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nemo-draco · 3 years

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The First Step

Hi all! Bit of a crossover piece here, courtesy of some amazing art on behalf of @rose-junk-junky on Tumblr, and @a-rae-of-sunshine, whose characters feature here along with my own. Long story short, saw some amazing animatics and art with Rae's characters in a Frankenstein-like scenario, and my guys jumped in with a cry of 'new friend!'.

To read off our cast, Whimsy, Fancy, and Whimsy's 'creator' (this AU's version of the Mayor of Burnsville) are the characters of a-rae-of-sunshine. The AU itself was thought up by rose-junk-junky, who I also have to thank for showing the Frankenstein Musical album in the animatics. All the rest are mine.

Hope you enjoy!

A First Step:

"If any being felt emotions of benevolence towards me, I should return them a hundred and a hundredfold; for that one creature's sake I would make peace with the whole kind!" Adam Frankenstein, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Their dreams were racing, blurred things, fraught with frantic energy and a sinking sense of wrongness that made them feel sick to their stomach. It was like they were stuck on a top, whirling from images of crackling electricity, to fire, to the ripping of stitches, to the sounds of people screaming in both anger and fear. But rising above it all was that one face, that one person, who's attention they had coveted the most, and the one they hated all the more for what HE'D DONE TO THEM-

"I should never have given you breath…"

-Awakening in a dark room, empty, filled with books and beakers, devoid of anyone-

"You're a beast to be feared…"

-Wandering in the wilderness, cold and alone, seeing others but always being met with screams and vitriol-

"By heaven we'll drag you…"

-The brief respite of the blind woman and her company, ruined when the others came and saw-

"And haunt you…"

-Fire leaping, climbing higher and higher, growing out of control-

"And banish your soul…"

-His face, their own creator, staring at them with such revulsion and hatred-

"From this earth!"

The nightmare went from formless to something concrete, Whimsy all but slamming down into their own body just in time to feel a rope slip around their neck. Immediately it tightened, yanking the reanimated faerie towards…

…A creaky, rickety platform of wood. One that somehow filled them with more dread and fear than they'd ever thought possible. The fear became something real, forming fire that leapt around the construct like it was some specter summoned up from Hell. A shadowy crowd appeared in the billows of smoke, voices like howling wolves as they screamed.

"Kill it!"

"It's a demon, a monster!"

"Be rid of the awful thing!"

They spun, pulled, tried everything they could to get away from the noose's pull, even slipping their fingers around the rope to try to yank it off, but nothing worked. And worse still, a numbness was seeping into their body, starting from their feet and working its way up to their ankles.

A face in the crowd leapt out to them, their eyes widening as they recognized their creator standing among the throng. Before they could even think, or read into the neutral, blank expression on their maker's face, they cried out like a drowning man casting about for a lifeline.

"Help me! Help me, please!"

Their legs grew stiff and cold, only weighing them down as they struggled to escape the noose, the fire, the awful drop...

"I'm alive!" They screamed, eyes tearing as they sought out their creator's emotionless stare, as cold as the deadening sensation creeping up their body. They were being pulled up the stairs, up to the gallows...

But somehow, even over all the screaming, the jeers, the fire, and the creaking pull of the hangman's rope, they could hear their creator whisper as though he were right next to them.

"No, you aren't."

"You made me!" Whimsy cried, feeling a slight give in the boards under their feet, hinting at the presence of a trapdoor. The fire climbed, the crowd howled for their death, the feeling of the end pulling their hands away from the lethally light weight of the noose. "YOU MADE ME!"

But with no inflection, no emotion, came the cold response.

"I reject you."

And with a snap, then came the short drop...

...And the sudden stop as their body thudded against the floor, thankfully a carpeted one that masked the noise.

Not that Whimsy, for the moment, had much mind to be thankful.

For the time being, their mind was frozen, limbs shakily drawing in to curl out of some instinctive reaction as they tried to figure out whether or not they were once again dead.

The feeling of their heart galloping in their chest, as well as the frantic gasping rushing in and out of their clenched teeth, contradicted that idea. Well, that and a slight sting radiating through their hip given that had smacked into the floor before the rest of them.

Sitting gingerly up and untangling themselves with a trembling set of arms, Whimsy sat in the dark for a spell, before deciding that this wasn't helping and stumbling to their feet. Their hands only shook a little as they found the doorknob, though as they stepped out into the hall the faintly cooler temperature jolted them to something that felt a little more in control...and drew their eye down to a plate that had been left next to their door. A quick sniff brought the scents of beef, some kind of vegetables, maybe bread? All of it was a little dulled though, the plate itself cool to the touch. This had been left a while ago, that was for sure...

It made them realize that they weren't even fully aware of what time it was. The most they could say was 'night' but the house around them was dead silent. Everyone else must already be in bed.

The notion was surprisingly relieving, Whimsy picking up the plate and deciding to head downstairs. Even the faintly chilled food was somewhat appetizing, especially since this would be the first time they'd eaten all day. Or…night? Whenever.

Despite their height, the reanimated (corpse) faerie was able to move stealthily down the hallway, to the stairs leading down to the larger part of the house. The…guy, Cab, who had brought them here had said that it was an old firehouse. When they'd gotten it set up, they'd moved the pole, somehow got a spiral staircase, and made the whole downstairs open to co-join the garage with the rest of the first floor, barring a little section for a bathroom and closet. That was a design choice that Whimsy'd been a little confused by, Cab's words that it was for 'Bee's benefit not really helping to illuminate much.

At least, not until the car sitting in the garage space started talking, during which that little mystery was cleared up in short order.

Whimsy had just come down the stairs when a faint noise caught their attention, their head jerking in the direction it had come from to see a very small figure sitting at the table. The most eye-grabbing feature was a small streak of silver running through a head of otherwise black hair, a tired shadow in the tailor's face despite the brief flash of nerves at the sight of the towering, stitched-together faerie (reanimated corpse). The pair stared at each other, Whimsy belatedly remembering that this was the person who owned this house, what had Cab called him again?

Either way, they couldn't exactly ask with their mouth full, so they made an effort to swallow a rather large mouthful of chilled beef and bread. He ended up beating them to actually talking though, voice quiet with an attempt at nonchalance.

"Glad to see you liked the food. We did have dinner a while ago, but you were asleep. We didn't want to wake you."

"Thanks," Whimsy muttered, once their mouth was free to reply, though they realized that they didn't really have anything to add or say. Funnily enough, Fancy seemed to have the same issue too, drumming his fingers on the table for an instant as his eyes cast around before lighting on the softly steaming mug in front of him.

"Do, you want some tea?"

Tea. Whimsy had a vague memory of it from when they'd spoken to the blind woman. A bit bitter, but warm. And, if something were to go wrong, then they could just leave, right?

So, even with the mistrust nudging at the back of their mind, Whimsy edged cautiously forward, carefully watching for some sign of underhanded play. It was a nervousness that was echoed a little in the tailor, Fancy looking up to meet Whimsy's eyes and, consciously or not, huddling down a bit like a fox that had come too close to a bear.

The faerie themselves edged quietly into the seat, nearly approaching calm before a metallic, humming voice spoke up from behind them.

"'Ey Whims."

Oh, right, and the car, the thought of which immediately had Whimsy changing seats to keep both Fancy and 'Bee' within view (and noticing with a silent shiver of bracing tension that the sleek, not all together large but still not small black car had rolled closer). Not that Bee himself seemed to take much offense, given his next, calm words.

"Thanks for switchin', by the way. Easier to talk when I'm not hollering over someone. Guess it's the exterior, dunno. Not many people expect the car to hold a conversation." Despite the easy tone, Whimsy couldn't feel relaxed, like there was a trap somewhere that they needed to keep an eye out for. They might not have been run out on a rail yet but it had barely been twenty four hours.

"People…ignore you?" Whimsy still asked, faintly piqued by the implication. Though they really couldn't guess what was worse, to be shunned or ignored. A faintly vindictive part of them hissed that to be shunned was worse, an ignored person could at least live among other people.

"Eh, sometimes. Though bein' innocuous enough to escape notice does have its perks. It's how I was designed after all."

Immediately Whimsy's brain got stuck on that last bit, to the point where they couldn't help asking.

"…Designed?"

"Originally I was made to be what you'd call a 'cursed object'. Maker just decided to be more ambitious and cursed a car rather than something like a toaster or doll or whatever. Demonically-charged rituals can be a mite bit unpredictable, apparently, 'cause I ended up with enough 'me' to say I liked the guy I was supposed to be causing trouble for a lot better. 'Course I couldn't stay when I kinda revealed I was alive, but, y'know, nice while it lasted."

"We're glad to have you either way, Bee." Fancy spoke up, it just striking Whimsy then and there that the tailor didn't seem surprised by any of what Bee had just said. Granted that could make sense, considering they had known each other longer. Things like this had probably come up before. It definitely seemed like it considering that Bee's tone was casual, even wistful in some spots, when talking about this person that he'd supposedly been sent to cause trouble for.

"Same. Great to be in a house where I can actually talk to people."

It was almost relieving for Whimsy to drop into the role of a spectator, but inevitably, the talk had to turn back to the last conversation partner that was sitting at the table.

"So, Whimsy, were exactly have you been? Thought I knew all the myths around here. Granted, most of them live in this house, but, well…" Though Bee trailed off, and certainly didn't sound like he was anything but calm and faintly curious, Whimsy couldn't help but feel the edge of an interrogation in the words.

"I, I've been…traveling…" Even to their ears, it sounded incredibly feeble. But they didn't know what else to add so they stayed quiet. At least, what they could say without getting into some worrying territory.

"Blew in from outta town?"

"Yeah." The faint grumble from the reanimated faerie completely contradicted the easier, flowing tone that the car employed, Whimsy remembering what they'd just learned about Bee and feeling…a sort of discomfort. Bee had sounded like he'd at least known something about what they went through, at least on some level, how on earth could he sound so put together? So calm?

It wasn't fair.

"What made you decide to come here? It's not exactly a prime tourist spot."

"…I wanted to meet someone."

"This a myth or a person?"

"Person. Didn't work out." To put it mildly, their memory flashing to a twisted, destroyed frame hidden partially under a sheet, sightless eyes staring up at them as that voice screamed about how they would not be tricked or cowed by a demon, a shambling wreck of a faerie-

"Sorry to hear that."

Whimsy didn't have an answer, and looked down as Fancy came back with a mug of tea. It was too hot to drink, but the warmth from the mug was more than enough to create a comfortable heat, soaking into their hands and driving the memories away. At least for the time being.

"Do you have anywhere else to go? I know Cab's probably said you could stay, but… do you have someone that might be waiting for you?" Bee asked, the somewhat quieter, hesitant tone a definite tell that this was a question that the car was aware might be difficult.

"…No."

Alone. All alone. Anything they might've had gone in a blaze of fire and all because of some bad timing. Anything they could have had gone because of a selfish, stupid creator that only cared that they'd taken their first breath, and not any of what came after.

A flash of pain went through Whimsy's temple, causing a wince that had them bringing their hand up before they realized what they were doing.

"You alright?"

"Fine."

The sound of something rustling off to the side caught Whimsy's attention, the reanimated faerie nearly jumping out of their stitched skin as they looked in the direction of the noise, only to see Fancy having reached to the center of the table for a napkin. The sudden movement on their part made the tailor jump too, though something in Whimsy's face seemed to catch his attention.

"Whimsy?"

They weren't fine. This wasn't fine. They felt horribly off kilter and the questions and constant presence of people were starting to take their toll. If it was just Bee, or just Fancy, Whimsy felt like they could have handled it better. But the fact that there were two relatively sharp individuals here, moving around and poking at them, stoked their nerves. Even though they knew that there was no immediate danger, that no one had lit fires or gathered up weapons, a part of them was consistently on edge, looking for some sign of trouble.

And they didn't want to! It was making their jaw clench, their head zinging with overstressed aches and pains. They were jumping at shadows and it made it hard to concentrate.

They knew that the full answers would only provoke suspicion, and perhaps an eviction. It wasn't like they'd told everything to anyone here. Though, the memory of the blind woman, and the distinct difference in how that had felt versus this, tugged at Whimsy, making them wonder both just what had changed in them to create such a feral anxiety, and also knowing exactly why.

How long before this ended too…

Another faint pain twanged at the muscles in their temple as a result, the feeling making Whimsy wince and murmur to themselves as they tried to knead the sensation out.

"What's, what's wrong with me...?"

There was a pause, Fancy seeming to shore up his nerve before taking a seat next to the steadily devolving faerie, a hand tentatively resting on their arm.

"I think, that there's a lot you're grappling with, and you need some time to process it all. I could be wrong about this, but it doesn't seem like you've really had anyone before Cab brought you here, and part of that might be due to your appearance. Which, isn't fair to you, you can't control that sort of thing, not completely. I would say it's normal, even expected, for you to feel angry, to feel hurt, and... perhaps even a little afraid."

The notion that they were, or had ever been afraid caused Whimsy to recoil, turning a hard look Fancy's way as the tailor jumped and also withdrew, his face a mask of tension. Bee too remained quiet, though Whimsy could just faintly hear the noise of his tires rolling closer by a half-inch. The standoff lasted for all of a few moments, before Whimsy remembered that Fancy did not have to let them stay in his house. Besides, he had drawn off, and didn't look ready to try touching the reanimated faerie again.

So, Whimsy let him be, and turned back to stare into their tea.

But the sight of their own reflection merely stirred those thoughts up again, the defiant bark of why would I be afraid answered with a smaller, insidious whisper of because your existence is singular, and you will always be alone. You don't even like the sight of yourself in the mirror, remember? Your creator wanted nothing to do with you, you were a mistake from beginning to end...

And when death finally claims you, who will even bother to mourn?

A small droplet of water splashed into the tea from above, Whimsy's grip on the mug handle so tight it was quivering.

"Whimsy...?" Fancy's voice came from the side, still worried sounding but there was a new edge of care to it that still felt so alien for Whimsy to hear directed at themselves.

"Oh geez…" Bee's voice murmured, with the same sort of softer, concerned tones.

"Damn that stupid, selfish..."

It was quick, a hissed few words on Fancy's part, but Whimsy had heard them clear as a bell.

They weren't able to move, much less address those words, and Fancy didn't acknowledge them either. Instead, he rested his hand atop their arm again and continued to speak.

"Whimsy, I need you to take deep breaths, just a few. Can you do that for me?"

They tried, but what came out were hisses that turned into gasps that felt like far too much effort for the simple act of breathing.

"Alright, that's a good start. Now I want you to try breathing in through your nose, and out through your mouth, Whimsy. It'll help you feel better, I promise."

Though there was that instinctive nugget of mistrust, there was also the part of Whimsy that was starting to believe that they were being smothered somehow, and the way Fancy had spoken before tipped the scales in favor of trusting the little tailor.

And, in spite of everything, the advice was helping. Whimsy found air coming easier and easier after a moment or two. But the whole experience had left them winded and exhausted, which made it a little difficult to hear what Fancy asked at first.

"How are you feeling?"

"I," Whimsy started, swallowing around a dry throat. "I feel…"

It took a moment to really parse through their physical symptoms, though eventually words came to describe the strange mix of light-headed and completely worn out.

"Dizzy. Air, I need, outside…"

"It's alright, there's a window next to you, I'll open it. Just stay sitting down, please. I don't think I could carry you if you fall."

Whimsy glanced to the side as Fancy moved to the window in question, getting it open with only a small bit of effort. The rush of cool air was a balm, Whimsy turning in the direction and leaning as much on the chair as their towering frame would allow.

"Just take deep breaths, it'll pass." Fancy's voice came, the faerie's eyes fluttering open for a moment and locking straight on the tailor's gaze. There was a slight flinch that went through Fancy as their eyes met, Whimsy frowning and looking away first.

Something in their face must've leaked to Fancy, because he spoke up again.

"Do you, want to try drinking some more of your tea?"

With nothing else to do, Whimsy did take a sip, the lukewarm liquid still having a soothing edge to it. There wasn't much left, but the whole episode had taken a lot out of the reanimated faerie, leaving them rubbing at their eyes and blinking blearily as they set the mug down.

That eventually turned into them letting their head rest on their folded arms, though they still tried to remain turned towards the window. It was later in the year, but the faint chirping of crickets was still prevalent over the dark nightscape outside. The sound was a calming, and vaguely relieving one, reminding the faerie of those times when they'd lived off the land and spent long nights under the stars.

Before they realized how…different they were. It was definitely an easier time.

They must've dozed off at some point, because a new voice speaking up brought them back to reality.

"Aww, lookit that. All tuckered out."

It was a voice they only somewhat remembered, given that the person in question had been present when they had been brought in to be introduced. A concealingly-dressed figure that had been quietly leaning back in his chair, looking them up and down with a set of luminously colored eyes that flickered through bright, sharp hues. Everything about this otherwise gray shape was nonchalant, from the way their frame settled to the way a similarly colored smile flickered into being over the wrapping covering the lower half of the face, there and gone. After everything Whimsy had been through, it was a different way to be greeted, and they still weren't sure if that was a good thing.

So, carefully, they opened their eyes and turned their head in the direction of the voice, and immediately caught sight of the same figure simply lounging in the chair next to them, even going so far as to tilt it onto its back legs.

"Tagger, please don't break the chairs." Fancy's voice came, the tailor gathering up the mugs before stepping away.

"Alright, alright. No fun," 'Tagger' replied, and performed the somewhat odd feat of dropping the chair back on all four legs with barely any noise. Though, as it landed, those oddly-colored eyes happened to see Whimsy's, and immediately there was a flicker of that smile again.

"Oop, guess somebody is awake. Hey, Whims. Think maybe you wanna catch some 'z's in your own bed?"

On some level, that should have been a good idea, though there was a part of Whimsy that definitely remembered why they'd come down to the kitchen to begin with, and therefore was not so ready to just head up to lie in bed, jumping at more shadows and quite possibly have more nightmares. So, instead of acquiescing, they settled in and closed their eyes, turning their head away.

"No, good here."

"But, you're gonna go back to sleep." Tagger pointed out.

"Maybe I will," Whimsy growled back, still refusing to open their eyes.

"Inna chair."

The rather frank observation did get a more venomous look from the faerie, though Tagger didn't look the least bit worried by the much taller Whimsy staring him down. It was such a strange switch to what would usually happen that they honestly weren't sure what to do, so they ended up breaking off the impromptu contest first to stubbornly shut their eyes, huddling in their arms like it was some sort of impregnable fortress.

And they knew exactly what Tagger thought of that given that the sound of him chuckling to himself wasn't long in following.

"Oh, you are just a treat, aren't you? Can see why Cab liked you."

Cab being the one that had brought them here, that had opened the door to his home. Admittedly, he'd neglected to mention the presence of folks like Tagger, or Bee, but he did mention the fact that he knew two faeries. They'd already made the decision, but it definitely helped things along. Still didn't endear them much to Tagger right now though.

"Bit of a backstory moment here, Whims. I was the first."

"…What?" The reanimated faerie couldn't help asking, their gaze turning back to Tagger just to see if they could spot some falsehood. A bit hard with a mostly concealed face, but for the most part it looked like he was telling the truth.

"The first one Cab made friends with. The very first. We've been paling around together for years! Think after that it was Patches, then we found Bee, then Sunny, and finally Manny. Oh, and then Fancy." Tagger elaborated, just as the tailor walked by and glanced over with a fondly sardonic look.

"Thanks for remembering."

"Welcome. Anyway. Guess we can add you to the list. That's if you plan on sticking around, a'course." Whimsy honestly wasn't sure if the implication that they would just up and leave was insulting or not, and ended up giving off at least half a surly glare which was probably why Tagger continued. "Well, you don't gotta make a decision just yet. It's only your first night. Plenty'a time if you decide you're sick of us an' wanna split."

Yeah, that language really wasn't helping, Whimsy's stare towards Tagger turning a touch more spiteful. Though, instead of being bothered by that, he gave a theatric shiver before slipping back into his seemingly normal, at ease persona.

"Yeesh, if looks could kill… Tone down the eyeballs kid, it's casual conversation." Then a brief flicker of that same, glaringly colored smile appeared over the wrappings covering Tagger's mouth, further conveying the mischievous smirk in his following words. "Though I guess someone does need to go back to bed. A certain grumpy someone."

And back to this again, Whimsy growing fed up enough with the whole encounter to just resettle their head on their arms and close their eyes. Though, in doing so, they completely missed the somewhat conspiratorial, and equally impish grin that Tagger flashed to both Fancy and Bee.

It made the feeling of being swept up into a pair of arms all the more jarring, Whimsy left blinking as Tagger arranged the reanimated faerie in a bridal style carry and spun on his heel for the stairs.

"H-Hey! What're you-?!"

"Wouldn't squirm too much, Whims, the staircase is only so wide."

A very good point, and while Tagger was apparently strong enough to carry someone that definitely was a good few inches taller that didn't mean that the stairs were necessarily going to alter their proportions to make it easier.

So, out of a perceived sense of self-preservation, they scrunched in their towering frame as much as possible, warily eyeing the metallic edges as Tagger easily ascended. After what felt like a harrowing few minutes, they both made it to the upstairs hall, though to Whimsy's surprise and more-than-slight annoyance, Tagger kept going until he was standing next to the door of their room.

