lived ignorant of that need throughout his time in the park. He didn’t realize it existed until this week spent in the apartment with Logan, Patton and Roman.

There had been a void in his heart and those three humans managed to fill it. For the first time in a long, long while Virgil felt…happy. The sensation was alarming and terrifying but also good.

Did that make him selfish if he didn’t want to give that up?

He tried his best to fight against the growing desire to stay. The last thing he wanted was to endanger the only humans who have shown him kindness. The idea of one day waking up standing over their unmoving bodies tormented him. He grew used to constant hunger, yes, but it was different in the woods. At least there he wasn’t constantly around three viable food sources. Not that he wanted to ever think of the humans in that way. They were so much more than a source of food. Vampiric urges be damned.

Several days after the garlic bread debacle with Roman, Logan sat him down.

“I have a few questions to ask you. But before I ask them, I want to let you know that you are not obligated in any way to answer them. Nor does this inquiry have anything to do with my scientific pursuits or anything of that sort.”

If he was a human, his pulse would’ve quickened from the anxiety swelling up inside of him. His thoughts pinballed into a million different directions as he tried to figure out what could possibly be on Logan’s mind. Externally he leaned back on the couch, arms crossed in a casual manner.

“Shoot.”

“Shoot? Why would I shoot—”

“It’s slang. It means ‘ask away.’” Virgil clarified.

It became apparent quickly that Logan was not adept at slang. It was a sore spot for the veterinarian—he took pride in being right. He told Virgil that he only spoke if he was certain of what he was saying was correct. Still, he found discovering new knowledge invigorating. Rather than denounce slang, he tried his best to understand it. He kept a pack of flashcards with him to help remember the correct usage of them.

“Ah! I’ll have to remember to add that later,” He murmured before clearing his throat, “moving on. My first question would be, how often do you actually need to feed?”

Virgil froze, meeting the knowing gaze of the human. He’d been careful to take the bare minimum blood from both Logan and Roman. He hadn’t fed from Patton, and frankly he was trying to avoid that. The bond between a vampire and a donor was a complex, tricky thing.

The more blood he took, the more he risked strengthening such a connection. But both Logan and Roman were stubborn humans that refused to see their vampire guest starve. He’d managed to convince Logan he survived off less than what he actually needed. It was the truth—as long he conserved his energy and slept for longer periods. But it appeared Logan became suspicious—or maybe, had always been suspicious from the start.

“Did Roman put you up to this?” Virgil demanded, his nails digging into the flesh of his arms.

“While he did mention what happened with the garlic, he did not set me up to this. I’m asking out of my own vocation and…concerns,” Logan frowned, adjusting his glasses, “I’ve refrained from asking you questions about vampires’ physiology because the last thing I want to do is make you feel uncomfortable but…I just want to make sure you are getting proper nutrition. Your health is just as important to me as the others.”

Virgil sighed. What did he have to lose? Perhaps upon learning the truth, Logan would realize Virgil wasn’t worth their time and energy. As much as that thought hurt, it was for the best.

“I don’t really know,” Virgil confessed, “I’m always hungry. Squirrels and birds are enough to get by, but they’re…not enough. Maybe once, per day?”

Virgil closed his eyes, unable to force himself to see Logan’s reaction. There a was a few beats of silences before Logan inhaled deeply and said,

“I see. How many liters do you think that is?”

“Liters?” Virgil knitted his eyebrows together as he tried to recall how measurements worked, “I…have no idea.”

“As you know, I do not know much about vampire physiology, but do you think it’s similar to vampire bats?” At Virgil’s vacant stare, he elaborated, “vampire bats consume half their body weight per feeding.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Virgil shook his head, “It’s less, I think? But it depends on the source.”

“What do you mean?” Logan asked, leaning forward in interest.

“Look I don’t know how all the scientific shit works. But like, for some reason human blood is more nutritious? We can sustain on animal blood, but it’s not the same it’s like—it’s like—”

“Eating junk food compared to healthier alternatives?” Logan suggested.

