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berenwrites · 9 months

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Beyond the Battle - Chapter 44 - Stranger Things - Steddie

Beyond the Battle: Action & Consequence

Click here for All Posted Chapters

Summary: Steve hits things with a bat or gets hit depending on who you ask. He definitely does not have anything to do with the psychic stuff. That is El’s domain. However, as Vecna is defeated, the rules change.

Pairing: steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Other Relationships: Steve & Robin, Steve & Dustin, Eddie & Dustin

Rating: Teen

A/N: Multi-chapter story, updated regularly. Honestly not sure how many chapters it will have yet because it's still a bit hand wavy in the middle, but definitely more than 12. Thank you to my beta for find my mistakes and to all those who read/like/reblog.💖 Follow #st:beyond-the-battle for updates.

Also on AO3

Chapter 44. Panic Over?

How he got through breakfast Steve would never know, especially after Robin appeared and kept giving him looks. Clearly, he was not doing as well as he thought, but it wasn’t like he could just ditch when there were guests in the house.

However, the moment breakfast was done, Steve hightailed it to his room with Robin and Eddie close behind. He sat on the bed, doing his best not to overthink himself into a hole.

“Okay, what am I missing?” Robin asked the moment his door was closed.

“I think my mom suspects about me and Eddie,” Steve blurted out as Eddie came and sat next to him.

“Holy crap,” Robin said, sitting down on his other side. “Are you okay? What did she say? Are you sure?”

“Steve, tell me if I’m reading this wrong, but I think she was trying to be supportive,” Eddie added.

Steve nodded.

“Well, that’s good,” Robin said, “that’s great … um … isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he replied, sounding kind of unsure.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want his mum knowing and being okay with it, it was just all the doubts crowding in the back of his head that were doing a number on him. What if they were wrong? What if his mom had just been talking and didn’t have a clue about him and Eddie? Too many what ifs.

“I think,” he added.

Robin took his hand.

“Tell me everything,” she said.

“Turns out I have lesbian aunts,” he said, because it was the first thing that leapt into his head.

Robin’s eyes went big and round and for a moment she looked like she might be having a heart attack.

“Well not actual aunts, but I’ve always called them Aunt Marie and Auntie Annie,” he explained. “God I am so stupid. I never … not even after you came out to me … it never occurred to me.”

“Stevie,” Eddie said, since Robin still seemed to be processing, “when we grow up believing something, we don’t always question it. Your mom literally said, they pretend to just be friends to a lot of people. When did you last see them?”

“About six years ago, I think,” he replied. “They came to visit. They stayed in separate rooms.”

“Yeah, well this is Indiana,” Robin said. “Safest for them, safest for you.”

“I hate they thought they had to hide it from me,” he said quietly, “and they were probably right.”

“No, stop right there,” Robin told him firmly. “I came out to you, and you were nothing but sweet.”

“Yeah, but that was after the Upside Down and Russians, that was after King Steve,” he pointed out.

“And that didn’t all just give you a personality transplant,” Robin insisted. “Maybe it made you think and reassess a few things, but you didn’t just become a different person. It would probably have shocked your socks off, but you wouldn’t have done anything bad.”

Her faith in him was gratifying, but he wasn’t sure he completely believed her. He might not have done anything deliberately, but he’d been a stupid kid. Getting drunk and blurting it all out to Tommy and Carol being one distinct possibility.

“She’s right,” Eddie said from his other side. “You were a bit of a dick at times, but you were never outright mean. If you had been an asshole like Billy Hargrove, I never could have fallen for you.”

“So, back to the point, you have lesbian kind-of-aunts and you mom brought them up at breakfast?” Robin asked.

Steve nodded and began to explain the whole backstory of breakups and girlfriends and falling in love, with Eddie adding in the odd comment.

“Yeah,” Robin said when he finally finished, “must agree with Eddie, I think that was your mom letting you know she’ll be there for you if there’s something you need to tell her. The whole ‘shining example of how love is always right’ part was about as subtle as a brick through a window.”

“So, what do I do?” he asked, because his thoughts were all over the place.

“What do you want to do?” Robin asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, a little bit louder than he had intended to.

“Do you want to talk to her?” Eddie suggested gently, rubbing the back of his hand.

“Yes,” he replied immediately, “but no. God why am I so scared?”

“Because this is scary,” Robin replied. “You have no idea how many times I have played over possible scenarios of coming out to my parents in my head. Most of them are trainwrecks because it’s a really, really scary thing.”

“The scariest,” Eddie agreed. “When I came out to Wayne, I had a bag packed and was ready to make a run for it.”

“What happened?” Robin asked, just before Steve blurted out something similar.

“He hugged me and told me he didn’t care who I loved as long as I was happy,” Eddie explained. “Then he sat me down and gave me the most embarrassing sex talk, I nearly died. I had no idea Wayne knew anything about gay sex, but I guess I must have been giving off some signals, because he had pamphlets.”

“Oh my god,” Robin said with a smile. “I love your uncle more the more I hear about him.”

“My mother better not have pamphlets,” was what came out of Steve’s mouth.

“She’d probably get your dad to do that part,” Robin commented.

“Oh god no, that would be worse,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Mom had to do the whole birds and the bees talk because when Dad tried, he was so awkward about it.”

“Think we might be a bit beyond the safe sex talk anyway,” Eddie commented.

Robin’s gaze flicked between them.

“So have you two..?” she asked.

“I wish,” Steve said, before his brain caught up with his mouth.

His face heated up quickly.

“What Steve is so eloquently trying to say, is no, we haven’t gone all the way yet, but we’ve done more than kissing,” Eddie revealed, “and if you want more details, you can ask Steve when I am not in hearing range.”

At least Eddie’s cheeks were flaming as well.

“So, back to my mom,” Steve said before the conversation could get any more awkward.

“You should talk to her,” Robin said confidently, “but you don’t have to do it right now. If you need time, you can take it.”

“I think this morning might have been your mom’s way to give you an opening,” Eddie added. “That’s probably why she didn’t just come out and say it directly. She doesn’t want to push you.”

“What about you?” Steve asked, looking his boyfriend in the eye.

“Well, I’m kind of terrified your mom might give me a shovel talk to end all shovel talks, because your mom is scary as hell, but I can cope with that,” Eddie replied, leaning into him for a moment. “This is about you, not me. So, whatever you need is okay by me.”

Steve took a deep breath and squeezed Eddie’s hand.

He had never thought about coming out to his mom or his dad, it just wasn’t something he had considered, given how long he had known he had anything to come out about. Maybe in the back of his mind there had been a vague idea, but it had been an amorphous thing. He’d more thought about revealing him and Eddie to the party than to his parents. The last few days had been such a whirlwind on top of weeks of upheaval that it was all a bit much.

“I’ll talk to her,” he decided as he let himself process it all, “but maybe not today.”

“If you need backup,” Eddie said, “I’m always here.”

“Me too,” Robin agreed.

“When you do decide, let me know and I’ll talk to Wayne too,” Eddie added. “He’s far too observant for his own good so probably has us pegged already, but it couldn’t hurt to have another adult who can vouch for the fact I’m not a serial killer.”

“My mom already thinks your adorable,” Steve replied.

He gave them both a smile, dropping their hands and pulling them both into a three-way hug. This was something he was pretty sure he had to do by himself, but he was grateful for their supports.

~*~

When they had come back downstairs after Steve’s freakout, his mom had been perfectly normal, entertaining Robin’s parents and even inviting them to stay for lunch so they could all watch the press conference together. It was due at one pm.

Steve spent the morning with Eddie and Robin, going through their packets of cover story information and discussing it between them. Owens had provided them with an outline, enough to answer questions if anyone threw some at them, but Eddie was a consummate storyteller. As they talked it through, he came up with details they could use to sell it more, which in turn inspired Robin and Steve to come up with their own too. It helped solidify the story in Steve’s head as they fleshed their interactions out a little.

Eddie suggested they get all the kids together to do the same thing at some point, and he could only agree.

He helped his mom put together a light lunch around midday and he was perched on the arm of one of the couches next to Robin with Eddie beside her and Wayne in the last seat, while his mom and Robin’s parents took up the other couch and his dad had an armchair. They had the TV on, on the local news station, but had it turned down for now.

Steve wasn’t sure why he was nervous, but from the way Robin was gripping his hand, he was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one. He wished he could have been holding Eddie’s hand as well, but Wayne seemed to be doing a good job of that.

The cover story was thorough, clever, and covered all the bases. It made them all out to be heroes, which made Steve feel a little uncomfortable, but he understood why. This was to protect them from shady government types by making everyone remember them. He didn’t feel like a hero though. He never had. He’d done what he had to do and that was just the way he saw it.

In his opinion, heroes were people who chose to be soldiers or firefighters or doctors, he’d just been thrown into it every time.

“Here it comes,” Robin said, pointing at the screen.

Steve’s dad turned up the volume.

“And now we go live to Hawkins and our reporter Denise Wellman,” the anchor was saying.

“Thanks, John,” a woman with a microphone, standing in front of the ruins of the town hall said. “Hawkins has been the site of some very strange and tragic happenings since the end of March, but we have been led to believe that these are linked to other incidents which have plagued the town. We are just waiting for law enforcement representatives to begin the press conference.”

Denise went on for a little longer, going over the recent earthquake, the murders and more as she filled in while activity started on the platform behind her. Steve tuned most of it out, just watching as familiar faces appeared on the small stage that had been built for the purpose. Hopper was wearing a suit, which just looked bizarre to Steve.

“Hop scrubs up well,” Eddie commented.

The reporter lowered her microphone as the camera panned away from her and focused on the group of people on the stage. Hopper was in the front, with Owens just behind his left shoulder and Chief Powell behind his right.

“Good afternoon,” Hopper began as silence fell. “Thank you all for coming today. My name is Jim Hopper and many of you will know me as the ex-chief of Hawkins’ police. I’ve been officially dead since the summer of last year, but I will get to that later. I stand here today as a representative of the government and of our town. I know everyone has questions, but I will take them at the end as I have a prepared statement and I thank you for your patience.”

He looked round at his audience with a grave expression on his face.

“Our town had been under a shadow for several years,” Hopper went on. “The first incident which alerted us to this was the disappearance of Will Byers, but unfortunately it goes back further than that. Until now, we were unable to reveal the truth because of an ongoing investigation, but that is now complete. Hawkins had been at the centre of a very dangerous international drug ring.”

A murmur went round the gathered crowd at that.

“A new and incredibly dangerous drug came to the notice of the federal government four years ago, one no one had ever seen before,” Hopper went on. “It was known only as Vecna on the underground scene, and it could be deadly with only one use. No one could figure out where it was coming from. What no one realised at the time was the fact the group behind it were highly organised, from countries all around the world, and had government contacts in those countries.”

“There were no clues until the disappearance of Will Byers. He was the first victim in Hawkins. We believe he saw something he was not supposed to, was exposed to the drug, and left for dead. That he was found by his family and friends and survived is a miracle. Unfortunately, he could not recall what he had seen.”

“Barbara Holland was not so lucky.”

Hopper paused to give the reporters and towns people time to digest that. Steve closed his eyes for a second as that night flashed behind his eyes. He still couldn’t shake the guilt. Robin rubbed his hand.

“Hawkins Lab was being used by its head scientist Dr Martin Brenner and a few select members of his team to manufacture Vecna type 1. Every disaster this town has seen since has been caused by the same source,” Hopper continued. “The accident at the lab which caused its closure and the hallucinations among people in town, the Starcourt mall fire, the murders of our children, and the earthquake.”

“Each of these was the drug cartel attempting to take over our town. They caused the accident at the lab and a chemical leak to drive the government presence out of Hawkins. They built Starcourt mall with the help of Mayor Kline, burning it down to cover their tracks when they were discovered. And their secret, illegal mine under our town, and their testing of their drug on our kids caused everything this year. It has been terrible, but it could have been so much worse.”

“I was recruited by the DEA in 1985 to help them figure out if there were still any cartel agents in town by playing at being a cop who would look the other way for enough cash,” Hopper explained. “And when the mall was torched, I had a chance to go deeper into the cartel. I’ve been undercover since. However, and I cannot stress this enough, we owe our town not to government law enforcement, but to a group of kids and young adults. They are why this town is not a battle ground, and the incident in Lock Nora a few days ago was the cartel’s attempt at revenge.”

The noise from the crowd became much louder and Hopper had to hold up his hand to quiet it down.

“I know that sounds fantastic,” Hopper told everyone, “but it’s the truth. After Will Byers’ brush with death, his friends, his family and those closely associated with them became hypervigilant. These kids don’t let anything get past them. It wasn’t the DEA or the FBI who figured out Starcourt was a front, it was these kids. It wasn’t the government who discovered the illegal mine under the town, it was these kids. Without them, the damage to our town would have been far worse. It was their quick thinking, their heroism which prevented a far bigger explosion that would have turned most of this town to ash.”

“Who are these kids?” someone called out.

“I’ll get to that,” Hopper promised. “First there are a few things you must understand. Hawkins was targeted originally because there is a rare mineral under our feet the cartel needed to produce their new designer drug. The earthquake was their mine going up in flames and the heat opening fissures to the surface. The fissures closed once the fire finally burned out. There was also an underground storage facility of other chemicals which had they burned would have caused an explosion that would have taken out the whole town.”

“The three murders this spring were the cartel testing out Vecna 3.0,” Hopper went on. “They targeted innocent high school kids by doctoring ordinary prescription medication. The drug causes catastrophic seizures and contortions when ingested at too high a dose and can cause psychosis at lower levels.”

“So there was no serial killer?” someone asked.

“No,” Hopper replied. “These innocent victims were targeted by faceless scientists with no conscience.”

“What about Eddie Munson?” another bright spark piped up.

Steve’s heart beat harder at that, even though he already knew what was coming.

“Okay, let’s talk about Eddie. Eddie is the opposite to the lies and slander that have been spread about him,” Hopper said in a tone that begged someone to argue with him so he could punch their lights out. “Everyone in Hawkins knows Eddie used to sell weed. More than a few of you have bought from him. What you don’t know is when he heard whispers about a new dangerous drug making its way into Hawkins, he came to me, way before I was recruited by the DEA. He even deliberately failed to graduate the second time so he could keep an eye on what was going on at Hawkins High. He was also my only contact with the outside while I was undercover.”

“No one is ever going to believe that,” Eddie muttered, the first person to do more than breathe as they watched.

“If I didn’t know the truth, I’d believe it,” Robin said quietly.

“Eddie nearly died trying to get the word out about the mine when he found out about it,” Hopper went on.

“Where were you?” someone asked.

“Chicago,” Hopper replied. “We didn’t know why Hawkins was a focus until we knew about the mine. It’s the puzzle piece that made the picture make sense. After Starcourt we thought the cartel were only mildly interested in Hawkins anymore. Eddie would have died if it wasn’t for his friends, who also happen to be friends of Will Byers. The kids I am talking about are Robin Buckley, Will and Jonathan Byers, Gareth Emerson, Argyle Franco, Steve Harrington, Dustin Henderson, my daughter, Jane Hopper, Jeff Newton, Max Mayfield, Lucas and Erica Sinclair, Frank Thomas, and Mike and Nancy Wheeler. Some of them have been involved since the beginning, some only more recently, but they have all saved this town.”

“When Eddie went to ground and was taken captive by the cartel, these kids went looking for him,” Hopper told the enrapt crowd. “Just like when they heard coded messages at Starcourt mall they went looking too. They found Eddie, got him out and together they all prevented the explosives in the chemical storage facility from going up. Without them this whole area would be a crater. There was also information in the facility which allowed the DEA and other organisations to finally close in on the puppet masters in the cartel. We owe so many lives, local and international, to a bunch of very brave kids, and several of them wear the scars to prove it.”

Steve’s hand went to his neck without his conscious consent. Hopper made it sound like a badge of honour.

“There are more details in the press packs,” Hopper said as he wound up his explanation. “Now I will take questions.”

A barrage of sound came from the reporters and members of the public in the crowd and Steve’s dad turned down the volume.

“Who knew Hopper could be more dramatic than me,” Eddie commented.

“Maybe he’s a closet thespian,” Robin said in kind.

“Closet what?” Steve asked.

“Actor,” Eddie said without the remotest hesitation.

“Well, he’s definitely got my vote,” he replied. “I would have believed every word he said.”

He couldn’t help noticing that all their parental figures were looking at them a little bit strangely. Possibly their coping mechanisms were showing.

End of Chapter 44

Chapter 45

#stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie lives #stranger things #st:beyond-the-battle #fanfic #post season 4 #vampire eddie #hurt/comfort #vampire eddie munson #steve harrington has powers #steddie fanfic #steddie fic

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maraudersdreamer · 2 years

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A Happy Ending - Chapter 1

Hogwarts Express, 1971

It was a beautiful sunny day on September 1st 1971. There had been a dryspell, so everyone was glad to have the sun out and had been enjoying it immensely while they still can.

Four young boys who would become the closest of friends were all on there way to Kings Cross Train Station this morning.

James Potter, an only child of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, was shaking with nerves. He has always been a very rambunctious child and although his parents love him dearly and would miss him more than anything else in the world, they were worn down from his constant spout of energy.

“James? You’ll write to us as soon as you are able to let us know what house you’re in won’t you? You know we just want to be proud of you and couldn’t care less which you get in. We love you no matter what.” Euphemia said all this with her signature doting eyes and soft smile, reaching over to tousle James’ unruly hair.

“Yes mum, I know I love you forever. I do think it’d be awesome to make it in Gryffindor thought!!”

Euphemia laughed.

“Of course honey, as long as you’re happy we’re happy. Just try you’re best to stay out of trouble, I know you’re drawn to it like flies on flypaper. Be careful baby.”

“I’ll try mum but no promises,” he said with a cheeky smile.

The train whistled signaling five minutes till parting. James hugged his mom and dad, his parents both squeezing tightly and giving him pecks on the forehead.

“See ya mum, dad. I love you forever! See you at Christmas!”

Then off James was onto the train to find a compartment and most importantly, friends!

—————

“Sirius Orion Black you better sit with your cousins at school and behave or we will come down there and administer your detentions ourselves!” Walburga screeched into her sons ear.

“Yes mother” Sirius replied, impatient to have a year away from home, if you could even call it that. He had a fresh bruise on his abdomen from his father ‘preparing’ him for what would happen if he disappointed them again. Sirius smiled and gave a short wave to his brother Regulus, only a year younger than him. He was sympathetic for him having to spend a whole year alone with their parents. Then again, he had always been better at pleasing them. Regulus smiled back, a bit teary eyed though doing well to hide it from mother.

The train whistled and his mother gave a short nod, “Right, we will see you in June, no need to come home for Christmas unless you please us.”

And with that, Walburga escorted Regulus away and Sirius was left by himself.

“Finally,” he mumbled, and boarded the train to find someone his parents wouldn’t approve of. Immediately he bumped into someone about his height and knocked their glasses off.

“Shit sorry, didn’t see you there.”

The boy, no older than him, picked up his round glasses and beamed at him. “Don’t worry about it. I’m James, James Potter,” he said while sticking his hand out to shake.

“Hey mate, I’m Sirius. Black. Want to get a compartment together?”

They shook hands and James agreed. The pair of them then went off to find an empty compartment in the crowded train.

—————

“Come along Remus you’ll be late onto the train!”

Remus Lupin, a short but skinny boy, jogged after his father Lyall.

“I’m trying dad, you know how my leg gets” he sighed. Just a couple of days ago was the full moon and his hip always acted up around it. He badly dislocated it after a particularly bad night a year before then.

“Remus, please try to make friends. I know how you can be. Maybe you’ll be in Ravenclaw! That’s where I met most of my buddies.”