"…You can put me down now."

"Whatever you say, Whims," Tagger replied with shadows of that same amused chuckling, to the point where Whimsy had the honest impulse to just scramble away and figure things out from there. Tagger's approach to them may have been novel, but the novelty was quickly turning sour. They weren't a child!

Still, Tagger was both deft and careful, setting them down on their feet and heading past them to a door down at the furthest end of the hallway.

"Night, Whims. See you in the morning."

And he was gone, leaving Whimsy standing like a silent sentinel in the hall. With nothing better to do, they went back into their room, quietly clambering onto the bed and staring at the night sky they could see from their window. The sight brought to mind the window downstairs, from which those familiar sounds had emanated that had provided a brief spark of respite.

Whimsy got up to crack the window open, sliding under their covers and looking in the direction of the small square that looked out to the outside world. The sound of crickets and the rush of wind through the trees accompanied them as the world grayed out, and they slid into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

A knock at the door snapped Whimsy awake, though it only felt like they'd just closed their eyes. Blinking bemusedly, they stared in the direction of the window, seeing a blue sky and trees losing their red and yellow leaves, not quite sure what was going on before the knocking came again.

Yeah, they…probably should answer that, shouldn't they? The thought of which was what teased them up, causing Whimsy to reel to their feet and plod around their bed for the door.

A familiar face was there, a more unique set of features given the black and white, checkerboard-like pattern that was stamped into the other person's skin. Cab was wearing the same primarily white pinstriped suit as yesterday, a not-totally open grin on his face that somewhat disguised his teeth, which Whimsy couldn't help noticing yesterday given that they'd resembled the sharper ones in their own mouth. Cab was tall, lean, though even a six-foot-tall frame didn't have much when compared to Whimsy's eight feet in height, and therefore he'd had to crane his neckless head back a little to look them in the eye, reaching up to hold his boater hat on his head.

Not that Cab seemed to mind, an ever-present grin on his face that sharply contrasted Whimsy's barely awake stare.

"'Ey Whims! Sorry for wakin' you up, but I figured you'd wanna get some breakfast. Ever had pancakes before?"

It took their wakening brain a few moments to figure out, firstly, what had been asked, and secondly, that no. Pancakes were a somewhat foreign concept.

"It's a food…right?"

"Yep, it's a food, a breakfast food. Wanna come down an' try some?"

Their curiosity had been piqued, so they did say yes and made to follow Cab. Whimsy found themselves waking up a little bit more, enough that they couldn't help noticing the confused look Cab passed them just before making it to the stairs.

"…What's wrong?"

"Nothin', nothin', it's just…did you sleep in your overalls?"

Were they being insulted? It was a little hard to tell, though from what they saw Cab wasn't the sort to just poke a beehive just for the sake of it. But, if it was sincere then what was even the point of the question?

"…Yes?"

"We could try givin' you some pajamas if you like."

"What are… pa-jamas? Is that even a word?"

"It is too a word! They're clothes you wear when you're sleepin'."

"People wear special clothes just for when they sleep?"

"Well, yeah, they're meant t'be comfier. Fancy could make you some if you like!" Cab's offer was nice, though Whimsy was decently sure that if they tried to go to the tailor to ask for anything they might end up giving the poor guy a heart attack. Hopefully, they thought as the pair reached the bottom of the stairs, Cab wouldn't bring it up with Fancy because they sure weren't about to.

"What're we talkin' about Fancy makin'?" The sudden presence of Tagger's voice made Whimsy jump, head swinging around to see the whatever-he-was in question leaning on the railing like he might as well have been there all along. Even though Whimsy knew he hadn't been just a moment ago.

"Hi, Tagger! We're talkin' about pajamas! Fancy could make Whimsy some!" Cab replied, as though the sudden appearance just didn't bother him.

"Oh, are we?" Tagger's reply had Whimsy preparing for more demeaning mockery, though they were somewhat thrown when Tagger instead looked them up and down before coming to a decision.

"Green or red. Maybe blue. But not light, definitely darker colors."

"You think so?" Cab's frank question was also somewhat disarming, to the point where Whimsy finally had enough and decided to break in.

"Wait, wait, what are you talking about?"

"If you were gonna get new clothes, those colors would probably look the best on you. Your fur's darker, so lighter stuff would just clash. And make you look pale. Paler. You get what I mean."

"Tagger's an artist!" Cab jumped in, the 'artist' in question looking more flippant.

"You can see my work around town sometimes. Usually at night. I've, ah, 'tagged' a lot of buildings." Tagger's expression clearly hinted at a joke, though as to what the actual joke was, Whimsy couldn't help not knowing. And Tagger didn't seem too primed to explain, muttering about how 'it didn't land' and turning away, heading out to the kitchen.

The kitchen at which Fancy was quietly helping a much taller figure, a similarly patchwork shape that was handing him plates to put on the table. Whimsy had seen this one too, back when they'd first come in. They'd been given a name, they knew, but the sight of a figure even remotely similar to them had caught them off-guard.

Though, as the moments of that first meeting had worn on, it became clear that there were differences.

This other creature, this other faerie, did not seem to need to blink, for starters. Pale blue eyes ringed in black faintly glowing and constantly staring, almost as if their owner had been trying to pick apart Whimsy by sight alone. They, no, she, was also considerably shorter, with the top of her head coming up to the middle of Cab and Tagger's faces. In physical shape, she resembled a doll with a simplified face, jagged-edged mouth and all. But, much like a faerie, she had more animalistic features mixed in, namely small but noticeable claws, legs that resembled a dog's or a cat's, along with two points coming out of the top of her head that resembled a pair of ears. Though, given that her skin appeared to be a sort of canvas material, Whimsy wasn't sure exactly how well they worked. Then again, maybe they did, faerie logic being the way it was. Whimsy had tried to read into it, but the general consensus was that people generally didn't know how faeries worked. At least, not inside and out.

Their creator might've known. But the ship had sailed on asking.

Before Whimsy could even have a hope of sitting down, a pair of fast-moving shapes dashed past their legs, hurrying to the table with the same frenetic urgency of a starving animal that had just been presented with the prospect of food. And they were both chanting 'pancakes' like the apparent breakfast would need some sort of summoning ritual.

"Hold on you two." Fancy's calmer tone hinted that he had no fear of either, despite the fact that one was a literal skeleton but dressed like a child they might see walking down the street, and the other looked like an uplifted wolf puppy, dressed in what looked like some sort of medieval garb. A tail wagged through the seat of the canid creature's pants, mirroring the flicking movements of a pair of batlike wings poking through the wrap covering the upper part of the small body. Somehow Whimsy knew, without being told, that this was another faerie.

Granted, they had the same feeling that they did when first looking at the canvas-made fae, that, just maybe, they might be too different to fit in with another faerie. The fact that this little one was so bouncy, full of life, didn't help that notion any.

They felt like a note in a song that didn't fit, Whimsy's feet already sliding back before an arm at their back caught their attention. A glance to the side revealed that Cab was the culprit, the sharp-toothed grin turning softer at the edges as they gave the reanimated faerie a little nudge; it's okay.

So, taking a deep breath, and feeling like the act of moving their own limbs was a momentous thing, Whimsy put one foot in front of the other and started moving towards the table. They weren't exactly making a lot of noise, even with their larger size, so they weren't sure what exactly made the little faerie-puppy's ears swivel around to them. Her head followed the movement, cherry-red eyes growing wide as she looked up and up…

I should say something, right? Whimsy couldn't helping thinking, the feeling of something squirming in their stomach as they stared down at the faerie-puppy's face, the mask-like fur around her eyes starkly contrasting with that bright scarlet.

"U-Uh, h-"

"You're tall…"

This hadn't come from the faerie-puppy, but from the little skeleton who had turned around while Whimsy had been focused on what exactly they were going to say. The small, child-sized skull had bright lights set in the sockets, glowing blue pinpricks that also stared up and up at Whimsy with the same stunned shock.

"Yep! This is…" Cab started, before trailing off and gesturing with theatric dramatics to Whimsy, inviting them to introduce themselves.

"Whimsy."

"…Whimsy! They'll be stayin' with us ferra bit, so, don't give 'em too much trouble, okay?" Cab continuation may have been meant well, but it seemed to hammer in the notion that Whimsy had done their introduction wrong. Not that they had much experience, but the emotional knife had already been pushed in, and twisted all the more by who exactly they were being introduced to. They didn't exactly have the best luck when it came to people, never mind children…

An image flashed through their mind, of a small child clutching his arm as they tried to skitter away from the faerie, eyes wide and liquid-y at the edges as they stared at Whimsy with nothing short of complete fright.

"Why did you do that? I-I was trying to help you!"

-a limp little figure in their arms, before a CRACK-BOOM rang out and pain blasted through their shoulder-

They blinked, hard, the images vanishing though the sight that greeted them when they opened their eyes didn't seem much easier. Both the little skeleton and the faerie-puppy were still staring up at them with frankly unreadable, worrying awe, and Whimsy felt fresh out of possible conversation. Thankfully Cab came to their rescue, though the reanimated faerie felt like a coward as they accepted his reminder of pancakes as an excuse to get away from the pair, and actually sit down.

However, the trials for the day were not done, as the one that slid in to sit on Whimsy's other side was the other faerie, the taller one with the staring eyes. It didn't help that once the dishes were all laid out, this faerie was taking over the actual doling out of the pancakes, and while Whimsy was trying their best to mirror what they saw the others do, it didn't keep them from feeling a twinge of nerves when those unblinking, unreadable eyes turned to them.

It seemed to take an inordinate while of them staring at each other for the other faerie to figure out that Whimsy needed a little help, a much softer toned, feminine voice speaking up and somehow very audible to them despite one of the children laughing about something nearby.

"Did you want one pancake or two?"

"…Can I get three?" Whimsy's request was answered as she doled out three pancakes, though they couldn't help the brief glance at the plates around, mentally doing the math as to whether or not they'd taken too much. It seemed fine, but their brief spate of figuring was interrupted as they realized that the other faerie had not stopped looking at them.

"…Wh-What is it?"

"You never mentioned your name."

Though the specific language wasn't used, this still felt like a request for a name, and not in just the 'what is your name' kind of fashion. Whimsy had certainly not forgotten that this was a faerie, a faerie that, even with their more placid demeanor, probably held to at least some of the old standards when it came to behavior. So, squaring their shoulders a little, they replied.

"You can call me Whimsy. I don't think I got your name either?"

"Do you want to know it?"

Wasn't that why they were asking? Maybe they should have phrased themselves differently…

"…Yes?"

"Then you can call me Patches." The frankness with which the words were delivered made it hard to tell if the other faerie was upset or angry about what they'd said, Whimsy feeling that uncomfortable, cornered-animal-type squirming settle in their gut as they maintained eye contact. Patches was the one to look away first, turning to her two pancakes and leaving Whimsy to awkwardly consider their own three. The pancakes themselves were warm, the smell more than appetizing though the sight of the faerie-puppy trying to slice hers with her fork while partially shoving them in her mouth caught their attention briefly. Fancy's efforts to get her to use the knife something that Whimsy paid close attention to. While there was a surlier, more combative part of them that groused who cares how we eat it, a part of them couldn't help pointing out that if they wanted to avoid attention, they'd at least have to give some semblance of good manners.

Though when they finally tasted the pancakes for the first time, Whimsy couldn't help the immediate impulse to scarf them down. They were good, the one with the little dots of blue in it quickly discerned to have blueberries and wasn't that just a completely welcome surprise.

Non-sarcastically meant. At this point they were seriously considering asking for more, though a quiet chuckle from Tagger cut through the euphoria.

"You enjoyin' the pancakes, Whims?"

Of course, their mouth was full when he asked, leading to them throwing the neon-eyed figure a glare as they considered the notion of whether or not they could rush through swallowing this. Deciding that no, they wanted to savor the pancakes, Whimsy instead made to turn their attention back to their food, and ended up having another distraction in the form of Cab proffering what looked like some kind of jug.

"Syrup's real good on those. Here, give it a try."

Whimsy watched with a growing-less-wary sense of curiosity as the golden…liquid (?) was poured onto what remained of their pancakes. And a hesitant taste turned into pure bliss as Cab had been proven completely right. The rest of the pancakes were quickly scarfed down, though a quick glance around the table showed that there were other things to pick at. They recognized the small bowl of berries, snagging a few and quickly eating those, though the one with the bacon going too quickly for them to have a hope of getting anything and with everyone reaching for some they weren't too sure they wanted to bother.

But, just as Whimsy had dropped back to more or less consider their empty plate, Cab reached over and placed down a few strips of bacon. At their surprised look, he pointed to his other side, to where the little skeleton boy gave a bright wave to go with his fixed grin. Whimsy's lips twitched, though the sight of the relatively normal-looking teeth brought to mind their own, sharp-toothed grin, and they kept their smile small. It didn't seem to deter the little skeleton at all though, the small bones clattering as the child jittered around with pure happiness at the simple show of gratitude.

It did help, a little, though Whimsy found themselves drifting towards a silent backdrop, more listening to the words of the others rather than contributing. They didn't think they would have very much to say anyway. At least, not things you said when everyone else was talking, laughing, telling jokes, and overall being far more light-hearted.

Was this what it was like? To be…normal? To have a home and a family? It was vaguely reminiscent of what they saw through the cracks in the walls of the blind woman's family, the strangeness of the current cast aside, and it made the role of the watcher feel all the more fitting and familiar. Safe.

"Whimsy," someone started, the faerie feeling like that veneer of security just tumbled down around them as they were yanked into the conversation. The source turned out to be the nearly silent Patches on Whimsy's other side, their eyes yanking to her like she'd brandished a knife. "Have you ever done this sort of thing before?"

Their brain stuttered out a little, because they knew the answer and also had the very certain knowledge that perhaps telling the whole group in any detail how that went likely wouldn't end well.

"I, uh, yes. A long time ago."

Not so long though, the reanimated faerie avoiding everyone's eyes as they drew inward, closing off from the rest of the group. It didn't stop them from hearing the somewhat awkward pause in their wake, the conversation stuttering to life with some sort of joke from Tagger that blurred in their ears. They didn't really feel like paying attention much anymore, the earlier, calmer feeling gone by the wayside as things seemed to move on around them. Before they knew it, everyone was getting up, doing their respective parts to gather up the dishes as Cab took over the washing of said dishes.

It felt like the rest of the group moved on like a hurricane, taking their warmth and energy with them. Whimsy was left clumsily fumbling along in the aftermath, glancing around in askance before handing their plate off to Cab who'd practically all but entreated the reanimated faerie to give it over.

Just as the porcelain left their fingers, a tug on their overalls caught their attention, Whimsy looking around before dropping their gaze even further, and finally catching sight of the faerie-puppy staring up at them.

"Y'smell really funny." Her voice had such an odd accent to it that it took Whimsy a few moments to realize that the words weren't altogether flattering.

"Uh…"

"Y'smell like a lotta different things. It's weird."

"Uh, Sunny…" Cab tried to interject, though he was still up to his elbows in the dishes from breakfast.

"They smell like apples, Cab!" Sunny insisted, before closing her eyes and taking in another deep breath through her nose. "An' trees. An' dirt. An'…"

Another inhale, and Sunny's eyes opened again, looking more puzzled.

"…Lightnin'. You smell like dead things an' live things. Which one are you s'pposed t'be? Are you like Manny or are you like me?"

It felt very much like the child was asking the question 'are you alive or are you dead?'. It was one that Whimsy couldn't help asking themselves sometimes, especially given the fact that the only side of the spectrum they'd ever see were the people in the villages, the towns. The very much alive, and the dead things were lying in their worm-infested, decomposing beds. Seeing Manny was definitely a first, but Whimsy knew that they weren't the same as the little skeleton.

"I, I don't know. I don't think I'm…either…"

"Why don't you know? Wasn't anyone there t'tell you?"

No, but the word wouldn't come to their mouth, as it came with ranting about how their own creator hadn't wanted them, had taken one look at them and fled, leaving Whimsy to deal with the world alone. Even with distance, and cares, that still stung worse than physical wounds. But, as they tried to figure out how best to answer, Sunny seemed to come to her own conclusion, reaching out from her perch and pressing a hand to Whimsy's front.

"…It's okay. No one told me either. But if you're smart, you won't need tellin'. You'll figure it out. That's what Tagger said. But Patches said I could ask an' so did Cab an' Fancy. Maybe they can tell which one you are." Sunny said, with the gravitas of someone delivering a prime solution, punctuated in the conciliatory pat they gave the leg of Whimsy's overalls. It was the sort of thing that they really didn't have any words for, but in lieu of just sitting there like a dullard Whimsy did try to add something to the conversation.

"That's…that's some nose you have."

…Didn't mean that it didn't sound any less lame to their ears. Though, thankfully Sunny didn't seem too off-put by the switch. If anything, she seemed proud that Whimsy had pointed it out.

"I've got the best nose. Ask anyone."

"It's the best. Can find a rabbit in the whole forest." Cab pointed out, Sunny grinning happily at the support.

"Yep!"

But, even with the lighter switch, the question that the little faerie-pup had asked stuck in Whimsy's mind, beating like a drum.

Are you alive or are you dead?

It was one that, for all their efforts to wrangle an answer, they couldn't quite manage it.

They ended up retreating to the couch again, settling down on the leather fabric with a quiet sigh. Was there a right way that that was supposed to go? It hadn't felt right at all…

The faint sound of someone walking caught their attention, their head turning to see Cab approaching, a somewhat nerve-edged smile flickering over his face as he came near.

"'Ey, Whimsy. You doin' alright?"

"Yeah, fine," they mumbled, looking away to consider their knees and feet yet again. It seemed to provoke something in Cab, his tone changing from moderately upbeat to quietly apologetic.

"…Hey, just wanted t'say sorry. Forgot the kids can be a lil' inquisitive sometimes, realized that y'prob'ly didn't want t'deal with that just after wakin' up. And don't worry about Sunny, she's just curious. An', hey, Manny seems t'like you."

Which was, reasonable, and a little bolstering, but Whimsy couldn't help a recriminating thought from slipping out.

"…Don't think most people would want their kids being around me…"

"Hey, hey no, none of that now," Cab suddenly murmured, sitting down on the table in front of the sofa just to be within the reanimated faerie's field of vision. "Whimsy, no one here thinks you're a bad person, y'hear?"

Whole mobs of people felt differently, Cab, Whimsy wanted to say, though the more biting thought wouldn't quite make it to their tongue. Instead, something a bit more lame slid out, the faerie letting their chin drop even more as their shoulders rolled inward.

"…yeah, sure…"

"Whimsy, look at me? Please?" Ordinarily, they might've rankled a little at the thought of anyone telling them what to do. But Cab's behavior, his tone, everything felt like he was actually trying to be nice, like he thought of them as a person. So, even though they didn't quite relinquish their hangdog, beaten-down demeanor, Whimsy did look up to meet Cab's eyes. The look they saw there was enough to give them pause, only having seen something like it once before. Beaming sincerity and emotion, to the point where the eyes glimmered faintly at the edges. Cab's hands came up to grasp Whimsy's shoulders, the touch only getting the faerie to look away for the briefest instant before their gaze immediately snapped back to Cab's, somehow sensing that what he was about to say was something that he wanted them to properly hear and absorb.

"Trust me, I know. This is hard. And it's okay to be freaked out about it. But, Whimsy, no one here thinks you're a bad person. And, if you want to, you don't have to be a bad person. You don't have to be. You can be just as good as anyone else, just as good a person as you want to be. Nobody can force you t'make a choice, only you do that. And, Whims, I don't know a whole lot, I'll admit it. But, anythin' anyone said, anythin' anyone did to you, it's not your fault, okay? That's on them, what they do, what they say. Not on you."

It was nearly everything they'd wanted to hear, but somehow, there was doubt. There was a part of them that couldn't help looking for falsehoods and tricks, that thought that what Cab was saying couldn't apply to them. And maybe it didn't. It wasn't as though Cab knew about what happened to the blind woman's house, or that child's arm, or a similarly patchwork shape underneath a sheet…

"…Why do you care? Why, why does this…matter so much to you?" It was an honest question given how suddenly Cab had come in and just started, offering them things like friendship and a place to stay. Though while Whimsy couldn't fault themselves entirely for asking it, a part of them couldn't help feeling just a little like they'd done something wrong as Cab's hands fell away, his eyes glancing around as though for help before he just seemed to decide to come out with it.

"…I, I've been there, before, Whims. Maybe not exactly where you are, but…I've been somewhere near it. And, in a lotta cases, what I'm tellin' you was, I didn' exactly have that many friends to start out. Pretty much none, actually." Cab's eyeline dropped, his whole, lanky frame drooping as though held down by weights. But he didn't stay that way for long, quietly looking back up to meet Whimsy's eyes though there was still a careworn shadow in his face as he smiled. "Kinda, y'know, when you see someone goin' through somethin' similar, makes you wanna stick up for people like that. T'help them out. Heh, sorry, prob'ly not makin' much sense."

"No, I, I think I get it." Whimsy replied, feeling a faint, nearly involuntary grin tugging at the corners of their mouth. "Thanks…Cab. Thank you."