“Yeah, I guess,” Virgil shrugged, slinking further into the couch, “We don’t have to drink as much human blood as we do with animal blood.”

“Fascinating,” Logan muttered, his hands twitching as if he wanted to scribble down these findings in a journal. He instead cusped his face with a hand, frowning. Virgil shifted nervously, waiting to hear the rest of Logan’s thoughts.

“I’m not sure though…if I and the others would be able to donate blood on a daily basis without severe risk to our health.”

“Wh—what?” Virgil said, his eyes widening in surprise. Logan actually sounded regretful of this fact. Whatever Virgil expected to come out of his lips, it wasn’t that.

Logan, however, seemed to take his reaction for something else entirely.

“You see, when humans donate blood for medical purposes, we are only allowed to donate every eight weeks or so to allow time for our red blood cells to replenish. Having a low red blood cell count is dangerous for humans…I am truly sorry about that, Virgil.”

“Wh—you have nothing to apologize for—I mean I wasn’t expecting you guys—” Virgil’s voice cracked, causing him to glance away in embarrassment, “you don’t have to do anything, really.”

“Virgil,” Logan said softly, “do you remember what I said when we began this discussion?”

Virgil’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you mean what you said about how you cared for…my health?” He asked hesitantly.

“Precisely,” Logan said, “I was stating the truth when I meant your health is important to me. After all, you are a friend.”

“You’re serious?”

“Of course,” Logan nodded, “only serious people wear neckties.”

He gestured to his necktie, and Virgil let out a chuckle.

“Y’know, you and the others are really making it hard for me to leave.” He murmured, “but I can’t stay. I—I just can’t. I can’t stay and possibly become a danger to you.”

“Virgil, you will not be a burden to us. It might be difficult, but I know the others and I would be willing to help figure out a solution for your dietary needs. Let me repay you—”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Then at least let me do this for you as a friend.”

There was again, the f word. It was really devilish of Logan to use it against Virgil. Especially since all he had ever wanted in life was to be loved and accepted by others. It was oh so tempting to just stay and live in the solace of the apartment. Until the day he outlived the others, by his hands or by natural causes. He didn’t know which one was worse.

Virgil swallowed, throat tightening, “Are you sure of this? Are you sure you want me around? I mean, you barely know me.”

“As certain as I am of the sun rise, yes.”

“Well there is one solution.” Virgil said with a slight groan. He couldn’t believe he was doing this.

Logan perked up, looking at Virgil with childish excitement. “What is it?”

“I’ve never done this and I don’t know like the exact scientific crap behind it. But if a vampire feeds from a, uh, human consistently, um, it’s like we inject something that keeps humans’ blood healthy. So like, I guess it helps reproduce red blood cells faster.”

“Incredible,” Logan murmurs, “I can’t believe—well, unfortunately I can understand why this isn’t common knowledge. But something like this proves vampires and humans as a whole could one day live harmoniously.”

“I mean, I doubt that,” Virgil laughed bitterly, “There is some…side effects. You might become, uh, enthralled for a brief period after a feeding. Like, very agreeable to whatever I suggest. So I get it if that makes any of you uncomfortable.”

He flitted his gaze towards his ratty shoes. A hand rested on his shoulder, soft and tentative. As if fully prepared to draw back if Virgil brushed it off. He looked up at Logan. The human looked back, a determined glint in his eyes.

“Virgil, I trust you. I can’t speak for the others but I’d like to test this arrangement between you and I. If for whatever reason, it does not work—either for you or for myself, then we can always find a different solution. Alright?”

“Okay.” Virgil choked, forcing his vision to remain clear and not blurry with tears.

So, he stayed. Patton’s eyes lit up like a kid receiving a puppy for Christmas. He immediately bombarded Virgil with one of his signature hugs. Roman laughed triumphantly as he clasped Virgil’s shoulder and promised him that he wouldn’t regret this. Logan hung back, but his soft smile told Virgil all he needed to know.

