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funkyhanji · 3 years

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Daddy's Perfect Cock-Slut [English | BNHA]

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia (@Horikoshi Kohei) Character(s): Todoroki Enji | Endeavor, Todoroki Shouto Pairing(s): EnjiSho Rating: E Word count: 3528 CWs: Shota, Underage, Extremely Dubious Consent, Father/Son Incest, Grooming, Mind Manipulation, Childhood Trauma, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Begging, Rough Sex, Large Cock, Cock Worship, Cock Cages, Cock-Slut Shouto, Creampie, Implied/Referenced Father/Daughter Incest, Dissociation, Dirty Talk, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Summary: - That green-haired runt [...] knew nothing about Shouto. Or about Enji. Or about their relationship and how it functioned. -

Enji's annoyed. That green-haired runt reminded him too much of All Might, with his self-righteous attitude and acting like it's his duty to go sticking his nose into someone else's business, unwanted and spewing corny bullshit. Did that kid even know who he was talking to in that way?

His Shouto doesn't need help from a kid who can't even properly control his quirk. He knew nothing about Shouto. Or about Enji. Or about their relationship and how it functioned.

[*]

It took two days for Enji to notice Shouto's catatonic state and lifeless stare. He'd been busy dealing with the paperwork necessary to hospitalize his wife after her psychotic breakdown and her attack on their youngest child. Also the press — keeping the nosy fuckers away from his family problems was of utmost importance. Good thing he showered his PR staff and lawyers in money.

It was a comment from Fuyumi which had clued Enji in on the boy's ghost-like presence around the house.

Shouto, excused from school for a couple of weeks after the incident, would be seen wandering the halls in a daze; he'd often gravitate to the kitchen or his mother's bedroom, and stay there for indefinite amounts of time. He only moved when someone nudged him out of the rooms.

His son, he also came to notice quickly, was very responsive to commands in that state. As if his brain was more than happy to be given directions or orders to follow.

Any sort of command.

«Stop right there, Shouto,» Enji ordered one day, seeing the boy walking down the corridor in front of his open studio door. Shouto did as told, making Enji hum, curiosity piqued. «Come in Shouto, and close the door.»

His son obeyed, standing just past the threshold, his face devoid of any real expression and a haunted look in his eyes. It was disconcerting, Enji had to admit, but the cooperativeness was pleasing after all the reluctance to follow directives Shouto had shown since they'd begun his training.

«Come to me, boy,» he said, waving him over. «And speak, I'm tired of you playing mute.»

Shouto slowly crossed the distance, halting beside the chair Enji was sitting in. «Father.» His voice was scratchy from disuse and a bit dull, but it was still an improvement over the contempt it held before.

Something could be bettered though.

«Call me 'Daddy', boy,» he ordered.

«Yes, Daddy.»

The word sent a shiver down Enji's spine. Something wicked and dark—a desire to claim what was his on the most base level — awakening inside him for the first time in months, maybe years. Rei wasn't here to stop him, this time; she wasn't here to distract him with her own body, or to send Fuyumi his way in her stead.

Shouto was all his for the taking, now.

«Your Mommy was taken away because of you, Shouto. And since you're the reason she's not here anymore, it'll be your job to do everything Mommy did for Daddy. Do you understand, Shouto?»

«Yes, Daddy. I'll do everything Mommy did for Daddy, because it's my fault she was taken away.»

The smirk slashing through his face was nothing but sinister.

«Good boy.»

They were in Rei's bedroom, alone and with the door locked. It wasn't necessary, frankly: his and his wife's rooms were on a different side of the house from his kids', and none of them were about to come looking for him, not after dinner anyway.

Enji had come out of the bathhouse to find Shouto once again in his mother's room, gaze lost like a kicked puppy.

Defenseless. Adrift.

And Enji was there, because it was easy to take advantage of a traumatized child when you use the excuse of providing him with an anchor, a grounding touch.

He spread out Rei's futon on the tatami mats — a half-empty bottle of lube rolled out of it as well —, sat down with his legs loosely crossed in front of him and reached out a hand toward Shouto. His other hand undoing the knot of the towel at his hips.

«Here, Shouto, come sit in my lap,» Enji ordered.

«Yes, Daddy.» Shouto plopped down in the circle his legs made, back straight and blinking slow, breath even.

He didn't protest when Enji took his hand in a gentle hold, brushing a large thumb over the white knuckles; he didn't protest when Enji cradled the bandaged side of his face in his other hand. He didn't try to back away, as Enji coaxed his jaws open and delved two thick fingers inside, the rough pads gliding over a soft tongue and gums. Back and forth, deeper at each passage and full of intent.

A flush began to creep onto Shouto's cheeks; his breath humid as it puffed over the back of Enji's hand, a spark flickering to light in his uncovered eye.

He brought his son's hand toward his groin, pleased to see him follow the movement, gaze focusing on the swelling cock nestled in dark crimson curls. A shiver coursed through Shouto's thin frame as his fingers made contact, a sigh escaping parted pale-pink lips.

«Daddy...» Shouto whispered, muffled by Enji's digits still in his mouth.

«Go on Shouto,» Enji said, letting his hand fall from the boy's face, setting it at his slim waist. «You remember what to do, right?»

Shouto nodded, too lost in the moment to respond verbally, but it was fine.

Enji picked up the lube, squirting some in the boy's palm. Cold fingers wrapped around his length — barely long enough to circle the girth of it even when limp — and stroked, the touch tentative, trembling but growing surer at each pass. The push and pull of the foreskin as it glided over the head, the stiffening of the cock under his fingertips seemed to entice Shouto. His pupil dilated the harder Enji got, the blush on his face darkening at each of Enji's pleased hums.

«Good, Shouto,» Enji praised. He groaned when his son's other hand joined in the stroking, the dual sensation of hot and cold enclosing his cock feeling nice on his burning skin. «Put more strength into it, boy.»

«Yes… Daddy,» Shouto whispered, sounding winded as his whole body shifted with his movements. Sweat started beading at his hairline from the extersion and the heat radiating off of Enji.

«Remember, Shouto, this is your duty now. Taking care of my needs, of my cock, is your responsibility.»

«… Because it's my... fault Mommy's not… here anymore...»

«That's right.» Enji smirked, dripping corruption and lust unbecoming of a hero. «Get your mouth down there, c'mon. Like I told you.»

Once the bandages came off his face and Shouto was cleared by the doctor to go back to school, the vacancy in his stare finally began to recede day by day. He no longer wandered around the house like a ghost and he talked more often, as stilted and curt as his sentences were.

A positive thing, according to the majority of people Enji spoke to — a phrase which never failed to make him raise an eyebrow. He could understand such naivety from Fuyumi, but from adults who should know better than to sweep PTSD and trauma under the rug? Bullshit. They were just trying to appease him, Endeavor, the #2 Hero.

They were lucky that worked perfectly for Enji.

He could do without the new-found sparks of defiance in Shouto's eyes whenever they crossed paths or trained in the dojo, sure, but in was worth it when all the fight bled out of his tiny frame at the first glimpse of Enji's cock. He knew playing his hand while the boy was in a malleable state would be beneficial in drilling some key concepts in his brain.

«That was weak, Shouto! Fuyumi could have punched harder than that!» Enji reprimanded, eyes narrowed in Shouto's direction at his poor attitude.

He received a glare from the other side of the dojo, Shouto then kicking the dummy in the dick with an angry yell. Enji almost rolled his eyes at the display, but a sudden groan caught his attention.

«Ah— nnh…!»

Shouto was squirming where he stood, face pinched in discomfort and the heel of one hand carefully rubbing at his groin. Ah, Enji thought, it's the cage isn't it. Of course it was — it'd been only a week since Enji had put it on Shouto; he wasn't used to it yet.

«Stop touching it, Shouto,» Enji said. «It won't help—»

«Shut up! Take it off of me!»

Enji stood up, growling low and stalking toward his son. He gripped a fistful of bi-colored hair and shoved Shouto's face into his crotch none too gently, grinding him against his clothed, soft cock. Any protest died quickly. A breathy moan warming Enji's bulge, which twitched in interest as Shouto nudged his nose further into the crease between his thigh and pelvis.

«I told you not to touch the cage, Shouto,» Enji said, looking down at the boy.

«Mmkay,» Shouto muttered into the fabric of his sweatpants; his tiny arms embracing Enji's waist. «Daddy… wanna…»

«What do you want?»

«Daddy's… Da— haa!-» Enji rubbed a knee over Shouto's trapped little dick- «cock! Nnnh— Daddy's cock! P-Please...»

Enji chuckled. «And what d'you wanna do with it, mh, Shouto?»

Shouto looked up at him, flushed face and eyes swimming with desire to please. Enji could imagine the boy's mind quickly being overtaken by thoughts of his cock; touching it, stroking it, feeling its weight and warmth on his tongue — the way he'd been primed to in the weeks after the incident.

«S-service you— ah! — Daddy… please!»

«Since you're being so polite-» Enji patted his head, then undid the pants' drawstring and pulled them down enough for his cock to bounce free- «go ahead.»

Shouto's eyes light up, a needy whine falling from pink lips. «Thank you Daddy!»

He delved right in, mouth parting to suckle on the head, tongue sneaking under the foreskin and swirling around it like an ice-cream cone. Popping off the tip, Shouto moved down the hard length, kissing and licking every pulsing vein all the way to the base; he coated Enji's cock in saliva to ease the stroking of his small hands while he nuzzled up to the sac under it.

«Suck on those, boy,» Enji grunted, a large hand on the nape of Shouto's head. «That's where you came from.»

Shouto's tongue lapped at his heavy balls with careful brushes, lips puckering over the sensitive skin, sucking gently. Over and over, he kissed Enji's sac with something akin to reverence in both his touches and his eyes. His breath was humid and hitching as he worshiped Enji like the all-consuming being he was.

A low rumble reverberated in Enji's chest, his palm caressing red-and-white hair in silent appreciation. «Yeah… like that, Shouto. You like Daddy's cock, don't you?»

Shouto moaned, long and trembling with need. «Ah! I… I-I— yes! Like-» his lips attached to Enji's cock-head once again, drinking up the pre-cum oozing from it and mewling- «mngh— l-love it Daddy!» He rutted against Enji's leg, no doubt trying to find relief for his tiny dick trapped in that cage.

«Good boy. Now back to sucking.»

Enji unceremoniously pushed Shouto's parted mouth down on his twitching cock, fucking into it fast but controlled, thrusts shallow as his son let himself be used. Flushed cheeks hollowing and puffing out in time with his movements, and small hands cupping his balls, it didn't take long for Enji to feel himself starting to cum.

«Here it comes, Shouto,» he groaned, fingers dipping into the boy's nape to keep him still. «My seed— shit! Ngh!— don't spill any!»

Shouto's muffled assent sent jolts of pleasure up his cock, pushing him over the edge until he was dumping a load of scorching cum down the awaiting throat. Shouto drank and drank, lips tightening around his length to coax out every drop.

The sight alone — of Shouto's still-developing Adam's Apple bob — arousing him enough he could go for a second round immediately. «Like mother, like son: she loved to guzzle it down too.»

«Quit your squirming, dammit!» Enji growled, a rough palm on his son's hip.

«Nooo…! Back— put it back Daddy! Too empty...» Shouto cried.

Enji ignored the whining and the wriggling hips, too busy trying to reach for the lube one-handed, to appreciate the desperation Shouto was showing. At last managing to pop the bottle open, Enji poured the lube over the boy's slightly puffy hole — a huff of laughter escaping him at the squeak it earned him — and sank a finger inside.

Shouto's body shivered, no longer fighting. «Daddy...»

«Yeah,» Enji said. His digit moving back and forth, taking stock of how prepped his son's ass was after pulling out the plug which had been stretching him. «This is better, mh? A minute without something filling you up is unbearable, isn't it.»

The only answer he got was a whorish moan and Shouto pushing back into his hand.

Enji had introduced butt plugs around three months into his molding of Shouto into his personal, perfect cock-slut. He'd been dreaming about fucking his son well before Rei had snapped and gotten herself locked away in a hospital, and after teaching Shouto how to pleasure him with his mouth, Enji had decided it was time he started training that cute, round ass to take his cock. It'd been a couple of painstakingly long years. Years filled of better and better blowjobs, thigh-fucking — and occasional Fuyumi-fucking, because sometimes he missed the familiar feeling of a cold and wet pussy soaking up his boiling-hot cum —, and the slow-increasing girth of butt plugs up Shouto's hole.

The wait was finally over.

Enji was already rock-hard at the prospect of sinking balls-deep in Shouto.

His son seemed eager as well; spine curving sharply upward, hands gripping the futon under his shaking body in a vice. «Hhhnggh…!! O-oh! Da-Daddy! More— aah!— moreee!»

Enji smirked, a second finger pushing alongside the first to scissor and loosen Shouto; a third was quick to follow, and a fourth, the blushing rim stretched deliciously around his fingers, shiny with lube and fluttering. Enji shifted his hand back a little, calloused pads prodding at his son's prostate, licking his lips at Shouto's shocked yell. He kept up the touch until Shouto's walls were quaking and he was orgasming with his ass, his little caged dick limp but twitching uselessly over the sheet.

«Look at that, Shouto, you mastered the art of cumming like a woman,» Enji praised, fingers popping out of the boy with a squelch.

Shouto was out of it, drowning in post-coital bliss. «… Like a wo… man… did good?... Daddy…?»

«Yes, you did good. So good, you deserve my cock.»

Shouto didn't have time to say anything, Enji lubing himself up quickly and thrusting inside the small body in the next minute. Both moaned, when he bottomed out, then he pulled the boy up to sit on his thighs. Hands at a slim waist — leaving bruises on the milky-white skin —, Enji began ramming Shouto onto his cock at a brutal pace, the slapping of skin on skin loud and obscene, a nice background to the gritty grunts and the breathless mewls they made.

«How's Daddy's cock, mh, Shouto?»

«Mmngh! Aaah! Oh— l-l-loooove it…! Daddy!! Oh! Hhhgaah— yes! Cock!! Co— AH!»

Shouto was a mess of snot and tears and drool, with barely enough functioning brain cells to form words while he was mercilessly bounced on Enji's cock. His guts were speared continuously, his stomach visibly bulging every time Enji thrusted into him; his prostate was brushed against over and over to the point of pain, but Shouto kept moaning and sobbing in pleasure like Enji had molded him to—a slut for anything Daddy's cock gave him.

And Enji made sure to tell him.

«What a... whore! Happy to be a— ngh— rag-doll in my grasp... just to get my— shit!— cock. Ready to crawl— haa!— on your knees and choke on it! You're a bitch in heat, Shouto— my bitch. My cock-slut!»

«Yours, yes! Yesyes! Slut— AH! DADDY! AH! AH!»

Shouto orgasmed again, body like jello in Enji's hands as he shook and shuddered and pissed all over the futon. He kept up his onslaught anyway, fucking up into Shouto through his walls' clenching down on him until he was cumming violently inside, still thrusting while he rode it out, uncaring of the seed spilling down his cock and adding to the nasty mess.

«Thank… you… Daddy...»

«Mmh, good boy, Shouto.»

[*]

He sees his son walk towards him, on his way to compete in his first match. «Shouto,» he calls, «I'm expecting to see you use your fire today.» Shouto scowls, seeming determined to ignore him and that won't do for Enji. He steps in front of his son, blocking the passage with his large frame; this time it's him who ignores Shouto's gritted «Get out of my way». He bends at the waist until their faces are as close as can be with Enji's quirk active. «I put up with this defiance at home,» he says. «but here and now? It's going to ruin your performance and I won't have that.» «Fuck o—» Shouto starts, only for the words to die out as soon as he sees Enji unzip the fly of his hero suit and pull out his limp cock. He smirks. The change in demeanor is instantaneous: Shouto's pupils swell, black overtaking gray and blue irises; his jaws grow slack and his lips part; a rosy tint blossoms on his cheeks. Tense shoulders sag. In the next second, Shouto's on his knees in front of him. «Daddy...» he whines. «Aah, that's better,» Enji says. He reaches out, weaves his large hand in bi-colored hair. A low moan leaves his son's throat. He can practically see the saliva gathering on the boy's tongue in anticipation, can see him squirm on the floor as the seconds pass by. Shouto moves closer, nosing at the crimson pubes at the base of Enji's cock but not touching the half-hard shaft. He wasn't given permission to yet. «Need your Daddy's cock to calm down, mh?» Enji teases. «Like a baby with his pacifier-» with his free hand, he strokes himself, quickly growing fully hard at the sight of Shouto panting and sniffing at his crotch like a dog- «wanna be a good boy for Daddy?» Shouto nods wordlessly, slowly humping his boot and Enji can vaguely feel the chastity cage rub on him through Shouto's clothes. «Yes! Yes, please Daddy...! Please, your cock— oooh I want it! Daddy, please... pleasepleaseDa— mgahghn!» Enji grabs a fistful of white-n-red hair and pulls on it, shoving his cock past slack jaws without hesitation. «Suck Shouto,» he orders. Shouto moans around him. His hands grope Enji's thighs, blunt nails digging into the muscle as an anchor while he starts bobbing his head over the massive length. His tongue swirls around the shaft in just the right way to make Enji groan; Shouto's throat constricts as he's swallowed past his son's gag reflex, the vibrations from the mewls travel all the way up Enji's spine. His son's mouth is perfect. «Yeah, that's more— nngh— like it! Fuck, Shouto— you love my... cock mh? That's a good whore—» Wet and tight around him — it almost reminds him of Rei's and Fuyumi's pussies. «Cool yourself down a bit boy,» he grunts. When his son does as told, Enji moans at the feeling and fucks himself deeper, harder past Shouto's lips—they're stretched and puffy and red, with drool oozing down his chin. Shouto chokes on his cock yet keeps working it like the greedy slut he is. He ignores the tears running down his flushed cheeks and the snot mixing with his spit and Enji's pre-cum. His face looks dazed and Enji knows Shouto's brain is mush right now: the only words blaring in there are "COCK" and "DADDY" and "DADDY'S CUM". Exactly the way Enji wants him. It's what Enji's taught him ever since Rei had disappeared from the house, eight years ago-and his youngest cock-sleeve has grown up to be exceptionally great at giving head. The most talented at it since his mother. «Take Daddy's spunk, you slutty boy!» Enji says through gritted teeth as he feels himself getting close. He rips Shouto's mouth off him, gripping his cock and stroking himself quick and harsh until his balls draw up and he's throbbing in his own fist. «Open up and say— fuck!— thank you!» Shouto whines, swollen lips parted and tongue lolling out, waiting to be fed. It's enough to push Enji off the edge. With one last stroke, he's cumming, the thick ropes of seed landing on his son's eager tongue as well as on the bridge of his nose and his left cheek. He milks his orgasm to the last drop, staring down at Shouto with a dark glint in his eyes as the boy slurps up all the cum sizzling on his face. «Thank you Daddy...» Behind him, Present Mic's voice calls for Shouto's name.

#todocest #enjishouto #todoroki enji | endeavor #todoroki shouto #bnha #rarepair #funkys fics #guess who randomly decided to change theme of this blog lol #and to post the fics I've written since The PurgeTM #maybe #I honestly forgot how annoying it is to format here from AO3

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ecoamerica · 22 days

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anjanettexcordonia · 3 years

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Paradise Lost

**Trigger Warnings**

DARK DARK DARK

-NSFW/Mental Health/Violence/Rape Minimal fluff if any at all tbh.

***If you are sensitive to any of these please do not read.

Pairing: None

Word Count: 2,583 (I struggled with this chapter. Not sure why.)

**READ WITH CAUTION**

Excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings.

This will be a six part series. I do not have a timeline for when I will post. (I’m a mom & work full time)

Disclaimer: Riley Brooks & Liam Rhys belong to Pixelberry. All other characters in this chapter are mine.

Thanks to @texaskitten30 for beta reading this chapter for me.

Tags:

If you would like to be tagged or removed from taglist please let me know.

@gkittylove99 @kingliam2019 @yourmajesty09 @cordonia-gothqueen @mom2000aggie @texaskitten30 @hopefulmoonobject

Katherine Riley Brooks Vanderbilt lived a life others would envy. Her family had been written about in American history for decades. She attended the best schools money could buy. Her family frequently vacationed all over the world. To the world Riley was an heiress that lived a life most would or could only dream of. But not all was as it seemed. The tabloids painted her family in a light that no one would even imagine the horrors that really took place behind the eight foot walls that hid their sprawling estates. Riley didn’t have an easy life. Money didn’t cushion the multiple gut wrenching blows she suffered from her tyrant father. Trust funds didn’t fill the hole left by her absent alcoholic mother. Sisterly bonds was a fantasy.

