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lameghost · 3 years

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Scream blue murder.

Bonten! x yakuza! leader [part 3]

word count - 2,538

💿 - deathwish by poutyface, to the bone by j.t machinima

Warnings❕- angst + fluff+ suggestive. Mentions of death, sewer slide, drugs, physical and mental abuse.(slight hints of ptsd) Mentions of Izana x reader and others. Spoilers! Bonten arc. Blood and gore. (pinky cutting and mentions of gas poisoning, mass murder.) reader goes berserk! putting a knife in each other's throat? reader is freaky fugg. and also apparently, an expert at chemistry.

[part 1] [part 2]

“So, 12 years… You were gone, just like that and you aren’t gonna say anything, huh? Saying ‘I love you’ like that, ain’t fucking fair, y/n. I missed you for all those years. I searched for you like a madman. Fuck, you didn’t even come by to look for me or shit. You know how fucking miserable I was, after Izana was gone and you too!” Everyone flinched at the sight of the usually calm Kakucho raising his voice. You were surprised too, but you kept on an indifferent facade as you looked down, guilt overwhelmed you.

Kakucho takes a few steps towards you, “I wanna hate you for it but I can’t. You’re too fucking precious to me. The last one I have here, and I thought you were fucking dead.” You did no such attempt to avoid the slap which landed on your face as tears flowed down Kakucho’s face. You heard the faint gasp from all the executives of Bonten. You just kept quiet.

“Hug me, god fucking damn it. I missed you.” With no hesitation, you engulfed him in a hug, basking in his warmth which came into contact with your bare skin. You smiled, relishing the memories of your childhood.

“Fucking hell that was touching as shit.” Sanzu fake cries, deep down he still felt bad since he knew that you were as important to Kakucho as Mikey was to him. Losing you would have meant losing his entire world. In reply, you lifted your middle finger, sticking out your pierced tongue at the pink-haired male. He chuckles slowly.

“Holy shit, yer got piercings, that’s hot, dude.” You nodded at Rindou’s question .

“Show us, I mean your tattoos and piercings.”

“That’s a pretty specific kink you have, Sir Mikey. I mean, I know I look hot as shit but.” He snickered, signalling that he only wants your full identification.

“If you insist, your honour.” You fake sighed as you turned around and began explaining your tattoos.

“29 piercings and last I checked, around 18 or 19 tattoos. Got my first tattoo at 13, illegally. Thank god I didn’t die of infection or some shit. Dude was a nice guy, he even taught me how to take care of a new tat.” They all gasped, ‘doesn’t that shit hurt you?’. Ran and Rindou who were basically half covered in tattoos were also surprised by your ability to withstand the pain.

“Which one hurt the most though? Your tits or sumn?” Sanzu bluntly asks as he touches the tattoo on your left arm.

“Oh well, yer wanna see? Better pay money though.” You smirked and sent him a wink as you gave him a slight teaser of your tattoo, he blushed. Welp, you broke the dope peddler.

“You’re quite a mystery, aren’t you?” Mikey says, his voice dark and screechy, almost like he has been straining it.

“Your back. That ain’t a tattoo. Someone carved those characters into you.” He traces the Chinese characters on your back. You slightly flinched at the sudden cold touch of his finger. “Only the top brass of Yakuza has this, yeah? Which means, you’re the current hidden leader of the Yakuza. Working for them quietly backstage, is that fun? Don’t you wanna take the credit?” He was inches away from your face, you tilted your head slightly at his demise.

“Take credit? Pftt. Observant but dumb aren’t yer, pretty boy?” You cupped his jaw between your gloved fingers. “I fucking love it when people worship me, bow to me and praise me for all my work but I wouldn’t want my pets to go unrecognised do I? Plus, isn’t it harder to keep myself lowkey from the police that way? I have my plans, baby and I don’t like it when people question me.” You smiled and let go of his jaw, never in his life has he been this stunned by someone’s actions and indifference. This was a first.

“This carving was done by my dad. I was the only child who was able to take over the family business so, here I am. Healthier than ever!” You smiled, highlighting the dimples which brightened your eyes even more under the light which shone above you.

“So, you’ve taken a blood oath?” Kokonoi asks, curious.

“Oh that’s fucken bullshit. We don’t do those. We’re just old delinquents who don’t wanna follow laws, we don’t sacrifice ourselves. I mean that does sound cool though. The most we do is cut our pinky. I’ve cut 12 as of this week,” You sat back down, nonchalantly telling them. You put your suit back on, adjusting the tie.

Bang! A loud gunshot was heard from behind you, in one swift movement, you swooped Ran and Sanzu who were directly in front of you. ‘Top criminal organisers but can’t see a bullet coming their way? Great, fucking idiots.’ You looked down, the bullet grazed by your shoulder slightly. Thank god for that. You picked up the shell and the bullet which landed not far from it. You analysed the bullet, standing up immediately after recognising it. ‘Mauser C96. 0.45 ACP. Made in Germany. Oh fuck, why are they here?’

“Oi, you twinks. Came here to save me or something?” One by one, your members peeked their heads out from behind the oil tanks. Number 2, Tanaka Ryu. This kid has been behind you since juvie days. Once he got out, he looked for you and followed you till the very end even if it meant jumping into hellfire for you.

“If I couldn’t fight, I would have died to these hot dudes, you know? Do we need to practice again? Should I drill it into your brains?” All the members, a good 25 of them, stood at attention, weapons dropped to the floor with their hands behind their back.

“No, your honour!” In unison, their voices echoed one another. Bonten was too stunned to say a thing. Their mouths merely shut tight as your dominant aura overflowed through the entire warehouse.

“Good, and Tanaka, don’t mind, okay? Small mistake. I’m fine, n’ways.”

“Apologies, your honour. Take my pin-” You shushed him as you signalled everyone to get down and ready their weapons. Bonten, who was behind you, followed your command. You gestured for Mikey to come to your side, he slowly strides towards you.

“Mikey, listen. Now, your turf is being infiltrated. You heard that gunshot? Nagant M1895. That strong shit is only used by the Yakuza traitors. Those fuckers have been on my back for the last few months and I need a few extra hands so that I can alert my turf. After that, I’ll help yer. There should be at least 230 of them. 2 top heads and the other 8 executives. The rest are all their lackeys, bad fighting skills but good spirits. Now, we separate, I’ll alert your members too.”

You and Mikey, the leaders, moved into positions immediately. Working together for the first time but it almost seemed as if you’ve worked together for the past 10 years. You stationed Sanzu and your number 3, Haruto, right in front of you. These two are wild and have a few screws loose in their brains, so they make a good pair. They can slaughter some while you make a few alerts to your guards in your territories. You wanted to get it over and done with fast even if it meant, murder. So, you analysed whatever you had in your reach.

“Y/n-chan. What are you doing? I wanna smoke.” Sanzu said, questioning what you were looking at.

“Shush, let me think of a way to get rid of evidence fast and simple.” Haruto drags Sanzu back to their station as they both chat away, swinging the bloodied weapons in their hands. Psychos, I swear.

‘Benzoyl peroxide, TNT, fire extinguisher, bleach, ammonia and diesel.’ Fucking hell, they were making this a bit too easy isn’t it? You called Sanzu and Haruto over to help you. You took the empty tank, putting on your mask before starting and gesturing the two males to do the same. You poured the bleach into the empty tank followed by ammonia.

‘Do you think what you’re doing is right?’ The tiny voice in your head asks. ‘Well these people mass murdered 226 of the Yakuza members, isn’t it only fair?, ‘Of course, but can’t the police punish them?’. ‘What. They hurt me, not the police, I’ll make them save me a seat in hell. Especially that blabbermouth oldie.’, ‘I guess there’s no stopping you, y/n l/n. You’re a murderer after all.’ Wait, what the fuck? I’m not! They did it first, why is it me? Why am I to blame? Fuck, fuck you. ‘You’re a murderer by nature, y/n. That’s why your Mom and Dad passed this onto you.’ Shut up. They’re dead, they are just ashes, seeping into earth or maybe being swallowed by maggots. Those 2 are dead to me. ‘Your mom isn’t dead. Not yet.’ Well, I want her dead. ‘You gonna kill her, too? Like what you did to your old man? You’re naive, a pretty soul, one that I would kill to dirty but you already did it yourself.’

You halted your movements, Sanzu and Haruto stared wide-eyed at your face. Your face contorted with rage, aura screaming murder at them. This brings Sanzu back to 12 years ago when- nevermind. “Earth to y/n, we gonna continue?”

“Haruchiyo. Katana. Haruto, pass him your pistol, I’ll be right back.” ‘You’re gonna regret it, y/n.’

“SHUT UP! HOLY FUCK SHUT THE FUCK UP! UGH!” You let out an indignant roar, making Kakucho and Mikey halt their movements as they continued throwing punches to the opposing team. Kakucho ran towards you, covered in blood which did not belong to him.

“Hey, y/n. Hey, look at me.” You looked at him, tears of anger welling up in your eyes. (You can only cry when you’re angry but not when you’re sad.) He pats your back, telling you to kick some ass to relieve your anger. Well, that was your green light.

You swung the Katana out from your back which had a strap, tailor made for you to store katanas. As always, pecking the handle beforehand, showing respect. ‘About 104 left, gonna be easy.’ The rest of your members and Bonten members along with the executives gathered, wanting to watch you fight. It was almost like a playback of 12 years ago.

You dropped the katana to the floor, jumping onto the first person you see, hanging from the shoulder. You swung around, possibly breaking his spine and picked up two other men by their collars. Swinging them towards the tower of diesel tanks, you made your way to your next victims.

“So, pick yer death.” You smirked, but your eyes were empty and lifeless. Your bloodthirsty aura engulfed the entire warehouse, stripping the audience off any form of excitement. The male approached you, in a split second, he was inches from your face.

“HAHAHAAHA, you’re fast but you lack experience, sweetheart.” You caressed his face, voice coated full of sinister but in his ears, it was like honey. It gave his brain whiplash how contrasting your voice was to your actions. Without batting an eye or even giving him room to recover from your touch, your left leg flew forward. Landing directly onto the wound of his temple, plunging onto the floor. You took the chance to take a seat on his back.

You rummaged through his pockets, stopping when you found his phone. You dialed a number, the others stared at you curious. “I need about, uhh, 7, no, 8 ambulances, for the Shibuya area. The warehouse down the second turn. Thank yer!” You smiled and threw the phone across the room.

“Now, there’s only… let me see… 3 of you left. Rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets to pick the lucky one.” You signaled them to start playing, with trembling figures, the 3 males began playing. You placed the lit cigarette in between your lip, enjoying others misery.

“She’s kinda hot, though.” You heard Sanzu whistling and howling from behind you as you exhaled the smoke and took off your blazer, rolling up your sleeves. You sent a kiss his way as you made your way to the poor male - a prisoner of his own bad luck.

“Hey, mister. Long time no see. I’m bigger now, if you can’t clearly see.” You subtly flaunt, towering over the male before you. You bent lower so you could make direct eye contact with him. The eye contact sent cold shivers down his spine which made him froze, his lips quivered as you moved your gloved finger, gliding down his tattooed back.

“Oi, mister. I’m talking to you, it’s rude to not reply to your master, y’know? It kinda hurts my feelings,” You faked your sadness, pretending to sob into his shoulders. If he wasn’t already stiff, he is now officially the statue of liberty.

“Y-yes, your honour!”

“Good pet. Now, let me get my work done. You know what happens to traitors, don’t you? Perverted old man.” You removed the kunai which was secured tightly in the pocketed garter which hung from your thigh. You simpered, looking pleased at the amount of fear you could elicit from the pathetic man.

“AHHHHHHHH!” He writhed in pain, screaming blue murder.

“Okay, that was the last one! 12 plus 10 equals 22! 22 pinkies!” You giggled, cracking a smile from your scarred mouth. A horrifying sight, it was.

“Fuck, didn’t know you were capable of such cruel shit.” Ran sends a surprised look, scanning you up and down as you wiped the blood off your gloves and chuckled.

“Born and bred to do this shit.”

You knew you were done but there was some unsettling feeling that irked your senses, but what was it? Could it be you forgot something-

“We’ll take over from here, as an apology and a thank you for not murdering us.” Mikey said, a small smile on his face.

“Oh no, it was great working with you, Sir Mikey.”

“Don’t call me that, on god, I’ll put a knife in your throat.”

“Do it then, it’s not a threat Mikey. ” Your little bicker was put to a stop when Kokonoi seemingly ‘cleared his throat’ loudly.

“So, you’re a professional torturer, a sugar mommy, free show stripper, yakuza leader, a mass murderer, chemist and now, a hooker. What else do we not know about you?” Kokonoi asked, voice laced with curiosity. His eyebrows raised as his eyes searched for answers in yours.

“Oh darling, I’m a walking unsolved mystery. Yer wanna find out? Yer gotta dig deep into the layers of this earth. Yer wanna solve me still?”

“Yeah, I do.” The short, purple haired spoke up. (You forgot his name.)

“Oh then, put on a raincoat. This year’s theme is bloody halloween. Wouldn’t want blood staining yer expensive suits.” You stuck out your tongue, making a move as sirens filled the quiet warehouse.

‘Roppongi, Don Quijote, 31st October, 9 P.M. Be there or else you owe me candy.’ The boys chuckled, making a run as the police broke in.

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 3 years

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abshwvshsh imagine Paladin Danse with Baby Fever.

Got alittle drabble?

*I got like an idea where Paladin Danse and Alex(fallout oc) go on a mission and end up finding an orphan baby and as Alex is taking care of it, Paladin Danse is like 😍😍🤩🤩. So yea lol.*

(I totally deviated from the prompt but I was hoping this would be satisfactory as well? 😅 if not, I'm more than happy to write for the original prompt, just send me another ask)

Perhaps this feeling was simply a product of the desertion he felt after exile.

You were so very kind to him. You were there for him when he had hit the lowest point fathomable, when his life as he knew it was ripped away from him and left him with this deep melancholic emptiness. It took time, of course, but like always- you were patient with him, truly there for him.

If asked, Danse wouldn't know exactly how you did it, but piece after piece you managed to put back together what he once felt was broken beyond repair. Maybe it was the way you valiantly fought to reassure his life's value, maybe it was the long days you spent at his side so he may not feel lonesome, but most likely it was the love you professed that let him know that if someone as wonderful as you could have such profound feelings for something like him...then yes, maybe he was truly worth more than he believed.

Nonetheless, there were still some times that Danse would sit in your cozy little home, a far off look in his eyes as he thought deeply about something you just couldn't quite put your finger on. Once, you would've been able to just look at him and know what troubled him- a trait he didn't care for in the slightest- but lately...he wasn't quite as easy to read.

His identity would forever be something he struggled with no matter how much progress the two of you made, this you knew and understood, but whatever was on his mind as of recent didn't seem to have the same effect. For instance, these moments you'd catch him in..he wouldn't look nearly as tense, which may be a fruitless observation to note- but hey, every little detail meant something with Danse. In addition to this, the proud ex-paladin would usually seek your comfort if his mind raced to such dark places and now he would only sit in silence.

Instead you were left puzzled, watching the man you love sit and continue on with his mental strife- only moving every so often to fidget with the glistening metallic band on his left ring finger.

You never would've guessed that the reason he was so deep in though stemmed from the child sitting on your kitchen counter, eating one of Danse's prized snack cakes with Shaun. The child happened to be one of the settler's kids, a little girl around six years of age- so far too young to help out in the farm, and too young to leave unattended..so naturally, with you being the bleeding heart you are, you agreed to help out the girl's parents and watch her every so often while they worked. Besides, after your marriage to Danse..and Shaun coming home, there wasn't very much adventuring going on anymore. It wasn't a big deal though, Shaun rather liked having company (even if he preferred hanging out with Duncan more) and having a younger child around didn't bother you in the slightest.

Unbeknownst to you, watching the way you cared for the two children really struck a nerve within Danse. It was almost enchanting to watch you fuss after them, leading his mind to wander off to the most fantastical places.

"Okay, Shaun, do you think you can handle taking her back home? Her ma and pa should be finished working out in the field by now. I'll send Dogmeat with you." You spoke, receiving a rather exasperated expression from your little boy as he gracelessly slid off the counter, feet landing with a soft *thud*.

He proceeded to hold a hand out to his much shorter, younger friend to help her down. "No problem mom..." He all but grumbled as he began to lead her out the side door. A blur of brown and black fur at your feet let you know your faithful companion was at attention and ready to escort the two children- a happy bark followed by the closing of the door eased your mind shortly thereafter.

Had it been anywhere else, you probably wouldn't have let Shaun leave without you or Danse..but given that the girl's parents lived two doors down- you didn't really worry. However, you DID worry about the ex-paladin.

With a casual sigh, you sauntered your way into the living room- only a little surprised when you realized your entrance hadn't done much to catch his attention. Regardless, you pushed on and decided to sit right beside him- smiling just the slightest bit whenever his gaze finally shifted away from his wedding band and to you instead.

"Alright." You began, making no qualms about scotching closer over to him until he instinctively wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "What's eating at you?" You simply prodded, head resting on his chest.

Danse visibly stiffened, as though under the impression that his silence went unnoticed. He couldn't have been more wrong- he knew better than to think anything would get passed you. Even if it had, the thrumming of his synthetic heart against your ear surely gave him away.

Before he dignified your question with a response, he shifted around so that he could properly face you- still holding you yet able to move his head in such a way that he might be able to see the way you'd react completely to what his next words were going to be. And…maybe to get your attention away from the heavy beating in his chest.

That's really when you noticed it. The fleeting look in his eyes, the unsteadiness of his breath, the slight pink shade decorating his nose and cheeks..Danse was nervous.

"This..I apologize but this going to seem completely out of the blue.." He finally spoke, sighing as he closed his eyes just for a brief moment- trying to collect himself so that his nerves might not get the best of him. This is a matter that he had been wrestling with for some time now, the last thing he wanted was to get so anxious that he couldn't speak.

Alas, calming down seemed to only get harder for him. True, it had only been a few seconds since he spoke but the way you looked at him, so concerned and so..sweet, made time slow down and his damned heart incomprehensibly race.

"Whatever it is Danse, I've got you.." Great- now that concern he picked up on was lacing your voice as well.

Was it truly necessary for him to complicate things to such extremes? It's not like the topic was completely alien to either one of you..and damnit, you're the one person he felt he could speak his mind freely to..so why wasn't this any easier?

Then came the words you never, ever, ever, would've expected to hear from his mouth.

With his eyes soft, and his voice even more so, Danse spoke. "I know we have Shaun, and don't get me wrong- I truly do love the boy as a son, my son...but have you ever considered what having a child of our own would be like?" It was in that instant that Danse realized how abrupt his words may have came out, that tender gaze of his slowly retreating to look anywhere but you. "Forgive me, it's um..it's selfish of me to anticipate you being ready for such a thing, especially considering what we have both went through this past year.."

Unable to focus on much else but the drumming noise inside your head from the profound beat of your heart, your trembling hands grabbed at his and squeezed.

"You know..you have a bad habit of cutting me off before I can tell you what I think, sir." You laughed, trying to distract from the tears threatening to well up. Sure, it may have been a slight over reaction but..with Danse wanting a family..it was one hell of a step in a good direction. "What happened in the past..well, it should stay there. The two of us have something most people never get, we have the ability to start anew and leave our troubles behind us, Danse. So...god, I don't think much else would make me happier than having a baby with you.."

Once the ex-Paladin got over the initial shock of your words, he all but mauled you in a breath-stealing kiss- his arms wrapping tightly around you to the point of making the promise of breath a distant memory. Nonetheless, you couldn't help but enthusiastically kiss the man back...at least until-

"MOM! Gross!!" Shaun shrieked, having opened the door at quite possibly the least opportune time. Great.

Danse pulled back with a shameful blush on his face, averting his eyes from the young boy who was now fake gagging as he walked off to his room.

“Guess we oughta see if Mac is up for letting Shaun stay over with Duncan..hm? You know, just to get a head start..” to this, the ex-paladin’s adorable blush deepened tenfold.

Fantastic....or rather...outstanding.

#so this was no small drabble #ayyyyy #I love him so much #fallout 4 #fallout #paladin danse #paladin danse x sosu #paladin danse x reader #Danse

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bush-viper-cutie · 3 years

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Chapter One: The New House

Pairing: Snape x OC

Word Count: 2,472

Rating: E

Plot: Severus, forced to live with his parents once again, moves into a new house with them… except the house itself isn’t new. Its old, very old indeed.

Warnings: none

A/N: Snapetober! I will be posting chapters often to this slice-of-life gothic slow-burn romance I have in my head :D Not following any prompts but I hope the general atmosphere of these chapters are spooky? Mixed with some gothic… maybe some supernatural elements ahead ;) Enjoy :D

Posted: 10/1/21

Chapter List

Next Chapter –>

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~*~*~ = time skip

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Severus Snape hated his life. His parents were awful, his family had no money, no support from anyone, and everyone he'd ever known hated him. The majority of his 20 years of life had been like that, except for a small bit of it where it wasn't, where it had been alright. For a few quick years, he had one friend who understood him, although it was now as he sat in the backseat of his father's car, looking up at the clouds, that he wondered if she ever did.

The clouds coated the sky, covering every sliver of sunshine with thick grey. No light broke through and as a result, everything looked as miserable as his life felt. The droning of the car engine and tires on concrete grated his ears as he tried for peace of mind.

His father's suitcase - sandwiched above Severus' trunk and his mother's large bag - dug into his side, poking at him deeper with every turn the car took. They'd been driving for almost an hour but he knew they weren't even close to their destination; they were still inside the city, still inside its limits. He didn't need to know where they were going, even if he'd like to, he knew his father couldn't afford to move to any city nor any country home close by.

His mother sat quietly in the passenger seat, watching classy houses with nice, white picket fences and short little rose hedges pass by as they drove. She looked away from the window when they stopped at lights or when his father needed to look at the map for directions; Severus suspected she didn't want to know if any of the four-member families out on their daily evening walk around their block looked in to see who owned the beat-up little pile of scrap metal driving by their house.

He didn't care though. He hardly cared about anything lately. The last time he could remember caring was the scroll parchment he'd received for graduating Hogwarts. That was all he'd wanted for two years. After he'd lost his only friend - his only best friend - he focused on school and school alone. He thought everything about his life would change the second he got hold of that certificate. For a few long days it had felt like a first-place trophy, but it wasn't. It was what it was: A certificate, of completion, of participation. Nothing more.

Maybe he could have been something. If he'd gotten a job, saved up while living with his parents, and finally moved out, leaving them behind forever... But he didn't do that. He spent two years wasting time meddling in a bigoted cult working, selling potions for scrap. Hardly making enough to stay off the streets pretending like it was better than living at home just because the new sinking ship he'd found himself in was with his friends. Maybe eventually he could have made it work if it hadn't been for the Aurors who busted their small section of Death Eaters dedicated to making money selling illegal potions.

He supposed they threw themselves a party, thinking themselves big-shots, catching a handful of young adults making money out the back of a shady pub. He remembered the headline in the Daily Prophet: "Fourteen Death Eaters caught and awaiting sentencing". He supposed his mother thought herself a saint now too, bailing him out, saving him from days of "possible abuse" as if it were any worse than the prison he'd lived in all his life.

At first, he couldn't figure why - not for the life of him - she'd even care what happened to him. He wasn't a child and he wasn't her problem anymore. He knew she derived some sick pleasure knowing he not only owed his existence to her but now his freedom as well... and then it all came out. They bought a new house and it wasn't built to be kept up by two people, hell not even three but he was sure his extra pair of hands would come very handy to them.

They didn't even need to pay him. Not only was he their child, but that bail money was something he couldn't even attempt at paying back, and not because it had been a lot. She'd paid it in wizarding money left over from her witch days and she knew his wand had been broken as part of his sentencing. He'd have to beg some stuck-up department deep in the government for a wand permit which cost money. Then he'd have to buy himself a new wand, then work to pay her back all while "bumming" it at home while his father yelled about getting a "real job", one that didn't involve "devil magic" in the "devil society" that was the wizarding world. And he was sure he wouldn't be able to show up for work with a bruised eye or swollen jaw, even if by some miracle his employer could look past his new criminal record.

He held in a wince as the car turned again and the top luggage fell onto his head. He was back to old habits trying to pretend he didn't exist.