His father Lyall gave him a hug, and he hugged him back once he caught up.

“I know dad. I’ll try. Love you, I’ll see you Christmas?”

“Hopefully, I’ll write to you. Have a good journey, love you remus,” his dad said his goodbyes and remus hobbled onto to train with much anxiety.

He walked down the aisle looking for an empty compartment to read or perhaps take a nap, but everywhere was full. Suddenly, a compartment door slid open next to him and a dark haired boy with glasses looked out at him.

“Oy mate you look lost. Would you like to sit with us?”

“Uh” c’mon Remus try to make friends “…yeah, yeah sure,” Remus stumbled out, and slipped into the compartment.

“I’m James Potter by the way, and this tossers name is Sirius Black. What’s your name?”

“I’m, uh, Remus, Remus Lupin. It’s nice to meet you,” he said shaking hands with the other young boys. They were both very friendly and had big smiles, both equally enthusiastic.

Remus sat down just as another boy hurriedly opened the compartment door. He was blond and a bit chubby, probably shorter than Remus. He was slicked with sweat, had ran on to the train just in time.

“Uh… Hi! Sorry to barge in… my mum got us here a little late and a prefect was telling everyone to get in their own compartment. I’m Peter by the way…” the boy spit this out all very quickly, but thankfully everyone else understood him.

James, ever the people person smiled and walked over with his hand out.

“Hello Peter, I’m James. This is Remus, and that there is Sirius.”

After that introduction and a slightly awkward hand shake from Peter, him and James sat down for the journey. James across from Sirius, Peter next to James, and Remus next to Sirius.

They didn’t know it yet, but this was the first of many trips to Hogwarts that they would share.

—————

Thanks for reading!!! This is the first chapter of a fanfic im hoping to start, but I wanted to put it out there and see how it is. I will be posting this somewhere else soon once I write more!

#harry potter #marauders #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #first chapter #fanfic #fanfiction

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multiverseofimagines · 2 years

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hi!! could i please have a male and female stranger things ship?

i’m a plus size bisexual girl, 5’3 with medium length shaggy blonde hair and blue/grey eyes. I'm very artsy and really really into music and I would describe my style as punk/90's grunge. I try my best to come off as a confident person but I do get flustered and shy rather easily, I am the designated badass mum friend though. I am a pisces and an INFP. Thank you sm ❤️

I ship you with

Eddie Munson

Oh my god just imagine him smiling at you like that 😭 I’m fucking dead, deceased, gone.

I think you two just would vibe really well. He would confide in you often about his issues with his father, and his family in general.

You’re always there to take care of him, and make sure he’s okay.

You guys are both weirdly, lone wolves? You guys like to wander and be free, this sense of like, wanting open road and just living you know? You spend your time in the woods or at reefer ricks, getting stoned, deep talks.

You guys are literal soulmates, like it feels destined to be. Complete twin flames.

He has a ceremony with the hellfire club to make you an honorary member for life, they make you your own tshirt and everything.

He’s terrified of losing you. Would definitely sacrifice himself for you, because the last thing he wants is for you to get hurt + you make him brave, his love for you is hella inspirational.

He gives you his guitar pick necklace 😭 so you have a piece of him wherever you go.

When he distracts the bats, you jump into the gate instead of dustin and run after him. You find him fighting for his life before death settles in. Your hysterical but trying to stay calm so you can talk to him “you idiot! Why would you do that? why? “ he can’t help but chuckle as he coughs up blood, your hands have settled upon the bloody wounds he’s suffered, you can’t let go. “ It’s okay, we just gotta get you back, its okay.” he looks up at you, tears rolling down his cheeks, his breathe is rattled, “ I told you, that I would do anything to protect you.” You cried harder your hands soiled from his bloodied wounds, “Im gonna get you home okay? and we’re gonna go back to the way it was.” he smiles softly, you can tell he’s in pain, “that place was never my home, you were.” he rattles out his last breath. You do not leave his side.

(I’m sorry y’all were giving me starcrossed, destined to be doomed vibes and plus im emotional tonite so don’t hate me 😂)

Look-Book

- it was a little difficult finding plus size friendly examples, ( cause fatphobia is so prevalent on sites like pinterest still and within the fashion community tbh) but as a plus size woman, I wanted to choose the best options that not only would fit all sizes, but were keeping accurate to the time period and your style so hopefully your good with this!

Playlist

- when looking for the music for this I was like SO INSPIRED. I stg I wanna write a whole ass fanfic about you guys. I chose songs that were giving me; you and eddie vibes, I chose a couple that were definitely more 90’s instead of 80’s. I decided for this one I wanted to add like my fave lyric from the song that made me pick it, so you can have some insight(from one music nerd to another), and also cry with me cause y’all made me soft ANYWAY.

Heaven and Hell By Black Sabbath; “ Love Can be seen as the answer, but nobody bleeds for the dancer.” And “ The world is full of Kings and Queens, who blind your eyes and steal your dreams.” THAT ONE had me like “vecna???” also the guitar solo and bridge right there is AMAZING. Waisted potential they didn’t use this song in Season 4.

Straight Through The Heart by Dio; “ Living in a world of Make Believe, I can hide behind whats real.” This whole song gave me Eddie vibes and how he felt growing up, being kind of abandoned by his Family in a way, and being bullied.

Bigmouth Strikes Again By The Smiths; There wasn’t much of a lyric in this song that really took me by the heart, it was just the whole thing, it sounds sad and somehow romantic? Its about how the protagonist feels as though he is being judged for the things he says, and how he has a big mouth, which is just so relatable to Eddie, how passionate he is about being different and how he feels about society (jumping up on tables with his big speeches and such) The way he says “Sweetness” really sold me as something Eddie would say as a nickname for you perhaps as well.

Love will Tear Us Apart By Joy Division; “ Why is the bedroom so cold, turned away on your side.” Honestly I thought about the aftermath of his death after Dustin probably had to drag you away, the feeling of not knowing how to move on feeling the coldness of the room without his presence. Also feeling resentment for his sacrifice, how his love for you tore you apart.

Heart-Shaped Box By Nirvana ; You said 90’s grunge and that you were pisces and I was sold on this one lmao 😜 okay that was only half of it!! The whole song is super romantic, its so devotional to the person he loves and I feel like Eddie would be similar, just completely utterly in love with you in a torturous way.

Separate Ways (Worlds Apart) By Journey; “If we can’t go on, to survive the tide love divides.” “ If you must go, I wish you love, you’ll never walk alone, take care my love.” This one had me in like TEARS. Like if You and Eddie were in the show, this would be playing as he sacrifices himself i stg.

1979 by Smashing Pumpkins; “ I know you better than you fake it.” The whole song sounds like love ended too early, so I added this one! And “ We don’t know just where our bones will rest, to dust I guess.” Its really about the mortality of a relationship, and accepting it because you appreciate the time you have with that person.

Malibu by Hole; The whole song sounds like grief from tragedy of losing a loved one, trying to save them from their fate. I just really wanted some tragic songs to go along with my headcanon so have fun with that. (Also Hole lowkey slaps so hard, Like I’m not a huge fan of Courtney, but damn I just love all her music?)

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things headcanons #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things ship #multiverseofimagines ships

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alldaysarenights · 21 days

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The magic of books

I have no idea, if this article will make sense to anyone. But Tumblr is a magic place where people tend to accept the weirdness in others, so you might even find those ideas I'm introducing appealing. Who knows? Certainly not me, I tend to hide from human interaction, as I don’t understand it, but at least I make an effort to try.

Ever since, books have been a strange thing to me. When I was young, I tended to look at comics, but not read the bubbles. The pictures were enough, that’s how my brain worked back then and still does occasionally. But then there was my first book, Harry Potter, if you must know. (Side note: I won’t go into detail here, as I learned that the Author isn’t as nice a person as I imagined her and I would presumably start to rant. So to save time, let’s not speak about it) It got me to fall in love with the written word.

A while back, I applied for a job as librarian, didn’t get the job, but I got something else out of it and that was a question, I took home. Breeding about it. Why didn’t I own a library card?

It’s not because I don’t like libraries. I’m not very fond about the choice of colours in ours, to be honest. The architect could have learned something about the psychology behind colours, but that’s not the point. I remember visiting the school library, back when there still was one. And I’m not quite sure. But I think there also was one at the local church. Yet as a child I didn’t have the possibility to go to town often. Also, nobody told me about the big, public library. And when the surrounding others got closed down, something magical happened. It wasn’t obvious to me, back at the time, but books started to find me, or precisely their way towards me. I never had any troubles to read the books I wanted or needed to.

My pocket money was all spend on mangas and even though we were poor, my mum took me to special outlets where I was allowed to pick up on all my Stephen King books. Somehow people kept gifting, lending or simply throwing books at me. There was no other reason as for me, carving to read everything that found its way into my hands. Except maybe for books about mathematics, I even nearly destroyed one school book back then, and I would never dream about causing dog-ears to a book.

Anyway, books kept turning up out of nowhere, even without a library card, and once I’ve started earning money I’ve invested it to start my own library. Something every literate person will do at a certain point. Yet I still find it interesting how books connect to each other and leave traces for you to follow. I will use one example here, that I've found quite interesting, and that hopefully will illustrate what I mean. Apologies in advance, as it’s on an actual topic. I just think that makes understanding my point a bit easier. I could be totally wrong about everything that follows, the thing is just, that my intuition and by that I’m talking about the little Sherlock inside my head, is certain, that I am right here. Well, time will tell. If I’m erroneous, my apologies (again). It’s built into human nature, to learn from mistakes (at least I hope so).

Like many folks on here, I did watch Good Omens, and ever since, it kept rattling through my brain, as the build up is amazing, and it is written so well and done even better by the whole team, no doubt about that.

The thing is, at one point I got tired of the depression that season 2 caused me, so I decided to distract me, reading a book about introversion, namely: Quiet by Susan Cain. This book had nothing to do with angels or stuff that would trigger me, so I thought. It was just an interesting read after I’ve watched her TED talk. But I wasn’t prepared for the magic that books work sometimes. There was a sentence, just one. It mentioned the speech for liberty of Patrick Henry and quoted his famous words: “Give me liberty, or give me death!”

Boom, there it was, a clue, so shiny and bright, I couldn’t ignore it. My physical response made it impossible, to focus on anything else, where should I put all this adrenaline? To say I have been distracted from the book would be an understatement. I did write an article about my theory, on my main blog and have been super excited. Later on I even found, can’t remember exactly where, but I think it was a tweet, where Neil said something like how hard it was to find a name for a coffee shop that wasn’t already used. This made me laugh. Don’t know if this was intentional at the time (for all we know, writers are liars), or just a happy coincidence, but looking on the coffee shop I definitely know how it played out.

I’m not here to share the whole thing of my theory for S3. I decided that I know as much as I can from the clues given, and that’s enough to still enjoy the thing. Just mentioned it, because I like how everything ties together in the end. I even found another, I’m not so sure about, but this one will remain secret, for now.

What I tried to show you is, how things are connected in the most unexpected ways. And that reading widely will expand the knowledge and fun of the thing. At least everything builds up on each other. How did Holmes put it? There is nothing new under the sun.

Not even for Arthur Conan Doyle. As this quote can be traced back to the bible (Ecclesiastes 1:9 in the Old Testament). If you happen to read Edgar Allan Poe, especially the short stories about his detective Dupin, you might even have noticed, that the tone slightly reminds one of Watson. And we know that Doyle was a fan of Poe.

So, I guess, I’m closing this very long article with a final thought. Everything goes in circles, and if you trust that you’ll find what you need right now, it will find you eventually. If you keep looking or in this case keep reading, even though you might not know what. Trust your instincts and read what comes to your hands or sounds interesting right now. Surprise yourself. The best thing is, that sources of information aren’t limited to reading, you can find them everywhere, if you focus hard enough. Who knows, it might be a source of inspiration.

#reading #books and reading #books and libraries #good omens #arthur conan doyle #edgar allan poe

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sashi-ya · 2 years

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Hi Sashi! Thank you for hosting this spicy event! I would like to see a a story where Sabo is actually rescued by his parents instead of Dragon, so he lives up as a noble, obviously behaving like a dick. NSFW, reader is a commoner, his plaything to satisfy his dark urges since he has the power to do so. Wouldn't mind some softness (since he is a good-hearted man deep down) but I want him dark. Thank you so much for your hard work!

Hi sweety!! OF COURSE! I made him extra dark, a little too much, so I really expect you to like him like this 🙊🙈... thank u for requesting!! 💖😈 ~

😈💜Sashi's Dark Corner💜😈

NSFW ~ Noble! Sabo x F! Painter! Reader ~ A Noble's Entertainment

tw: NSFW. Super explicit. Sabo is a noble, as he was saved by his parents and not by Dragon. Rough sex. Degrading language. Marking. Caning. Masturbation. Filming without consent (trust me he behaves well at the end). Jerk attitude. Unprotected sex. Hair pulling.

wc: 3.3K (ups!)

Like this event? masterlist ~

Flower Hills now cover what once was Gray Terminal, the soft caress of a summer breeze plays with Sabo’s golden locks as he cultivates his mind reading a book about the tragedy of Flevance. His room, the one that’s always been his since little slowly stopped feeling like a cage and after many years he felt comfortable in it. The bars of the window in front of him project a shadow like marks on his skin as he moves.

Though, there was a mark that he couldn't hide…

“Sabo-nichan!” Stelly shouts from the door, pulling Sabo from his immersive lecture.

“What?” he looks to the door, pissed because his stupid step brother never knocks. “How many times do I have to tell-?” he asks, annoyed but stops right away. She looked so fine, she looked so perfect… and Sabo, Sabo had absolutely no shame in showing her what he thought…

“Ni-chan, she is (Name). That’s the artist mum told you was coming to paint your future royal portrait. If you are going to be the next… king… you need to have a painted portrait” he states, clearly jealous of the “becoming a king” part. But Sabo doesn’t mind. He loves young, beautiful women. Commoners, rather than nobles, he has a thing for them, he enjoys playing with those from lower classes…

The blond noble stands up covering his burn mark with golden wavy locks. He fixes his cravat and picks up his cane. A cane that looks lighter than any normal cane, but that nobody dares to ask why he uses it. “Good afternoon, lady… We could discuss the painting right here” he says to you, smirking and fixing dark grey eyes on yours.

Your lips separate several times before any word could come out from your mouth. You know how Sabo looked but his aura, his presence feels intimidating and makes you in a way… weak. A handsome man, influential, powerful. A man that was once a rebellious kid and dared to even cross the sea by his own… that man, that soon turned into a jerk, just like any noble.

Stelly leaves the room, after Sabo had dedicated to him a deathly stare. That bitch is annoying, his haircut, the way he moves, how he speaks, triggers the need of sticking your fist on his face, but still you stay silent and wait for him to leave.

“So, my mother says you are the best artist in the whole Goa Kingdom, aren’t you?” Sabo asks, inviting you to take a seat on one of the chairs of his dormitory. You smile and look straight towards the case with your paints and brushes you have on your hands. Your knuckles turn white from the way you unconsciously squeeze the handle, and you don’t know why… are you afraid? are you… into him?

You only nod, a little blushed because of his praise. “What is it, did the cat get your tongue?” he asks, laughing and coming closer to you. Gloved index finger lifts your chin up, the dark smirk on his face shows you he is not willing to behave like a true gentleman…after all, that’s exactly what nobles do. They act like jerks, because they think everything, even the lower class people, are theirs.

“S-sir, I… how would you like me to paint you? A classic portrait or-” you ask but got cut short because Sabo had decided the moment you step in his room the exact way you will be picturing him… “Naked. I want you to paint me naked”.

“N-naked?” you ask, stuttering. You have painted so many men naked, but… wasn’t this supposed to be a royal like portrait? “Yes, I think we are going to be more comfortable in the next room. Join me, please” Sabo commands, holding his cane but not using it for walking. You stand up and follow him, like a moth to the light, to the next room that’s connected to his own dormitory.

The huge East Rosewood door opens and reveals a room that looks kind of off regarding the rest of the decorations in his house -that more than a house, it looks like a palace to you-. Walls with bricks, just a leather couch in the middle, subtle lighting. There are no windows, but there is a little table with a den den mushi on it. And you wonder what that's for? is that a communication den den mushi? A camera one?

“Please, wait here. I will ask for my maids to bring you something to drink” he says -commands- and gets out of the room. The door closes behind him, giving you a subtle unpleasant feeling of being encaged…

You prefer to ease the doubt, and instead direct your gaze to a tall library full of dusty books from all around the globe. As your eyes scan the titles, you find a cookbook from the north blue, and a revolutionary manifest from the RA. “How weird” you think, coming from a noble, that type of books are probably something disgusting to read…

After what felt like eternal hours, the doors opens. A girl, dressed like servitude, crawls inside the weird room bringing a silver tray with a pot and two fine porcelain cups. She dedicates you a painful glare as she pours the steamy beverages. “Why is she looking at me like that?” you ask yourself, because it looked like she was pitting you.

“Is everything ok, miss?” you ask, because at this point you are beginning to be scared. “Y-yes, please be care-” she says, fixing worried eyes on yours. But her speech gets cut short by the loud bump of Sabo’s cane against the door. “What’s going on, servant? Did I give you the order to speak with other workers?” he asks, intimidating both of you with a sadist smile. The poor maid jolts. Her eyes fix on the ground, almost like making holes into it. “Excuse me, Sabo-sama” she says, and practically runs away briefly looking at Sabo’s cane like a torture instrument.

“Hah! These lower class people never seem to understand their place, don’t they?” he laughs, closing the door and coming closer to you. Your blood boils, because you are yourself a lower class person compared to him and you were taught that nobody is less than anybody just by their economical level… but he is a noble, he was raised like that…

Shamelessly, before your astonished look, he walks directly to the couch and flops into it. He spreads his legs as he sits and loosens the white frilled cravat that holds his blue shirt closed. He also takes off the fancy hat and ruffles his own hair in a sexy, and pretentious way. His cane rests over his lap as he then lays his back and open arms on the back rest. “You told me when you are ready to start and I’ll take the rest off” he tells you, not even asking if you were alright with painting a young man naked.

You nod and begin to prepare your tools. First, you put up the easel and the canvas, then the oils and ultimately the brushes. You think about what colours could make the perfect match for his milky skin and pick the burnt sienna to paint the base of the burning mark around his eye… “Will he want me to paint it?”.

“Sir, I’m ready. How do you prefer the canvas to be? Horizontal or vertical?” you ask, finding the best hiding spot for you behind it. “Well, I was hoping for you to make a full portrait of my nudity, so horizontal” he tells you, without hesitation. You swallow and fight against the burning arson that grows from your belly to your cheeks. “Yes, sir. Please, show me the pose you would like me to paint you”.

You hear the creaking of the leathery couch as he moves, and of course you are sure he is getting naked and in pose, and you don’t dare to look at immediately. “What are you waiting for, artist?” he asks, playfully. You stick your face off the canvas and take a quick look at his perverse way to display his bareness. It reminds you of the infamous painting, “The Fallen Angel” by Alexandre Cabanel. The perfect side of his abdominal wall of muscles goes up and down accompanying the way he breathes. Strong arms that are not big, but lean indeed. Long legs, covering his sexuality. His golden locks, wavy and shiny covering conveniently the scar on his eye. Scar that extends to his collarbones and into his chest. Everything was uncovered, except his hands. He still wears his brown leather gloves.

“So, begin please” he commands, smirking because he noticed how your breathing got subtly accelerated before such a perfect show of anatomy traits. You gasp and quickly begin to sketch the basic lines that will build the painting. Your eyes scan every little detail, amazed by the harmony in his own features. Focusing on his face first, you realize he doesn’t look like a bad guy, yet his eyes hold something pretty dark inside. And you wonder what it is… The doubt didn’t take you any longer to be resolved, though.