16 year old Riley

“Let’s go Mia. We have to get to the airport.” Riley was standing in her younger sister's dorm room waiting for her to pack her suitcases for their holiday trip with the rest of the Vanderbilt family. “I am. I am so excited to see Dad. I haven’t seen him in so long. Are you excited Kat?” “Um yea whatever Mia.” The sisters headed to the car waiting to take them to the private jet of one of their father's business partners. They arrived at the tarmac and realized they were no longer in the custody of their father's security detail. Riley knew this wasn’t going to be a run of the mill vacation.

It had been two years since the death of her mother. Two years of boarding school away from the horror of her father. Riley dreaded the holiday but was excited to see her younger brothers.

The jet finally touched down in Switzerland. Riley looked at her younger sister. Amelia still has the youthful twinkle in her eye as she looked out the cabin windows at the sparkling snow beneath them. Riley had lost the innocent twinkle. Maybe she never had it. She had been parentless as long as she could remember. Her father didn’t greet the sisters at the private airport. Nor did he greet them when they arrived at the estate they would be staying at. Instead a short plump woman with dark auburn hair and hazel met them at the estate.

“Katherine and Amelia, I presume?” The girls nodded their heads. “Very well, follow me and I’ll show you to your wing as per Sir Vanderbilts request.” They followed the woman, who never introduced herself, to their rooms. Opulence was something they were used to and it didn’t faze them at all. “Your father will be joining you Katherine in your room shortly to discuss a few matters at hand.”

“Katherine, it's nice to see you. And you look lovely in that dress my dear.” Riley’s father hissed as she walked into the sitting room of her suite. “Father” she nodded avoiding eye contact. He kept his eyes locked on her and her long, shimmering emerald dress. Her father always insisted they dress their best in his presence no matter the occasion. “Have a seat. We have much to discuss.” Riley seated herself across from at the small table. “I would like for you to join me on my hunt this weekend. It’s time I teach you all to be true Vanderbilts and how we maintain our power among the others in our world. Money does not equal power.”

“Power is forcefully taken, yes I know, Father.” Riley rolled her eyes. Suddenly Riley felt a force knock her out of her chair. She hit the marble floors beneath with her a force that knocked the wind out of her. “It will do you well to remember your place Katherine Riley Vanderbilt otherwise you will see what happens when someone disobeys me.” Riley felt the warm, copper taste of blood in her mouth. “I would say ask your mother,” a sinister smile emerging on his face, “but it seems you can not.” Riley stood and dabbed a napkin against the corner of her mouth, she smoothed her dress and took her place in front of her father. “There will be other friends in attendance as well on our hunt tomorrow. As I am sure you are aware, you will be in charge of keeping the other children on their best behavior.”

“Father, may I ask, what will be hunting tomorrow?”

“Who, Katherine, who?” Edward stood from the table, “I have spoken with the others. Amelia seems especially eager. Tomorrow will be momentous. Tomorrow will show me who will be the successor to Vanderbilt Enterprises.”

Riley didn’t sleep a wink that night. She had no idea her younger brothers, Neal and Eddie were there. She hadn’t seen them yet. It had been six months since she had seen them last.

The next morning, Riley woke and dressed in her riding gear and went down for breakfast. When she made it to the kitchen, she spotted her siblings and her father all having breakfast. Riley noted how unusual this was. “Riley!” Cornelius screamed and jumped from the table to hug her. “Hey Neal! How are you? You have grown so much since I saw you! How has school been?

“ENOUGH” Edward bellowed at the children. “Sit down both of you.” A flash of fear passed though Cornelius’s eyes and he went back to his seat. They finished their breakfast without so much as another word nor a glance at each other. “You’ve never taken us on a hunt before Father, what game may I ask will we be hunting today?” Amelia asked. “Today will be a turning point. It’s not about the game we hunt per say it’s about the power you hold over your prey. In this world only the strong prevail. Kill or be killed. Succeed or fail.” Edward said matter of factly. “You will do exactly as I say without showing weakness, now you all may follow me.”

The children all followed their father to the stables on the grounds. They each mounted their horses and trotted behind their father until they reached a large,log hunting cabin deep in the woods. The tree canopy was so thick sunlight barely reached them. Riley felt a cold shiver down her spine as they made their way into the cabin. It was nearly lunch, but the smell of cigars and scotch...and something else but Riley couldn’t place the odd smell, made her stomach turn.

“Eddie” a large overweight man clapped their father on the back. “I see you brought an audience,” the strange man smirked.

“It’s time to toughen them up. Show them how to be true Vanderbilts eh Brother?” Edward laughed, “meet your Uncle Astor Cornelius Vanderbilt Duke of Wellington kiddies. I think the youngest one here ought to call you Pop?” he winked. “You’re whore of mother sure did enjoy making you, boy.” Astor looked down at a 12 year old Cornelius. Eddie smirked, catching Riley’s eyes filled with tears threatening to break free. He fully intended to break her. If she were to inherit his fortune she would do it on her knees.

She looked more like her mother everyday. He hated her for it. He hated her mother. He hated himself. All he wanted was for her to love him. She could never love a man like him. So he forced her. He forced her until he took her life. He became the monster he was meant to be. And if he couldn’t make her like him he would do it to her daughter. His daughter. With her eyes.

“You will all do as I say, without defiance or face the consequences.” Edward warned. “Amelia, Edward you’re with me. The others are with Astor. Let’s go.” Each group went through a separate door that led to a flight of stairs descending downwards to a large basement. The basement looked similar to a hospital or a morgue. Medical utensils were placed by a row of three hospital gurneys. Large fluorescent lights made the room bright. Too bright. The first the sisters noticed when they entered the room was the row of three cages along the wall. Three naked women were gagged and bound in each cage. Riley looked at her sister. Amelia didn’t have fear in her eyes. She had excitement. Riley felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. “Have a seat,” Edward gestured towards some chairs near the cages,” you will observe and listen.” Edward pulled a set of keys from his jacket pocket and unlocked each cage door. He stripped his clothes bare and placed them in a laundry bag. The girls, surprised at their father's nakedness, averted their eyes unsure what to do. “Power is taken, not given. We take what we want and we end those that oppose us. We end those that would deny us what we seek, isn’t that right my daughters?” Edward asked as he pulled the first woman from her cage. She was a petite brunette woman that Riley didn’t recognize. “This woman disobeyed my direct orders so she will face my punishment.” He said firmly. He tied the woman to the gurney in the center of the room. Her wrists were tied tightly above her head and her ankles were tied to each corner of the bed. She was blindfolded and gagged. “Father, what are you doing?” Riley asked, horrified by what was happening in front of her. “I said not to speak, do you defy by direct command?” He glared at Riley. “Come here girl” he said between gritted teeth, “You will help me, you will get first hand experience.” Riley felt the anger boil in her veins. “What did she do to deserve such treatment?” She snarled. “Do as I say or you can replace this bitch on the table. Your sister there is practically giddy, but you hold resilience, that will end today. She will be your victim or you’ll be mine.” Edward spoke barely above a whisper. Evil poured through every orpheus of his body.

Riley knew it was her or him and she was too weak to do anything. There was no returning back. The innocence Riley had left was going to be extinguished. She would never be the same. She grabbed the scalpel from her father’s outstretched hand. Her hand shook uncontrollably as she gripped the scalpel in her sweating palm She closed her eyes. Turn it off Riley. You can’t feel or you won’t survive. Turn it off… She opened her eyes and looked at her father. Her eyes reflected his. She handed the scalpel back to him. “I do not need this.” She paced the instrument back on the sterilized tray. She climbed on to the gurney. She pulled the gag out of the woman’s mouth. “I want to hear you scream.” She said. Riley pulled the blindfold from the girl’s eyes. “I want you to look at me while your life drains from your body. From your eyes. From my life.” “No please stop.” The girl cried. Riley’s father stood astounded by her words. He recognized those words. But from where? “All I wanted was for you to love me, but no it was too much to ask.” Riley said. She slapped the girl across the face. She grabbed the girl with both hands on each side of her face and kissed her deeply. She pulled back and punched her in the jaw.

Slap. Punch. Hit.

The girl screamed in anguish. Blood covered her face and splattered all over Riley. Edward and Amelia moved closer and watched her awe as she beat the woman. Riley grabbed the scalpel and sliced the woman's breast as the woman screamed. You deserve to die. You disobeyed me. You fucked your way into my life. You fucked your way into my fortune. Riley screamed.

“Riley stop.” Edward yelled. Riley didn’t stop but looked back at her father. “Do you remember father? What you did to Mother? We’re not that much different after all.” Riley slit the woman's throat and watched the blood pour from her carotid artery. She stood up. Edward glared at his daughter. “How dare you threaten me? I grabbed Riley and threw her into the cage the woman Riley had murdered was previously. He locked the cage door. “You will watch. He pulled the other women out of their confines and strapped them to the other two gurneys. Come here Amelia, it's your turn. I hope you do not disappoint me.” “Yes, Father, I’m ready.” Amelia responded excitedly. Riley watched as her father and sister beat, berated and assaulted the women. She watched as they mutilated and destroyed their physical bodies. Hours later there was silence. Amelia and Edward were spent from the torture. Riley was horrified at what her sister was capable of. She was her father in every way. She was a skilled manipulator. She was a horrific and demented individual. “I have an idea Father, we should throw the bodies in the cell with Katherine for a while. Let her spend some time with our victims. One of them was her victim. Teach her lesson.” Riley spent three days with no food or water in a cell with three decomposing bodies. The smell encompassed her senses causing her to be sick. She knew she could never trust anyone again. Her own sister had turned against her. Become like her father. Maybe I am too. Maybe I am just evil. I. WILL. KILL. THEM. ALL. She wondered how her younger brothers were. If they were still alive.

10 Years Later

Riley had remembered the three days she spent with her first murder victim. She remembered the taste of revenge she had when she murdered her Uncle Astor. Her father was forced to retire into hiding. Her sister had been in a mental institution for a lengthy amount of time. Self admitted of course. She believed it protected her from her sister by living in the upscale mental facility. Riley’s brothers both survived the traumatic experience they had suffered a decade earlier with their Uncle Astor. Eddie had moved on with his life. He never spoke of what happened. He and Riley became estranged. Cornelius disappeared as soon as he was able. He has suffered severe post traumatic stress disorder and had turned to the underbelly of New York City for his coping mechanisms. Riley had been searching for him. She left her position as chairman of the board of directors of Vanderbilt International, after she superseceded her father after his abrupt retirement five years ago on Riley’s behest. Rather her force. She maintained 51% shareholder in the company which left her majority vote. With her company firmly intact and well maintained it left her the freedom to search for her youngest brother. She was ready to save her family and rebuild what bonds she had left. She had found a job as a bartender in a dive bar in the heart of the big apple. It opened up connections to the underworld of drugs, booze and crime. She was getting closer and closer to Neal’s whereabouts until one night. The night she met him. The night his ocean blue eyes met hers. The night she had found her match. The man that was her equal. The man that had faced the pain unlike any other. The man that would kill for her. The man that held equal power. She ran the world. He ran a country.

Her King. His Queen.

#trr dark twisted riley queenriley caution theroyalromance au alternateuniverse choices theroyalheir trh kingliam liamxmc

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doc-pickles · 3 years

Text

won’t let no one break your heart (part six)

we needed SOMETHING after the S17 premiere...

The plane ride to Philadelphia was torturous, to say the least. Jo’s goodbye to Alex at the airport had been harder than she’d anticipated, but she’d steeled her emotions and boarded the plane nonetheless. Her nerves were shot as she anxiously sat through the six hour plane ride, the baby in her stomach flipping and kicking her as if to remind her that she wasn’t alone.

She wasn’t sure why she’d chosen to do this, to come out here and find out answers about a woman who hadn’t even attempted to contact her once in her 34 years of life. Deep down Jo thinks that maybe it’s because of her son, that there’s some desperate part of her that needs to understand what her mother had thought about before she holds her own child. But she knows, if she’s honest with herself, that this doesn’t have anything to do with the baby in her womb. No this trip, this mental cage that she’d locked herself in, had everything to do with the two little girls who were no longer sleeping down the hallway from her and Alex.

Jo had always absently wondered why her mother had left her, but she’d never had the urge to track her down and demand answers. In her head, she’d painted a picture of a young desperate girl with no other options than abandoning her week old daughter at a fire station. She’d been content to leave it at that, to let her story end there. But as she’d stood on her front porch a week ago and watched Sadie and Molly leave, she knew she needed answers. If it physically pained her to let go of the girls who weren’t her own flesh and blood, how had her mother done what she had?

The plane touches down in Philadelphia bright and early on Saturday morning, giving Jo enough time to go to her hotel for a shower and a change of clothes before tracking her mother down. Her body is aching, she knows she should rest and let herself recover from the long flight but she can’t. She needs to know. So she presses her fingers against her stomach in an attempt to calm the little boy doing somersaults inside of her and punches in the address that Parker had found for her into her GPS.

The house is nicer than she’d expected, two newer cars parked in the driveway of the two story home. Jo pushes any fear she still holds aside as she walks up the drive and rings the doorbell. It isn’t long before a young girl, high school aged maybe, answers the door. Jo has to hold her breath for a moment, noticing the similarities between her and the teenager standing before her. The girl, however, is unfazed as she stares quizzically at Jo, “Can I help you?”

“Umm yes,” Jo snaps out of her daze, eyes meeting the girls. “I’m looking for Vicki Rudin. Is she here? I mean, am I in the right place?” “Lexie, who’s at the door,” a middle aged woman appears behind the teenager, eyes widening as she takes Jo in. “Go upstairs, Alexandra.” Lexie, or Alexandra, seems to not want to argue as she silently leaves the entryway. Vicki steps onto the porch, closing the door behind her as she turns to Jo, “What are you doing here?”

“So you know who I am then?” “Of course I do, you look just like…,” Vicki looks over Jo, moving her gaze away quickly as she shakes her head. “Why are you here?”

Jo’s put off by the abrasive tone in Vicki’s voice, if anyone should be mad here it should be her, “I just wanted to talk. Can we do that? Talk?” “Not here,” Vicki’s eyes scan her surroundings, as if someone is watching her every movement. “There’s a diner, a few blocks away. I’ll meet you there if you really want to talk.” “Well I didn’t just fly out here from Seattle for my health, I can think of about a thousand other things to do with my limited free time,” the tone that Jo bites back with is bitter, eyes narrowing at the woman in front of her. “Fine, I’ll meet you there.” She walks back to her car, her worry and fear now replaced with anger and annoyance towards the woman she’d just met. She pulls her phone out, seeing a text from Alex:

10:38 AM

Hope you two are doing okay. I love you.

Even when she’d pushed her husband away, when she’d shut him out of her thoughts and feelings, he was still checking in on her and caring for her. She sends back a quick reply before pulling off the suburban street and heading to the diner Vicki had mentioned. The retro theming and aging waitresses reminds her of the restaurant downtown that Sadie and Molly loved to go to, where they’d beg Alex for quarters to play old songs on the Jukebox. The thought brings a small smile to Jo’s face as she settles into a table, ordering a hot tea from a waitress who stops by.

Vicki walks in fifteen minutes later, eyes immediately falling to Jo and sliding into the seat across from her. She orders a coffee, fixing it with cream and sugar before she dares to speak up, “I'm late for work. Um... I work in the mayor's office. Try to create jobs for under-served communities.” The answer feels like a knife twisting in Jo’s chest as she watches the woman sitting across from her nervously twist her golden wedding bands. The gems on them are large and she wears a few more rings across her hands. Her nails are painted a dark blue, professionally done. These touches along with the suburban dream house and the fancy job all paint a picture Jo had never entertained.

“You know, in my head, you worked at a diner half as nice as this. And you didn't graduate high school, or maybe you did but a year or two late because they don't let pregnant girls finish high school,” her hand instinctively falls to her own pregnant belly. Her son kicks at her hand, as if encouraging her to keep going. “And you scraped by somehow on... hard work and the kindness of strangers, but you had no one. You had nothing.”

“That would make it okay that I left you,” Vicki’s voice sounds hopeful as she stares at Jo. “I wanted you to have a better life than I could give you…”

“Nothing makes it okay,” Jo snapped. Her eyes light with a fire she didn’t know she was capable of feeling as she looks at the woman she’d pictured her whole life. “You know, I didn't have a better life. I wasn't better off. No one found me adoring parents who were dying for a newborn of their own to love. I lived in foster homes so bad, it was better to live in my car. And when a man finally told me that he loved me, I believed him, even when he beat the crap out of me so bad I couldn't see. So whatever life you had, tell me it wasn't better than mine.”

Vicki stares at her blankly and for a moment Jo doesn’t think she’s going to speak again, “You look just like me. You look… so much like the vision of myself that I had to look at for nine months and loathe.”

Jo reads between the lines of Vicki’s statement, fingers curling against her expanding abdomen protectively. Finally a picture begins to form in her head, one that paints a woman who couldn’t love their own child but didn’t have the courage to help them begin their life on the right foot, “Wow. You're just a monster, huh?”

“You don’t understand, you never would,” Vicki gestures vaguely to the silver bands on Jo’s left hand, her eyes narrowing as she brings them to meet hers again. “You probably have a supportive husband at home who holds your hand when you go to your doctor’s appointments. You don’t have to feel fear or regret or anger everytime you go to see your baby.”

The anger in Jo builds, it rises up her throat as she and Vicki hold each other’s stares. She couldn’t believe that this woman was talking about her baby, about Jo herself, like this, “It wasn’t enough to abandon me, you just have to rub the pain in huh?”

“Your father… he was a monster. You weren’t created from some magic moment of love, you’re here because some piece of scum didn’t understand the word ‘no’ as I screamed it over and over again while he forced himself on me,” Vicki takes a deep breath in, her own eyes welling with tears as she focused her gaze on her hands. “I was petrified every single moment of my pregnancy. I was so terrified... imagining that you'd be a boy and that you'd have his face and his voice. And every day, every kick, every movement, it just reminded me where you came from.” Jo’s heart drops so quickly that she feels as if she can’t breathe. Her own little boy kicks about in her womb, the feeling now foreign as she tries to make sense of what Vicki is saying. She’d never imagined, never entertained the thought that she was the product of sexual assault. But here was the reality of it all, slapping her in the face so harshly she almost felt as if her cheek stung.

“But, you know, movies and books and... and magazines, they just kept talking about this...love that you feel the minute your baby is born. How instantaneous it is and how your heart just cracks wide open, and... I remember, I kept telling myself that as soon as I had you in my arms that I could do that and that I would do that. Other women did it, so why couldn't I,” Vicki lets a chuckle out then, the sound like nails on a chalkboard as her voice takes on a spiteful tone. “But it never did. No, it did… Everything they said was absolutely right. My heart cracked wide open. It was never just us, no matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did. It was just a reminder of him and I resented you… so much for it. I think I still do, looking at you now and seeing him in your eyes, seeing you… like that and reminding me of the worst nine months of my life.”

The anger that had been on a slow boil in her chest now erupted as Jo spat at the woman across from her, “No you don’t get to say that, to blame whatever fucked up problems you have on me. You don’t get to blame an innocent child for what happened to you.”

“I did the best I could…”

“Bullshit, the best you could would've been to find an adoption agency and make sure I had a home and someone to love me, not toss me away like garbage,” Jo eyes Vicki before taking a breath and meeting her eyes. “I spent most of my life doubting everyone I ever met, leaving them before they could leave me. I am a grown woman with a job that I love and friends I love and a husband who loves me so much and a son and still... I was walking around, waiting, wondering if you would ever find me. If you would ever say that you're sorry. I don’t need that though, I can tell you’re not sorry for what you did.”

“I did the best I could,” the words have lost their meaning as they tumble out of Vicki’s mouth again. “I couldn’t look at you, I still can’t, but I tried to give you the best I could.”

“No you didn’t! I came here because I spent so many nights laying awake wondering how someone could throw their own flesh and blood to the side like you have, wondering how it was possible when…,” Jo swipes at her eyes, her mind bringing up visions of blonde curls and bright green eyes. “It didn’t make sense that you could do that to me when I would give anything for the little girls I have back in Seattle that aren’t even mine. I couldn’t comprehend how you could do that to your own daughter when I would die for two that aren’t even my own.”