"Hey," Tobias said, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "Fix that."

Without a word, Severus shoved the luggage back onto the pile behind the driver's seat and sat back. They were on the outskirts of society now. The scenery had turned to country, and the smog of the city had cleared, though the skies were still dark.

His father stopped for a few moments and refolded the map on his lap. His mother carried on watching the world outside, unresponsive to either of them or the happenings inside the car.

"What's that say," Tobias handed Severus the map and lit a cigarette while he waited, not bothering to open the window.

Severus brought the map up to his eyes and squinted. His eyesight was poor and worsened by the approaching dark. "S-starts with 'c'..."

"S'got a double 't' or 'h'?"

"'H'." Severus handed it back and Tobias started driving again. He took several turns and headed onto a rougher road.

Within minutes the tame country became wild and morphed into a long stretch of woods. For the first few minutes, he hadn't even noticed despite being completely focused on the environment that passed them, like his mother still was. The first few trees seemed to go on, and just when he thought they'd clear them and continue driving past open fields, the trees persisted until he realized they were deep inside a forest now.

A few more minutes passed and they finally did exit the forest into a wide field of dead chopped trees cleared to the side on either edge of the steep hill the car was climbing. Severus sat up finally, hearing his spine crack and snap into place after being hunched over for the better part of the day. He liked the colorful mushrooms and bright green moss growing on the black logs of the discarded trees.

"Here," Tobias grumbled, rolling down the window. He flicked his cigarette butt and rolled it back up.

Severus sat forward and looked out the windshield up at the house they were approaching. It was large and clearly abandoned, probably for a good decade. The shingles were covered in dead leaves, the paint was chipping, the windows were gray and smeared with dirt likely blown during wind storms. The porch was missing a step and the columns holding up the covering were slanted. It was more yellow at the top and browner at the bottom - rot on the foundation most likely.

He slumped back in his seat. At least, if it turned out horrible, if it came down the second they stepped inside, or the walls melted from mold before their eyes, their old home was still waiting for them, the cursed thing. Almost all houses back home on Spinners End were abandoned. No one to sell to, no one to buy decrepit eyesores in the shadow of rundown factories. But at least he still had the option if it all went wrong.

~*~*~

Severus stuffed his suitcase into the closet, kicked it in, and shut the door. Unpacking could wait. He turned around and looked at his room as a whole. It was small, located up the stairs in a corner. It had a slanted roof which was odd, considering there was a third floor above him. It would do though, it was on the opposite side of the house as his parent's room, so it would certainly do quite nicely.

He moved to the window and looked out to watch the mist settle below. His father was gone to town to purchase things they'd need: a lighter apparently for the fireplaces since this house was built before furnaces and never renovated. He felt like a poor house servant to a rich Lord, but it was better than feeling like a roach in his old home. They needed coal too, or maybe wood, whatever old metal kitchen stoves and ovens used.

Severus walked out of his room to look down the hall again. It was a larger house than he was used to - it practically felt like a palace - and was sure it would take a few days to memorize how to find the correct corridor places. It wasn't Like Hogwarts, which typically took several years to memorize the right paths.

He walked down the opposite way he came and observed the way the dust clung to the walls giving the blue wallpaper a very muted look. The original owners liked their colors, practically every room had a different color to it. Corridors were blue, bedrooms green, dining room orange, library red, kitchen white, bathrooms pink... At least none of the colors were very offensive to the eyes, even without the dust they were all very muted and earthy.

He had explored the bottom floor, the second floor had all the bedrooms, and the third-floor stairs must be around somewhere, hidden. As he walked a new corridor he noticed there were spaces on the wall which had, at one time or another, held frames or mirrors but they were long gone. He turned the corner to a long hallway with very tall windows on one side. He could see the mist again and possibly behind it was more to the forest surrounding the house. He mentally noted which turn brought him to the back wall of the house. He walked on and at the center were the stairs to the third floor tucked into a gap in the wall opposite the windows.

The handrails were covered in dust and between the wood pillars were cobwebs that swayed as he crept up. There was an open floor filled with ghostly sheet-covered furniture. A chandelier holding half-used candles lay on the floor with a long chain still connected to the ceiling. Its crystals refracted light from the large windows on either side of the room.

He sat on a couch - not bothering with the cloth - and sighed. Eventually, they'd put him up to getting all this old stuff down so that his father could sell it, although, they'd already been inside once before and said they couldn't find the stairs to this floor - or large room.

He got up and walked back down the stairs peering into the small crevice between the handrail and wall. When he reached the bottom step he noticed the indent on the edge of the left-hand wall and pulled on it. A little ring popped out and when he pulled on that, the wall rolled out. No, it was a door. He pulled it further and closed it behind him. He stepped back against the windows. The wallpaper blended seamlessly and would have been hard for him to tell that it was a door at all. He pressed the blue-colored ring back against the wall and walked back to his room.

~*~*~

Severus heard a car door slam and sat up in bed. His father was finally back with the supplies to hopefully get dinner started. His nap must have been a few hours because the sun had already dipped below the tree lines.

"Severus," his father called out to him, his echoes from one side of the house bounced off every wall to reach Severus' ears. "Now."

He swung his legs over the bed and left his room, stumbling down the dark hallway towards the front of the house. He stopped at the foot of the stairs looking down. His father was smoking again and had dropped several grocery bags on the floor. He blew the smoke out of his mouth and looked up at Severus, then motioned for the bags and pointed in the general direction of the kitchen.

Severus obeyed and carried them in, placing them on the counter - which had been dusted - and started taking out the contents. The only modern appliance in the house was the fridge, tall silver and brand new; it must have been the real major cost of the house.

His father had bought a large head of cabbage and a pack of sausages. There were matches but no coal which means they might be having cold soup for dinner again. He put everything away and came back to stand at the door.

He stepped aside as Tobias entered the house again. Severus thought about stepping out and walking around for a bit, not wanting to be in the same house as his parents, but felt the distance between his room and theirs was enough for today.

He turned to the stairs and saw his mother holding the banister looking down at him.

"Tomorrow there'll be a list of chores for you in the kitchen," she said. Her stiff voice echoed throughout the house and she kept her eyes on him waiting for a response.

He gave none and she left, unbothered. It was the way of their relationship. She'd ignore everything he said, and he'd do the same. He walked up the stairs, hearing how they creaked and groaned under his weight, echoing off walls and resonating down the hall. He headed to his room and closed the door. It was only around nine, fully dark, but he was done with the day. Dinner wasn't worth facing them and staying awake any longer wasn't worth the boredom and loneliness.

He took his pillow out of his trunk and fell onto the bed, almost disappointed it didn't break and send any amount of adrenaline or chemical of any kind to his brain. He moved his pillow, slid his arm under it, and closed his eyes.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

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ilovemesomekillianjones · 3 years

Text

In the Still of the Night

Here is my contribution for the Captain Swan Neverland New Year event! You guys, I am so excited to be writing again!!!! Thank you @xhookswenchx for beta reading this baby for me. Kudos to the mods of @neverlandnewyear for thinking up and putting together this treasure that is Captain Swan in Neverland. Tag list at the end, please let me know if you ever want to be removed or added.

Summary: Set after Henry is safe (no Pan switch) but before the gang is able to leave Neverland. When Emma is woken in the still of the night, from dreams of a devilishly handsome pirate captain, she decides she needs a midnight swim to cool off. In which Hook and a daringly open Emma have a meeting of the mind, body, and soul.

Rated M 8K ao3 ffnet Story under the cut, promise

It was the middle of the night when Emma woke, a sweltering, sweaty mess. “Why is this island so fucking hot,” she muttered into the darkness. Having a lascivious dream about Hook had absolutely naught to do with her elevated temperature, it was undoubtedly this goddamn jungle. Now that Pan had been conquered, and Henry was safe, Emma found she was having an increasingly difficult time keeping the smoldering, blue-eyed pirate off of her mind. She needed to get back to Storybrooke, back to some semblance of normalcy... or whatever. She silently cursed Gold for not having found a way to get her father home safely yet.

Ripping the covers from her body, she got up from her bunk below Henry’s and checked on him. Seeing that he was sound asleep, she headed topside. The deck of the Jolly Roger was blessedly deserted. Emma leaned against the railing, looking toward the vast jungle that was Neverland and she shuddered despite the hot, humid air that surrounded her. The shudder wasn’t due to the jungle itself. Since they’d defeated Pan, Hook had shown the group many of the island’s hidden beauties. He had stories for every spot he showed them, some hilarious, some melancholy, some quite ordinary, and others downright terrifying. There were quaint trails, refreshing springs and ponds, fascinating wildlife and vibrant plant life. It was actually quite a dream destination when a maniacal man-boy wasn’t playing psycho.

No, it wasn’t the jungle causing that shudder. She couldn’t get that goddamn kiss off her mind. Emma bit her lip as she reminisced about the way his lips had caressed hers, the way his tongue had slipped into her mouth hungrily but also tenderly. A one-time thing, she’d told Hook. Now if she could just maintain that lie, because that’s what it had been. She really needed Gold to find a way to magic David’s health back so they could get off this god forsaken island already.

She decided that the time for sleep was past, she was wide awake now, with thoughts of that damn pirate. A midnight dip would be ideal, especially while everyone was asleep. Emma left the Jolly Roger and headed toward the secluded pond that Hook had shown them. Once they’d no longer had to worry about being attacked, they’d created a regular schedule for bathing, so everyone had their own time. Luckily, no one’s time was right now.

Traversing quietly through the jungle, Emma admired the beauty around her. The greenery was lush, the effulgent dew made it seem more alive than any plants she’d ever been around. The blossoms surrounding the path were some of the largest she’d ever seen - they were dazzling pinks and oranges. She wondered if she had missed all this in her haste, fatigue, and desperation while finding Henry, or if the jungle had only come to life since the man-child was no more.

She followed the trail Hook had shown them, until she came upon the pond that was shrouded below an overhang at the base of what Hook had referred to as Dead Man’s Peak. The name hadn’t initially inspired comfort in the group, but when David explained to them that the water at the top of the peak was what had cured him, their perspectives changed. Emma swore there must be some restorative properties here at the base because she always felt rejuvenated when emerging from the water.

Stripping as soon as she broke the tree line, she discarded her clothes beneath a tree along the sandy shoreline. Her flesh pebbled as it met the open air, and she felt a freeness as she walked to the water’s edge. She dipped her toes in tentatively, knowing the water would be agreeable as always. Emma was immersed thigh deep before diving down below the surface and swimming toward the middle.

The water sluiced around her body soothingly while she held her breath as long as she could, before breaking the surface. Emma pushed her hair back then ran her hands over her face before opening her eyes. She enjoyed this spot, a sandbar of sorts, deep enough to cover her body, shallow enough that she could still reach, and far enough from all surrounding shore should anyone happen upon her.

The silence that enveloped her was serene and she looked up at the star filled sky. A shooting star floated across the heavens, but just as Emma was about to make a wish, the water beside her opened up as something emerged. The scream that started to bubble up from deep within her, as a hundred thoughts filled her mind on what unimaginable Never-beast this could be, was cut off by a voice she was not expecting to hear.

“Evening Swan!”

“Jesus Christ, Hook!” Emma gasped. Thank god she was in shoulder deep water. “Wait, did you… were you watching when I… you know,” she asked while motioning toward her body.

“Did I what?” Hook asked, genuine confusion furrowing his brow.

“Did you see me undressing?”

“You wound me, Swan… I would never!”

“Oh, tonight you’re the gentleman?”

“I told you, I am always a gentleman,” he claimed in a rich tone as he took a step closer to her. “Spying on a lady as she undresses would be unthinkably bad form.”

“Then where the hell were you?”

“I was underwater.”

“For the whole time?” she asked disbelievingly.

“Aye. I’m a pirate, love, when you live a life on the water, it’s best you be able to hold your breath for longer than the average landlubber. Never know when you might find yourself keelhauled.”

“Landlubber,” Emma scoffed, “I can hold my breath just fine.”

“I’ve no doubt you can, just not as long as meself,” he smirked.

Emma narrowed her eyes at the challenge in his tone. What was it about this man that had her wanting to comply with his every whim? She’d held her breath for as long as she could when she dove into the water, if he’d been under from the time she’d stripped until he popped up to interrupt her wish, that had to be like two full minutes? No way, she thought, he must have come up for air while she was under.

“Bet I can,” she challenged back.

“Is that so?” Hook asked, crowding her a little more, eyebrow cocked in interest. “And just what are the terms of this bet?”

If ever asked under oath, Emma would swear his eyebrows spoke a language all their own. “If I win, I get the Captain’s quarters,” Emma replied, crossing her arms over her chest smugly - as if she’d already won.

“I told you before, Swan, you and the lad should have my quarters.”

“I don’t want it given to me, I want to take it from you.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “such a stubborn lass. And if I win?”

“You tell me,” Emma said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Hmmmm,” he hummed, as the tip of his tongue swept along his bottom lip. “How about…” he continued, tapping his pointer finger to his lips.

Emma leaned toward him with anticipation as he pondered the terms to set.

“I get to ask you any question I want.”

“Seriously?” Emma sputtered, head tilting to the side, it was rhetorical at best, not an actual question. “You’re taking this gentleman schtick a little over the top. I thought you’d want me to flash my tits or another kiss?”

“I told you, love, I am always a gentleman, and as such, I would never want to take a kiss from you in victory, I want it given to me, willingly. I want you to want it as much as I do.”

Emma blushed as he spoke, damn him for being a chivalrous pirate. “Whatever,” Emma muttered, “I’m winning this bet anyway.”

“So, we have an accord?” he questioned, holding out his hand for her to shake.

“Deal,” Emma said, shaking his hand. “How will we know no one cheated?”

“I do have a code, Swan,” Hook scoffed, “pillaging and plundering, yes; swashbuckling, yes; swindling beautiful maidens, never.” He held his hand over his heart as if he were making a pledge.

Emma smiled at the actual drama queen standing before her, laughing lightly, it felt good. “Okay, so how are we doing this thing?” Hook held up his hand like he was about to take an actual oath, and Emma was half inclined to high-five him, though she was sure that was not his intent.

“Take my hand then,” he prompted, nodding his head toward his hand. Once her fingers were laced with his, he explained that he would count to three and they’d both submerge to the bottom, first one up was the loser, and the winner would know, because the loser would release the winner’s hand to reach the surface for air.

On three they submerged, and Emma could not see a thing. Hook was inches from her, and the only indication was his hand in hers. Feeling the comfort of his grasp in the eerily dark abyss, she pondered over the fact that she’d interlocked their fingers, instead of just holding hands palm in palm. She really needed off this island, she couldn’t be falling for him. Life was too hard for a relationship. Or was it really too hard, the rarely heard from, softer side of Emma Swan’s mind butted in. It could be so easy, this voice told her.

When Hook had told her that he would win her heart without any trickery, Emma’s heart had beat a little stronger just for him, she’d wanted to pull him into her arms to make out right there. Alas, there had still been the issue of her beloved child to save.

Would it really be so bad to let Hook try to win her heart though? He truly was a gentleman, a pirate scoundrel sometimes too, but it was part of his charm. Plus, her lie detector said that everything he’d told her regarding how he felt about her, about what the kiss exposed, it was all true.

Emma’s mind wandered back to Storybrooke, to what it might be like to have someone who understood her, someone who was like her, to spend time with. The squeeze he gave her hand at that moment had her picturing what it might be like to walk through town with him, hand in hand. Was that even something she could still do, be that vulnerable, for the world to see her care for a man? She’d been on her own for so long, independent; free from any man who could hold her heart with the possibility of crushing it.

Suddenly she felt dizzy, head spinning and heart pounding loudly in her ears. Had she held her breath too long, or were her outlandish imaginings too much for her stoic heart? Releasing Hook’s hand, Emma rose to the surface and gulped in the air. Pushing water and hair from her face, she panted deeply. She wondered how long they’d been down there already as Hook continued his underwater mission. Leave it to him to not only win, but really show her up.

A full minute later, Emma began to worry. Unless she’d been down there an inordinately short amount of time, he’d been under for at least two and a half minutes. Was that even possible? Had he passed out in his endeavor to “best her”? She started to actually worry for his health when another thirty seconds passed.

“Goddammit Hook, where are you?” she muttered.

“Miss me, love?”

“Oh, goddammit!” she yelled as she flailed so hard, she was pretty sure she’d just flashed her breasts unwittingly. The bastard wasn’t even out of breath when he popped up right in front of her. “Stop doing that,” she laughed as she pushed his chest. “Why’d you stay down so long, you big showoff?”

“On the contrary, I could feel you thinking down there, the amount of body language just in your hand told me you were contemplating some things. I merely wished to give you enough time to escape, should this game have become too much for you.”

“Escape?” she scoffed.

“Now, now, Swan - we both know of your affinity to run,” he said lightly, no accusations or contempt in his voice.

“Says the pirate who sailed away when asked to be a part of something,” Emma retorted.

“I came back, didn’t I?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow. “You, on the other hand, left me to be eaten by a giant atop that beanstalk.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she laughed. “I made a deal with Anton to release you after ten hours, I just needed a head start, in case you…” Emma’s voice lowered to a whisper, not wanting to voice her early assumptions about his motives and intentions.

“In case I betrayed you,” Hook finished.

“Sorry,” she whispered, looking straight into his eyes, imploring him to believe the sincerity of her words. Although she’d had her reasons at the time, it didn’t make her feel less terrible now.

“Long forgiven, milady,” he whispered in turn. Then, in the next breath, he was back to the cocky pirate she knew. “Now, I do believe I won, and per our accord, you owe me the fee of one truth.”

“Congratulations,” Emma offered, extending her hand to shake, “you won, fair and square.” No trickery, she thought. Then she crossed her arms over her chest, which was still underwater, so it didn’t make her look menacing at all as she jutted out her chin and raised both eyebrows in a silent challenge to do his worst.

“Why thank you, Swan. Hmmm, what shall I ask you?” he spoke, as if pondering his many choices. “There are truly so many things I wish to learn about you, I want to know everything, really.”

Emma’s eyebrows lowered as a shy smile crept over her face. It was stupid, she knew, but having this man before her, admit that he wants to know everything about her made her feel… cherished, adored, wanted. It was a foreign feeling after so many years of being alone. “Well, you only get one free question,” she said, trying to deflect the saccharine sweet feelings he was stirring within her.

"Pity, that, but I do remember the terms of our agreement. I do have one question picked out that I simply must know the answer to, before I endeavor to learn more. Fair warning, I may not have an Emma Swan internal lie detector,” he said as he leaned in closer to her, “but as I told you before, you are a bit of an open book, so I’ll know if you’re twisting the truth.”

“I would never,” Emma objected dramatically, holding a hand over her heart as he had so often done when feigning injury to his pride.

“Good,” he replied, taking a step even closer. “Then tell me, love, when you said our kiss was a one time thing, did you mean it? And if you did mean it when you said it, do you feel the same now?”

His close proximity was making her feel a little less confident than the facade she was putting on, but Emma didn’t break the heady eye contact he’d made, a beautiful shade of blue, looking into her, reading her. And how was the kohl that rimmed his eyes unaffected by the water? She might have to pillage some of that from him, it put her realm’s cosmetics to shame. God he was gorgeous as the moonlight shined down on them, she’d never noticed the hint of red to the scruff along his sharp jawline. “That’s two questions,” she murmured breathily as she thought of nibbling along that jawline.

“Shall I rephrase?”

“Oh, the hell with it, I never meant it,” she confessed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her bare chest against his and kissing him soundly.

As their lips collided hungrily, over and over, Emma was pretty sure she heard Hook mumbling thanks to the gods. She felt a little of that same relief, as she finally admitted that denying herself this thing that she wanted was ridiculous now that everyone was safe. Running her fingers through his thick hair, she gave it a little tug, angling his head so she could deepen the kiss. The groan he elicited was sinful and it kind of made Emma want to rub herself all over him.

Instead she ran her other hand over his chest, deciding to take her time, she’d wanted to feel that chest hair since the first time she’d seen it proudly on display. It wasn’t quite what she expected since they were both wet and it was matted to his chest. She smirked when he jumped, his hand tightening involuntarily in her hair as she ran a thumb over his nipple.

“A little sensitive, Captain?” she teased, looking up at him through her long lashes.

“Aye,” Hook chuckled, “‘s been awhile.”

It’d been a long dry spell for her as well. And it’d been even longer since feeling any true emotion when with a man. It had merely been scratching an itch for so long that she was a little scared what this all meant. The tingling, unadulterated want she felt in every nerve of her body far outweighed the fear though. “Touch me,” she whispered as she wrapped both arms around his waist.

“Bloody Hell, you’ll be the death of me, woman,” he muttered as he kissed her once more. He wrapped his good arm around her and pulled her in close. Trailing a path from her mouth to her ear, he bit gently on her lobe, and it was his turn to smirk as a shiver ran through Emma’s entire body. “Would you be opposed to taking this back on land?”

“We just got clean, I don’t want sand in every crack and crevice,” she giggled while wrinkling her nose.

“Aye, that would be less than optimal,” Hook agreed, “though the place I have in mind won’t get your nether regions sandy.”

“What’s wrong with right here, right now?” Emma challenged. She was pulled up short when Hook’s cheeks went pink and he scratched behind his ear as he did so often when he was feeling slightly unsure of himself. Truth be told, Emma found it cute, although she’d never tell him that, she doubted the fearsome pirate captain wanted cute to be correlated to his reputation.

“It’s just, I’d rather…”

Brushing the hair from his forehead, Emma smoothed her thumb over the worry line that creased his brow. “What’s wrong?” she asked. When he made no attempt to answer, Emma decided to employ his own tactics against him. “Try something new, Hook. It’s called trust.”

Emma internally cheered as one of Hook’s mega watt smiles overtook his face. The smile that showed those adorable (another word she was sure he would not want associated with him) dimples, and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Touché lass,” he conceded, “I’d rather be able to have use of all my appendages.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, gazing very obviously in the direction of his most manly appendage. “Ummm, it felt like it was working just fine to me.”

“Christ, Swan,” he chuckled, “I assure you, everything is ready, willing, and able in that department. I’d like my hook.”

Emma’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she thought, not for the first time, about what that hook would feel like against her heated skin.

“It’s okay, love, if it repulses you, I can just wear the brace without the hook.”

Emma shook her head, a frown downturning her brows and her lips, “Stop-”

“But I assure you,” Hook continued without letting Emma speak, “if the hook repulses you, the wound will surely-”

Emma’s hand over his mouth was more effective in shutting him up. “Stop it,” she demanded, “right now.”

Hook was a little taken aback by being commanded by the fiery version of Emma, he’d seen her fiery side before, and he liked it, he liked every part of her. He wasn’t taken aback by her fire, rather he wasn’t used to being bossed around. He was the boss. But as he stood there, with her hand over his mouth, he realized he’d follow her orders any day.

“Do you think I’m unaware that you don’t have a left hand?”

Hook shook his head in the negative, since her hand was still covering his mouth.

“Do you think I’m so shallow as to be repulsed by your hook or your brace or your wound?”

Hook took longer to answer this time, contemplating what he’d said and what she was asking. He supposed his words may have left room for misinterpretation. Slowly shaking his head no again, Emma removed her hand from his mouth.

“Good,” she stated simply, reaching for his left wrist before he even realized she'd made a move.

His head spun when he felt Emma’s touch upon his scarred flesh and his knee-jerk reaction was to pull away from her grasp. He struggled to find the words through the haze. “It was not my intent to imply you are shallow, Emma. It is my own reticence.”

“Trust me,” she whispered as she took his left wrist again. Wrapping both of her hands around his forearm and blunt wrist. Emma repeated the words comfortingly as she placed the arm he was so ashamed of between her breasts and held it there, where he could feel her heart beating.

“Your hook, your brace, or just this,” she squeezed his wrist, “has no bearing on how I feel about you. I care about you, Hook.” Her voice sounded shaky, even in her own ears. “You came back for me, you helped save my son, you make me feel wanted, you make me feel good about being me.” Removing one hand from his damaged skin, Emma wrapped it around the back of his neck and pulled his forehead to hers before closing her eyes and continuing. “I’m not ready for this part, and I apologize, because that is my hang up.”

“Hang up?” he questions.