"Welcome. Also, Whims, we're goin' out, by the way. Just takin' a walk. Wanna come with?" As Cab spoke, his hand reached out to Whimsy, gloved palm up with the fingers a little outstretched. There, if they wanted. But...

More crowds, more people, more feeling out of place.

"...No." They should say something else, right? "No thank you."

Though there was a slight downturn to Cab's smile, he nodded in that understanding sort of way before heading back into the kitchen.

"Okay. I'll see you later, okay, Whims?"

"…Sure." Whimsy more murmured back, a faltering feeling in their stomach that Cab probably couldn't hear them. The thought that the group would have to come back through the room, and would therefore have to walk past them, forced Whimsy up and back to the spiral staircase. Not to mention, Bee was right beyond the door, and if he were to come back…

Well-meaning or not, Whimsy didn't want to deal with really anyone right now.

They were nearly to their room when they saw a faint ribbon of light playing across the floor, from a door that was a little further down the hallway than theirs. A wary sort of curiosity pricked at Whimsy's conscious mind, the reanimated faerie skirting down the hall with a stealth that was a little disarming given their eight-foot-frame.

It was a skill well honed, though, and put them right next to the door in question. And, with the way it opened, they got a rather good view of the room beyond. It was a space filled with color, different reels of fabric here and there, gatherings of sewing material, a rack full of completed and partially completed clothing. There was a desk directly across from the door, a familiar figure there and quietly at work. Fancy was bowed over what looked like a mess of warm colored fabrics, hands a constant blur of motion as he carefully stitched one of the seams. Whimsy honestly could not have said what it was, both because of the angle and just by looking, they were hardly any sort of expert on clothing.

But, the more they watched, the more they found the motions, and the overall atmosphere of the room, soothing. Perhaps it was the fact that it was quiet, but warm, and perhaps it also had something to do with the stitches running through their own frame, but somehow it was enough to keep Whimsy rooted there, quietly watching, for what felt like a good few minutes, their eyes quietly roving over everything from the clothes themselves to other things scattered about the room.

On one of the upper shelves of the desk, standing out because it was different from the other nooks and crannies filled with sewing supplies, were a bunch of what looked like random objects. Small stones, what looked like some sort of porcelain figure of someone dancing, an apparent amulet with a piece of some kind of crystal, a small mechanic's wrench, and a folded piece of paper with a smaller, colored piece pinned to it.

They were too far away to really look at any of the other objects, but the wrench immediately brought to mind Bee. Had Bee given Fancy that? Were the other objects all gifts too?

With the added layer of detail, the view into the room almost became a mirage, something that Whimsy could almost imagine themselves stepping into and claiming as their own. Someplace warm and inviting, with objects here and there that had their own stories, their own place.

Their own home…

Though unfortunately, the spell was broken with a too-loud creak coming from the hallway, Whimsy not sure if they'd accidentally shifted or not but seeing Fancy pause and make to look up. Without thinking, they turned tail and tried to hurry back down the hallway as quietly as they could, closing the door of their bedroom behind them.

For a brief instant they stood there, listening, before realizing that there was light coming in through the window behind them, which would illuminate the fact that they were standing there. Stepping back, Whimsy moved closer to the window, and happened to catch sight of movement in the yard below.

Out of instinct, they drew back, but it still didn't mask the sight of Cab, Tagger, Patches, Sunny, and Manny all heading off for their walk. The younger children skirted around the older three, clearly in good spirits with Cab more readily following along. Tagger and Patches were going at a more sedate pace, though were clearly part of the group. Despite the strangeness of the people, it was much like what Whimsy had watched from a distance.

What would it have looked like if they had gone too?

It felt foolish, not to mention horribly vulnerable, to just stand there staring out the window, so Whimsy instead turned to the bed, still rumpled from the nightmare-fraught sleep of last night. It looked just as lonely and forlorn as they felt, the reanimated faerie letting their eight-foot-tall frame thump onto the mattress. They didn't want to sleep, for a multitude of reasons, but, really…they had nothing else to do. Nowhere else to go.

It was…frustrating. Wasn't this supposed to be better? Were they doing this right? Was there a right way? They didn't want to go on the walk. Cab hadn't tried to force them, but he'd seemed… not bothered, but maybe a little put out. Had he wanted them to come?

But, they hadn't wanted to. Should they have agreed anyway?

The thoughts were more maddening than helpful, and getting tumultuous enough that Whimsy forcibly cut them off with an irritated growl as they pressed their face into the pillow.

Of course, cutting off their own air really didn't help much, so after a few seconds the reanimated faerie quietly pulled their face away and looked to the side instead, fixating on the blue and the tops of the trees they could see through the window. They had the thought to open the window again, to hear the sounds of the nature outside given that so far, it had been the only comfort. Though the thought was in their head, and they could easily picture getting up to do it, for some reason, they couldn't make themselves move. Instead, what happened was that Whimsy rolled onto their side, eyes lazily focusing on the trees outside as they gently swayed in a breeze.

Time melted by like that, and they easily could have slipped into a doze that thankfully was too light for dreams. But, as they flopped onto their back, a knock came from the door.

It brought to mind Cab, though in a twist, the one standing there when Whimsy opened the door was Tagger.

"Hey, Whims!"

"Hi." Whimsy wasn't about to force more than a politely neutral tone, though Tagger's voice still kept that calm, devil-may-care lilt that showed he wasn't the least bit intimidated by anything, never mind the eight-foot-tall faerie staring him down.

"Missed you on the walk, but Sunny and Manny wanted to get you some stuff. Think you might be able to come out and play next time?" They weren't sure how it happened, but somehow Tagger moved past them, setting down a few objects on the dresser across from the bed. Two rocks, one lighter colored and with rounded edges, the other jet black with sharp angles. As Tagger placed down the little souvenirs from the hike, it struck Whimsy just how plain and bare the place was. Fancy's room had been littered with personal touches, but for them the only thing in the room was the furniture.

Well, it wasn't like they'd set up shop anywhere long enough to really acquire things of their own. The fact that they had an actual bed still felt like a marvel. Tagger was currently sitting on it but it still counted.

Still, Tagger's tone, and words, rankled enough that now Whimsy actually felt a rebuke coming to their tongue.

"I'm not a child, you know."

"…Funny you should say that. T'me, pretty much everyone in this house is young. Well, younger." Tagger's tone had softened a little as he turned back, the look in those oddly-colored, glaring eyes easing down to something a little less blinding. It brought to mind the conversation that Whimsy had sort of participated in, where Tagger had divulged that he had been the first one that Cab had befriended, and more or less kicked off the formation of this strange group. Perhaps then would have been a good time to actually dig in and find out more, but, well, they were here now. No time like the present, right?

"…How old are you?"

"Rude." Given that it was more than a little hard to read Tagger's face, Whimsy couldn't help the immediate apology that leapt to their tongue. It didn't help that Tagger's body language could have been either mock-affronted or real-affronted, his arms crossed and upper body turned away with his head back a little. Had they said something offensive, it wasn't like they would know…

"I, wait, I wasn't…"

Thankfully, Tagger seemed to get that facing in the opposite direction wasn't helpful, turning around and actually facing the reanimated faerie as he replied.

"No, no, it's okay. I'm kidding, Whims. Don't be so serious. And, honestly? Couldn't give you an exact, numerical answer. I just know that, in terms of age, I pretty much rank ahead of everyone, Fancy included."

The notion was honestly a bit of a shocking one, though it stoked to life Whimsy's curiosity. And, if Tagger hadn't been too bothered by that one question…

"What exactly are you?"

"Well…you know that feeling you get when you're out at night, alone, and you keep having the feeling that someone's behind you even though you're pretty sure no one's there?"

"…Yeah?"

"That's kinda in the same ballpark as me. 'Course, you might be a little more familiar with the rest of the family. The Call of Cthulhu mean anythin' t'you?"

"…No, not really."

"Don't worry about it. For reference's sake, think of it like the blackness between the stars, or like when you're swimmin' in deep water an' just happen to look down at all that nothin'. Just, all the stuff out there that's too big to know that might keep you up at night if you think about it too much because, as it turns out, there's either no answer, or there's one you might not like all that much. Point bein', there's a reason I keep all this paraphernalia on."

Well, that was something of a revelation, even though Whimsy felt they really could only guess at exactly what Tagger was eluding to. Something unknowable, something too old to really pin down a proper age to, something that couldn't even show its true face or form around anyone. How on Earth did Cab even befriend something like that?!

"So, now that you know somethin' about me, can I ask somethin' about you, Whims?"

Seemed fair, though they weren't too certain they'd like where this was going.

"…Sure."

"Y'can sit down by the way, not gonna bite. Alright, my question is…where've you been, exactly? I can tell you're a faerie, at least on the outside and before whatever happened there, but somethin' like you doesn't just sprout up overnight."

"…I, I was, I've been traveling. Around. I…I spent some time in a village, a good ways north of here." Whimsy haltingly replied, sinking down to sit next to Tagger.

"Yeah? Spent a while up there?"

"Yeah. I, I was staying with a family…they didn't really know I was staying with them." This felt like the start of a chain reaction, Whimsy fully aware that this was, while not the worst of their crimes, a good lead into the destruction they'd wrecked.

"Guessin' the family might not have reacted well to their house guest, huh?"

"…One did. There was an older woman who lived there. She was blind. I thought if I could make my case to her, then, maybe they'd let me stay…"

"Didn't work out?"

"No. Her family came back, and they saw me, and chased me away, and when I'd gotten back they'd left and I-" Fire, fire had happened as the little cottage that they'd been so fond of burned up around them like some portion of Hell had risen to devour it. Whimsy had been angry, true, but there'd been something so soul-chilling in the sight that it had sapped them of their anger like a bucket of water to the face. Their efforts to put out the flames had ended in burns, burns that hadn't stopped stinging until they'd been able to douse it with water from the well and despite their best efforts, the whole thing had gone up. They'd had the thought in the back of their mind before, but especially now as they relived the memory, they couldn't help wondering what happened to the family. Did they come back? Did they see what the faerie had done?

"…I burned their house down."

"You don't sound proud of that."

"I wasn't, I'm not, I just…I got angry." A deep sigh, before Whimsy went with the first thought knocking about in their stitched-together head. "Doesn't matter anymore. Wouldn't have worked."

"Maybe you didn't find the right people."

"There aren't any right people. Nobody cares about me."

"You sure?" Tagger's voice had started to take on that semi-teasing lilt again, the reanimated faerie finding that they had barely any patience left for that nonsense, thank you.

"…Look, whatever you want to say, just come out and say it."

"Don't know the specifics, but Cab didn't have to say he'd be your friend, right? Fancy didn't have to let you stay in his house. I didn't have to carry you back up to your room last night. But we did. Kids didn't have to get you presents either. But they did. Know your experience is a little skewed, but…what'dya have to lose in tryin' again, Whims? Besides, you're not dealin' with some run of the mill, salt of the earth types. We're all pretty weird. Think I just demonstrated my own case decently well. And, if you're runnin' around with a crowd of folks that're weird, d'you really stand out?"

It was a good point, Whimsy going quiet as they considered it. They were, unique, for sure, and they were pretty sure that there wasn't anyone else in the world like them, but, considering what they were learning about their new housemates, maybe someone exactly like them wasn't needed.

"We're a stubborn bunch, Whims. You ain't gettin' rid of us that easy." The words, in and of themselves, were something to think on, but what grabbed Whimsy's attention was the fact that Tagger, did something. Made some sort of motion like he was going to reach out to the reanimated faerie, but as Whimsy stared and leaned away, Tagger pulled back.

"Alrighty then, suit yourself," he murmured, almost sounding dismissive. Though as Tagger made it to the door, he glanced back to the faerie. "And, if and when you're ready, c'mon down. We'd like to see you sometime."

They'd all like to see them. There was nothing in Tagger's voice that suggested a falsehood, which made the knee-jerk, resulting thought that no, no one wanted to see them, feel very much like a double-edged sword. Keeping anyone else away, but cutting deep somewhere inside.

"Oh, by the way, Whims," Tagger spoke up, twisting around in a way that didn't look altogether right as the neon pie-cut eyes glimmering from underneath the hood glanced back at the reanimated faerie. "Left you a surprise on one of your gifts, but you gotta turn the lights off and close the curtains to see it. Anyway, see you 'round!"

And with that, he was gone, leaving a somewhat confused Whimsy in his wake. Bemusedly their eyes turned to the little stones that were now sitting innocently on their dresser, the faerie even resorting to going over and picking them up for a closer look. Left something on them? What the heck did that mean?

Though there was the added stipulation of the lights, Whimsy quietly putting the stones back down before going to the light switch and then crossing the room to get the curtains.

It was when they turned back to the stones that they saw the glimmers of light, almost like paint, dotting the surface of the darker one. But it was only when they got close and picked it up that the reanimated faerie could read what had been scrawled over the rock.

A simple message, written in brilliantly neon colors with ever letter being a different shade: Hi Whimsy!

And a sort of design underneath it that, as they turned it around, looked like a small, simplified face winking at them.

It was such a small thing, the kids not having to think to get them a present but Tagger also had not had to add in the extra message. But it felt both lightening, and a little worrying. Like Whimsy was standing on the edge of a precipice and couldn't see the bottom of the pit they were looking to jump into. They'd seen groups of people, both friends and presumably families, that looked to have that perfect happiness.

It had been a strong lure, as perfect and content as it looked, to tease Whimsy from the trees and pique them to try talking to the people they saw. But it had never worked. Even when the other person couldn't see how they looked, it never worked.

Whimsy was weird, Whimsy was wrong, Whimsy was disgusting, a monster, unwanted, not supposed to be…

In a snap, they realized that they had started to squeeze the little stone, and immediately loosened their grip with a worried grimace. The present, and the message written upon it, were thankfully unharmed, Whimsy looking down at it for a moment before carefully placing it back on the dresser.

Their attention was grabbed by a brief shuffling noise in the hallway, Whimsy wondering for a brief instant if Tagger had come back to see if his gift had been warmly received. The door had been left open a crack, a few strides taking them over to it and a brief nudge opening it enough for them to look out into the hall.

Which was empty. Whimsy peered left, then right, seeing no one.

They pulled back into their room, thoughts turning to what Tagger had said before. Maybe, maybe they would try to go downstairs in a little bit. Just to maybe explore the place a little more, though they couldn't help a mental block on the notion of what they would do if they actually encountered anyone. Maybe better to tackle that in the moment rather than try to plan ahead, planning ahead didn't seem to do them much good…

Whimsy ended up being so engrossed in their own thoughts, that they missed seeing the door to Fancy's workroom, which had been open a crack, surreptitiously slid shut as they returned to their own room.

It took a few hours before Whimsy felt ready, heading down to the landing and ending up a little relieved by how quiet the main area was. Bee, it seemed, had left, and though the sight was calming, they were still on-edge given that just because the more-visible car had apparently stepped out didn't mean that the others weren't here somewhere.

Though, thankfully, at least from the higher-up vantage point, Whimsy could safely say that they couldn't outright see anyone wandering around in near the couch below, or in the kitchen. Listening around revealed that things were quiet, though a quick glance to the windows drew Whimsy's eye to the fact that the sky had gone gray, the first of a rainfall pattering against the glass.

It did kill the fleeting impulse to actually wander around outside, though Whimsy was loath to just return to their room. Not after they'd come this far. Maybe, even with the possibility of someone coming along, they could just sit for a while.

So, with that thought in mind, they slipped the rest of the way down the stairs, walking past the little kitchen area to the sort-of living room.

It was a good thing that Whimsy had gotten into the habit of watching where they were putting their feet, otherwise they might've traipsed all over the two little forms simply sprawled on the living room floor. As such, they simply stood there for a moment, a foot handing in the air as they stared. Sunny was predictable enough, the little canine-gargoyle faerie arranged like a sleeping puppy, but Manny was…more interesting, to say the least. At least, Whimsy was fairly sure that when things looked all disjointed and, spread out like that, they were supposed to be dead. Actually dead, but then again, Manny being a little skeleton, maybe the rules were different?

Either way, this was a little more weird than they felt equipped to handle, especially from children, so the reanimated faerie turned on their heel. Thankfully, Patches was just coming out of the back room, though the other faerie's lighter tread meant that Whimsy nearly ended up running into her when they peeked out. Immediately both recoiled, Whimsy with an apology on their lips, though they ended up truncating it, given that Patches had that ever-present serene look as she considered them. The kind that barely seemed to get ruffled, it was almost maddening given that it made it difficult to tell what she was really thinking.

But it would be…wrong, to simply judge the other faerie for a trick of her demeanor, something not able to be really helped, so Whimsy simply bit their tongue and stayed quiet on their internal thoughts. Instead, they turned, gesturing to the scene in the living room as they tried their best to convey the issue at hand.

"I just, I found them like this, is Manny supposed to be…?"

Patches peeked around them, pale, unblinking eyes immediately lighting on the slumbering pair. Perhaps it was relieving, in a way, that the cloth-made faerie didn't immediately blanch, or scream, but that calm serenity was a little maddening. This was precisely why they'd been so slow to integrate with anyone, Fancy was easy to read, Cab was too earnest to have ulterior motives, the children were children, Bee was a demon, if not an easy-going one, and Tagger was…Tagger. Whimsy still had yet to figure that one out, but at least he had more visible moods, unlike Patches who seemed to skate through life with a strange sort of distant coolness.

"This happens sometimes," she was saying, lightly skirting over with barely a noise. "You can just pick up Sunny. I'll show you what to do with Manny. Just watch my hands."

"If you just give him a little help, he'll come together on his own." To illustrate her point her gentle motions of picking up the somewhat discombobulated skeleton caused Manny's bones to jolt back into place, Patches carefully scooping up the small monster and tucking him close, like Whimsy had seen mothers handle their children. Manny himself barely woke up, automatically snuggling in to Patches's shoulder, though the reanimated faerie felt themselves bristle as those unblinking eyes turned to them.

"You can try picking up Sunny. As long as she's comfortable, it should be fine."

Though there was a part of them that bristled at the notion, especially since Sunny could easily fit in an arm, Whimsy still knelt, reaching carefully out to the small, winged body. It was only after they'd carefully plucked the wolf puppy-like faerie off the ground that they realized that Sunny had been sleeping on top of something. It was a sheave of paper, along with some pencils, though what drew Whimsy's attention was what was on the paper.

"Sunny likes to draw," Patches said by way of explanation as Whimsy picked up the paper, though something in their expression caught her eye. "Is something wrong?"

"I, she drew me."

And it was so, Whimsy able to more feel than hear Patches coming around to look, but for the moment they had no space left for their knee-jerk guardedness. They only had eyes for this, picture. This child's creation that had them as a part of the group, standing under a bright sun and blue sky, amongst what looked like long, yellow grass. Strangely enough, Tagger was the tallest of the group, Whimsy competing with Cab for second-tallest, and what was probably Bee looked like more of a jumble of red and black than a proper car, Sunny, Manny, and Fancy looking similarly blobbish, but it was all recognizable. And they were a part of it.

"Patches told us," Sunny spoke up through a yawn, having woken as Whimsy had picked her up, ", 'bout the fields she used to live in, when she scared the crows. She said it was like a dream, when it was sunny, and the winds blew through the fields. It's her best place. She said I could use it. Wanted you to be there too. No more bad people, just us. All of us."

"Wh-Why…?" Whimsy forced out, their mouth feeling very dry as something about the word, or perhaps the emotions behind it, stuck in their throat. But Sunny merely looked up at them with her cherry red eyes, beaming that sort of empathetic heaviness that most children didn't have. Maybe Whimsy might've considered it more, though right now, their emotions were bubbling up their throat, coming out in a soft sob at what had simply fallen in their lap.

"If I had known…I would never have given you breath!"

"You're an object of shame, without soul or a name!"

"You…no place but…THE GRAVE…"

"No," Cab had said the other night, when they'd first met. "You don't need him! You don't need someone that don't want you! He's hurt you, cut him out of your life! If you need somewhere to go, you can come with me, with us."

"You're a little late offering me friendship," Whimsy had replied, a sneer curling their lip as they glared at the bizarre…thing, a creature dressed very much like a man, that stood before them. But, a strange thing was happening, had happened. Even as Cab had spoken, tears were gathering at the corners of his eyes, like he'd meant every word of what he'd been about to say.

"But I'm doin' it. Late or on time, the point is in the doin' of the thing! An', if'n you saw someone who you know felt as lonely and as hurtin' as you do now, would you just stand by? Knowin' what you know, and havin' been through what you've been through, would you, would you just let them suffer?"

They hadn't an answer, but when Cab had held out his hand, they'd taken it with only a faint bit of hesitation. Cab had tried more to steer them along, but the way he'd been keeping a grip on Whimsy's hand made them wonder if he thought they might bolt if he let them go. But then he'd turned to them and said something that had been sitting quietly at the back of Whimsy's mind.

"Everythin' in life is a choice, an' while you've gotten one hell of a raw deal, you don't hav'ta stay there, you hear? You won't be alone, not with us."