A certain sound catches your attention all of a sudden, you have been avoiding eye contact for a long time now, only taking quick glances for details. And nothing prepared you -or maybe your imagination did- for what you see next. He is nonchalantly jerking off, right in front of you, as if you didn’t exist at all.

Quickly, you hide behind the canvas despite him noticing you looking at him. “Why are you hiding, painter? I bet this is more interesting to paint, don’t you think?” he laughs, to a mortified you, a blushed you. “S-sir… I… I didn’t…” you are out of words, what a disgusting jerk he is… and yet, you want to keep looking.

“Come on! You do it, too! I want you to paint me like this. Promise I’ll pay you more” he tells you, as if he was asking for you to add a flower on his hair. “Alright Sir, please stand still so I can picture it for you” you mumble, trying to act professional but crossing your legs… your core was begging for pressure, for release.

You take a big gasp of air and look at him posing, holding his dick in between his gloved hand. Hard, big, red and dripping. Details are your specialty, and those never escape your eyes… but an erotic painting? This is something new for you.

The charcoal on your fingers stain them in black, as your hands get sweaty but your eyes are unable to stop looking at his crotch while sketching. “Your expression is adorable, you know?” he mumbles, stroking his dick a little harder but staying as still as possible. “I’m just focused on the details” you whisper, feeling your cheeks burning.

“Oh… I see. Which details do you like the most? hm? the way it drips? or how hard it is for you, painter?” he asks, straightforwardly.

Bastard…

“Overall is a pretty reference for me to work with, I might have to come closer eventually” you tell him, playing with the double entendre of your words, falsely suggesting he is not that big as he thinks.

The noble's eyes change all of a sudden. How dare a lower class bitch to suggest his sex is not big enough? He stands up, all of a sudden. “What did you just say?” he asks, pissed. You frown, well aware he was annoyed, but you decide to play dumb. “I’m sorry Sir, what did I say?”.

“You think my dick is not big enough, bitch?” he tells you, coming closer and pulling your head back from your hair. “I… I didn’t say that… Indeed I think it is big enough, Sir” you stutter, half scared, half aroused by his violent proximity.

“I should show you then how big it is by sticking it inside you, don’t you think? Do you want me to show it to you?” he asks, surprising you that at least he is asking for some type of consent. “Uh… well… I don’t know, a noble fucking a commoner?”

You, and your big mouth… “You are right, you are way above your place bitch” he says, and makes you kneel on the ground. “There, now you are where you are supposed to be. Under me”.

You look up at him, eyes fixed on his, but feeling the warmth the skin of his sex emanates on your face. “Stand still, now you are posing for me, bitch” he commands and pulling your head back from your hair he starts jerking off. Pumping and groaning, hitting your cheeks with the wet and throbbing tip of his dick, he masturbates in front of you. You could have been scandalized, but frankly… you are enjoying his subtle moaning as he strokes his shaft on and on.

“Open your mouth, now” he commands in between moaning, and as his back arches he fills your mouth with his warm release. “See? What a beautiful bitch you are!” he exclaims, sticking his finger in your mouth, making the contents spill. Sticky, milky fluid drips and slides through the commissures of your lips into the ground, as his load was so abundant you couldn't even hold it all inside.

Sabo lets go of your hair and pushes you to the side. He walks away, a sexy way of doing so. Your eyes scan his wide back and go down the small of it and even praise the way his bubble butt shows. He flops once again into the couch, spreading legs of course, the typical jerk pose and sucking his own cum from his finger. “Come here bitch, undress right in front of me”.

You do as he tells, standing up, swallowing the traces of his release and standing in front of him. He is holding his cane, and now you understand completely why he has it. Your dress falls to the ground, and you only keep your lingerie. But he is not satisfied with it and he wants you absolutely naked.

“All. Of. Your. Clothes. Off. Whore” he says, hitting you softly with the tip of his cane on the side of your left thigh. “Yes, sir” you mumble, and just like that your underwear falls to the ground. Sabo takes his time to enjoy your curves, up and down scanning your body. “Amazing body, you little bitch… sit down and spread your legs. I want you to touch yourself for me”.

You widen your eyes, is this man not touching you? he only wants to… watch? You slowly sit on the ground in front of him and spread your legs. Your hand slides from your lower belly to your core, showing him how wet you have become. “Look at you, does being covered in my cum make you that aroused?”. He is right to ask, because that’s indeed what made you become that horny.

“Uhum, Sir” you whisper, sticking the first finger inside you. You move it in and out, playing with your clit at the same time as you watch him delightfully enjoy your self-pleasuring show. Moaning, you keep going, aware of his sex getting hard soon after. “What are you looking at, little whore? You want my dick, don’t you?” he asks, smirking.

“Y-yes. Yes” you nod, biting your lip. To your surprise, he grabs his cane and pushes your shoulder with the tip of it. You fall back over the carpet of that weird looking room. Sabo stands up and walks around you. He walks slowly, you can hear his steps on the ground and the sound of the cane hitting his palm. Is he planning on using that instrument on you?

Yes. He is.

The cold instrument lands -softly- on your breasts. “Turn around on all fours” he commands and you, of course, quickly comply. “Good girl” he smiles and blesses hitting your back with the cane. It feels like a sting that sends a warm sensation from the place to your whole body ending on your clit.

“Mh…” you moan.

He hits you once again, laughing, because of your reaction. “Hahaha! You are all the same, you enjoy being punished by us, don’t you?”. One, two, three marks on your back and ass cheeks. He proceeds with the back of your thighs, it feels sharp, burning, stinging. You can only imagine the maroonish colours on your skin.

“Do you know what’s happening now?” he asks, while grazing up and down the cane on your dripping core. “Are you fucking me, sir?” you dare to ask, anxious and eager to feel his dick stretching your walls. “Should I, bitch? But don’t you dare touch me with those filthy hands” he moans, pulling you up from your hair.

Barely managing to stand up, he grabs you from behind. His gloved hands stroke your neck, choking you hard, interrupting any air flow that could go inside your lungs. “Where do you want my dick, tell me” he whispers in your ear, visibly aroused, breathing with difficulty. His sex plays at both of your entrances, as a tic tac toe game, where is it going to be stick in?

“Wh…wherever… you- ugh..want sir” you struggle to answer, as his hands like dragon’s claws crush your neck. “Heh…” he smirks, making you walk until you reach the couch. He pushes you against it, making you fall over the armrest. Perfectly showing your holes to him, you wait for him to fill you up.

He spreads your cheeks and legs and while he does so, burying his nails on your ass, he spits. The wet trail of saliva travels from your rear entrance and mixes with your arousal elixirs. And with him enjoying your degrading position, he impales you, brutally. “Sir…” you moan, feeling your walls stretching, as he mercilessly goes in and out.

“Shut up bitch, let me fill you up with my cum” he chimes, getting a better grip from pulling your hair. The sound of his crotch hitting against your ass mixes with him and your moan, creating a sinful melody of hell.

You are grateful for the armrest holding you, because at this point your legs aren’t able to do so. Infinite thrusts, rough, making you unstoppably squirt around the base of his dick. And right when you are about to come, he passes his hand under your chin, lifting your face up. “Smile for the camera, bitch” he moans, showing you the Den Den Mushi in front of you filming your whimpering tears.

Unstoppable orgasm that makes you scream, hits you. You dedicate a teary smirk to the eyes of that poor snail filming it all, proud of being the one who made the future king of your kingdom come too. He lets your womb filled up, about to explode, without taking in consideration that this could lead a simple commoner to have a little version of himself.

He sticks himself out of you, making his cum to drip through your inner thighs. Sabo sighs, and helps you stand up.

“Don’t worry, I will erase the video… And if there is something that hurts, please tell me” he says, cleaning your face from the tears. You panting, amazed by how he became a different man from minutes before, smile. “Don’t, can I keep it?”. The blonde frowns, and flops into the couch. “You want to keep it?”. “I do, I really want to rewatch it sometime” you tell him, sincerely. “And don’t worry, I won’t blackmail you. It was just too good to forget”.

Sabo smirks at you, with the clear intention of communicating something else. “You know? I wanted to be a pirate back when I was a kid… this is the mark that reminds me that” he says, confusing you. “I might want to enjoy a little more of your world, turns out that being a noble is in fact a little boring for me…”

Both smile at each other, understanding too well what he meant.

“Come here, sit with me… I’m definitely not finished”

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

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Day 29, Story #1 is by @floreatcastellumposts

Title: In Vino Veritas Author/Artist: Floreatcastellum Pairing: Gen (Harry - Molly platonic/parent-child) Prompt: In Vino Veritas Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Heavy alcohol consumption, mild language. Molly Weasley was not stupid, and was well aware that young men enjoyed going out and getting drunk. She was not even particularly opposed to it - in principle - and she had to admit that she was very relieved to see George so excited about something. He hadn’t been excited in several long months.

‘Just don’t be too silly,’ she told him.

‘Us? Silly?’ he said, affronted.

‘I mean it, things might be safer but you’re all still targets - especially Harry, he needs to be particularly aware-’

‘I think he is more than aware that people out there want him dead. What he needs is a lot of alcohol to forget that.’

‘No, George.’

She knew he was winding her up, but she also knew that they were planning a big night out, because Ron and Harry had never really had one before, and in all honesty as much as she couldn’t help her disapproval, she did also feel that it was a shame they had missed out on such a rite of passage.

All the same, since George had let it slip, she knew she was going to worry, and her way of coping with that twisting, maternal anxiety was to insist that after their night out they returned, not to the flat in Diagon Alley they shared, but to the Burrow so that she could make them a full English in the morning.

She had also intended to stay up waiting for them, and to call the Law Enforcement Patrol if they were not back by half one to go and search for them, just in case something terrible had happened. But it was an awfully cold Halloween, and so she had got into bed next to Arthur so that she could have the warmth of the duvet, propped herself up against the headboard, and started knitting. The next thing she knew, she was being woken by an almighty crash.

‘Oh, fuck!’

‘Wahey!’

Both Molly and Arthur had already grabbed their wands in a panic before they heard their son’s exasperated voice.

‘Get up - get up, you idiot - George, hold him - oh for crying out loud-’

‘RON-’

‘Ssh! Don’t shout-’

‘Get him some water-’

‘He needs more than water - ahhh I have a brilliant idea-’

‘No, you don’t, whatever it is, abandon it-’

‘HEY, WOW, LOOK AT-’

‘SSH!’

‘That’ll be the boys back, then,’ said Arthur, turning on the bedside lamp and giving her a wry smile. The clock on the table said that it was approaching three in the morning.

‘Sounds like it, what on earth is all the shouting about?’ she asked, pulling on her dressing gown. Tying the cord tightly about her waist and slipping her feet into slippers, she listened to the commotion echoing up the stairs, and tried to figure out what exactly they were doing.

She could hear snorting laughter as she descended the creaking stairs, and Ron’s voice again, sounding remarkably grown up, saying, ‘don’t encourage him, stop it - put that down-’

She could hear saucepans clattering and tins falling, and the hissing spit of the gas; she looked over her shoulder to exchange a bewildered look with Arthur. ‘Are they cooking?’ she whispered, though there was no need, because there was no chance of them hearing her above the noise of George hooting.

‘Beans on toast, beans on toast!’

‘BEANS ON TOAST!’ came Harry’s echo.

‘Shut up, shut up, shut up, both of you, shut-’

‘BEANS ON TOAST!’

Molly had heard enough; she threw open the kitchen door so violently that George jumped and threw an open tin of baked beans several feet into the air. They landed with an impressive splatter across the slate floor. Harry, meanwhile, reached for his wand, but had instead seized a loaf of bread which he now brandished threateningly as he leaned against the counter. Ron had frozen in the middle of filling a glass of water, which now flowed over his hand. All three of them were still streaked with smears of paint from what she assumed were their Halloween costumes.

‘What on earth is going on in here?’ she demanded loudly.

Ron gave a heavy, exaggerated sigh. ‘You woke Mum and Dad,’ he told George and Harry pointlessly.

Harry lowered the bread, and held it sheepishly in both hands, like a child with a toy. George, in a carrying, apologetic whisper, said, ‘...sorry. We’re a bit drunk. Go back to bed.’

‘We can see that,’ said Arthur. ‘Harry,’ he added sharply. ‘What’s wrong with your foot?’

‘Oh, I… I fell on it. It doesn’t matter.’

‘He was dancing on a table!’ exclaimed George, with an accusatory point.

‘I wasn’t dancing, I was standing-’

‘Look at the state of you all!’ she said furiously, as Arthur calmly went over to Harry and guided him, hobbling, to a kitchen chair. ‘So irresponsible-’

‘I’m not that bad!’ said Ron defensively, and in truth Molly was rather surprised and a little proud at how he was being the responsible adult of the group, but there was no denying the heavy slurring, and the slight sway as he towered above her.

'You're not going to lose your bones,' she could hear Arthur saying reassuringly.

‘Mum,’ George was saying urgently, ‘Mum, can you make us beans on toast?’

‘No I will not make you beans on flipping toast! I’ll make you breakfast at a reasonable hour, right now you need to-’

‘Molly,’ Arthur called, ‘Molly, I think we’ll need some Skele-gro-’

‘Noooo - no, Mr Weasley, it’s fine, look, I can-’

Arthur gave a horrified yelp. ‘Don’t do that!’

‘I’ll get it,’ said Ron loudly, and, weaving erratically, he crossed the room to the Healing kit on top of the cupboards.

‘Mum,’ George continued, ‘if I hover up those beans, they’ll be all right, won’t they? Ten second rule, and if I let them boil for a bit?’

In short, it was chaos. Noisy, drunken chaos. In truth, she found it rather amusing, though it was still equally easy to frown and scowl at them. Somehow, and she could not muddle through the boys drunken logic, rooms were assigned and she found herself - and, again, she could not quite see how she had ended up in this situation, guiding Harry into Ron’s attic room and trying to help him into pyjamas. She had noticed before that Harry was a little more open, a little more affectionate, when he’d had a drink, but she had never quite seen him drunk before, and though the first time he had stopped her on the way up the stairs so he could hug her had been rather endearing, by this point she was getting rather fed up.

‘Mrs Weasley,’ said Harry loudly. ‘Mrs Weasley - I-’

‘Come on, dear,’ she said, more grumpily than she had ever spoken to him before.

‘I love you so much, Mrs Weasley-’

Her heart melted in an instant, she tried very hard to hide her smile, continuing to hold out the pyjama top. ‘You need to get into bed, dear.’

‘I love this whole family-’

‘That’s very sweet, Harry,’ she said patiently.

‘Bes’ family in the world-'

‘All right…’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he slurred, and, though he was usually a very shy boy, he pulled his shirt off over his head, knocking his glasses half off in the process.

She looked politely away, but a few muttered swearwords made her look back, and, with a tut, she proceeded to help him untangle himself from the twisted shirt. ‘Hold still - this arm this way- that’s it-’

She had never realised just how covered in scars he was. On his chest, his arm…

The shirt fell to the floor, and she caught his glasses as they tumbled off his ear, and set them on the windowsill. When she turned back, he had one arm in the pyjama shirt, but was missing the other arm and twisting dramatically to try and get at it.

‘Silly boy, here you are,’ she said, helping him, and he started telling her thank you, over and over and over again. When it came to the pyjama bottoms, he seemed to realise that she was there, and gain a sense of shame, and he loudly asked her to turn away and not look, but when she went to the door to leave him to it, he shouted again.

‘No - no wait - Mrs Weasley don’t go, just don’t look - hang on-’

Finally, after the sounds of heavy, staggering hopping and a few more muttered swear words, she said, ‘can I look now?’ and he mumbled an agreement.

‘Oh, no, where are are my glasses?’ he asked, as she guided him to the bed. He sounded very worried.

‘They’re on the windowsill, and look-’ She pointed her wand at the bedside table, and a large jug of water and a glass appeared. ‘You’ve got water, and in a few hours you’ll have some food too, you just need to sleep some of this off. All right, dear?’

He collapsed heavily onto the bed. ‘You’re like the mum I never had,’ he mumbled into the mattress. ‘Mrs Weasley. My aunt never was this kind. Wish I’d been here all ‘long.’

She swallowed, and perched on the bed beside him, and reached out to brusy back his messy hair. ‘I wish you had too,’ she said quietly. ‘But you’re part of the family now, aren’t you? For good. I love you too, we all do.’

'I'm sorry,' he whispered suddenly, rolling onto his side with what must have been considerable effort.

'It's all right, you're just a bit drunk, you know I play the grumpy Mum act up a bit.'

'No. I… I’m sorry for everything I put you and your family through.'

She placed her hand against his face, and looked into his bright eyes. ‘I’d do it all again,’ she told him. ‘In a heartbeat.’

‘Would you?’ he asked quietly. ‘If you knew? If you knew everything that would happen?’

‘I absolutely would still talk to the little boy alone in Kings Cross,’ she said firmly. ‘In fact, I think I would probably go looking for him.’

His eyelids drooped, he sighed heavily. ‘Kings Cross… Thank you.’

Within seconds, she was sure that he was asleep, gone to the world, utterly unwakeable. She smiled, kissed him on the temple, and left the room. From the sounds of it, Arthur was still arguing with George about beans on toast.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #canon fest platonic #submission #tw: mild language #tw: heavy alcohol consumption

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

Kilgharrah: “Kill that child, Merlin.”

Merlin (like a normal person): “No?? What the fuck???”

And with that, everything changed.

Part 2 Part 3(final part)

“You must let the boy die.”

Kilgharrah’s voice echoed incessantly through Merlin’s head for days after the Druid boy’s appearance, and subsequent disappearance.

Merlin had, of course, ignored the scaly old bastard, and hadn’t once questioned if he’d done the right thing by hiding Mordred away in his tiny bedroom.

If the boy truly had such a terrible destiny, then the best thing for Merlin to do was to keep him close, if not to steer him away from his fate, then to at least be able to see it coming if it was indeed inevitable.

Currently, Morgana was the only one aware that Mordred was still here (other than Gaius of course, who was somehow disapproving and proud at the same time). As far as everyone else was concerned, Arthur and Uther included, the boy was never found, and must have slipped out of the city somehow (going by the extra patrols in the woods, as opposed to the castle and town).

The Warlock was nervous about anyone knowing at first, but when Morgana had tearfully thanked him for saving Mordred, and proceeded to sneak in spare blankets, food, and money for clothes, Merlin was glad for the co-conspirator.

The boy was currently curled up in the corner of Merlin’s room, a pile of blankets and pillows organised like a bird’s nest around him, wearing a soft shirt and sleeping the night away.

Merlin watched him from his bed, realising with growing horror just how protective of Mordred he had already become. He was so young. How could Merlin even consider punishing a child for some stupid destiny he didn’t even know about?

He had to think of a solution quickly. He couldn’t risk sending him away, not even to the Druids, they were as much slaves to the so-called prophecies as Kilgharrah was, and Merlin had once been (”Gods. Sounds like I’ve been dealing with destiny for years. It’s been like six months. I’m too young for this shit.”). But equally... what could he do with him??

Thankfully, no one had really gotten a good look at the boy, so hopefully with a change of clothes and a haircut, he wouldn’t be recognised, at least not if Merlin came up with a convincing enough story.

To be honest... the cover story worried him far more than the prospect of someone recognising him. Uther hadn’t recognised Nimueh, the woman who had been his court sorceress for years... the man was apparently not very observant.

In the end, it was a throwaway comment by Morgana a few days later, about a week after the Druid boy had “escaped” that gave Merlin a very stupid idea. So stupid, that it might just work.

Morgana had once again snuck away from the main castle to sit with Merlin and Mordred in the servant’s room.