“A simpleton’s way of saying reticence,” she answers with a small smile before continuing. “I hate words, they make things real, and messy, and although I mean everything I’m saying, that’s all I can handle right now. Please just…” she inhaled sharply as she tried to articulate her plea to let this be enough.

“I understand,” he whispered, voice just as shaky as Emma’s. He placed his hand on her cheek, lovingly caressing the softness of her lower lip. “And I do trust you, love.” He pecked her lips once before continuing. “I know you don’t like words, that much was clear from the start,” he said with a knowing smile and another peck to her lips, “but I’d like to respond, if you’re amenable?”

Emma nodded her head, eyes still closed, still reeling from her own confessions.

Hook kissed her gently again before prodding her to open her eyes. “I want you to see the truth of my words.”

Emma inhaled deeply, then opened her eyes to look at him. She bit her lip, a nervous habit from her teen years, as she waited for his words.

“I want to be the one to bite this lip,” Hook growled, as he used his thumb to massage her lip from her teeth.

“Truth,” Emma giggled despite herself, nodding to let him know her lie detector was working.

Hook waggled his eyebrows and smirked at her, before resuming his more resolute demeanor. “I have never felt more naturally drawn to a woman than I do with you. Your fire and passion brought my dormant heart back to life, and for the first time in decades upon decades, I want to be a better version of myself, a version that has been long forgotten, the old Killian Jones who was an honorable man, with good intentions, and hope in his heart, not revenge.”

“You may have lost your way for a time, but you’re still an honorable man, Killian.”

“Gods above,” Hook murmured as he wrapped both arms around Emma and pulled her into nothing more than a loving embrace. He was in love with her, but now was not the time. Emma would undoubtedly run if any grand declarations were made. He hadn’t felt this vulnerable maybe ever and he longed to hear her call him by his given name again.

“Emma? Hook?! What the hell?”

Emma froze in Hook’s embrace as the familiar, and annoying, and currently very judgmental voice sounded from the shore.

“Bollocks,” Hook cursed. “How shall we handle this, darling?”

“Can we just pretend he’s not there,” she deadpanned, face still buried in her neck, trying to keep reality at bay.

“Somehow I doubt that will work, but you are The Savior, you could give it a go.”

Emma sighed deeply before turning around in Hook’s arms, her back to his chest, so she could face their interloper. She placed her hands over his hand and wrist where they were wrapped around her waist. It was still dark as she faced Neal, so hopefully he wouldn’t see the eyeroll she’d just given him when she saw this silhouette of his hands on his hips like some outraged father.

“Good morning, Neal,” she called to the shore cheerfully. “I must have lost track of time, I didn’t realize it was already your shift for bathing.”

“It’s not,” he muttered, “it’s still the middle- not the fucking point,” he interrupted himself. “It’s not your shift either, what the hell are you doing out here?”

As much as Emma wanted to tell Neal that she and Hook were doing exactly what he assumed they were doing, she abstained. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she snapped.

“It is my business,” he snarled back, “we’re supposed to be here for Henry.”

“Don’t you dare!” Emma started, voice rising with rightfully earned indignation. “We came here to save Henry who is now safe and sound aboard the Jolly, but the reason we are here is because your deranged fiancée dragged him through a portal to sacrifice him to a madman.”

“So you’re just going to throw away any chance of rekindling what we had, of being a family with Henry; so you can get laid by a dirty pirate.”

Emma pulled Hook’s arms around her tighter, keeping him anchored to her when she felt him start to pull away. She didn’t need these two getting into it again.

“Oi! I bathe quite frequently, mate,” Hook quipped. “I was doing so when Swan and I happened upon each other.”

“Shut up, Hook,” Neal retorted.

“The one good thing that came from us, was Henry, but our relationship is long over. There is nothing to rekindle,” Emma sighed. She didn’t want to be mean, but she needed Neal to understand that she wanted nothing to do with him romantically. And she was not going to be lectured by the man who’d already blown up her life once. “Maybe one day, you and I can be friends for Henry’s sake, but that is the most we will ever be.”

“Ems, you don’t mean that. You’re under his thrall, it’s not real.”

Emma completely ignored the bait, choosing instead to stop this exchange in its tracks. “Hook and I are kind of busy,” she said with a lighthearted tone, while turning back around to face Hook. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she called over her shoulder, ”If there’s nothing else, we’ll see you later.”

“You mark my words Emma, when he abandons you after taking what he wants, you’re going to look back and regret this moment.”

“He’s stuck around through more shit than you ever did,” she called back, looking straight into Hook’s eyes.

Properly dismissed, Neal stormed off, muttering curses the whole way.

Emma dropped her head to Hook’s chest, exhaling with relief. “That felt good,” she said.

“Well done, lass, though I’ve yet to see you fail, so I am not surprised Baelfire is no match for you. But perhaps we should make our way back as well,” Hook suggested. “I do believe he will be stirring the pot, come morning. You may want to be there to head off the storm.”

“I don’t care if he goes back to tell everyone, it’s not like it’s a lie, and at least this way, they will know we’re safe, and not missing. With any luck, we’ll be left alone for a bit,” she purred.

“Are you sure your parents will approve of you spending time with a dirty, one-handed pirate with a drinking problem?”

Emma’s head jerked up and she eyed him scrutinously. “First, you need to get Pan and Neal out of your head. Second, the only person who gets to decide who I spend my time with, or how I spend it, is me. And third, how do you know I don’t want you to be dirty,” she teased as she took command of his mouth with her own.

Not giving him a chance to think further, Emma quickly kissed him again. She slid her tongue past his lips, rolling it against Hook’s, who was quick to reciprocate. She wrapped her lips around his tongue and sucked on it, eliciting one of the sexiest noises she’d ever heard. It was half growling and half begging for more. The buoyancy helped him to easily lift her and she instinctively surrounded his body with her legs.

Hook broke the kiss, in favor of exploration. His hot mouth trailed down Emma’s neck, licking here and nibbling there, never too rough, he didn’t wish to mark her, at least not where it would be visible. He palmed one of her breasts with his hand while running his thumb over her already pebbled peak. “Gods you are perfect,” he murmured before taking her other breast in his mouth and alternating between gently suckling and the graze of his teeth.

Emma moaned softly in pleasure and torment as Hook worked her up, her clit throbbed and she longed to feel his hand or his mouth between her legs. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she pulled his head back and gazed into his eyes, want and desire evident in her pupils which were blown wide and the way her tongue licked salaciously over her bottom lip before she bit down on it.

She unwrapped her legs from around Hook’s torso, in favor of standing again. Sliding her hands down his back, she squeezed his ass cheeks before pressing her body against his. “I want you,” she whispered when she felt his hardness against her stomach. Emma reached between them to wrap her hand around his thick length.

“Swan,” Hook choked out, pulling her hand gently away from his overly eager cock. “I really don’t want this to be over before it starts.”

Emma smiled knowingly, the very thought of making him come early amping up her need. “Okay, you lead,” she agreed.

“Come with me.” Hook led her toward the far end of the pond, which was actually far larger than she’d realized. They rounded a large looming rock which cloaked the entrance to a small cave by the shore.

“You just know all the secret spots, don’t you?”

“I discovered many hiding spots over the years I spent on this cursed island,” Hook acknowledged. “I usually walk to this side of the water’s edge to deposit all my belongings before bathing. One can never be too safe with the keeping of his hook.” Extending his hand to Emma, he led her out of the water and into the shelter.

They entered far enough to have a little privacy, but not so far as to be pitched in blackness. Hook pulled her over to a natural, rock-formed shelf. “Do you want a towel, milady? Perhaps my shirt?”

“I want you,” Emma growled, yanking on his hand and pulling him flush against her body and attacking his mouth again.

“Mmmm, as you wish,” he uttered between ardent kisses.

Emma whined when he broke away from her again, “Hook!”

“Patience, darling,” he teased. Then he quickly grabbed his jacket and his towel, laying first the jacket down on the cave floor, followed by the towel. “So you don’t get sand in every crack and crevice,” he advised with a mock bow.

Emma laughed at his naked bow before tackling him to the makeshift bed and straddling his hips. She wove the fingers of her left hand with his right, and wrapped her other hand around his wrist before pinning them above his head.

She didn’t miss the way he jumped when she embraced his wrist, a fleeting look of helplessness crossing over his face. She kissed him softly, tenderly, wanting to calm his nerves about his perceived flaw. When she felt his body relax against hers, she started to trail kisses across the line of his jaw before veering back up to his ear. “Has anyone ever told you, you are beyond gorgeous?” she whispered before sucking his earlobe into her mouth.

“I tell myself this all the time, but it does sound much lovelier on your luscious lips.”

“These lips?” Emma asked, sitting up just slightly and running her tongue along her bottom lip.

“Aye, the very ones,” Hook struggled to get out of her hold, as he tried leaning up to taste her lips.

Emma kept a firm hold on him though, enjoying this little bit of control. She could feel his cock against her ass, hard for her, twitching each time she nibbled and sucked at his skin. She continued to trail kisses downward, along his neck, across his pecs. His hips thrusted upwards when she bit down on his nipple and flicked her tongue over the sensitive flesh. “Patience,” she mimicked his earlier command.

Hook’s melodramatic exhale made her giggle as she scooted further down his body, gently rubbing her wet core along his cock. “Bloody hell!” Hook cursed while deftly flipping them over.

“Don’t you want to see what else these luscious lips can do?” she asked with a wicked grin.

“Gods above, I do. But I swear you will unman me the moment you wrap your lips around me.”

Emma smirked at him, eyes alight with lust.

“You little minx, you like that idea don’t you?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, a confession really, despite the ambiguity of the answer. She’d already resumed stroking him.

“Fuck,” Hook hissed at her touch. He was torn between his ego needing to pleasure her first and his baser instincts demanding he let her do her worst.

Emma watched Hook, saw him struggle with the decision, his eyes squeezing shut when she ran her thumb over his tip. Without waiting for his answer, Emma rolled them back over and licked from his base to his tip before sucking the head of his cock into her mouth while continuing to pump him.

Her clit ached as she reveled in the wrecked expression on his face, Hook was watching her every move, lip pinned between his teeth as he struggled to hold out. She knew he was close when his hand balled into a white knuckled fist on his stomach and she gently cupped his balls to massage them. The sound that left his mouth was positively feral as he came hard, warm and wet in her mouth.

She savored the moment, he hadn’t lasted long, and she’d been the one to do that to him. But that was all she had, a fleeting moment before she was being rolled to her back.

Hook held her in his blunted arm and dove in for a kiss, not caring at all that his taste was still on her tongue. He smiled against her lips when he felt her spreading her legs beneath him. “Eager, are we?” he asked between kisses.

“Don’t tease,” she panted into his mouth.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Hook slowly caressed his hand down her neck, stopping to play with her breasts for just a moment before continuing down to where he knew she was desperate to be touched. He parted her lips with two fingers and slid his middle finger into the warm wetness waiting for him. “Gods, Swan, you’re soaked.” His cock was already coming back to life as he thought about sliding into her wet heat.

Emma’s eyes rolled shut as Hook massaged her clit with her slippery wetness and any response she could’ve made was forgotten. Her mouth parted with an involuntary whimper when he switched it up, suddenly, but oh so easily slipping two fingers deep inside her. She contracted around his fingers, then pushed down, welcoming the penetration.

Hook fucked her with his fingers, circling his thumb over her clit, while watching her cheeks flush pink and her breasts bounce as she rode his hand. Longing to taste her, he repositioned himself between her legs, chuckling at her whine of protest when he had to stop for a moment.

“Oh fuck,” she panted when he resumed loving her clit, this time with his tongue. He alternated between licks and flicks and sucking. Emma’s head spun dizzily, she’d experienced oral sex, but apparently she had never experienced mind blowing oral sex. She threaded both hands into his hair and tried desperately not to be too rough. “Oh my god, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

Hook chose that moment to thrust his fingers back inside her and Emma was gone, she came harder than she ever had, warm and tingly and wet as Hook continued to thrust his fingers into her and suck on her clit. She saw stars or dots or something behind her eyelids and there was a rush of waves nearby, or maybe that was just the adrenaline coursing in her ears. The little aftershocks pulsing and throbbing in her clit were heavenly and oh my god, that was fucking amazing, she thought.

“Get up here,” she purred, pulling on his hair.

“It seems someone was just as primed as I was,” Hook smirked as he slid back up the length of her body.

Emma silenced his smugness by wrapping her legs around waist and flipping him to his back. The rush of air that left Hook’s chest made her chuckle as she placed her hands on his cheeks and whispered to him between kisses. “Well, you’re very, very skilled,” she praised.

“You set the bar very high, love.”

Emma beamed at his compliment, her cheeks warming. She wasn’t sure what it was about this man that made her feel unlike she’d ever felt with another man. Like she was special and desired, it made her feel sexually free in a way she never had. Sitting astride Hook’s solid body, she caressed her hands along his chest, exploring his now dry chest hair, it was just as thick and glorious as she’d imagined.

Emma could see the scars littering his flesh and she’d felt more when they’d been in the water and her hands had explored the expanse of his back. She wondered how rough his life had been to have this many physical scars. Her heart constricted a bit at that thought, especially already knowing he had just as many emotional scars as she did. She was both taken aback and a little frightened when she realized she wanted to know so much more about Hook. Maybe it was time to stop running from good things, Emma thought, her mind once again weighing the pros and cons of a relationship. Her train of thought was lewdly interrupted by a thrust of Hook’s hips, his hardness tapping at her back.

“Ready so soon, pirate,” she said in a husky tone while rising up on her knees and guiding him to her core. She ran the tip of his cock through her wet folds, both of them moaning with unadulterated lust.

“Fuck yes,” he growled, thrusting his hips upward again.

Emma cried out as his tip slipped inside her, a wave of arousal pooling and her belly tightening with want. She slid down his generous length, slowly savoring the drag against her slippery walls. She planted both hands on his chest and stilled her movements when he was fully seated, adjusting to his size.

“You alright, love?” Hook asked, squeezing her hip gently while he circled his thumb over her hip bone.

She nodded her head and opened her eyes, which she didn’t realize she’d shut, to gaze down at the gorgeous man below her. “You feel good,” she praised, lifting her hips and sinking back down on to him. Emma set a languid pace, delighting in the sensation of fucking, the drag along her walls, angling herself so he hit that spot.

“That’s it, lass, take what you want,” Hook encouraged as Emma rode him; slowly at first, then building in pace as her cheeks flushed and a light sheen of sweat broke out across her forehead. He wished, not for the first time tonight, to be able to touch her with two hands. He encouraged her to touch her breasts as he changed course to play with her clit.

Emma’s thighs began to burn as she worked to bring them both to that sweet edge of release, and the delicious friction between them built higher and higher. She palmed her breasts, tweaking her nipples and watched as Hook thumbed her clit in time with her thrusts. His hooded eyes roamed her body, and he bit down on his lip as he watched his cock disappear inside her heat over and over. She liked watching him watch her and the small grunts he gave each time she impaled herself and ground against him were hot. Emma found herself at the edge of bliss again and she whimpered as Hook began thrusting up into her.

Hook was having a hard time controlling his ardor, he wanted to flip them and plunge deeply into her. She was a vision, flushed pink, sweaty, breasts bouncing as she rode him to the edge. And then he heard her...

“Come with me, Killian,” she panted.

...and he was undone. The plea in her tone as she said his name and the massage of her walls against his cock as she began to come, ended him. He came hard and hot with a cry of her name, filling her with his seed until it began to spill as she continued to ride him through both of their releases.

As euphoria traveled throughout her body, Emma slumped into Hook’s body. She’d never felt so gratified as her entire being thrummed with bliss. Hook turned them to their sides and kissed her fervently. Wrapping both her arms around him, Emma gave as good as she got, their tongues and lips engaging lovingly. She lost track of all time as they lay together, parting only when they needed breath. “That was-”

Hook covered her mouth much as she had covered his earlier. “Don’t,” he whispered with a pleading look in his eyes.

Emma wrapped her fingers around his palm and removed his hand, giggling quietly. “I didn’t mean it the first time, and I damn sure wouldn’t mean it this time,” she assured him, noting how his shoulders sagged in relief. “I was going to say that was amazing… brilliant,” she murmured into his ear.

Hook chuckled, remembering the time he’d said those words to her. “Aye, Swan, we still make quite the team.”

Emma could only smile at the seamless harmony that flowed between them. And she kissed him once more before snuggling into him.

As a sated exhaustion made itself known in her body, Emma rejoiced that it was still dark outside of the cave. A vigorous yawn and stretch wracked her body, and Killian chuckled lightly again.

“Did I wear you out?”

Emma laughed as the same yawn tore through Hook, no sooner had he spoken his teasing words. “I think we wore each other out,” she snickered.

“Aye lass, I believe you’re right. How about we get washed up and head back to the Jolly? I’ll give you the captain’s quarters, even though you lost.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Brag much?”

“What is the fun in winning a wager if I cannot gloat?”

“Such a pirate,” she muttered before rolling him to his back again. “How about we share the captain’s quarters?”

“Deal,” Hook accepted without hesitation.

A half hour later, they were standing in the cave, bathed, and mostly dressed, Hook had gone to get Emma’s clothes for her from the opposite shoreline.

“Shall we?” Hook asked, offering Emma his hand. He frowned when she made no attempt to move.

“I’d rather…” she started, a blush coloring her cheeks.

“Ah, I understand,” Hook said, quickly understanding. “Shall we head back in separate directions? Or perhaps, I’ll just stay here for a bit and come back later in the morning.”

Emma rolled her eyes again, this time with a bit of frustration, as she placed her hands on her hips. “That is not what I was going to say.”

Hook raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for her to explain.

“Has nothing I’ve said tonight gotten through to you? Or did that mind blowing sex make you forget?” She took his heavier than expected leather duster from where he had it draped over his arm and turned around to lay it out on the cave floor.

Turning to face Hook again, she cupped his face in both hands. “Let’s recap, I like how you make me feel, I’m not worried about everyone finding out, best oral ever, sensational sex, no running away. I fancy you, Killian.” Emma finished her statement with a gentle kiss.

The gobsmacked look on Hook’s face made her laugh out loud. “I was going to say I’d rather spend the rest of the night here with you. We already know everyone else will know we’re safe. Even if Neal doesn’t outright blab; if Mary Margaret and David start to worry, he won’t hesitate to spill what he knows.”

“You fancy me, love?”

Despite heavily stroking his ego by admitting he was the best she’d ever been with, it figured the part he’d pick up on was the closest she’d get to any kind of outright confession of feelings. Emma smacked her hand to her forehead. “Yes, Killian, I fancy you. Don’t get all cocky about it.”

“On my honor, I’ll not get cocky,” he promised before leaning in to kiss her, “as I quite fancy you as well. But you already know that.”

Laying down on his jacket, the two snuggled together, Emma in panties and Hook’s shirt and Hook in his birthday suit.

“You needed to get naked again to go to sleep?” Emma asked with a little sarcasm in her tone.

“I’ll have you know that style and comfort do not go hand in hand, Swan. Those leathers, though appealing to the eye, do not make for great sleep clothes. Besides, all pirate’s know the only way to sleep when there’s a lovely lass in his bed, is in the nude. You know… easy access.”

“Why am I not surprised by that, Killian?”

“I’ll never tire of hearing you call me that,” he answered.

“Killian,” she whispered.

“Aye, love?”

“Nothing, I just wanted you to hear me say it again.”

A boyish smile broke out over Killian’s face as he pulled her in tighter to his side. “Good night, Swan.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

The End

Tagging some lovely shipmates - please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged - or if you’re reading and want me to tag you.

@laschatzi @qualitycoffeethings @hookedonapirate @wordsmith-storyweaver @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @wyntereyez @hooklineandswan @teamhook @let-it-raines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard @tiganasummertree@apromisednightcap @xemmaloveskillianx @elizabeethan @cocohook38 @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 @timeless-love-story @girl-in-a-tiny-box @thesschesthair @galadriel26 @ultraluckycatnd @lifeinahole27 @therooksshiningknight @kday426 @djlbg @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @lfh1226-linda @delightfully-difficult-pirate @thejollyswan @csalltheway @xarandomdreamx @vvbooklady1256 @withheartfulloflove @resident-of-storybrooke @mcakers @gingerchangeling @searchingwardrobes

#csnlny #cs fan fic #cs ff #captain swan #cs is my otp forever

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buckysgoldenheart · 3 years

Text

Unexpectedly Bitten

Vampire!Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Your ex gets into some trouble with Vampires, and his mistakes lead the bloodsuckers back to you. After seeing you, one vampire gets a little attached and he’s taking his time deciding what he plans to do with you, but whatever it is, you’re not afraid. In fact, you might just be a little attached to him too.

Warnings: cursing, smut, violence. (Count on spelling mistakes or repeating words too often. it’s very likely.)

Notes: Let me emphasize this: there is little rhyme or reason to the way this story is broken into parts. I did my best though, and I stuck to 7. I tried not to make each part too long.

This is a Vampire!Henry x Reader story where each chapter, while chronological, is a different conversation or event during the course of their evolving relationship.

Words: 1310

Part 3: Nighttime Activities

Henry ran into the kitchen the instant the yelp left your lips. The knife in your hand clanged to the floor, breaking the silence surrounding you, and thick red droplets were splashing on the metal of the blade when Henry grabbed your hand in his. You winced and looked up at him.

“What did you do!”

“I was just—”

“What did I tell you, huh? Either Chris or I will cook.”

“I didn’t mean to cut myself.”

“I’d hope not. Now let me see,” He said, slightly irritated as he ran a thumb over your blood-stained palm, careful to avoid the wounded forefinger. “You’re dripping blood all over the floor.”

When he saw the expression on your face, he sighed and rolled his eyes. “I won’t drink all of your precious blood, Lamb. Not unless you ask me to.” Examining the cut closely, he continued. “It’s not a scratch, that’s for sure.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Seal the cut.”

“How?” You tried to yank your hand back, but Henry gripped it firmly.

“Just trust me.” He stared into your eyes, as if he had the ability to bend you to his will.

You tentatively extended your finger to him and he wrapped lips around it, slowly sliding his tongue along the edges of the cut. It stung and your eyes snapped shut, but within a minute the pain subsided to a delicate, tingly heat that seemed to flow into your veins.

When he was done, he slid your finger from his mouth, licked the remaining drops of blood from your palm, and let you go. It was fully healed; only a little, pink scar remaining in its place. The new flesh shimmered dully, reflecting under the light of the kitchen as you angled your hand in different directions. It was beautiful. He’d taken something broken, and with the smallest amount of power, restored it past perfection.

You’d never heard of this, not in the rumors or stories. Then again, something good a vampire could do wouldn’t be found written anywhere. It was unknown and would clash with the ideas had of how horrid they are to humans; how they show them no mercy.

“I won’t deny it though, Lamb. You do taste delicious.” He smirked and you felt the violent blush rising from your chest to your cheeks. Your eyes traveled from his blue ones down to his lips, now coated in your blood, and you had to resist the urge to touch them and feel their plushness.

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

You huffed as you watched Chris flip through the pages of some dusty old tome with a bored expression on his face. He didn’t like this babysitting job, but according to the blond vampire, Henry had begged him to stay behind and watch over you while he went out into the night. You’d all but stomped your foot like a spoiled child when he refused to leave you unprotected despite how well you argued you could take care of yourself.

“This is ridiculous,” You mumbled.

“Yes, it is,” Chris sharply flipped a page, “But Henry seemed laughably desperate for my help.”

“Laughably desperate to make me feel incompetent.” You crossed your arms and slumped back further into the oversized armchair.

“Believe me, sweetness, it’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about?”

Chris looked up and closed the tome with a dusty slam. “Why don’t we play a little game to entertain ourselves, yea? How about we—”

“Do vampires love?”

Chris’s mouth closed fast, and his eyes narrowed at the question. “Now why would you ask something like that?” He asked, and you thought you saw, just for a half-second, a tiny quirk of his lips.

“I’m just curious.”

He hummed, unconvinced, then shoved the book away. “Love is complicated with us. It’s not…common.”

“Why?”

“It’s unusual for vampires to find more in one another than temporary companionship.”

“So, you don’t love.”