A choice. Whether they'd been aware of the significance or not, they'd made a choice. And it had brought them something small, but heartfelt, and precious. This, not small, but simple life that accepted them so readily as one of their own. That accepted them as…

"Whimsy, it's okay, I just meant that we're family now, see? Patches, Cab, Tagger, Bee, Fancy, Manny, me, you, we're all a family now." Sunny's voice trembled with upset, though Whimsy felt completely unable to answer. But, like a calm wind, a ray of sun in darkness, Patches's calm, whispery quiet voice spoke up.

"I think Whimsy needs a hug, Sunny. Can you give them a hug? One of your very best?"

The small arms wrapping around what they could of their frame snapped the last, delicate thread holding back the emotional floodgates, Whimsy doing their best not to crush the smaller faerie as they cradled her, and cried. Deep, heaving sobs that came from somewhere far down inside as a wail stayed locked behind a set of clenched teeth, their stitched together frame feeling like it might shake itself to pieces from the maelstrom raging inside.

We're a family…

"No soul or a name!"

You don't have to stay there…

"Corruption of biology…"

You won't be alone…

The feeling of another small frame, this one bonier, coming to hug them caused Whimsy to start, wide eyes finding the equally tumultuous ones of Manny. They must've woken up the little skeleton, but before they could even think to apologize the boney little arms were wrapping around their own arm, Manny tucking in in his own effort.

Whimsy looked up just in time to see Patches kneel in front of them, something beaming through as they made eye contact. That calm serenity swirled with a compassion that loomed as large as the open sky, Patches quietly reaching out to the reanimated faerie, and carefully brushing their tears away with a hand made of course cloth. They were quickly replaced by more, though for the moment Whimsy only bowed their head, shoulders helplessly shivering as they tried their best to ride out the storm.

What they weren't expecting was for Patches to reach out, gently easing them to lean into her shoulder. Her hands, with their faint suggestion of needle-like claws, carefully combed through the topmost layer of their curly mane. Their head rested against Patches's shoulder, folded down enough that even their eight-foot-tall frame could rest comfortably while still not crushing the two children doing their best to give the overwrought faerie a hug.

A soft hum caught Whimsy's attention, Patches's whispery tones rumbling low in her ribcage before it blossomed into a lulling song.

"You'll remember me, when the west wind moves, 'pon the fields of barley, you'll forget the sun in his jealous sky, as we walk in fields of gold…"

The 'best place', a field of pure gold that rippled in the movements of wind like something alive. But peacefully so, like the soft rise and fall of breath. It felt so antithetical to what they had known before, the shouting, the strife, the loneliness, the abandonment…

Though there was a part of Whimsy that wanted to push back, to withdraw until they felt safe, they found they couldn't. It felt so foreign, and yet there was a part of them that couldn't help staying right where they were. It was also the part of them that seemed to be the center of the emotional storm, this screaming, wailing, crying thing that grasped at the physical comfort like a lifeline. Patches's voice blurred in their ears, a lulling hum as their mind moved away from the images of darkness, lightning, mobs, screaming…and to a field of softly waving gold.

The thought caused a soft, near-involuntary sob to rattle through Whimsy's frame, Patches briefly breaking in her song to murmur some soothing words that was probably meant to be nonsense, but somehow, Whimsy couldn't take it that way.

"Shh, shh, we're here, we're here…"

A few moments of that, and carefully rocking them a little, and the scarecrow faerie went back to her tune. Whimsy listened, holding onto it like it was a part of the stitches running throughout their skin as the world dissolved into an exhaustion-dulled haze.

"I never made promises lightly, and there have been some that I've broken, but I swear in the days still left, we'll walk in fields of gold…"

"Hey, Whimsy…" A voice spoke, piercing the calm stupor that had drifted in. In the moment, Whimsy had no other thought apart from that they particularly liked where they were and didn't want to move, burying their face in the material as they tried to get away from whoever this was.

"G'way…"

"Would, but you're kinda pinning Patches to the floor. Wanna try gettin' up on the couch, probably be comfier?" At first, Cab's words were confusing, Whimsy's eyes blinking groggily open before they realized that, well, he was right. Turning their head brought Patches's face into view, the calm, even stare a little softer as she looked down at the reanimated faerie. With a somewhat sheepish flutter in their chest, they realized that they were still using Patches's shoulder and upper body as a pillow, with Sunny and Manny still held close in a careful but firm grip. Whimsy straightened, pulling away from the relatively vulnerable position, but they couldn't make themselves let go of the pair just yet.

With nothing else they could do, and a glance around telling them nothing, they couldn't help asking a somewhat hesitant question.

"H-How long was I asleep?"

"About ten minutes. Not very long at all," Patches replied, stretching now that the weight of all three had been removed.

"Hence why we're bringin' up the couch." Cab pointed out, about to reach down to help Whimsy up before Tagger nudged him aside.

"They got two heads on you, noodle-arms. Lemme do it."

Though Tagger was definitely more than ready to haul Whimsy up, it was a little difficult given that their hands were full of sleeping children. Patches and Cab tried to make it easier by taking at least one per each of them, but Whimsy had a moment of conflict as they looked between the offered hands and the little forms nestled against their front.

"It's okay," Cab spoke, catching Whimsy's hesitation. "They're pretty much out. You wanna take five with 'em?"

The question provoked a shy, eye-avoiding nod, though no one seemed to begrudge Whimsy an iota as they clambered up onto the sofa, and quietly scooted inward to make room for the sleeping Sunny and Manny. Instead, there were just quiet words on the part of Cab and Tagger, varying levels of affection in the pair's voices as Cab handed Whimsy a blanket and wished them a good nap, and Tagger's neon grin rife with rough warmth as he said he'd see the faerie later.

Sleep well, see you later. Was that normal to hear, and to feel like it was being meant? They weren't sure if they wanted to ask, but it definitely was a first for them. But, as Cab and Tagger were moving away, it suddenly struck Whimsy that Patches was still standing by, and apparently had something to say.

"You can come to me again if you need to talk, I don't mind. Also," she murmured, kneeling down next to the couch to look Whimsy in the eye. "You have brambles in your hair. I got about three out but there's probably more. We can try to fix that later if you like."

The faerie in question wasn't sure they could offer much to that, but Patches thankfully didn't seem to need an answer, getting up and leaving without any prompting. Whimsy was left blinking in the wake of that, before deciding that, well, they didn't need to really decide anything now and settling into the pillow with a sigh.

The slight movement made both Sunny and Manny move around, twitching and squirming for a moment or two. Without thinking Whimsy reached out and placed an arm over the pair, mostly for the sake of keeping them from rolling off the couch, but found themselves surprised when Sunny turned to huddle into them, Manny's arms reaching over Whimsy's and wrapping around like the limb was a stuffed animal.

It made the realization hammer in all the more that these little creatures, these kids, trusted them. Trusted them enough to sleep peacefully next to them, trusted them enough to let them into their home, draw pictures of them like they were one of the, the family.

The thought had Whimsy swallow another lump in their throat, a prickling at the corners of their eyes stubbornly forced back down because they were sick and tired of feeling miserable. Besides, if they started up again it might wake the kids.

"Shh, go to sleep, you're safe with me." They found themselves murmuring anyway, a faint tremble eating at their voice as they huddled around Sunny and Manny.

The sounds of the rain pattering on the windowpanes formed a soothing backdrop, Whimsy's eyes lazily drifting to see the water as it ran in rivets down the glass. It didn't quite banish the sounds of fire, of screams, that lay burned in their memory, nor the ghostly feeling of a noose tightening around their neck…

…But it was some space. It was a start. Maybe that would be good enough for right now, the thought bringing enough peace to the reanimated faerie that they let their eyes slip closed, breathing growing slow and deep as they slipped into slumber.

It made them miss when, a little while later, a much shorter figure came round the sofa to look at the little huddle gathered there. Fancy looked upon the otherwise sweet scene, a slight furrow in his brow as his eyes turned to the hand and arm Whimsy had used to keep Sunny and Manny close, covered in stitches that he knew so very well. Because he'd sown them with his own hands, slaved for hours over the eight-foot-tall frame that now belonged to the sleeping faerie on his couch.

Briefly, the tailor reached out for the fingers in some knee-jerk impulse to inspect them, before the thought of what if Whimsy woke up, how on earth he would explain what he was doing made him draw back. Thankfully none of them moved, but it left Fancy standing there, awkwardly staring, and wondering what on earth to do.

The sight of a light flashing from behind the sofa, out in the garage, quickly caught the tailor's attention, and he followed the nonverbal signal all the way to the car innocuously parked in the far corner of the garage. The door opened silently in an invitation, Fancy climbing into the driver's seat with an exhausted sigh and feeling more tired than he'd felt back when Cab had simply brought his 'new friend' right to their doorstep.

"You gonna tell them?" Bee's voice spoke from the radio, quiet but questioning. Not accusing, or forceful, but like a nudge on your shoulder to get you in gear. But right now, Fancy very much did not want to 'get in gear'. Instead, one of his arms folded over his front, his hand coming up to knead at his forehead to dispel the growing ache there.

"Okay, different question," Bee started, "what'dya think of them? It's been a few days, you gotta have at least some thoughts."

"I think…they've had to deal with far more than they should have. That that stupid idiot…made some very big mistakes in handling them. That they've probably been alone for a while. I'm glad they're connecting with people though, be it Cab, or Sunny and Manny, or Patches. It should be good for them."

"Alright. Gonna let 'em stay?" Bee asked, the sudden question catching Fancy off-guard.

"Huh?"

"Whimsy. It's your house. Is it okay if they stay?"

He could tell that this wasn't meant to cast doubt on Whimsy or their character, but if the tailor were to be any judge he would say that this might be a way to make up for the downright shock that Cab simply bringing the reanimated faerie home had been. Especially given that it was practically unannounced, which was something that tended to throw everyone when it came to Cab. In a group of supernaturals that had to adhere to some strict etiquette rules, the one that behaved the most like a mortal, with all of the spontaneity that came with, tended to stand out like a sore thumb. Even if, to this day, Cab was something of a mystery. A mystery that tended to be danced around, given that telling someone like Cab that they were 'different' was usually a recipe for the checkered-skinned toon to just avoid the issue and then for him to burn out a few days later from how much he tried to avoid dealing with it.

And, either way, it wasn't like Whimsy had destroyed his house or anything, so Fancy didn't feel too much conflict over his next words.

"Don't think I could throw them out now even if I tried. The kids would be too upset if their new playmate left. Cab wouldn't like it either." It also probably wouldn't be very good for Whimsy to be just acclimating to a new place and then be thrown out. If anything, it would likely undo that bit of progress that Fancy had just seen. And, though Fancy might not admit it to anyone other than himself, there was a slowly growing sense of responsibility for the reanimated faerie. If the mayor would not look out for his own creation, then maybe the only other person aware of the circumstances behind said creation should.

"Good point." Bee's voice rumbled through the speakers, before taking on a somewhat more hesitant air as he asked his next question. "You, uh, holdin' up okay?"

"I'll be fine. You're not worried, are you?"

"Think Tagger an' I have been sorta worried since you called us to come get you. First time I saw you that freaked out by anything. Second might'a been when Whimsy came in."

To be fair, Fancy ruminated, both instances had been firsts for him too. The fact that a reanimated myth had simply been brought to his doorstep was a shock in and of itself, but the fact that it was the same myth that he'd been more or less forced to slave over, put together from dead bodies, and whose creator pushed him to the point of a nervous breakdown, now that was enough to perhaps add to the gray streak in the tailor's hair.

The nervous breakdown itself had been something, given that while Fancy could say that he'd had rough points in his life before, there was nothing quite like the experience he'd had when one of the bodies that Whimsy's creator had been working with turned out to be a little more rotten than previously thought. Mostly because trying to take anything from it had resulted in a horrid, absolutely putrid smell filling the room, Fancy having gotten a glimpse enough of the rotting features that he'd about lost whatever little he'd been able to eat beforehand. He'd run out, managing to get a call home and getting Tagger, and of course he'd come with Bee for expediency's sake.

The ride home was an ordeal, given that by the time Fancy had been sitting on the curb for a good fifteen minutes, trying to banish the stench and sights from his mind, he'd become uncomfortably aware just how acquainted he'd become with the dead. The sight of dehydrated, blackened flesh no longer enough to sicken him but in retrospect it was all the more horrifying. He'd tried to focus, tried to buckle down, tried to tell himself that it was just a job and he'd make it through, and the mayor had definitely been paying good money that could be put to good use.

But in the end it wasn't enough, and Tagger had been coming just shy of outright putting his foot down in stating it. It wasn't enough to justify poor sleep and worsening health. It wasn't enough to make up for the fact that Fancy knew, in his heart of hearts, that what the mayor wanted wouldn't be so easily obtained. Some 'conditions' just weren't curable, and death was unfortunately in that category. And while the tailor had been able to ignore the niggling concerns in the back of his mind about just where these bodies were coming from, there was the part of him that wondered if they were all being obtained by 'legal' means. Or, if any family involved might be aware of what was happening to their loved ones.

There was only one body that he'd felt more or less sure about, the one that the mayor had had set up on that main table, the one that had been having the most alterations done to it. That one had clearly died not that long ago, still with a shadow of life in its features. In the right light, it almost looked like someone languishing under an illness, their face frozen in a look of quiet but poignant resignation though their neck had been a little oddly bent.

Perhaps it was to be expected, given that it was a faerie's corpse, though there had been a part of Fancy that had been a little put off by how dismal the expression was coupled with what the mayor had been doing. Perhaps it could be partially blamed on the fact that he knew faeries, Patches and Sunny, and to see either of them in this position would have been gut-wrenching. But he hadn't known this one, so looking at them had just brought a sort of melancholy irritation for their situation.

You look like you've suffered enough. Can't he just let you rest?

But then that night had happened, and Fancy had taken a break for a few days to come back to a note on the door for him, explaining that his services were no longer required. There was talk of a payment, the mayor had sounded apologetic regarding the whole incident, but Fancy's mind kept going over what had happened when he'd asked why his services hadn't been needed anymore. The mayor's exact words were that the experiment had been a failure, but he didn't elaborate.

Maybe that should have been a sign that not all was well, but Fancy had believed the whole endeavor impossible. How was he to know it had actually succeeded in creating something?

Though, as Fancy snapped out of his thoughts, he realized that he'd more or less been sitting in silence, ruminating, for a good minute now, with Bee patiently waiting for him to reply.

"…I'm doing better, promise. Startled me, definitely, but I'm feeling more…balanced. Definitely less 'freaked out', as you put it."

"Good to hear there. Though, Fancy…I get 'not now', but, be careful with that kinda secret. If anything just because it'll end up sitting like a rock in the trunk."

"Fair enough. Worried I'll get more gray hair?" It might've been a bit of an unfair thing to joke about, as while Fancy had adjusted to the streak of gray in his hair following the whole incident with the mayor, the supernatural cast of characters in his household…really hadn't. At least, not until everyone was sure he wasn't about to keel over given that they'd all made the somewhat correct assertion that 'going gray' could mean that you were close to the end of your life. It had taken at least a few weeks for them all to back off, though out of all of them, Tagger and Bee were the only ones that knew the full circumstances. Still, there was a laugh in Bee's tone as he replied, hinting that while there might be a worry it wasn't nearly as strong as it had been.

"Hey, don't even go there, mister. Not until you're at least pushin' fifty."

"Alright, alright, I'll be careful. And, I probably will tell them. Just not right now. Thank you, Bee." The words were punctuated with a gentle pat on the steering wheel, the lights flickering like a grin in reply.

"Welcome. Gotta work on stuff?"

"As always."

"Can you show me sometime? Can't exactly make it up the stairs…or wear clothes, but it looks fun." It might've been an odd request for a car to make, but Fancy was decently sure that Bee had made similar ones before now, about various things that though he knew there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of him being able to participate he still wanted to know about. Ergo, it wasn't too hard to agree.

"Sure thing."

As Fancy was about to cross the living room, his path brought him within viewing distance of the huddle still slumbering on the couch, the tailor pausing for a moment to sort of re-take in the sight. Whimsy's face was quietly relaxed, arm still in that careful, protective position over Sunny and Manny, the pair just barely visible though Fancy could see Manny's much smaller arms still wrapped around the darker, stitched-together limb.

It was a surprisingly sweet sight, even with the unusual-ness of the cast of characters. Fancy gave a quiet, calm smile, before heading for the stairs.

#nemo's writing #whimsy #whimsy the faerie #frankenstein #frankenstein au #a-rae-of-sunshine #original characters #misfit toons

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askthewitchlady · 4 years

Text

Tick Tock Tought

@absurdmageart I love your HorrorSwap boys ever since you posted about them, I dunno if you remember I said I wanted to right something for them so I did finally got it done, I hope I did them justice :)

Wandering at a slow pace Papyrus ‘Big’ Snow watched his brother stride with a lot more confidence then he’d had for a while along the path. They had seen and done a lot of terrible things underground, and when they had finally emerged with the help of the child so many had expected to be hated. However, while Big understood that some did hate and fear them, the majority of humanity had come together to help them. Medical care, psychological help, food… stars the food! So much of it! He remembered the first time seeing a grocery store, rows and rows of food, Sans had cried, he’d been so stunned by it so shocked to see so much Papyrus wondered if his brother had almost forgotten what it was like.

That had been a few years ago now and was one of the few things he remembered strongly about their emerging. Day to day it was hard to really remember things. It was ok though… well, not really but he had his notebook and his bro to help him so it worked out. It was a little funny to think the notebook he used to keep in his pocket to jot down ideas for writing had become a way to just remember life in general. Perusing the notebook last night however, he knew that his brother was really planning a surprise and not just taking him someplace he had forgotten about.

In fact when Sans, or Tiny as he was called by the others at the house, had approached him he had been very excited, almost his old self. Apparently he and the ‘original’ Papyrus had gone out food shopping and while looking around had found a shop he seemed absolutely certain his younger brother would love.

Big had agreed. It wasn’t that he was unhappy on the surface but the fact was, he wasn’t the skeleton he used to be, he’d been tired before but it was nothing compared to the depression that weighed on him now. Sans was always trying so hard to cheer him up, and his notebooks were full of the days Sans had found something for him to do that he enjoyed.

He did try to do the same for his brother but it was difficult when he couldn’t always remember if he had done something for his brother already. Not that Sans seemed to mind, he was always delighted when his brother worked up the energy to do something for him.

Papyrus snapped back to himself when he realised Sans had stopped walking and was bouncing on the balls of his feet at an open alleyway. Now, Papyrus had been doing pretty well adjusting to life on the surface (at least that’s what his therapist said) but there were a few old habits that hadn’t quite died and the nervousness of the small space Sans was waiting by made him pausing. Noticing the hesitation the smaller skeleton approached his brother, grabbing his hand gently, Papyrus tried not to think about the knicks and divots in his brother's bones.

“It’s ok Pappy it’s only small for a couple feet then it opens up you’ll see I promise.” he assured eyes shining eagerly behind his glasses. Big missed the way Tiny's eyes went star shaped in his excitement but Papyrus was happy that Sans could be so excited about something so freely. Papyrus knew his brother wouldn’t do something to scare him, and if he thought whatever was on the other side of this small space was worth it then Papyrus would give it a try.

Sans wasn’t wrong, in fact the little ‘ally’ was more of just an underpass where two older buildings connected. He could see how it opened up into a sunny cobbled lane. With a couple trees, their gnarled roots spread as much above the cobblestones as below. It was... charming. Yeah that was the perfect word for it, charming. For a moment he felt a blast of inspiration, and all he wanted to do was sit and write, all the little ideas that came to mind is this little secret space.

“It’s nice isn’t it?” Sans said encouragingly now Papyrus was through the small space, the taller skeleton nodded slowly, yeah it was. It was kind of like stepping back in time almost, while a lot of this part of town was still very classic in the way it looked. A lot of the beautiful old architecture had been covered by modern facades that were so… cold. There was so much glass and so many reflective surfaces. Big didn’t really like it, it just reminded him of what he had become. There was glass here too, but the shop windows here were smaller, they had artful names on the display windows or from signs that swung gently in a cooling breeze. The wood was old and weathered but well kept and he had a feeling the plaster was either replaced or freshly painted recently as everything looked as if it had been built just yesterday.

“We’re almost there, come on, we’ll look at all the shops but I wanna show you this one first.” Sans said, giving Papyrus's hand a gentle squeeze. He didn’t pull or drag Papyrus like he used to because of how badly he knew his brothers back hurt him so Sans had taken to those gentle but firm squeezes to get Papyrus moving. There was more? This wasn’t what Sans wanted him to see? But this was amazing, he hadn’t felt this much inspiration in such a long time, what could be better?

The answer came quickly as they made it to the far end of the lane. There was a pretty wrought iron fence painted black that framed a tiny courtyard filled overflowing with flowers planted with no care to how they grew, the thick smell filled the air in a pleasant assault on his senses. Sans stepped forward pushing the door open, the hinges creaked a little and a charming bell rang from above the door frame. It was a sudden noise but not so loud that it upset the bigger skeleton.

“Hello hello hello, I’m back, miss Human, I brought my brother today.” Sans called. That was interesting. He hadn't heard his brother call out like that before. He didn’t have time to question it though as stepping into the shop he stopped dead in his tracks. It was fantastic, the shop was an old (very old) antique shop and to his wonder there was a whole wall covered in clocks of all types, they ticked softly some had pendulums swinging and others had doors that made him think of cuckoo clocks. He’d never seen so many old clocks.