A silence settled over Jo and Vicki, Jo’s mind racing as she thought about Sadie and Molly. They were the reason she’d come out here, to see her mother’s perspective on the beginning of her life in a light that she couldn’t envision herself. Sitting her now though, Jo knew the truth once and for all. She would never be able to understand giving your child up, circumstances be damned.

“You didn’t do anything for me. I have gone my whole life thinking that you leaving me was the only thing you could’ve done, that you had no other option but I was... so wrong,” Jo stands then, fed up with Vicki and the bullshit excuses she keeps feeding her. “I am nothing like you, everything I am I built myself. I am a loving wife and a good friend and... and I am a mother. A damn good one, better than you will ever be. And I’m going to fly home and lay in bed next to my husband in the house that I worked so hard for and pray that I never make my children feel the way that you made me feel.”

Jo walks away, stopping a few feet away and turning back to stand in front of Vicki with her head held high, “Since you never bothered to ask, my name is Josephine. Doctor Josephine Karev and I know now that my life is so much better without you in it.”

She barely remembers to stop at her hotel and grab her suitcase, her mind a blur as she drives to the airport and rebooks her flight. By the time she lands in Seattle it’s pushing 10 PM, Jo hailing a cab and heading home as soon as she’s collected her baggage. She had been so angry, so upset with the woman who she shared half her DNA with as she fled Philadelphia. Now though, standing on the front porch of her and Alex’s home, she was sad and exhausted and all she wanted was her husband.

Unlocking the front door, Jo pushed herself into the living room with the last bit of energy she had, a sigh leaving her as she leaned against the front door. She was shocked to see most of the lights on, assuming Alex was already in bed.

“Jo?” Alex moves from his position at the top of the stairs, his feet taking the stairs two at a time as he realizes that Jo is actually standing in front of him. Jo hadn’t realized she’d been crying until Alex was standing in front of her wiping at the tears that had collected on her cheeks.

“I am so sorry that I’ve been such a terrible wife,” Jo’s voice cracks as she meets Alex’s eyes, a sad expression on his face. “I should’ve just talked to you instead of freaking out but I thought… I thought going out there would give me closure or answers or… something. But it didn’t, it just showed me that I came from two horrible humans. And I know that I’m nothing like them but…

“I just sat across from her and listened to her tell me that what she did was what she thought was best for me and all I could think about was how I could never do that to our son,” Jo takes a deep breath, tears flowing down her face again as she struggles to speak. “And then I thought about doing that to Sadie and Molly and I couldn’t stomach the thought of it, of never seeing them again. And that’s when I realized that I’m a better person because I didn’t know her. It just… took me a long time to realize that.”

Alex wraps Jo in his arms, letting her finally let out the emotions she’d been trying to conceal since she’d walked out of the diner.

“I’m sorry things didn’t pan out like you’d wanted them to,” Alex’s lips pressed against her forehead as she reigned in her emotions, wiping at her cheeks to clear her tears. His hand wandered down to her bump, cradling it as he smiled down at her. “For the record, I think you’re already a fantastic mom.”

“And for the record, you were right about Sadie and Molly,” Jo hesitantly met Alex’s eyes, a smirk already pasted across his face. “They belong here, with us. So we can call Martha and tell her that, because if there’s one thing that the past 24 hours has shown me it’s that I can’t imagine us without them now.” Alex wrapped an arm around Jo, ushering her upstairs, “Well we can call first thing tomorrow morning. For now, you two need to get to bed.” Jo was thrown off by Alex’s nonchalant response for a moment until they stepped into their bedroom. She turned to him with a smirk of her own, “You are a very sneaky man, did you know that?”

“Mama!” “Mommy!”

“Oh I am so glad to see you two,” Jo settled herself onto the edge of their bed as Sadie and Molly both clambering onto her lap. “I missed you so much.” “Martha dropped them off this morning, they kept asking for us,” Alex rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “I was gonna call but I knew you were busy. But I figured you wouldn’t mind them coming back.” “Does this mean we get to stay forever? Does it,” Sadie’s innocent question brought tears to Jo’s eyes again, this round welcome as she stared down at the little girls sitting on her lap.

“Do you want that? To stay here forever with us?” Both girls responded with a chorus of yeses, Alex and Jo’s eyes meeting over their heads. They exchanged a look before Jo turned back to the girls with a smile, “I think we can make that work.”

#jolex #jo wilson #jo karev #alex karev #jo x alex #jolex fanfic #jolex fic #greys anatomy #greys anatomy fanfic #nina writes

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scullysexual · 3 years

Text

A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Reposted Anniversary]

If you’ve get to read the first chapter, you can read it on Tumblr. Alternatively, you can also find it on AO3 along with this chapter.

@today-in-fic @mypanicface @impulsive-astrophile @enigmaticxbee

- - -

Chapter Two.

The accommodation is located on B-deck, easy enough to find. Phoebe and Mother get stopped along the way, a conversation proceeds in the middle of the hallway between the two women and some other people Mulder doesn’t care to remember the name of. His father shakes his head leading Mulder away.

“They’ll come when they’re ready,” Bill says as they continue to walk to their rooms.

And the rooms are nice enough; mahogany furniture, floral tapestries covering the couches and chairs. The bedroom is large: a walk-in wardrobe Phoebe should hopefully be happy with. He touches the pillows and his disappointment comes when he finds they are feather. He places it back down.

What’s a bit of lack of sleep for a week?

In the mirror, he catches the reflection of the safe. Spinning around on his heels, he walks over to it, pulling it open. His hand strokes the inside feeling the cold iron. It’s of decent size, enough room to place valuables. He looks to the carry-on he’d brought on with him, an idea in his head. Reaching into the bag, his fingers gripping hold of the old leather book. Pulling it out, he places it inside the safe. With a bit of manoeuvring he manages to fit it in and is still able to lock the safe afterwards.

Few people know about that book, a few more know about his talent that comes with it. Phoebe knew about the talent but not the book. His parents know briefly of his talent but again, not the book. The book is his and while he is in no way ashamed of his drawings- in fact, if one were to turn the first page they would be met with a very innocent drawing of his sister, however a bit further on and they’ll find the not-so-innocent drawings. It was those he wanted to keep secret.

“Fox!” he hears Phoebe’s clear-cut voice break through the air. Sighing, his moment of peace over, he double-checks that the safe is shut and locked and exits the bedroom to see his dearly beloved fiancé and the mutt she holds in a cage.

Mulder groans.

“Did you really have to bring that thing, Phoebe?”

Phoebe looks at him as though he’s just told her she wouldn’t be eating dinner for a month.

“Of course I had to bring her Fox,” she says in utter disgust. “Did you just expect me to leave her behind?” She takes the Maltese out of its cage, giving the cage to one of her maids before she holds the animal up.

“I know you don’t like the cage, sweetie. You can stay out of it from now on.” The dog begins fussing in her arms and Phoebe gasps. “Tuppence needs a potty break,” she hands the dog out to Mulder. “Take her.”

Mulder stares at the hairball currently in his face. “Can’t you take her?” he asks, careful to use the word ‘her’ rather than ‘it’.

“I can’t. I need to unpack.”

“I can do that.”

Phoebe looks at him like he’s grown another head.

“No, you’ll just put things in the wrong place.”

Mulder sighs and accepts his punishment.

“Alright, where’s the leash?”

Maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the doggy pooping area is the third class deck but it does. He had looked for an actual area originally but there didn’t seem to be one that existed, he just followed the crowd in a sense and saw another dog doing its business down there.

He lets the dog get on with it, lets it take its time too, maybe it’ll wander too far to the rail and fall off the ship, but Mulder doubts he’s that lucky.

His attention moves away from the dog to the people. A man and his daughter who sits on the rails, her back against his chest, an arm securing her so she doesn’t fall off. The father points to the islands in the distance. Mulder can’t hear the words but he imagines that she’s telling her the names of them, maybe stories about who those people were. Maybe the man knows who the people were.

A second man, older than the first, sits on a bench with his eyes shut and lets the breeze ruffle what little hair he has.

Mulder’s eyes move to another little girl who kicks a ball over to a red-headed boy. The boy picks the ball up, turning his face to the sky and Mulder watches as he balances the ball on his nose like a sealion in a zoo. The little girl laughs and as does another girl with the same red hair as the boy. Mulder finds himself drawn to it and drawn to the girl, a genuine smile breaking out across his face for what feels like the first time in a long time, his stomach twisting and heart folding in on itself all in a good way as he stares at her. Whatever this feeling is, he likes it.

“How old you do think that boy is?” a voice beside him asks. Mulder startles, never even hearing the man approach. “Fifteen? Sixteen?” Mulder moves his gaze back over to the red haired boy. “When I was fifteen, my father sent me off to boarding school.”

“You envy them?” Mulder asks. Most people he’s met in his life scorn them, question how they could live like that. A change in tune is a nice welcome.

“A little bit. Makes you wonder what experiences he’s had this far.”

The boy turns and Mulder is taken back slightly by the gash on his face.

“He’s experienced a good punch if that cut is anything to go by,” Mulder laughs. He stretches his arm out towards the man. “I’m Mulder,” he says.

The name strikes no recognition with a man for which Mulder is absolutely grateful for.

“John Byers.”

Similarly, the name does strike any recognition for Mulder either. The two shake hands just as the dogs wander over. Mulder opens the gate, attaching the leash back onto Tuppence.

“I’ll see you at dinner, then?” Byers calls as Mulder makes his way back inside.

“Yes, you will.”

Dinner turns out to be a dull affair, minus the bit of drama beforehand: Phoebe’s hissy-fit at not “having anything to wear”. Mulder had got back to the room to find that everything had been packed away. The walk-in wardrobe he thought Phoebe would be fine with only has enough room to fit half her clothes into. She’d cried that she wasn’t prepared to live out of her suitcase for a week. Mulder had compromised, given up the small area he’d reserved for his clothes to fit the rest of Phoebe’s. Now his clothes reside in his father’s room.

All in all, the whole debacle had delayed them by thirty minutes.

Other than that, the dinner itself was a dull affair. Mulder was continuingly zoning out throughout it, his thoughts entirely focused upon the girl on the deck. Who was she? Why couldn’t he think of anything else? Why did he feel what he felt? What did he even feel?

“Fox…Fox…” he swears he hears his Mother saying.

It’s Phoebe’s sigh of annoyance that forces him out of his reverie.

“He’s doing that thing again, Mother.”

“Fox!” his father barks. Mulder looks to his father, dazed for a moment and fully aware he has no idea what conversation is going on. “Mr Skinner is speaking to you.”

Mulder looks towards the bald man, only now realising that he had joined their table.

“I’m sorry, Mr Skinner,” Mulder apologises. “You were saying?”

“I was just congratulating you and Miss Green on your engagement,” Skinner tells him.

Mulder smiles and reaches for Phoebe’s hand on the table, clasping their fingers together. Not showing anything is amiss, Phoebe smiles.

“Thank you, Mr Skinner,” Mulder says. He looks to Phoebe then. “My only wish is for this week to hurry so I can soon make Phoebe my wife officially.”

He brings the hand he holds to his lips then, placing a gentle kiss to the top of it. And Phoebe sincerely smiles at him.

Mulder’s never hated himself more.

Just as they’re finishing their third course does the conversation change once more. Mulder pays no mind to it, he nods when he’s expected to and that is all.

“You’re old friend Bill,” a man from the farther end of the table shouts over. “Spender- is he on the ship, do you know?”

“I saw his son before,” says Phoebe. “He didn’t look too happy.”

“You remember Jeffrey, don’t you, son?” Bill asks Mulder.

“Yes, he was in my Psychology class at Oxford,” Mulder answers simply before going back to his soup.

The man at the end of the table pipes up again. “I never saw the point in educating yourself on those types of subjects. Seems a waste of time.”

“Fox has a special knack for reading people, don’t you?”

Mulder nods. And I can read you people better than you think.

Dessert is on its way when the conversation changes once more. The man at the end of the table telling everyone, once again, that he has an opinion to make.

“Would anyone else sleep better knowing we weren’t sharing a boat with steerage?”

Mulder’s stomach twists.

“Mother and I saw some wandering down our hallway earlier. How they managed to get up there, I have no idea.”

“Maybe they were just lost, Phoebe,” Mulder says as gently as he can, the anger seething beneath.

“Whatever they’re excuse, a crewmember soon shouted at them to leave and off they scurried off.”

“Like rats in the woodwork, back down to the basement were they belong,” the man at the end of the table gruffly laughs.

“I’m sure they won’t be an issue anymore,” says Father.

Done with the conversation and dinner all together, Mulder denies dessert as its served.

“I just feel a bit sick,” Mulder says when questioned.

“You might have caught something off the docks earlier,” says Phoebe reaching up to touch his forehead. She looks to the gathering worriedly, “He is burning up.”

Mulder brings her hand away. “I’ll see you later on,” he says and with that he leaves the table, no kiss, no hug, no form of intimacy at all, he just leaves.

The breeze is welcomed from the hot and stuffy dining room. For all their visitors at the table Mulder hoped the man he met earlier- Byers- would have joined them. It would have been nice to know someone thought the same things as him.

He makes his way to the back of the ship, away from on-lookers and those who would judge him, happy to find the stern empty.

He walks over to the rails, feeling the cold oak between his fingers as he looks out to the darkness around him. His mind drifts back to earlier, to the father and daughter and he finds himself beginning to climb the rails.

His heart is in this throat every step. Mulder never considered himself afraid of much, if he was dared to do something he’d do it but maybe it’s the fact that he’s alone that scares him. Whenever a dare in involved there’s always at least another person, someone to catch you if you fall, someone to pull you back when they get too scared but out here it’s only him- only him, the ship, and the sea and if he falls that’s it.

He thinks about how that little girl must have felt. Was she scared at first? Did she refuse to sit on the rail for fear of falling? Was it only when she felt her father behind her, arms around her chest that she felt safe, that she knew she wasn’t going to fall?

“I hope you’re not considering jumping?”

Mulder startles, almost losing his balance in the process. He grips the rails tighter, wondering if this was such a good idea after all.

A nervous laugh falls from his lips.

“I wasn’t until you nearly made me.”

“Sorry,” the woman says. A woman’s voice. “I just saw you climb up there and got a wee bit nervous, that’s all.”

Mulder twists slightly so he can see the person. As he turns, he almost falls again when he realises who’s standing there.

The red-headed girl from earlier.

“Maybe you should get down,” she says, face a full display of concern. She edges closer slowly. “It’s a long way down if you fall off.”

She leans against the rails just as he’d done earlier.

“Maybe I like the risk,” Mulder says, a façade of a fearless smile appearing across his face. Really, he was shitting bricks.

“You won’t like the fall,” she says, her voice serious, no hint of the playfulness he’s trying to have. “It’ll be like hitting concrete and if you just so happened to survive that, it won’t take long for the cold to get ye.”

Mulder looks down into the water directly below him.

“How long we talking?” he asks.

Her answer is quick, ready like she’d been prepared to answer all along.

“Thirty minutes for the hypothermia to kick in, one to two hours before you die.” The facts all out, she turns sombre and concerned once more. “Not exactly a quick death if that’s what you wanted.”

Gaining her point, he begins to twist on the rails, back to the sea as he jumps down.

“There,” he says, dusting himself off. “No harm done.” He looks down at her, realising just how much he towers over her. Phoebe is tall for a woman, almost his height in heels, but this girl…Mulder estimates she not much taller than 5’4.

He stretches out his hand, curious as to why the universe has thrown her in his path for a second time that day and even more curious to know why she knows so much about cold water.

“I’m Mulder.”

She ignores his hand, an eyebrow shooting up. “Mulder? I’m not entitled to a first name?”

Mulder laughs nervously again, throwing his arm to his side. “You don’t want to know it.”

She regards him, as if wondering whether he is worth an interest in or not.

“In that case…” she draws out. “I’m Scully.”

#a jewel beneath the moonlight #chapter 1 #updated #anniversary repost #i write

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dulcets-world · 4 years

Text

He Knows - a FNaF Michael and William Afton drabble

(Putting these on top as well just in case. TW for child death, murder, suicide, and implied stalking!)

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~July 1990~

William Afton had just returned from the grocery store when he saw his eldest son, Michael, sitting on the couch watching tv. It was an odd sight, to say the least. He knew his son had planned on visiting him some time during the week, but not today. William hadn’t even prepared anything for him yet. “Michael, my boy!” William exclaimed, putting his bags down on the counter before walking up to his son. “Why, I wasn’t expecting you for a while! Had I known you were coming today, I would’ve whipped us up something to enjoy.”

William was about to embrace Michael in a hug, but stopped short when his son quickly put both his of hands up. That was when William took in his expression. Michael’s eyebrows were drawn together and his lips set in a firm line. He looked at him with hard gray eyes as his arms crossed and he scooted further into the couch, his breathing seeming somewhat shaky and what looked like tear tracks running across Michael’s face.

“Michael?” William asked. “Is everything alright?” Something was wrong, that much he could tell. Is that why his son came so early? He knelt down to better look Michael in the eyes. “Michael, are you okay? Did anything happen while I was gone? Did-”

“I’m fine, father.” Michael spoke, his voice sounding hoarse. “It’s just… I-I was just overwhelmed by how much New Harmony has changed and I…” He paused for a moment. “I-It’s just good to be back now. I’m here, in my childhood home, with the…greatest father in the world.” He smiled at him, trying to indicate that he was okay, that he was fine. However, William knew better. Michael was not as much of an actor as he was, and it showed clearly in the way he composed himself, especially in the smile. It was like it had been sewn onto his face, so unnatural and forced. William knew better, so he decided that he shouldn’t push too much. At least, not until Michael was in a better state.

“Ah, I see. I’m just glad that you made it home safe. Welcome back, Michael.” He turned his back towards his son and began to go and put the groceries away, humming a little tune to himself. A few seconds had passed, and he began to hear footsteps shuffling from the living room and into the kitchen. They came to a halt a few feet away from him. When William turned back around, Michael was standing in the archway, leaning slightly, but still seeming guarded. The tension was still there, William could feel it. So, he cleared his throat and thought it best to help Michael loosen up.

“So, Michael, how did you get in? If I recall, I don’t think there’s anyone else but me who could let you in.” A good icebreaker, something to calm him down, while also getting a few answers out of him. It must’ve worked, because he saw Michael slowly stop leaning on the archway.

“There…There was a spare key under the doormat.” Said Michael.

That sounded about right. He completely forgot about the spare key. He left it there in case he forgot his own keys. Now, if only he could figure out the rest of Michael’s little problem. “Ah, yes. I forgot about those keys. Well, it’s a good thing that they are being put to use.” He hoped that he was playing his cards correctly. “How has work been? I also know you were in college as well. How has that been? I bet you’ve met some wonderful people there. Maybe a few ladies as well.” He chuckled, playing with his tie a little bit.

Michael raised an eyebrow at him. “School has been fine.” He said. “I’m currently using my vacation days for work, but that has been somewhat decent as well.” He moved to the other side of the counter. “You’re asking a lot of questions right now. Why is that?”

William laughed. “Well, isn’t that what catching up is all about? We’re father-son bonding. I just want to make sure that my son is doing his absolute best and that everything is going perfect in his life.” He had turned away once more in order to put away the meats. “I believe that secrets shouldn’t be kept from other family members. We’re family for a reason, after all. Trust is important.”

“So, what you’re saying is that you’re an honest man?” Michael asked. “You say that no secrets should be kept from family. You’re basically saying that we should always know what the other is feeling or doing just because we’re bound by blood.” Michael began to tap his fingers on the counter.

What had gotten into his son? He must’ve said something wrong. He didn’t mean to rile him up. William had to try again. “Of course, I’m an honest man. Michael, I just want to know what’s going on in your life and with you. You’ve been acting strange Michael and as your father, I want to know if something in your life is bothering you. No secrets, just honesty.”

“Hypocrite.” Michael spat.

…..What?

“If you’re such an honest man, why didn’t you tell me about the children?”

William halted in his tracks. The children? Surely he couldn’t be talking about them. Michael didn’t know, he wasn’t supposed to know, about any of the children. He hid everything under lock and key. He kept his special journal in a secret compartment that only he knew about. The only way Michael could know about his involvement with the children is...

William put on the best smile he could and turned to look at Michael. “Children? Michael, I have not the faintest clue what you are talking about.” He messed with his tie a little, hoping it would calm him down. “What do you mean by “the children”? asked William.

Michael gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing at his father as he yanked out the one thing William thought he hid so carefully. The journal. “Oh, like you don’t know mister “I’m totally not a liar”. I read the journal, father.”