Chris chuckled at your ignorance. “We love, but rarely one another, in that way at least. Being a vampire can be a lonely life. Sex is one thing, but true connection is hard to come by.” You couldn’t ignore the twinge of sadness that made its way into his tone, but then it faded, and he said, “Now let me ask you something.”

You nodded.

“Was that blood-bag really your love?”

“At a time,” You said, “Why?”

Chris only shrugged.

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

It was the fifth time Henry had returned just before dawn with a sour mood that would undoubtedly last throughout the day. Usually you slept while he was gone, after you and Chris exhausted all your resources for any potential fun, but not last night. You stayed up, waiting for him out of irritation since he refused to tell you what he was doing, but you weren’t an idiot.

He met your eyes the minute he walked through the front door. The expression on his face did not change despite the obvious tense air circulating in the room, and he crossed his arms, matching your guarded stance.

“Are you making deals for bodies,” You asked. “Is that why you’ve been going out every night?”

He snorted at the clear beginning of a long lecture and slipped the leather jacket off his broad shoulders to toss on a nearby chair. “Don’t worry yourself over it,” He said, and went to walk past you, but you sidestepped, blocking his path the way a feather might a bulldozer. He cocked his head as if amused.

“I’m going to worry if I’m to end up in a group of women for some sacrifice.”

Oh, that made him mad. Everything in him took a sharp shift. His features twisted darkly, and his fangs peeked out. “Why the hell do you think I’m trying to make deals anyway, huh?” He began. “Chris and I need more if I’m not going to give you up. But half of you humans have grown stupid, and you can’t get anything done right! I ought to just start giving the deal makers to the Lord for fucks sake!”

Your eyebrows knitted and your arms dropped to your sides at his explosion. “Why are you so mad?”

“Why am I mad?” Henry all but growled in your face, then louder, said, “Do you think it’s easy to get bodies? If it were so simple then we’d get them ourselves, but your kind don’t go out after dark anymore, so I have no choice other than to make deals! I have to get more, and soon, otherwise you will be sacrificed to the Lord, is that what you want!”

He yelled the way a lion roared, with such ferocity it rustled your hair and threatened to shove you backwards.

“No, but—”

“But nothing!” He snapped. “Let me and Chris handle this. Just keep your nose out of it!”

He moved to slip around your body, but you once again sidestepped in his path, provoking his hefty groan. You placed a firm hand on his chest to make your intentions clear. He wasn’t going anywhere.

You looked at him sternly. “If word got out that you and Chris killed Jason, it’ll be a long while before anyone will be willing to accept any deal you try to make.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Then why did you kill him?”

“He fucked up! He didn’t finish the job!”

“He might have if you hadn’t killed him.”

With a step back, Henry scoffed. “Oh, so now you wish I spared that little pest for you? It’s not like he bartered your life or anything!”

“You didn’t have to let him die.”

“Yes, I did!”

“Why!”

Henry’s face fell at your shout, and he stared at you before shaking his head, then said, “For more than one reason, Lamb. None of which are your business, so let it go.”

---

Tags: @agniavateira @tumblenewby @forthebrokenheartedthings @summersong69 @starlite13 @mstgsmy @purplelove75 @defffcc @the-soot-sprite @kissthatlifeaway @atomicpaperhairdouniversity @aquariuslavenderhoney @harrysthiccthighss @the-problem-of-leisure @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair @readermia @angelofthorr @itmejado @caro-jean @raven-black102 @itty-bitty-dancer @grungeisntmything @wolfiepirate @scuzmonkie @heartfullofl @wanderlustkitkat @maan24 @furievonalexandria @posiemax @sweetybuzz25 @iamthetwickster

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miss-kittys-magical-library · 3 years

Text

You Are My Sunshine

From the MoonBrella Academy

Warnings: some angst and fluff A/N: Honey and Leon are left with the aftermath of Klaus's decision to tear apart another timeline by rescuing his infant self from the same childhood he endured at the hand's of The Monocle. Selina, though, couldn't be any more delighted.

Part 1 Sweet Child O Mine

Honey stood full of bewilderment in the middle of the living room. The flash of blue light temporarily blinded her making the 27 year old lose her bearings. She stumbled, caught herself and clutched the bundle to her chest out of instinct. It began to cry.

The young mother remembered herself then. In her daze, she had proffered a pinky finger to the infant. He accepted and sucked on it hungrily for only a few moments.

Honey knew in her very soul that the man from the portal, the man from outside the abortion clinic in 1968 and the man in the FBI posters from 1963 were one and the same. That he and this baby she cradled and Leon were identical but not. His name was Klaus. Nicklaus. Sunny. Their Sunny. He came from her. From Leon. WAS Leon. She saw that in his eyes. His cheeks. That all too brief gummy smile when Klaus had reluctantly handed the baby over.

Annoyed with only a finger to suck on, the baby started to wail. Not cry. A bone rattling scream that Honey never once heard from Selina. She stared at the little boy who had freed an arm to tug on his ear. He moved into a full-bodied tremble while his lip quivered.

“Shhh,” Honey cooed. She swayed back and forth to soothe the screaming child. “You know when Leon gets upset, his lip does that too?” She used her index finger to wiggle Sunny’s as a distraction.

He inhaled with a violent shudder. Wild green eyes locked with Honey’s before he cried at the top of his lungs once more. His eyes never leave hers except occasionally to gaze downwards over her chest. She knew Sunny was starving as the tears spilled down her own face. There weren't any bottles or formula or anything for him available. Selina never used one anyway. She went from the tit to the sippy cup.

Now he curled his little fingers around the muslin of Honey’s shirt. She cocked an eyebrow as he tugged trying to free her breast from its covering.

“Cheeky little pervert! You must be Leon?” she giggled and separated Sunny’s fingers from her shirt. The little boy screamed again this time louder. He yanked at her and wailed like a banshee. Honey covered her ear with one hand, “Jesus! You'll wake the dead!!”

Almost on cue, Sunny's tiny fist balled tight around Honey’s shirt began to glow. It shined a brilliant blue that matched the portal Klaus had stepped through. Because she wasn't offering her breast to him, the little one shoved his free hand into his mouth. It shone with the same light.

“What in Saint Jude?” Honey used her fingertip to spread his little fist open. She traced her nail along his now opened palm, fascinated. “This is beautiful..”

“Hey Gracie.”

There was a voice behind Honey. One she knew but hadn't heard. That thick Brooklyn accent. The scent of whiskey and cigarettes. The tears threatened to spill down her cheeks as she turned to look. To see her Uncle Lenny that she missed every day. That she longed to talk to about her life. But Sunny went back to his screaming, and Honey knew Lenny was gone.

“I CAN'T FEED YOU! I WASN'T PREGNANT WITH YOU SO I'M NOT EQUIPPED. PLEASE STOP CRYING! I'M SORRY HE TOOK YOU AWAY FROM A VERSION OF ME WHO COULD PROVIDE FOR YOU!”

Honey began to weep now. She felt helpless. Disconnected from the infant she rocked gently without thought. As if a tiny part of her brain that beat her down and told her she failed Selina. There was a reason the little girl preferred Leon to her. That Honey just wasn't good enough.

Now here she was unable to do the simplest thing, calm a crying infant. Her big fat tears poured onto Sunny’s face, and his crying ceased immediately. He blinked those indescribable eyes a few times before inhaling as deep as his little lungs could manage. She braced herself for another brain piercing howl. Instead he exhaled a coo wrapped up in a smile while staring directly in his new mother’s own eyes.

And there it started, a tether from Honey’s heart to the little boy’s. He tangled his fingers around her hair that brushed over his cheeks as she started to laugh. It trickled down to Sunny and through him. He responded with giggles that lit a fire in Honey’s chest. Quite literally.

Her breast and nipple felt like they were ablaze. She winced and gasped at the pain before taking one in her hand and held it tightly. The searing took her breath away before it spilled out on to her grip in the form of liquid. Honey's breast started leaking.

Without thought or hesitation she freed herself, finally, from her top. Sunny’s eyes became a bright green the moment he saw her offered breast and latched on. He sucked hungrily, little eyes rolling back in his head as he tightened his grip on Honey's hair. The baby opened and closed his fist as he ate. Honey hummed.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray,” she sang and swayed as if she were dancing with the baby. “You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away.” Honey bent to kiss Sunny’s forehead. He heaved one more great sigh and fell asleep.

The clock on their mantle struck 3pm, and Honey panicked. Selina’s dance class.

-------

Honey slipped past the other parents to the empty seat Leon had saved between himself and Tom and Ella. Her giant suede purse slung around her body more like a satchel. She sat down rather gingerly, greeted the Kidmans and let her long hair fall loose from under her beret. She smiled at her husband, all flushed cheeks and bright brown eyes.

From Leon’s angle as he kissed her hello it looked like a babydoll sticking out of her bag. Instead, to his shock, Honey carefully pulled a human baby from inside bundled up to its large eyes. Familiar ones that held Leon's gaze as she unzipped the little winter jacket that had been Selina’s.

Honey removed the tiny tossle cap. Underneath it was a baby boy (as beautiful as Selina) who released a satisfying coo. Then the little one turned to reach for Leon; to Honey’s dismay, he recoiled. She sniffed her displeasure while Sunny dove face first into her chest. Not for a breast, but simply a snuggle.

“The least you could do is hold him,” Honey’s tone was icy as she faced forward.

She caught her daughter’s eye from across the room and they waved at each other with enthusiasm. Selina pointed with sheer delight at the bundle in her mommy’s lap. Honey nodded and made the baby wave at his sister who bounced around in her tutu before the teacher took her hand and gently guided Selina back in line. Honey mouthed she was sorry.

"I'm just trying to figure out why my missus has got a baby that she wasn't pregnant with a few hours ago? Care to explain, love?”

Leon’s eyes were filled with worry as he looked at Honey. The tone of his voice was more tender than accusatory as he took one of her hands and squeezed it. Honey melted as she often did when it came to Leon's touch.

"A magical door opened up in our living room and that fake American cousin of yours, you know the one from the abortion,” she whispered this, “clinic?” Honey took a breath before continuing, “And I'm pretty sure he is our son from the future. He was in those FBI posters too. Back when we turned ourselves in. Anyways, he said his name was Klaus? Nicklaus. Nicklaus, Leon. He said well, this is ALSO our kid,” she presented the baby to Leon again, “from the future."

“I think you need to stop taking that blooming fertility concoction my mum and aunts made for you in Greece last summer. It's doing your head in because you sound like a bleeding nutter.”

"Leon, he’s our Sunny. Just like you predicted. You believed me then. I promise. Just hold him. Believe me again, please?” Honey pleaded with her husband.

“I quit drugs cold, and you've gone barmy. Then nicked some poor punter’s baby.” Anyone could tell Leon didn't even swallow one word spoken just now.

"First off, that concoction is cinnamon, honey, nettles and primrose oil. Nothing with drug properties. You're the one on maca, tribulus fruit and asparagus. Suck your own cock and see how it tastes." Honey stuck her chin out in defiance.

Tom choked on the cigar he was smoking. Meanwhile a knowing smile crossed Ella’s face. Her eyebrow raised in amusement at the direction this was headed. The Kostas couple were incredibly sexy when they argued. Honestly, they felt the same about each other.

"That's because you're not supposed to give me head, I'm supposed to put it in you. Remember that's how babies are made? Bloody hell.” Leon sighed and gave into his wife. He rolled his eyes and pursed his lips. Then he held out his arms, “Fine, just give him to me for cuddle”

Honey handed Sunny over to Leon who held him aloft. The baby had his fingers in his mouth. They glowed the softest hint of blue to the elder’s fascination. Then he let his little lips drop open to reveal mostly nothing but one lone tooth poking from the bottom gum. That tiny hand shot out to clench a fistful of Leon's goatee with an excited squeal.

Honey bit her bottom lip until she was certain it was going to bleed. A giant lump in her throat made it hard to swallow as she choked back tears willing Leon to get it. To see Nicklaus. Or Klaus. Or Sunny was theirs. She tightened her grip around forearm that she didn't realize had been in her grasp.

She wasn't a woman who prayed, not usually. To a Saint here and there, but quietly now she did. She wanted to convey to her husband that her body just couldn't get pregnant again naturally for whatever reason. Honey had started to bleed heavily before she left the apartment. Another miscarriage as the baby from the future sat wrapped up in Selina’s pink snowsuit. He was a gift just like Sugar no matter where he came from.

Leon studied this little boy. His nose, oddly curved like Leon's even though that was done much later in life. Those big, color changing eyes that moved in all shades of blues and greens in a matter of moments were also Leon's. It was like he held himself in his hands.

“Lovely little muppet.” Leon’s head swam. Sunny kicked his legs a bunch of times and contorted himself so he could suck on Leon's wrist. He let out a ragged breath just as the baby had done with Honey. “γεια, η μικρή μου ηλιοφάνεια,” Leon whispered. Hello my little sunshine.

There wasn't any part of Honey in Nicklaus, not the way there was in Selina. Her mummy’s attitude and defiance and brown eyes that took in the world and sought how to knock it down and start again. Leon shut down the part of his brain screaming REPLICA!

“That sadistic Monopoly man from the FBI or CIA did this, didn't he. Reginald Hargreeves.” Leon wasn't asking Honey, he was telling. He suddenly held Sunny close to his chest. His chin rested on the little boy’s head protectively. Leon kissed his curls as he had done a million times with Sugar and his wife.

She nodded because even her bones sang with revelation. They couldn't speak further because just then Selina burst into view along with the other little girls. She sprung into the air and onto Tom's lap, not her papa’s. He grunted then smiled in his Kidman way which was unnerving to the untrained eye. The little girl patted his cheek then kissed it. Ever one to tame the savage beast.

“Mommy baked me a baby!” she cried.

“She sure did, dollface.” He wouldn’t question a thing for the rest of his life.

Now she forsook Kidman to crawl across her mummy to gawk at the baby nestled into Leon's chest. “Hello, poppet. Papa calls me that.”

Sugar wedged her finger in Sunny's grip. They considered one another with fascination. Then Sunny screamed and giggled happily before putting her finger in his mouth.

Now Selina squealed with excitement and yanked it back. They played a game of offering and sucking for a few moments before the little girl declared that Sunny belonged to her. She stuck up her chin with a look of pride and contentment with herself. With the situation.

“He's my baby. Ok?” Neither Honey nor Leon would ever argue with that.

----

Winter of 1973

Honey sat cross-legged on the floor beside the Christmas tree. Her impossibly long hair hung over her shoulder and wrapped around Sunny who sat in her lap. He absently sucked on a thumb while his free hand flexed and twisted around his mother’s thick mane. Little hands flickered their occasional blue while Honey hummed a carol under her breath.

Leon was stationed in a large comfy chair, his one foot slung over the side. His foot wobbled anxiously. A handful of old journals and papers spread out over his lap. Books that had showed up one day without a messenger. Papers Tom had smuggled out of the CIA from insiders. All leading back to the nefarious billionaire with a monocle that studied the husband and wife and claimed if they paid him in return, they would get off scot free. Even keep the cash.

Selina danced around the tree. The lights reflected off of the dress Honey had fashioned, at Leon's insistance, from the gift she made just six years ago. It matched the tiny vest Sunny now wore as he bounced and wiggled rhythmically so desperate to dance with Sugar.

“Mummy?” Selina spun in a circle and tossed garland at the tree haphazardly.

“Yes?”

“Sunny’s coming.”

“What? Coming where? He can toddle about like a drunken sailor.”

“Mummy! Not my baby brother. Big Sunny. He's coming for a visit. He looks so much like Papa, but sad.”

Honey and Leon exchanged frantic glances. The traveler, from the future. But how did Selina know? Her papa asked as much.

“Silly! Sometimes he sees us through the windows. He likes to watch you be Mummy and Papa to Sunny. That you are good to him. I saw him and he talked to me. He very much likes Mummy in a.. Daddy way? But also in a me and Sunny way. I told him be here for Christmas. Is he my Theíos? His name is Mouse. Mummy is that..”

“Topolino. His name is Klaus. Nicklaus like Sunny and Pappou. You are too little to understand, Sugar.”

Honey scooped her up too and cradled both of her children in her lap, kissing their foreheads. She looked at Leon who knitv his eyebrows in thought. Mouth agape with just the slight bit of perturbed on his lips. But a shock of wind and blue and magnetism outside the windows on the fire escape startled the Kostas parents into attention.

“HE'S HERE! TOPO IS HERE!” Selina bolted to the window which Klaus tentatively tapped on. Without permission from her parents, she let him in. She held his hand tight and dragged him to the center of the living room.

Klaus stood uncomfortably in front of Leon and Honey. His hair was as long as Honey’s and his beard to boot. He wore giant rose tinted sunglasses and a starfish necklace dangled against his bare chest. His clothes were blue and white, pants striped with it, and very.. ritualistic. Religious almost. Honey told herself he looked like Jesus had fucked George Harrison in Elton John’s closet.

“Happy Christmas?!” He held up a bottle of wine. “I came bearing a gift!”

“Ain't you a little early in The Savior’s journey to be looking like that?” Leon quipped.

“What? Oh this? I had to.. disperse an alternative lifestyle community.”

“A cult?” Honey questioned.

“A commune,” Klaus and Leon said simultaneously.

Honey shivered. “Either way,” she crossed her arms, “we've been expecting you. For two years.”

Tag: @neuroticpuppy @magic-multicolored-miracle @bisexualnathanyoung @forenschik @nightmonsters @vonkimmeren @maerenee930 @elliethesuperfruitlover @070188 @firstpersonnarrator @rob-private @messengeronthemoon @emelieislasheehan @super-unpredictable98 @frogs--are--bitches @duck-noises @the-freckled-luba @a-ghoulish-tale

#robert sheehan #robert sheehan character fic #moonbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #leon x honey

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yikesharringrove · 3 years

Text

Earn It

My contribution to the @harringroveholidayexchange for @confettibites 💕

Read on ao3

This is a bit different to how I usually write the boys, I hope you enjoy!

(there’s some smut)

“Hey! Harrington!”

Steve rolled his shoulders back, steeling himself for whatever nightmare this was about to be.

Billy Hargrove was walking briskly over to him, crossing the gym in long strides.

“Let’s talk, man.” He yanked Steve’s elbow, pulling him out the door and into the November cold.

Billy had left him alone during practice, had actually played on the shirts scrimmage team with Steve instead of trying his very best to climb inside Steve’s skin in the name of defense.

He only stopped when they were well down the alleyway between the gym and the science department.

“What the fuck do you want?”

Steve was already really over today.

He had to come into school, already had a failing grade in his history course from skipping so many boring lectures.

And everyone had been staring, staring at his face and whispering about who beat up King Steve.

And that who was standing right in front of him, staring him down like an animal, not saying anything.

Steve just sat in one hip, putting his hands on his hips.

“You got something to say, Hargrove?”

“It was fucked up.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“You shouldn’t’ve lied to me.”

Steve’s stomach dropped.

No fucking way was this asshole blaming him for what had gone down. Blaming him for beating Steve until he was fucking unconscious.

“You’re fucking insane.” And maybe Steve should’ve seen it earlier, should’ve seen it that first night when Billy climbed over furniture to glower at him up close. Really should’ve seen it last night when Billy slammed a plate over his head and made his world spin for a few hours. “You’re absolutely crazy.”

Billy huffed, rolling his eyes and digging in his pockets.

He brought out a crumpled back of Marlboro reds, lighting one and sucking on it harshly.

He blew the smoke in Steve’s face.

“I’m not good at this.”

“Clearly.”

Billy huffed again.

“You shouldn’t’ve lied to me. That shit, it makes me fuckin’ mad. And I, I didn’t even fuckin’ see you. Just, just kept swingin’.”

“Real interesting how you couldn’t see me when every hit seemed to land so nicely on my face.”

Steve was seriously over this conversation. He just wanted to go home.

“I didn’t say couldn’t, Dumbshit. I meant didn’t. It wasn’t you, that I was-” he cut himself off with another long drag on his cigarette. “Just don’t pull that shit again, and we’ll be square.”

“See, Hargrove, I don’t even know what shit I pulled. All I was doing was stopping you from murdering a child.”

“Wasn’t gonna do nothin’ to the kid.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Really. Just had to, prove a point, I guess.”

“What point was that? That you’re a racist sack of shit?”

Billy glared at Steve.

Steve glared back.

This asshole didn’t scare him.

Billy broke eye contact first.

“No. The point, Harrington, is more nuanced than I could ever expect your little pea brain to understand.”

“Man, this is the worst fuckin’ apology I’ve ever fuckin’ heard.”

“You think this is an apology?”

“I think it’s a shitty one.”

“This isn’t an apology. I don’t give a flying fuck what you think about me, Harrington. This is a warning. Not to stick your big ugly nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“You brought my big ugly nose into it when you tried to break it last night.”

“Oh, please. If I was aiming to do any real damage, you’d be fuckin’ obliterated right now.”

“Almost was.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re shit at fighting.”

And for some reason, some unknown heinous reason Steve didn’t want to understand, he had to fight back a smile at that one.

“Just ‘cause I don’t fight dirty. Breaking fucking plates and shit.”

“That’s not fighting dirty, that’s fighting smart.”

And again, Steve was almost smiling at this crazy asshole while they talked about the way he nearly caved Steve’s face in last night.

Billy blew out some more smoke, flicking his cigarette to the ground and grinding it out with the toe of his sneaker.

“I’m not gonna get on my knees and beg your forgiveness, ‘cause like I said, Harrington; I don’t give a shit what you think of me.” Steve switched his weight, sitting in his other hip, hands still on his hips. Billy looked up at the sky, the grey clouds hanging low over them. “It was kinda fucked up of me to rearrange your pretty face like that.”

The way Billy spoke sometimes knocked the wind out of Steve.

The way he said pretty face wasn’t in a mocking way.

He said it like he meant it.

“Maybe you should get on your knees.”

Billy’s eyes snapped to look at him, one of those thick eyebrows raising.

Steve tested the waters.

“I think you should get on your knees. Beg for my forgiveness.”

Billy’s tongue made an appearance, just the tip prodding out to slide over his bottom lip. Steve doesn’t even think he knows he was doing it.

“What’re you goin’ on about, Harrington?”

Steve took a step forward.

He reached up, tugging once on Billy’s jacket collar.

“Don’t know how many more times I can say it, Hargrove.” He leaned in, let his breath puff over Billy’s ear. “I think, that you should get on your knees, and beg for my forgiveness.”

Billy shivered.

Steve grinned.

And then Billy stepped back, and took a deep breath, his gaze sharp enough to slice Steve open, and he sunk to his knees.

His hands came up, sliding up Steve’s thighs, resting on his hips.

And Billy looked, unsure, like somehow, Steve hadn’t made this clear enough.

So Steve decided he’d help him out a bit.

“Open your mouth.”

And Billy,

he did.

Opened his mouth, stuck his tongue out, ready and waiting.

Steve couldn’t get his belt open fast enough.

Billy watched, blue eyes heavy, while Steve wrenched down his zipper, pulling out his half hard cock, giving himself a few perfunctory strokes.

He placed the head on Billy’s tongue.

“Go on. Earn my forgiveness.”

And Billy closed his lips, surging forward to take as much of Steve as he could.

And Billy, he’s done this before. Had a cock in his throat.

Steve could tell by the way he moved his tongue along the bottom, by the way he took care to breathe through his nose while he pushed himself down Steve’s cock, until he could feel the softness of the back of Billy’s throat bump against him.

“Fuck, think this is the only thing you should use your mouth for. Can’t fucking talk when you’ve got a dick in your throat.” Steve bucked his hips a little, both hands sinking into Billy’s hair, still a little damp from the showers.

Billy choked when Steve bucked again, looking up to glare at him, spit running down his chin.

Steve panted, giving him an open-mouthed smile.

“Hold on, Baby.” And Billy’s hands tightened where they held onto Steve’s hips, his jaw going soft.

Steve curled both hands more forcefully in Billy’s hair, using it as leverage to properly fuck Billy’s face.

Billy’s eyes fluttered closed as Steve set a steady pace, thrusting into Billy’s soft mouth.

“Feel fuckin’ good. Don’t know why we weren’t doing this last night. Woulda let you take Max home if I knew you could suck dick this good.”

Billy furrowed his brow, wrenching himself back off of Steve’s cock, a line of spit still connecting him to Billy’s pink bottom lip.