Gaius had said nothing as she’d entered the Physician’s chambers, enough food for four hidden away in the picnic basket she carried, just raised his eyebrow slightly, and thanked The Lady for the food offering that was definitely-not-a-bribe.

She gave him a quick wink, and the old physician rolled his eyes fondly as he set an overturned bucket in front of the door; if anyone came in, they would come in loudly.

Mordred was happy to see her, and Merlin hid a fond smile at the boy’s quiet giggles. He still didn’t speak much, so it was a relief to see him finding joy in something, even if it was clandestine visits from Uther’s ward.

She ruffled his hair slightly, resisting the urge to pull the touch averse boy into a tight hug, and set the basket on the bed. Merlin sat against the pillows, and Morgana sat down opposite him, the basket in between them as Mordred clambered up to sit just in front of Merlin.

Morgana and Merlin talked quietly as they ate, Mordred staying silent as the adults (or...as adult as they could get. Like Merlin kept thinking to himself, he was too young for this shit at sixteen, and Morgana was only two years older than him) avoided the elephant in the room.

The elephant being that they couldn’t keep this up forever. Arthur had a habit of bursting in whenever he so pleased, and it was a miracle he hadn’t done so already. Plus, it would be cruel to expect Mordred to stay cooped up in here for much longer. He was a child, he deserved to play outside and explore and do all the other things he couldn’t do in Merlin’s bedroom.

Once they finished eating, Mordred moved to his makeshift bed in the corner, tightly clutching a book that Morgana had bought him, and furrowing his brows in concentration as he read.

Morgana stared at him with a soft smile, and Merlin sighed, once again worrying about his new ward’s future.

Morgana tilts her head, as if a sudden thought had occurred to her, and looks slowly between Merlin and Mordred as the servant raises a questioning eyebrow at her.

“You know Merlin, the two of you look remarkably similar.”

Mordred is engrossed in his book, and doesn’t react at all to Morgana’s quiet comment, but Merlin’s eyebrow goes even higher as he huffs out a laugh:

“You think? I don’t see it.”

Morgana looks at him with a deadpan expression:

“Merlin, you don’t have a mirror in here. I’m fairly certain you have no concept of what you look like.-”

Merlin looks indignantly offended for all of two seconds before he sighs and nods, she’s right to be fair. He’s tall-ish, with pale skin, and he thinks he has brown hair. That’s about all he knows.

Morgana chuckles as she once again looks at Mordred:

“You both have very dark hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin. You know...-”

She looks back at him with a thoughtful frown on her face:

“-if someone told me you were brothers... I’d believe it.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow:

“Really?”

She nods decisively:

“Yeah. I mean, the more I think about it, the more I look between you, yes. You could definitely be related.”

Merlin nods his head slowly, thinking. He takes in a deep breath and tilts his head slightly:

“It could work. I haven’t really talked to anyone about my family so... we could say that... he came to live with me? Because life here is... good?”

Morgana snorts slightly, rolling her eyes before looking back at him seriously:

“You’d have to be more convincing than that. You could say that the harvest was poor in your village? That Mordred was better off coming to stay with his big brother in the big city?”

Merlin nods at her words, grimacing slightly as he mutters:

“If we’re running with the whole... brother thing, I need to write a letter to my mum, just in case. Gods she’s going to laugh so much.”

Morgana laughs at him quietly, but the noise finally catches Mordred’s attention and he looks up in confusion. Merlin moves the basket to the floor, and gestures to the boy to come over.

He walks over wordlessly, climbing up to kneel between them, biting his lip nervously.

“Is it time for me to leave, Emrys?” echoes through Merlin’s head, and he gives the boy a comforting smile, shaking his head slightly, before saying out loud:

“You’re staying with me, Mordred-”

The boy smiles slightly as he stares at Merlin in reverence, and Morgana quickly hides her questioning gaze. She could see that there was more between them than simple protectiveness over a child, and thankfulness for being saved, but she kept her thoughts to herself as Merlin continued:

“-but we can’t keep you hidden in here forever, so we’re going to tell people that you’re my younger brother, come to live with me. Is that alright?”

Mordred nods his head vigorously, and Merlin chuckles slightly as the boy’s grin grew:

“Ok. We’ll get you a haircut and tell Gaius the plan. Probably wait a few more days for things to settle down further, and then see how it goes, ok?”

Mordred nods once more, smile not leaving his face. Morgana bites her lip to stop herself from laughing at Merlin’s shocked face when the boy threw himself into the servant’s arms for a tight hug.

Merlin spends the next few days teaching Mordred all about Ealdor and his mother and Will, so that the boy could have at least a little knowledge on what was supposedly his home and family.

The next time Morgana came to visit, she brought a comb and a sharp pair of scissors, as well as a few more changes of clothes that looked less... Druid. By the time she left that evening, Mordred had much shorter hair, and a wide grin on his face at the prospect of finally being able to go outside (he was Druid after all, he needed trees and fresh air).

The letter had been sent home, and Merlin was expecting a reply any day now. The only thing left to worry about was how to hide Mordred’s Druid marking. It would be easy to cover with clothes, but Uther’s increasing paranoia meant that it would be best if they could find a more permanent solution.

Gaius suggested some sort of glamour spell fairly quickly, but Merlin was unwilling to cast one on the boy until he’d mastered it.

And THAT meant showing up to serve Arthur with ink all over his hands that he had tried and failed to cover.

Merlin had also realised with dawning horror, that he would have to tell Morgana the truth. She knew about the marking, and she was smart, there was no way that hiding it wasn’t something that had occurred to her. She would bring it up eventually, and how could Merlin explain without having to... explain??

Morgana was already risking her favour with the King, and frankly, her life, by protecting a Druid... she would do the same for Merlin, right? But Mordred hadn’t actually done any magic... BUT she’d always spoken against executions... BUT Merlin had lied and hidden it from her, his friend...

Hmm...

In the end, he’d decided he would just have to suck it up, and tell her. Fuck whatever that dragon said. After Kilgharrah’s last round of... advice, Merlin had been ignoring his calls. If there was an emergency, the cryptic bastard would tell him, and until then he could just sulk in that cave on his own.

That two weeks was also enough for Uther to become convinced that the mysterious Druid boy really was long gone, and to just forget about it. He was pissed of course, but talking about it and extending the search just highlighted that a child, barely eleven summers, had managed to evade all of his forces and that... did not cast him in a good light.

It took Merlin about two weeks to fully master the spell, which was longer than the three of them were hoping, but he was adamant that he perfect it before he cast it on Mordred, and Gaius was incredibly impressed at his ward’s determination.

Morgana was of course confused about why they kept pushing it back, she thought they were only going to wait a few days before they started introducing Mordred, but she trusted Merlin and saw no harm in waiting a little longer.

When Morgana arrived that evening, she could tell that Merlin was... anxious. They’d agreed on a specific day to make introductions but it wasn’t until the end of this week, it didn’t make any sense for Merlin to suddenly be nervous about it.

Mordred wasn’t quite as good at hiding his emotions, and didn’t even giggle like he normally did when Morgana came over, just stared at his “brother” anxiously.

Morgana rolled her eyes and huffed as she shut the door:

“Alright, Merlin. What is it? Spit it out.”

Merlin opened his mouth, about to come out with an excuse, before he snapped it shut again and took a deep breath.

It worried him, how easy, how automatic it was for him to lie, but that was a worry for another time.

Mordred reached up and took his hand, squeezing it, and Merlin looked down at him with a weak smile before sitting on the bed and gesturing that Morgana join him.

She looked at him worriedly, but settles where he gestures, and doesn’t acknowledge the way Mordred sits defensively between them.

The boy looks back at Merlin:

“Are you sure, Emrys?”

Merlin gives him another smile, and squeezes his shoulder slightly as he raises an eyebrow:

“I’m sure. And you need to get used to calling me Merlin at some point.”

Mordred pouts slightly, and Merlin ruffles his hair as he laughs, before looking back up at Morgana’s questioning stare.

He takes another deep breath, before slowly speaking:

“I... we’ve found a way to properly hide Mordred’s marking.”

Morgana looks taken aback, but relieved:

“Oh. Is that all? That’s good isn’t it? I have to admit, it was worrying me.”

Merlin gulps:

“Yeah it... it is good... it’s just, it involves... magic.”

Morgana raises her eyebrow, and nods slowly, as if it were obvious:

“I figured it would be. It’s not like it would be easy or reliable to cover it with make-up every morning, or hide it with clothes.-”

It’s Merlin’s turn to look taken aback now, and Mordred fixes her with an unreadable expression. Morgana continues:

“-The problem, lies in finding someone willing to do whatever spell it is. Someone we could trust wouldn’t share the secret, no matter what.”

Merlin grimaces slightly, more gulping, and taking yet another deep breath:

“We already have someone. Me.”

Morgana gasps slightly, and she’s vaguely aware of the brothers in front of her tensing up, but all she can focus on is the gold of Merlin’s irises.

The gold fades, and Merlin clears his throat, breaking her out of her stupor. She reaches over and punches Merlin harshly on the arm before getting up and beginning to pace, speechless.

Merlin and Mordred panic at first, but when she makes no moves towards the door in her pacing, they relax. That only lasts for a moment or two however, before she looks back to Merlin, furious:

“Are you thick Merlin? Why on earth would you learn magic in Camelot of all places?? Do you have a death wish!?”

Merlin laughs slightly, cheeks turning pink as he rubs the back of his neck:

“Actually uh... I was born with magic; I’ve always had it. My mother sent me here because she thought I would learn to control it better.”

Morgana looks incredulous as she continues to rant:

“What? With the fear of execution hanging over your head?! That’s not control, that’s terror.”

Merlin shrugs:

“It works though. My magic is mostly instinctual, the threat of torture by pyre sure as hell stops me from losing control when I’m angry or scared or whatever...”

Morgana huffs, crossing her arms and fixing him with a glare. Both Merlin and Mordred cower slightly as they are reminded of angry and disproving mothers; as if they were about to be scolded for getting their clothes dirty, or ruining their dinner with too many snacks.

She just stares at him for a minute, before she sags slightly, and begins chuckling at the boys’ fearful faces:

“You are ridiculous. But it’s far too late to persuade you to leave now. Does Arthur know?”

Merlin’s face morphs into a mournful frown, as he looks to the floor and mumbles:

“No. I wish I could tell him but... with Uther...”

Morgana sighs, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder:

“Uther won’t be here forever. We’ll just have to keep Arthur from turning into too much of a prat before he becomes King.-”

Merlin laughs at that, and looks up to give the woman a grateful smile. She returns his smile before continuing:

“-So, you can do the spell?”

Merlin winces slightly and gestures for Mordred to pull the collar of his shirt down, to reveal a blank patch of skin:

“I’ve actually already done it. It’ll stay there permanently until I take it off. Though we should keep checking, just in case.”

Morgana looks surprised, and smiles:

“What’s the problem then?-”

She rolls her eyes when Merlin looks at her incredulously:

“-Oh, come on Merlin. I’m not going to turn you in, you’re safe with me. You both are, and you always will be.”

The servant jumps up to give her a tight hug, which she quickly returns as Mordred nervously joins in. Morgana smiles to herself, and squeezes her boys tighter.

She may love Uther and Arthur, and she knew they loved her back, in their own way, but this? This was family.

The time finally came for Merlin to introduce his baby brother. Hunith had supposedly dropped him off late last night and left immediately, having to get back home quickly.

Morgana had gone to gather Gwen and Arthur whilst Merlin and Mordred waited in their room (it was definitely their room now, instead of just Merlin’s).

It was early in the morning, and to say that Arthur was grumpy at being woken by Morgana instead of Merlin, was an understatement.

But he eventually caved, and dressed himself as he grumbled, allowing Morgana to drag him to meet Gwen (who was equally confused) before the three of them made their way to the Physician’s chambers.

Gaius was suspiciously absent, and Morgana knocked on Merlin’s door, before slowly opening it and walking in, Arthur and Gwen following her quickly.

Gwen was surprised at the sight of Merlin stood behind a child, hands protectively on his shoulders, but smiled and gave Mordred a soft wave in greeting.

Arthur however, froze, and stared at the boy with a shocked expression.

Morgana moved to stand next to Mordred, and took one of his hands as Merlin began to speak:

“Gwen, Arthur, I want you to meet my baby brother, Mordred. He’s come to live with me.”

Gwen waved again, and bent over to Mordred’s height:

“Hi Mordred, I’m Guinevere, but all my friends call me Gwen. I didn’t know that Merlin had a brother, but it’s lovely to meet you.”

Mordred gave her a small smile, and Merlin suppressed a chuckle as-

“I like her, Em- Merlin.”

-echoed through his head.

Arthur’s gaze moved away from Mordred finally, up to Merlin.

Merlin stared back at him blankly, but Arthur saw the way his jaw clenched as he moved a protective hand down, to pull Mordred closer to him.

The Prince let out a deep sigh, growling slightly as Gwen looked at him in confusion, and Morgana and Merlin stared at him challengingly.

He shook his head as his shoulders sagged, and he rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands before looking back to Mordred with a strained smile:

“It’s nice to meet you, Mordred. My name’s Arthur.”

With that, Morgana smirks slightly, and Merlin relaxes. Gwen just rolls her eyes:

“Sorry about him Mordred, he doesn’t spend much time around people your age.”

Mordred gives her another smile, and Merlin glances to Gwen, before looking down at Mordred:

“Why don’t you go with Morgana and Gwen to see the city a little? Me and Arthur need to talk, I’ll catch up with you later, ok?”

Mordred turns around quickly, and grabs Merlin’s hand tightly:

“You promise??”

Gwen holds in an “awww” and Morgana hides her smile. Mordred rarely talks aloud (she’d been told of the mental link), but she’s glad to see he was feeling at least a little more comfortable.

Merlin crouches down, and pulls the boy into a tight hug, stroking his hair slightly as he stares straight at Arthur:

“I promise. I’ll never leave you for long Mordred.”

Arthur gulps at Merlin’s hard stare, but gives him an almost imperceptible nod, which Merlin returns as he stands up. Mordred gives him one more look as he takes one of Morgana’s hands, and one of Gwen’s, and follows them out of the room.

Morgana shuts the door quietly, and Arthur sighs again before looking at Merlin:

“What are you thinking Merlin?? You just thought I wouldn’t notice?”

Merlin crosses his arms, his glare still hard:

“No, I knew you would notice, I just had faith that you’re a better man than your father.”

Arthur is still deep in his “my father can do no wrong” faze, and takes great offense at that, taking a threatening step forward and growling:

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Merlin just huffs and raises an eyebrow slightly:

“I had assumed that you were not the type of man to have a child executed, just for existing.-”

Merlin copies Arthur’s step forward, raising his chin and continuing, his voice low and dangerous:

“-Did I assume correctly? Because there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect that kid, Arthur. Nothing.”

Arthur stares at him incredulously, only managing to hold Merlin’s surprisingly confident stare for a few moments, before nodding and stepping back:

“Of course. He’s a child, Merlin, I won’t see him hurt, if I can help it.”

Merlin nods slowly, not looking away from Arthur as he softly says:

“I’ll hold you to that.-”

He walks around The Prince, opening the door and stepping halfway through before looking over his shoulder, and quietly saying to a confused Arthur:

“-If you truly believed that all magic is evil, and always corrupted, no matter what, then you wouldn’t care that he’s a child; you’d want him dead anyway. So perhaps think about your... prejudices, a little more deeply, maybe you’ll discover you are different to Uther in other ways as well.”

Before Arthur can even really process what Merlin said, the servant is shutting the door behind him, and rushing off to find his new brother.

OK SO!!!

I really LOVED writing this, there will definitely be more parts, I just figured I should end it here before I got carried away

This series is finished!! (Links at the top <3 )

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ashesandhackles · 3 years

Text

Deconstructing Harry: The boy we meet in Philosopher's Stone to the man in Deathly Hallows

I have often seen fans talk about how nebulous Harry is as a character, especially in the earlier books. They can't make sense of who he is as a character and other more colourful, more actualized personalities take over our attention from any traits Harry might display. Harry becomes more defined for a lot of people OOTP onwards where he displays traits that sometimes make him unbearable or unlikable.

Harry, as we are introduced in PS, has a very little sense of self. He is narratively self deprecating or plays down his presence or skills, not that he is aware he has any. He grew up without any presence of him displayed in the house - no photos, no idea about his parents or what they look like or what really happened to them and discouraged from asking questions. Harry as we meet him is neglected, rootless about his identity and longs for escape. For him, every day is a battle against Dudley, who bullies him or Vernon, thus setting a worldview that never truly goes away: him vs adults. But just because Harry doesn't attach traits or values to self, does not mean he does not have it.

It's an effective narrative tool though - for Harry to be our eyes of the world. Only in later re-readings can we get a grasp of the traits that become more pronounced as books go on. Also, it's not surprising that Harry develops a better sense of self when he is removed from an abusive home.

Let me begin with this:

1. Harry is a fighter

One of the things that struck me in later re-readings is that how much of a fighter Harry is, from the very beginning. He will not lie down and take abuse. The narrative presents it as no big deal, because Harry doesn't assign any importance to it - it's every day life for him.

-Verbal standing up-

See his reaction to Uncle Vernon and the letter fiasco. He stands up for himself, even if it falls on deaf ears. "I want my letter - as it is mine!". Later on, in the same book, a completely befuddled 11 year old Harry stands up to Snape too, but in a politer way: "I think Hermione knows the answer. Why don't you try her?". He gets less polite with Snape as books go on. Harry's humor is something he employs liberally with Dudley when standing up to him - "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it - it might be sick" and we see this trait manifest into the sass we all know and love.

- Fight or flight-

He is remarkably good at "fighting himself out of tight corners" as Snape put it. And although Snape attributes it to luck and more talented friends, he is onto something about Harry's ability to worm out of tight corners. He lives moment to moment in a dangerous situation - relying on his nerve, very fast reflexes and athleticism. He is also able to notice things in an environment that will get him out of a quick pinch. You see this clearly in Department of Mysteries in Book 5 where he comes up with the idea to smash shelves, the mad idea to escape on a dragon, the ministry escape where he manipulates Runcorn's image (as he noticed how people were reacting to him) to create chaos and get the Muggleborns and the trio out, Chamber of Secrets when he instinctively understood the diary is the source of power and stabbed it.

Where does the athleticism and ability to spot dangerous situation come from? This boy has spent a decade cheeking Dudley and running away from his gang, spotting when he needs to get out of the way as "long experience had told him to be out of Uncle Vernon's arms reach" or "ducking when Aunt Petunia aimed a frying pan at his head". The instinct to see a dangerous situation develops over the course of the books in his adventures - to the point Harry unconsciously brings out his wand in Tottenham road without thinking too much about it. He is almost always wary and less quick to lower his wand.

When hiding/ escaping is not an option, Harry is not above physical fighting - despite how small and skinny he is in Book 1. Both he and Dudley fight for a chance to listen at the door when letter first arrives for Harry. Dudley wins the fight. Later on, Harry jumps Uncle Vernon from behind and hangs on to his neck to get his letter. He even does the same thing to the troll in the same book. ( Then over the course of series, we see him beat up Sirius in Book 3, Malfoy in Book 5, strangle Mundungus in Book 6 - all of these are related to his fury over the dead, so different context. But still).

- Manipulation/ Cunning-

11 year old Harry even tries sneakily - waking up early to get his letter (unfortunately didn't work). The other sneaky methods he has employed throughout the series is - not telling Dursleys at end of PS that he is not allowed magic at home, threatens Dudley with it in COS, not telling them Sirius is innocent to play up the threat of a murderous godfather to keep them accountable, and also the smooth way he negotiates with Uncle Vernon for Hogsmeade letter. ("Well it will be hard work, pretending to aunt Marge that I go to St Whatsits" ,"Knocking the stuffing out of me won't make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her"). He similarly displays his negotiation and playing to what he knows about people with Slughorn in Book 6, Pettigrew in Book 7.