“Oh Sans, welcome back, you can use my name dear you don’t have to call me Human.” The voice was soft and easy with a gentle chuckle to it. Papyrus turned to the sound he had sort of expected an old woman, the place had a feel of age and dignity. Not to say the woman standing in the archway to another room wasn’t dignified, in fact she was quite elegant, but she wasn’t old. It took him a moment to realise while she was looking in his brothers direction she wasn’t fully looking at him. Another instant and he realised her pale eyes weren’t just a light color she was blind.

“I remember I’m sorry Human! Oh! As I said before I brought my brother, he really loves clocks and from the look on his face when we walked in I think he wants your whole wall of clocks!” he said brightly, the woman chuckled nodding as she walked towards them. She was fairly confident in the way she walked but she would occasionally touch a display case, probably orienting herself in the room. She smiled nodding as she paused once she was closer to his brother.

“Well then you are more then welcome to look at them as much as you like, they are for sale of course.” she said gently tilting her head, she was listening for him.

“Uh, thank you I appreciate it.” he managed he felt uncomfortable awkwardly, the feeling growing when the woman followed his voice to look in his direction and offered a gentle smile. He was sort of glad he didn’t have to stress about what she thought of him, his hulking bent form in her tiny shop. Not being able to see him she only knew him to be a monster, he doubted his brother told her what he looked like. He watched as she returned her attention to Sans tilting his head slightly trying to get a grasp on the feeling that tickled in his skull. It was a weird feeling, he wasn’t jealous, he’d never be jealous of Sans but he found himself wanting her attention. Was it because she was blind? Knowing she’d give him that soft and welcoming smile with nothing behind it because she had no idea? He couldn’t really be sure.

“I am glad you came back, I received a shipment of some lovely antique almanacs yesterday, would you like to see them before they are out for display?” she asked, Papyrus knew that Sans had really developed a love of reading, but he hadn’t realised the hobby had expanded to be interested in antiques. He smiled weakly glancing back at the wall of clocks. There were so many and they were all different. For a moment he closed his eyes and just let the soft sound of them wash over him, he could hear his brother and the woman talking quietly in the other room he felt… safe. The calm quiet of the shop just gave him a sense of peace he wanted to write. To get all these thoughts down and, maybe later if he stayed in this right frame of mind…

He settled right there on the floor, if he moved or tried to find a chair he knew he’d lose the thin thread he had hold on. Drawing the notepad from his pocket he began scribbling. His handwriting had suffered but he could still read it so that was good. He wrote down the feelings being in the shop and the charming lane had invoked. In the quiet with just the faint murmur of Sans and the Sales woman talking and the gentle scratch of his pencil, Papyrus didn’t realise almost an hour had passed until Sans came to get him. His brother now had a satchel over his shoulder with, presumably, some books inside and was grinning his braces winking in the soft light.

“You’re welcome back for more books Sans, Oh your brother can come back to watch the clocks whenever he likes.” the human woman said as Papyrus stood his bones felt creaky and achy but he felt... good. He had written so much, more than he had in a long time and he felt great. But he couldn’t quite manage to say so. His brother however was a step ahead of him.

“I’ll be sure to bring him back, I’ll want more books.” Tiny said cheerfully as he walked with his brother out of the shop. Papyrus smiled looking at the notebook in his large hand before looking at Sans who had stopped to beam at him as soon as they were outside.

“So, was that a good surprise or what?” he asked happily, Papyrus smiled softly, the corners of his mouth twitching up gently. He pocketed the notebook before reaching out gently rubbing the top of Sans head approvingly

“Did good Bro, I liked it there.” he said quietly, anyone else would have missed the subtle changes in his manner but Sans saw them and he knew that his brother really had enjoyed the shop. He smiled settling the bag, tucked amongst the books was a clock he had seen last time he had visited the shop, he fully intended to give it to his brother when they got home. He had been on the fence about the purchase but seeing how his brother had lit up seeing all the clocks had cemented his decision.

He was glad his little brother had liked the shop, regardless of their sizes and manner Sans was still the big brother and he took Bigs happiness seriously, if something as simple as an old shop with a wall of old clocks could make him so excited then Sans would bring him everyday if he wanted.

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

True to his word, when Papyrus mentioned the shop a few days later with a fresh notebook in hand Sans was happy to take his brother back. He wanted to show Big the other shops and he told Papyrus that there was a little cafe they could have lunch at as well or they could eat in the courtyard on one of the benches under the tree. Both ideas were nice and Papyrus agreed without hesitation. He wanted to write, he wanted to get the pretty images onto paper before they left his skull, though the fact they held firm so far delighted him, usually he had such a struggle with new memories.

It was earlier when they arrived then last time so the sun wasn’t quite as high giving the lane a look of fantastic shadow that made Papyrus think of mysteries of an old world, foggy cobbled streets, magic and adventure…

A shiver thrilled up his spine and he looked at Sans with a bigger smile

“It’s… coming so fast bro, all these ideas.” he managed Sans smiled nodding happy to let his brother plonk himself down on the bench already scribbling in the open notebook He hadn’t seen his brother so eager and inspired in such a long time, it was so nice.

Knowing Big would be fine on the bench, Sans made his way to the little antique shop and went inside wanting to look at some of the other books the owner had on hand and tell her how much Papyrus had loved the clock he had bought him.

Papyrus wasn’t sure how long he had been writing but when he surfaced from his thoughts he was startled to see the woman from the antique shop sitting on the other end of the bench, hands in her lap face turned up at the dappled light that peaked through the leaves of the tree. Was it her sitting that had caught his attention.

“Oh uh… can move.” he mumbled glancing around for Sans, he was better at this. He didn't want to bother this woman, she probably hadn’t even known he was there or else she wouldn’t have sat there obviously.

“Hmm? Oh no you’re ok, it sounded like you were really into your work, you were mumbling to yourself.” she said gently turning her face slightly in his direction, he had been talking? It occurred to him after a moment that Sans had commented once, that when he was really immersed in an idea he would sometimes say what he was writing.

“Sorry…” he muttered roughly wildly embarrassed, she just shook her head

“Don’t be, it sounds like an interesting story, your brother mentioned you enjoy writing, ‘m glad our little plot of land inspires you so much.” she said warmly.

“Y-yeah, it’s… been awhile since... I mean…” he trailed when something occurred to him “Y-your plot?” he asked kind of curious she nodded slowly

“Mhmm, all of this space belongs to my family. It used to be one huge Manor house so I’m told. It was parted out over time to family members and became our own little block of shops.” she explained softly, he smiled, that was kind of a neat idea. A nice thought as well, having so much family and being so close?

“S-so all these shops are, uh… your’s?” he asked. She shook her head “Not mine specifically but they all belong to a member of my family, lets see sitting here… Ok that shop there, My brother runs it with his son His wife is an executive assistant at our grandfather's company. The shop next to that belongs to my aunt on my mother's side…” and so shop by shop she told him about who owned it, a bit about the shop, a bit about the history. It was really interesting and after a while he had started making notes about what she was telling him. When was the last time he'd just sat and had a conversation with anyone?

“And you own the antique shop?” he asked when she finished she nodded expression shifting slightly

“Yes though I suppose at times I don’t really feel like it’s really mine.” she admitted before shaking her head

“Oh! No ignore that, I know I shouldn’t think like that I’m sorry.” she said sheepishly, blushing faintly as she settled her hands in her lap closing her eyes and taking a deep breath

“‘S ok… I don't mind listening.” he offered, surprising himself as much as her it seemed, by his words.

“Hmm… well, I should preface it by saying I love my family and I know at the end of the day they just worry for me, and for good reason. I don’t feel like I earned the shop. I got my degree yes and I work hard to keep it but, I feel sometimes like I only got it because of my condition. By giving me a shop in our unit family can always keep an eye out for me. I don’t know if they know how much I love the antiques, how much I’ve learned or if they just gave me the shop because it wasn’t being used at the time and it would keep me close?” she admitted before shaking her head again.

“And I know it’s not fair to anyone to think that way. Yes they want me safe but if I had pushed I could have gotten a shop someplace else, and I know they only want what's best for me. I try not to let those thoughts get to me.” she said fingers fidgeting in her lap

“Well, dunno if it matters from a stranger but, sounds t’me like you earned it… if you got the degree, and you're still learnin about it, and you work hard at the shop then… isn’t that what it means to earn somethin?” he offered, he was no stranger to dark and intrusive thoughts and he had to admire how she tried to get past them

“There's nothin wrong with ‘earnin’ somethin after it’s been given to you … I think… ‘s not like you're just passing it off to someone else to manage and sittin around. You could, and no one would probably mind ‘cause of your ah… uh eyes, but you don’t do that so, seems like you’re earnin’ it… uh, well to me… anyway.” he mumbled trailing off as he lost steam, she was looking well, facing him directly seeming stunned as he had spoken before smiling brightly.

“That's, so true, you’re right and yes I do work hard I am earning it, Sometimes those ugly thoughts poke in but that’s something else I can remember when it gets like that, thank you, ah, it’s Papyrus right? You’re brother told me.” she said warmly he smiled a bit nodding oh wait she couldn’t

“Yeah, yah, uh there's a couple of us called Papyrus so sometimes people call me, B-big to… I’m uh, well pretty tall.” he said a little nervously

“Oh yeah? Well unless I meet another Papyrus I think I’ll use your name if that’s alright, oh, unless you prefer big?” she said suddenly considering that he shook his head

“N-nah nah it’s fine I um, I like my name better I just, having a nickname just helps so people don’t get confused.” he muttered magic dusting his skull embarrassment rising, yah he liked the way his name sounded when she said it, Big didn’t sound to bad either but he liked the way she said his name, Papyrus, heh.

“Where is Sans anyway uh he’s been gone a while.” He said suddenly to cover the silence of him savouring his new friend.

“Oh He must still be looking at books. When he first came to the shop the friend he was shopping with had to drag him out, he said something about them needing to get home for the best spaghetti night ever.” she said chuckling softly

“He likes the books I have a lot, I guess it makes a nice change from a lot of what comes out now.” she said musingly as she stood

“Would you like to come see if that’s what’s happened? I’m sure he’ll surface when you call for him.” she said laughing softly. Papyrus shifting standing slowly and stretching spine popping. He’d sort of settled in the bench but it was lower than he was used to and so he'd folded awkwardly into it. It hadn’t been so bad while he was writing and then talking but now he could think without distraction he could feel the aching protest of his joints.

“Oh, That was a sound heh, you should see my sister in law, she might have something for that.” she said easily gesturing to one of the shops she had told him about before, Holistic medicine? He shrugged

“Could give it a shot.” he said softly he didn’t really think about it all that often if he was honest he’d gotten so used to the pain, He didn’t like it but it just… was, and since the few medicines they had tried to give him hadn’t worked.

As expected, Sans was sprawled on the floor in the shop pouring over different books, his eyes shining as he looked over the weathered pages in utter awe. Papyrus smiled. It was nice to see his bro so immersed, and not worrying about him for a little while. He appreciated his brother's help obviously but he was glad Sans was comfortable enough with where Papyrus had been to leave him there to get involved in the old books.

“Hey bro.” he called instantly catching Sans’ attention the smaller skeleton shifting scrambling up

“Papy, check it out This book has some of the old monster myths!” he said thrilled looking to the woman hugging the book to his chest

“Is this one one of the ones for sale, I know Queen Toriel would love to see it, I’d love to read it to her, if it’s not for sale could I borrow it?” he asked eagerly not relinquishing his hold on the book as he stared at her. Papyrus looked to her curiously, she’d been letting Sans look at the books that weren’t for sale? That was, well really nice. If they were really antiques and not for sale they must be pretty valuable or rare.

“Actually, Why don’t you consider it a gift?” she said gently Sans stalled staring at her,

“What? but, I can pay for it.” he managed, surprised. He hadn’t been above using his cute looks in the underground for things he really really wanted before things had gotten bad but he’d given all that up, and even if he hadn’t she couldn't even see him, he had.. Why… Sans felt stuck unsure what to say or do.

“If it has monster stories in it then it must have belonged to monsters at one point right? You’re my friend Sans, I like it when we talk about books, if you want to share that book with other friends then I want you to do it. If you really want to pay for it, you can come back and tell me what your friend thought of the stories, how does that sound?” she offered Sans nodded quickly hugging the book so close

“Yes absolutely I will! I will.” he said quickly, looking at Papyrus with awe and delight as if silently saying ‘Did you see that?’

“Well bro, look at you makin friends all over the place up here too? You’re still the best.” Papyrus said grinning as he rocked back a bit on his heels, hands in his pocket he didn’t feel as tired as usual, today? It felt like a good day.

#Fanfiction #Absurdmageart #gift fic #Horrowswap #horror swap #Papyrus big #Sans tiny

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katybaby00 · 4 years

Text

Guys my age

Alpha!Sam x Omega!Chunky!Reader

Warnings: Child abuse, if you’re sensitive to that please skip ahead. Body image issues. ABO dynamics. Smut (obviously). Mating. Claiming. Angst (from the reader). Dub-con. Moc. Daddy kink from the reader. I think that’s it!

A/N: This is my first A/B/O. Be kind. Constructive criticism is always welcome! I listened to Guys my age by Hey Violet on repeat. So feel free to listen to that song when it shows up in here. Enjoy my loves!

Beta’d by: @anawkwardartistandgamer

“Y/n! Get your ass down here!” Your foster mother shouted up the stairs. “Coming!” You place your journal down onto your nightstand and close your bedroom door softly, she hates when I close it loud. You make your way down the stairs, and as you reach the bottom the hateful beta woman looks up at you. Pulls you the rest of the way down the stairs and backhands your right cheek and it starts to flare up to red. “I thought I told you to take out the garbage?” She stares at you, face beet red. If she was any more red you thought she might have steam coming out of her ears, you giggle at the thought. She seethes and she starts smacking you, across your mouth busting your upper lip open. Then, with her right hand she busts your eyebrow open. You tumble on to the floor and she starts kicking and punching you. Your upper body, torso, and legs. You’re starting to feel your vision go fuzzy and darken at the corner of your eyes. She grabs you by your hair and drags you down the hallway, opens the creepy basement door, and then throws you down and locks it. As you tumble down the stairs an exposed nail slices into your waist and starts bleeding. As your body hits the last few steps your head smacks off of the support beam and your world goes black.

You wake up in the hospital with your social worker Maria. You and her have been through a lot together. This wouldn’t be the first time she has found you at the hospital covered in bruises and stitches. She is an amazing person and I am very grateful for her. “Maria? Maria, where am I?” She is startled that you’re talking. “Y/n, you have been in the hospital for 5 weeks. The doctors said that you were in a coma. But a very slight one, you didn’t hit your head hard enough to do major damage. And the cut on your waist is stitched up. You needed 7 stitches. While your foster mother was beating you the neighbors heard you screaming and called the police. She won’t ever touch or see you again. I promise. In the meantime you need to get your rest and I will talk to the doctor about your release papers.” That was a massive relief to hear her say that. But you were tired of always jumping from home to home. Never knowing when you would get a good or bad one. You look at her, “Nobody wants a 15 year old, Maria. Nobody would ever want me anyway. I mean look at me. I’m fat. Stretch marks. Cellulite. In places I didn’t even think possible. I’m disgusting! And in 3 years I’ll figure out if I’m going to be alpha, beta, or omega. I’ll probably be a beta. Nobody would want to be with me if I was an omega anyway! Just let me go. Let me leave, you can say that I ran away. But please, don’t look for me.” Crying into your hands. Maria sets her hands on your leg. “Y/n, I know that things are hard right now. Nothing seems to not be going the way you had hoped, and I understand that. I really do. I want to help you. So I’m going to go talk to the doctor. I’ll see you later.” She squeezes your hand. Getting up she walks towards the door and before she leaves she looks over her shoulder and gives you a knowing smile. You cried because she was the only real friend you ever knew. I will miss her more than anything.

2 years later and you were better than ever slipping from couch to couch in your friends’ homes, hitchhiking, and hustling pool in your free time at dive bars. You had run into a couple who said they hunted things, you assumed it was like wild game, and wanted to see what they would be hunting. So you decided that one night you would follow them and see what it was. Big mistake. You found yourself tied with your hands above your head on a meat hook in an abandoned warehouse with an IV in your arm. ‘Great.’ You thought as you tried to free your hands. Luckily you were rescued by Eva and Dave, who explained to you that what you did was very stupid and you shouldn’t just follow strangers places. And blah blah blah. You convinced them to take you under their wing and teach you everything they knew about the ‘“hunting life” as they called it. So off you went. Killing demons, djinn, witches, and even dragons. For the next year. Then came your 18th birthday. The day you had been dreading since the hospital. “Eva? What if I’m an omega? What if I’m an alpha? How will I even know what I am?” She just laughs and rubs your shoulders. “I knew almost instantly that I was an omega. So did every omega in my family. I have no doubt in my mind that you will know almost immediately. Even Dave said he knew almost instantly that he was an alpha. You will be just fine. You have like 5 minutes until it's midnight. Then you’ll know. Trust me.” You sat back on the creaky couch of their family cabin and chewed your nails. 4 minutes. 3 minutes. 2 minutes. 1 minute. “What if I’m an omega? How am I going to get threw my heats and how am-`” ''Listen to me,” she cut you off. “I got scent blockers, pills, and everything you will need to get you through this m’kay? You are going to be just fine.” Midnight struck. “I don’t actually feel anything. Maybe I’m a beta. God i was really hop-” and just like that a gut wrenching cramp punched through your stomach and you doubled over in pain. Your body heating up like you just stepped into a sauna. Sweat started rolling down your forehead and you felt the urge to clench your legs together. “Dave, honey, why don’t you go take a drive or stay at a motel. Just to make things more comfortable for Y/n. Okay? I don’t think she needs to be around an alpha this early.” He walks over to Eva and kisses her cheek then walks out the door. “Eva! Oh my god. Why does this hurt so bad? It feels like my insides are going to come apart.” “Sh, honey I know the first one is sometimes the hardest. You just have to get yourself through it. Unless you want me to go pick some guy-” “Absolutely not Eva don’t you even think about it!” You shouted as you doubled over again and you could feel the slick soak your underwear.

Two years later you had gotten it under control. You could feel when one was coming on and you avoided alphas at all costs. Or at least as much as you could. Eva and Dave decided that you knew enough to hunt on your own and you agreed. They didn’t like you being an unmated omega hunting alone but they also knew that they couldn’t stop you either. So here you sat in Kansas City, Kansas at some bar with too many college kids. You looked older than 20 so the bouncers never questioned it. As it turns out, a ghost had been messing with some fraternities and here you are. You took care of it, in and out. Simple salt and burn.You sat down at the bar determined to maybe find a beta or shy alpha, hopefully. You could feel your heat coming, but it wasn’t close enough to draw attention to you. After all, never having a knot, your options were limited. 2 hours and many shots later you were about to give up when you heard the song that made your body come to life start to play. Mainly because it was true. You had always dated older men, then when you tried to date someone younger it ended in disaster. So you stuck with the silver foxes and 25 plus men. You tossed your flanel to the side wearing a tank top and short shorts with combat boots. The bass of the speakers in your chest and how it swarmed your body, it felt like you were flying. The endorphins that flooded your system and how high the song was making you. Plus the amount of shots you had, dancing around this many good looking people, you didn’t have a care in the world. That was until you could feel eyes on you. You noticed your suppressant cream was starting to come off. So you ran towards the exit and practically knocked over an extremely large man with shaggy brown hair. As soon as you hit him it was like hitting a wall of arousal, he smelled amazing. Like sandalwood, whiskey, and old books. Shit. “Hey. Woah, easy there. Why are you run-“ he took a deep breath in through his nose and took a step back. “You’re an omega.” He grabbed your hand and led you through the crowd of people out of the bar and into the parking lot, dragging you behind him. “Hey! Stop! Wait! God, alpha’s never fucking listen!” Even though He was dragging you through the crowd of people his grip wasn’t too tight. He held your wrist with such care. You could tell that there is more to this man that meets the eye. You shouted and yanked your arm away, he turned to look at you. “Ah, no. Not God. His name is actually Chuck and he’s a douche.” You give him a bewildered look, “What? You know what, I don’t care. Look I don’t even know who you are! What makes you think I’m just going to leave with you?” The way he looked at you held something more. Something you couldn’t put your finger on. Like an instinct that you had to follow, that you needed to follow. His eyebrows shot up and he gave you an apologetic look. “Oh right, I probably should’ve started with that. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want anyone else to smell you. I have been waiting a long ass time to find you. I never thought I would, but you were dancing, and I caught your scent and I couldn’t help but stare and then you bolted out and ran into me. I’m sorry.” You look up at the man. “What’s your name?” “I probably should have started with that. My name is Sam. Sam Winchester.” You scoff. “There is no way. The Winchester’s are a myth. There is also no way, out of all of these people in the world, you “Sam Winchester” is my alpha there’s no way!” You start to laugh then. “This is crazy. You guys are obviously fucking with me…” Sam just looks at you. “Listen I know this is crazy. Believe me, we are obviously not a myth if we’re standing right in front of you. I’m Sam.” You take a step back and put your hands to your temples. There is no fucking way that this is happening! Cursing yourself. “Okay… you are definitely going to have to prove it to me. Because I have only ever heard stories, not that you are actually living and breathing. You are way too hot to be the Winchester’s. They sounded so burly and rough. Not big, sexy, strong… alpha’s.” You start to trail off and your stomach cramps and your panties grow damp. Sam shoots forward and wraps you in his arms and purrs. His instincts took over. He sniffs your hair and nuzzles his face into your neck. Sam clears his throat and let’s you go. “Sorry. I just, yeah.” You smile up at the alpha “It’s okay. We should probably get to know each other before you just fuck me senseless huh?” Sam sucks in a breath and coughs. That’s when Dean walks up. His eyes get wide when he hears what you said. Dean looks over at you and laughs, “Let’s get back to the motel and get some liquid courage. We can take my baby.” “That's a great idea. I didn’t drive here, I walked.” Sam turns to you and grabs your shoulders, “You walked?! Are you crazy? You’re an unclaimed omega walking to a bar at night. That is irresponsible and dangerous.” You chuckle and reach into your boot and pull out a silver blade and twirl it in your fingers. “Down boy. I got this covered.” You pat his chest and brush past him towards the impala. Sam jogs up behind you, “So what’s your name?” “Oh right. It’s Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.” Later that night. You and Sam are by the impala and you’re sitting on the trunk, with your hands behind you and legs swinging off the edge admiring the stars while Dean got the beer and whiskey. Sam clears his throat and finally speaks, “So I never asked how old you were.” You look at him and clear your throat. Dreading his reaction. “I’d like to know your age first. Just to see how much younger I am.” You give him a slight nudge on the shoulder and your hand lingers for a while. “I’m 33.” Your eyes shoot open and you sit up straight looking at him. Your cheeks turn a deep shade of pink. Sam must have noticed. “Sam. I- um. I’m 20.” His eyes get as wide as saucers. “Oh. I knew you were young but I didn't know you were that young. I just assumed that you were at least 21 to be in a bar.” You sigh and jump down off the trunk. “Yeah I figured that would be your reaction. I mean look at me.” You say gesturing to yourself. He looks at you and raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” You scoff, “Oh come on Sam. Don’t tell me you don’t see it, I’m not stupid. I’m 13 years younger than you and I’m fat Sam. Stretch marks, baby face, cellulite,daddy and mommy issues, and too much skin in all the wrong places. That’s the reason I've never had an alpha or anyone else for that matter. Who would want to knot someone like me? And I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t want to either.” You drop your head and kick the rocks by your feet, letting a tear run down your cheek. He takes his hand and lifts your chin up with his index finger and rubs your jaw with his thumb. “Y/n do you really think that because of your weight and age that I wouldn't love you. You’re my omega. Nothing can change that. Not any stupid number on a scale or of you’re 20. I have waited so long to find you, and now here you are. I didn’t know that it was that young.” You give Sam a small smile and he wraps you in a tight hug. “Yeah you’re right.” Sam holds you tight and gives you a kiss on the top of your head.