The air was cold against his spit-slicked flesh, and he wanted back in.

“It’d do wonders for me if you didn’t talk about my fuckin’ step sister right now.”

And when Steve looked down, sure enough, Billy’s jeans were tented.

“Yeah, sure, just fucking-” Billy rolled his eyes, opening his mouth for Steve once more.

There was a fire in Steve’s gut as he found the same brutal pace.

Billy closed his eyes again, gagging as Steve’s dick pressed further and further down his throat with each thrust.

He let go of Steve’s hip with his left hand, dropping it down to palm at himself through his jeans, fumbling to get the button undone.

He reached inside, found his cock already stick with pre, sliding his fist over himself with the same rough pace Steve had set in his mouth.

He could taste Steve’s own precum dripping steadily onto his tongue, swallowed it down as best as he could.

“I, I’m close. You gonna swallow it all? Take my fucking cum?” Billy moaned around him, jerking himself faster, eyes squeezing closed.

Steve was breathing heavily, slammed himself deep into Billy’s throat, shooting his load, his cock pulsing against Billy’s tongue.

And Billy gave an embarrassing whimper, cumming in his jeans, all over his own hand.

Steve pulled out, spit and cum dripping down Billy’s lip, that pink tongue coming out to lap it up.

Steve tucked himself away as Billy stood up, lighting another cigarette.

“I earn your forgiveness?” Billy’s voice was hoarse, shot completely to hell. It made Steve’s gut burn.

“Thought you said you didn’t care what I think.”

And Steve was off, crossing the field to get back to the parking lot, leaving Billy in the alleyway with his jeans still unbuttoned.

#lemons #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #yikes writes

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incarnateirony · 3 years

Photo

So here we are, The Great Supernatural Rewatch, 01.01 Pilot. If unfamiliar with this rewatch, please check my Objectives and Bracketing post [x], and then my Methodology Notes [x]; Also, reminder that I’m not the only person doing this, though each in their own ways. My Objectives and Methodology are my own.

I’m trying to get a little ahead of the official Jan 3 start date, since I know I will... inevitably fall behind, and this episode was ripe for the initial pick-through for the inevitability of a thousand call backs.

That said, with level 1. SYNCHRONIC: As it reads, unto itself, as best divorced from future knowledge of the story, it’s difficult to do much actual “meta” as much as review and commentary since literally it’s all character and story introductions. There’s some to be had, but beyond things like lighting, the Level 1 viewing tier is not going to lend towards much beyond basic archetypes, and a lot of mythology breakdown. This post will be heaving Level 2 weighted as a result. Most tier-1 posting is going to be an early build of key words, phrases and signs to assemble throughout the season watching (and tap back on later for tier 2 by tagging.)

Also a few unannounced side projects; I’m about to start a “Combat Counter” and “Marksmanship Counter”, to see how Sam and Dean handle both in physical battles/scraps over time compared to each other, and who has the better overall aim in the long term.

Some things saved in this post will seem random and arbitrary, but are potential flags I intend to keep, mostly for later level 2, DIACHRONIC study.

Now to get to the meat:

STUDY: REWATCH/REVIEW STAGE

Allow me to lead with: this episode even unto itself is a fine spectacle of just how much the genre shifted over time. I am a huge fan of David Nutter’s directing; many would know him from, say, Game of Thrones. He didn’t stay long--just Pilot and Wendigo--before moving on. But some of his touches stayed with the show for a few years. The entire ambiance is a giant testiment to survival-horror, a grimness to it, even if the CW itself could never truly capitalize on it. The mood and ambiance was successfully played on. The entire episode is rife with cloudy lighting beaming between bars and through windows, bold silhouette shots, and more that gives an air of mystery even after some characters are established. Dynamic shots are plenty.

Your early reading here isn’t going to tell you much you don’t already know, but is for filing, review, and even reminder/refresher purposes. As the season unfolds, there’s going to be more to interconnect, obviously. If you would like to read more observations on actual parallels, scroll to the DIACHRONIC STUDY header. If I’ve taken a screenshot, even in Synchronic, it’s because it’s a flag I do expect to come back up in diachronic study later and need to catalogue for future parallels and address.

So, imagining it’s 2005, we’re watching Supernatural for the first time. We’re in a very different world, Both in the show, and in the real world. A standard, haunting discord rattles the minds of the audience as a tree moves like a hand towards the window of a suburban home.

We see a classic, nuclear family in this standard home, saying their charming goodnights to an infant. But within moments, we’re told in every classic way that everything is wrong. The infant’s mobile turns on its own accord; the clock stops.

It’s 8:12pm when the world goes haywire. The decorative moon in the room flickers, growing dim. The mother wakes to the sound of a distressed infant on the baby monitor. She rises from bed in her gown.

This is a point I’m left to negotiate cursed knowledge: to all visual cues, the mother’s attire appears to be white. The audience perceived it as white. But we know it, and Jess’ gown later, was actually pink; the film stock failed to capture it. Both short term and much louder in the long term, these two colors can deliver two very different meanings. But for us, a viewer consuming a digital medium with no knowledge beyond what they published, I’m left to decide that the text seems to determine her in a white gown.

The wife sees a stark silhouette, asking if the child was hungry, assuming it was her husband that quieted her. She turns away, tapping on a flickering light over an old marriage portrait that one can only assume was a previous family generation. She descends the stairs.

Here she finds her husband is sleeping. Panic takes her, bringing her to the room. Quickly, chaos erupts. As does she, once seen bleeding down onto the hand of the father from above the crib. We see her, sunken eyes, already dying, screaming without a sound. Silent. Unable to make a noise.

The camera details the desperation of the father rushing his infant to his older child. “Take your brother outside as fast as you can, don’t look back. Now Dean, GO.”

I’m unclear what John thinks he’s going to achieve running back in for Mary as fire takes the home. But soon, he finds young Dean, 4, outside, holding an infant, “I've got you Sammy.” John erupts out of the house as the windows begin to blow, sweeping in to carry Dean, who carries Sam.

As the fire department arrives, the first cords of a song we would later come to recognize as Americana haunt through otherwise chilling music that climbs actively to punch out through our first cold open.

The Winchesters are our first cold open.

We find ourselves in modern day with the rick of a rock cord, and a young woman in a white nurse outfit adjusting her earings while framed by an image of John and Mary--the mother and father--in a picture frame. Though she calls for Sam, we see nothing of Dean--not even a picture. The image on the counter tells of a life Sam(my) was too young to even know, but perhaps is in his blonde-haired woman who teases him about halloween while standing in front of a mirror.

Sam is clearly in his young prime, celebrating his LSAT with a 174 score much to his chagrin with friends dressed up in all styles of wardrobe. Behind Sam a neon black cat sign may just jinx his future in warm but dull lighting; ghostly drapes hide behind Jess in a blue, sharper light.

Sam’s friends perceive he must be the Golden Boy of the family. Jess is proud of him. “What would I do without you?” “Crash and burn.”

Night onsets. Dim lighting feels dusty despite the otherwise hopeful environment. Heavy creaking, groaning, footsteps; Sam rises on instinct, spying an open door and catching haunting noises--sounds. An intruder. And one fateful fight. The choreography spares little.

In actual combat, the intruder--quickly identified as Dean--comes out on top. (Combat ticker: Sam vs Dean: Dean 1) Easy there, tiger. As Dean haunts, revealing his roguish personality quickly, he’s then gotten the better of (this is not going to be considered a combat ticker, it’s not actual combat, but aftermath).

Sam challenges why Dean broke in, but Dean knew Sam would have never picked up without him. They’re interrupted from their silhouetting by the light flicking on, and Dean further displays his roguish charm, enjoying her smurfs, not dreaming of her getting dressed; but soon, it’s down to business--Dean says it’s private family matters. Sam, a unit in the doorframe with Jess, says it can be said in front of her. Until the fateful line: “Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days.” The camera zooms on Sam’s set jaw to tell the audience how much weight is in that line as the audio itself drags a raw cord of suspense.

The dizzying stairs are a descent into a world Sam seems to have left behind, with the audience viewing from below. Quickly, we’re introduced to ideas: the Poltergeist in Amherst, the Devil’s Gate in Clifton, “always missing and always fine.” Sam’s bitterness is thick: rather than telling him not to be afraid of the dark, “dad gave me a .45″, though Dean challenges what he should have done. They soon stand in a cage of sharply lit bars, arguing if this was what their mother would have wanted--to be raised like warriors.

Dean challenges if Sam would want a normal apple pie life; Sam slaps back: not normal, safe. “And that’s why you ran away.”--But John told him to stay gone. Regardless, Dean doesn’t want to do it alone. Sam asks what he was hunting, and why Dean wasn’t there; Dean was working a voodoo thing in New Orleans.

Dean reveals Jericho, California--10 men over to years on the same 5 mile stretch of road.

The “Ran it through A Goldwave” is a funny side comment but I’m not gonna get into why beyond LOL “through a goldwave”, that’s-- whatever. But we hear, in EVP, “I can never go home.”

The average viewer, at this point, isn’t going to be deeply instructing the story parallels--and in the scheme of it, Sam’s fear of going home barely scratches the meta surface. We do know John has been missing for three weeks. And find out Sam has a Monday deadline for his entry to lawschool, “whole future on a plate.” Jess worries over disappearing with his family, reminding of the deadline, but he promises to be back in time.

A sharp cut to JERICHO, CALIFORNIA. The driver shares similar concerns to Sam, “if I miss it, dad’s gonna have my ass,” he tells his girlfriend on the phone. A woman in white appears down the road as the car clock fries at 10:17, asking to be taken home. “Take me home?” “She lives at the end of breckenridge road.” “A girl like you shouldn’t really be alone out here.” She hikes her skirt. “I’m with you. Do you think I’m pretty? Will you come home with me?” hell yeah.

They arrive at a dillapidated home. “I can never go home.” No one even lives here. He steps out, turns around, and she’s gone. An eerie handprint appears on the window.

He decides to leave, clearly feeling the offsettling vibes, but isn’t alone. She steams with animosity in the backseat.

He looks into his mirror.

And wipes out.

After a violent death, we cut back to our boys and another exposition: credit card scams (jesus, could sam have yelled it any louder?), breakfast in a gas station bag, you gotta update your casette tape collection--why? because for one, they’re casette tapes. Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica--it’s the greatest hits of mullet rock. “House rules Sammy, Driver picks the music, rider shuts his cakehole.” “Sammy is a chubby 12 year old.” “What, can’t hear you.”

ENTER, JERICHO

Internal impala shots galore will end up being a major vibe of our next few years. A spunky guitar theme plays that we will eventually come to know. Dean pulls out a cigar box full of fake badges ranging from FBI to Bureau of Tobacco from the glove box, quickly showing us how deep this path goes for them already.

The cops review the mystery: no fingerprints, spotless; we find out that the victim was dating the cop’s daughter, who was posting missing flyers downtown. The boys introduce themselves as federal agents, are challenged for being too young, and Dean sasses his way through, “that’s very kind of you.” -- while gathering basic intel, we quickly find Dean’s tongue getting ahead of him, calling their lack of ability to find a connection beyond them all being male victims, calling it crack police work. The brothers’ dual personas exit the crime scene with a cuff upside the head from Sam to Dean, a bickering match, and Dean leaving a Mulder and Scully crack on the cops.

They quickly find Amy, the girlfriend, and lie to claim that were Troy’s relatives and had heard about her, and move to a diner to talk about events.

No major unusual things to warrant events; Sam compliments her necklace. She jokes that Troy got it for her to freak out her parents for “devil stuff”, but Sam quickly educates her on the pentagram meaning the opposite, a symbol of protection.

But there are weird rumors in town--people talk. In-sync, “what do they talk about”; a local legend. She tells them of a girl murdered on centennial where anyone who picks her up disapears forever. The brothers quickly move on to a library with a clunky monitor, fully dating us; not just the lack of good cell phones and wifi, but the equipment and the appearance of the search engine alone. Right, we’re watching this in 2005.

The brothers slapfight again, but Sam shows that even away from the life he never lost his prowess. He asks, “Angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?” and searches for suicide. 1981, 24 years prior. “Our babies were gone and Constance couldn’t bear it.”

So they go to see where Constance took the swan dive.

The brothers begin to fight.

SAM Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—

DEAN turns around.

DEAN Monday. Right. The interview.

SAM Yeah.

DEAN Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?

SAM Maybe. Why not?

DEAN Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?

SAM steps closer.

SAM No, and she's not ever going to know.

DEAN Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.

DEAN turns around and keeps walking. SAM follows.

SAM And who's that?

DEAN You're one of us.

SAM hurries to get in front of DEAN.

SAM No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.

DEAN You have a responsibility to—

SAM To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.

DEAN grabs SAM by the collar and shoves him up against the railing of the bridge. A long pause.

DEAN Don't talk about her like that.

They’re interrupted as Constance appears, diving off the cliff, and immediately taking control of the Impala.

“Dude, who’s driving your car?” Dean holds up his keys.

They flee, over the bridge, and share another movement. One more fake card later, they find themselves in John’s room, room 10, in a motel. Sam remarks that the place is covered in Salt, and Cat’s Eye Shells. The entire room is covered in case work and lore.

I’ll break down the lore of these in a later mythos reblog, though the Asmodeus one really catches my eye for reasons outside of this episode.

Sam finds a photo-- a distinctly different family than the one on his college dresser. There, it’s John and Mary as an ideal image that framed Jessica. Here, it’s the life he walked away from. But while Dean heads out, he’s spotted by police, and their old coded dialect pops out, “Five Oh, take off.” Federal marshalls confront him: They’re looking for his partner (cue Wincest fans trying to make meta that’s about to be shot down one scene later, in the distance), fake US Marshalls, fake credit cards, is there anything about you that’s Real. My boobs.

Just putting a flag in the name Sheriff Pierce, we’ll figure out if that’s ever valid to anything later. But he tells Dean of the trouble he’s in with a room full of missing people and devil worship, for Dean to snap back he was 3 when they went missing. But they knew he had more than one partner. An older man. John’s journal is thrown out (Wincest meta dies a terrible death beyond previous scene)

Again, I’ll translate the FUTHARK in a follow up post, this is already taking a lot of time as it is.

Meanwhile, Sam is investigating the leads they and John both found. Previously spoken intents to burn her has him ask about her being buried at an old plot by Breckenridge at their old place.

SAM And why did you move?

JOSEPH I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died.

SAM stops walking. JOSEPH stops too.

SAM Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?

JOSEPH No way. Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I ever known.

SAM So you had a happy marriage?

JOSEPH hesitates.

Putting a flag in this for later.

But Sam decides to call the man out.

SAM A woman in white. Or sometimes weeping woman?

JOSEPH just looks.

SAM It's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really.

SAM starts back toward JOSEPH.

SAM Um, they're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places, in Hawaii, Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women.

SAM stops in front of JOSEPH.

SAM You understand. But all share the same story.

JOSEPH Boy, I don't care much for nonsense.

JOSEPH walks away. SAM follows.

SAM See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them.

JOSEPH stops.

SAM And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.

JOSEPH turns around.

SAM Then once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again.

JOSEPH You think...you think that has something to do with...Constance? You smartass!

SAM You tell me.

JOSEPH I mean, maybe...maybe I made some mistakes. But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell out of here! And you don't come back!

Sam is flushed out, and makes a fake 911 call to break Dean out, pointing out that the husband had been unfaithful. More dramatic silhouette shots really capture the early spirit of the piece, with Dean using a phone booth in lieu of other options. Hell, Dean was able to find a phone booth, let that take you back. They determine that John left Jericho, and establish his ex-marine habits with the coordinates, 35-111 that Dean had lied through to the cop. But while on the phone, the woman in white appears in front of Sam on the road, non-crashing.

She controls the car again, and forces him to drive to a broken home, repeating, “I can never go home.” Sam recognizes: “You’re scared to go home.” And that’s when the creepy ghost rapey vibes start, mounting him, demanding he hold her, she’s cold. “You can’t kill me, I’m not unfaithful.” He argues. You will be. Just hold me.

As she goes to rip out his heart, she flickers with the beat of his.

Dean breaks into the scene, unloading 12 shots into the ghost with iron bullets to disrupt her manifestation, giving Sam time to sit up and say, “I’m taking you home.”, where he drives through the house. Dean helps Sam out of the car, only to be telekinetically pinned by a dresser to be disabled.

The lights flicker again. Children manifest, water runs down the stairs, looking eerily like the light could be the Winchester’s old home

Here, she falls when reunited with her children. Sam clarifies--she could never go home, she was too afraid to face her kids (while not viable for the synchronic study, for my own sanity I’m going to note this season, Home will be all but mandatory to touch back here.) Dean says Sam found her weak spot.

They drive down the road with a blown headlight, Sam using an old map and ruler to locate the coordinates. But it’s realized Sam isn’t going with Dean to blackwater ridge, colorado 600 miles away. His interview was in ten hours. Dean declares, “I’ll take you home.”

There’s banter over meeting up later, and being a good team, but Sam goes inside and calls for Jess. “You home?” He finds a plate full of cookies with a note “missed you, love you” and relaxes in bed with the distant sound of a running shower.

And of course.

And so it began.

SYNCHRONIC STUDY: IN-EPISODE PARALLELS

In a first episode, there’s only so much to address. While we may question how much the Woman in White being in White may have been intentional with Jess and Mary, who wore pink (a diachronic full text body note later), in the initial review, it’s worth mentioning for the reasons in part 1 I’ve decided to air towards white in the final text product. Resultingly, the tie between Constance->Mary->Jess seems tangible. But it isn’t really so simple.

“Home.” Home is a huge keyword.

"I can never go home." within the episode unto itself, Sam is struggling to well, get back home. And frankly, returning home is the key of it. (hears distant uppity Wincest stans) The difference here is, this isn't a direct parallel, of course, as much as a general ambient mood that will haunt is forward through the show, even if current viewers just watching episode 1 don't recognize it yet. Sam going home kills Jess, essentially; or at least witnesses her death. At the same time, Sam fears returning to the hunter life, or more doesn't think he can because John told him not to come back. But now that Jess is dead, well, Sam can never go home to the life he was building. He has no choice but TO go back to the other home--the hunter life. Even if he’s certain it’s not what Mary would have wanted for them.

DIACHRONIC STUDY: IN-SEASON PARALLELS, LOOKING FORWARD

There’s no way I’ll have them all in mind, these are just what are flagging me along the way.

1.09 Home As the “Home” rewatch is not that far away, I’m going to save this as a placeholder with general notes about “Mary apologizing to Sam,” even if frankly, she should have to Dean too. But even if, at the time, the exact details of the deal may or may not have been established or hashed out by the authors--we’re not picking at arguing if the authors intended it or not here. Here, Mary apologizes for her deal. Here, Mary apologizes--for drowning her children. For magnetizing this poltergeist to this place that she demands let her sons go, where she forces the spook to let go of Sam. She couldn’t really go home in the truest sense until that passed. (I’ll have deeper chain-link connections on this looking-forward once actually at the episode.

DIACHRONIC STUDY: IN-ERA PARALLELS, LOOKING FORWARD

They’re here, but not pinging me at 1 AM beyond vagueblogging about Lucifer showing up as Jess to haunt Sam and the inevitable time travel episodes about Mary, so placeholder for later updates.

DIACHRONIC STUDY: BEYOND-ERA PARALLELS, LOOKING FORWARD

Obviously compare to above-dropped screenshots.

11.04: Mistakes were made.

Listen, Dean’s grimace seat has been in discussion lately, don’t blame me for thinking of Joseph’s mistakes right after the season as Dean-mirror Pastor Joseph. Funny how Sam’s get shown and Dean’s don’t.

11.23/12.01: Mary’s return in the (white or pink, I’m rolling with white as-above) gown, and all extending details.

12.22: Mary's dreamspace.

12.23: Dean, Castiel's death, Sam removing Dean

15.01: Woman In White, We've got work to do

I feel like the Woman in White is the most interesting of these that hasn’t been as talked to death as, say, the 12.23 elements with the Destiel parallel. After all, the Woman in White largely focused on Sam. It was his fear of home. It was him being faithful to Jess (and being unfaithful can be more than sex, really; after all, he made a promise to come back.) But in season 15, it’s Dean that the ghost of the jilted lover approaches, shortly after Dean nearly killed Jack in his pain. Was Dean the weeping woman? Or was Castiel? Who held the animosity in the back seat?

Or is this a shared path? As Dean puts the Equalizer away under the Cigar Box, he has his own haunting issues in the mirror.

Those will be addressed more deeply when we get to that episode in like half a year. But for now, I’m just putting a pin in it. With a side scribble of “Cas got his Secrets/Mary, Sam got his serial killer and clowns and Dean got... the woman in white with Belphegor.”

15.02: Road Closed

15.03: If one insists Mary and Jess’ dress are pink, Rowena’s dress upon wedding and unbirthing to death (and queendom)

15.04: I still think about Jess (shortly before Eileen’s return.)

15.13: If one insists Mary and Jess’ dress are pink, atop the eventually-addressed meaning of lighting (death and transformation) vs the Empress symbolism (fertility, rebirth), Castiel in pink light.

15.15: If one insists Mary and Jess’ dress are pink. Amara’s trenchcoat.

15.20: Beyond the obvious quotes, and the (IMO failed) attempt at nostalgia, there’s honestly very little callback to the original episode.

That’s it on first glance, I’m sure more will rattle out as we go forward. Well, mostly. Keys to the Legacy from Mint Condition is flagging me alongside control mechanisms like Castiel losing control of his vessel. But those are thoughts to put pins in for now and develop later.

COMBAT COUNTER:

DEAN VICTORIES: 1 (sam vs Dean)

MARKSMANSHIP COUNTER:

DEAN SHOTS: 12 shots, 12 hits.

(hits for any individual will be considered accurate even if targets teleport/flicker out as long as it should have hit the body)

The mythology pasted all around John’s Room is worth a second trip, but off the top of my head I see the Bell Witch and Asmodeus from the Lesser Key of Solomon (near the motel door).

I’ll reblog later to add commentary on that.

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writingwip · 3 years

Text

A fic I probably wont finish but the thoughts there. Anyone’s free to take it up if they want. Basically Five wakes up and finds out he’s the god of a cult. Klaus better explain this one in .5 seconds or Five’s gonna have his head on a stake.

Five had found himself sat on a throne of sorts, expression wild and confused. People were lined up on both sides with fruits and drinks held neatly on platters and kneeling stiffly with faces respectfully angled downwards. They all had on similar clothing, soft flowing fabrics that draped over them but fit nicely, deep blues and soft beiges. The room was lit with candles and incense that made him feel sleepy and lightheaded.

A bizarre experience is how Five would put it. Bizarre and slightly amusing and confusing and interesting.

He had caught the eyes of a figure standing out among the rest, closest to him and wearing slightly altered clothes. He had a little cylindrical hat with funny symbols Five realized were his math equations, only if all the letters and numbers were shoved into one image haphazardly made to look semi-symmetric. His eyes lit up as they made eye contact and a smile quickly took over his face. Five already wanted to punch him.

“Awake at last, my lord,” and oh jesus, he was being called a lord. What had he gotten into this time? “We have long awaited you to arise. Welcome back, dear lord,” and the man deeply bowed. Five wasn’t sure whether to run yet or see where this was leading. “Lord Klaus had predicted today would be the day you awoken and joined us once again. Such divinity has blessed us and we had quickly gotten ready for your arrival.” Klaus? What had that oaf done? Five sighed and stood up.

He had been sitting criss-cross on a soft, velvet pillow sat on a raised platform. Surrounding it were more candles and a burning stick of incents strong enough to make Fives head dizzy. This was ridiculous.

“Where is Klaus?” Five asks the man. He seemed downright euphoric that Five had spoken, let alone directly to him. He was quick to fully stand and reach his hand out, offering support as Five’s legs wobbled. Five shot him a glare and raised his hand as a warning. He would slap this man if it came to it which, judging by how he’s acting already, it will.