Staying meant that he had to find a job. Virgil had never held a job in his entire life, never mind the fact he didn’t have a high school diploma. Yet Virgil couldn’t live in good conscious as a freeloader in the apartment. He wanted to contribute to the apartment rent. In order to do that, he needed money. He was certain that the two quarters and the one nickel he had floating in his jeans pocket wouldn’t be enough.

He searched for businesses that would hire someone like him. Not only was he dealing with a rather sparse resume, but there was of course prejudice against vampires. The humans flaunted around words like “peace among species” and “equal rights for all” but that rarely was the case. Even with the Helsing Laws in effect. He’d like to say that their prejudice was entirely unwarranted but well…

Most vampires kept to themselves. They either believed staying quiet would bring about peace or they just stewed about it away from human ears. Then there were some vampires that believed they were the superior beings and not the humans. So they really didn’t have qualms about hurting humans to bring about their agenda. Something Virgil knew about too well.

Of course, the businesses couldn’t openly discriminate. The Helsing Laws prevented that. But the laws did nothing to stop the prejudices that still clung heavily to the air. It took just one smile—one laugh for them to see a flash of pearly white fangs and freeze up. They wouldn’t say it in words. But he could tell by their tone of voice and not so subtle wording that they were afraid.

They were afraid he’d snap and become an endangerment by attacking and drinking the blood of the first human he came into contact with. Honestly, humans were perfectly capable of eating their own kind’s flesh, yet you don’t see them worrying about that possibility.

It made it all the more hard to decipher then, who would hire him and who would cuss out his existence.

“So what makes you interested in working at our establishment?” The lady conducting his seventh interview asked. It was at a local, quirky coffeeshop—the kind that regulars claimed was way better than Starbucks.

Um because I want money? Virgil thought. He didn’t say it out loud, learning from his first interview that was apparently not what they wanted to hear. After that mishap, the others helped coached him through the right things to say. It still didn’t keep his intestines from knotting up out of nervousness.

“It seems like a chill, clean environment.” He shrugged.

“Well, thank you, we like keeping it that way for our customers,” She laughed, “but we do still expect our employees to work hard and not slack off. We can get busy especially in the weekday mornings and all day on the weekends. Do you think you can handle that?”

No.

“Yes,” Virgil said, lying through his teeth, “I’m pretty good at handling stressful situations.”

“Is there a specific example you can think of?”

Virgil twisted in his seat, doing his best not to fiddle with his fingers.

Here goes.

“Well, as a—a vampire, I’ve had to deal with people who don’t…like that much. So I’m good at making sure I keep my composure. Like if there is an upset customer, I—I think I could be good at staying calm and making sure they walk away happy.”

She pressed her lips together, “I see.” And then, “What would you say are some weaknesses of yours?”

The rest of the interview continued on. She didn’t make any sort of comment about Virgil being a vampire. He didn’t know what to make of that.

“I’ll call you soon on what my decision is.” She told him, although he learned by his second interview not to trust those words.

“How was it?!” Patton asked upon his return back to the apartment. He and Roman were sitting on the couch watching TV. Logan was gone from the apartment, too early for him to be home from work. Virgil said nothing. He took a few steps before crashing into Roman’s side.

“That bad, huh?” Roman chuckled, already drawing his arms around Virgil.

“Tired,” Virgil closed his eyes, “job interviews are fricking exhausting.”

He heard Roman’s voice say something as his senses turned all muddy and muted. Someone laughed. Patton? If he wanted to, he could’ve forced his eyes open to see. He was content, however, to just lie there and steal Roman’s body heat.

It was stupid how easily Virgil taken to be at ease with these humans. Then again, it was also stupid how easily they accepted him. If either party had malicious intent, it would be almost effortless for them. Like taking candy from a baby.