The scene with Slughorn is disturbing, with Harry coercing a drunk Slughorn to give up his memory. You can argue that this is the influence of Felix Felicis, but I think the potion acted more as facilitation. The disturbing way Harry brings up his mother's murder to unnerve Slughorn is his own doing. ("Voldemort stepped over my father's body towards mum" "I forgot - you liked her, didn't you?"). Again, in a life threatening situation, Harry plays to Pettigrew's latent guilt: "You are going to kill me? After I saved your life? You owe me Wormtail!"

2. Relational justice over abstract justice

Harry's concept of justice is relational and based on his high empathy for the underdog. He notices power dynamic in a situation and empathises with the victim. This is in contrast to Hermione, who has more abstract, bigger picture view of justice. It's no wonder that Hermione is the one who is the most political of the three.

His high empathy for the underdog and needing to stand up for them is because he feels responsiblility that no one should go through what he went through. He stands up for Neville in PS and encourages him to stand up for himself. When he sees his father bullying Snape, it is not about an abstract "this is wrong behavior". Harry goes further: "Harry knew what it felt like to be taunted among a circle of onlookers" , Harry focuses on young Snape's mismatched clothes because he himself knows what it's like to wear clothes that are not yours or ones that make you look ridiculous. His empathy extends to Voldemort too - understanding why he may not want to go back to his orphanage and desire to be in Hogwarts, wondering why Merope wouldn't stay alive for her son, his fixation with Voldemort's maimed soul in King's Cross chapter and later asking Voldemort to feel remorse (" I have seen what you will become otherwise"). Even his reaction to Dobby in COS - "Can't anyone help you? Can't I?" when Dobby talks about his slavery. Hermione is usually seeing the bigger picture, Harry sees the individual.

3. Pathological mistrust of adults

He is less likely of the trio to take an adult at their words or be assured by them when they say they are taking care of things. He has learnt, from a very young age, that he is always expected to take care of himself. And the times he does take things to adult, they consistently disappoint him - by patronising him or acting like he is a child, neither of which he has tolerance for or appreciates. This is why he takes to Sirius and Lupin, who exhibit neither of these communication patterns. In some ways, Mr Weasley too.

Umbridge's abuse of him for him is framed as a battle of wills between her and him, as if he is an equal. And he loses if he complains - "not giving her a satisfaction of knowing she got to me". Harry's worldview has always been - adult vs him.

His inability to trust adults even extends to the ability of adults he likes to look after themselves. While Sirius is understandably a wreck in OOTP, he has by and large followed Dumbledore's orders. This doesn't register with Harry (Ron points it out: "Sirius listens to Dumbledore even though he doesn't like what he hears") and Harry's fears about Sirius, excaberated by Sirius's tendency for recklessness, comes to play.

He even showed similar distrust in Lupin's judgement in taking a potion from Snape in POA ("Harry felt the urge to knock the goblet out of Lupin's hands" and tries to hint at Lupin that Snape will "do anything" for DADA job). And he shows this once again with the most magically powerful wizard he knows - Dumbledore. ("if I tell you to abandon me and save yourself, you must do so". Dumbledore has to insist on this before Harry nods reluctantly. It's also Dumbledore's wording, but this is a wizard Harry feels safe with almost entirely because of his power - and yet Harry cannot obey an order like this without reluctance). It's not about Harry's own ability to take care of them - he just innately cannot leave people to it.

4. Humor as a value and coping mechanism

Harry has an established coping mechanism by the time we are introduced to him - quip in the face of danger/ dark humor. There are repeated instances of Harry amusing himself with snarky comments in his head when things are really bad for him. Like in PS, when they are in the hut, Harry wonders if the roof will fall in and then thought that if it did fall in, he might be warmer. In the earlier books (before his growth), he seems to value Ron over Hermione simply because he is more "fun". Harry enjoys being around funny people like Ron, Weasley twins, later Ginny simply because there is some dark stuff happening with him and he needs "fun" people for semblance of normalcy, escape. In fact, this desire is so strong, he attaches it to his romantic relationships: Ginny is a "blissful oblivion" and times with her are "something out of someone else's life". His relationship with Cho failed because her coping mechanism is discussing her trauma and Harry's is escaping it.

-dealing with conflict with people he likes, small digression-

A part of his growing up in later books includes valuing Hermione as much he values Ron and we see it in display in HBP, where he is more willing to stand up for her to Ron (something he kind of did more quietly before in POA - "can't you give her a break?" ) and also get confrontational with her instead of using Ron as a buffer between them to fend off her more boisterous/ bossy tendencies. ("let him make up his mind" "skip the lecture" "don't nag" - Ron took the heat in earlier books. In HBP, Harry is more willing to be irritable with her in a day-to-day interaction - "I hope you enjoy yourself" he tells Hermione when she states her intention to investigate Half Blood Prince. Or when she tests the book - "Finished? Or do you want to see if it does backflips?" "Do you have rub it in Hermione, how do you think I feel now?" at the end of HBP. ) In OOTP, his best method to deal with her when she bothers him was lying, avoiding her nagging and if that doesn't work, explode and treat her to display of his temper. There is more to explore here, of course - even with regard to how he deals with Mrs Weasley in Book 4, 5 and the difference of him hugging her in Book 7.

5. Fascination with the dead/ a passive death wish

Harry feels remarkably little sense of betrayal knowing that he was set up to die by Dumbledore. His self sacrificing streak is rooted in his love, yes, but I also think Harry is a little bit too fascinated by death, not surprising considering most people he loved are dead. Him wanting the resurrection stone in DH, him obsessively spending time at Mirror of Erised (to the point he feels feverish and Ron thinking he looks strange) until Dumbledore stops him, him almost wanting to fail to learn a Patronus because he wants to hear his parents voice, the hearing of whispering voices in the Veil in OOTP which only Luna could hear apart from him, the scene at the grave where he almost wishes he was "lying under the snow" with his parents, the possession scene in the book of OOTP has him wishing to die so he can be with Sirius. You can almost argue the Harry has, in many moments, shown raw desire of death. In fact, him choosing to let go of the stone and not go looking for it is a big character decision for him.

I also want to address Harry's temper and how that develops over course of series, the implications of understanding the people he loved and put on pedestal are flawed - but I am afraid this post is already way too long. So I will leave that for some time later.

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minaramen · 2 years

Text

Torao Midou - 16 Idol Album - Part 2: The superhero play from my memories

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

*Little Torao’s room*

Torao: Take that! Historangers, the World’s Four Great Civilization Squadron’s KO hit! Mesopotamia twin reverse kick!!

Torao: Gwaaaaah!

Torao: I bet you’re sorry for trying to fight me now, huh?! Kiga the Devil!

Torao: Ah! You won’t beat me with such a weak kick! Gahaha!

Torao: What?! Did Kiga the Devil become stronger?!

Torao: Fafafa!! What do you think, Historangers!! That’s Kiga the Devil’s true form, Giga-Kiga the Devil!!

Torao:...... nii san is late

Torao: He said he would be back by 5 o’clock, and it’s already past 6…and he even told me we would play Historangers together…

Torao:...we need your help, Historangers!

Torao:............

Torao: Okay, things are bad now! Giga-Kiga the Devil is about to stomp on the city! But we’re not gonna let you, Giga-Kiga the Devil!!

Torao: It’s time to release the Historangers’ special power…! Come out! King Historanger Robot!

Torao: Useless!! Nothing can compare with Giga-Kiga the Devil!!

Torao: Wah!!

Torao: Damn….!! If only I had the Miracle Historangers’ Belt, I could become a Miracle Historanger and my power would be a million times stronger!!

Torao:....if only I had the Miracle Historangers’ Belt…

Torao’s brother: What if you had it?

Torao: If I had it, I could gain the power of the Miracle Historanger….Nii san!? When did you get back home?!

Torao’s brother: Literally one moment ago, Torao. Here I am!

Torao: Welcome back, nii san! I’ve been waiting for you the whole time!

Torao’s brother: Ahah, I came back and I immediately rushed here! You’re an elementary school student now, but you’re still a spoiled child!

Torao: That’s not true! Both my teachers and my friends say that I’m a person of strong character!

Torao’s brother: I see. This is so like you, Torao. How was your school day? Did something nice happen?

Torao: Yes!! Listen, listen!

Torao: We got the results of the math test and I got the best score! Also, during Japanese class I raised my hand many times and answered many questions! Teacher praised me too! And then…

Torao’s brother: I see, I see. You’re amazing, Torao! I should follow your example!

Torao: But you’re amazing too, nii san! You did all your school work properly, and now you’re studying to help dad with the company!

Torao’s brother: Ahah, thank you. Dad says I’m not that good… but when you hug me like that, my tiredness immediately disappears!

Torao: Really? So, if I’m with you your power increases?

Torao’s brother: It does.You really are my Miracle Historangers’ Belt

Torao: Hooray!! Then I’ll do a lot of practisize, so I can help you!

Torao’s brother: Practisize?Ah, you mean practice! What kind?

Torao: Uhm…Historangers hide themselves in the mountains to work out, and also to study a lot

Torao: So, I can take lessons as well…

Torao’s brother: Taking lessons? You can’t. You don’t need to work out. What if you get hurt in the process?

Torao’s brother: I’d be sad, you know that? And the same goes for dad and mum

Torao: But Historangers say that if you train your body you train your spirit as well, and you can develop a sense of justice by doing so

Torao: I want to develop a sense of justice as well…!

Torao’s brother: You don’t have to go through all of this, you can just take it easy and do it by yourself. Also, if you take lessons you won’t have any time to spend with dad and mum, since they’re already so busy

Torao’s brother: …mh? Torao, what happened to your knee? Did you scrape it?

Torao: What? Ah, this one…I just fell down at school while I was playing tag with friends, during lunch break…. but it doesn’t hurt at all

Torao’s brother: You mustn't do dangerous things. Today you got off easy with a scrape, but worst case scenario you may end up with a fracture

Torao: I’m sorry…I’ll pay attention from now on…

Torao: What should I do…? Will dad get angry…?

Torao’s brother: Dad won’t get angry at you. Even if he does, the reason is that he’s worried because you’re too cute. Do you understand?

Torao: Yes….

Torao’s brother: Don’t worry, I’ll come with you to apologize. Next time you get an injury, be sure to tell the housekeeper

Torao: Understood….

Torao’s brother: Don’t make such a face

Torao’s brother: Oh! Let me see what happens now in your story…! Was it something about Historangers, the World’s Four Great Civilization Squadron? They were fighting against a huge enemy, right?

Torao: Were you watching me, nii san?!

Torao’s brother: You seemed really into it, so I didn’t want to interrupt you. C’mon, let me see how you take down the enemy

Torao:....I can’t. I don’t have the Miracle Historangers’ Belt

Torao: Since Giga-Kiga the Devil is super strong, I can’t take him down unless my power becomes a million times stronger. And I need the Miracle Historangers’ Belt for that

Torao’s brother: I see…is he really so strong? This Giga-Kiga guy…

Torao: It’s Giga-Kiga the Devil! It’s an enemy that makes humans starve to death

Torao’s brother: Mh? Giga-Kiga…?

Torao’s brother: Aah, it’s Kiga, like “starvation”! The most natural way to destroy civilization is threatening it with hunger, after all ( TL note: 飢餓, “starvation” in japanese, is pronounced “Kiga”)

Torao’s brother: Historangers is way deeper than I expected… years ago I was very much into Ramanujanu the Math Warrior, and it was pretty deep as well

Torao: Yes, superheroes are amazing! But I don’t have the power to beat Giga-Kiga the Devil right now!

Torao: Because the Miracle Historangers’ Belt has just been put on sale!

Torao’s brother: Are you possibly referring to this belt?

Torao: What…?! Yes!! That’s the Miracle Historangers’ Belt!!

Torao: Nii san, why do you have it?!

Torao’s brother: I saw many people lining up in front of a toy shop when I was coming back from school

Torao’s brother: When I asked the employees they told me that a new belt had been put on sale, and I wondered if you’d wanted it. So I lined up and I bought it

Torao’s brother: Take it. Your power should be alright with this

Torao: Wow! Thank you, nii san! Okay, it’s time for the transformation!!

*Shade in and out*

Torao: I put on the Miracle Historangers’ Belt!! Cradle of civilization!! The Miracle Historangers’ belt is unchained!!

Torao’s brother: Oooh, how cool!

Torao: Who do you want to be, nii san? You can be Giga-Kiga the Devil!

Torao’s brother: A-ah…I see…

Torao’s brother: Hihihi, come and get me, Historanger!

Torao: I’m wearing the Miracle Historangers’ Belt now! You can’t defeat me!

Torao: Gaaaaar!!! Aaaah…!!

Torao’s brother: Ah! I caught you, Historanger! You’re about to suffer my attack! Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle~~~!

Torao: Kyahahaha….! Unfair! Tickle tickle is unfair!

Torao’s brother: It’s not unfair, Historanger! But since it annoyed you so much, take it again! Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle~~~!

Torao: Stop…! Ahah…! Eat this…!!

Torao’s brother: Gwaaaah! A mysterious light from the belt! You got me….stomp!

Torao: Hooray!! I took down Giga-Kiga the Devil!!

Torao’s brother: Ahah, you’re very strong, Torao. Is the mysterious light from the belt some kind of tactic?

Torao: Yes, it's the Historanger’s beam attack! I invented it

Torao: Actually it should be the light that comes out during the transformation, but it’s so cool that I decided to make it a tactic

Torao’s brother: I see. That’s why it’s so strong, then. Because it’s something you invented

Torao: Hey, nii san, let’s do it again! One more time!

Torao: This time we’ll start from the moment you’re still Kiga the Devil, instead of Giga-Kiga the Devil

Torao’s brother: Got it, got it

*Brrrrrr*

Torao’s brother: Ah, dad is calling me. Sorry, Torao, I need to answer

Torao’s brother: I’ll turn on the TV, you can watch it while waiting for me

Torao: Okay……

Torao: Ah! There’s an advertisement for the Miracle Historangers’ Belt!

*Torao’s brother, walking away*

Torao’s brother: Torao really likes superheroes. I wonder why he loves them so much

Historangers: “You can be a superhero too! Wear your Miracle Historangers’ Belt and join us!”

Torao: Yes! I’ll join you!!

End of part 2

#torao midou #Idolish7 #idolish7translation #16idolalbum

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bakugohoex · 3 years

Note

hi i love your works <3! i was wondering if you could write a little lighthearted scenario where reader makes an egg omelette for her crush jean (pref post timeskip? is okay if that can't work though), but somehow sasha and connie finds the omelette and eats it when reader steps outside the kitchen, leaving her confused on what to do? sorry, that's a big blog of a sentence! i hope it made sense

“you brats ate it didn’t you”

pairing: jean kirschtein x female reader

cw: aged up, fluff, language

word count: 1600+

a/n: hi thank you so much for the support, hope you liked it and it’s fine it all made sense to me i changed the ending a bit cause i think it fit better but i hope you still like it

summary: in which you make an omelette that jean’s mother had taught you how to make for the boy to confess your love for him, but sasha and connie had other ideas in mind

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

Four long years, four long, strenuous years of planning the next move, getting rid of all the titans and having seen the sea multiple times already. Being back in Trost, the sounds of the streets bustling with happiness was new and would never have been expected four years ago. The way people admired the survey corps now, admired the regain of Wall Maria and the faith they had of a better world outside the sea.

“Y/n, dear, have you got everything you need?” Jean’s mother had been helping you find the ingredients you needed for the famous omelette she made for him when he was a kid. You had met his mother previously; she was a lovely woman and in a matter of minutes had known your crush for the boy. Having finally gotten the nerve to confess, his mother being the sweetest woman alive offered her helping hand.

Having shown you how to make it and now you’d have to go back to the Survey Corps kitchens to make it yourself. It was a lot having not ever made anything in your life it was worrying to say the least. “Dear, stop looking so frightened my Jean boy will love it.” You smile at the woman taking a deep breath.

“Thank you Mrs. Kirschtein.” You give the woman a gracious look, she really was the greatest mum, even after how Jean treated her after she visited in the training days. You knew he loved her, he loved lots of things, this omelette hopefully being one of them.

You walked through the gates, going towards the stone building that was housing you for a couple days. Seeing Sasha and Connie fight over some food, you didn't bother to question it, “Y/n, you’re back.” Jean smiled running up to you, his long hair curling at the bottom just reaching above his shoulders.

“Yeah, I got everything I needed; your mother was a great help.” You didn't explain what you had gotten, wanting it to be a surprise for the boy.

“You were with my mother.” Your eyes flashed red at how stupidly you had said it.

Trying to recover your words, “i met her on my way out, she offered the help.” He smiled before trying to peek inside the bag you were holding.

“No peeking.” You slapped his hand away, chuckling at how he pretended to be hurt.

“Oww, what is it? A surprise?” He grinned out.

“Yes, it is.” You stood tall walking to the kitchens that were rarely used. You didn't really even know why they had one, but you didn't question it.

Jean followed trying to find out what it was, “what is it Y/n?” He pouted before trying to put his hand again in the bag.

“Jean.” You scowled grabbing the bag before he could grab it.

“Whoever it’s for must be a lucky man.” He scratched the back of his head before putting his arms on the table leaning against it.

“Who says it’s for a man?” You knitted your eyebrows and crossed your arms, of course it was for a man, more specifically the man in front of you.

He raises an eyebrow staring at you with his light brown eyes, you stared back not knowing what to say. “No woman decides to just spontaneously make a surprise meal for their friend, and you wouldn't make shit for Sasha.”

You had to agree with him there, “it’s a surprise Jean, I can't tell anybody.”

“It isn't for Captain Levi is it?” Your eyes widened at the thought of Levi even tasting your food, you could only imagine the grimace look that would plaster onto his face.

“God no, please Jean I’ll tell you later who it's for?” You really just wanted to make it and get it over and done with, it was a confession, and you were scared you'd mess it up and having the 190cm tall boy hovering over you would most likely not help you in any way.

“Yeah, yeah.” He muttered leaving, he had only pestered you as a way to hide how jealous he felt. Was it to Eren, he had seen you talking to him a couple weeks ago, but it couldn't be. Unless it was someone you knew in Trost, worry filled his mind, the love of his life confessing to another guy. He looked down, hands in his pocket as he walked away, whoever the fuck it was, was a lucky man.

The piece of paper with the recipe fell onto the countertop, it was easy enough you didn't know why you had even felt worried when making it was easy, the two eggs going into the pan, the other pan with the filling and your ingredients for the sauce being chopped up, having put the filling into the omelette, the smell of it intoxicated the air. But worst of all it had gotten outside of the kitchens and directly to where Sasha and Connie both were.

“Do you smell that?” Having stopped fighting over the bread and potato, Sasha became rabid sniffing the air as she ran forward, like a woman on a mission. Connie followed, having nothing better to do, “it’s eggs and… potatoes.” She continued sniffing rambling on about the ingredients.

Just as you had finished every component and added them all together, the omelette looked like how Jean’s mothers was. It looked perfect and even smelt perfect as well, if being a part of the Survey corps didn't pan out you knew you’d have something to fall back on, or death. Death having a higher percentage of occurring, you played it up leaving it too cool on the side as you left the dishes on the side to do after you had brought Jean back with you.

Exiting the kitchen, you walked to the opposite direction of where both Sasha and Connie were, they both found the smell, the plate being left unattended. “Dinner is served.” Sasha gleamed, grabbing a fork that you had left on the side.