“Lord Klaus and Lady Vanya are awaiting you in the congregation room,” The man says quickly, shuffling forward slightly before turning back to Five to see if he was following. As if he were a child. Five sneered and walked in front of the man if just to prove a point. He felt an ache in his chest and eyed the food platters suspiciously, taking an apple off of one. The woman who was holding it squeaked and when Five looked away he heard a bang. He was pretty sure she passed out. Five had half a mind to tell everyone to fuck off but his head was too busy trying to figure out what was going on to really put the thoughts into action. He wondered idly if it were poisoned or drugged, but quickly pushed that thought away. These people were way too adoring of him to try to touch him, let alone poison him. Plus, he was almost sure Klaus wouldn’t let a weird cult drug him. Almost. He shoved the apple into his mouth and made it to the end of the room, pushing the two doors open with a grunt.

Sweet, succulent fresh air invaded his lungs. It wasn’t choking in incense and body heat. Thank god. The door opened up to a bright room with an arched dome ceiling entirely made of glass. Sunlight streamed in and lit up the white pillars supporting it all, dancing across the fresh green leaves that decorated the walls and sat prettily in the center of the room. It had soft looking benches lining the walls, though other than that it was barren. It was a room made to look pretty and that’s about it, apparently. Such a waste of space. Five stepped in and looked around. There were three doors on each wall. Five looked back to the man trailing behind him and gave him a pointed look. The poor buy was sweating bullets.

“Right this way sir,” He stumbled out and veered off to the left. The air was fresh and crisp and slightly cold, like a cloudless october morning. It made his fingertips cold to the touch. He rubbed them together and followed the man.

“Who are you?” Five asked, just so he could stop calling him ‘the man’. He jumped up at the broken silence and looked nervously towards Five.

“I’m the head priest, my lord. Priest Bence, of your religion, sir,” Five’s brow rose at ‘your religion’ but otherwise didn’t comment on it. He’d grill Klaus on it when they got there, for now he’d like to enjoy the pretty scenery and let his stiff joints loosen up and pop.

They ventured through a few more rooms with similar architecture, though some were more furnished than others and were obviously meant for people to hang out in. It was all very cozy and bright, something Five wasn’t much used to.

With a final push of a door the lighting changed. It was still bright but it shone with a dulled yellow glow. Soft pews lead up like dominos to a stained glass window portraying… something. Five couldn’t really wrap his head around the colors, though they were obviously meant to represent a silhouette of a scene. Five wasn’t much of a visualiser anyways.

Directly below the intricate glass were his siblings. Two of them at least. Klaus was sat on a bright pink bean bag chair that looked wildly out of place front and center in a church setting, gesturing bodily as he narrated whatever odd story Klaus spun. Vanya was standing, leaning against the wall and looking at Klaus with a smile.

When the door closed behind them, the two looked up. Smiles, soft and warm and kind and so uncanny directed at Five, were immediately on their faces.

“Five…” Vanya said, voice choked up as if she were about to cry. Five really hoped she wouldn’t because he was lacking in social skills and wouldn’t know how to comfort her. Thankfully she seemed to be holding it in.

“Five, buddy! We’ve been waiting like, forever for you! Took you long enough, sleeping beauty!” Klaus was grinning ear to ear and even he seemed a little choked up. What was going on? Five made his way up to his siblings as they patiently waited. Head Priest Bence trailed after him like a lost duckling all the way, making as if to grab for Five then quickly putting his hands back. It was odd and awkward and Five just wanted him to leave.

When he got in front of them Vanya leapt in for the kill, hugging Five tightly and burrowing her head in his shoulder. Klaus was standing now, kicking the bean bag slightly to the side and squeezing the two siblings.

“Group hug!” Klaus laughed. Fives fingers twitched. There was silence for a second before Klaus looked directly at Head Priest Bence. “Dude we’re having a moment. Go, shoo, off to the dinning hall or whatever,” and before he could even finish his sentence the man was out the door, eager to accept any of their orders it seemed. Five watched him go with detached amusement. He pulled away, though both siblings looked dejected. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Five asked first, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Vanya and Klaus looked at eachother knowingly. This can’t be good.

“Straight to the point as always, Five-o!” Klaus grinned. Vanya snorted and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, it’s good to have you back. It's… it’s been a while,” she said and her eyes fogged up again.

“How long exactly?” Five glowered. He felt like he wasn’t going to like this answer. The two siblings sent each other looks again. He really hoped they didn’t learn telepathy or something. Vanya looked away first and Klaus looked victorious.

By god they did, didn’t they?

“It’s uh… it’s been a couple… hundred… years?” She stutters out and looks at the opposite wall with great interest, fiddling with her hands. Five wants to either slam his head through the stain glass or scream into one of the very soft pillows. Possibly both if he positioned himself right. Klaus looked at him with a shit eating grin. He knew exactly what this was about.

Five could settled for neither of those options and instead wanted to punch his brother directly in his stupid nose.

“You really are sleeping beauty with your hundred year rest,” Klaus grins.

It would be so easy. He could probably break his nose.

Surprising even himself, Five showed an impressive amount of restraint. He only punched him in the gut. Vanya choked on a giggle as Klaus hunched over.

“I wasn’t even the one to tell you,” he wheezed out pathetically. “This is totally unfair.” Five scoffed.

“You know damn well Vanya’s my favorite,” and Klaus said nothing to that, admitting defeat and slumping down to the floor. Five looked down on him like a lion looks down on a prairie mouse. Vanya smiles goofily next to him, crouching down and patting Klaus’ back.

“Why didn’t you guys just, i dunno, wake me up?” Five hisses, arms tightening around himself. Vanya opens her mouth to reply but Five cuts her off, “And before you say it’s one of those self-induced healing comas, I know I had like a thousand viles of that kick start you could have pumped into me”. They’re both quiet.

Klaus still seemed winded so Vanya spoke up after a few hesitant seconds. “Your lab… may or may not have… blown up…” She smiles nervously. Five clutches his arms tightly against his chest and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath in and letting his tense shoulders unwind. He opens his eyes and smiles back.

Vanya screams, sharp and ringing, and books it towards the door. Klaus is scrambling to stand up and clutch the bean bag up to his face, cowering in a corner. Five’s smile widens and a vein throbs in his head.

He had been awake for less than twenty minutes and he already felt a headache ebbing its way into his temple.

With pinpoint accuracy he picks up the nearest object, a wooden pedestal that was probably supposed to have a book on it, and chucks it directly at Vanya. She’s out the door in time, however, and now there's a wooden pedestal halfway out the door. He hadn’t been trying to actually hit her, he never would, but hearing that sentence had him teetering the line more than he had ever thought possible.

By the way she said it, she definitely had something to do with it.

Five looks over at Klaus with a cold glare and he flinches deeper into the small corner. He sighs, head in his hands, and takes a minute to compose himself. Klaus peaks his head over the bean bag and gives him an innocent look.

“Okay, I’m fine now,” Five declares and Vanya shakkily opens the door. Wood Splinters rain down from the gaping hole only plugged up by the pedestal itself. She creeps up to him, though she has no real fear lining her shoulders.

“So let me get this straight. I was out of commission for a few hundred years and since none of you could wake me up, you decided to start a cult,” Five practically growls. Klaus is now stomach-down on the bean bag, kicking his feet to make it slide back over to his siblings.

Klaus makes a placating expression of contemplation before shrugging. “Yeah pretty much,” He says.

Five contemplates murder, for just one second. One beautiful second.

“And why am I a part of it, pray tell?” Five asks, annoyed. He had made it specifically clear that he didn’t want to be a cult leader or a ‘god’ a good few thousand years ago after the train wreck that was his first and last cult. At least, it used to be his last. He was genuinely confused, knowing his siblings would comply with at least those restrictions when asked to. Vanya's face screws up a bit, looking almost pained.

“When you, uh, were attacked and put in that state, we weren’t sure where your body was. We’re still not entirely sure. We just got word a few hundred years ago that there was a small cult forming around an ‘immortal sleeping child’ and we were willing to take a gamble and look into it,” Vanya muttered out, seemingly embarrassed. So they had lost his body then? How?

“What happened? Why was I attacked in the first place?” Five asks, walking over to Klaus and sitting next to him. He leaned heavily onto the beanbag and Klaus shuffled over, though Five never climbed on.

Vanya’s fingers grew somehow more twitchy. “That's the thing…”

Klaus beat her to it, though his usual happy air was completely gone. He looked serious for once.

“It was one of us, and we don't know who”

#tua au #five hargreeves #tua fanfic #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #tua #anyone can adopt this work #god knows I have no clue where I'm going with it

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ulalumewitch · 3 years

Text

this was originally inspired by the prompt “The Pet” by @capriprompts … part 3 finally address the prompt proper and my version of it. hope you enjoy!

Author’s Note: This story deals with disappointments during the adoption process as well as references to parental deaths during childhood. Some readers may find this triggering. I hope I handled it with the care and sensitivity it deserves.

This is part 3 (and final part). The links to Part 1 and Part 2 are below:

https://ulalumewitch.tumblr.com/post/658329277505421312/betty-part-1

https://ulalumewitch.tumblr.com/post/658355318446800896/betty-part-1

(not sure why they both read “part 1” but i swear the second one is part 2. one day i’ll figure all this out - lol)

word count: 2,590

themes: angst and fluff

hope you enjoy - i just love these two.

“Betty: Part 3”

Damen frowned as he sat on a stool at the breakfast bar. He looked passed the living room and to the balcony. Autumn finally broke through the summer heat, but despite the chilly temperatures, Laurent had remained outside on the balcony. For over an hour.

He’d been there when Damen got home at dinner. Laurent refused to eat, stated he wasn’t hungry, and turned away from him. Damen didn’t push him. After eight years together he knew which battles to pick, and he knew if he picked this one, he would lose.

His stomach fluttered with nerves. Damen wanted to speak to Laurent about what was coming before it got here. He tapped his phone screen again. No new messages. Dammit, Jokaste.

The woman was always late. While he hated lying to Laurent these past few days, he felt it necessary. He’d never lied to him before and it wasn’t something he ever wanted to repeat. But he wanted this to be a surprise if only so that Laurent couldn’t argue himself out of it. This would be good for them. Damen was sure of it. Well ... mostly sure of it.

Damen opened up his text messages waiting for replies. The texts from the people he talked to most in his life waiting for responses he couldn’t muster himself to give at the moment.

Papa Theo - D. Kastor wants to host Thanksgiving this year. Don’t let him take over. You and Laurent are better hosts. I’m begging you. Do what you have to. If I have to eat salmon on crackers again instead of turkey because Jokaste thinks it’s en vogue or whatever her high snobby ass thinks, I’ll lose it. Thank you. Papa.

Auguste - Laurent keeps ignoring my calls. Everything okay?

Kastor - Bro, Knicks game next weekend?

Nik - Knicks game next weekend? Text Kas for info.

Nicaise - Tell Laurent to call Auguste before I kill them both.

Jokaste - I’ll text you once I’ve valeted with the package.

The text from Jokaste was from two hours ago. It was only a fifteen minute drive between their apartments. But Damen knew from experience if he pressured her she’d delay herself more.

But for the past few days Jokaste was oddly ... maternal. She’d listened without spewing unwanted advice and helped him find exactly what he wanted, pulling strings from a few of the charities she’d help fund over the years. He’d never been so happy she spent money and drank wine for a living.

His phone buzzed in his hand. Damen let out a shaking breath as the text from Jokaste finally came through: The eagle has landed. We’re on our way up.

Damen took a breath and replied back: Laurent is out on the balcony. Door is unlocked. If we’re still outside please wait in the office until I get you. He’s ... not himself right now.

Damen held his breath. It could go one of two ways with Jokaste. Either she would understand or she would say she was too busy and leave the surprise in the living room before walking out.

His phone buzzed: Ok

He let the breath he’d been holding out and resolutely walked around the breakfast bar and to the balcony. Damen opened the glass door and gritted his teeth against the blast of cold wind to his face. Laurent remained sitting in his chair, bundled up in a huge knit sweater, scarf, coat, and hat that left only his eyes visible. He didn’t move as Damen approached. Laurent didn’t even look at him.

Damen’s heart pounded in his chest. Did something else happen? Had he forgotten something important? He and Laurent never had a problem communicating until recently and it killed him. This had to end. And now.

“Laurent,” Damen said.

No movement. No glance of acknowledgement. Nothing.

The wind picked up and howled as if in warning from the gods themselves against the building. Damen grabbed a chair a swung it around directly in front of Laurent and then sat down. Two narrowed eyes of blue ice cut to Damen then.

“You’re blocking my view.”

“Laurent, I know this has been hard -“

“I’m not talking about this. Leave me alone.”

Damen took a breath. He was in a worse mood then he thought. Shit.

“Listen to me. Okay? Just listen.”

Laurent leaned back slightly and with a small flourish of his hand indicated for Damen to proceed before crossing his arms over his chest. Damen took a calming breath and looked away at the same view to steady himself.

“I don’t know how much you’re hurting, because I’m not you. But I’m hurting too. It’s difficult. It’s painful. It’s unfair, and ugly, and all of the things you hope to never experience,” Damen stated, “But we’ll get through this. We will have our family, Laurent. Yes, things are bleak right now but we can’t give up because somewhere out there is our son or daughter. Maybe they’re not born yet, maybe they are. But we don’t give up because that’s not what we do.

“We didn’t give up on each other. Hell, you spent your entire inheritance to start a firm with a man you weren’t even married to yet. You helped raise your younger brother when you were still technically a child yourself because the worst nightmare for children happened. You fought your way through school and internships all while spending hours volunteering with children’s programs when most of us in law school could barely keep up with the average demands. You are a fighter, Laurent. You can’t give up now. Please, don’t give up now.”

Laurent’s eyes flickered for a moment as he regarded Damen silently. He didn’t move a single muscle. He also didn’t respond.

Damen took in a shuddering breath, “I love you. I’m sorry life isn’t as we want it right now. I will keep fighting for it, but I need you with me.”

Laurent still looked at him with cool neutrality as he asked, “Where were you this week, Damianos?”

Damen’s heart lurched in his chest. Oh God ... Damen had known better than to lie to Laurent. But he did it anyway because he’d been giddy at the thought of the surprise now waiting for them in their apartment. Apparently Laurent’s foul mood had been exacerbated because of him. Goddammit this was not how he wanted this to go either.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

Damen cleared his throat, “I’m sorry I lied to you. But if you come inside I’ll show you why. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Laurent huffed, “I’m not in the mood for surprises or apologies. Now, leave me alone.”

“No.”

Laurent’s nostrils flared as he shot up and gracefully moved around him to the door. Damen cursed under his breath as he went after Laurent. Before he could think he caught his arm as they entered the living room.

“Let go,” Laurent growled.

“I was with Jokaste,” Damen surged ahead, “I needed her connections to get something for you and me to expand our family in a different way until our child comes home.”

Laurent stilled. Damen immediately let go of his arm.

Laurent turned, his blue eyes glittering with fury, as he hissed, “What did you do?”

Damen ignored the churning in his stomach and called out, “Bring her out, Jokaste.”

From the other side of the apartment the sound of heels clicking against the floor echoed around them. Then, Jokaste came into view. Her gold hair pulled back, her makeup made her look more devastatingly beautiful than was natural. Her designer clothes understated but somehow still reeked of money - and in her arms she held a basket with pink padding. And within that, a small puppy yipped happily, wagging her tail.

Damen looked at his husband. Laurent’s mouth hung slightly open, eyes wide and staring. Damen took a step closer to him until they were nearly touching but not quite.

Damen murmured, “She’s a King Charles Beagle mix. Her owners were older and couldn’t care for her so they put her up for adoption. She’s twelve weeks old, spayed, up to date on vaccines, and mostly housebroken. Jokaste put word out to the charities for animal adoption she’s helped fundraise for over the years, and then one of her connections emailed her about this beauty. I’ve been meeting with Jokaste to spend time with the puppy and then more recently to finish paperwork on her, as well as visit dog training centers and to research their puppy programs.”

He stopped. Laurent still didn’t respond, though he’d since closed his mouth, his eyes on the puppy in the basket. The white and tan puppy yipped excitedly seeming only to have eyes for Laurent. Damen’s chest ached slightly ... it was like she knew.

“I wanted to talk to you about it earlier but you needed time alone,” Damen whispered, “I’m sorry. I wanted it to be a little bit of a surprise but not this much. Also, if you don’t want her I understand. Jokaste will keep her instead so she’ll have a good home. But ... but I thought it would be nice for us to have a pet to take care of, to start expanding our family this way until ... until we can get what we want. She’s part beagle, so I imagine she’ll utterly lose her mind with happiness on the farm. But again, Laurent, if it’s too much, Jokaste will take her home, no questions asked. It’s up to you.”

Laurent swallowed and Damen heard his throat click as he did so. His face unreadable as he took a step towards Jokaste and the puppy. As he walked towards her, Damen stayed in place, but didn’t suppress the smile as the puppy began to yip louder, and bounced on her front paws the closer Laurent got to her.

“She’s high energy,” Jokaste murmured, “But she does love to cuddle. I think she likes you.”

Laurent remained silent as he brought his fingers up to the puppy. She immediately began to lick them, her tail wagging at such a rate Damen wondered if it possible for the thing to fly off of her. Then, tentatively, Laurent stroked her head. The puppy stopped bouncing but remained with her eyes on Laurent, tail wagging, as he pet her. Damen’s gut lurched as he saw the slight tremor in Laurent’s hand every time he lifted it up to resume stroking her down her back.

Then Laurent picked her up and held her against his chest. The puppy reached up and licked his face. Laurent pursed his lips together but Damen swore a smile was there before he was assaulted with puppy kisses. He cradled her against him, her fur a stark contrast against the black coat he still wore.

When she settled Laurent looked at Damen. He felt Laurent’s stare go through him and straight into his soul.

“Her name is Betty Rue Vere-Akielon,” Laurent announced.

Damen grinned, “Your obsession with the Golden Girls prevails once again.”

Laurent looked at the puppy and whispered, “They are fierce and so are you.”

The puppy licked Laurent’s face happily in response yipping gleefully. Damen cut his eyes to Jokaste and she smiled softly at him.

“I’m going to go,” Jokaste stated, “Have a good evening.”

“Thank you,” Damen said.

She dipped her chin slightly in acknowledgement and left. Damen walked over to Laurent and sat next to him as he set Betty on the ground. The puppy ran over both of their legs as Laurent removed his scarf and jacket, discarding both on the floor behind them.

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Damen whispered.

Laurent cut his eyes to him before focusing on the puppy again, and said, “Forgiven. I’m sorry I gave you the silent treatment.”

Damen huffed a laugh, “No you’re not.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Laurent’s lips and he said, “I missed having a dog. We had one when I was a little boy but she passed away just before our parents.”

Damen nodded and said, “They estimate she shouldn’t be more than twenty-five or thirty pounds. Both breeds are good with children. Training is a necessity. But, but I think she’ll fit in well.”

“She’s perfect,” Laurent cooed and picked her up again to hold her to his chest, and then looked at Damen, his smile finally wide and unrestrained, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Damen said, “I know this doesn’t fix anything, but I thought it would help.”

Laurent leaned closer to him and then pressed his lips softly to Damen’s. He closed his eyes and when Laurent went to retreat, grabbed the back of his head and kept their mouths firmly in place. Damen deepened the kiss, needing the contact, reveling in the taste of them together.

“I love you,” Damen whispered breathlessly, “I love you and I’m here for you. Through good times and bad.”

Laurent smiled softly, “I love you, too. Thank you for ... thank you.”

Damen slipped an arm around Laurent’s waist and pulled him closer. Laurent could talk circles around anyone. But when it came to expressing feelings, he still sometimes had difficulty. But Damen didn’t mind. Laurent loved Damen in ways that went well beyond the words, as it should be.

“Oops,” Laurent tittered, “Betty, darling, we must work on that bladder control. Come on, lets go for a little walk. Does she have a leash?”

Damen smiled, “Everything is stashed in the office, including a couple of different coats for her since it’s getting colder outside.”

Laurent snorted a little and stood up saying, “I’ll get her collar, leash, and coat on. You can clean up the mess.”

“Is that how it’s going to be?” Damen asked.

“Please tell me you bought her a collar and leash to distinguish her as the royalty she is and that it matches whatever clothing you got for her to wear,” Laurent called as he walked away from Damen without looking back or responding to his question.

Damen rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath before stating, “No, because I knew you’d hate anything I bought anyway.”

Laurent’s snort echoed as he made his way down the hall.

Damen smiled even as he cleaned up the puppy’s accident as he heard Laurent’s murmurs to the puppy, “Don’t worry, Betty, daddy is going to get you the most expensive collar, leash, and puppy coats money can buy. Papa doesn’t understand the importance of these things. What do you think pink with diamonds? Yes, I think so too ... or maybe a gold collar to compliment your white and tan coloring? Yes ... we’ll try a few on ...”

The pain of the rejection began to ease slightly in Damen’s heart. He knew it would take more time and more than a puppy for it to heal completely. But his gamble paid off and he reveled in the warm relief that coursed through his veins.

He and Laurent had work to do, but the dark cloud of anguish seemed to lift from over their heads. And as Damen put on his coat and grabbed Laurent’s from off the floor, he smiled as he walked down the hall as Laurent’s lament echoed loudly from the office, “Oh my God, was this made for peasant puppies? Nylon? Really?”

But Damen didn’t mind. He’d endure any cutting remarks on his sense of puppy fashion if it meant his beloved had a respite from his pain. Things weren’t perfect, but it was still a damn good place to be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ End of this Little Story

thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed. They are one of the many ships I love to follow and write about. have a lovely day, morning, evening, night wherever you are! xo

#captive prince fanfic #writing prompt #modern au #lamen #damen of akielos #laurent of vere #jokaste

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c-rose2081 · 3 years

Text

Storybook Days

(Chapter 1)

—

It’s Summer in Auradon, and Audrey is tasked with babysitting the VK kids while the others are busy. Not sure what to do with them, Audrey agrees to read from a book of stories Dizzy found in the royal library. Except the book is actually enchanted; and now Audrey, Celia, Dizzy and the twins are stuck inside its pages, having to go through each story until they find a way out.

—

“Ben, you can’t be serious,”

It wasn’t very Princess-like to whine, but Audrey Rose didn’t care much for being proper at the moment. It was a bright and clear Summer day in Auradon, and the young King had just dropped a last minute bombshell on the heir of Auroria, “what do you mean I have to babysit?”

“I wouldn’t do this unless I had to, Auds.” Ben said, only half-apologetic as he quickly signed off on some papers while trying to kick on his left shoe, “but Evie’s presence at the Royal Picnic has been requested,”

“So what!” Audrey insisted, following Ben across the study as he gathered up his leather jacket and motorcycle helmet, “why not take the little heathens with you to the stupid picnic?”

Ben shot Audrey a warning look as she lifted her hands and scoffed, “sorry. I just mean they are troublesome and annoying, and I don’t want to babysit,”

“Audrey, you know I’d love for them to come, and for us not to be having this conversation. But four VKids running around with a bunch of stuffy dignitaries is a disaster waiting to happen. This Picnic is really important,”

“But why can’t Uma do it? Or your parents?”

“Because Uma, Harry and Gil are on the isle this weekend doing outreach, and mom and dad will be at the picnic,”

“Ugh, but Ben...”

“Audrey,” placing both hands firmly on the girls shoulders, the boy shot her a dazzling, Kingly grin, “remember what you said to me after Barrier Day? About wanting to make amends?”

“Yes,” Audrey grumbled, “I’m the one who said it,”

“This is a perfect opportunity. It’s just one afternoon, till tomorrow, and Mal and Evie would certainly appreciate it,”

“But the VKids hate me, Ben,” Audrey insisted again as the King walked from the office with a pink Princess in tow, “Celia put chili powder on the rim of my teacup the other day. I could’ve died,”

“It was a harmless little prank, Audrey,” Ben chuckled, swiveling around on a heel to cup Audrey’s cheek in his hand, “you’ll be fine. I have full faith that you can watch them for a night.” He reassured her, “please Audrey? For me?”

Giving the girl his best beastly pout, Audrey folded her arms tightly against her chest.

“Fine. But you’ll bring something back for me, right?” Audrey asked, admitting defeat with a deep sigh and an eye roll, “a piece of cake or...”

“Something sweet for my favorite Princess.” Ben agreed, hurriedly kissing the back of Audrey’s knuckles with a smile, “you’ll do great, I just know it. Evie left some instructions on the fridge, and you have us all on speed dial. Now I have to go or I’ll be late,”

Leaving the Princess at the top of the steps, she watched Ben mount up his motorbike and speed off with an army of staff behind him. This left the castle unusually quiet, and Audrey placed both hands on her hips as she exhaled deeply.