No. No, no, no! Is that why Michael was crying when he came in? Was he crying over a couple of children? No, he hid that journal carefully! This couldn’t be happening! “Michael.” said William. “How’d you get that journal?”

“What does that matter?! I read each and every page of this damn thing and at first I thought: “There’s no way he could’ve done this. He’s such a nice father, isn’t he? Isn’t he?”.” Michael waved the journal around angrily, nearly swatting at William. “Every page, all of them are filled with detail after detail on their torture. You tortured children!”

“Michael, please, you’re not feeling well. Perhaps you just need a good night’s rest and-”

“Eleven children. That’s how many I’ve counted in here. You tortured and murdered eleven children, and for what?!” Michael exclaimed. “For what reason did you have to kill them?!”

William went silent. He knew better, he was supposed to know better, he always knew better. None of this was supposed to happen. He was going to have a nice few days of relaxation with his son. They would catch up and hang out, like a father and son would. He didn’t account for this error.

“Tell me! Why the hell did you do this?!”

The whole scene was falling apart. He needed to keep his act together. Surely, if Michael heard his reasoning, everything would go back to normal. He would garner the sympathy of Michael and his son would apologize for being so rude. He would be understanding of his reasons, for they were understandable in his eyes.

“You remember Lizzie and Kenny, right? What about your mother?” William asked. Michael’s breath hitched as heard those names. “Your darling little sister, your sweet baby brother and your angelic mother. They were the lights of my life. I bet they were yours too.” He moved closer to Michael, but Michael stepped back. William frowned at this.

“My poor Lizzie, who was found dead in a dumpster. You remembered how much your mother cried that day.” He recalled that terrible day. His heart trembled at the sight of the police pulling out the young girl’s body. His wife screamed in agony when she recognized the cute pink long-sleeve the girl was known for wearing. He remembered how before that, Elizabeth slowly suffocated inside the metal cage of Circus Baby, with him completely unaware until Kenny ran to him crying about it. “It hurt to see such a dreadful thing happen to my daughter.”

For months after that whole incident, William couldn’t stop thinking about how unfair it was that his own daughter was gone, but yet others would never be able to feel his pain. Especially Henry, who still had his own daughter and son. Month after month, William would watch as Charlie got to play with the other kids, all while imagining Lizzie in her place, still alive. Charlie, Charlie, Charlie. She wasn’t supposed to be alive, Lizzie was!

“I couldn’t help but envy all of those other kids. They got to live, but my own little girl didn’t! Oh and Henry, he just had to flaunt it around with his own children!” He told himself, on August of 1980, that he was only going to do this just so that Henry could feel his pain. It wasn’t fair, so now he would make it fair. “Charlie was funny, don’t get me wrong, but Henry had to understand that I lost a daughter. I was in despair and so was my family. I had to make him understand.”

He kept telling himself, as he strangled the twelve-year-old, that he was doing it for Lizzie and so that Henry could feel his pain. That’s why he was so happy as Charlie’s life drained from her eyes. It was because things would be fair.

“Kenny. My youngest son. You know exactly what happened to him.” William’s comment made Michael’s shoulders slump and his eyes widen. That dreadful little birthday gone horribly wrong. His son died at just ten years of age six days later, and his wife followed shortly after, bleeding out in the bathtub. “My wife couldn’t take it. She died the moment Kenny did. But those little rats? They received no punishment for destroying my family!”

He kept repeating to himself why he was doing this. His family had died while those bullies kept theirs. It wasn’t fair, and William knew this. He watched as one of them, who he believed was named Fritz Smith, picked up his siblings from school. His hand’s turned into fists at the sight of them. This kid needed to feel his pain, he told himself. That’s why he would be doing this, he told himself. Those little children, they needed to die.

“Their parents were not going to punish them, so I thought it best to do it myself. It hurt to do it, but I told myself, they needed to feel my pain. That’s why I took their siblings.”

William told himself that he was doing this for his family as he pointed a knife at Riley and Robbie. These kids couldn’t live as his died, he repeated as he chased after Joseph and Beverly. That’s why he felt so much adrenaline and happiness. When Sam began screaming and begging for the pain to end, William told himself that those bullies needed to feel his pain the hard way. This would make things fair.

“My boy. Things were never fair for me.” He took Michael by the shoulders. “I only did these things so that those people could understand the pain our family was going through. Nobody understood just how broken we were becoming. I could feel our picture perfect dollhouse falling to pieces while others went on without a care.” His grip became tighter. “It wasn’t fair, so I made it fair, Michael.”

Michael would understand. He knew he would understand. Their family was slowly falling apart while others lived on happy and content. He was sure that Michael would know what it was like to live in envy of others. They were broken, that’s what he told himself. He was doing this for the family, for they were broken. No other reason. Surely, his only living son would understand.

Michael pushed William away, growling. “What about the other five? What was your reason with them?” Michael asked. The other five? Surely William had a reason for them! It was the same for the six before them, right? So then, why couldn’t he find an answer?

“You say you killed Charlie so that Henry could understand your pain over losing a daughter. You say you killed the first five so that bullies could be punished.” Michael flipped to the final pages of the journal. “Susie, Fritz, Jeremy, Gabriel, and Cassidy. Those were the last ones in here. Why did you kill them?”

William had a reason for those five! It’s just that he wasn’t able to think of it! He remembered the feeling of glee and power during it all. He remembered just that sweet sense of euphoria as he ripped apart each child in whatever way she wanted too. Yet, for some reason, he couldn’t remember why he did it all. He had a reason for it. He had a reason for killing them! That’s what he told himself every time. This is why I’m doing this. I’m doing this because of this. Why wasn’t it coming to him?!

“Michael, that’s enough! I thought you’d understand!” William cried. “I did this all for a reason, isn’t that enough?!” All he could remember were the sensations. He swore he had a reason for what he did to those five. Something that people could sympathize with and understand. But yet, all that would come up was the feelings that he’d get from each murder. “They had to go, I swear! Don’t you get it?!”

Michael laughed, his voice as cold as steel. “You don’t have a reason, do you?” He threw the journal at William. “You’re making shit up. You didn’t do this for our “broken family”, you did this because you wanted to feel the joy of destruction, didn’t you? That’s why you can’t think of another pathetic excuse to use.”

“You did it for the sensation, not for your family, didn’t you?”

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #william afton #michael afton #tw implied child death #tw murder #tw child death #tw suicide #tw implied stalking #a little drabble babble #dulcet tries to art #William be making excuses #but Michael knows better #will quit trying to convice yourself #that you're a good person cause you aint

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megalony · 5 years

Text

Mother dearest- Part 2

This is the second part to my Ben Hardy fic which I hope everyone enjoyed that is based on a previous imagine I did and the tv show The Act. I may do another follow-up part, I’m undecided about that yet.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction

Part 1

Enjoy.

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"Where on Earth have you been?!"

(Y/n) closed her eyes as her shoulders tensed at the tone her mother was shrieking at her in. She slowly closed the front door behind her, wanting to simply rest her weight against it and collapse to the floor in a heap.

Ben had offered when he brought (Y/n) back to come inside with her either for support or to calm her down. He didn't want to leave her here with her mother when she was in such a state. (Y/n) had stayed with Ben the previous night and he had tried his best to help her and calm her down but the longer the night went on the more (Y/n) seemed to get upset.

Her mother had lied to her.

(Y/n) ate some chocolate, a biscuit, had a few spoonfuls of sugar in a very milky coffee and all that happened was she was sick. She wasn't allergic to sugar but now that she hadn't had much at all for over four years, her body was becoming intolerable to it. Her mother had ruined her metabolism, made her sick more times than she could count and had her on a diet that had made her ill and very skinny for nothing. She had lied to (Y/n) for years because she wanted something wrong with her so she could keep her at home and continue to 'care' for her.

This made (Y/n) think that if her mother had lied about this to her, what else had she lied about?

Had (Y/n) really needed all of those operations on her eyes? Did she need her salivary glands removed when she was seven? She knew she had epilepsy when she was little but her mother still made her take the medication for it, does she actually need to take the medication that stops her from being able to drive? The medication that often made her sick and had ruined three of her teeth when she was younger. Did (Y/n) really need the medication for her stomach or was she simply feeling ill due to her mother cutting out sugar in her diet?

Did (Y/n) actually suffer from sleep apnea when she was younger and did she have sleeping problems now or was she being dosed on medication for the sake of it?

Finally opening her eyes, (Y/n) looked up at her mother who was speeding towards her now. Concern mixed with anger was plastered on her face as she rested her hands to (Y/n)'s shoulders only to have her daughter shrug her away. (Y/n)'s head was pounding from the constant questions and worries floating around in her mind.

She had spent last night in Ben's arms going through everything but it only made her feel worse. Now she was home and able to get the answers she needed, (Y/n) didn't know if she actually wanted them or not. This was her mother, the woman who had said it was her purpose to care for (Y/n). This was her mother who had taken her to the hospital, gotten her the medication she apparently needed. Who knew when to give her the medication, who knew what foods she liked that she could actually eat. Her mother who loved her and cared for her all of her life.

If everything about her medical history had been a lie then that made most of (Y/n)'s life false. It made her ill for no reason and made her suffer and be held back for no reason at all except her mother's uncontrollable need to be wanted. It meant (Y/n) didn't actually know her mother as well as she thought she did. It made a hatred grow inside (Y/n) for her mother.

"I've been with Ben." (Y/n) responded, no emotion to her voice as she stared at her mother through tortured eyes. Pushing her weight off of the front door (Y/n) barged past her mother with the little strength she had left, aiming for the kitchen.

"All night?! I don't know what's gotten into you (Y/n) but this is not acceptable- what are you doing?" Her mother stopped in her tracks when (Y/n) suddenly took an apple and taken a rather large chunk out of the fruit she was never allowed. The fruit that had sugar in which would apparently flare up her allergy. (Y/n) wasn't sure if she really liked the taste or not, there were so many foods and drinks that she could try now that she knew she could have them. But at the same time she couldn't go and stuff herself with sugar because her body had done without it for years, she would have to gradually get used to it and that was all because of her mother.

"You lied to me. I'm not allergic to sugar." (Y/n)'s words seemed to go in one ear and out the other as she watched her mother hurriedly rummage around in the cupboard to her right which contained plasters, bandages, medications and her spare EpiPen.

"Oh, you stupid girl! That boy has twisted your head, of course you're allergic, we're going to have to go to the doctors again." She mumbled the last part to herself as she reached out to grab (Y/n)'s arm. Her patience wearing thin when her daughter shrugged her away. (Y/n) hit out at her mother when she roughly pulled her arm to try and stab the EpiPen into her arm for the adrenaline that she didn't need. (Y/n) had eaten sugar last night, she had eaten far too much for her system and threw it back up but she wasn't allergic.

Reaching her hand out, (Y/n) grabbed the EpiPen from her mother and threw it to the floor. Her eyes were beginning to burn with acidic tears that were falling from her features as she stared at her mother with a burning fury.

"Stop it." (Y/n) whispered lowly, almost snarling at her mother as she didn't receive a response. Her mother seemed to be shocked in place, unsure what she was meant to do now she had clearly been caught. "I don't need glasses, I'm not allergic to sugar. Tell me what else you lied about." Her mother seemed to take a moment to blink as she came to the realisation that (Y/n) wasn't wearing her navy blue glasses like she normally was.

(Y/n) had thought last night that if her mother could lie about any of her conditions, had she lied about needing glasses too? She had always been told that the operations on her eyes had made her sight a bit better but she needed the glasses to keep her vision corrected. Last night (Y/n) took them off and tried to read a book or just walk around without them. She could read a book, she could watch tv and she could walk around with perfect vision without the glasses sitting on her nose. This was only more proof that she had been lied to all of her life and (Y/n) had an awful feeling that she was actually perfectly healthy meaning all of her life was a lie.

"Now listen to me. That boy has put ideas in your head. Your vision is better now but you need those glasses to keep it that way, you have always been allergic to sugar... maybe your just beginning to tolerate it now. Stop acting out like this. We'll forget you sneaking out and disappearing to be with this boy but this is the only time. You do not see him again."

Something horrid seemed to come over (Y/n). She didn't know what it was but she had never felt such a feeling of anger and pure hatred in all her life. The apple that was beginning to get crushed in her hand was suddenly launched at the far wall, splattering its juice up the wall and letting chunks of soggy apple fly out and slide down the wall. A sob escaped her lips as she kicked her foot out at one of the cupboards beside her.

This was not fair. This was not how things were meant to happen. (Y/n) should have had a childhood like Ben did. She should have been able to go out and make friends, go to school full time, not have to live in a hospital. She should have been able to eat sweets and chocolate and fruit and normal bread and desserts. She shouldn't have been put on a diet for no reason or had all of those appointments or operations for what seems to be nothing. (Y/n) is eighteen, she should be able to go out with Ben and be and feel normal but her mother wasn't allowing that.

"If you've lied to me about anything else, I will never forgive you." (Y/n) didn't have the strength to fight her mother on this when it seemed that all her mother was going to do was lie to save her own skin. (Y/n) could find out the truth in other ways, she didn't need to try and get her mother to tell the truth when she was so desperate to guard it and keep it secret.

Spotting her phone on the counter near to her mother, (Y/n) took it on her way out of the kitchen as she headed upstairs. Knowing her mother thought she was backing down like she always did.

(Y/n) couldn't stay here knowing what her mother had done all her life, she couldn't continue to be here and be treated like a sick child younger than she actually was. Being told to sit and play or go to her room or having timed medication for things she didn't need. Her mother was going to treat her like a baby and she didn't want to be trapped with no escape. (Y/n) wanted to be away from the house that was becoming a locked cage to her. Ben's mother said if ever she needed, (Y/n) could stay with them if things got complicated at home and that was the only option (Y/n) had.

Her mother had isolated her from any of their family since she was a baby, she only had two friends and Ben. She had no other friends or family and knew no one else who could get her out of this situation. Ben was her lifeline and all she could do was hang onto that.

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

"Hey baby, how's it going with your mum?" Ben's tone was gentle yet understanding. He had been waiting all night for a text message or a phone call from her to say that she was alright or she needed picking up or that something had happened. He had mulled over everything in his head and had even talked to his mother about it and all he could come up with was the same conclusion that there was something up with (Y/n)'s mother.

To fake your child's illness in such horrific ways was uncalled for and unheard of. Ben didn't like the thought of (Y/n) being back at home with her mother who was clearly manipulative in case something happened. And the longer he didn't hear from (Y/n) the more worried he became.

"Can you come get me?" (Y/n)'s mother had always played up on her epilepsy, sometimes she had said (Y/n) had seizures in her sleep and so she was kept on medication and this meant that she couldn't learn to drive. That was also good for her mother because it meant (Y/n) couldn't leave if she was mad or angry or simply wanted to escape. She had successfully trapped (Y/n) at home until she met Ben who had his own car and could drive.

"Sure, has something happened?" She could already hear the blond moving about, probably going to get his keys and shoes to head for her now.

"I'm scared... mum's trying to give me meds and she gave me more sleeping pills than I normally take last night. She's not letting me out of her sight, I want to leave."

When she had been in her room her mother had come up with a small handful of pills for her stomach and epilepsy and last night had given her some sleeping pills too. (Y/n) knew she had been handed more pills than she needed and so had placed them into her mouth, drank the cup of water and when her mother left she quickly spat the pills out and flushed them down the toilet. Her mother was dosing her on medication she didn't need. She had given her more sleeping pills to knock her out in case she tried to leave during the night.

"You didn't take them, did you?"

"No, she's acting like I'm still ill a-and she doesn't want me to see you-" Ben could hear the panic and fear in his girlfriend's voice and it brought tears to his eyes. She was afraid for her safety because of her own mother, that was something no one should ever go through and it was something that (Y/n) had never had to worry about before now.

She had been so close to her mother before and now she was seeing that the world wasn't the way she had been told it was. She was seeing her mother's true colours and Ben knew that was going to affect her much more than it would for anyone else.

"Alright, calm down sweetheart. I'm leaving now, I'll be ten minutes I promise just hang on 'til I get there." Ben hushed, trying to keep his tone level as he headed out the front door, pushing his phone into his pocket when (Y/n) mumbled a quick response. She needed Ben to come and get her now before something happened with her mother who was getting increasingly worrying for (Y/n). She was being sickly sweet to (Y/n) but there was a threatening aura about her that was setting her on edge.

Her mother was going back to acting as if she was a child and nothing was wrong between them. She seemed to have a reset button and was continuing to act like (Y/n) still had all of her medical problems that they both knew were all false. She had caught (Y/n) having a jam sandwich and scolded her because jam had sugar in. Out of fear, (Y/n) had put the sandwich in the bin because her mother had gone to grab the EpiPen. She was willing to keep dosing (Y/n) with adrenaline for no reason whatsoever which could have harmed her body over the years.

Grabbing the binder sat in front of her, (Y/n) got to her feet, stuffed her phone into her bag and slung it on her shoulder. She couldn't hide up here and wait for Ben to turn up, she needed to wait downstairs or even out in the street so her mother couldn't prevent her from leaving.

(Y/n) paced up and down the hallway for a few moments before slowly descending down the stairs, trying to prolong the time so she could get outside when Ben arrived. It never took him long to get here but today the minutes were turning into hours. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, her head turned in the direction of her mother who was just walking out of the living room, stopping in her tracks when she saw her daughter.

"What are you doing, honey? Why have you got my binder?" Her tone started in the same usual sickly sweet way before her words were more spiteful, more dark and humourless when she noticed the pink and blue striped binder in (Y/n)'s arm.

"You lied to me about everything, how can you expect me to stay when I know what you're doing?" (Y/n)'s tone was heartbroken as she watched the sorrow, fear and anger run around in her mother's eyes. The binder was all the proof (Y/n) needed to know that her life was a lie that she had been fed. It showed her medical history and all the procedures and appointments she had. Each one said that her mother said she had vision problems, her mother said she was epileptic and having fits in the night. Her mother told the doctors that she had stomach problems, that she needed her salivary glands removed. Her mother said she was allergic to nuts and sugar. Her mother told them everything that was wrong with (Y/n) and they went along with it.

If a doctor didn't do what she wanted she went and found one who would and (Y/n) hadn't known. All her life she had thought her mother knew best, that she knew what was wrong with (Y/n) and how to deal with it but she hadn't. She had played everyone to get what she wanted. She wanted sympathy for caring for a sick daughter who was never going to leave because she needed constant care.

"I told you to stop this stupid game. Give that to me and go to your room-"

"To do what? Play happy families with a lying, cheating, vicious mother and act like I'm eight? I don't want to be near you anymore." How could her mother think she would give in? That she would simply go upstairs like a scolded child and live out the rest of her life pretending to be sick.

It was as if on cue that there was a knock at the door and (Y/n) didn't have to open it to know that on the other side it was Ben. He hadn't sat in the car like usual, he had been more on edge than normal and he knew that if (Y/n) didn't run out of the house to get to the car straight away he should knock on the door to check on her. Both (Y/n) and her mother locked eyes for a split second as one was confused and one was relieved about the person on the other side of the door.

Pressing the binder closer to her chest, (Y/n) turned and unlocked the door within a split second. The door only just opening to reveal Ben before a gasp left her lips, her head jolting backwards when she felt her mother grasping her hair to pull her back.

(Y/n)'s elbow flew into her mother's stomach, successfully winding her which caused her to stumble, pulling (Y/n) with her until her daughter fell to the floor. The binder crashed into her chest before slumping to the floor beside her as a groan escaped her lips, each bone crashing to the wooden floorboards causing shockwaves to rocket through her. Shaking her head to try and stop the sudden dizziness, (Y/n) managed to make out her mother shouting at Ben, clearly knowing who he was but not wanting him here.

She tried to tell him that (Y/n) was fifteen in a feeble attempt to shock him into leaving but he simply scoffed. Hitting her hands off his arm when she tried uselessly to get him out of the door again. Leaning over, Ben quickly slipped his arms around (Y/n)'s frame and hoisted her to her feet as she scrambled to grab the binder. Everything happening in a split second as Ben pushed her behind him, holding his arm out to keep her out of the firing line of her mother as he backed them both out the door very quickly.

"Get in the car." He whispered the words sternly in her ear, his hand pressing to her lower back as he nudged her to hurry because he could feel her mother trying to grab his shirt to stop him.