“When we get to the motel can we see if they have another room. I want to wash this awful smelling cream off of me. If that’s okay?” He smiles and holds you tighter. “Of course it is.” Sam puts his arm around you and pulls you closer. You see Dean coming out of the gas station with a big goofy grin on his face. Sam takes notice and laughs. He nudges you and nods to Dean, “That’s his ‘I’m getting laid tonight face’. ''It's pretty funny.” You giggle and look at Dean, “He has a face for that?” Dean gets to the gas pumps and gives you a smile and says, “Looks like we’re getting separate rooms tonight.” Sam laughs and turns to look at you. “Oh yeah he has a face for everything.” Getting into the impala and heading back to the motel you lean up front in between the boys, “Hey Dean? Do you mind if I play a song?” He chuckles and looks back at you and then to the road. “Sweetheart this has a cassette player. Not an aux cord thingy. Besides, the driver picks the music, and shotgun shuts his cake hole.” You laugh and reach into your bag and pull out a “Hey Violet” cassette tape. “You never said anything about the backseat. Here. Play this. Number 4. Just do me a favor and let it play. It’s my favorite song.” as the song floods the speakers Dean groans. “This girly shit?” “Shh. Listen. Sam, you too.” Sam looks over his shoulder and gives you a knowing side smile. “So you like older guys huh?” Dean says as he looks in the rear view. “Dean, will you please listen. It’s actually a really good song. You might learn a thing or two.” As the song flows through the speakers and through your veins. You can’t help but stare at the back of Sam’s head thinking about running your fingers through it and tugging. Your body heats up at the intrusive thought and you can feel slick coat your underwear. Making you nervous with two alphas in the car. Sam’s shoulders straighten first and he lets out a low growl. Dean runs his hand over his face and adjusts himself in his pants without Sam knowing. Pulling into the motel Dean gets out and goes into the office to grab another room. Sam turns around and wraps his massive hand around the back of your head and pulls you towards him with a smile on his face. His eyes flicker to your lips and back up to your eyes. He kisses you, slow and soft. It feels like he’s pouring everything he’s feeling into that one kiss. You hum into the kiss. Dean opens the door and throws Sam the room key and heads to the trunk to get your bags. “Hey guys I’m just going to run to the room I had here and grab my bag and stuff. I’ll be right back.”

After you grab your stuff from your old room and walk to the office to return your key, you walk into the room and see that he has put your bag and his onto the bed. So you grab your bag and pull open the zipper, then an idea hits you and the little light bulb above your head flips on. You grab some pajamas and make your way over to the bathroom. Upon opening the door you don’t think Sam notices you. So you continue with your plan. Taking off your top then your boots, socks, shorts, bra, and finally you slowly slide your underwear down your legs making sure to bend over just in case you have an audience. You slip into the shower right behind Sam and wrap your arms around his middle. He jumps slightly and then relaxes when he catches your scent. He wishes you would hurry and rinse that cream off so he could scent you better. “Are we crazy for doing this?” He chuckles and smiles before turning around. “Y/n I think that we would be crazy not to do this. You’re my true mate. And I'm yours. There’s no denying it. I just wish I could have found you sooner.” Your heart flutters at his words. In one swift motion you reach behind his head and pull him into a bruising kiss. Teeth and tongues working together to please the other. Sam growls low in his throat and you can feel it reverberated into your chest making your omega instincts crave his touch. Pushing into him more he stops you with a hand on your chest. “‘Mega please wash that god awful cream away so I can scent you. It smells so bad. I want the real you.” You giggle and grab the body wash. “Yes alpha.” he shivers at the title and pulls your body against his front. You can feel his cock get rock hard. You can feel the slick of yourself run down your legs. “S-Sam. Please, I want you so bad.” He pulls you closer, if that’s even possible and he kisses and nips at your shoulders. Trying your best to scrub the cream off you finally finish with no help from Sam.

You quickly step out of the shower and grab the nearest towel and dry off quickly. Sam followed close behind. After you are completely dried off you go and before you can get some shorts and a sleep shirt on. Sam reaches you and spins you around and kisses you. Making you stumble backwards on to the bed. “Present for me omega. Present for your alpha.” Climbing onto the bed you can’t help but let out a whine. Sam grabs his cock and he gives it a few pumps. As you get positioned you can feel Sam’s eyes on your round ass. He’s looking at the way your back arches for his and how dripping wet your pussy looks. “Good girl omega. Such a pretty pussy.” You come down lower to the bed chest flat against it and arms resting by your head. You don’t start getting nervous until the bed dips, which Sam can sense. “Hey baby, you’re doing so good right now. Look so perfect for me. I promise I’m going to be gentle. I’m going to be so fucking gentle.” he says while he sinks a finger into you. He slides his finger in and out slowly before adding another, which makes you gasp. “It stings a little.” “Yeah baby girl it’s going to. I just have to open you up or it’s going to really hurt and I don’t want to hurt you.” So you relax completely trusting your alpha. He glides his fingers in and out and then he makes a come hither motion and you moan, loud. Loud enough for the whole motel to hear. He keeps going and you’re a panting and moaning mess. You can feel the smirk on Sam’s lips watching you come undone for him. “That’s it ‘mega. Cum on my fingers.” That’s all it took to send you crashing over the edge. “Oh fuck! Shit shit shit. Oh god Sam.” clenching around his fingers you can feel your juices run down the inside of your thighs and you let out a shaky breath. Sam slides his fingers out of you and leans over your body, “I’m not done with you yet omega.” he smirks and pulls your hips higher and closer to his body and you can feel his cock prod at your entrance. The only thing you want to do is relax for him. He pumps himself a few times and takes the head of his cock and brushes it along your folds, gathering your wetness. “So wet for me baby. So beautiful.” You wiggle and push back against him, causing him to grunt. He sinks the head of his cock into you. Making your eyes pop open and a hiss coming from you. “Sam that’s too much.” “Baby if you don’t relax it’s going to hurt,” he pushes into you slowly, inch by inch, “you’re doing so good,” he keeps going until he bottoms out, “fuck. You are so fucking tight. So fucking perfect for your alpha. Are you okay?” You push back against him trying to get some sort of movement out of him and he grabs you by your throat and pulls you back against his chest. “You’re such a needy little omega aren’t you?” Lost in the moment you reply, “Yes daddy.” You freeze. Sam freezes. Neither of you move for a couple seconds. “What did you just call me?” You take a deep breath. “Sam I’m sorry. I didn’t me-” he slaps his hand over your mouth and bites down on to your neck making you push back into him. He leans down and whispers into your ear, “Say. It. Again.” He enunciated every word. This sent shivers down your spine making you whimper into his hand. As he let his hand fall back to your throat you cry out, “Oh fuck. Please fucking move. You’re killing me. Please daddy?” “Good girl.” He pulls almost all the way out and then snaps his hips forward sending your chest to the bed and a scream to rip from your throat. He grunts out loud and moans at the angle he’s at. Setting a maddening pace that makes you see stars. The coil just keeps getting tighter and tighter the more he fucks you into the mattress. Then he pushes your back down towards the bed with your ass in the air and he hits that sweet spot, “Oh my god. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His name came out in screams like a song that's stuck in your head. You cum around his thick cock and you can feel his knot starting to catch inside your tight walls. He starts fucking your faster and you can feel his hips falter, “Oh fuck Y/n. I’m gonna cum.” And with that his knot catches and you can feel his teeth sink into your neck claiming you forever. He coats the inside of your walls, rope and rope of cum filling your belly. Sam leans over and kisses your shoulder, making sure to lick at his fresh mark. He rolls you both over waiting for his knot to soften. “Y/n. I am so glad that I finally found you.” You take his large hand and hold it in your much smaller hand. “Me too alpha.”

#samwinchester #spnsmut #supernaturalsmut #supernatural #alpha!sam #x reader #supernatural a/b/o #spn au fanfiction #alpha!dean #moc #abo dynamics

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ragewerthers · 3 years

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Turn The Tide

Summary: After an attack from Niflheim against the Royal Navy of Insomnia leaves Gladio and his family reeling, the young officer decides to strike out on his own. Turning to a life of piracy, Gladio searches for a way to return the Eos and his family to the peace they once knew.

The first step? Locating the famed jewel, 'Leviathan's Heart' said to grant the holders true hearts desire. However, the journey may lead him to find that his true hearts desire isn't what he thought it was. Can Gladio find the peace he's searching for? And will he be able to turn the tide? A/n: Hello everyone!

This is my submission for the Promptio Big Bang 2020!

I decided to branch out and write a mermaid AU with these two lovelies and I hope I did them justice!

I was also paired with the amazing artist Inktail! Who was incredibly patient with me during the writing process and I will never be able to thank them enough for that!

You can find them and their work on Tumblr at: inkydoodles.tumblr or on Twitter at: @Kaittzie!

You can also read this fic on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379771/chapters/66909820

Enjoy! :D

Word count: 23242

--------------------------- Chapter 1/9:

Riptide:

“Captain Amicitia… we’re getting close to the Serpent's Labyrinth. Do you want us to deploy the scouting ships?”

Glancing up from his cluttered desk strewn with countless papers, books, and maps Gladiolus Amicitia, Captain of the infamous Daggerquill , couldn’t stop the smile starting to spread over his features. Standing up from his hunched over position, the larger man made his way toward the cabin’s window and glanced out. Sure enough, in the distance, the dark silhouette of the cove easily stood out against the setting sun and Gladio could feel his heart beating faster with adrenaline for what they were about to do.

“Tell first mate Ulric to lead the scouting group ashore,” he ordered, turning back toward the man and trying not to smirk at the way the gesture made the fairly new deckhand shy away from him slightly. “When he gives the signal I’ll be soon to follow.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” the young man shouted, quickly snapping to attention before making a hasty exit as if he couldn’t get away fast enough.

Chuckling to himself, Gladio shook his head. He liked to consider himself a fair and decent captain, but he knew his bulk and the rumors that followed him were sure to leave some less than favorable impressions with new deckhands. But the man had chosen to join their fight so he knew what he was getting into, and right now Gladio had more important matters to deal with than mollycoddling a new crewman.

Moving away from the window he made his way back to his desk, eyes roving over the map he’d been studying earlier. Faded by the sun and the salty sea air, this particular map had made its way through many hands, and up until now every poor soul who had attempted to unravel its mysteries had met a gruesome end. All in an effort to hunt down one of the Eos’s most renowned treasures.

The cursed jewel, Leviathan's Heart .

How many people had searched for it? How many had lost more than they had bargained for in hopes to lay claim to something so shrouded in mystery and allure?

This endeavor would end differently. Those who had searched before him had done so with greed in their hearts and had paid heavily for their desires. He was different. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes as those before him because he wasn’t fueled by such darkness. His drive was far nobler! His actions were far more chivalrous than the scoundrels who had attempted in the past. His drive was the need to protect… the need to save… the need to avenge what had been wronged so carelessly!

The smile that had been on the young Captain’s lips slowly tipped down into a frown at the thought, his amber eyes glancing over to catch the sight of his trusted cutlass. One his father had gifted to him years ago when he’d first joined the Royal Lucian Naval Academy.

It had been a drastically different time then. When he was a loyal soldier instead of the scourge of the seas. Before Niflheim had laid siege to everything he had held dear and loved. They were the ones who had turned him into this. Transformed him into a harbinger of destruction and fear that carried through the seas of the Eos. They had wanted to pick a fight and now they had one.

Niflheim had sought to bring the surrounding kingdoms to their knees, wanting to lay waste to any opposition so they could rule with complete autonomy over every last bit of land and drop of water. The kingdoms of Altissia, Tenebrae, and Lucis had openly denied any allegiance to such tyranny, and as such had been used to make examples of.

Gladio had been on the front lines when they had set their sights on the Crown jewel of Insomnia. His father and himself had been aboard the royal vessel Regalia and had attempted to stop the incoming enemy ships along with the ships Genji Blade and Oracle , but it had all been for naught. They had been outwitted and betrayed from the inside, half the crews on the Oracle and Gladio and his Fathers ship, Regalia had sealed their fate as charges were set off destroying them in an instant.

If it hadn’t been for his father's quick actions there was no chance he would’ve survived. As the bombs had detonated, Clarus had stepped in front of his son, shielding him from the blast and shoving him overboard and into the safety of the cool waters below.

The force of the push mixed with the rush of cold water had shocked his system and it had taken Gladio a few precious seconds to figure out which way was up, following the bubbles from his lungs to the surface. Upon breaking through, his eyes and ears were assaulted with the sounds of explosions and screaming, the once immaculate ships now burning timbers and billowing smoke. The Nif ships continued on uninhibited, moving closer to shore and setting off a barrage of cannon attacks against the coast.

The only thing that had gotten his frozen limbs to move again was the flicker of something to his left, and as his eyes moved to see the disturbance he saw his father barely hanging onto a piece of the fallen masts from one of their ships. Instantly his mind and body went into action, making his way over to grab the man before he could slip below the surface of the water. After that he set his mind in getting them both back to shore, muscles screaming in protest at the strain of trying to save them.

Once on shore, he had managed to drag his father and himself under one of the docks and out of sight for the time being. Hovering over the man who lay unconscious amongst the seaweed and rocks, Gladio had never felt as helpless as he had at that moment.

That moment was forever scorched in his memory, the sky red and black with devastation, and his chest filled with something he had thought he’d trained hard enough to conquer.

Undeniable fear.

It wasn’t until he had heard the familiar shout of Nyx Ulric that he finally snapped out of it. He was the Chief mate onboard Genji’s Blade and he and the remaining crewmen were currently looking for survivors as the Nif ships were distracted with the capture of Insomnia.

After that, it felt like the world was a mix of blurred memories and half-formed thoughts.

He remembered shouting for Nyx as he peered out from their hiding spot, seeing a small boat drifting closer to the shore. His arms trembled with exhaustion as he held onto his father and waved his free arm to try and catch their attention in the failing light of the day.

As he saw Nyx catching sight of them the last thing he remembered was muffled shouts, the feeling of darkness trickling into the edges of his sight, and then… nothing.

Gladio couldn’t recall how long he had been out when he woke up to the smell of fish and smoke, blinking blearily into the dingy light of what seemed to be an old fishing shack. Nyx had been the one to come in and check on him when Gladio had attempted and failed to get out of bed, landing on the creaky wooden floor.

Rushing in, Nyx had quickly helped to get Gladio back in bed, the man feeling like his limbs were more jelly than bone at the moment. But he needed to know what had happened in the time that he’d been out. Where were they? What had happened? Were there any other survivors? And what had happened to his own father?

The pain in Nyx’s eyes told him that what the man had learned he was far from happy to share. It appeared that they had been betrayed by their own countrymen and that most of the naval fleet had been lost. The hardest-hit had been Gladio’s own ship the Regalia, followed by the Oracle and there were only a few survivors that they had been able to find amongst both ships.

Hearing that, Gladio felt the blood run cold in his veins, throat constricting as emotion threatened to overwhelm him as to what had happened to his own father. Nyx could see the rising panic and was quick to quell his fears. Clarus had definitely taken the brunt of the explosion on the ship and had severe burns and bruising to his back, but luckily Nyx had been able to salvage a few potions from their own stock before setting out on their rescue mission. Upon finding them they were able to get Clarus stabilized until getting him into the hands of their medic, Crowe.

While an old fishing shack was not the best place to convalesce it was as good a hiding place as any at the moment. No one would think to search a run-down area like this for such high ranking officers and especially not when those present had watched them both fall into the depths below. Nyx also gave him a rundown of those who they had already been able to get into contact with. Apart from the remaining crew from the Genji’s Blade , they were already getting intel that there were others who’d been able to escape the Nif’s grasp. The King and some of his council had managed to escape along with a few other higher-ups from the Citadel. Gladio’s sister, Iris, had also been able to make it out of the Citadel with the help of Jared Hester, a trusted servant to the Amicitia household.

Apparently things were already being set into motion by a few of the higher-ups and Iris was already on her way to them and would arrive shortly if everything went accordingly. The plan after that was to try and rendezvous with a few other groups and then work on the counterattack. With that final bit of info and the reassurance that his family was as safe as it could be, Gladio once again lost the battle against sleep and had let it claim him once more.

The following weeks were the toughest he could remember. While Jared and Iris had been able to make it to the makeshift hideout it only helped to alleviate some of Gladio’s fears. Clarus was still down for the count as far as his health was concerned, but it hadn’t stopped him from meeting with and sending messages to other active groups looking for ways to stop the maelstrom that was Niflheim.

So far the course of action the older and more experienced of them had decided to take was to work in secrecy. To find the weakest points they could through what was more spy games than actual battle… and Gladio couldn’t stand it.

Why weren’t they seeking help from the surrounding kingdoms? Why couldn’t they ask their allies for aid during this time? Surely if they were able to get their help and with what they had experienced they were already better informed and the same mistakes wouldn’t happen again!

His father had tried to explain to him that with how their own forces were scattered at the moment, they could hardly ask for help from Altissia or Tenebrae. The best they could do right now was work from the shadows. But Gladio couldn’t understand. He refused to sneak around and talk about what they could do instead of act!

He hadn’t been the only one who felt this way. Nyx, and a good few crewmen from Genji’s Blade held the same opinion that action and a show of force with their greatest allies would be enough to stop the Nifs. But without the backing of the higher officials, there was little they could do to implement their plan and all they could do was sit and wait.

Though that was all to change with one small incident.

Unable to listen to another meeting between his father and a few other generals, Gladio had opted to head out in search of any new information on the Niflheim forces. The best place to gather such information was obviously the dockyard. There was no quicker way to hear gossip than those in the merchant trade and also a no better way to grab a few extra supplies. Donning a cloak to hide his features, he’d made his way from the shack hidden down the coast to the more bustling sea trading area and what he saw made him freeze.

Sitting in the dock was a dark timbered Nif ship, the lettering emblazoned on it reading ‘ Adagium ’. A ship that had been tasked with hunting down and rounding up the last of the survivors from the attack on the royal fleet. Slowly they had been getting closer, but Gladio hadn’t thought they’d think to check this area. None of them had even though the threat was there in the back of their minds.

He couldn’t let them search too far. He had to get back to his father. But then what?! While a few weeks had done Clarus wonders he was still in no shape to move and should they be found out they would be sitting ducks! What he needed to do was draw attention away! What he needed to do was become a distraction!