“Sasha, it could be someone’s...” Connie warned.

Sasha hadn't heard and instead started digging into the food, Connie reluctantly trying some as well. If it smelt nice it had to taste nice, and God did it taste perfect, like heaven for their mouths.

Whilst this was all occurring, you saw Jean with Eren, an unusual sight but then again, they both were somewhat friends. Jean noticed you coming up to him, but a fear erupted, were you actually here for Eren instead? “Jean.” You smiled at the boy, you had put a little note underneath the plate so once he finished you could grab the plate and leave him to read it. It was trivial but you were too scared to say it out loud.

Jean was waiting for the can i speak to Eren alone, but it never came instead you put your hand out. “Come with me.” He complied, grabbing your hand, your soft warm fingers interlaced with his own, even though the confidence of holding his hand you were scared shitless at the thought of rejection.

“You're going to tell me who it’s for now.” He chuckled through having been dragged the whole way, just as you entered the kitchen, shock filled your eyes and Jean looked between you and the scene.

The empty plate with Sasha and Connie putting their forks down, “you brats ate it didn’t you?” You seethed out letting go of Jean’s hand, they had ruined the surprise and all you could do was stay in shock.

“I’m so sorry, I told Sasha not to…” Connie trailed off seeing anger come from you.

Jean saw the dishes and had an idea for them to make it up to you, “because you two ate it, you both can clean up.” Connie obliged not wanting to get hurt by you and Sasha was in a partial food coma at how much she’d eaten.

“Y/n, it was fucking amazing.” She chuckled following Connie to the dishes.

Jean went over to the plate, “don’t forget this.” Just as he lifted the plate up to pass it, you remembered the note hiding underneath, his name written right on top of it. Your eyes widened but it was too late to say anything, Jean had grabbed it and had flipped it over.

It was for you, I fell in love with you, I’m still falling in love with you

The three lines melted his heart, he watched how your eyes began to become saddened from his silent expression. He went to speak but you didn't dare look at him, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have.”

Jean went over stuffing the note in his pocket before taking you away from Sasha and Connie, “you love me?”

“Don’t mock me Jean, just reject me if you…” Before you could finish your sentence, his grip of his hands moved to your face, grabbing it and your hair, your lips collided together in an instant. You could feel his teeth against your own, his tongue moving along with your own. Your own hands had moved to his locks of hair, feeling it entangle through your fingers, you were actually doing it. You were kissing Jean Kirschtein, your love, your happiness, your home. He heard your soft moan through the kiss making his heart go wild, your confession had been a surprise, always believing his love for you to be unrequited but here you were in his arms.

Finally letting go to breathe, his hands still brushing your hair out and cheek away, he went down to your ear, soft kisses against your jaw before speaking the four words that melted you, “I love you, too.”

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @katsuhera @answer-the-sirens @animexholic @wapbenders @the-shota-king-masayuki @bakugousmrs @crystal-lilac

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neonlights92 · 4 years

Text

RUN: Chapter II

Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for. He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants. So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly. And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed.

You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook. So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos. How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?

WARNINGS: Language, some violence and eventual smut.

A/N:ENJOY!!!!

Your wedding came and went like the wind.

It hadn’t been a large affair - barely more than fifty people had attended - but your mother had cried of course, and so had Jungkook’s mum, and at the end of it you were Mrs Jeon.

Your new husband had kissed you at the end of it - gently, quickly, like it didn’t really mean much - but you couldn’t help it that your heart skipped at the feeling. Your first kiss with the man you’d spent most of your life loving, and it was like vapour.

And now here you were, stood in the foyer of Jungkook’s apartment, wondering what the hell you were doing. You felt like some kind of imposter - a woman only pretending to be Jungkook’s wife. You tightened the hold on your suitcase, the one your mother had made you pack only a week prior.

“Most of your things will be sent over in the days after you marry,” She’d told you, eyes mischievous, “But you’ll need something special for your wedding night.”

You scoffed.

Your wedding night had been anything but spectacular.

Bangtan had splashed out on an incredibly expensive hotel complete with matching robes and expensive champagne, but you’d spent most of the night alone. You hadn’t been able to bare much of the reception, claiming a headache only an hour and a half into the festivities, and though Jungkook had seemed less than happy about it, he’d told you to make your way to the hotel room without him.

Of course, when you’d arrived all you’d done was to get into bed and cry yourself into some kind of dreamless sleep, feeling like nothing could ever make you happy again. Hours had passed before Jungkook joined you, and when he did, you didn’t mention the smell of perfume on him, and he stayed far, far away from you.

You shook your head furiously, trying to rid your mind of all those horrible memories.

One day, you hoped, you’d have beautiful children, and then you could shower them with all of your unrequited love.

“Are you listening to me?”

Jungkook’s voice shook you out of your reverie and you turned to face him sharply, eyes wide.

“What?”

He sighed heavily, “I said you can either move into the guest room or join me in the master bedroom. What would you prefer?”

You knew what your heart wanted of course.

As stupid as it may have been - and it was astoundingly dumb - you still wanted to share Jungkook’s life with him. You wanted to be able to indulge in the intimacies of marriage and your chest tightened as you remembered what you were to your husband - a hindrance.

“Will it be alright if we share different beds?”

He rose a dark brow, “What do you mean?”

“Your employees,” You clarified, tucking some hair behind your ears and avoiding his eyes, “They won’t think it’s… Inappropriate, will they?”

You hated the strange code of conduct you were being forced into. You loved Jungkook - you wanted to give him yourself, whole heartedly - and yet you had to walk around the truth. You had to pretend like every moment you spent here wasn’t causing irreparable damage to your heart.

Jungkook shrugged, “So what if they do? I don’t give a shit what people say and neither should you. You should sleep wherever you prefer.”

The words hung in the air and you watched his face carefully.

He knew how you felt about him didn’t he? So he had to know you’d prefer sharing his bed. You collected yourself, and after a moment smiled gently.

“Then I think we should share the master bedroom.” If he was surprised he hid it well.

“Okay. This way then.”

You followed him down the hallway and stared at the planes of his back. The suit jacket he was wearing hugged his shoulders perfectly, and despite yourself something in your stomach swelled.

You were his wife now, weren’t you?

Did that not come with certain expectations?

You wondered if Jungkook even found you attractive. Surely if he wanted you in any capacity, he would’ve come looking for your company on your wedding night.

You bit back the tears. Now was not the time for this.

The master bedroom was big of course, but basically empty. Jungkook cleared his throat as you stood in the doorway to the room, observing your surroundings.

“I don’t spend a lot of time at home,” He started by way of explanation, “So urm… That’s why everything’s quite bare.”

You nodded slowly, “I understand.”

“You can do whatever you want in here,” He waved his hand noncommittally, “Within reason, of course.” The joke was weak but you pushed out a soft laugh nonetheless.

“Is that all you have with you?” He pointed at the small piece of luggage you were holding.

You shrugged, “My mom insisted she’d have the rest sent over to me,” You dropped the suitcase at the end of the huge bed you’d be sharing with Jungkook for maybe the rest of your life.

“So what’s in there then?” He cocked his head to the side, confused.

You felt your cheeks blush, brazenly, and you cleared your throat, more than a little uncomfortable.

“She told me to pack some things for the wedding night,” You answered, finally lifting your gaze to meet with his, “It’s not a big deal.”

But you knew that was a lie. Your heart was beating rapidly at just the thought of Jungkook knowing you’d brought intimate clothing along with you, and you knew that the only reason you’d told him it was because you wanted him to think about you scantily clad in lacy underwear.

You wanted him to be attracted to you, despite the fact this marriage was born out of duty for him. You thought that maybe if he wanted your body, you could find a way to open up his heart as well.

“They still do that?” Jungkook’s voice was painted with disbelief.

You quirked a brow, “Do what?” “The whole wedding night lingerie thing,” He laughed tightly, “My hyungs all told me about it but it just sounds… Kind of outdated to me.” Another stab in the heart. You tugged a hand through your hair.

“Oh.” He frowned carefully and sighed, “I’m sorry. Did that hurt your feelings?”

It pained you how easily Jungkook saw through your armour. How would you survive a lifetime with him? How could you hide from his gaze when he knew you so well?

You felt stupid and useless suddenly.

“No.” You replied, voice catching slightly at the end, “You’re right. It is outdated.” You thought of the racy red number your mother had insisted Jungkook would love. He would never see it of course - but part of you had hoped he would. Part of you had hoped he’d not only see you in it… But love you in it, too.

It was a foolish hope.

“Is it alright if I rest?” You asked him after a moment, smiling despite the tears that crawled up the back of your throat, “I’m really quite tired. It’s been a long week.”

Jungkook’s eyes searched your face and you forced your expression into one of neutrality. Just because he knew how you felt - just because he knew you loved him - didn’t mean you always had to be the vulnerable one.

You could learn to protect yourself. You’d grown up around monsters. Around people who manipulated and hurt others.

You just had to learn how to navigate this new reality.

This marriage.

“Yes of course,” Jungkook told you once his eyes had searched right down to the very depths of your soul, “Dinner will be served at around seven, okay?”

You nodded, tightly, “Fine.”

He watched you for a moment more, before finally slipping out of the door and allowing your facade to finally relax. You crawled onto the king sized bed, and pulled the blankets up around you - finally giving way to the tears that had been scratching the back of your eyelids since the minute you woke up this morning.

And as you lay in the bed you’d share with your husband - crying once again over the man who had your heart but didn’t deserve it - you promised yourself that this would be that last time.

That you wouldn’t cry over Jeon fucking Jungkook again.

And even though you were lying to yourself, you repeated that mantra to yourself all night. Over and over again.

Until finally you fell asleep.

And even then you dreamt of him.

The days passed through your fingers like sand. You spent more time than ever pining after Jungkook - qua though the two of you now shared a bed, nothing had changed.

During the day your husband was barely home. And even when he was he was always too busy to pay you any attention.

And at night you slept as far away from each other as possible. Most nights were spent falling asleep to the sight of the planes of his smooth back.

Jungkook wasn’t cruel. He always spoke to you kindly. He smiled whenever he saw you, and occasionally laughed at any jokes you tried to make.

But he was distant. Always held you at an arm’s length.

He never searched out your company, and you wondered if maybe that was because he knew how you felt. He knew you loved him - he knew you’d loved him for so long - and maybe he didn’t want to make matters worse.

He had never promised you love. In fact… He had almost promised you the polar opposite.

And so you spent most of your time alone.

Today was no different.

You tugged on the thread you were using to patch up one of Jungkook’s suit jackets - no doubt he’d created the tears during one of his many business meetings - and sighed heavily to yourself.

You’d seen the jacket earlier that morning, hanging in your shared closet, when you’d noticed the hole. Perhaps it was a need to make Jungkook happy, or perhaps it was boredom, but either way now you were sitting with a needle and thread, fixing it.

A knock at the door pulled you out of what you were doing.

“Come in,” You said softly, expecting Jennie to be on the other side. When the portal opened and it was actually Nayeon you stood excitedly, dropping Jungkook’s jacket and rushing over to her.

“Did you miss me?” She smiled widely as you rushed into her waiting embrace, squeezing her tightly.

“Oh my god, so much,” You pulled back and felt your eyes well up with tears, “Sorry. I’m so emotional these days.”

She grinned and ran a hand through your hair, “Nothing to apologise for.”

You led her over to the small couch that sat in the corner of your bedroom, and the two of you sat down together.

“How have you been?” She asked after a moment.

You wiped at a tear that had unceremoniously tracked down your cheek, “He barely talks to me.”

The words were not accusing, but there was sadness in them.

Nayeon frowned, “He’s acting like a real jackass.”

“No,” You shook your head vehemently, “It’s not his fault. This whole situation… It’s fucked up.”

“Still. He shouldn’t be mean.”

“He isn’t,” You insisted, “We just… He’s hardly at home as it is… And when he is the last thing he wants to do is talk to me.”

“I’m sorry Y/N,” She really did look sorry too.

You shrugged helplessly, “How many marriages in Bangtan are loveless?”

“Whatever. I just hope he’s not…” She stopped herself abruptly and clicked her tongue, “Never mind.”

You quirked a brow, “No…What were you going to say Nayeon?”

”I don’t want to upset you more,” She answered honestly, eyes shifting across your face carefully.

“There’s next to nothing at the moment that could make me feel any worse.”

It was a terrible sentiment, but it was the truth. Things seemed so bleak that you couldn’t imagine any information would cause a further rift in your already distant marriage.

“It’s just…” Nayeon tugged a hand through her hair and pursed her lips, “You know what Jungkook is like. He’s always dated lots of women at the same time. I’m just - I hope he’s ended those relationships.”

Your heart sank.

Immediately his words from earlier that month rolled across your mind.

I’m not a man of commitment.

Did that mean he didn’t want to be faithful to you? Was he warning you of his inability to keep to just one woman for the rest of his life?

You hadn’t even considered the possibility that Jungkook would cheat on you. Sure, he’d told you he might never love you… But an affair would be too much, wouldn’t it?

“I don’t - we haven’t spoken about that.” You felt your voice shake.

“I know my brother can be a bastard,” Nayeon shook her head, “But if he cheated on you… I would never forgive him.”

Her words fell on you like concrete.

Would you be able to forgive him?

In a sense, Jungkook didn’t really owe you faithfulness did he? In fact… He might have very well warned you against it.

You swallowed thickly.

“You should ask him about it,” Your best friend’s words were resolute, “If he cares for you… Even a little bit, then he’ll give you that respect.”

She was right of course.

Arranged marriage or not, he still owed you basic decency.

You nodded gently, “You’re right.” Your chest was tight as Nayeon reached over and squeezed your hand, “I will.”

Now you would just have to work up the courage to do it.

Nayeon’s words played over and over again in your mind for the following week. You had thought you were strong enough to bring it up to your husband but the truth was every time you wanted to do it, the words had slipped into the back of your throat. Just one look into Jungkook’s dark brown eyes and you had found yourself rendered helpless.

“Y/N.” Jungkook’s voice caused you to look up as you finished working on his suit jacket, “Hi.”

“Oh.” The word left you in a rush, “Sorry. I didn’t realise you would be home so early.” It was a Friday afternoon - sometime after four - and he was standing in the doorway of your bedroom, watching you the way he always did.

“What are you doing?” Your fingers faltered and you pulled the jacket up slightly, “Fixing this for you. It’s been my pet project for the last week.”

“Oh.” He mirrored your expression of surprise from earlier, taking a step towards you, “I see.” There was a beat of silence and then, “Why?” You tightened your grip on the jacket and felt your stomach roll over in anxiety.

“Why what?”

His eyes flickered, “Why are you fixing it for me?” Because I love you.

Of course you couldn't say that, so instead you opted for a shrug.

“Something to do, I suppose.”

After another long moment of watching, Jungkook smiled softly.

“Thank you,” He said, words warm, “That’s very kind of you.” You blushed at the compliment, however small it may be, and returned his smile, “It’s nothing.”

“I uh…” He cleared his throat and shook his head, “I realised that I forgot to tell you something quite important.” You cocked your head to the side, “What is it?” “Tonight. There’s a gala. One of Jimin’s things…”

You felt something akin to excitement swell inside of you. It was sad… But any reason to spend time with Jungkook was something to be celebrated.

“Right.” Your smile widened, “What time?”

“Eight pm,” He told you carefully, “And you’ll need to dress up.” “I know that don’t worry. I’ve been to Jimin’s galas before,” Your voice was slightly teasing and you almost reprimanded yourself for it.

Perhaps once upon a time you could joke with Jungkook like that, but things were different now… Weren't they? Except Jungkook didn’t seem annoyed.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes, “How could I forget? You and Nayeon love causing trouble at the expense of my poor friend Jimin.” You giggled, “We both know Nayeon is the mastermind behind any and all trouble caused,” You shrugged, “I’m a helpless bystander.” “Helpless my ass,” His lips fell into a smirk, “Just because you look like an angel doesn't mean you always act like one.”

Your heart flipped.

An angel?

Jungkook must have noticed the change in your demeanor, because he suddenly seemed awkward himself. He coughed slightly and tugged a hand through his dark hair.

“Anyway. Just uh… be ready at half seven, alright?” His face had slipped back into that infamous Bangtan mask, but you were still warm from his earlier words.

“Okay. I will.” “And uh… Will the jacket be fixed for tonight?”

You felt slightly dazed. Jacket?

“Huh?” His smile was small but he nodded towards the piece of clothing you were gripping so tightly your knuckles had turned white, “Your pet project.”

“Oh right.” You turned the jacket over in your hands and nodded, “Yes. Yeah. It’ll be ready.” “Great. I’ll have Minhyuk prepare the matching trousers for me, then.”

He smiled once more before leaving, and you realised you were holding your breath.

God.

It felt like you had been punched in the stomach.

But you sort of liked it.

“You look beautiful Y/N.” Your maid Jennie tugged the brush through your hair one last time, “The red is striking.” You ran a hand down the bodice of the dress you’d chosen to wear - something stupidly expensive and incredibly tight - and smiled at her nervously.

“Thank you.”

“Jungkook isn’t going to know what to do with himself,” She giggled and your grin widened.

The two of you had always been close, despite the gap in social status.

You didn’t care what tradition dictated, Jennie was your friend - employee or not.

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” You chuckled, biting on your bottom lip, “What time is it?” A knock at the door caused your head to turn and Jennie smirked.

“He’s right on time.” Your stomach fluttered at the thought of your husband, and when your maid moved to throw the portal open you almost fainted.

He looked… so good.

“Hi,” He smiled gently, “Are you ready?” You knew you were checking him out but you couldn’t help yourself.

The suit jacket you’d fixed for him fit him perfectly… And the trousers he was wearing only served to accentuate his perfect thighs.

“Y/N?” He cocked his head to the side and your heart twinged as a lock of hair fell precariously across his forehead.

Damn it.

Jennie pinched your arm and you realised how obvious you were being.

“Sorry,” You cleared your throat, “Yeah. I’m ready.”

You weren’t ready at all. Not to spend the rest of the evening in close quarters with the man who made you feel like a lovestruck teenager, anyway.

But what choice did you have?

Jungkook led you towards the garage, where his very expensive Porsche was parked, and when he held the door open for you, your pulse squeezed.

“Thanks,” You said, cheeks blazing.

Jungkook’s eyes flickered as he watched you climb inside, “No problem.” He answered tightly, clicking the door shut and sliding into the driver’s seat.

It wasn’t until you eased onto the main road that Jungkook spoke again.

“You look nice,” He said, his eyes meeting yours in the rearview mirror.

You turned to face him, your heart thumping uncomfortably against your ribcage, “What?”

“Oh come on don’t act like I’ve never said anything nice to you before,” He groaned, “You’ll make me feel like an asshole.”

“Oh I uh…” You blushed hotly, “Thanks. I guess.”

“You guess? Wow, way to take a compliment, Y/N.” His tone was teasing and you felt yourself falling back into the friendship you’d shared with him before the two of you had been forced into marriage.

This was the Jungkook you fell in love with.

“I just didn’t expect you to say that,” You clarified, turning to look at this side profile.

God he was so handsome, it almost hurt.

“Well it’s true,” He shrugged and shot you a small smile, “You look nice.” “Well so do you.” The words slipped out of you eagerly, “The uh… The suit jacket looks great.”

His smile grew, “It does. Thanks to you, of course. My little seamstress.”

Your heart skipped.

His little seamstress?

“Right,” You choked out, “Well. If you ever need anything fixed then just send it my way.”

“I will.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you but all you could think about was the fact that he’d called you his. Sure, it was in jest, and yeah maybe it wasn't the most romantic of things to say… But still.

It had to count for something.