When both of them were in the car Ben wasted no time hitting the lock button on the dash, his frame jumping at Katie who was hitting the door and window so harshly he wouldn't be surprised if she put her fist through the glass. (Y/n) curled up in her seat, pulling her knees up to her stomach as she clasped the binder very tightly to her chest. Tears burnt into her features like droplets of acid her she tried to stop her chest from quivering but it was useless. She couldn't help but let out small sobs or her body shaking.

Neither of them said anything to one another on the short drive down to Ben's house. When Ben pulled up in the drive, he turned to look at (Y/n) as she was leaning her head against the window and he thought she was going to start rocking back and forth at any moment.

"Baby... talk to me." When Ben gingerly reached out to take her hand she didn't pull away. (Y/n) slowly turned her head to look at Ben, her eyes glassy and dull as tears were distorting her vision.

"S-she lied about everything." Letting go of his hand, (Y/n) set the binder on his lap. Watching as he narrowed his eyes in confusion before he started to look through the rather large binder that was full to the brim with medical notes and papers and signed documents. "I'm not allergic to sugar, I d-didn't need my salivary glands out... my vision is fine, she gave me meds for my stomach but I was fine. I haven't had an epileptic fit in years b-but she gave me the meds and they ruined some of my teeth."

Ben felt the urge to be sick as he looked through each document in the file. It showed how many times Katie had taken (Y/n) to the hospital and how every time, the doctors believed her when she said something was wrong with (Y/n). They didn't do many tests to prove this, they just accepted and did whatever treatment or gave whatever meds Katie wanted.

Closing the binder without looking all the way through the files which would take hours, Ben turned so he was better facing (Y/n). He swiped his thumb over her cheek, gently brushing away some of the tears.

"She can't lie to you anymore sweetheart. You're staying with me, she can't hurt you anymore." Ben continued to brush away the tears as he pressed his lips to hers. He wouldn't let her mother abuse her or hurt her anymore, as long as she stayed with him he would do everything he could to make sure she would be alright.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben x reader #imagine #borhap #mother dearest

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nathanism · 4 years

Photo

BASICS

name & nicknames: nathan brookes ;; nate. age & dob: thirty seven ;; december 22, 1983. gender & pronouns: cismale ;; he/him. hometown: pilot point, texas. time in edens town: nathan just moved there, arriving around a few days ago. district: ashford. occupation: he’s applied at the library, hopes to get a spot in there. family: aleksander & cassandra brookes. secret: he had an affair in college.

( @edtintros )

PAST.

Nathan grew up in Texas, on a ranch in a little town north of Dallas. His childhood was one of normalcy. His parents were always supportive, always loving and he had never felt out of place with his own family. Although, he hadn’t the love of horses as they did or the ranch life, they still loved him and wanted him to achieve his dreams all the same. He worked hard on the ranch, and always was around when his family needed a helping hand but he had no prospect of ever taking over their family ranch, or continuing to work there throughout his life. This was not news, or surprising to anyone. The boy had dreams of going to college, getting a degree, becoming a well known writer, perhaps becoming an English professor or opening up his own bookstore somewhere. He had always been imaginative throughout his childhood, and usually had many drawings and short stories taped along his bedroom.

He excelled through school, always focusing his time on studying and writing. Nathan always had his nose in a book, trying to learn all that he could. He was a quiet kid in school, never exactly stood out by his personality but always with his appearance. He did have an active social life, thanks to his older brother. Nathan had never been one to really shy away from people, anyway – he was just never a initiator like Andy. Although, he ended up sleeping around a lot, never having any fulfilling relationships as he didn’t care to fall in love after watching Andy’s love life crumble through his fingers. He had come to not believe in such a thing, perhaps, he was even afraid of it. Never letting anyone steal his heart, always keeping it caged, he would never allow anyone to hold it. He didn’t want to end up hurt and heartbroken, he was afraid of feeling such things. Besides, his friends have joked that Nathan’s always been controlled more by his dick then his head and heart.

Nathan did have that tall, dark and handsome appeal that attracted a few girls throughout his schooling experience, but most of them weren’t all too interesting to him. There was only one in particular that caught his eye. At first, it seemed as if both of their feelings for each other were shallow. They both had gone after each other, mostly based off of appearances. They had never fallen in love with each other but they were both arm candy to one another, and enjoyed showing each other off. Although, their personalities seemed to be quite the opposite. She was this preppy, outgoing, loud, cheery, bright-eyed girl and he was just the nerdy bookworm who knew way too many facts about everything, and thought with his dick too much. With that, their relationship through high school was quite rocky and dramatic. They often were fighting, involved in some drama or another, or cheating on each other. Of course, they hadn’t ever made anything official until senior year but they still managed to have a tumultuous relationship that everyone knew about. Everyone joked that they’d never make it past high school, that their relationship was never that deep and wouldn’t stand the test of time and growth into adulthood. Surely, they’d ditch each other before graduation.

Except, they ended up showing those people wrong, at least, if only for awhile. They stayed together through graduation and college. Mina hadn’t any idea what she wanted to do with the future, and Nathan had decided to attend a college out in Dallas. Somewhere he could stay close to family, but be able to go explore the big city while in his 20s, too. He suggested to Mina that she could come, if she so pleased and had nothing better to do. They had spent quite some time together throughout their senior year, becoming closer and getting to know one another past the surface level. He sort of wanted her to come, but never expected anything of her. He enjoyed her company now, although, he was still not in love and he thought the same with her. Well, with nothing else to do, Mina had smiled brightly at him and agreed to move with him to Dallas. They both got jobs and worked hard while Nathan was pursuing an English degree. He had decided he wanted to become an English professor later in life, while writing on the side until he became a fully acknowledged author. During their stay in Dallas, they decided to just get married -- and so they did.

It seemed the two of them had grown out of their high school schemes. They didn’t fight much anymore, spent most of their time together and took care of one another. They had grown into adulthood, so everyone had thought. Nathan had thought so too, but the moment he caught himself falling in love with Mina – he panicked, and tried to shut it all down. He started to distance himself from Mina, more. Always busy with school, always busy with work, something or another. It was during this time that Nathan ended up having an affair with another woman he met during one of his English classes. She had such a broad vocabulary, and loved all the same literature as him. Not only that, but she was enjoyable to look at and he ended up lusting after her. It could help him get Mina off his mind, to keep the lock around his heart. It wasn’t long before a group of students all decided to go out and get wasted after completing their finals and he tumbled into bed with this woman. It was something he didn’t immediately regret, and continued seeing her and sleeping with her for a few months afterward. Mina had never found out, and eventually Nathan ended the affair when he found out Mina was pregnant. He ended up regretted, filled with guilt with what he did as his relationship with Mina had actually deepened and their bond was quite strong. Still, he never told her. He thought he’d find the perfect time, but it never came.

They moved back to their hometown once Nathan graduated, and had hopes of raising their daughter there. Life went on, and things were pretty easy going. Nathan took a job as a teacher at the local high school, where he loved every second of it. He took care of his wife and daughter, somehow, even on a teacher’s salary. Nathan had come to really want to take care of his family, so that they didn’t have to work as hard. He even got two jobs, just to make sure that Mina didn’t have to go out and get some part time job that she’d probably end up dreading and hating. He took care of them, and life was good, it was happy. He tried all he could to make up for the affair, being as nice to Mina as she deserved. He’d come to realize that she was special, that perhaps, it wasn’t so wrong to be in love with her and he just needed to come clean about everything and his feelings. He shouldn’t be so scared of being in love with his wife, for Christ’s sake. He had hoped to tell her, after their vacation in Disneyland. He was going to sit down with her, face his fears, and tell her the truth like she deserved. She deserved everything, and Nathan felt so bad that he was just now realizing all of this at thirty four years old.

They went on one vacation, a little birthday present for their daughter after just turning ten. She had wanted to go to Disneyland, so they had been saving up for it. The little family enjoyed their time, and Nathan was thrilled to see the never ending smile on his little girl’s face. They spent the whole vacation in each other’s arms with big grins on their faces. During their last day, they got separated in a crowd and Nathan had called their names and looked for hours for them but never did. He contacted the police, there was an investigation but nothing ever turned up. They simply disappeared and Nathan never saw them again after that. It was something that shook the Brookes family, they all lost part of their family and will never know what became of them.

He became quite depressed, losing his job and his apartment and having to move back into his childhood bedroom. Nathan didn’t know what to do, and felt as if his wife and daughter might still be out there but he had no idea. He never got to tell his wife what she deserved to hear, never got to tell her that he had fallen in love, that he was an idiot, that he wanted to be whatever she needed. The guilt ate him alive, the heartbreak too, the dread of not knowing what happened to his wife and child. He had no answers, and there never were going to be any. The police had said they were probably dead by now. He didn’t do anything for two years, wallowing in depression and just barely being able to get out of bed. His parents worried, he was always on this cusp of death, teetering on a cliff.

PRESENT/FUTURE

His sister, Cassandra, got into an accident around the time that his family disappeared, something that he had overlooked at the time. He had been stuck in his own head, incredibly depressed and broken. It was only during a phone call when she was updating him about her condition two years later, did he finally shake himself awake again. Remembering his sister’s accident, how quickly someone can just disappear from your life, it all spooked him. He was so thankful she had made it, and so he felt as if he needed to move out to Eden to make sure she stayed okay. Especially when he heard that Alex was going to be moving out there too, he had decided to pack his belongings and head there too. He wanted to keep an eye on the family that he had left, to make sure that they didn’t slip through his fingers like his wife and daughter. He needed to feel as if he had any control on his life, so he moved out to the town they lived in.

He has moved in with Alex, for the time being. He doesn’t plan on staying, and is currently looking for his own apartment. He’s still quite depressed about everything, and has been looking into seeing a therapist and getting some type of help. He thinks he could try to rebuild his life, but he feels as if he’s too old and too bitter to ever have some sort of normal life again. He’s still incredibly guilt-ridden and the cage around his heart has only tightened. He had let himself fall in love, and terrible things happened. He keeps going for his siblings, to see their achievements and to be there for them when they need him. It feels like all he can do now, as he feels so lost in life. Everything slipped through his fingers, and now he’s trying to pick up any pieces although it hurts.

He wants to get better, he wants to repent, he wants to change.

OTHER/INSPIRATION

aesthetics: a warm cup of coffee on a rainy morning, long car drives with the windows down, boots that are worn and dirty, flannels, sweaters, disorganized bookshelves, dirt paths that lead to nowhere in particular, old pianos that play off tune, written letters never sent.

hogwarts house: ravenclaw.

personality type: isfp.

He has always been the closest with his older brother Andrei, as they are closer in age. They were only one year apart, and Nathan followed him around everywhere. They were quite the duo throughout high school, the Brookes boys. Nathan hasn’t seen him in a few years, really misses him, wishes he could just talk to him about everything and hug his brother again.

Nathan is actually kind of a fuck boy™. He’s gonna try to fuck his feelings away!

His whole wife and child disappearing is a big mystery. He sort of believes they are out there somewhere, perhaps waiting for him to find them. He doesn’t want to really believe they are dead, yet he has no idea or any leads. They simply vanished. He has many theories, one that has started to haunt him is that Mina found out about his affair and took his daughter and left.

He was a big cheater in high school, the complete opposite of his brother, Alex. It was quite known, but the older he got people assumed he had grown up. He has never told his family about his affair, though but he feels as if the guilt is eating alive at him and he’s so close to breaking. He’s afraid if he ever talks about any of it, that his siblings will hate him.

i’m so sorry this was so long and such an info dump! i’m open to any connections and potential plots for this hot garbage man. my dms are always open!!

#edtintro #( biography ;; nathan brookes )

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screensirenfic · 5 years

Text

Black Leather - Chapter 13

Warnings: Aftermath of Sexual Assualt

Sleep had been a bitch all night; which means to say that it’d run away from me nipping and screaming whilst the shadow of Billy had loomed over me all night like a malevolent spectre.

If I had to put a number on it; I’d say I slept maybe four hours, and that was including dad’s untimely interruption, because of course; he had to piss off the only person capable of opening the door from the comfort of her room.

That; and the fact that he was so damn paranoid that we had to have a minimum of three locks on the door at all times, meant that I had to go let him in.

He’d been surprised; of course. Expected me to still be partying it up at Tina’s, three sheets to the wind and with no intention of returning home anytime soon.

Proves how much attention he paid to my drinking habits; if he knew anything about me, he would’ve guessed that Tina’s annual Halloween bash was the last place I’d want to be spending my weekend.

Even with his relentless stream of questions following me back to my room; I had no intention to answer any of them. If he’d just kept his nose out and let me stay home; none of this would’ve happened.

But no; he had to play tough father for one night and expect me to ‘act like a man’, despite his near constant insistence that I was still his little girl.

Hypocrisy never was a good disciplinary tactic, and dad’s idea of parenting more often than not aligned with his training of rookie cops.

Tough love did not sum it up, and I often had to remind him I was his daughter and not a suspect to be interrogated.

If he could just listen to me just once; than maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess with Billy, maybe he wouldn’t have...

No. I couldn’t think of that again; even after I’d sobbed myself to sleep, feeling so much like a stupid little girl that for the first time in nearly ten years; I found myself wanting my mom.

I hadn’t thought about her properly in years; both me and dad actively avoided it to be honest. Too many sour memories; too many late night arguments filled with words we’d both regret.

I missed her; of course, but I’d accepted that she was gone long ago; just like I had with Sara.

Dad had found that harder; his dreams too easily troubled by the things he wished he had said, things he had wished he had done.

I slept easier; the ignorance of my relative youth at the time, a better shield against regret.

Still; there was times in my life that I longed for my mother’s love.

For the sound words of advice and the gentle understanding that was so important between mother and daughter in her blossoming teenage years.

Like your first dance, when she’d take you to pick your dress and braid your hair; telling you you looked so pretty, just like a princess.

My dad bought me a dress; of course, left me traipsing through half of the strip mall to find the right one. But I’d struggled with my hair alone, eventually leaving it in its usual messy curls, because dad said I looked like a proper punk rocker.

I missed her when I first went to the movies with Steve; faking smiles whilst I was quietly terrified, because something had changed between us, and it wasn’t just the six inches he’d managed to grow over the summer whilst he was away at camp.

Dad was terrible with feelings; even worse when they involved boys, so he’d been no help there.

I’d missed just being able to talk to her; to gush about stupid teenage crushes on a boy who’d never be more than my best friend, who still called me beautiful when I’d thrown up in the popcorn bucket, blaming it on menstrual cramps.

I’d missed her more than anything last night, sobbing silently into my pillow, because I was terrified that I might wake my dad up; terrified that he might ask what’s wrong, and I’d have to tell him. I’d have to come clean about the shame that hung over me like a dark cloud; that dripped down my thighs in a guilty shimmer, baring itself for the world to see.

I’d needed her then; the cold comfort of her stroking my hair and telling me it’s gonna be okay, even if we both know it’s not, because she understood.

She understood what it was like to be a girl in this world.

To have all your expectations and worth measured up by what you could fit between your legs.

I’d missed my mom, but she wasn’t coming back, no matter how much I pined for her.

The sunlight seemed especially harsh as it seeped in through the holes of my fraying drapes; my mind reacting as if it had a hangover, despite me having not touched more than a couple of drinks last night.

Part of my mind theorised that my drink might’ve been spiked. At least that would’ve given me a scapegoat for what happened with Billy; and damnit, I was thinking about him again.

I thought that this was meant to be easier in the sober light of day, but apparently I had been wrong about that too.

A large part of me was tempted just to turn over and spend the day in bed, but that would’ve aroused too much of dad’s suspicion and no doubt he’d find out the truth; and the truth was something I was determined to never see the light of day.

So instead I hauled myself out of bed, ever thankful that the ache between my legs had faded, even if my bruises hadn’t.

Those bad boys were looking particularly impressive today, blending into a myriad of violets and indigos that was sure to rival even the most battered of mugging victims.

It was gonna take a hell of a lot of concealer to cover those suckers up, and I wasn’t quite sure I had the patience, nor the supplies to do it.

I suppose I could always wear a sweater, though that would be ridiculously out of character for me and would definitely arouse my dad’s suspicion more than if I’d walked out of my room with a sign around my neck that said “GUILTY”.

So I elected to plead the fifth to all summons from my self decided prison cell and took the coward’s way out, hiding out in my room until I was risking yet another tardiness slip from Ms McKinley.

I could hear yelling outside my room; El and dad were arguing again, a sound that was strangely reminiscent of myself at her age.

It wasn’t the kid’s fault. She was going stir crazy, being locked up like a dog in a cage; it only made sense that she’d lash out. He couldn’t keep her prisoner here; no matter how much he feared for her safety in the outside world.

She was a kid; for Christ’s sake, not a pet.

She needed to go outside and feel the sun on her face, spend some time with some kids her own age, instead of hiding in the dark watching cartoon reruns till all hours of the night.

But still, try telling my dad that. He wouldn’t hear it. Being seen outside was an unnecessary risk, and taking risks were stupid; “and we are not stupid.”

Give me a fucking break.

A door slammed, and I knew that Eleven had locked herself in her room, judging by the fact my dad hadn’t raced out of the house like a filly in the Kentucky Derby.

Dad was still yelling, but that was to be expected. He hardly ever relented on having the last word; too goddamn stubborn to let it be otherwise.

I emerged from my room, hoping that he’d be so busy with the current focus of his ire that I’d be able to slip out unseen. Good fucking plan that was.

“Oh; look who decided to show her face now!” My dad spat with all the cold spite of a washed up forty year old with two rebellious teenagers.

I cut him some slack and ignored him, knowing this was one grenade he really didn’t wanna pull the pin out of.

Instead I swept over to the kitchen table, snatching my jacket off the chair in a clear display that I was not in the mood for his shit today.

“So you’re brooding too?” He queried; clearly not getting the message that he was walking on thin ice, and my calm demeanour was really beginning to crack under the poking of his jibes.

I snatched my keys up off the tabletop, ignoring him more for his sake than mine, because if I blew; I was gonna go full on Armageddon on this bitch.

“It’s so nice to be surrounded by such lovely teenagers...” He spat, but I really didn’t need to stand around here and listen to his bitching.

He thought dealing with a barely pubescent kid was hard; he should try dealing with a hormonal meathead twice his size who wouldn’t take no as an answer.

So I stormed out of the house, slamming the door in his face in what must’ve been becoming a familiar experience for him, before making my way over to my bike.

I might not be able to outrun my problems, but when I knew I could hit 120 on my Triumph; I sure as hell was gonna try.

———————————————————-

I arrived at school ten minutes earlier than expected, but that was probably due to the three red lights I’d ran on the way over.

I mean; it’s not like I was gonna get arrested. I was the chief’s daughter for Christ’s sake; the most I’d get is a ticket.

My dad would chew me out about it, but I really didn’t care; if he wanted to talk to me about responsibility, he should’ve considered that before he’d forgotten about the thirteen year old waiting alone in our cabin on Halloween whilst he played Magnum half the night.

I’d pulled up in the parking lot, yanking my helmet off and tossing it onto the back of my bike, before marching into school like I was running drills because I was still steaming over how he acted this morning.

The fucking nerve to have a go at me, when he was the one continuously neglecting his parental responsibilities.

I know it wasn’t socially acceptable to hit your dad, but I swear to God...

“Whore...” Sneered a voice, and at first I thought I was hearing things, because someone sure as hell wasn’t saying that to me.

I ignored it, continuing striding through the halls as I made a beeline for my locker.

“Like a fucking hooker...” Another murmur cut through the bustle of the hallway chatter, and this time I knew I wasn’t imagining it.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of Alex Kaplinsky and one of his basketball buds snickering as they walked down the hall, grins and eyes flickering in my direction.

Since when did these dicks grow balls?

Seems like everyone had heard about my eventful night at Tina’s, even the kids who hadn’t been there judging by the nasally snorts coming from Nora Pierson and the rest of the debate team.

And of course, as it was whenever someone who garnered even the slightest amount of respect in this school did something risqué; it was the hot topic of the hour, whispers and giggles following me through the halls.

I tried to ignore it; I really did.

Why should I give a flying fuck what the brain dead populous of Hawkins High thought about my sex life?

It’s not like they didn’t do it anyway; regurgitating wild rumours varying from me to being a downright prude, to me fucking half the cheerleading team, because of course; when a girl says she’d rather gag herself with a spoon than suck you off, she’s gotta be batting for the other team.

The most recent and popular spin of the rumour mill this month would’ve been a recycled story that I was Harrington’s bit on the side for when he got bored of Nancy; something that had been circulating on and off for about three years whenever everyone decided the tantalising thought of the lesbian virgin seemed too far fetched.