And with that single thought, something very simple had planted itself in Gladio’s mind.

There was something they could do.

There was a way for them to take action and show their force… but allow his father to continue to work in the shadows and undermine the Nifs. Find their weakness.

He needed to become the target. The distraction.

And it all started… with taking down that ship.

#ffxv #promptio big bang 2020 #promptiobigbang2020 #inktail #inkydoodles #my fic #FINALLY I CAN POST THIS BEAST #I'm so excited to share this!#I hope that everyone enjoys it!

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thywanderer · 3 years

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Fallen Star (Chapter 1 excerpt)

Hello everyone! I’ve been working on a Tangled AU fanfic lately and I thought I’d share some of it here! This is an excerpt from the first chapter. Not ready to post the full chapter just yet, but I should be soon!

For the story, this will be a Moon!Varian based AU with a few other ideas I had of what could have been a part of the show. The story centers around Varian and my oc, takes place in season 3 right after Rapunzel’s Return, and diverges from canon from there. So there will be major changes from season 3 in this story. Changes that I hope everyone can enjoy.

Please enjoy this snippet!

XxXxXxXx

The Moon shone brightly in a clear night, casting dim shadows through the large window of a castle. A few of the shadows twisted and turned in sinister shapes as thick bars lay across the tall window, keeping anyone from entering—or rather exiting said window.

An old grandfather clock ticked away in the far reaches of the circular room, creating a faint echo through the space. Large towering bookcases lined most of the room, reaching all the way to the ceiling. A ladder leading up to the top creaked as a figure climbed down. Jumping down once close enough to the bottom, the shadowy silhouette walked away from the bookshelves to go to the other side of the room. A large bed with a canopy sat near the window. On this bed were a tangle of blankets, strewn clothing on top, and a courier bag sitting at the end of the bed. The shadowed figure went to the end of the bed, digging through a creaky pine chest, shuffling through the assortment of items within. Pulling out some of the contents, the figure quickly stuffed them into the bag on the bed along with the book they had brought from the bookcase.

Going over to a vast wardrobe across from the bed, they pulled out a few clothing items before returning to the courier bag once more. Once finishing packing, they shut the bag before letting out a heavy sigh. Walking away from the bed, they slowly made their way over to the large window. The moonlight slowly revealed a young girl. She was perhaps in her teen years from the look of her. Nothing was particularly strange about her, save for the brilliant silver hair that fell in waves around her. It was long, falling about half way down her back, and her bangs brushed the tops of her silver brows. The color was very unique, nothing like the silver one may find on an elderly person. No, this hair almost glowed as the moonlight shone on it.

The girl let out another heavy sigh as she sat down on the windowsill. She gazed out to the grounds below, staring at the massive wall that surrounded the entirety of the castle. The light of the full Moon showed a few guards walking through the garden. Her blue eyes shifted to the top of the wall. The room was just high enough to see the valley woodlands beyond the castle. In the daytime, the girl knew the sight was breathtaking, which had always given her a deep yearning to go there.

The grandfather clock chimed, making the girl rise swiftly to her feet. She stood rigidly by the window, not moving an inch. Placing a hand to her chest, she took a deep breath before turning and promptly making her way to the door on the other side of the room. The door was something to behold. It was gigantic, made out of solid metal, and had massive lock mechanisms intertwining the entire construct. If one were to try and break down said door, it would be a miracle to even attempt such a feat. The girl knew this from experience as she stared at the gleaming door.

One by one, the locks on the door began to turn, clicking and clacking as it steadily unlatched. Finally, the door groaned and swung open a few inches. A male was seen kneeling by the entry, pushing forward a metal tray with an assortment of food. The girl crouched down, touching the tray gingerly.

"Hello. How's the night treating you?" the girl asked quickly, smiling sheepishly at the man. The guard’s eyes darted briefly to her before looking away.

"I'm sorry, Your Ladyship. You know I'm not allowed to speak with you," the man replied quietly.

The girl sighed, her smile dropping. "Yeah, I know." Her smile returned, though significantly less sunny than before. "Still, I wish you the best tonight."

"Thank you, my lady." The guard nodded before standing to heave the door shut once more.

The girl stood with tray in hand, listening to each lock fall back into place. She took the tray to one of her study desks by the bookshelves, placing it down onto the mess of papers scattered across the tabletop. There was not much food. A hunk of cheese. A small baggie of cookies. A flask of water. It was more akin to a traveller’s rations than an evening snack for a ladyship. She seized everything from the tray, hurriedly going over to her bag and shoving it all inside.

"Okay, okay . . . I think I have everything," she whispered in a breath to herself. She placed the bag over her shoulder before going back over to the tray. It was empty now with just a silver plate left on it. She turned it over to reveal a large key that was stuck to the back. Pulling it off, she held it close to her chest as she made her way back over to the broad door. "Oops, almost forgot." She went back over, grabbing the glass cup from the tray before stepping to the door. She pressed the cup to the metal and then her ear to the bottom of the cup. She waited with bated breath, straining to listen.

Soon, she heard the guard change coming up the stairs.

"Evening, Henry," came a gruff sounding male voice. She could barely hear this through the thick metal, but was glad she could.

"Ready for the night to be over," replied Henry, the man who had given her the food moments before.

"Aye, I hear you," said the gruff man. There was some shuffling of steps.

"Wait, do you hear something?" said Henry, sounding concerned.

"What?"

"It came from the window."

"Huh? I don't hear anything."

The girl flinched as she heard a loud thunk and a sharp surprised gasp from a man before the falling of a body to the floor. Acting quick, she tossed the glass aside and whipped out a black ribbon from her trouser pocket to tie her hair back with a bow before pushing the key into the keyhole on the door. All locks made a loud clack collectively as she turned the key. With a grunt, she pulled hard on the door, making it open slowly. She felt she was not moving quick enough. Time was short now for her.

She managed to squeeze through the small gap she had made in the doorway. Stepping out into the dimly lit hallway, she saw the new guard was unconscious on the ground at her feet. Looking at the other man, she saw how he sheathed his sword and knew he had used the hilt of it to knock out the guard.

"Thank you, Henry," she breathed as she pulled out the large wrench from the strap on her leg. "Sorry about this."

"Don't worry, I've dealt with worse," chuckled Henry. She closed her eyes as she struck him on the back of the head with her wrench, peeking them open as soon as she heard him fall to the floor. She felt bad about having to hurt him, but she had to make it look believable. Henry would have been in a lot more trouble if it looked like he had helped her in any way.

Turning down the hallway, she walked away from the stairs (what would have been the obvious exit) and instead opened the window at the end of the hall. Retrieving a strange device from her bag that looked like a small crossbow of sorts, she then pointed it at the wall that surrounded the castle. At the end of this mini crossbow was a three-clawed hook resembling that of an eagle's talon. Squinting, she aimed carefully before firing the device. Out shot the claw from the device, sailing true and straight to the wall. It hit the top of the wall, sinking into the stone with ease. The girl tugged a bit on the rope that was attached to the claw across the way, making certain it was securely fastened before climbing up onto the window's ledge. Letting out a small wavering breath, she wrapped the rope's end securely in her hand before making a leap out of the window. The cool air of the night felt amazing as she swung across the large gap between the castle and the wall, her silvery hair blowing behind her in a ponytail. Placing her feet out, she used them to brace herself when she hit the wall. With quick action, she hooked the rope into the crossbow-like tool. She then cranked on the device before releasing a small lever on the side of the bow. It whirled to life, feeding the rope through itself causing the girl to practically fly up to the wall's top. Once at the top, she hurriedly walked across the top of the wall and prepared herself to go down the other side.

Her blue eyes drifted back to the old, unwelcoming castle behind her, the place that had been her only home her whole life. She felt a mixture of emotions as she stared at it. But her expression grew determined as she flipped a lever on her device and she was lowered to the ground below. The moment her feet touched the grass, she yanked the rope and caused the claw on the wall to release, falling back to her. Flipping the lever from before, the rope spun and the claw was back in place on the device once more. Putting her device back into her bag, she looked at the wall while slowly backing up.

"Goodbye," she whispered, before smiling brightly and turning to the woods before her, running into the night.

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years

Text

Can I Look, Miss O’Keefe?

PART SIXTEEN OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: mentions of parent death and family issues, we’re back to being super emo folks, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: Distance grows between Ella and Jess as they dance around forbidden topics and discuss their fears.

Crunchy snow and ice coated the streets of Stars Hollow, and large flakes fell from the dark, cloudy sky as Ella sat up, awake in the Gilmore living room. The monkey lamp on the side table offered a yellow glow. It was the early hours of the morning, New Year’s Eve. Christmas had come and gone, and the days before the return to school were filled with good books and movie marathons. Though Lane had gone home earlier, before they finished their last John Hughes flick, Lorelai insisted Ella stay on the couch for the night. It was past midnight and the roads were in no condition to be walked on. And though she was comfortable, probably more relaxed than she was in her own home, she’d tossed and turned for about an hour before deciding the effort was hopeless.

Instead, she took the copy of Slaughterhouse Five from her bag and read quietly, adding her own notes to the margins alongside Jess’s. Before, the room would have been drafty. But Luke had recently fixed the windows (again). Ella was cozy beneath a bunch of spare blankets, dressed in only a tank top and a borrowed pair of Rory’s sweatpants. The Gilmore women were tall though, and Ella had to cuff the pants at the bottom so they wouldn’t drag on the floor when she walked. Her eyes were starting to get heavy, but she was too engrossed in the story to consider putting it down. She had no idea what time it was, though it was still pitch black outside, when soft footfalls sounded on the stairs.

Clearing her throat, Ella marked a place in the book with her finger, and looked up to see a sleepy Lorelai. “Hi, sorry. Did I wake you?”

Lorelai shook her head slightly. “No, sweetie. I got up to use the bathroom and I saw the light was on. Wanted to make sure you and Rory didn’t start a midnight cult behind my back or something.”

“That does sound like us,” Ella said, cracking a small smile.

Lorelai sat down on the coffee table next to the couch, elbows on her knees. “What’s going on?”

Shrugging, Ella averted her eyes and gestured to her book. “Oh, just reading. Jess gave me his copy and I wanted to be done by our shift tomorrow. There’s just so much to argue about.”

“Well, it’s good to know I need to steer clear of you two tomorrow, but is that really why you’re up with Vonnegut at almost three in the morning?” Lorelai asked, tilting her head.

Ella hesitated a moment, but then sighed and clutched at her necklace. “I just...people are starting to get college decisions in the mail. And...I don’t know.”

“You’re gonna get in, Ella. You’ve got perfect grades, and a job, and-”

Scoffing, Ella nodded. “Yeah, I just...I’m gonna have to live at home. And I’m worried I’ll never get outta here.”

“Stars Hollow?” Lorelai asked, sympathetic.

She nodded again. “I mean...I wanna live in a city. Where every day I walk out the door to new people, and there’s new places to go and...I know and like this town. I do. But it stopped being home the day my mom died.”

Though she had passion in her voice and a smile still on her lips, Lorelai could see the sadness in Ella’s far-off gaze. It was something so striking and mature, something she never saw in Rory or Lane. Though Rory was an old soul in her own right, Lorelai could see Ella out on her own and doing just fine by the very next day. Lorelai leaned in a little closer, and the mothering tone came to her voice, which she had used on Ella more times than one in the past two and a half years.

“Ella, I want you to listen to me. You are smart, and talented, and you’re one of the strongest people I know,” Lorelai said, and raised a hand as Ella scoffed at her words. “I know it feels like it’ll take forever. But you have to be patient, okay? I know that one day you’ll get to have everything you want.”

Shaking her head, Ella swallowed back the shine in her eyes. “You can’t know that.”

“But I can. I have the sight,” Lorelai said mystically. “It’s a certified Gilmore talent.”

It made Ella chuckle a little, and Lorelai smiled in response. “Okay, Lorelai.”

“Sweetie, I spent years living in a shed, just me and Rory. I was a maid who worked eighty hours a week. But now, I have a house and I’m a manager and I…” she paused to sigh, gesturing to the room around them while she tried to articulate her thoughts. “Anything worth having is gonna take time. You’ll get there. I know it.”

Blowing out a soft breath, Ella leaned back against the pillows. “Okay. Thank you. Sorry for being such a freak.”

“Hardly,” Lorelai said, shaking her head. “Freaks are the only people worth being around. I think you already know that.”

“That I do.”

Lorelai rose from the table and draped the blankets up over Ella more. “Now go to sleep. You’ve gotta be in fighting shape if you’re going up against John Bender tomorrow.”

Ella scoffed. “I could take him on no sleep at all.”

Laughing, Lorelai made for the stairs. “I’d bet on you.”

“Hey, Lorelai?” Ella called, snuggling down into the couch and turning onto her side.

Lorelai turned. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything. I mean, I’ll never be able to-”

“Sweetie,” Lorelai interrupted, a kind expression softening her face. “You’re welcome. Now, dream of those Eggos we’ll feast on in the morning.”

. . .

Tuckered out from a long day of waitressing and literary sparring, Ella leaned her head on her crossed arms against the counter. She sat at a stool, already dozing by ten o’clock. Having finished up closing the front of house early, with Luke’s help, she waited for Jess to complete his dishwashing duties. He was back over the steaming vat as soon as his stitches were yanked out. Upstairs, she could hear Luke trying to set up his small, black-and-white TV. Her thoughts were becoming hazy when Jess finally emerged from the back, smirking.

“You told me not to let you fall asleep yet, Stevens,” he said.

She lifted her head, brows furrowed. “I can do what I please, Mariano.”

“Oooo, angry face,” he teased.

“Fuck off,” she grumbled, clearing her throat as she hopped down off the stool.

“Oh, this is bound to be an amazing night.”

Ella tugged on her coat and grabbed her bag. “Sorry, sorry. Just give me five minutes and I’ll be back to Little Miss Sunshine.”

Jess snorted a laugh. “I think that’s too ambitious.”

“You underestimate me, Mariano,” she quipped, smirking. Going back over to the checkered curtain, she shouted up the stairs. “Hey Luke, we’re leaving!”

“Okay!” he yelled back.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay and celebrate with you?” she asked, ignoring Jess when he shook his head at her. She’d been asking it over and over all day. No matter how much Luke insisted, she couldn’t believe he actually wanted to spend New Year’s alone.

Finally, Luke opened the apartment door and she could see him at the top of the creaky stairs. “For God’s sake, go. No drinking, drugs-”

“Or animal sacrifices, I got it!” she finished for him, smirking.

“And Jess will be back by-”

“Two!” Jess chimed in, tone flat and his mouth set in a thin line.

“Happy New Year!” Ella said, grabbing Jess’s hand and leading him towards the front door.

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke grunted, shutting the apartment door behind him.

. . .

Ella could feel the rumble of Jess’s voice, her head on his chest, as they laid together in her bed. The lavender candles were lit, and her old alarm clock was set for ten til midnight. A bottle of red wine sat in the fridge, the only alcohol left in the house by her father and Fiona before they went out of town to celebrate with Fiona’s sister in Nevada. They were going to toast when the clock on the stove struck midnight, then go back to her room to continue with Jess’s reading of Frankenstein. Originally, the plan had been to watch the Twilight Zone marathon all night. But, Adam and his friends had gotten to the living room first, playing video games on the modest TV. Being confined to her bedroom wasn’t so bad, but the challenge for Ella was staying awake. Jess chose the Mary Shelley novel simply because he knew how much she loved the story, hoping she wouldn’t fall asleep to it. Especially because he knew he wouldn’t have the heart to wake her if she truly fell asleep.

Shifting in her space, Ella caught a glance at the clock and saw it was a half hour to midnight. Jess was halfway through a passage, and she sat up with crossed legs and looked down at him, yawning.

“Jess?” she asked when there was a pause in the text.

“Hm?”

“Are you happy?”

His brows furrowed and he sat up against the mural. “Excuse me?”

Scoffing, she averted her gaze. “I just mean...working at Walmart and Luke’s and being...here? In Stars Hollow?”

Jess shrugged, setting the book aside and crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not too terrible a place to be. And I plan to get out of Stars Hollow.”

“And go where?” she asked, eyes rimmed red with fatigue.

“Wherever.”

She smirked at his nonchalance. “And write?”

Again, he shrugged, sitting up straighter. “Maybe. I’ll live where I live and work where I work.”

Ella snorted a laugh. “Alright, Kerouac. So you’re not going back to New York?”

He shook his head, expression guarded.

“You don’t miss it?”

Though he seemed to hesitate a moment, his tone was firm when he spoke again. His eyes were somewhere else, staring over at the stack of records near her dresser. Led Zeppelin played low from the turntable, another effort to stay awake. “Miss my mom drinking herself into accepting random wedding proposals and barely scrounging up enough cash to keep the heat on?”

Her heart sank into her stomach, and, instinctively, she began to run her fingers through his hair. On break from school, she noticed he used gel and other products less and less. It was more relaxed and fell down a little over his forehead.

“No, I can’t say I’m bending over backwards to get back there again,” he said.

Ella nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing for you to be sorry over,” he replied immediately, though not angry. He wanted to squirm under her touch, still uncomfortable talking about his past, but tried to relax.

“Hey,” she said softly, after a momentary silence. Jess finally met her eyes again. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

As she kissed him sweetly, slow and simple, he interlaced their fingers, finally losing the tension in his body. Skin against skin, she could feel the thin, pinkish scar on his hand. When she pulled away, he put his arm around her shoulders and she moved to lean back against him. His free hand was still in hers, and she touched the scar gingerly.

“And you wanted me to wait for Luke to superglue this up,” she said, with a teasing shake of her head.

He rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t have died.”

Ella sighed. “Anything’s possible.”

Jess bit his lip, feeling his heart twist slightly. Though he’d heard a fair bit about her mother, he still didn’t know how she died. From the way the townspeople sometimes looked at her, with so much pity and sympathy, Jess could gather it wasn't a ‘going gently into that good night’ kind of situation. Whatever had happened, it had been sudden, and it had been shocking. He pressed a kiss to her head and tried to keep his voice light.

“Well, it definitely wasn’t as Texas Chainsaw Massacre as the other time I got stitches.”

“The other time?” she asked, looking up at him.

Swallowing dryly, he held out his left arm for her to see, sleeve rolled up. On the inside of his forearm, near his elbow, there was a large, semicircular scar, pale and raised, but old. For a moment Ella wondered why she’d never noticed it before, but she knew if she wasn’t looking for it, she wouldn’t ever have spotted it.

“Jesus. What happened?” she asked, a crease between her brows.

“Cujo,” he said, smirking slightly. “This dog across the hall from us when I was five. I tried to pet him and he wasn’t on quite the same wavelength.”

“Fuck, Jess,” she said, shaking her head slightly. Ella squeezed his hand.

“It’s alright,” he said. “World bites you, dog bites boy. It’s chaos out there.”

She chuckled a little, nodding. “Sad but true.”

“Did you ever get stitches?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “But, your dogs and needles are my oceans.”

“Oceans?” Jess asked.

“When I was seven, we went to Ogunquit to visit my grandparents. It was the only time I ever went to a beach, and I got caught in a riptide. I didn’t pass out or anything, but I drifted out pretty far before my dad got me. Waves kept crashing over me and I kept going under.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to cancel those tickets to Bora Bora, huh?”

She smiled. “Yeah, I’d recommend it.”

He smiled back, then they settled back down into the bed, Jess grabbing the book again. Before he started, however, he looked over at her in askance.

“Are you happy, Eleanor?”

“At this moment? Very.”

. . .

Storming into the diner, Ella shook the snow from her peacoat and unwound her scarf, huffing in frustration. January was frigid, but Ella’s blood boiled and her heart pounded in her ears. Schoolwork weighed down her bag, heavy with post-break assignments and reading. Once inside, the heat hit her pleasantly, but her nose began to run and her face flushed. She wasn’t surprised to find Jess not inside the diner; he’d been at school only twice in the past week and he was taking more shifts at Walmart than he once had. New Year’s had been a good night, a kiss at midnight and heads buzzing on red wine as Ella walked Jess back to the diner in fresh snow and the twinkling light of the town square.

But she could see something was bothering him. He didn’t leave quite as many notes in the margins, looked tired most of the time. And each time she asked him about it, he brushed it off, told her he was fine, and pressed a heated kiss to her lips. He didn’t call her as often. The recent disconnect between them, which she thought now might have begun even back in early December, did nothing to help her current mood. She went to the back to grab her apron, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ears. If he didn’t want to talk, she didn’t need to talk to him. Whatever he needed to work out, apparently he wanted to do it on his own. It was what she said whenever Luke asked after him. She wasn’t his mother, and Luke was his guardian. It wasn’t her job to fix Jess. And, in her mind, Jess didn’t need fixing.

Luke stood behind the counter filling coffee mugs, and he nodded at her as she passed. “Hey, Ella. How are ya? You have a good week?”

“I’m just peachy,” she said back, no emotion in her voice.

Perking up, Luke furrowed his brows at her. She wasn’t known for being cheery, exactly, but usually she strung together more than three words. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said quietly, her voice a sigh.

“C’mon, kid, we’re well past white lies,” Luke said, hands on his hips.

Ella rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, an ache behind her eyes. It wasn’t migraine level, but the throbbing pain made her feel a little sick to her stomach.