When Jungkook pulled up in front of the same hotel Bangtan always used for social events, your heart was still fluttering wildly in your chest, but you forced yourself to remain calm.

There were paparazzi milling around the front entrance of the hotel of course, like there always were whenever Jimin organised a gala. Suddenly you felt inadequate.

You’d never been photographed before - your family was not famous enough… You were not beautiful enough for the media to give a shit.

But you knew that Jungkook was well loved by the media - not only was he Bangtan’s resident casanova - but he was also the most open of the special seven. He smiled for photos and had even occasionally bantered with the paparazzi. He dated celebrities - models, singers… Actresses. He was the media’s golden boy.

He was everyone’s golden boy.

Jungkook must have noticed your nerves because he turned to give you a soft smile.

“It’s alright Y/N. Just hold my hand and ignore them okay?”

You nodded, wordlessly, as he stepped out of the car and after a minute opened your door for you. Immediately you felt the buzz of flashbulbs, and you were almost blinded by the light. A warm hand enveloped your own and soon Jungkook was tugging you along.

You blinked against the flashing and watched your husband’s sturdy back, as he led you towards the front entrance determinedly.

“Jungkook! Jungkook! Is this your mysterious new girl?” “Jungkook! Is it true you’re married?”

“Jungkook! Smile!”

Jungkook didn’t stop for any questions and you were thankful for that, holding tightly onto his hand until he finally slipped inside the lobby of the hotel and the paparazzi was behind you. He dropped your hand and you immediately felt cold.

“Here,” He offered his arm, “This is the way Jimin’s always telling me to enter a room.” You nodded and slipped your own arm through his, ignoring the buzz that flitted through you at the contact.

God. You loved him so much.

“Was that as bad as you thought it was going to be?” He asked, eyes sympathetic as he led you over towards the ornate marble staircase.

You bit your bottom lip and sighed, “It was tough.”

“I’m sorry,” He frowned, “Really. It will get better.”

“Jungkook-ah!”

You would recognise that voice anywhere.

Jihyo.

She was coming towards the two of you, beautiful face donning a wide smile. Her eyes flickered between your linked arms for a moment, before she reached you.

“Hello Jihyo,” Jungkook nodded his head politely, “How are you?”

“I’m great Jungkookie,” The nickname caused a hot flush of anger to roll through you. You knew exactly what game she was playing, “How are you?” “I’m fine,” He turned to give you a smile, “You know my wife Y/N, don’t you?” Jihyo’s body froze at the word wife. She was Taehyung’s cousin.

Surely she had to know the two of you had gotten married.

“Yeah, yeah.” She gave you a sharp look, “Nice to see you Y/N.” But her words felt anything but nice.

Immediately you were reminded of Nayeon’s warning.

Your heart thundered against your chest.

What if Jungkook and Jihyo were….

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“Anyway Jungkook I was going to ask you if you were free next weekend,” Her smile was coy as she fluttered her eyelashes up at your husband, “It’s my birthday and-” “We have plans.”

The words surprised you as much as they did Jungkook and you’d been the one to say them.

Jihyo’s gaze flickered over to your own and she raised an angry eyebrow, “What?”

“Me and my husband have plans next weekend,” You pasted the fakest smile onto your face, “Maybe next time.”

And with that you pulled Jungkook away from Jihyo pulse roaring in your ears. You had no idea where that bout of courage had come from but just who did she think she was anyway?

Just because she’d always had everything she wanted, didn’t give her the right to act like a brat.

After a moment, Jungkook turned to give you a smirk, “What was that?” You tried to act nonchalant.

“What was what?”

“That.” His smirk grew, “Were you jealous?” You felt something hot split across your cheeks.

“I don’t want you dating other women.”

The words fell like stones between the two of you.

Jungkook stopped, his eyes raking over you. He frowned.

“I wouldn’t… I would never do that.” “You told me you weren’t a man of commitment,” You told him sincerely, feeling irrational tears crawl up your throat, “But I can’t… I won’t be able to deal with it if you have an affair.”

Jungkook’s eyes softened. He shook his head.

“I didn’t mean I would see other women Y/N.” He pressed a hand to your cheek and you wilted at his touch, “You’re my wife and I respect that. Alright?”

You nodded, eyes boring into his. You wished he would just open himself up to you.

“Okay.” You whispered, not caring that you were surrounded by people, “Thank you.” He pulled his hand away and nodded gently.

Something in his gaze flickered. Whether it was genuine affection or desire or something else entirely you weren’t sure. But it wasn’t that cold indifference he wanted you to believe.

“Let’s go. The others are waiting.”

Your heart turned as he slipped his hand into yours.

If only he could learn to love you, then maybe you really could be happy.

If only.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #fanfic #mafia au #arrange marriage #unrequited love #one sided love #bangtan #bts #fanfiction #angst #smut #fluff

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jaskierisbi · 3 years

Text

lines and verses from every amazing devil song that hit

King

But our voices collide with each howl of the tide || Singing all hell and its fire waits for us

All that matters || Is that you’re here

Pruning Shears

My entire life it's running away too fast || Watching everyone I've ever loved walk past || Never really quite getting the knack of || Knowing no one will not || Ever come back for you

Shower Day

Would have stayed if you'd had asked || But instead you just walk past

You're the one who told me my hair looked better black || You're the one who told me to never look back || You're the one who asked me if I'm feeling ok || I said I'm fine || It's just a sitting down in the shower day

Leave the room but you get caught in the rain || Know you should love him but it's such a pain || Would have stayed if you'd had asked || But instead you just walk away

Elsa’s Song

I can hear the cannons calling || As though across a dream || And I can smell the smoke of hell || In every stitch and seam || And like flowers, the bodies tumble || Around this muddied lot || I cannot hear them scream || ‘Forget me not.’

Pray

Pray for me, I'll run until I begin to understand || What holy men really mean || When they speak of sin

God made all man in his image || Honey I'm I'm I'm no man || I'm what’s left when children go to war

Run from you, I'll run until I begin to understand || What holy men really mean when they speak of sand and sons and seams and symphonies and sweat and sex and sin

Why you cannot sleep for sighing || Why womanhood is more than crying || I'm stronger now than you have ever known

The cracks you made I fill with mortar || A broken pot can still hold water || Symphonies and sweat and sex mean nothing when you are obsessed || With sin and soil and strength and song and all the words that came out wrong and him

Little Miss Why So

Did you tell them about the time we met little miss || You'll love the way I tell it || And I'll yell it from the rooftops for you || He says

He says || You're going too fast || You'll burn up soon

I don't know how to reach you when you get like this || I've been waiting for you to come home || I don't know how to reach you when you get like this || I've been waiting for you to come home

Why won't you just tell them all to fuck off love and be mine

He says || Why so sad || I'm here and I'm alive || Stop making up death wishes and take my lifeline

Why won't you believe I love you if I'm not hurting you, he says || Can't you see that I'm enough for you but you don't want me to be || 'Cause that means you'll actually have to be content

Why so why so sad || Stop asking why I'm sad just know it's enough to know I'm sad

New York Torch Song

But your blood does not bleed red no more || It's whiter than the sun burns, bright with every hum || From within this gaping wound of ours || A new us has begun. A new us has begun. A new us has begun

Tear me up and burn me up and rip me up and leave your || Hand on the wall as you go

Are you god or devil, ghost dishevelled || Childhood friend or drunken revel

I cannot find the words to keep you || I cannot find the words to keep you

Two Minutes

It's like all the wallpaper inside my heart || Is slowly slowly peeling off || And I'm showing || All the stains and things || They wrote on the wall before

These hands are growing cold ||They're running out of things to hold || Give me two damn minutes and I'll be fine

If I'm good will you come back || If I'm good will you come back || If I'm good will you come back || To us

Not Yet/Love Run

Sing me awake with a song about pirates || And I will try to harmonise || And sip the sunlight from your eyes || Oh sing me awake || With all the things we’ll do today || But instead we’ll build a den || Out of pillows and get drunk again

If my old mum could see me now || Oh how she’d howl she’d howl

Love run, love run || For all the things you’ve done || Run for all the things that drum || Run for all those pages thumbed

Love run, love run || For all the things we wished we’d done || Run from all you know that’s coming || Run to show that love’s worth running to

All that matters || Is that you're here ||All that matters

- - - - - - - - - -

The Rockrose and the Thistle

n/a sorry y’all

The Horror and the Wild

You are that space that’s in between every page, every chord and every screen || You are the driftwood and the rift, you’re the words that I promise I don’t mean

We’re drunk but drinking (sunk but sinking) || They thought us blind (we were just blinking)

Remember me I ask, remember me I sing || Give me back my heart you wingless thing

Think of all the horrors that I || Promised you I’d bring || I promise you, they’ll sing of every || Time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child || Witness me, old man, I am the Wild

Wild Blue Yonder

So one last time, love, come and rip my clothes || Get a grip, we're grownups

Come and rip off my socks like you’re blasting the locks off of a bank vault. Halt! || This time we’re done for

Let’s hide under the covers || We don’t know what’s out there || Could be wolves || So hold me, lover, like you used to || So tight I’d bruise you || I’d bruise you, I’d bruise you too

Every stone you threw, I stood on to better see the view

Don't you ever wonder, what could have been? || All those wonders sit in wait for us, we tried

Every brick you hurled, I’ll use to build this world || This world, this world, this world

Welly Boots

And I love you, don’t you know || That I’ll be with you all along, as long as you are kind

And when you scream that it’s not fair || It’s like I’ve gone off to the coast || Left you behind just standing there || Pretending not to see your ghost || If only you could hear my voice || But you are screaming far too loud to hear me swear || Just because I left doesn’t mean that I’m not still there

'Cause you were always strong || When you were young, you’d kick things just to see if they would fall || They said ‘That girl, she’s wrong’ || But I’ll stick up for you, even though you haven’t got a clue, you haven't got a fucking clue

Farewell Wanderlust

He said ‘Hey darling hey, hey darling hey’ || I’m the hardest goodbye that you’ll ever have to say

I promise you I’ll be better || I promise you I’ll try || But like rubbing wine stains into rugs it’s my curse || To try and make it right, but by trying make it worse

I promise you I’m not broken || I promise you there’s more || More to come, more to reach for, more to hurl at the door

Goodbye to all my darkness, there’s nothing here but light || Adieu to all the faceless things that sleep with me at night || This here is not make up, it’s a porcelain tomb || And this here is not singing, I’m just screaming in tune

Fair

It’s what my heart just yearns to say || In ways that can’t be said || It’s what my rotting bones will sing || When the rest of me is dead || It’s what’s engraved upon my heart || In letters deeply worn || Today I somehow understand the reason I was born

She laughs as though she’s not heard the joke ten thousand times before || And he adores her, he watches her get dressed as though she’s hurtling through time

And she brushes her hand through his hair, he’s got so much fucking hair

And he holds her close just to keep the world at bay

"It’s not fair, it’s not fair how much I love you || It’s not fair, 'cause you make me laugh when I’m actually really fucking cross at you for something," || And he’ll say || "Oh how, oh how unreasonable || How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do || I spend my days so close to you 'cause if I’m standing here, maybe everyone will think I’m alright,"

'Cause darling I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades

And calm throughout his melodrama, she will turn and say || "Dear heart, it’s me, it's me || You don’t need to pretend to be someone you’re not || 'Cause it’s not like I’ve never heard you fart and snore || And for some godforsaken reason || I’m still here, love, like I’ve always been before,"

Burying her head into his chest and clinging to the moment || "Where have you been?" she’ll whisper || "I’ve waited oh so long for you to come" || And as the stars above them hum and hear them || He’ll turn to her and say, "That’s what she said"

That Unwanted Animal

You try so loud to love me || I cannot seem to hear || ‘Be good to me,’ I whisper || And you say ‘What?’ || And I say ‘Nothing dear’

I’m the paper cut that kills you || I’m the priest that you ignored || I’m the touch you crave, I’m the plans that you made, but fuck all your plans I’m bored

And you rip my ribcage open || And devour what’s truly yours

'Cause if we join our hands in prayer enough || To God I imagine it all starts to sound like applause

Marbles

And I chipped my teeth on every joke you cracked

You stole the best years of my life || I’ll give them back

'Cause I will wait and hope || Your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep || But a place for crows to rest their feet || And I will wait and hope || And rest my head at night content || Knowing where my marbles went

She sang, ‘Do you think I’m sexy?’ and oh god I really did

Oh, if one more guy calls me darling then I || Swear to you and to god I will murder them all

All the bastards applaud when I show that I’m flawed || You’re not flawed darling, you’re just a little under-rehearsed

I’ve loved you, for a hundred years || Certainly fucking feels like it

The minute I met you, the colours of my life began to pour

And now, even though you’re mad and these memories won’t stay || That's okay || 'Cause then I get to meet you for the first time every single day

Battle Cries

Tell the truth to me, love, does my hair look as nice || As it did when you once tangled up in your eyes? || Look at me as you say this, don’t look at your phone

‘Cause these plates they smash like waves || And the wine stains hide the tears || But that breathing you hear, don't mistake it for sighs || Don’t you realise? They’re just battle cries, dear

And these lines aren’t wrinkles, dear heart || They’re just dollops of paint on a new work of art

And as I walk away, I know I’ve been through the wars || But that creaking you hear in my bones is not pain, it’s applause

This isn’t a break up, dear heart, it’s a season finale

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soft-for-them · 3 years

Text

husband has a real ring to it ♡ sam wilson x male reader

anon: hey so like, being sam wilson's husband (or new husband) at your wedding??? (sorry it’s a bit short...)

i haven’t specified if the male reader is cis or trans but there is a bit in here where the reader compares themself to steve, whether you see this as the reader being trans or cis is up to you.

the gif has no significance it’s just a good gif... also there is a HUGE lack of sam content out there. people get you shit together and write about my fave man. not proof read.

It is an odd time.

The country you now stand in is completely foreign to you. Nat can speak the language; you think it might me some form of Russian. If you could guess you think you might be in the Ukraine or a country that was once a part of Soviet Union.

None of the on the run Avengers will tell you exactly where you are for you safety but you don’t care.

All you care about right now is the blazer you just tried on is too wide at the shoulders.

Even Steve says the shoulders of the jet black jacket are too wide even for him and that saying something coming from a man who was artificially made to be the spitting image of masculinity and heroism.

Sometimes you do get jealous of the super soldier and how he came to be.

Once a skinny and short kid now the second most handsome man you’ve ever seen, sometimes you think ‘if only i was as strong as Steve and not a useless civilian’.

Thought if anyone hears your negative thoughts in this small, cramped room off the side of a small abandoned church you would be done for.

Natasha, Wanda, Steve and Sam have always loved you and they don’t tolerate your pessimism at all. None of them will take your self-loathing especially on this very day.

But that’s the thing, you’re not self-loathing today. You push away any non-happy thoughts and put on a genuine smile.

It may not be official in the eyes of the law for your other half is a wanted war criminal but your getting married to your long time boyfriend Sam Wilson today and nothing will stop you from doing so. You have both promised that he will properly marry you but for now you have agreed to exchanging rings.

‘Where did you find this place?’ you ask Nat as she takes you too big blazer from you.

The place is completely and utterly abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Plants have caved in apart of the roof but the stained glass still absorbs and reflects light making the rotten pews look like the seats of a king.

‘I knew you might not want to get married in a church but this is the safest place I could find, that with the fact this is no longer a place of worship.’ She walks over to you and tucks a handkerchief into your white dress shirt pocket.

Regardless of if your religious or not you know this place is a perfectly acceptable place to trade rings with the man you love.

Nat looks you over and smiles, her arms wrapping themselves around you in a rare hug.

‘You look very handsome (y/n).’ she mutters.

‘Even with my beard?’ you half joke, referring to the scraggly hair growing back on your chin from shaving it off the week before for a disguise.

‘You have a better beard that Sam and Cap put together.’ Her tone is joyous but utterly serious which makes you smile grow even bigger.

You do not feel any negativity, all you feel is utter euphoria in your wedding attire.

‘You ready to go’ she whispers like a happy mother about to marry off her only son.

All you do is nod as you let her lead you out to the alter where you both wait for Sam and Cap to arrive.

Wanda sits in a front pew; she very obviously misses Vision and if it was up to you he would be here to celebrate for you had befriended the synthetic man before the ‘civil war’ happened.

But alas none of you can risk you all being found out on your unofficial wedding day.

For a moment you all wait in silence looking up the stain glass of some kind of saint.

This isn’t the place you want to get married in but you can see it’s charm even if it’s been abandoned, ransacked and left to rot.

You can imagine Steve giving Sam a prep talk, for he had given you one about an hour before.

When Steve had talked to you he seemed like a overjoyed father, even with the tears in his eyes, you’re still thankful the super soldier talked to you.

Your waiting is cut short as the side door that you and Nat had came through opens to show both Steve and Sam.

Steve walks out first, holding the door open for Sam then Sam walks out, his eyes automatically on you.

‘Ow, I though Steve was going to walk you down the aisle.’ Wanda quips to Sam despite her brooding feelings.

A short conversation goes on between Sam and Steve (probably another pep talk) but all you can focus on is Sam looking at you as he talks to Steve.

Steve pats Sam on the shoulder, which turns into a hug, then he lets him go.

Sam wears a suit very similar to yours; a simple black suit that could be found quickly and very easily without being detected by Tony or an of the American government.

The woman in the small mum and pop shop where very kind to you both despite their being a language barrier, they had helped you get the suits for a good price.

Much like you also Sam wears no blazer jacket, with you don’t mind considering you can see every muscle through the hand made white shirt.

‘Where’s your blazer?’ you ask.

He walks right out to you and holds your hands. His hands are cold but you assume it’s from standing around in a derelict church for a while.

‘It was too small in the shoulders.’ He smiles, the gap in teeth showing.

‘Ah, that could have been my blazer Sam.’ You laugh grabbing the attention of the others. You all laugh at the mishap of the mixed up blazer but that doesn’t really matter.

Wanda stands up and passes both of you the rings; one single silver band with your name carved on the inside for you and a much fancier looking ring for Sam. Despite Sam’s ring looking more expensive it’s actually very cheap.

He had quickly bought it when you were all hiding out in China, Sam had quickly realised that he had a ring for you but he didn’t have one for himself. He’s had your pure silver ring for years now waiting for the right moment to give it to you.

‘How do we actually do this?’ you whisper whilst the other sit down on the pews.

‘I don’t really know, maybe when just exchange the rings and say something.’

‘Like vows? Do we kiss?’ the questioning isn’t really that serious for the two of you are smiling like idiots.

‘Well all I can say is that I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you-’ Sam begins saying as he slips the silver ring on your finger, ’-I love you my husband.”’

’Wow… husband has a real ring to it.’ You beam as look down at Sam’s hands, you fingers nimbly placing his ring on, ‘-Does this now mean I get to kiss the bride?’

Your joke not only makes yourself laugh but you can hear the laughter of the other in the background.

‘Gladly.’ Is all Sam say before holding your face and kissing you.

honestly i don’t think this is the best thing ever but i’m posting it.

i’ve been writing a lot of ftm trans reader requests today so i kind of automatically wrote the reader as trans at first. i’ve changed it so the reader can be cis or trans but i just putting that out there just in case i’ve forgotten to change something. (sorry)

also i know that many people have different types of weddings and cultures so i’ve tried to make it as ambiguous as i can, that why it’s not a technically legal wedding.

anyway, sam is the best and i would love to write more fics for him!

#sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x male reader #sam wilson x ftm reader #x male reader #x ftm reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #sam wilson

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wannabemobwife · 3 years

Text

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas- Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Dressed to the Nines

Dad!Mob!Tom Holland x Mom!Mob!Reader Fanfic

-Pairings: mob! Tom Holland x reader

-Warnings: Language

-Words: 3.9K

Background Info- Tom Holland is boss of his mafia and Y/N Holland, his wife, is former mafia boss turned stay at home mom but still joined Tom on his business trips and meetings. They started dating at 19 and were married at the young age of 21, realizing they only needed each other. They have two kids together, both ages 16, Parker and Rosie Holland.

*Realistically to have two teenagers, Tom and Y/N are both in their mid/late thirties but they look like they are in their mid twenties/late twenties alright. What can I say, they have really good genes. I can guarantee that Tom will still definitely look as gorgeous as he does know in his 30’s.

Author note: I enjoy writing drama, so it’s hard to have constant fluff, mostly angst (I hope, at least what I consider angst). The more times where a character almost dies but doesn’t the better to me. This is my first fanfic, I wrote this story based on being married with kids because that is the part of my life I’m most looking forward to. Heads up but there is tons of dialogue, I find that the most fun to write.

Also I enjoy PDA and a personal goal of mine is to be married for 20 years and still want to jump my husband’s bones so there are a bunch of little hints like that through the fanfic. Sorry if your name is any of the characters, feel free to change them in your mind. I know it’s stupid of me to say that but whatever.

Chapter 1: Dressed to the Nines

Words: 3.9K

You and Tom were a power couple. The Hollands, the ones with the most power and the most dangerous. A king and queen to their empire. Lately you had been tackling married life together and had been raising two kids. A boy named Parker and a girl named Rosie both the same age. But nothing could prepare you for what every parent dreads, their teenage years. All the hormones, mood swings and relationship drama that comes with it.

When both the twins turned 16 it was big turning point in your family. Rights of passage as Tom would say. You and Tom threw a massive gala to celebrate their 16 years of being alive. Tom as the leader of his own mob, money was no object and you coming from the family you did and being a former mafia boss, you both had truly opulent wealth. It was the night of their kids’ sixteenth birthday and everyone was invited from family, friends, business associates and even enemies. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer they would say. Tom and tried to keep as much as possible from your kids, trying to give them a normal childhood. Failing over and over again at that. Some nights Tom would come home bloody from beating up someone who crossed him. Or there would always been strange, bulky, built men surrounding your mansion for protection. It was hard to explain everything to the kids, but it was something they just had to do for family.

The party was about to begin, 7:00 on the dot, and the house was decorated to fit a very elegant yet youthful look. Caterers dressed in white carrying bountiful trays of appetizers. Tom and you adored the luxury of their life, even though they knew if they didn’t have all the materials they did they would be even happier. Their family is what mattered most to them. You were dressed to the nines, in a lace gold gown, with sparkly stilettos on. Her Y/H/C hair gracefully laying one her back, without a strand out of the place. And her Y/E/C eyes were beaming, if looks could kill they would. Tom couldn’t help but admire you.

“You know, it’s rude to gawk,” you said and Tom chuckled.

“I’m sorry but you’re just too beautiful not to,” he responded and placing his hands on your hips.

Rolling your eyes and smirking you said “tonight’s the night.”

“I know, should we do it now?” he questioned as his half smile turned into a frown.

“No, let him have this one more night. Without any obligation,” you had been dreading this night for years.

“Alright, darling,” he said as he kissed softly, he just couldn’t contain himself he

found his other half. The person that makes him want to be a better man. His soulmate.

Like any family there are skeletons in their closets but, the Hollands were a whole another story. Tonight was the night, one they had been dreading for 16 years, to be exact. You and Tom’s son, Parker would be tasked with the most difficult decision of his life. One that will rewrite his story. Tom wishes he would just turn it down and do what he didn’t have the balls to do when he was his age.

The day Tom’s dad brought him into the office, he knew his life would never be the same. Dom, his father and former boss of the Holland empire, made it very clear that if he turned him down, he could forget about being in this family. Tom just knows he won’t give the same ultimatum. Parker being the oldest and only son of Tom and Y/N Holland is the future of their family empire. Parker was quite popular, a playboy actually and very dashing. Wearing a black suit with a black tie and a white shirt he look just like his dad with his brown hair slicked back. Being one of the guests of honor tonight he had to look the part. Slowly made his way to the bar before his mother could find him. Desperately needing some liquid courage, he quickly poured himself a shot of vodka and downed it even faster. However nothing gets past, you, Y/N Holland.

“Parker Jackson Holland!” you fumed, catching her 16 year old son drinking.

“Hey, what’s with the middle naming me, it’s my birthday,” he responded a little startled.

“You should not be drinking, ever. You got two years, mister,” you explained.

“Alright, mum,” Parker sounded annoyed.

“Where’s your sister by the way, party is supposed to start in 10 mins,” you said as she noticed all the guest starting to arrive. A line of people already waiting at the door but everyone knew the Hollands preferred people to arrive fashionably late.

“I don’t know. Having a fit probably. Last I heard was screaming coming from her closet.”

“I’ll go check on her. Your father and I need you sober later. Understood?” You exclaimed.

“Yes, mum.” Parker was a good boy on paper but, enjoyed breaking the rules.

Right as you turned away, Parker then started to pour another shot.

“Don’t even think about it,” you said still walking forward. Parker chuckled and set the shot down.

You went to go check on her daughter. You knocked on the door when she heard something shatter. Rosie may seem timid but she definitely inherited Tom’s anger issues.

“Honey? Is everything alright?” You questioned, startled by the outburst.

“Yeah, mum. I’m sorry,” Rosie muttered seeming frustrated.

“It’s ok, oh honey!” You exclaimed, noticing the tears on her daughter face

“I know, this is stupid,” Rosie whispered trying to hide her tear stained face.

“No, no it isn’t. What’s wrong?” you said, genuinely concerned for her daughter’s well-being.

“I don’t know everything, this dress, my hair, my makeup,” she exclaimed frantically.

“Baby, you look beautiful.”

“Pretty enough that someone would want to dance with me?” Rosie whispered. You were caught off guard that your daughter could ever have thoughts like that.

“Yes of course, you are always gorgeous.” You hated seeing your baby girl beat herself up based on her looks.

“Thanks mom, I have a question?” You just nodded in response.

How did you get dad to fall in love with you?” Rosie asked inquisitively.

“Um, I guess was just myself. I didn’t put on a facade and I was very honest and transparent with him,” you answered a little taken back from the question.

“You were yourself? I find that hard to believe. From stories I’ve heard you seemed to be bold, brave and beguiling” said Rosie with a hint of sarcasm.

“Am I not those things now?” You asked, cheekily.

“No you are, just in a different way.”

“Honey, whoever you are trying impress, will love for who you are, ok?” You couldn’t stand seeing her daughter like this.

“Alright. Can you help me with my makeup?” Rosie asked because her previous makeup had been ruined by her miniature breakdown

“Yes, of course.”

Back at the party Tom was making his way around saying hello to almost everyone. He desperately needed to find his son. Tom’s and Parker’s relationship was interesting to say the least. As babies and toddlers Tom was there. He loved his kids so much but as they grew older they only noticed the times he wasn’t there. Only the missed recitals and football games, never all times that had dinner as a family and he tucked them in to bed at night. Parker is closer to his mother and his twin sister. Never really having that man to man talk with his dad yet. The time when fathers stop seeing their sons as boys and look at them as men. Tom approached Parker sitting there with his a drink in his hand, he hoped was a watered down Pepsi.

“Hey Parker, did your mom talk to you already?” Tom asked, not trying to raise too many questions.

“No, she might have mentioned something,” Parker responded.

“Ok, well after cake meet me in my office.” Parker nodded in response and noticed how he tensed a little at the conversation.

Their chat quickly ended when Harrison and his 16 year old son Henry came to wish happy birthday. Harrison is Tom’s right hand man, his consigliere and his best friend. He was more than that, Harrison was family. Harrison’s son, Henry was best friends with Parker and Rosie, ever since birth.

“Hey mate,” Tom said to his best friend Harrison.

“Hey, just came to wish this guy “happy birthday”” he said patting Parker’s shoulder.

“Happy birthday, dude” Henry said to Parker and he returned with subtle “thank you’s.” Parker slightly nodded to his dad to see if he could leave the conversation and Tom let him know it was ok.

“Come on, let’s go,” Parker exclaimed making his way to den where his other friends were.

Harrison was the first to speak up, “Have you told him yet?”

“No, Y/N and I are going to do it tonight” Tom uttered with a low toned voice.

“Geez, do you need me there?” Harrison asked, afraid Tom might say yes. Harrison was there when Tom went through the same process with his dad. Tom’s anger issues didn’t help the outcome.

“I think I’m alright, just family. Not that I don’t consider you family but I don’t even know if Rosie should be there.” Tom justified.

“It’s alright mate, I get it.”

They were both enjoying their night, making their rounds, Tom and Harrison went to get drinks, not beer this time but a scotch on the rocks as this was a classy night. Everything was dandy up until one of Tom’s men, William, came up to him informing Tom of a problem.

“Sir we have a problem,” William whispered to Tom, Tom nodded for them to follow them to his office.

“William, what now? Can’t you see I’m enjoying the party?” Tom exclaimed, closing the doors to his office.

“Sir, Daniel, was found dead at his post outside, shot by a tranquilizer gun, with a note taped to his chest, it’s for you.” William announced and handed the paper to the most important and dangerous man of the mob, his boss.

“What the fuck?” A long silence stayed in the air while Tom processed the news. Awkwardness had filled the entire room as they all awaited Tom’s response.

“For fucks sake, you need at least 3 guards posted outside. NOW!” He screamed as his anger continued to rise as read the note.

“Yes, Sir.” William said promptly.

“God forbid anything else happen tonight, but my wife and kids are the first ones to be escorted to safe house. Understood?” Tom explained as he only was only thinking about his family in that moment.

“Yes, Sir.” William said and quickly ran out before he could get the brunt of Tom’s upcoming outburst. Right on cue, Tom threw a glass ashtray at the wall, it shattering into shards.

“Calm down mate, what did the note even say.” Harrison asked with a worrisome look on his face. Tom showed Harrison the joy and his smile faded immediately. Tom for the first time, in a while, felt fear because he knew he had everything to lose.

Not wanting to deal with the life long headache that is his life. He looked for solace in, you, his wife as he spotted her over by the fireplace and made his way over to you.

“Have told you look stunning tonight?” He said instantly falling in love with you over again.

“Several times actually,” you said.

“Well I can’t help what you do to me, gorgeous.” He said placing a kiss to your temple.

“Hey, have you had the talk with him yet?” You said pointing a finger at your son getting very intimate with some girl.

The girl was Charlotte Owens. Parker and her had been together for almost a year, but you and Tom hadn’t met her formally yet. Your son was very tight-lipped the it came to his private life. She was tall, fair and had platinum blonde hair along with piercing blue eyes. Rosie didn’t seem to like her very much, constantly annoyed by her popularity status and reputation, used to be known for being with a new guy every couple weeks and don’t put it past Rosie to not give her the benefit of the doubt.

“No, remember we’re going to do it tonight. Is something wrong?” He said with concern, worried why you would forget something so important.

“No, not that talk, silly, “The talk”,” you responded. His lips formed an “o” shaped as he realized he would have to teach his son about how to be safe during sex.

“Oh, no. I’ve been avoiding it for as long as possible.”

“Why baby, you’re so good at it. You could give him a few a pointers.” You said, winking at him.

“Wow, love, you surprise me everyday. Speaking of beautiful girls, where’s Rosie. I’ve haven’t seen her all night,” Tom quickly trying to change the subject as they were at a party.

“I saw her a few minutes ago,” you said as a puzzled look grew on her face.

“Come on, let’s go find her and maybe you and I can sneak off for awhile.” He said cheekily.

“Tommy,” you whispered but eventually agreed. Slowly making your way out of the main ballroom to the secret garden next to his office.

Walking very slyly, you both made your way to secret spot near Tom’s office. Where ivy had grown throughout the brick and purple and yellow tulips lined the fence along with giant trees. There was a little wishing fountain that Tom had installed when you moved in, this was their secret spot. One where they could forget about all the violence and responsibility that tainted their lives.

Their intimate moment was ruined when Rosie walked by with some random guy named Connor, not the person she’d hope to bring there. All throughout the night Rosie seemed to be jealous of the attention her crush was getting at the party as he didn’t pay attention to her. Thus, she went find a distraction of her own.

“Oh hey, shh, look two people getting it on over there,” he whispered to her as she dragged him outside.

“Please don’t be my brother.” She murmured but felt like she wanted to throw up when she saw who it was.

“Mom, dad?” Rosie screamed.

“Oh shit, we’ve been busted,” Tom muttered against your neck.

“Hey honey,” You said while Rosie was completely mortified. Rosie’s potential hookup stood there mouth wide open.

“That’s your mum, god, she’s a babe.” Connor said.

“Connor, not helping.” Rosie exclaimed sternly as she pinched his side.

Tom spoke up, “Why don’t you guys go back and enjoy the rest of the party.”

Rosie just nodded and left as fast as humanly possible. She never wants to be that embarrassed again.

“Oh my god, we were gonna get it later.” You said.

“I know, we really screwed up this time. But have you had “the talk” with her yet,” Tom asked.

“Nope, we should both really get on that. What would I’ve happened if they hadn’t caught us?” You asked jokingly.

“I don’t want to think about that Y/N! She’s our daughter.” Tom exclaimed.

“Neither do I.”

“Enough of this, where were we?” Tom interjected immediately changing the subject.

“Well you lips were on my neck and you hand was on my waist, but I think the moment has passed and we should get back to the party,” you said rather seductively.

“Fine, I know you’re right. But fuck, I just want to make out with my wife,” Tom muttered frustratingly.

“Well you can later... in bed.” Winking as you chuckled.

“Man, that kid was right, you are a babe.”he said as he slapped your ass as you walked in front of him chuckling.

“Is it time for cake?” Harrison asks as he came up to Tom and you.

“I think it is.” Tom said and you nodded. Walking towards Rosie, who was desperately trying to erase her self from existence because of the embarrassment she’d experienced a minute ago.

“Hi, honey. Can you please go find your brother? We are going to cut the cake.” You said trying not to accidentally bring up the elephant in the room.

“Alright, fine,” Rosie muttered still a little peeved finding you and Tom like that. Rosie searched high and low for Parker.

Needing some assistance she asked Henry. “Hey, have you seen my brother?”

“Last I saw he was taking Charlotte to the green house” Henry responded.

“Alright, come on, let’s go find them” Rosie said rolling her eyes. Her hand slipped into Henry’s as she led the way. Making their way through the vast yet gorgeous yard. Rosie and Henry found Parker and Charlottes lips entangled together and bodies in a compromising position in the green house

“For fucks sake, how many people am I going to find sucking face at this party.” Rosie yelled, startling Charlotte and Parker.

“What the fuck do you want, Rosie? Can’t you see I’m busy.” Parker quipped annoyingly.

“Mom and dad want to cut the cake” Rosie responded.

“Ugh fine. Give us 10 mins” knowing he will be finished in that time.

“No, you can fuck your bimbo of a girlfriend later.” Rosie said, receiving a grimace from Charlotte.

“Don’t you fucking talk about her like that! Fuck off!” Parker yelled as Henry and Rosie left. Both of the kids had inherited Tom’s angry side.

“Well, you can explain to mom and dad you were late because you were balls deep in in your whore,” Rosie said walking away.

The moments leading up to the end of Parker’s innocence were fleeting. In more ways than one. He wasn’t a virgin even before that evening but, Parker could imagine the task he was supposed to accomplish. The 3 tier chocolate raspberry ganache cake had been cut and distributed to the guests. Happy birthday had been sung to Rosie and Parker. Parker tried to go off with Charlotte again, but Harrison stopped him and brought him to the Tom’s office.

“They’re in there,” Harrison whispered.

“Who?” Parker asked Harrison who was like his uncle.

“Just go,” Parker opened the door to see his mother and his dad sat behind the desk. The door shut behind him.

“Mom? Dad? What’s going on here?” Parker hesitated.

“Son, sit down,” Tom said, knowing this wasn’t going to be easy.

“We have to talk to you.” You interjected.

“Parker, as part of this family, there are certain responsibilities you have to take. It is a tradition in our family that at the age of 16, the sons are brought to light about the dealings of our family and what is expected of you,” Tom said as Parker grew wary. Not really understanding what his parents were trying to convey.

Throughout his entire life, he had his suspicions about his family. Wondering why men followed them everywhere, even on trips to the store for eggs. Why his parents went to work but have never seen their office, only heard it referred to as “the warehouse.” Why everything was always so damm secretive. Scared if he accidentally let some enormous family secret slip with his big mouth there would be repercussions. Never not scared of the harm that could come to his family.

“Your father, is the leader of a very powerful mob. I am part of it too, not just as wife but as his partner. There will be day when he will longer be in position of boss and you will take over,” you asserted playing off of Tom’s words.

“Our family is not only the owners of one of the world’s richest exporting company, we also do business with casinos and own multiple hotel chains. Sometimes our work brings us above the law, but the connections we have are what keep us alive.” Tom explained trying to preserve his son’s innocence.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Parker stuttered.

“Because it is time. Time for you to step up and take your place in this family. You’ve had 16 years of juvenile fun and now this is what has to be done.” Tom concluded.

“What if I don’t want this life. You don’t think I don’t know what happens behind closed doors here. All the times dad has come home with a black eye or blood on his knuckles. Why fuck isn’t Rosie here? She is the same age as me, WE ARE TWINS! Why am I the only one who has to do this. I don’t want to kill for sport like you and mom!” Parker screamed. He couldn’t handle this anymore. There was too much information he had to process.

“Do not raise your voice at your mother! Tom screamed.

“Dad, I had dreams and hopes. I wanted to go to college and travel. Find a nice girl and marry her. Experience the kind of love you and mom have. What you are asking me to do, flushes all that away. You are asking me to give up on my life.

So that’s it, I don’t have a choice,” Parker begged.

“Baby, you have a choice. Nothing is set in stone,” you said rubbing his arm.

“Y/N, you damm well know what will happen if he turns this down,” Tom yelled.

“Maybe this life works for you two, but I don’t want this kind of life. My answer is no. Find someone else.”

“Parker, you know I can’t do that. Take a couple days and think about it” Tom answered trying to stay calm.

“NO DAD! My answer is final, I’m not going to be your apprentice to carry on this heinous family legacy!” Parker exploded. It was too much.

“If you aren’t willing to do what is asked of you, then you can forget about being in this family!” Tom screamed. He did exactly what he said he wouldn’t, he gave his son an ultimatum. Parker couldn’t handle it anymore and left. Needing to forget about the fact he no longer had a say. He was stuck.

It was just Tom and you sitting in the study. They couldn’t understand where the conversation had gone. All their hopes for tonight went out the window along with potted plant Tom threw when Parker stormed out.

“Tom, you can’t force him. You can’t do what your father did to you to him.” You tried to say in a loving tone but it came out as stern.

“IM NOT, Y/N!!!” Tom screamed. He had fucked up. The words spoken tonight have rewritten his relationship with his son.

“Alright.” You whispered trying to calm your fuming husband down.

“I’m sorry I raised my voice, baby.” Tom’s tone immediately changed once he heard the softness of your voice. You just nodded in response

“Tommy?” You asked hoping Tom was now ok.

“Yes, love” Tom said.

“He’ll come around. I can promise you that.”

“I know, darling. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what?” a look of confusion grew on your face.

He handed you a paper, the same one that was found on Daniel’s body, saying “Eclipsing of the Hollands. Let the show begin. Better watch your back.”

It was threat. A play to eventually be made on his life or the life of his family and you all had no idea who was behind it.

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas Series Masterlist

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #Dad!Mob!Tom Holland #Mob!Tom #mobster #Mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x reader

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