“Babysitting duty,” She scoffed under her breath, tipping her head to rub the place between her eyes, “what a world this is.”

Once upon a time, Audrey would’ve been invited to the Royal Picnic. Naturally though, after her little stint with Maleficent’s Scepter, things had been a bit rocky with the other royal families in Auradon. She was shielded from the gossip by spending the Summer in Beast’s Castle, while her Mum, Dad and Grammy patched things up in Auroria with broad, fantastic strokes. But she still caught wind of the whispers going around. None of them pleasant.

Turning and walking back into the castle, Audrey closed the door with a shallow BANG, and rattling echo. She walked towards the kitchen, still trying to soothe the headache she already felt coming on. Of all the people in the Castle, Audrey was the favorite target for devilish pranks. The VKids were little brats, running around like they owned the place and being spoiled rotten by Evie. And though Dizzy could be sweet on her own, she was Celia’s right hand minion when push came to shove.

Grumbling nonsense under her breath, Audrey swept by the island towards the fridge. Here, a scrawled note in Evie’s hand lay stuck under a magnet. It wasn’t just instructions; it was an entire schedule of things to do.

“These kids live better then I do,” Audrey mumbled, raising an eyebrow at some of the items Evie had listed.

Bake Cookies

Croquet on the Lawn

Movie Marathon

Run Baths

Bedtime Story

“Bedtime story?” Audrey mumbled with a scoff, “you’ve got to be kiddi-EEK!”

Audrey leapt up with a shriek as something cold was dropped down the back of her dress. Shaking herself hard to dislodge the ice cube from lace and satin, Audrey groaned in frustration as she whipped around. Celia and Dizzy were on the floor, holding their tummies as they laughed. The Twins were peeking in through the doorway, not laughing but staring at her like she’d take their heads off.

“You little brats!” Audrey hissed, “get off the floor. Front and center,”

“We don’t take orders from you, old hag.” Celia cackled, rolling over onto her stomach, “why aren’t you at the Picnic? Didn’t get invited?”

“As a matter a fact I didn’t,” Audrey seethed through her teeth, “so now, I’m stuck here watching you four,”

“Awe what!” Celia complained, finally getting back to her feet and brushing off her skirt, “but Evie had a big day planned.”

“Yeah well, Evie’s not here,” Audrey hissed, holding up the list in her hand and waving it around, “and I’m not interested in catering to your every desire. So you can just forget about that,”

“You’re kinda mean,” Dizzy complained.

“You just put an ice cube down my dress, scared me out of my skin, and now you expect me to play nice? I don’t think so,” Audrey hissed, tearing up the list in her hands and tossing it on the counter. Turning to the twins, she pointed at them, “you two, in here with me. We’re gonna have a chat,”

Hesitantly, the blondes scuttled in. Four VKids now faced off with a very peevish Princess, the girl placing both hands on her hips with an animalistic huff, “alright, twerps. Here’s how this is gonna go. I don’t really care what you do. Go hide in your rooms, watch TV all day, play with swords in the armory, whatever. Just leave me out of it unless someone’s dying,”

“What will you be doing?” Celia asked, “plotting to curse Ben and Mal’s first child?”

Both Ceila and Dizzy sniggered behind their hands as Audrey clenched a fist tightly.

“I really hate children,” she managed under her breath, folding her hands together as though in prayer, “listen, I don’t like you, and you don’t like me. I get that, and I’m really quite reasonable. So just stay away from me, and you can do whatever you want. Kapeesh?”

Four pairs of eyes blinked up at her in confusion as Audrey rolled her eyes and translated, “do you understand?”

“Yeah, we understand,” Celia nodded, glancing at her companions before pinning Audrey with a hard stare, “but we want waffles for dinner.”

“Deal.”

“And we want to watch an R rated movie!” Dizzy added as Audrey lifted a brow but shrugged. If it kept the little monsters away from her, it was worth the risk.

“Fine. Anything else? You two?”

Glancing at the twins, the blondes shook their heads quickly as Audrey clapped her hands together and sighed in relief.

“Great. I’ll be out by the pool enjoying what’s left of today. You stay in here and do whatever, and we’ll be peachy. Kay?”

Nodding in agreement, Audrey turned and walked from the kitchen. Changing into her favorite bikini and hat, the Princess found her way to the pool a little while later. Not trusting the water — lest Celia put dye in it that would make her skin turn blue — Audrey found a comfortable spot on a lawn chair and dropped the sunglasses down over her eyes. For a while, the world was peaceful. But Audrey should’ve known better then to trust the VKids word on anything.

While she slept, Celia managed to drop a scorpion on her from the upper balcony. Where she had even gotten such a thing, Audrey wasn’t sure. But it pinched her fair skin a few times before she was able to knock it away, causing horrible red welts to form. Upon running inside, she slipped and fell on oil that had been lift on the marble and slammed back first into a suit of armor. There was laughter above her on the stairway, but Audrey was to busy rubbing the long cut which she now had on her forehead from the fall to notice.

It was an afternoon of one vicious prank after another. From simply stealing her clothes while she was showering, to locking her in a broom closet which they had somehow tricked her into, it was constant pain and torment. Her own little hell on earth. By the time dusk was falling, Audrey was exhausted and in pain. Her head ached from a possible concussion, and her stomach burned with the scorpion stings. Her mouth tasted a bit like ash from the Alo-Vera gel Dizzy managed to spread on her sandwich while she wasn’t looking. And she just wanted to close her eyes and sleep.

Thankfully, after putting the movie on and shoving plates piled with waffles into the kids hands, the terrible two had shut up. The film was long over now, and Audrey assumed the four had made their way to bed. She herself was trying and failing to sleep when the slow open of her door made her heart still. Not another prank. She couldn’t handle any more today.

“...Audrey?” Dizzy whispered. Ignoring the girl in hopes she’d simply go away, Audrey winced as her shoulder was gently tapped, “Audrey, are you awake?”

“...I am now,” the Princess groaned, rolling over to face the VKid. Dizzy was haloed in the hall light, but Audrey could see the tears streaming down her face and what appeared to be a book in her arms. Sitting up slightly, Audrey’s brows furrowed, “hey, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep,” Dizzy croaked, “I had a nightmare,”

“A nightm-” pausing, Audrey sighed and nodded, “from the movie I bet.”

“It was really scary,” Dizzy whimpered.

“Ok. And what would you like me to do?” Audrey asked, not entirely sure how to proceed. After all, when she was young and couldn’t sleep, she never went to mum or Grammy. They just sent her back to her room with a sleepy grunt and a ‘go back to sleep, Audrey’, and that was it. Comforting a scared child wasn’t something she did, let alone something she ever had experience with.

“Can you read me a story?” Dizzy asked, “I found a book in the library.”

Glancing at the clock, it was only about midnight as Audrey rubbed her face tiredly and nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, fine. Go turn on the light,”

“Is it ok if the twins listen, to?” Dizzy asked, crossing the room to the light as Audrey sat up.

“You aren’t planning on waking them just to hear a story, are you?”

“No, they’re already here.”

At being mentioned, two blonde heads in night caps glanced around the doorway.

“Ah, I see,” Audrey rasped, “well come on then. Might as well read to everyone,”

At the invitation, two short bullets zipped like mice across the carpet and landed on the mattress with a PHOOPH. Dizzy followed after, climbing to sit next to Audrey on her right side as she handed over the book.

“Where did you even find this thing,” Audrey asked, blowing dust from the beautiful embossed cover, “it’s ancient,”

“I dunno. It was on one of the bottom shelves,” Dizzy shrugged, “so what’s it about?”

“A book of fairytales,” Audrey told her, reading the inscription on the first page, “this book, bequeathed to Beast and Belle on their wedding day. May it find you well.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Glancing up at the new voice, Celia leaned in the doorway. Though she appeared casual and unbothered, Audrey could see the dark circles under her eyes, meaning the movie probably got to her as well, despite her facade of bravado.

“It was a wedding gift,” Audrey told her, “come to hear the story?”

“I thought you weren’t interested in that kind of thing,” Celia grumbled, though she made her way towards the bed anyway and crawled up to sit on Audrey’s other side. The twins laid across her legs, blinking up at her with sapphire colored irises.

“Well, one small story won’t hurt. Despite all the torture you put me through today.”

Celia said nothing to this as Audrey turned back to the book, flipping the page to the first story: Little Red Riding Hood.

“Once upon a time,” Audrey began, “in a wood not unlike this one, a little girl in a red cloak was making her way to her grandmothers house...”

#disney descendants #descendants #descendants fanfiction #audrey rose #celia facilier #dizzy tremaine #smee twins #fairy tales #storybook

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wwitbeyondmeasure · 4 years

Text

Summer at the Burrow / r.w. fan fiction

Previous Chapters

Introduction / Author’s Note / Chapter 1: The Journey to the Burrow / Chapter 2: Hidden Letters / Chapter 3: Ron’s Return / Chapter 4: Nighttime Conversations / Chapter 5: A Morning Surprise / Chapter 6: The Quidditch Match / Chapter 7: Girl Talk / Chapter 8: Aphrodite’s Push / Chapter 9: Mistakes and Love Potions

Chapter 10: You Would be Fine

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all the love and support for this fic, it means so much to me :) Get prepared because this chapter is a lengthy one (about 4,200 words I think...oops). Also, the gif has nothing to do with the chapter I just thought Ron looked really cute lol. Okay anyways enjoy!!!

You were fine. Really you were.

Every time Hermione or Ginny gave you a concerned look while passing, you could easily plaster on an "I'm-good-everything-is-good-thanks-for-asking" smile onto your face.

In reality though, your heart hurt ever damn day.

About 2 weeks ago, Ron broke your heart. Under the oak tree outside, he told you that whatever happened between you was a mistake. Mistake. So instead of moping around for the rest of your summer vacation, you tried to be happy. During the day time you would laugh and joke with the Weasleys, help make meals, finish your school work, and do chores. But at night is when you finally let yourself feel your heartbreak. Once everyone fell asleep, you would creep down the stairs and sit underneath the oak tree, and cry.

It was therapeutic, kind of. With each passing night, you felt better. Yes, it still hurt seeing Ron's freckled face every morning at breakfast. And it still made your skin and body ache when he accidentally brushed up next to you in the tight kitchen. But you were okay.

You knew that if you let Ron fully see how heartbroken you were, it would change the dynamic between you. You were best friends, and nothing more. No matter how much you loved him, that's all you would ever be. Instead of jeopardizing the friendship you had come to cherish so greatly, you simply suppressed your love for Ron so you could maintain it. And it was working, king of.

The night after your heartbreak at the oak tree, you started treating Ron exactly as you had before you came to the Burrow, before you had let your emotions run wild. He reciprocated this and before long, you were best friends again. You played Quidditch on each other's team, joked around with Fred and George, tried the newest Weasley Wizard Wheezes products (though you stayed away from the love potions), and played wizard's chess together. Although your heart still skipped a beat whenever Ron leaned closer to you, everything was back to normal with your best friend.

Over the past 2 weeks, you had been alternating between sleeping in Ginny's room for sleepovers, the bed in the attic, or the couch in the living room. Ron didn't offer his room to you again, which made you sad but you understood. If you were alone with him late at night when your emotions were high, your cover of "nope-i-don't-love-him-we-are-just-best-friends" was going out the window. So you stuck to your usual 3 beds.

That morning, you had awoken from the attic bed bright and early. Hermione had been getting the girls up at 8am for the past 2 weeks so that you could finish your school work early in the morning and have the rest of the day to relax. Although you hated her every morning for this, you were glad she had such a strict regimen because you had all finished your homework yesterday. Now, for the rest of the summer you were homework free.

By now you were so used to waking up early that it was no longer a surprise for anyone to see you help cook breakfast with Mrs Weasley. Besides Hermione, you two were usually the first awake and in the kitchen right away. This morning was no different as you padded down the creaky wooden steps into the kitchen.

"Good morning Mrs Weasley," you greeted her, tying an apron around your waist. There were four aprons in the Weasley house; a floral one designated for Mrs Weasley, a dark blue one for Mr Weasley when he would attempt to use a muggle grill, a plain white one for whoever decided to help cook, and a yellow one with stars for you. Mrs Weasley even spelled your name, y/n, on the edge in elegant cursive.

"For my newest child," she has said when she showed it to you. She pinched your cheeks, the way she did with all of her kids, and the action almost made you tear up. You threw your arms around her in a tight hug and thanked her profusely.

Mrs Weasley smiled approvingly at you as you started on the breakfast. As the usual morning rhythm took place, you cherished the routine of cracking the eggs, putting them in pans, flipping them, and then doing the same thing again and again.

But soon, Mrs Weasley's voice broke the silence. "Sweetheart, what happened with Ron?" she asked.

Your head snapped up from the frying pan, your eyes meeting Mrs Weasley's. She looked at you with motherly concern, and for some reason you couldn't look at her loving face and lie to her.

"I don't think he feels the same way that I do about him," you stated, turning your attention back to cooking.

Mrs Weasley huffed. "Well, my son has never been the sharpest boy, as you know," she said. You giggled, though you were still sad, and she smiled at you. "Maybe things will change honey," she told you, "love happens unexpectedly."

Before you got the chance to reply, thundering footsteps sounded from the staircase. You whipped your head around to see the twins barreling down the steps, practically tripping over one another in their hurry.

"Where's the fire?" you asked.

Fred ran across the room, picked you up around the waist, and spun you around.

"Percy's home! His work is called off for the week because of his birthday!" He shouted excitedly. You laughed, swatting at him with your spatula until he set you down.

"I didn't know you two were so excited to see your brother," Mrs Weasley noted, fixing her sons with a stern and skeptical stare.

"Oh mother, we're not," George replied.

"We're excited to mess with him for a week straight," Fred added with the largest grin you had ever seen.

As soon as the words left his mouth, more of a promise than anything else, the front door swung open and in entered the most prestigious Weasley of the house. With his rigorous work schedule, you hadn't seen Percy once this entire summer. But now, here he was, standing in the kitchen in a three piece suit with a pocket watch and shiny black shoes at 8 in the morning.

"Hi Percy," you said, trying your best not to laugh at the long tail of his suit coat.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Fred asked, his face shocked as he took in Percy's outfit. George's face was bright red as he held in his laughter.

"This," Percy said, unironically spinning so everyone could see his outfit, "Is traditional Muggle-wear. As I climb higher in the Ministry's success ladder, sometimes I have to encounter Muggles, so I must dress accordingly. This particular suit was a gift from one of my many clients."

He turned to you and you tried to wipe the teasing smile off your face. "Y/n, this is what muggles wear to their jobs, isn't it?" he asked.

You schooled your features into seriousness. "Oh yes," you responded, "definitely."

At that moment, Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione stumbled down the stairs, looking like they had just woken up. Everyone stayed up late last night playing nighttime Quidditch (an especially difficult yet fun game considering the fact that you can't see the bludgers because of how dark it is).

Ron froze when he saw Percy standing in the kitchen, his shoes so shiny they were reflecting the kitchen lights into the eyes of anyone who looked at them.

"Bloody hell, what happened to your clothes?" he asked incredulously. Him and Harry shared a look and then burst out in laughter.

Percy's ears turned pink at the tips as he huffed before sitting down in one of the chairs around the kitchen table. You and Mrs Weasley decorated the center of the table with plate after plate of delicious warm breakfast food. Proud of your hard work, you took off your apron and sat down next to Percy.

Ron sat down next to you as the others joined the table.

"For your information, Ronald, your girlfriend says my clothes are the proper Muggle attire," Percy said, glaring at his little brother.

"She's not my girlfriend," Ron responded, his ears turning pink now too.

"How's Penelope?" you asked Percy before you could let yourself get too caught up in the fact that you really wanted Ron's response to that question to be different.

Percy smiled at the mention of his longtime girlfriend, who had been a Prefect at Hogwarts with him. "Oh she's fantastic," Percy said before launching into a long-winded story about Penelope's latest project she was working on at the ministry. Words such as "top-secret" "highly important" and "imperative job" floated past your ears.

Ron leaned closer to you and mumbled in your ear, "I wish you hadn't asked him that."

"Me too," you whispered back, giggling behind your hand.

As breakfast began, you were proud of all the compliments you received on your cooking. Waking up early to cook with Mrs Weasley was a part of the day you always looked forward too, and the compliments only made you feel better about it.

After everyone finished eating, and cleared their plates, chairs scraped against the wood of the floor as everyone prepared to go about their daily business.

"Wait!" Percy shouting, using his wand to spell everyone back into their chairs. "Nobody leave this table until we discuss my birthday party details."

Theses past few weeks your brain had been so focused on Ron that you had forgotten Percy's huge birthday party that was taking place at the Burrow next week. From the guilty expressions of everyone else around the table, you could tell they had forgotten too.

"I want this party to be perfect," Percy said. "My bosses are coming to this party, as is Penelope, so I will not tolerate any shenanigans." He fixed his eyes on the twins and gave them an icy glare. "I mean it, no funny business."

Fred and George saluted him, shouting "yes mother" before jumping out of their chairs and running to their room. A memory flashed in your head from the beginning of summer. The twins were showing you fireworks in their room, "special fireworks for Percy's party" they had said. There was definitely going to be some shenanigans taking place.

Increasingly interested about what kind of pranks the twins were going to pull on Percy, you excused yourself from the table and followed them upstairs. You were about to knock on their door before it swung open and Fred dragged you inside.

"Can I have a sneak peek?" you asked them giddily as soon as the door closed behind you. Apart from the twins, you were the most excited about their funny products and pranks they always pulled. You knew Percy's party wasn't going to disappoint.

Instead of reciprocating your excitement, the twins traded nervous glances.

"What is it?" you asked them. You felt a strange sense of deja vu to the time when they picked you up to drive you to the Burrow in the beginning of summer. They were hiding something from you then, and they were certainly hiding something from you now.

"So we take it you're not going to tell Ron about your unconditional love for him anytime soon?" George asked, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish expression on his face. Fred was ringing his hands nervously next to him.

"That is correct," you responded flatly.

"Well, you see," Fred began, "When we ordered these special fireworks for Percy's party, we assumed you two would be dating and in love by the time of the party. And the thing is, there's no refunds on the fireworks, so we kind of have to use them." He spoke so fast that the words were tumbling together in your head.

"Okay...what does that mean? What do the fireworks have to do with Ron and I?" you asked, getting increasingly more upset by the moment.

The twins must have sensed your anger because they traded a quick glance before assuring you "Okay, never mind, love, everything is under control," Fred promised.

"Yep, totally under control," George said, steering you out of the room. You didn't even register what they were saying before you were standing in the hallway.

"What aren't you telling me?" you asked, eyes narrowing into a glare at the twins.

They both gulped nervously.

"Don't worry about it, y/n, everything is fine. Percy's party will be full of lots of laughs and fun," Fred promised, before promptly shutting the door in your face. Once again, you got deja vu.

And with that, you left the twins room, feeling even more confused about your relationship with Ron than ever.

...

The next week was frantic, hectic, and insane as you all scrambled to prepare for Percy's big party. Decorations needed to be made, food needed to be cooked, and you totally forgot to get Percy a present. After a day trip to Diagon Alley, you had returned home with a bag of more owl food for Dite and a magical watch for Percy. Despite all of the high energy and excitement in the house, the twins words still weighed on you. The party was quickly approaching and you had yet to "confess your unconditional love" to Ron. What would happen if you didn't? You didn't even want to think about it.

It was the night before Percy's party, and you were in the garden helping Bill string up lights around the outdoor tables. You and Bill had been spending a lot more time together over the past week. Bill had always opted to help you in whatever decoration or cooking you were tasked with for that day. Although you could tell that made Ron grumpy, you tried to ignore it. Your feelings were confusing enough without trying to unpack Ron's jealousy at the moment.

You wobbled on the chair you were standing on as you tied the last string of lights around the nearest tree branch. After you finished, you put your hands on your hips and took a look around the garden. It looked amazing. 10 tables were arranged in a neat circle around the yard, completed with white table clothes and centerpieces with Percy's photo in the middle. You bought a couple packs of muggle Christmas lights to hang from the trees to illuminate the area, which Mr Weasley was very happy about. He spent about 2 hours asking you about the mechanics behind muggle electricity.

There was a long table for the buffet to be served at and a short circular table for Percy's gifts to be placed on. At the corner of the garden the twins had set up a firing booth for the fireworks. To be totally honest, the decoration fit more for a wedding than a birthday party, but Percy wanted things to be perfect, so the family followed his decoration ideas to a tee.

While being distracted by observing your handiwork, you weren't really paying attention to what was happening behind you. This was unfortunate because Harry and Ron were practicing disarming charms right behind you.

"Y/n, look out!" you heard someone yell behind you. Whipping around towards the voice, you saw a red ball of sparks sailing towards you from the end of Harry's wand. How did Harry always manage to accidentally attack you?

You dove from your chair to avoid the sparks, and were fully expecting to land roughy in the grass. Instead, you felt strong arms wrap around you to prevent you from hitting the ground. You looked up to see none other than Bill Weasley as your knight in shining armour.

"Thanks," you said quietly.

Bill didn't let his arms drop from around you.

"Anytime," he replied with a grin. His arms were still wrapped around you when you heard angry footsteps marching towards you.

"Get your hands off her, you prat," you heard Ron's voice say. Bill's arms dropped from your sides as you both turned to face Ron.

"Calm down, Ron," Bill told him.

Ron glared at his older brother. "Stop flirting with her, she's my best friend," he said sternly.

Your heart hurt. You wanted Ron to be jealous because he liked you, not because you were just his best friend.

"He can flirt with me if he wants." The words were out of your mouth before you could even filter it.

Ron's gaze snapped towards you and you almost had to take a step back from their intensity. "Do you want him to?" He asked you, his voice strained.

The answer was easy. No. You knew you didn't want Bill to flirt with you. He had been your first crush and he was beyond attractive, but he wasn't Ron. The only person you wanted was Ron. You said those words not because you wanted Bill, but because you wanted Ron to stop acting possessive if he didn't even love you back. It just hurt too much for him to act like your boyfriend if he was never going to be.

"Ron, I'm sorry," Bill said, mediating the situation. "I know you and y/n have something together, I shouldn't have overstepped. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

It won't happen again.

That's exactly what Ron told you after the night he had taken the love potion. The night that made you believe that maybe he did have the same feelings for you. But in the end, he regretted the moment that you had loved so much.

It won't happen again.

Tears crowded your vision and you tried your best to blink them away, you were not about to cry in front of him and show him just how much power he had over you and your emotions. But soon there were hot tears slipping down your cheeks and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Bill and Harry exchanged nervous glances as you and Ron just continued staring at each other. They both took a couple steps away to give you and Ron the space you needed to hash things out. Ron was breathing heavily, obviously still angry from the flirting between you and his brother. But you were angry too, angry that he didn't want you the way you wanted him.

"I don't want you flirting with my brother," he said, his intense gaze never leaving yours.

You rolled your eyes, "It's not your choice if I do."

Ron bristled at your comment, taking another step closer to you. You could practically feel the heat and anger radiating off of him.

"You know, you've really been pissing me off these past couple weeks," he said. "You prance around making breakfast in the mornings, but in reality all you're doing is trying to get with Bill. It's so fucking frustrating! I'm your best friend, we were supposed to be together every day you visited, but instead you found someone better to spend your time with."

God, he was thick. You told him that.

"I'm not trying to get with Bill, you dumb git!" you shouted back. Why couldn't he see that he was the only one you wanted. Bill hadn't even crossed your mind this summer, your heart was too full of Ron as it is.

At this point, you were practically nose to nose with him, your shouting words bringing you closer and closer towards each other.

Ron mimicked you from earlier and rolled his eyes. It was beyond infuriating. You set your jaw and clenched your hands as you tried not to yell more.

"Oh of course you're not. You just spend every waking moment with him and barely hang out with me, but sure you're not trying to get with him," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Now it was your turn to get angry. "Oh really? I'm the one to blame right now?" You shouted at him. The words were hot rolling off your tongue.

"You're the one who treats me so poorly! You cuddle me in your bed, and then run out the next morning. You almost kiss me and then act like it didn't happen! You told me what happened in your room was a mistake," the last sentence flew out of you, the anger just boiling and boiling up towards your breaking point.