That all heated up with the arrival of Billy; creating the teen movie love triangle I never wanted.

Everyone secretly pinned their bets on their favourite, though Billy clearly was the front runner; all testosterone and muscle, and now with a pair of my ruined panties in his belt, Steve really was lagging behind.

I held my head high as I reached the final stretch to my locker; the place I knew I’d come across the majority of first hand witnesses from the party.

“Such a slut...” Hissed a smirking Tina to an equally venomous Ally; both of them staring at me and gossiping like I’d just decided to become a prostitute.

Gone was Tina’s fake smiles; no longer having to commit to the act of gracious host, returning to her former role of cheerleading captain and Hawkins High’s resident bitch.

They were just bitter; angry that with all their skimpy spandex and neon eyeshadow, Billy had still passed over them like they were yesterday’s cafeteria lunch.

Well; fuck ‘em both.

I never cared about the thoughts of Tina or Aly; they both despised me anyway. Forcing fake smiles in front of Steve; only to talk shit about me later.

Fuck Tina and Ally, and fuck anyone else who thought they could judge me.

I’d almost reached my locker; I could see Steve’s ridiculous hair rising above the crowd at the opposite end of the hallway, a clear signifier that my walk of shame was almost over.

“Hey Lola. Got time for another dance partner?”Chirped the voice of Tommy H, and normally I’d be seconds away from gaining myself a collection of molars, but instead I nearly jumped out of my skin, because where the vultures circle; the lions can never be far off.

But lucky or unlucky; I couldn’t decide, it was just Carol and Tommy cackling like the perfect pair of hyenas. I didn’t even say anything in response; fucking weak.

What the fuck was wrong with me? Since when could I be snickered into submission by Tommy H?

Well; since his mullet headed idol decided to make a sideshow of me, that’s when.

Jesus; when would this day be over?

I’d only been in school for less than ten minutes and already I was torn between leaving and never coming back, and burning the place down, or some strange combination of the both.

If I saw Billy Hargrove today; I’m not sure I’d be able to stop myself from knocking him into next week! The slimy fucking bastard!

But I had to hold back; from slaughtering Billy and everyone else who dared snicker at me in the hallways, because I could see Steve clearly now; tall lanky form peering into his locker as if the whole world went straight over his head.

I strode up to my locker and immediately set to work on opening it; happy to let Steve remain in whatever little fantasy filled that pretty head of his. He didn’t need my venom; he’d done enough for me.

“Hopper...” He purred, and without even looking up from my locker, I could sense the smirk on his face; our normal playful banter routine resuming with clockwork regularity.

“Steve; I really don’t have time for this today.” I sighed impatiently; both irritated by his easygoing nature, yet strangely jealous that he could just assume normality with such little effort.

Perhaps it’s true what they say; ignorance is bliss, and judging by the carefree smile on his face, Steve was still completely oblivious to today’s rumour mill.

That, or he’d chosen complete denial and ignored the whole thing entirely; though Steve always seemed too much of a hothead for that.

“Lo; are you alright?” Steve asked, concern dripping from his tone as he looked at me with those big doe eyes.

But of course I wasn’t damn alright. I was wrongfully crowned the new reigning slut of Hawkins High, with a fabricated body count rising into the early twenties; all thanks to Billy Hargrove and my inability to handle even a smidgeon of alcohol.

But of course; I couldn’t tell Steve that.

Not when I risked him getting a quick fire concussion at the hands of my least favourite bad boy.

So instead I slammed my locker door; managing to growl a thoroughly unconvincing “just peachy...” through gritted teeth.

Peachy or not; my locker really didn’t fucking care, refusing to shut itself despite me slamming it with all the force of the five hundred backhand slaps Billy and his cohorts had long been overdue.

“Here, Lo; let me help with that...” Steve offered, reaching across with all the casual chivalry I really didn’t need right now.

What I needed was a twenty pound mallet and for Billy Hargrove to keep his head still for a while, but considering that was as likely as the virgin lesbian rumours coming true; I had to settle with taking my anger out on my locker door.

“I’ve got it.” I insisted, slamming the door with even more force this time; so hard that I’m pretty sure it’d leave a dent. It stayed shut this time.

I then turned to make my way to first period algebra, because I knew if I spent another minute with Steve, I’d start taking my anger out on him; and he really didn’t deserve that.

“Wow! Do think she’s pregnant?!” Snickered Ally to Tina as I passed; her complete obliviousness to anything except fashion magazines astounding me more than ever.

I shot her a set of daggers, because rumours or not; I still had some amount of respect in this school, and damnit; if I wouldn’t use some of that to remind her where to get off.

Ally and Tina both flinched, and although I’d preferred that they scattered like cockroaches in the sunlight; that would have to do.

Fuck this fucking school, fuck Tina and Aly, fuck Tommy H and Carol; but most of all, Fuck Billy Hargrove!

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randomnessunicorn-imagine · 5 years

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An imagine where there's a new girl on the block and she's sitting on her balcony looking up some schools to attend and Chat wants to talk to her, in a friendly way no romance, and convinces her to go to his school? I just saw that you wanted an ask about ML and decided to since I love the show.

{ Yes, finally someoneasks for Miraculous Ladybug, yey! }

🐈 Adrien Agreste / Cat Noir 🐈

You have always dreamtto become a famous fashion designer, you just love art and the fashion world.You are a very talented drawer and tailor. You often create your own clothes andyou even ask to your friends if they can be your models. Sometimes, youimprovise fashion shows in your house just to have fun with them.

Unluckily, you know itis intended to be just a dream because your parents have a different plan foryou. They think your dream is stupid, that this carrier makes no sense and itwon’t bring you anywhere. They want you to become a doctor or something moreimportant –in their opinion-.

Of course, you are sadbecause they don’t even try to understand your point of view and they keepmaking fun on your dreams thinking they can decide for your life. It’s unfairand you just look outside of your window, hoping to be somewhere else. You wantto be like the birds, free to go wherever you want and do what you want withoutbeing trapped in a cage.

Today you have evenfought with your mother because she has found you drawing a sketch of a dressyou are doing for your friend’s birthday. Then you decided to lock yourself inyour room, alone with your sadness.

We know that negativefeelings are welcome in this city and some evil entity is just waiting forthese broken hearts to reveal themselves and give up to the forces of evil.

Hawk Moth has alreadysent his akuma to black your heart but, before the malefic butterfly couldreach your heart, another person has noticed your cries. A certain cat wascoming your way and he just can’t ignore a lady in tears. He is a gentleman andso he comes to rescue you.

Suddenly, yournegative emotions disappear and the only feeling you feel is surprise. His smileis so gentle and radiant that you forget about your sorrow and the evilbutterfly changes his target.

Cat Noir asks you what’sgoing on and why you are crying. You say that you are not crying.

He smiles and says thatyou would not cry on the window if you did not want somebody to notice you andhe can see your red eyes, they are the eyes of a person who have cried. No way,you cannot lie to him, he only wants to see your eyes smiling.

Cat Noir is so niceand so you tell him the truth, you confess to him that you have argued withyour mother once again because she is just unable to understand or even try tounderstand. She ignores your ideas, your dreams and opinions, sometimes shetreats you as if you were a doll and not a person with feelings and thoughts. Itmakes you frustrated, there is no way you and she can get along.

Your words make CatNoir pondering and this situation is so familiar, he sees himself in you. Howmany times he has argued with his stubborn father and even now it’s hard forCat Noir/Adrien to understand him.

He asks you why youand your mother have discussed and you explain to him that she wants to decidethe school you are going to frequent. Your dream is to become a fashiondesigner but she thinks it’s a useless and stupid job, she is a doctor and soshe wants you to become a doctor like her but it’s not what you want.

Cat Noir is curious tosee your sketches and so you show him your projects and even the dress you weredoing for your friend. He is so impressed and he as Adrian would even wear oneof your creations in one of his photo shots.

He tells you that youshould show your projects to the Principal of the Françoise Dupont High Schooland Cat Noir is sure you will have success because you are so talented and it’sa waste of talent if you don’t go there.

You don’t know if youhave some chance but you have to try and even if your mother would sayotherwise, you have to be stubborn and believe in your dreams. Someday, shewill understand –she has no other choice than understand, if she does not wantto lose her daughter’s affection-.

Somehow, his wordsgive you a new determination and you really needed a pep talk and you havereceived it by a super hero, it’s not something that happens every day.

After this, Cat Noirreceives a call from Ladybug and it seems a super villain is come to ruin theday –it must be the Akuma who’s run away before, the one who had to take youbut then Cat Noir cheered you up-.

He has to go but youwill keep this moment in your heart and who knows, maybe one day you will meethim again but under the guise of Adrien.

#ask #hellaintsobadafterall #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug headcanons #miraculous ladybug imagines #miraculous ladybug scenarios #tales of ladybug and cat noir #chat noir #cat noir #adrien agreste #x reader

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poisonwonders · 5 years

Text

POISON IVY.

pamela lillian isley. twenty six.

biochemist / botanist / toxicologist. MOTHER NATURE.

i am not ruined. i am ruination.

okay so ------- ivy is mostly based on the PAMELA ISLEY we encounter in DC’s prime earth universe, but some influences are also drawn from new earth and DC rebirth. a lot is also just AU / headcanons.

BASICS: ivy is 26, currently working at a lab that works on researching different toxins & poisons. she did not die during the whole thanos ordeal.

obviously no one has to read all this because i got carried away as per usual ! i’ve labeled each section if there is something in particular u want to know ! c:

BACKGROUND.

domestic abuse cw, child abuse cw, parental death cw, murder cw:/

she grew up incredibly sheltered, hidden away from sight. her father locked her away and used threats and fear to force her to stay inside. he also made her believe that if she went outside, into the sun, she would burn. pamela wholeheartedly believed this, because she did have a rare skin condition that made her sensitive to sunlight.

so her mother home schooled her, and tried to protect her the best she could. it was never enough, for either of them.

ivy’s mother emptied her heart of sorrows and poured all her energy into her garden. as a result, it was a beautiful place, filled with carefully tended flowers from all over the world and meticulously trimmed fruit trees and bushes. pamela could see it from her window, and she spent most of her days looking through the blinds and daydreaming about what life outside might be like. she didn’t notice that her mother’s garden grew little by little, every time her father was sorry for yet another unforgivable, unspeakable thing that he had done. but how was pamela to know that her mother’s pain was measured in flowers? that the reason her father showered ( no, drowned ), her mother in the most expensive bouquets, flower arrangements and exotic plants - was to keep her quiet? buy her forgiveness.

every now and then when her father was away for work, her mother would let pamela out into the garden, just as dusk was setting. she’d bask in the day’s last ray of sunshine, taking in the feeling of warmth across her face, stinging her skin ever so lightly. she wouldn’t dare be out there for long. her fear of her father, combined with her fear of her skin igniting, made her careful.

but no matter how careful she and her mother were, disaster eventually struck when ivy was eleven. her father came home from a work trip early ------ and saw his ‘beloved’ daughter outside, flowers in her hair, pale cheeks rosy with laughter. that night, her mother was sent to the ER. she came home the next day, her skin stained black and blue. her mother pretended like nothing had happened, and instead immediately went out to her garden. it had grown, over night. slowly, but certainly, ivy began to see a pattern form. when her mother was trying to hide another bruise, the garden expanded, and a new vase of beautiful flowers stood on the kitchen table. she may have been young, but pamela finally understood that flowers could be used to manipulate, to destroy, to conquer.

but her mother didn’t stop - she refused to let her daughter be cooped up like a beautiful bird in a cage. so she continued to bring a young and frightened pamela outside. she spoke to her in a low voice, about how flowers bound this world together, how they were linked to its very core. she spun tales of girls just like pamela, with flowers in their hair, dancing underneath the starlight, transforming into fairies and witches and elves. she explained that her garden always listened, and if you spoke to flowers, and you kept very very quiet, they’d answer. so pamela was bewitched, and her daydreams of the magical garden continued. she’d sit perched in her bedroom window, her gaze fixed on the roses below, watching them sway in the wind.

daydream turned into yet another nightmare when she was twelve. she saw it all happen, from her window. she saw how her father dragged out a lifeless body, and began to dig up the roses that pamela & her mom loved so much. she saw how careless he was, how flowers were thrown aside, how he barely looked at his wife before tossing her into a hole beneath the garden that she had poured her soul into. now she became part of it.

it took a few weeks of ‘your mother has gone to live with her sister, who is very ill’, before the police came knocking. they took her father away, and a few months later, he was sentenced to a life term in prison.

pamela’s aunt moved into her house and started taking care of pamela instead, and pamela’s life took a drastic change for the better. she was now allowed to go outside, received treatment for her skin condition, and was enrolled in a private school. all of ivy’s free time went to her mother’s garden. on some level, she thought that through her flowers, she’d be able to keep her mother alive.

end of cw.

COLLEGE YEARS / BECOMING POISON IVY.

teacher / student relationship cw, human experiments / testing cw, abuse cw, ptsd cw.

ivy enrolled in college with a double major - chemistry and botany. she excelled in her course and soon became one of her chemistry teachers’ favorite. they embarked on an erratic relationship, their power balance completely skewed, with a naive pamela completely lost in love, thinking she had met the one. she was willing to do anything to maintain that feeling. so when he asked her to steal some seeds from another lab? there was no way that she would say no. and so it continued - he asked her to steal, from museums, from labs, from botanical gardens.

eventually, he found what he was looking for, and her perfect dream turned into yet another nightmare. he locked her up and experimented on her, injected her with every biochemical poison imaginable, a little at a time. seeing how her body reacted, how she slowly became immune to his tests. how almost succumbing to their effect drove her a little bit mad. what he didn’t count on was that pamela’s body would take to more than the poison [ continued in power section ].

after pamela broke free of his prison, she killed him. no remorse. just anger.

she dropped out of college. accidentally killed her new boyfriend with a kiss, and decided to go on the run.

at first, she had some trouble controlling her powers. the first few months, she didn’t dare touch anyone. too afraid that her touch would be toxic, deadly, disastrous. but a new rage had been ignited within her, and it was a rage that would soon become everything she was afraid of.

what was really nice though was that the sun now made her stronger, instead of weakening her!!! cool cool cool

she had been controlled by men many times by now - with disastrous consequences. people wanted to make her feel like she had been ruined, that she was now rotten. pamela refused to be anything other than their ruination in return. she wanted to prove to herself that she was now in control, that she had the power over men.

suffers PTSD after everything she has been through. it sucks

so maybe she went on a murder spree or two, while on the run. what about it?

also became very involved in environmental activist groups!!! often went to protests and was heavily involved with several pro-environment groups and their leaderships.

eventually.... started taking things waaaaaay across the line of what could be considered decent. became involved with underground groups, and turned to crime as the only answer to get the justice that she thought that she, along with mother nature, deserved.

end of cw.

ASYLUM YEARS / ‘MOVING ON’.

was eventually caught while trying to take control of los angeles, by threatening to release lethal fungus into the town’s water supply, and equally as lethal spores into the air. she wanted them to meet her environmental demands. they refused, and she was eventually captured.

after that, she was deemed insane, and was sent to an asylum.

eventually escaped, and returned to her ways of crime.

was caught again, and sent back to serve a year within the asylum’s wall.

decided to be smarter about it, and pretended that she was changed by her stay in the asylum.

she found a job in new york, at a local lab that researched biochemical toxins. it’s rumored that ivy has created poisons capable of wiping out half of the earth’s population. at that, she just laughs.

CURRENTLY / MOTIVATIONS.

ivy has managed to keep her job at the lab. possibly because the boss is a questionable figure, himself. mostly interested in money.

her motivation is to keep plants safe. she can feel every plant around her, and she can hear their pain. she communicates with them, and through them. they willfully do her bidding, and she can take control of any plant close enough to her. she is mother earth’s protector, first and foremost. any harm to her also hurts ivy.

working closely with both underground environmental groups and larger, public groups. her motivations never change. neither does her anger, or her ambition.

she will do ANYTHING to get what she wants.

pretty girls cloud her morals even further, we love a chaotic bi

PERSONALITY / CHARACTER TIDBITS.

murder cw.

that girl that’s always fucking running in high heels

loose morals? yeah

has her own very specific agenda and follows it religiously!

mood swings? yes. sweet like sugar one minute, sour like venom the next.

can be so cold!!!! literally doesn’t care 98% of the time if it isn’t related to plants or someone she loves.

she’s in a bad mood? probably would be best to hide.

might hate humanity, but she loves children. can be so maternal! will always protect kids and take them under her wing.

has a really nice aesthetic! wears a lot of dungarees, wooden shoes, flowery patterns and pastel colors.

uses her sexuality as a weapon.

so so so smart !!!!

kinda unstable, too?

lowkey into the idea of sisterhood. will have girls’ back.

used to be super naive, now she’s more cynical :c

thinks that humanity ain’t shit ( except for her gf, who is The Shit )

lowkey just wants to live on a deserted island with her gfs and her plants but she can’t do that yet because !!!! people !!!!! keep !!!! fucking with her plants. and ivy is also of the belief that someone’s gotta keep this world pure. so that’s what she’s about, really. purity. a peaceful world where plants are safe from harm. by any means necessary.

end of cw.

POWERS.

IMMUNITY:

ivy is completely immune to all toxins + poisons and can also use them as weapons through her skin and lips. the natural oils that her body produce are also laced with biochemical toxins, so her mere touch can be lethal, if she wants it to be. she can also conjure up toxins and manipulate plants into becoming toxic.

also possesses specialized toxins, such as truth serums & love potions.

MENTAL CONTROL OF PLANT LIFE:

ivy can control plants, completely and effortlessly. she can animate them to attack and ensnare her opponents. she can also create new plant hybrids and accelerate a plant’s growth and strength and size. if she has seeds with her, she can also grow new plants quickly.

ivy also has a very special relationship with plants, and treats them as her children and family members. they thus respond to her will and command.

she has also brought back formerly extinct plants to life !!!

she can also feel plants. what they’re feeling. she shares a deep telepathic bond with wildlife, and can communicate with all flowers, trees and other plants.

she can hear through plants! if she focuses, she can eavesdrop on people through plants. super useful, really.

hmmmmm plants also act as her spies, a lot!

DURABILITY & STRENGTH:

all that poison and it just made her stronger!!!! really though, it’s the sun that makes her strong!!!

anyways she’s more agile than the average human and less prone to injury.

#returningintro #✦ ° • ☆ ◣ ▽ ┊IVY • about. )#plot with me !!! ♥#also if u know where that quote is from we are instant bffs thank u

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seitjun · 6 years

Text

what you are; what you are not

title: what you are; what you are not

pairing: momo/jirou

rating/warnings: teen and up

summary:

Sometimes, love doesn't start off stable; instead, it grows in the between moments where there lies doubts and insecurities of all things but love, or at least not yet love, and it fights on a shakey battleground that stays precariously balanced on a pin. It is rocky and terrifying and unpredictable and it starts with themselves.

Kyouka and Yaoyorozu know this too well.

notes: this is my first ever bnha work, so hello to new ppl of this fandom! i'll be doing a series of these to do slight character/pair studies to get to know them more, and id love for pairing reccs to write abt! ill take all pairs + characters + anything!! its been up for awhile but i havent gotten around to posting it here until now. ty to @filthybnhatrash for betaing it for me!!

read on AO3 or below!

unsure (adj.) • [uhn - shur]

not feeling, showing, or done with confidence and certainty.

Kyouka knows she shouldn't be feeling like this, not when she steps back to gather her entire life together and thinks about it.

Born with a versatile enough quirk,

having secured a place in UA in the hero class, and surrounded with a family at home and another at school – Kyouka knows she should be grateful, that she should appreciate it. After all, not everyone is lucky enough to have all the things she’s had.

(Some people come to mind. Uraraka. Iida. Todoroki. Midoriya.)

But then she looks at the people that surround her, thinks about the same people she listed, and she recoils.

There’s tenacious Uraraka with her determination to constantly push herself for the sake of her parents more than herself; earnest Iida who has aspirations and the motivation to fulfill them because honoring his crippled brother is a need, not a want; talented Todoroki who’s already miles ahead of everyone despite the heavy weight of his childhood trauma that forces him to drag his feet; even plain Midoriya who is anything but, who readily proves to everyone over and over again that he isn't useless, that he never will be again.

And then there’s...Momo. Momo Yaoyorozu.