Sleep was a strange thing for vampires. They needed rest, yes, but they never slept as deeply as humans could. Even in his soundest sleep, Virgil had a murky awareness of things. He could feel Roman mess with his hair, carefully untangling it with his fingers. He heard Patton’s and Roman’s heartbeats, steady and strong as ever. There was also a different sound. A buzzing, ringing sound.

“—gil! Hey Virgil! Wake up!”

Virgil jolted, alert and ready. His eyes scanned everywhere but found no threats. He looked at Roman and Patton in confusion, “Huh?”

Patton smiled, holding out his phone, “It’s for you.”

For him? But that could only mean one thing—someone actually called him back after a job interview. With a shaky hand, Virgil took the phone from Patton.

“Hello?”

“Hi Virgil, this is you, right?” The voice on the other line said. It did sound like the lady from the job interview.

“Yes.” Virgil answered, biting his lips and trying not to hiss from the pain that produced.

The voice said more words. Virgil managed to say words back. The conversation lasted scarcely a minute yet seemed like an eternity. He handed the phone back to Patton, eyes glazed over.

“Well?” Patton wiggled his eyebrows, bouncing in his seat like a rambunctious Labrador.

“Well,” Virgil began with a hesitant sliver of a smile, “I got the job.”

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #kat writes

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terrialaimo · 4 years

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thinkingagain · 4 years

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“There’s so much of me that remains lost to me.” The Sir looked at the ground beneath him. “And lately, so much of me remains distant from myself.”

Sir Sleepy of the Bunny Nest (A Novel of the Revolution) Book Three: The Be Attitudes Chapter 10

It was a typical busy week at the Demesne.

Along with Frank and the Madam and her totem friends, Sir Sleepy of the Bunny Nest had been working for some days to help free black bears from areas overrun by Beasts. The bears were now often forced to forage populated Beast areas for food. Some Beasts had attempted to move the bears carefully to safer environments, but others wanted them removed immediately and killed if necessary.

The Demesne animals, with the Madam leading, had helped some kindly Beasts capture and relocate specific bears. Other bears, in more immediate danger, were moved through the Magic Animal Portal. Green Bear, working from the Demesne, had spent days identifying the location of various bears and passing the information along to the animals operating in the field.

The Aquatic Team had been trying to solve the mystery of the deaths of several hundred bluenose dolphins. The dolphins had a virus, which Beasts had named morbillivirus, which attacked dolphins every so often. Yet the deaths of so many dolphins at once didn’t seem an ordinary effect of the virus. Naomi, the young narwhale, had uncovered a host of secondary infections by fungi, bacteria and parasites.

Beast reports on the deaths had revealed similar conclusions. Had poor environmental conditions fueled by Beast agricultural runoff and other Beastly activities made dolphins unable to weather the disease? Ultimate causes remained unclear. The Aquatics had been helping dolphins move to safer water spots. They also had been using connections to inland magic fish to disable Beastly agriculture that involved pollution running off into streams and waterways. Safe spots would become few if the most deadly Beastly runoff was not shut down at its sources.

Meanwhile, other magic animal activities were underway, involving abandoned horses, mysterious bird deaths, and several local land use and wildlife struggles.

After a long day, the Sir and other Demesne animals were lounging under the protective evening shadows of the Animal Meeting Ground. Muffin had brought out the hapless Beast and was throwing it a ball. The Beast wouldn’t catch it but would track it down dutifully and walk it back. The Sir had a headache. He had spent the afternoon escorting a black bear out of a particularly labyrinth-like Beast suburb where the streets circled each other in ways meant to confuse non-residents.

In the suburb the Sir had suffered numerous encounters with neighborhood Beasts: Madams concerned for the bear, Madams terrified by him, shouting young Beasts who raced away or who threw rocks at the bear, full grown Beast males who had stood outside their front doorways with weapons they barely knew how to use but were eager to try. The Sir and Muffin had startled and tricked Beasts all day without a single direct confrontation. It had been wearing to feel all those Beast brains pressing against his own.