Even though you knew it wouldn't do you any good, you kept talking. "Don't you dare try to put blame on me for this summer going to shit, because it's not my fault Ron! It's not my fault you're jealous of Bill, it's not my fault things aren't the same between us, and it's not my fault you don't love me back!"

Both of you froze as the words left your mouth. You wanted Ron to say something, needed him to say something, but he remained silent. You couldn't read his emotions and it was going to drive you crazy.

Ron stared at you, his eyes full to the brim with turbulent emotions that you couldn't read. All he did was shake his head.

"I don't want you with Bill," he finally said.

"You're not my boyfriend! You've made that perfectly clear!" You shouted back, your voice cracking halfway through the sentence.

Ron raked his hands through his messy hair, obvious frustrated. "If I were your boyfriend..." he started. "If I were your boyfriend... I wouldn't...." He glanced up at you and the words stopped forming at his mouth. You had tear streaks on your face and your eyes were still watery. The look of you must have shaken him too much for him to continue speaking.

"But you're fucking not! So stop acting like you are, because it hurts too much," you responded, all the fire gone from your argument. Instead it was replaced with a sad silence, the only sounds were the rustle in the tree branches and your occasional sniffle.

"I never meant to hurt you," he said, taking a step closer with his hand out to you, almost like he was thinking of reaching out to you.

You couldn't do this. You couldn't stay there, letting him reach out to touch you. It was clear he didn't love you back, so you couldn't stay and let him hold you when there wasn't any hope. You backed away from him, shaking your head as tears continued to fall down your cheeks.

"You did. You do," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. If not for Ron's body suddenly becoming stiff, you would have thought he didn't hear you.

"Y/n, please..." he began, but no words followed. You shook your head again before turning and running back inside to the Burrow.

Nobody moved when you entered the dimly lit house. The family was sitting around the crackling fire, chatting with one another. But all talk stopped as soon as you entered.

Hastily wiping the tears from your eyes, you tried to make yourself presentable.

"Sweetheart," Mrs Weasley said with that loving tone of hers only a mother could have, "are you alright?"

You nodded, despite the fact that you knew none of them believed you.

"I'm just a little tired is all, I think I'm going to head up to bed," you said, before climbing the stairs as quickly as possible.

As soon as you entered your makeshift room in the attic, you slammed the door shut behind you. You couldn't even make it to the bed before you crumbled onto the ground, your back pressed against the door. Drawing your knees up to your chest, you buried your head in your arms and let yourself cry.

Sobs racked your body as you replayed the conversation from outside. Ron didn't want you. He didn't love you back. He was angry and jealous, but he still didn't love you back.

You stayed there, pressed against the door for the next hour. Everyone headed up to bed at some point and Hermione and Ginny came to check on you. They explained how Harry told them about what happened outside but you just asked them to let you be alone for now. Being the good friends they are, they listened to your request, but not before Ginny promised to "beat Ron to a pulp for hurting you" the next morning.

Even Harry came to check on you. He was visibly uncomfortable, crying girls were never his strong suit (as you could remember from his first kiss with Cho Chang) but he still managed to give you a comforting hug. You thanked him and he left almost as quickly as he arrived. You got ready for bed in a trance, your eyes now swollen from the crying. Slipping on your pajamas, you barely noticed you were throwing on the vintage band shirt Ron had gotten you for a gift earlier. This only made you cry more. Dite landed on your shoulder as you lay in your bed. She affectionately pecked your ear and nuzzled her feathers against your cheek.

"I'm okay, Dite," you told her, petting her soft feathers. Your fingers traced the black heart on her head. Ron bought you an owl named Aphrodite, with a heart literally on her feathers, but he couldn't even tell you he loved you. These mixed signals made your head and heart both throb.

You fell asleep fitfully, waking up every couple of hours and tossing and turning in bed. Tomorrow was Percy's party, and you had to be okay for it. You couldn't let Ron know just how much he had hurt you. You would be fine tomorrow. You would be fine, just like you had been these past few weeks. You would be fine.

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jjk-biased · 4 years

Text

youtuber! jungkook x youtuber! reader

crack! social media au

genre: fluff, crack, some angst

chapter summary: after somehow placing 2nd overall on OGN's e-sports festival, jin fulfills his bet by taking you and your friends to lotte world for a hopefully stress-free and peaceful day.

words: 1.8k (cannot be read as standalone)

warnings: aside from cussing, none!

24. unsaid feelings

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The fireworks painted the dark sky with bright hues of red and blue. And while it could be the most beautiful view they've ever seen, Jungkook would beg to differ.

You were his prettiest view. The way your eyes would twinkle at each spark. How bright your smile would become as the glitters danced in the sky. The way your delicate hand encased in his would tighten at each exciting moment.

You were breathtaking.

Jungkook had long since ceased watching the show. He instead chose to observe your reactions to it with a dumb smile on his face. It was adorable. You were adorable.

Finally feeling his gaze on you, you found yourself turning red. Your eyes met his, then you two leaned closer.

and closer

and closer.

Until your lips were a few centimeters apart.

As the last and greatest firework exploded, you two ki—

“WAKE THE HELL UP YOU DORKS!!!”

for fucks’ sake.

Laughter rang throughout the living room as Jungkook fell from the couch. They all slept at Namjoon’s house once again after the e-sports festival had ended and it extended until today. Like how the first sleepover turned out, everyone fell asleep in the living room.

“Noisy much, Jin?” You grumble, also waking up from Jin’s morning call.

“If we wanna enjoy Lotte World and get there early, y’all shoulda been up and about.”

“IT’S ONLY 7 AM WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”

Hoseok, who somehow already had an immense amount of energy, cackled at you and Jungkook’s state. The others wordlessly began to wash their faces, some opted to help Jin with breakfast.

After a long time of preparing, the rambunctious group of friends finally went on their trip to Lotte World.

Unbeknownst to you and Jungkook, however, the little shits had planned something that you’re not sure whether to be thankful of or angry at.

Jungkook had finally admitted to everyone else, while you were fast asleep on the floor in between Namjoon and Hoseok, that he had been harboring a genuine liking towards you. He had gone to sleep not long after, and that was when Taehyung began to brew plans to give him a little push.

It’s been awhile since you’ve gone to any amusement park, so you had a child-like wonder painted on your face when everyone went in. It was absolutely adorable to say the least and even if Jungkook was unable to say it out loud, his dopey grin was enough.

You all thought it was a good idea to start the peaceful day with death disguised as rollercoasters. You’re sure you know who wanted everyone to die so early in the day, the terrified looks of all but one little shit told you more than you need to know.

“Do we really have to do what he says?” You grumble as Jungkook basks in his success.

“Might as well do it now when the line isn’t as long…” Yoongi trailed off, slowly losing the confidence he had stored in when he heard the shrieks of the people.

Luck might not be with you today when everyone scrambled to sit at the safest parts of the cart— which is everywhere but the first row. Moreover, the only person left to sit with you was none other than the idiot responsible for your demise that day.

“Hurry up pumpkin, you’re so slow!”

Whatever retort you wanted to throw was shoved in your throat when the staff secured your death seat.

“Aw is little pumpkin scared?”

“For the last time, jungleboy, I am nOT LI— FUCK THIS RIDE AAAAAH”

To say the least, your luck took a vacation and left you to suffer with Jungkook and the others.

Everyone decided to eat lunch after that traumatizing event. Namjoon and Jin were scouting for a place to eat, Hoseok and Yoongi decided to look for food choices, and that left you with the three youngest idiots of your idiot group to explore the rigged booths.

There was a shooting game where you just had to knock over the pyramid of cans to get the fluffiest alpaca ever. And while you’ve ingrained it in your mind that these games are scams, the child in you couldn’t resist wanting to win one because 1) alpaca soft 2) alpaca big.

Jungkook wasn’t an idiot— dear lord, someone tell him — or at least he could tell the meaning of your longing stare towards the cute alpaca plush.

With a sigh, he stopped you from doing one of the most dramatic “goodbyes” ever to an alpaca plush and tried for the game.

“Step right up, mister! Win anything in this booth for your girlfriend for the small price of ₩5,000!”

“Oh, w-we aren’t— he isn’t,” you pathetically denied. It seemed you were the only one who got embarrassed though because Jungkook didn’t deny anything.

He did it with so much ease that even the staff was left speechless at his show. Maybe it was the alpaca he gave you talking, but damn did butterflies erupt in your tummy. He looked so cool shooting the cans with so much focus. To think he spent money and did so just for you, you were sure your heart melted (and it wasn’t because of the heat!!)

You thought the funny feeling would die down after.

Boy were you wrong.

Time after time after time again, he never failed to make you feel giddy inside.

When the two of you were paired up for this horror house, he never made you feel embarrassed. He instead offered his arm to you, even going as far as wrapping said arm around you so you could find refuge in him when a particular bit scares you more. Poor boy was too flustered from the entire ordeal to even notice some of the scarers.

Then there was this time where he cheered out of glee when you won from one of the booths. (you two used Jin’s money though lmao) He had complimented you endlessly on how “great you were, pumpkin!”

Though he’d often tease you about your shorter stature, he lets you use him as a shade from the harsh sunlight. It was a small but nice gesture.

Everyone else retreated to the restrooms after thinking it was a good idea to drink a lot before going to the teacups ride. The look on their faces was a memory you’ll never forget.

You two sat on one of those benches nearby and began to talk about random things— ramens and gaming included. Jungkook received a text from Jimin saying that the lines were too long and they could roam around while waiting.

“How about we go to those souvenir shops? I wanna buy something now before it gets too crowded,” You suggested, pointing to the array of stores.

“I don’t mind that, let’s go!” He cheered, taking hold of your hand (you don’t know if he’s aware of that or not but it made you red).

The next hour was spent trying on dorky thingamajigs and whatnot. After trying on a pair of funny specs, you decided it was time to go back to checking out rides.

The sun had begun to set and pink hues scattered through the sky. It allowed for a more calm and serene mood to set in as you two walked, your arms linked, and roamed around the parks (as well as trying to ignore the bustling noise of happy kids and crying babies lmfao)

Ramen, that was the name of the alpaca Jungkook won for you, was safely tucked in his arms. You, on the other hand, were busy munching on the popcorn that Jungkook bought (it was supposed to be for himself but you had your ways)

You probably didn’t hear whatever was going around, too busy eating his popcorn to care, but Jungkook heard every murmur people threw your way. Admittedly, he wished that you two were actually a couple like the little kid said

He wasn’t sure how it began. You two started on a rather weird meeting— with you mocking his so-called fifth grader level skills in Overwatch to him replying rather pettily to win the argument. Somewhere down the line, you two actually had common friends and were forced to meet. That was the moment he was taken aback by you.

Well honestly, he was always taken aback.

You were witty; always had comebacks ready to deploy for every remark he had. You were skilled; not only a master at time management for balancing college life with your career, but also great at gaming. You were kind-hearted; though your verbal jabs were piercing, he knew you meant no harm.

You were too good for this world.

So when he had scared you, rather unintentionally, with a horror game, he regretted it so much. But to be honest, he was also thankful for that day. God knows he probably wouldn’t have had the chance to “restart” how he treated you if he hadn’t fucked up.

You probably didn’t notice how his teasing now focused more on the thought of you with him. While he isn’t the best at conveying romantic feelings, he was absolutely fluent in memes.

Thank god for memes.

But at some point, he does have to tell you what’s going on. He can’t stay in this weird space with you— somewhere between friends who fight and friends who flirt. With a shaky sigh, he decided today was the day.

As if the universe were with him, you then finally noticed his silence. It was heart-warming to see concern in your pretty face when you took note of the unusual quietness.

“Are you okay, kook?”

Like a goldfish out of water, he opened his mouth then closed it again.

Fuck, it was harder than he thought.

Thousands of thoughts went through his head. Will you take him seriously? Will you stop being friends? Will you hate him for the feelings he harbored?

Every negative thought disappeared at the sound of your amused laugh.

He reminds himself why he liked you so much and gathers little courage to speak out his mind.

This is it.

Oh my god, this is it.

“Y/N, I have something to tell you…” He trailed off, now facing her properly. (poor Ramen was being squeezed to death)

You became nervous. Did he notice my staring? Holy shit is he gonna tell me I’m weird?

“I think I li—”

“Y/N!”

Internally groaning at yet another interruption, Jungkook turned to whoever decided to call you out. It was a guy, definitely older than you. He turned to you, silently questioning if you knew the intruder, and was surprised to see none of your cheery aura.

You were livid.

“Daniel Y/L/N.”

a/n: tumblr decided to be a bitch and didn't save every edit i made so this took awhile. also, #danielisoverparty and oops, y'all thought Daniel was an ex lmao ig i made him sound too ex-y 🤡

taglist: @armymaknae @rjsmochii @chogiyeol-utopia @deolly @liitlefaiiery @patpus @br0ther-s @borednia @tyraparker @ancailinaerach @tae165 @cherrycolababie @nininek12 @atulipandarose @hannahdinse8 @hereforaus @amoreguk @thewariestofheads @parkmaeri @thia-aep @diorhobii @seungcheoluwu @mipetronella @callmesenpaix @jungshookmeup @yoongisabby @parkchaeyoung1997 @alpaca1612 @bangtan-serendipity @karissassirak @fullsunkook @salty-for-suga @cholychi @smolbeaniejimin @netflix-batman-sleep @snickerdoodleeee @faeriegukkie @kpop4mysoul @crazylittlemay @theneighborhoodfangirl

permanent taglist: @luvinseokjinnie @97faerie

#bts x reader #bts #bts fake text #bts twitter au #jungkook fake twitter #jungkook fake text #jungkook x female reader #bts fake twitter #jungkook x reader #bts social media au #jungkook imagine #youtuber! reader #youtuber! jungkook x reader

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shattered-mirror-fanfic · 3 years

Photo

HAHAHA! I’M EARLY THIS TIME! Anyways, before you read: This is your warning about how in this chapter there’s mentions of child abuse, blood, death and scientific experiments on a child. You have been warned.

Ao3 Link: Chapter below cut for those who read it here on tumblr: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32206135/chapters/84899077

The walk home from school was dull as always, walking along the grey path, connected to a grey street, little color in the world. Despite being only six years old, Desdemona had many responsibilities, especially after their soul fully developed.

The routine was simple: walk home, get homework done, change clothing, get a snack, curl up on the couch with the snack, a blanket, and their favorite doll until their dad got home. Usually on Thursdays like this, Desdemona feared when their dad would get home because he would yell at them and have them turn off the tv and get in the car. This new addition only started when their mom disappeared. One day, at 3:20 when she was meant to get home, she didn’t show up. It wasn’t Des’s fault, they were only a child and their soul wasn’t even fully developed, they were only wondering what if’s, it shouldn’t be their fault that it became real.

No matter, they had other worries. They didn’t have any homework so they went straight up to their room, changing out of the light blue and white uniform shirt and white shorts into a comfortable black and white striped t-shirt and brown overalls instead. They grabbed a blanket and pink axolotl doll from their bed and went downstairs again. Before going into the living room, they popped into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of cheese puffs from the pantry that were hidden away at their height so their father couldn’t confiscate it. There weren't many of the puffs left so they took the bag with them. They went to the living room and climbed onto the grey couch, covering themself and their plushie with the blanket. They grabbed the discarded remote and turned on the tv, pressing random numbers until they got to the cartoon channel.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to an hour, and the front door slammed open as the episode faded to black.

“Turn that tv off right now! Get up and get in the car, traffic was held up enough already!” The tall man who entered had yelled. Desdemona hated their father on Thursdays, he was always so mean and would only let Desdemona eat stale animal crackers that tasted both bland and too sweet. Regardless, the child slid off the couch and went to the door, putting on some boots and grabbing their father’s hand to be led to the car.

They were set in a booster seat and buckled in with the stupid animal crackers and doll. Their father slammed the door shut and got in the drivers spot, driving off down the road to their destination.

Roughly twenty minutes had gone by when the car stopped outside of a large grey building located along a dirt path. Desdemona dreaded this place, there were no good people there, only mean men in big white coats. The place was bland and basically greyscale, no pictures or paintings anywhere, it was like a prison. Desdemona’s father led them to a room with only a bed, a few chairs, some counters and cabinets. Without instructions, Des hopped on the bed and waited, swinging their legs while their father sat in one of the folding chairs in the corner of the room. The child held their plushie tightly, letting their dirty blonde hair fall in front of their face, hearing only their father wishing for a normal child before three of the mean men in white coats came in and began their tests.

~~~

Souls develop in a human by the age of five, beforehand their souls are usually white, empty and still developing their traits. For Desdemona, their soul didn’t develop correctly, and by the time the trait showed itself, it was too late to guide their soul differently. It was malformed and full of hate and malice, the only things they were shown before, not an ounce of KINDNESS was present in soul tests, the only trait that had developed into a positive range was DETERMINATION, and even then, it was very weak, and couldn’t manage being the dominant trait on it’s own.

It was very rare for souls to be malformed, and even rarer to have all but one trait be malformed. Oddities like these seem to be caused from one parent having a malformed trait, which in Desdemona’s case, could be their father having malformed kindness, after all, he was a “businessman”. It could be possible for a soul to be malformed in another way, where all the traits exceed limits, the soul exhibits all traits to an extreme and displays all the traits equally among the heart. But this has only remained speculation.

~~~ “Des, wake up.” They heard their father say. There wasn’t a clock in the room, but even then, they knew it had been at least five hours since the doctors gave them the medication that put them to sleep. Desdemona sat up and saw their soul was exposed, it was black and inky, with a little dot of red on the side where a doctor most likely had injected raw determination into their soul to make it normal.

“Sorry dad, I’ll be better…” The child weakly said.

“Listen Des, I know you hate me, I’m just still upset about what you did to your mother.”

“I didn’t do anything! It’s not my fault!” Desdemona cried. Their dad sighed and picked them up and carried them to the car, putting them into their seat before settling into his own and beginning the drive home.

“We’re having mac and cheese again, and I want you to behave tomorrow and remember…”

“No showing my soul to anyone.”

“And if someone asks?”

“Say it’s determination and dodge other questions...”

“Good, sorry the tests ran a bit late, your soul is just needlessly complicated.”

The drive was boring as always, the sky was illuminated with the end of a sunset, but it wasn’t anything. Des fell asleep in their seat, only waking up when the car drove over a bump that jolted the end of it.

Tomorrow is another day.

~~~

Stepping onto the schoolyard was a chore, it was tedious, unnecessary, the educational systems flawed anyway, and yet it is still done because in our minds we believe that we would not make it anywhere without wasting time here. Desdemona wished they could just stay at home and learn from the internet where they only learn what’s necessary for a future career.

But, no, the elder gods demanded that all children (which is all people under 18) are required to attend hell to understand what awaits them if they step out of line. Unfortunately Desdemona was not one of the “gifted” ones that were made to believe that they were smart when in reality it’s just a facade to let the parents know which kid needs therapy before 16.

In reality, Desdemona was just standing paralyzed at the school gates, knowing nothing excited them. They were tired, full of hatred, and bored. They looked around, seeing all the happy friends playing chase and other games, no one was alone, this saddened the blonde child at the gate. Until a new face appeared next to them.

“Hi! Who are you?! Names [REDACTED]! What’s yours?!” A boy excitedly spoke. Desdemona stared at the white-haired boy, stunned. Someone wanted to talk to me?

"My name is Des...Desdemona."

"That's a cool name! Say friend, what's your soul trait? Mine's determination!" The boy continued to speak. Desdemona stared at [REDACTED] before answering.

"Determination...at least I think…"

"Well can I see?" Before Des could say no, the teacher came out and called the kids inside for class time. "Hey, we'll talk after class ok? Bye friend!" And the boy left. He was always interesting.

~~~

The school day was done in an instant, and Desdemona found themself walking back home. The clouds greying above, making the air cold and damp.

"Desdemona! You should wait here until your father can get you! It's going to be a downpour!" They heard the teacher cry. They were only a little out of the gate, so it probably was best to listen. They walked back to the roofed area that the teacher was under, along with their new friend [REDACTED]. "I'll call your dads, do you mind waiting here?"

Two shakes of the kids heads and she left.

"Hi Dessie! Can I see your soul now?" Desdemona's new friend asked. They were conflicted, but ultimately, they trusted [REDACTED]. They pressed and hand against their own chest and out popped the pitch black soul. "Wow! I haven't seen a soul like that before!"

"My dad doesn't like me showing my soul…"

"It's cool though! Don't feel bad!" The comment made Des smile, it was great to have a friend that accepts their oddities. The two talked about all sorts of child nonsense afterwards. About ten minutes had passed when the teacher came back out, her face was one of distress.

"Desdemona, your father will be here shortly, [REDACTED], I'll walk you to where your mother is, ok?" The kids nodded. They waited a few minutes until a car pulled up and out stepped Desdemona’s father carrying an open umbrella.

“C’mon Des, I have to take care of paperwork before eight.”

“Dad! Can my friend come over? Please?” The blonde child asked, running up to their father.

“What?! N-...fine, whatever keeps you happy, but you know the rules. Ma’am, is that ok?” The grown man asked, directing his attention to the teacher.

“Well, I would have to inform [REDACTED]’s mother, but if she agrees, then it’s fine.” The teacher responded. Desdemona smiled and ran back to give [REDACTED] a hug while the teacher pulled out her phone again.

~~~

The ride home wasn’t dull for once, this time, it was fun! Desdemona and their friend sat and chatted the whole time, talking about the most random of things. When they finally got home, Des bolted upstairs to change into their usual after school clothes as fast as they could so they could get back to their friend. They could talk and play for the rest of their short lives the whole night! It was so much fun, and it was only sunset when Des’s father said that [REDACTED] had to get ready to go home.

“Des, can I ask you something?” Their father asked, leading them to the kitchen while their friend was packing their bag still.

“Sure!” They had left the kitchen and went to the empty backyard with only a tree and some bushes.

“When did you think you could keep it a secret that you showed your friend your soul?” Des choked at the sentence.

“Father, I’m sorry, he didn’t tell anyone and no one else saw!” The child spoke, tears forming in their dark eyes.

“Well that’s where you’re wrong, as your teacher saw and informed me when she called to ask if I could come to pick you up.”

“Dad! I’m sorry! I’ll be better! I can make it up to you!”

“Too late, Desdemona.”

~~~

When [REDACTED] finished packing his bag, he slung it over his shoulder and looked around, not seeing their friend at all.

“Hey Dessie?! Where are you?!” He asked to the open room. I should investigate! And off he went, looking around in every room for their friend, he never saw them leave so who knows where they went! Only after going downstairs again and seeing his friend’s father walk into the kitchen from the backdoor with red hands, did [REDACTED] figure out where their friend was.

Into the back yard he went! Only after sneaking by Des’s father and opening the slightly ajar door, did his smile and his heart sank. There, laying on the ground in front of the willow tree, was Desdemona, unmoving, and in a puddle of a dark red liquid. [REDACTED] rushed over to kneel in front of their now deceased friend.

“Dessie...please wake up, why won’t you wake up?!” He shouted while tears formed in his eyes. “Dessie! Please! You’re my only friend! Why can’t you wake up?!” He shook his friend’s body and noticed the black soul, shattered in half. The boy grabbed it and held it close. “Please wake up! Please wake up! Please wake up!”

Then, the feeling of [REDACTED]’s skin being torn off in pieces hit, and he let out a sharp cry of pain. The shards of the black soul soared up and [REDACTED]’s red soul was drawn out. “I need you to wake up!”

Silence…

The screaming had stopped, the black soul was absorbing new determination provided by the red one. [REDACTED] fell onto his side and let his eyelids grow heavy.

The only other thing he could remember from that day were police sirens, an ambulance, and being paralyzed, forced to stare as his friend was covered in a white blanket, and carted off.

~~~

That was the last of Desdemona, a child born with a destiny to die at the hands of a cruel father just because they had an imperfect soul.

Not even time remembers the life it took, the only one who could remember the blonde child was the one with their soul. The boy grew up on a quest to bring back their once friend, no matter how much their hate and death corrupted them.

#shattered mirror #undertale #thsc #the henry stickmin collection #toppat recruits #post-pacifist ending #CrossOver #fanfic #fanfiction

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