Momo who’s just as tenacious as Uraraka considering how much she’s fought for her spot in the class, as earnest as Iida is whenever it comes to any event that might help her improve, as talented as Todoroki is considering she got in through recommendations too, and as ready as Midoriya to prove that she deserves what's she gotten.

(Which Kyouka knows full well that Momo doesn't have to prove it. Kyouka’s seen the other fight with her during the attack at USJ; she knows that Momo deserves to be here. Why doesn't Momo seem to agree with her?)

Kyouka’s hands clench into fists as she winces inwardly, her shoulders hunching over to let her face be hidden by her hair. She stares down blankly at her desk with empty eyes, just trying to ignore the urge to cry at her realizations.

She shouldn't be acting this way; she’s training to be a hero, after all, and she can’t deny all the advantages she’s been given in her life. But how do you save someone else if you believe you’re not worthy enough to capable of saving them?

(Trick question. You don't.)

It takes almost all of Kyouka’s will not to sudden burst into an emotional version of her, the version that’s too sensitive for the path she’s going down, when Kaminari nudges her to get her attention. So she locks it up, jammimg the damn emotions bottle with a metaphorical cork, and pretends.

She doesn't want Kaminari to see her at her most vulnerable, and she’s silently grateful at how much of an idiot Kaminari acts with her; she puts on her show personality again, a soft smirk tugging at her lips as a playfully insulting remark rolls off her tongue easily. She lets herself get distracted by Kaminari feeling hurt and leaves her worries at her desk.

(She wants to be like her partner, Momo Yaoyorozu.)

When school is over, in the smallest part of her mind, Yaoyorozu feels unhappy.

She shouldn't be, but she can't help the feeling of being unhappy or disapproving of herself; she’s felt that same, annoying emotion ever since the attack at USJ. The same USJ attack that launches her into the spotlight with the entire rest of the class of 1-A.

The attack that starts her on a downhill ride, starting with an incapacitated Kaminari and collateral damage Jirou.

If she hadn’t been so naive, so useless – maybe she could have been better against the enemies they had face, could have prevented Kaminari from being used as a trading pawn or Jirou from being a possible victim of collateral damage. She might have protected Jirou with the electrical blanket, might have given them weapons when needed, but in the end – she stood there doing nothing.

Jirou had at least attempted. Even at risk of her life – Yaoyorozu’s own too, but Jirou with a higher risk – she had tried. She had done her best to distract, to feign a composure that takes steel will to fabricate when your entire body is so shaky and easy to crumble up; even when it ends up failing, Momo finds herself impressed by her despite never voicing it out loud.

At school, it’s easy enough to hide how she feels about herself; she’s class vice president after all, the daughter of a well-known hero family after all, the one of four people who got in through recommendations after all. She can't show her weakness, or else who will the class look up to if Iida or Eraserhead is incapacitated themselves?

A hero shouldn't doubt herself, Yaoyorozu reminds herself as impossible of a reminder it is. She can't be selfish, can’t let her own thoughts about her own self endanger others; that's not what heroes do.

Heroes instead don't let themselves be backed up into their own corner, don't let themselves be made a loser if preventable, don't let themselves do nothing when there is always something. Heroes are people like Iida Tenya or Eraserhead or Jirou Kyouka.

Not Momo Yaoyorozu.

Yaoyorozu is only interrupted from her downward spiral of thoughts when her family calls her down for dinner, and she forces herself to not feel so unhappy about herself. She leaves her thoughts behind her bedroom door.

(She wants to be like her partner, Jirou Kyouka.)

They become friends after that. Close friends.

They get roped into the flurry that is class 1-A, the entirety of the endurance trial that is the UA Sports Festival, and into the blossoming busyness of hero internships; but then there’s the lone shopping trips they take together with just each other, the one-on-one tutoring that the two of them always look forward to no matter the subject, and the blossoming busyness of their hearts running overtime with every moment spent with each other.

The two of them are happy about their friendship and how it is until it’s no longer a friendship all of a sudden, until it’s something both a bit more and a bit less.

“Sometimes I think that I don't belong here,” Momo confesses softly one night without prompt. Her voice is heavy with a weariness that reminds Kyouka of passing nights with hunched shoulders, empty eyes, and no rest; a tiredness that echoes itself in her ribcage with a loudness that Kyouka cringes from.

The entire situations catches Kyouka by surprise then fills her with concern.

They sit close together, enough to be dismissed as friends and enough to be regarded as more, on Momo’s bed; Kyouka’s is too messy for them. Kyouka sits against the wall that meets the side of the bed, legs folded together in a criss cross while Momo sits against the wall that’s behind the top of the bed, sitting on top of a pillow and letting her feet rest in Kyouka’s lap.

Kyouka doesn't need her quirk to imagine the rattling that fills up the hollowness of her chest with every shaky breath of her existence, doesn't need to read too much into the toe that pokes at her thigh in a nervous rhythm that Momo only reserved for moments of any panic.

“I know I got in through recommendations, and I have a good quirk compared to some people, but…” Momo doesn't look directly at Kyouka, she hasn't once at all during the entire time tonight. Maybe she had been preparing to tell Kyouka all this tonight from the very start. “What if it’s not enough? I already feel like I’m behind everyone, even though I keep trying my best to improve.

“I don't want to be not enough. I want to be a great hero with Midoriya-san, Iida-san, Uraraka-san, Todoroki-san, and everyone else in our class! I can't be a great hero if I takes all my chances, and I still don't improve! I...just want to make everyone proud of me.”

(It’s too familiar. It’s painful.)

Kyouka fiddles with her earphone jack as she admits, tone as soft as Momo’s and as raw as her confession, “I feel the same way.” She doesn't know what else to say because for as empathetic of a person she is, she’ll never have the same struggles as Momo and vice versa.

Kyouka is a girl born to a loving family who appreciates and supports her, their gaze expectant but not scrutinizing; Kyouka is the one who burdens herself with her own criticism that she takes to the deepest part of her heart.

Momo is a girl born to a loving family who appreciates her and support her, their gaze expectant but always scrutinizing; Momo is the one who burdens herself with taking criticisms from the people who she loves the most to the deepest part of her heart.

(But whether Kyouka’s in pain from watching Momo put herself through a version of what Kyouka’s gone through or from reliving her own – Kyouka doesn't know. She doesn't know if she wants to know.)

Kyouka bites at her lip, sentiments stuck in her dry throat and heart hammering in a hollow rib cage. She’s saved, though, by Momo herself – how fitting of a hero – with a soft smile from the girl.

“That…was a lot to digest probably. Sorry about that, Jirou!” Momo laughs it off, flustered. Kyouka can only regret the unsaid thoughts and follow after the other.

They've both shown each other the most vulnerable parts of themselves, Momo more so, but the mutual baring of it all isn't scary. It's...it's...

Kyouka has words on the tip of her tongue to explain the feeling, but none of it really comes close to what she wants to say. Maybe Momo has a word for it; she’s smart, and she can create a thesaurus out of nothing. But Kyouka is not Momo – she never will be – so the fact remains that Kyouka doesn't have a word for it at all.

(Yaoyorozu doesn't have one either. All the words she wants to say is too close to what she wants to say; it’s dangerous when she doesn't know everything she can know about the variable of Jirou, but she’ll never know everything. Yaoyorozu is not Jirou – she never will be – so the fact remains that Yaoyorozu doesn't have a word for it at all.)

Math is difficult for Kyouka to understand; she’s always been on the side of arts and humanities. She has basic counting down, but it’s another thing she still finds blame for in her own self because calculating risk and reward is one of the too many parts needed for heroism – playing guitar and other instruments for fun isn't.

So just like with her subject strengths, Kyouka has always erred on the side of caution with her awareness of how bad she is at calculation. Pragmatism is always her saviour when her own self isn't enough.

But as awful as she is at math, she knows full well that people aren't supposed to be things meant to be solved for where X is the answer. They're variables, but the unpredictable kinds that might just easily explode in your face if you let them because X turned out to be one factor and not the answer. Kyouka knows that Momo isn't the kind to be like that variable – it’s more of a Bakugou thing, of course – but it’s another worry she thinks about.

Because Kyouka thinks she might like Momo.

She’s known that she’s never really felt anything close to romantic attraction to any boys or girls in her life, already had accepted her fate of remaining loveless her whole life. It’s not as if she’s weeping over it, feeling any sort of incompleteness because of it; it just had been another fact she accepted because pragmatism is always the correct answer in those situations too.

But Momo Yaoyorozu is...something; it's just that Kyouka can’t describe Momo with just words or math metaphors or anything really, besides that Momo is Momo, that she’s something so undefined but also definite, that she’s so different but so similar, that she’s something that makes pragmatism seem incorrect for Kyouka – and all of it leaves Kyouka’s heart thrumming like the reverberations that echoes from each forceful strum of her guitar she plays to the tune of secret love songs.

(Solving for X doesn't matter since Momo Yaoyorozu is everything – she is the answer to Kyouka’s hypothetical math problem.)

Maybe it’s a side effect from the quirk, but Yaoyorozu prefers the math and sciences over anything else – besides all the subject related to heroics.

She’s always been an avid reader ever since she was a kid. She has to be anyway if she wants her quirk to be useful for anything; if she doesn't understand the very basics of an item, then she won't understand the entirety of an item. It’s that kind of thinking that lets her survive all her literature class where she had understood nothing.

How do you know what the author think about when they write their novels or papers or anything really? Yaoyorozu, as diligent and hardworking she is in those classes, can’t see it. She writes her own research papers and analysis essays, but the content of it doesn't reflect what she thinks; just because she writes about one thing doesn't mean that one thing can ever encompass her thoughts.

People can't just be so easily wrapped up into one thing and then slotted neatly into a category that they fit close enough; that’s not how people work. They're more than just themes, main ideas, or subjects. They're a combination of all of the above and even more because people can be read, but they really aren't meant to be read. People can't read people that aren't themselves.

She knows that much, understands it completely too, but it doesn't stop her from wishing to be in a universe where maybe it's possible; she wants to read all of Jirou Kyouka.

Because Jirou Kyouka is all of the things she respects in heroes and adores in her companions. She’s all badassery, easy insults, and composure but also all empathy, easy conversations, and similarities; Jirou is like the other half that all of the sappy love stories talk about that Yaoyorozu never really got either until now because yes – she finally understands why stories talk about soft looks, content hearts, and what it means to love someone.

(But reading people doesn't matter when understanding the tiniest part of Jirou Kyouka is enough, Yaoyorozu thinks.)

“Hey, I need to talk with you.”

“Huh? Oh, okay!”

Confessions aren't supposed to go like these, Kyouka thinks to herself, but then again...she doesn't know how they're supposed to go either. She’s a complete stranger to the act of it all, yet she had still been the one to initiate the situation.

She doesn't know yet how to approach the situation, just that her staring at Yaoyorozu probably isn't helping any. Kyouka can feel herself die internally at how the words are stuck in her throat again.

“Are you okay, Jirou?”

Kyouka can hear the worry and concern, but she can't process it. She can't process anything really, when she keeps fiddling with her earphone jacks and opening and closing her mouth in hesitation. She doesn't know what to do.

(Has she ever?)

But she doesn't want it to end like how it does last time, doesn’t want to follow Yaoyorozu in feigning ignorance about that night; she only wants to follow Yaoyorozu if it means it’s by her side without having to play charades with their thoughts and all.

So, she tries one last time. Throat dry and words elementary, she mumbles, “I really like you, Momo.”

A moment of silence before–

“Oh. Oh! I’m glad, Jirou!” Yaoyorozu smiles, aura bright and expression bubbly as she claps her hands together. (Kyouka thinks she’s falling for her again.) But then softly, “...are you sure? Me, of all people?"

And Kyouka smiles easily, hands moving to takes Yaoyorozu’s own and holding onto them tightly.

“I’m completely sure.”

(Kyouka leaves her heart in Yaoyorozu’s soft palms; Yaoyorozu leaves her heart in Kyouka’s gentle palms.

They leave the bad thoughts behind together.)

confident (adj.) • [ kon-fi-duhnt ]

having no uncertainty about one's own abilities, correctness, successfulness, etc.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #momojirou #momo yaoyorozu #jirou kyouka #bnha fic #seiju writes

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anjanettexcordonia · 3 years

Text

Paradise Lost

Pt 3 of Ties That Bind

This is a repost. (The link was dead)

**Trigger Warnings**

DARK DARK DARK

-NSFW/Mental Health/Violence/Rape Minimal fluff if any at all tbh.

***If you are sensitive to any of these please do not read.

Pairing: None

Word Count: 2,583 (I struggled with this chapter. Not sure why.)

**READ WITH CAUTION**

Excuse any grammatical errors or misspellings.

This will be a six part series. I do not have a timeline for when I will post. (I’m a mom & work full time)

Disclaimer: Riley Brooks & Liam Rhys belong to Pixelberry. All other characters in this chapter are mine.

Thanks to @texaskitten30 for beta reading this chapter for me.

Tags:

If you would like to be tagged or removed from taglist please let me know.

@gkittylove99 @kingliam2019 @yourmajesty09 @cordonia-gothqueen @mom2000aggie @texaskitten30 @hopefulmoonobject

16 year old Riley

It had been two years since the death of her mother. Two years of boarding school away from the horror of her father. Riley dreaded the holiday but was excited to see her younger brothers.

“Father, may I ask, what will be hunting tomorrow?”

Riley didn’t sleep a wink that night. She had no idea her younger brothers, Neal and Eddie were there. She hadn’t seen them yet. It had been six months since she had seen them last.

“Eddie” a large overweight man clapped their father on the back. “I see you brought an audience,” the strange man smirked.

Slap. Punch. Hit.

10 Years Later

Her King. His Queen.

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xhellnhighheelsx · 6 years

Note

Huh, well if we're still open for song lyrics as fic titles allow me to submit "you just couldn't fight for this (but it's not your fault)" from Gabbie Hanna's 'Out Loud'. It also features the line "but you're just a ghost now" which is what made me realize it was so fitting for Doctor/River in angsty mcangstville. ^_^

Okay, I know this took me forever to answer, but I’m so glad I waited for the right inspiration, because boy did I find it.

Originally, I was taking this in a River/Doctor way because, like you said, the song is just begging for some angsty opt fic. But I already wrote a ghost River one. So then I thought about the Big Finish quote where River compares the Doctor to a ghost. And I thought about doing a series of snipits throughout River’s life where she always saw the Doctor as this untouchable specter. THEN I listened to rest of the latest River Song Diaries and it was all my darkest Kovarian headcanons come to life and it gave me this idea:

“you just couldn’t fight for this (but it’s not your fault)”

A fic dedicated to River and her relationship with the Ponds. Neither River nor her parents ever stood a chance at changing what happened, and what’s more is, they never really try to fight to get back what they lost. The Diary ep even says they never talk about it, and honestly, of course they didn’t. How would they even begin?

How can they even breathe when the air between them is clouded with guilt? Amy and Rory can’t see past their failure to save their only daughter, and River is constantly feeling that she betrayed them somehow because, even given the chance, she wouldn’t change a thing. There must be so many questions that never dare get answered. After all, what would be the point when nothing spoken could ever change what happened and any questions they might ask would only lead to nightmares. The Ponds don’t want to hear about how River played with knives rather than dolls. They don’t want to imagine their little girl locked in a dingy cage. Amy and Rory have to keep their distance, otherwise their trauma becomes too real.

River knows. She sees the pain in their eyes when they look at her, and it hurts worse than any punishment Kovarian ever doled out. So River doesn’t force their love or look to Amy as a child should their mother. River keeps it casual. She pops in from time to time and they share a bottle of wine like old friends, like a person you know but don’t really miss when they’re gone. They talk about things that are safe, like what the Doctor is up to and how he ruined River’s dress or brought Rory back to life again. But River never asks about Amy’s local friends or their weekend plans because Amy always gets that look in her eyes when she talks of baby showers and birthday parties for her friend’s children. And River never asks Rory about the hospital he works at because she knows they love him down in the children’s ward and he volunteers there every other Sunday. And it hurts, how good they are with kids. It hurts, acknowledging the normalcy that she never got to have. No dance recitals or blowing out birthday candles. They’ll never know River’s first words or sneak a lost tooth out from under her pillow. They’ll never hear her giggle or know where she was ticklish. Truth be told, River couldn’t tell them if they asked, because the only touch she received was a pat on the head for a well placed bullet and the sounds she remembers most vividly are screams.

Just looking at her, their little girl all grown up, is a reminder of what they lost. River is basically a ghost to the Ponds. She’s a walking, talking echo of the daughter they never got to raise. Likewise, Amy and Rory aren’t any more tangible to River now than the faces in the picture frames she hoarded in her orphanage bedroom. She grew up before they ever knew she was born and they’ll always be too out of sync to ever really be her parents.

And maybe one night when Rory has gone to bed, Amy and River get a bit drunk and one story leads to another and River makes a joke about one of the Doctor’s other faces, and the next thing they know, Amy swallows hard and asks how it feels to regenerate. And River doesn’t want to tell her that one has to die to do it. That for her it felt like a persistent cough in a cold alleyway and a bullet in her abdomen. “It’s different for everyone,” is all River says, throat a little dry and voice strained, head light from the forth or fifth glass of red. And the liquor has made Amy’s tongue loose, too, because she’s slurring out, “Mels deserved better than what she got. She hated Hitler, well, I suppose everyone hates Hitler, don’t they?”

Amy snorts and River forces a small laugh, eyes on her wine glass because she doesn’t miss how Amy says her name in third person, as if the woman who wore the skin of her childhood friend isn’t sitting right beside her. Because they don’t see her as the people she’s been. She is still just River to them, even after they know who she is.

“River, just tell him (about the solar flares)”

“River, what did he tell you?”

“What’s River doing in a book?”

Amy knows that River and Mels and Melody are all the same, but only in the way that people who’ve never been to space know the Earth is round. It’s a fact you’ve been told. Something you can tell at the right time of day or when you stare or into the horizon for long enough. But it isn’t something they think about on a regular basis. It doesn’t effect their daily lives. River is woven into their timeline like a tapestry and yet her connection to them is nothing more than a detached fact that exists in their subconscious. She’s no more the woman who went to school with them than she is the child in a suit or the infant Amy held in her arms. All those people are ghosts and their relationship is nothing more than a sweater, littered with loose threads, that neither of them dare touch.

And maybe they only ever speak of Kovarian once, when River’s fresh from the Byzantium and Amy is crumbling under the weight of a moral crisis. River listens as Amy speculates on what it makes her now, if she can take a life. River carefully holds her tongue and wonders if Amy even realizes who she’s talking to sometimes, if she fully grasps how much of a killer River is capable of being. River literally made the entire universe scream in pain and yet Amy is the one with remorse in her eyes and blood on her hands. She talks of murder in an aborted time line and River sits as stoic as she can, as much distance between herself and the name Kovarian as physically possible as she consoles her mother that it doesn’t count. It’s just a bad dream. It never happened. But inside River has just a flicker of pride and jealousy. What she’d give to see the light drain from that woman’s eyes. It’s a revenge that’s far too cold to serve a purpose and too time rattled to count, but Amy had the strength to do something River never did. They talk of murder and it’s a bit too twisted to dwell on the fact that River’s never felt closer to her mother than she does at this moment.

And only sometimes, on very rare occasions, does Amy see past River’s disguises and harder outer shell. Sometimes, when Amy’s at her most vulnerable, she sees River for what she is, a little girl who lost her family. Only then does she call her Melody, and it makes River want to bristle and weep at the same time. It’s evidence of her mother’s love but it’s also a reminder of the nightmares of her youth and of everything she never got to have. They call her by the name she left behind and River fights the urge to flinch because of what it means.

Think about how much River must have hated that name- Melody. Amy gave it to her but it was Kovarian that used it, that spat it like a curse. Melody was a shell, a creature that never had a choice, but River is the name she chose, possibly the first choice she ever made for herself. It’s what the Doctor calls her even after he discovers who she is, because he knows all about the importance of a name. But River never tells Amy and Rory that her birth name fills her with rage. She doesn’t take that away from them, the thin thread that binds her to her parents.

Maybe River almost prefers it on the days they don’t know who she is yet, when she can let the pretenses fall and see faces that aren’t darkened by shadows. Maybe she prefers when things are easier, when she can confess things to her father, when she can speak to Amy candidly, when she can look after her and make jokes in a Maze of the Dead, when she can tell her that she’s brave to stare down an Angel without blinking. In these days at least one of them can play mother, at least she can say all the things Amy would have said to her if the universe was fair.