Koala Lampur was telling a story about how she had once led a group of koalas and pandas who had destroyed a dam. If built, the dam would have flooded a valley that was home to many animals.

The Madam and her totem friends walked up. She was wearing a long, loose dress that flowed in waves around her waist. “Madam,” the Sir said to her happily as he leaned against his sword.

The Madam ran her fingers along one of his rabbit ears. “You look tired.”

“I feel sometimes like I don’t have just one Beast brain in my head, but all the Beast brains in the world.”

“Oh do I ever know that feeling,” the Madam said.

“What do you do about it?” The Sir looked at her searchingly.

“Many things. A swim or a warm bath. A walk in the woods with my friends. Sometimes I just need to go somewhere alone. I take a long hike or find a place where I can sit in the shade. Anything that allows me to remember who I am.”

“Do you feel like you remember?”

“Sometimes. It’s not a matter of insisting that I’m this or that. It’s a matter of feeling in my body until I find myself.”

“There’s so much of me that remains lost to me.” The Sir looked at the ground beneath him. “And lately, so much of me remains distant from myself. It’s difficult, yet it seems a feeling that your kind must have often.”

“That’s true,” the Madam said. “That’s one of the reasons I never wanted to feel too much like my kind.”

Some brush crunched behind the Sir. He turned quickly. The others looked too.

Jack came up out of a thick patch of greenery. He had been gone from the Demesne for several of the now waning summer months. His fur was torn and scraped, though it didn’t look painful or dangerous. He looked like an experienced, adventurous jack rabbit who had been scratched up by throwing himself energetically into the world. “There you all are. It’s good to be back. I feel ready to take it easy now through the winter.”

The Sir came up to Jack and threw his rabbit forelimbs around him. “I’m very glad you’re here. I missed you.”

Jack startled momentarily at the Sir’s enthusiastic warmth. “I’m glad to be here. Traveling is fantastic, but the Demesne is home.”

The Sir straightened the ruffled sleeves on his gold shirt with blue stars. “I am glad you think of that way. Not every animal has been able to feel the same, although I have understood and appreciated their reasons.”

“Strange that you should bring that up,” Jack said. “You’ll never guess, so I’ll tell you. I’ve seen Scruffy.”

The Sir’s rabbit ears grew alert with surprise. “You’ve seen our wonderful friend Scruffy? There’s been no word from him at all since he left the Demesne.”

Jack nodded. “In the mountains of what Beasts call Vermont. I ran afoul up there of a random Beast trap.” He held out one leg which had a now healing gash across it. “I might have figured my own way out, but I didn’t have to. Some little rabbit came up behind me and had me out of there quicker than a Beast can insult an animal. It was Scruffy. I laughed. He growled at me, thinking maybe I was laughing at him or something. Then he saw who I was. And you won’t believe it, but he laughed too. Scruffy actually laughed!”

“Our long lost friend Scruffy!” The Sir felt astonishment move through his body. “What would we have done without him in the desperate fight to create the Demesne? How is he?”

“Well. No less stubborn. I told him he’d be welcome to visit. He said he appreciated it, but he had his home near where we were right then and didn’t intend to travel. He’s that same tough, determined little bunny we all knew. Trying to change his mind about something is impossible.”

“I have always hoped to see him again,” the Sir said wistfully. “He’s the only companion we lost in the early days.”

“Well, why don’t you?” Jack flecked with a rabbit paw at the fur on one side of his head. “He said he’d be happy to see anyone who would like to visit him there where he lives, near a lake in the high mountains. It’s not an easy place to get. But it can be done.”

#bunny #rabbit #revolution #empire #satire #animals #animal rights #politics #adventure #theory #fantasy #science fiction #environmentalism #sir sleepy #wisdom #wisdom text

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