And then one day, they’re gone, stolen again, and she misses them.. but not like she should, like a real daughter would. Maybe it’s because Amy willfully left her this time. Maybe River encouraged Amy to chase Rory into the darkness because she knows they’ve always fought harder for their husbands than they have for each other. Maybe she knew it would be an easy decision for Amy to make, because she wasn’t choosing between her husband and her child at all. Deep down, River knows she’s more of a ghost to them than the tombstone with Rory’s name on it.

River never had parents, but she isn’t a fool. She knows that as much as one loves their spouse, they’d never choose them over their child. And yet, Amy does. Because her almost daughter is grown and never really needed her in the first place, so of course Amy chooses Rory. Of course Amy doesn’t look at River before she disappears forever. She reaches back and tells her to be brave because that’s all she’s ever really been able to give. The last River sees of her mother is a flash of red hair as she spins to face the Doctor, and funnily enough it’s what she remembers from when she was born as well. Her mother’s hair a crimson stain in an all white room. It’s what she remembers when her child self was strapped in a suit, the way her mother’s hair cut through the air like a knife as she turned and pointed a weapon at little Melody’s face.

And they’re gone now, shattered like a picture frame and scattered like dust, taking with them any semblance of family River had left. She doesn’t blame them, but she almost wishes she could because she’s just so angry. At everything she never had, at what could have been, at herself for squandering away the little time she had because she was too scared to have the hard conversations. She’s angry she never fought harder and she’s haunted by all the things they almost said or almost did. Like when she was brand new and they were standing over the Doctor’s body and Amy reached for her but never took her hand. Her whole life feels like that, like shes so close to something she’ll never get to have.

Beside her, the ageless, untouchable God she calls husband mourns his Ponds because, quite possibly, he knew them in a way this face never did. And that’s what mattered most, the face she wore, the one that wasn’t quite their little girl. And the Doctor sighs, apologies on his lips because, “River, they were your parents. I didn’t think.”

And River just shakes her head like the psychopath she was trained to be, because of course he didn’t think of her that way. And that’s okay. “It doesn’t matter.” His Ponds never thought of her that way either.

#ask #codenamesailordarillium #doctor who #river song #drfic #the ponds #I know this isn’t exactly the brand of angst you were looking for but I hope you’re not too disappointed this isn’t river doctor #the song itself absolutely is. it wrecked me. I must have listened to it 50 times on repeat lol #prepare for tears

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scullysexual · 5 years

Text

titanic au | multichapter-au | au | multiple parts | historical au | msr | mature | ao3 | wc: 2,060 | 2/13 |

For Mulder, a wealthy English-bred socialite who’s had everything given to him since birth, the Titanic is shipping him off to a prison, a life he no longer wishes for or wants. For Scully, an Irish stranger from the lower class, it offers a new life, a future she can truly envision in America. What if the universe put them on the same path to achieve those dreams at the cost of life?

@today-in-fic

- - -

A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight: Chapter Two.

What’s a bit of lack of sleep for a week?

In the mirror, he catches the reflection of the safe. Spinning, he walks over to it, pulling it open. His hand strokes the inside feeling the cold iron. It’s of decent size, enough room to place valuables. He looks to the carry-on he’d brought on with him, an idea in his head. Reaching into the bag, his fingers gripping hold of the old leather book. Pulling it out, he places it inside the safe. With a bit of manoeuvring he manages to fit it in and be able to lock the safe afterwards.

Few people know about that book, a few more know about his talent that comes with it. Phoebe knew about the talent but not the book. His parents know briefly of his talent but again, not the book. The book is his and while he is in no way ashamed of his drawings- in fact, if you were to turn the first page you’d be met with a very innocent drawing of his sister, however a bit further on and you’ll find the not-so-innocent drawings. It was those he wanted to keep secret.

Mulder groans.

“Did you really have to bring that thing, Phoebe?”

Phoebe looks at him as though he’s just told her she wouldn’t be eating dinner for a month.

“Of course I had to bring her Fox,” she says in utter disgust. “Did you just expect me to leave him behind?” She takes the Maltese out of its cage, hand it to one of her maids before she holds the animal up.

Mulder stares at the hairball currently in his face. “Can’t you take her?” he asks, careful to use the word ‘her’ rather than ‘it’.

“I can’t. I need to unpack.”

“I can do that.”

Phoebe looks at him like he’s grown another head.

“No, you’ll just put things in the wrong place.”

Mulder sighs and accepts his punishment.

“Alright, where’s the leash?”

He lets the dog get on with it, lets it take its time too, maybe it’ll wander too far to the rail and fall off the ship, but Mulder doubts he’s that lucky.

A second man, older than the first, sits on a bench with his eyes shut and lets the breeze ruffle what little hair he has.

“You envy them?” Mulder asks. Most people he’s met in his life scorn them, question how they could live like that. A change in tune is a nice welcome.

“A little bit. Makes you wonder what experiences he’s had this far.”

The boy turns and Mulder is taken back slightly by the gash on his face.

“He’s experienced a good punch if that cut is anything to go by,” Mulder laughs. He stretches his arm out towards the man. “I’m Mulder,” he says.

The name strikes no recognition with a man for which Mulder is absolutely grateful for.

“John Byers.”

Similarly, the name does strike any recognition for Mulder either. The two shake hands just as the dogs wander over. Mulder opens the gate, attaching the leash back onto Tuppence.

“I’ll see you at dinner, then?” Byers calls as Mulder makes his way back inside.

“Yes, you will.”

All in all, the whole debacle had delayed them by thirty minutes.

“Fox…Fox…” he swear he hears his Mother saying.

It’s Phoebe’s sigh of annoyance that forces him out of his reverie.

“He’s doing that thing again, Mother.”

“Fox!” his father barks. Mulder looks to his father, dazed for a moment and fully aware he has no idea what conversation is going on. “Mr Skinner is speaking to you.”

Mulder looks towards the bald man, only now realising that he had joined their table.

“I’m sorry, Mr Skinner,” Mulder apologises. “You were saying?”

“I was just congratulating you and Miss Green on your engagement,” Skinner tells him.

Mulder smiles and reaches for Phoebe’s hand on the table, clasping their fingers together. Not showing anything is amiss, Phoebe smiles.

“Thank you, Mr Skinner,” Mulder says. He looks to Phoebe then. “My only wish is for this week to hurry so I can soon make Phoebe my wife officially.”

He brings the hand he holds to his lips then, placing a gentle kiss to the top of it. And Phoebe sincerely smiles at him.

Mulder’s never hated himself more.

Just as they’re finishing their third course does the conversation change once more. Mulder pays no mind to it, he nods when he’s expected to and that is all.

“You’re old friend Bill,” a man from the farther end of the table shouts over. “Spender- is he on the ship, do you know?”

“I saw his son before,” says Phoebe. “He didn’t look too happy.”

“You remember Jeffrey, don’t you, son?” Bill asks Mulder.

“Yes, he was in my Psychology class at Oxford,” Mulder answers simply before going back to his soup.

The man at the end of the table pipes up again. “I never saw the point in educating yourself on those types of subjects. Seems a waste of time.”

“Fox has a special knack for reading people, don’t you?”

Mulder nods. And I can read you people better than you think.

Dessert is on it’s way when the conversation changes once more. The man at the end of the table telling everyone, once again, that he has an opinion to make.

“Would anyone else sleep better knowing we weren’t sharing a boat with steerage?”

Mulder’s stomach twists.

“Mother and I saw some wandering down our hallway earlier. How they managed to get up there, I have no idea.”

“Maybe they were just lost, Phoebe,” Mulder says as gently as he can, the anger seething beneath.

“Whatever they’re excuse, a crewmember soon shouted at them to leave and off they scurried off.”

“Like rats in the woodwork, back down to the basement were they belong,” the man at the end of the table gruffly laughs.

“I’m sure they won’t be an issue anymore,” says Father.

Done with the conversation and dinner all together, Mulder denies dessert as its served.

“I just feel a bit sick,” Mulder says when questioned.

“You might have caught something off the docks earlier,” says Phoebe reaching up to touch his forehead. She looks to the gathering worriedly, “He is burning up.”

Mulder brings her hand away. “I’ll see you later on,” he says and with that he leaves the table, no kiss, no hug, no form of intimacy at all, he just leaves.

He makes his way to the back of the ship, away from on-lookers and those who would judge him, happy to find the stern empty.

His heart is in this throat every step. Mulder never considered himself afraid of much, if he was dared to do something he’d do it but maybe it’s the fact that he’s alone that scares him. Whenever you do a dare there’s always at least another person, someone to catch you if you fall, someone to pull you back when they get too scared but out here it’s only him- only him, the ship, and the sea and if he falls that’s it.

“I hope you’re not considering jumping?”

Mulder startles, almost losing his balance in the process. He grips the rails tighter, wondering if this was such a good idea after all.

A nervous laugh falls from his lips.

“I wasn’t until you nearly made me.”

“Sorry,” the woman says. A woman’s voice. “I just saw you climb up there and got a wee bit nervous, that’s all.”

Mulder twists slightly so he can see the person. As he turns, he almost falls again when he realises who’s standing there.

The red-head from earlier.

“Maybe you should get down,” she says, face a full display of concern. She edges closer slowly. “It’s a hard long fall if you fall off.”

She leans against the rails just as he’d done earlier.

“Maybe I like the risk,” Mulder says, a façade of a fearless smile appearing across his face. Really, he was shitting bricks.

Mulder looks down into the water directly below him.

“How long we talking?” he asks.

Her answer is quick, ready like she’d been prepared to answer all along.

Gaining her point, he begins to twist on the rails, back to the sea as he jumps down.

He stretches out his hand, curious as to why the universe as thrown her in his path for a second time that day and even more curious to know why she knows so much about cold water.

“I’m Mulder.”

She ignores his hand, an eyebrow shooting up. “Mulder? I’m not entitled to a first name?”

Mulder laughs nervously again, throwing his arm to his side. “You don’t want to know it.”

She regards him, as if wondering whether he is worth an interest in or not.

“In that case…” she draws out. “I’m Scully.”

#txf fic #titanic au #i write

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alltheangstmygifttoyou · 4 years

Text

Keep Them Around

A/N: I just realized that I haven’t been putting a summery on these and that’s probably part of the reason that no one is looking at them, so uh, sorry about that! This is the fourth part of the Learn To Be prequel series I’m posting. It is from Jason’s perspective this time around (boo’s all around) and goes back even further in time than the last one. There is one thing about this that could seem problematic and I’ve debated whether to keep it but I’ve decided that in the grand story it isn’t really that bad. A heads up though in case you want to avoid it is one of the antagonists of the story has a mental illness. In Learn to Be most of the main characters also suffer from one mental illness or another so when I write it I don’t see it as vilifying mental illness and it is not my intent but I can see how someone after reading this can jump to that conclusion since only two of the main characters are actually shown in the prequel. If anyone has any tips to I’d love to hear them!

Summery: Jason reminisces on he and Heather got together.

Word Count: 2265

TW: domestic violence, unhealthy relationship, domestic abuse, child abuse, child neglect, sexism

Jason sat at the dining table eating dinner with his wife and two kids. His wife had made grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, and corn for them all. She sat to his right, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders, leaning forward as she took a bite of potatoes off of her fork. To his left his nine year old son Jesse sat with wavy black hair, whose color matched his own, and a button up shirt. He was still cutting up his chicken into small squares. Across from Jason his daughter Jester sat chewing what must have been a piece of chicken and staring at her plate. Unlike anyone else at the table she had dyed her hair making it two colors, purple at the top which then faded to green on the bottom. No one had spoken a word this meal, all the others too wary after his bad mood this morning. Silence didn’t bother Jason though, so he didn’t speak either. Instead the moment was a perfect opportunity to reflect.

He had married his wife fourteen years ago. Back then she was just another college student he saw around campus. She was pretty though, with golden locks that went just past her shoulders and blue eyes that were oceans of their own. Jason knew he wanted to be married when he ran for a council position, since having a loving wife speak on your behalf helped gain people's trust. Yet, no one had caught his attention. Many women found him intimidating (another thing that having a wife would certainly help with) so he wasn’t often approached, except by the occasional prostitute. He didn’t take them up on their offers despite his body’s yearning, since no matter how much he paid them off there was still the chance they’d rat him out to get their five minutes of fame. But, this blond stayed in his sights for awhile. He started to notice that he was seeing her more often, until finally she approached him in a career math class.

“Would you like to be my partner for this assignment?” She stood next to where he sat, close enough that he’d barely have to move and his shoulder would hit her knee. She wore a plaid black and red knitted skirt that went to her mid-thigh. Her legs had been freshly shaved making them shine in the classroom lights. He took his time looking up to her face. She wore a plain white thin long sleeved sweater that fit snugly around her body showing off her flat stomach and heavy chest. Her face held a bright smile and red cheeks

“Alright,” he answered, she had managed to pique his curiosity. Her smile grew and she plopped down in the seat next to him causing her chest to bounce. He wondered if she was wearing a bra.

“It’s Jason right? I’m Heather.” She introduced herself and then they worked on the assignment. They exchanged phone numbers and emails and even after they finished and presented the assignment they stayed in contact. She sat next to him in class and started trying to catch lunch with him whenever possible. He learned a lot about her during those meetups. She studied medicine and business in the goal of being chief of medicine someday. Not only were her looks above average but her intelligence as well. Often he was annoyed when people texted him constantly but he didn’t mind as much with Heather. He took those feelings into account and decided that she would be his wife. Of course he didn’t say that right away, he did research on the best way to begin a relationship with someone and asked her out to dinner. He had many ideas on how to convince her to, as the internet put it “give him a chance”, but as it turned out she was more than eager to agree. Apparently it had been quite obvious to some of his other college mates he spoke to that she had been waiting for him to ask her out. It had made things go considerably smoother.

Heather had the special talent to make Jason feel good about actions he normally considered a bother. He liked buying her gifts, imagining her smile when she saw them. Remembering important dates for her didn’t feel like a chore. When they had their first time together it made the pleasure his hand provided feel like nothing. Never before had he imagined he’d do things just to please another but it just felt natural with her. Her happiness gave him immense satisfaction.

They were married before she finished her schooling, and she was ecstatic about helping him get onto the council. When they promised themselves to each other it wasn’t standard vows. There was no leaving this relationship except for death. No outside force would separate them, their relationship was above laws and morals. The only important lives were their own. Heather had not only agreed to these vows, but helped create them as well. She was just what he had dreamed of for a woman. There were plenty of times she got on his nerves, pushed him past his limit causing him to lash out, but she didn’t leave. Likewise she had broken too, gone as far to pull a gun on him during an argument. Their vows were unbreakable though, and they worked past that.

Eventually, after Heather was out of college and working at a major hospital, Jason noticed her mood swings were getting worse. It didn’t take much to set her off, be it her screaming at him for not rinsing his plate off thoroughly enough or sobbing because he told her dogs weren’t his favorite animal. Something was wrong. With her emotions completely off the handle Jason’s own were becoming more difficult to keep controlled, it felt like there were rats trapped inside him clawing at their cage instead of simply living inside. Yet, the more he lost control the worse she became, arguments devolved into physical violence on both sides for once. If he didn’t stop this it would ruin everything. Someone might call the police, or worse, Heather would break down in public. So, he sat her down and listed all of her symptoms at her without mentioning that the subject showing these symptoms were in fact herself. Heather wasn’t an expert on psychology but she knew more than him. She said the subject should see a professional and get tested for bipolar disorder. He brought a professional over the next day and made her talk to him. After a few months of experimentation Heather’s mood seemed stabilized, as long as she actually took her pills.

Jason’s eyes landed on his son Jesse, his nostalgia about his wife reminding him how this boy came to be. After the successful campaign and Jason was on the council life calmed as he waited and plotted on how to gain control of the council. While Jason was content with this lull Heather wanted more. Jason had longer work days and more trips keeping him from home. Heather moaned about how lonely she was. When they went shopping together she lingered by the toy sections. At restaurants Jason had to remind her not to stare at the families at other tables. She wasn’t subtle about what she wanted. Jason liked the idea of children, but only the idea. Good children would help him reach his goals, with more voices on his side and another plus to his character to the public. However good children weren’t a guarantee. A single child could ruin everything. Genes were unpredictable sometimes, mutations happened. If they had a child that turned out to be terrible they couldn’t just get rid of it the standard way.

Jason told all of this to Heather, but she remained fixated on the idea. The sighing wouldn’t stop, meals were being ordered instead of cooked, cartoons played on the television, and she never wanted to have any kind of sex. However the worst was the times he woke up to hear little sniffles next to him. He could feel her body’s suppressed shakes against him. When he tried to talk to her she’d tell him in a croaked voice that she was okay and tell him to go back to sleep. He wanted to help but she wouldn’t let him. They were both miserable, and it was his fault. He weighed the pros and cons again, and began researching ways to somehow make the child more likely to be good. As well as the most common accidental child deaths, for two opposite reasons. After a month of research, internal debate, and unrestful nights he made his decision.

“We can have three children at the most,” he announced while they ate Chinese. Heather had cried tears of joy and didn’t let him finish his sweet and sour chicken before dragging him up to the bedroom. He didn’t complain. Every night he was home Heather had a large diner prepared that she had clearly cooked herself, which they ate together before she dragged him away again. Until one day he came home only to be tackled in the doorway.

‘We’re having a baby!” Heather squealed, and while he wasn’t particularly excited about a baby, he loved her smile. He watched her design the nursery, took time off to go to the hospital with her, and was there for the birth. Everything had been fine until the birth. There was only supposed to be a baby girl born. Instead the first infant to come out clearly had a penis. Heather liked his blonde hair though so that wasn’t a complete disaster. No, the true disaster was when another baby came, this time a baby girl with black hair. Despite Heather’s initial excitement at the idea of a baby girl this baby had thin black hair and was heavier than the other. It made Heather instantly connect more to the little boy. Jason had let Heather choose the name for the baby originally, but since Jesse was a unisex name she gave it to the little boy. When it came to the little girl she looked to Jason. He hadn't been prepared so he said the first name that came to mind. He named her Jester, and at that moment he realized that this was his child, not just Heather’s.

Jesse was given the original nursery, although, Heather completely redecorated it. She claimed she was so busy with redesigning Jesse’s room and watching both babies to do Jester’s room, leaving it to Jason. Jason put her crib in the middle of the room, a room with white carpet and white walls and a single window. There was no point in fully decorating it like his wife insisted with Jesse, when Jester grew up he’d let her choose what the room looked like. It had a mobile with the planets since they were just colorful circles, and eventually he added a nightlight so checks would go smoother.

Especially when Jesse was too young to walk or talk Jason was given very little influence on the little boy’s life. Heather rarely even let him hold the child. His wife’s focus on her son left Jester alone in her crib. Since his wife’s focus was always stuck on the baby Jason was left in their room, hearing the little girl cry through the monitor. Sometimes he’d go and cradle her until she quieted down, other times he’d tell Heather to feed her. He could not have a malnourished child.

When the two twins became toddlers things changed further. Jason had always believed in physical punishment. When little Jesse broke his vase he gave him a spank. And then Heather grabbed Jason by the hair and threw him to the floor.

“Never touch my son like that again!” She roared before swooping Jesse up and skittering off to the playroom. Jason counted backwards from ten to keep his anger in check. She didn’t care when he spanked Jester! But that was just it, somehow they had split the children in two. Jason took that realization in stride, he focused his attention mainly on Jester, mostly only giving Jesse compliments and praise when the boy wanted it. However with Jester he disciplined her, he pushed her, he made sure her time was always being spent well. When her powers first appeared he made sure that she could push the limits with them. That she had as much control as possible. He made sure that she was at the top of her class in every way.

Looking at his daughter from across the table he felt as if his hard work was paying off. She was beautiful, she didn’t need help to take care of herself, she was mature, she did everything he said. Out in public there wasn’t a better child for a leader to have. Jester was able to speak to just about anyone and charm them completely. People often forget how young she was. Jesse wasn’t bad but he was still awkward around strange adults, it was clear he was only nine. Jason made sure Jesse was always with either Heather or himself at these events. Jester roamed free though, making connections that Jason couldn’t reach. When she became an actual adult he wanted her to take over the business. Of course Jesse would be the face, as who could resist a strong man? His wife was teaching the boy how to look his best. Yes, everything was going to plan. Jason was happy here.

#learn to be #writeblr #tw domestic abuse #TW child abuse #tw cursing #tw unhealthy relationship #tw child neglect #tw sexism

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