“They got married,” she said shortly.

“What?” Luke asked.

Sighing, she watched Babette and Maury walk in, waving at them with a tiny smile.

“Hey, sugar! We’ll need a minute to order!” Babette called in her breathy, gravelly voice. It made Ella feel marginally better.

Her serious demeanor returned when she turned back to Luke. “My dad and Fiona got married. In Vegas. They took a whole week off—who knows how they could afford it on an electrician’s and a hairdresser’s salary—and apparently they thought: ‘Hey, let’s get married, not tell anyone, and not call for the whole week. In fact, let’s not go visit Fiona’s sister,’ which is what they said they were doing in the first place.”

There was a beat of silence, and finally Luke nodded, mouth slightly agape. “Wow.”

“Yeah, so, that’s what’s wrong. There ya go,” she said, taking a rag and wiping down some water on the counter. She didn’t meet Luke’s eyes.

“Ella, I’m-”

She raised a dismissive hand to stop him. “Luke, don’t worry, it’s alright. They seem happy, so, who am I to care? And besides, now I don’t have to give some phony speech at the wedding.”

. . .

The Clash blasted through the boombox, and though it did nothing to help her headache, it, oddly, made her heart slow. It took her mind off the storm of emotions brewing in the pit of her stomach. What if they ended up having another kid? Would her father mend the mistakes of his past? Would he see the error of his ways? She doubted it. People didn’t change. They acted differently, but they didn’t change. Sometimes, she knew, all people wore disguises. It made fear rise up in her throat, and her hands shake. But, instead, she sang along to “Bank Robber” and drew a garden full of roses and wasps. On the other side of the page, there was a sketch of Fiona with a veil over her head. It almost made her want to cry.

Luke was closing up downstairs, and offered the apartment to her to hang out in for a few hours after her shift. He knew what her home could be like. And the practice felt bittersweet and familiar to her; she’d spent many an afternoon at Luke’s kitchen table, sketching in the days after she lost her mother. The words she’d spoken to Lorelai a few nights earlier spun around in her brain. She would never be able to accept her mother’s death until Stars Hollow was in her rearview mirror. Everything seemed to be a reminder. Though maybe it wasn’t location-specific. Maybe it’s just what happened when you lost someone close to you.

It was long past dark outside when Jess stepped through the door, blue vest in his hand. His dark hair was gelled and crazy. He kicked off his boots and a smirk covered his face when he saw her there. And no matter how conflicted she felt about him at the moment, a sense of relief filled her at the sight of him, and she couldn’t help but smirk back from her spot sitting up in his bed. She took her sketchbook from her knee, closed it, and dropped it on his nightstand.

“Hi,” he said, putting his vest in the top drawer of his dresser. As he walked by the boombox, he turned it down slightly so he could hear her.

“Hey, sorry. I didn’t think you’d get off until later. I stole your bed,” she replied, scooting up to the head of the bed as Jess sat down on the end.

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Well, I can assure you, there was no tequila involved today,” Ella said, crossing her arms over her Sonic Youth t-shirt. “Just didn’t wanna go home yet.”

“What’s up?”

She shrugged and clutched at her necklace with one nail-bitten hand. “Long story short: That rendezvous to Nevada Fiona and my dad took? They got married by some Elvis impersonator in Vegas and just...didn’t tell anyone until yesterday.”

She thought of the night before when she had, in a rage, called the diner to tell him. Jess had been the only one she wanted to talk to, the only one her heart was aching for. Instead, Luke picked up and told her Jess was out.

Jess sighed, and put a hand on her jean-clad knee. “I’m sorry, honey.”

Ella ran her fingers through her messy hair and then took his hand in hers. She sat closer to him, until their knees were touching, but still she didn’t lock eyes with him. Jess could practically see the gloom radiating off her. Dark makeup painted her eyes. Black Doc Martens were discarded at the side of the bed. Her nails, polished in chipped black, were still bitten down. But, she managed a small smile.

“It’s fine. I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

“Okay,” he said shortly, nodding. Finally, she looked at him and bit her lip. His face was drawn in fatigue.

Bringing her hand to his cheek, Ella’s gaze softened. He leaned into her touch. “Are you okay, Jess?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

“Seems like you’ve been working a lot. You haven’t been at school. I just...are you sleeping alright?” she asked, hesitant.

Jess did his best to straighten up, nodding. “Stevens, don’t worry. Luke just won’t let me keep the music on to sleep anymore. I’m still getting used to it.”

She nodded and kissed him, hearing the song switch in the background. “Okay, James Dean. Just checking.”

Clearing his throat to hide the flush in his cheeks, Jess cracked a smirk. Ella thought she saw something flash across his eyes, but she couldn’t identify it. For the first time since they started dating, there seemed to be a charged energy lingering in the silence between them. Without the music playing, Ella knew she wouldn’t have been able to handle it. She would’ve blurted out everything going through her head, but she refrained. Instead, she watched Jess’s eyes move to her sketchbook on his table, his grin widening.

“Can I look, Miss O’Keefe?” he asked.

Pursing her lips, she let her worry fade and took on a teasing air. “Only if you don’t laugh.”

“Never.”

#jess mariano au #jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano imagines #jess #mariano #gilmore girls #gilmore girls fanfiction #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls imagines #luke danes #lorelai gilmore #jess mariano x oc #original character #original character stories

32 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

Fine Line

For @razzlezronnie as requested for a Raffle prize!

Warnings: non/dubcon elements, rough sex, violence.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You and Steve are agents with benefits. You and Bucky are not. What happens when you toe the line between two super soldiers?

It started off innocently enough. You always had a quick tongue and slower filter. Mission after mission with the golden boy, Steve Rogers, and you couldn’t help but tease him. He was so staunch on being the valiant avenger that you were suffocating. You tossed out the subtle jabs; ‘frisbee boy’ and ‘Mr. PSA.’ He really didn’t appreciate it but his exasperation was entertaining. Almost endearing. And then he snapped.

The two of you were on reconnaissance. You had just finished your observation and were headed back to the safe house. He was yawning as you drove and you remarked that you thought the serum would’ve been akin to a 24-hour energy for life. He didn’t laugh. Really, he didn’t get the reference, much like the majority of your jokes. You chuckled for him and kept your eyes on the road; another dry comment about the grouchy old veteran.

His hand was on your thigh in an instant. You almost swerved as he squeezed it, the heat of his palm travelling up your leg. You looked over at him, daring a glance away from the dark road. He stared you down, blue eyes alight in the dim. You were suddenly out of jokes. You cleared your throat and concentrated on the wheel once more. He didn’t move his hand.

You pulled over five minutes from the safe house. You couldn’t focus. Before the engine was dead, he was unbuttoning your pants. You seat was reclined and he was on top of you. It happened so fast that after you were in shock. He wasn’t the innocent boy from the 1940s; he was a man. He had shown you that. Your next mission ended much the same. When it was just you two, you couldn’t help but indulge in each other. Him to mute your witticisms and you to ease his vestal demeanour. He was far from pure.

It was all fun and games until you were joined by a third wheel. You gathered that Bucky didn’t like you much. You always caught his quiet glares and grumbled words. His blue eyes burned into you and he blatantly kept his distance from you. When you were with Steve, Bucky’s arms crossed and his eyes rolled. Was he jealous or just loathsome? You couldn’t really figure him out. He was kind of like this with everyone.

“You guys sure would be a sight showing up to the VA,” You jibed as they climbed into the car. You took the backseat as the super soldiers sat in the front.

Bucky muttered as he started the car. Steve chuckled. This would be a long mission. Even if the Cap had managed to loosen up, his crotchety old pal hadn’t. You weren’t really sure what could get through to that one. He was as robotic as his arm. You wondered if perhaps they had programmed the humour right out of him. You sat back and crossed your arms. You wished it was just you and Steve. You would at least have something to look forward to then.

The car ride was long. Quiet. When at last you arrived at the rendezvous, you were anxious to get out. You stretched as you stepped out into the early evening air and yawned. Steve’s door opened but he sat a moment before climbing out. “How are those joints, old man?” You teased. He cracked his knuckles and laughed.

“Better than yours,” He returned as your shoulder made an audible click.

You chuckled as you went around to the trunk to get your bag, meeting Bucky there as he pulled it open. He scowled at you as he took his bag from the bunch. “Old man,” He muttered, “Better than a dumb girl.”

“Excuse me?” You forgot about your bag and followed him as he made to step away.

“You heard me,” He sneered. “You’re not funny, you know that? All your smart little remarks.”

“I never said I was.” You snapped, “It’s called making conversation...being human.”

He rolled his eyes and brushed past you. “Steve, hurry up. We should figure out who’s on first watch.” You shook your head and headed back to the open trunk, grabbing your bag just before Steve closed it. You followed behind him, keeping your distance as Bucky walked at his shoulder and spoke to him in a low voice. Great. Bucky wasn’t the third wheel; you were.

Inside was as basic as any safe house. Some cots in a common room. Small cooking area with a rusted old sink; a bathroom with a creaky door; shuttered in windows, and no room for privacy. Amazing; trapped in a single room with the grouchiest old man in the world. Even if Steve were there, you wouldn’t have a chance to ease the tension. Maybe you could sneak out to the car for a quickie.

No, you watched as Bucky set up his cot all while chattering with Steve, he’d know. You couldn’t imagine his reaction if he knew you were fucking his best friend. You assumed he was jealous of your banter with Steve. The man was a lone wolf with separation anxiety. Ever since he had joined the team, he had been oddly predatory of his old comrade. Especially towards you.

You unfolded your own cot and sat on it, pulling out the worn issue of The Picture of Dorian Gray from your bag. You had read it in high school and picked it up again whenever you needed distraction. It was the same issue you had gotten as teen. As you opened it you looked over the top, Bucky sitting with arms crossed on his cot as he stared you down. “What do you want?”

“I’m on first watch,” He said evenly, “You’ve got second. You should probably sleep…” His eyes read the cover of the book, “Put away your little fantasies.”

Steve was blissfully oblivious to the interaction. He was already across his cot, his back to you as he tried to lull himself to sleep. That or he was used to Bucky’s attitude and figured you could handle yourself. Whatever. You kept your book open and laid back on your caught, one hand under your head as you found your place.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be well rested.” You smiled and heard his mutter. It was worth it just to piss him off.

The next day, you volunteered to go out for reconnaissance. It would be a nice break from the irritable soldier sitting across from you; glaring constantly; huffing at each word you said. You spent the whole day watching the arms dealer; tailing him. The drive alone was two hours and by the time you returned, the moon had replaced the sun. All that and you hadn’t gotten much more than you had gone in with.

You pulled up, the hairs on your neck rising as you found Steve sitting on the front step, his duffel at his side. You got out of the car and neared him. “What’s going on? Did the old buzzard lock you out?” You kidded.

“Not exactly,” He stood, “Tony called. He needs me elsewhere.”

“No,” You said in a low drawl. “You can’t go.”

“I don’t have a choice,” He shrugged, “Trust me, it sucks as much for me as you. I was hoping, well, maybe we’d sneak away tonight but...so it goes.”

“We only have one car,” You argued.

“Keep it. I have a ride on the way. You’re only lucky you got here first. I’d hate to go without a goodbye.” He sighed and you heard the distant sound of tires on gravel. “Seems you got here just in time.”

“Fuck,” You swore, “Maybe I’ll sleep in the car.”

“Look, I know Bucky can be a jerk. That’s just him,” He watched over your shoulder as headlights flashed, “He’ll get over it. He’s not good with strangers. Just...try to keep the sass to a minimum and focus on the mission.” He looked to you and smirked as his eyes strayed to your body. “When you get back, I’ll help you forget all about it.”

“Fine,” You really didn’t have a choice.

You crossed your arms and gave a begrudging goodbye as the black car pulled up and Sam greeted the pair of you. You shook your head as you watched them drive away. You stared out into the night as you paced outside the door. You should just throw yourself to the coyotes rather than the wolf inside.

Within, Bucky was on his cot. Silent. You didn’t dare look at him and focused instead on finding your own. You sat and pulled off your shoes. Your civilian clothes weren’t as comfortable as your gear. You yawned into your hand. He was oddly quiet. Unbearably so. You reached down to your bag, hoping to distract yourself with Oscar Wilde’s prose, but your book wasn’t there. You glanced around until finally your eyes rested on your only company.

He had your book in his hands, his eyes flashing across the page. Your blood boiled and you stood, stomping over to him. You went to snatch the book but he caught your wrist before your fingers could close around the pages. He snapped the book shut with one hand and tossed it aside, sitting up swiftly as he kept hold of you.

“It’s a good book,” He said, “Figure since Steve was off, I’d keep myself busy.”

“You could’ve asked?” You yanked away but he kept his grip on you. “Let go.” He eyes you, a subtle smirk on his lips. He slowly released you and sat back. You reached for your book and grumbled as you retreated back to your cot. “Fucking Mr. Roboto over here.”

He watched as you opened the book though you were unable to focus on the words. “I’ll take first again.” He said after a moment.

“Whatever you want, Arnie,” You muttered as you flipped the page.

His feet hit the floor hard as he stood. You ignored him as he neared you, his metal fingers covering the page before you. After a brief struggle, he won the book from you and held it up in front of your face. He bent the spine back entirely and tore it in half. “I’m not Steve,” He snarled, “I won’t put up with your bullshit.” He dropped the remnants of the book, “One more word…” He held up a single vibranium finger.

“Fuck off,” You spat and turned yourself to lay across your cot; your back to him as you crossed your arms. You were upset about the book more than him. It had been with you for years; had gone with you everywhere. It was stupid but it had been a little good luck charm for you.

As you closed your eyes, you were suddenly short of breath. Cold metal closed around your throat and you were pulled off the cot. You slammed to the floor as Bucky let you go and the wind was knocked from you. He planted his booted foot atop your chest and you grabbed onto it desperately.

“What the fuck?” You gasped.

“You’re overdue for a lesson in respect,” He growled, adding weight to his boot before sliding it off of you. He turned so that he stood with his feet on either side of you, falling to his knees before you could wriggle away. “That tongue of yours,” He smacked you and your head snapped to the side. “In my day, a woman knew when to shut up.”

You struggled beneath him, trying to shift his weight from on top of you. His metal hand caught your wrists and pinned them over his head as he leaned over you. His face was just above yours. “Someone needs to put you in your place,” You felt his other hand moving around lower, the zip of his pants had your eyes wide. You tried to snake out from under him but his hold on your wrists and his thighs around you had you trapped.

“Please, don’t,” You whimpered. The fear turned your blood cold. “Bucky!”

“Bucky!” He mimicked and slapped you again. “This is going to be a lesson learned the hard way.” He sat back on his haunches, still gripping your wrists, as he shoved his free hand into his pants. “You could start by shutting the fuck up.” He pulled his cock out and you kicked your legs desperately.

His stroked himself until he was hard as you tried not to look at what he was doing. You glanced around desperately. Even if you shouted, it’d do you no good. It was a safe house. It was in the middle of nowhere.

“Would you fucking stop?” He slammed your wrists down and searched around. He grabbed your shoe and swiftly unlaced it, ignoring your fists as they slammed against his thighs. He caught your arms and forced them over your head. He tightly bound them with the shoelace, the flesh burning as you found the knot immovable.

He shifted back slightly and tore open your fly, the button flying across the room with a ping. He moved off of you briefly and tugged at the waist of your jeans. As you tried to kick him, he pulled them down your legs along with your panties, untangling them roughly. Freed from your bottoms, you rolled onto your stomach and tried to get yourself up. He kicked you forward onto your face, your nose cracking against the floor.

He dragged you back by your ankles and knelt between your legs. He hooked an arm around your neck, his weight on top of you as you felt his cock prodding at your ass. You whined and banged your tied hands helplessly against the floor. You felt the blood as it spouted from your throbbing nose. He held the base of his cock as he guided himself to your entrance. You tried to angle your pelvis away from him and he removed his hand to tuck under you and forced your back to arch.

His tip pressed against your hole as you were pinned below him. You dropped your head and bit your lip as he began to enter you. You were dry. He slammed into you in one sharp thrust and you shrieked into the wooden floorboards. “Fuck,” He sighed, “What’s the matter, bitch?” He growled in your ear, “Hmm? You not used to a real man.” His arm tightened around your neck and you gurgled. The blood from your nose slid down the back of your throat.

His thrusts were agonizing. When at last your body began to respond, you were both relieved and ashamed. He chuckled darkly as he felt it too. He was jolting your whole body, your bare thighs catching on slivers along the floor. You tried to twist your wrists free but there was no give in the laces. Your walls ached, your entrance tender as he continued to work into you.

How could Steve leave you here with him? Did he know Bucky was like this? The thought of him made it worse. What would you tell him? What would Bucky tell him? What could you say?

Bucky unslung his arm from around you and pushed himself up so that his weight was centered on his pelvis, crashing into over and over again. You were prone, limp, your nerves flurrying to an unwanted orgasm and you shook beneath him. He rutted on top of you, holding your lower back as his hips bucked into you.

He removed himself from you suddenly. You laid cold and numb before him as he rested on his haunches. His cum shot across your ass, sprinkling along your back. You panted, unmoving, a husk disposed of. He stood, dragging his boots around you as he did his pants up. He slid his foot under your stomach and kicked you onto your back.

“The next time you spout of that little mouth of yours, I'll make sure to put it to good use.” He toed you one last time before he sank into his cot, hands under his head as he sighed.

His snores were the only sound as you curled up where he had left you. You spent the night forgotten by both super soldiers. Alone and painfully awake.

tags: @thepettyavenger @tuyetnhivo @thosecikinnn @glitterypinkkitty @thoughtlesstales @selinbaskaya @vitamingrant @lilithhellfire @bbyspiiice @blackpantherimagines @kweenkxtrina @heavenlyblyss @letsagomario @collette04 @secretlyactivated @xxm3xxj @roses-and-absinthe @asleep-amid-the-flowers @mrsbarneswillseeyounow @breezy1415 @alexakeyloveloki @beautiful-and-strange @phoenix21love @momc95 @buckycaptspideypool @justballoonfishthings @ms-munchkin @whosmarisaaarw @kxllyxnnx @calspixie @imdiegohargreeves @satinprincessxo @amethyst-the-thot @docharleythegeekqueen @iiqueer-vibesii @carol-damn-vers @l0rd-disick @jilldsumner @hufflebucky @lanabanana-86 @nerdypinupcrystal @notyourtypicalrose @pink1031 @agent-spidey @wassupbitchesssss @lucifersnipnips @thirstyforsomeyandere @xxm3xxj @roses-and-absinthe @stuckybarton

#bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky #dark bucky barnes #dark!fic #raffle #request #fic #au #dark fic #mcu #marvel #one shot #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader

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hardyimagines · 5 years

Text

Summer In Italy

Part 2 of 5

Reader is spending the days with her family at their 17th-century villa in Italy. Reader meets Tom, a handsome scientific student who's working as intern for her father. Reader and Tom discover the beauty of awakening desire. ( Smut/Heated Scenes )

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Warnings: masterbation & smut talk & kissing & age gap

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What a long, long week.

The sun hadn’t been out in what felt like forever. Lombardy had been drowning in shadows for 7 days. The clouds overhead were gray and dark, refusing to let the sun be seen. You’d been sat at the same window, in the same position for the last three hours, tracing the glass as the raindrops raced along the pane. The pool, you could see it in the distance, was green and murky, full of leaves and dirt from the harsh winds that whipped the surrounding branches and grass directly toward the uncovered pool. The blame would fall on you seeing as you were the last one to use the pool and you’d end up being the one to clean it.

It wasn’t easy being trapped indoors. Venturing out wasn’t much fun when you had to shield yourself from the hard pelts of ice cold rain with an umbrella that the wind tried to take from you every second that it could. You were seemingly trapped inside, with nothing to do but roam the hallways and read your books. You had plenty to read, the shelves on your wall were stacked high with novels, but there was only so much your eyes could take, straining in order to absorb the information. And your brain was giving up on you. It needed a break which you refused to give. Time would pass by far too slowly without the fictional world you carried in your hands.

On occasion though, you did manage to set the hardcovers down and distract yourself with the members of the household. Your mother was rather entertaining to watch as she twisted and twirled around in the vacant room at the end of the hall. Her passion for dancing and for art seemed to collide in that room. She’d lay out a large piece of paper, coat her barefeet in whatever color of paint and then dance along the sheet, staining it with the permanent ink that always seemed to be a messy clutter at first until she neared the end of the drawing and it resembled whatever her goal had been. You’d watched her paint a sea, a vase, and an elephant. It was breathtaking to witness. Such creativity. You wondered why you hadn’t seemed to get any.

When she wasn’t in the mood to dance and her wrists were too bothersome for her to draw, you’d settle down in the den by the fireplace and watch your father as he worked with the other men. Eugene and Randal hadn’t been over much. You didn’t think they were much help. They seemed to be more of the ‘follow’ type, rather than leaders. Tom on the other hand, he was outspoken, much more verbal than you’d expected him to be. You found it difficult to focus on your reading when he spoke. His voice was very pleasing to listen to, so easy to get lost in despite the fact that you had no interest in the things he was talking about. Their little science experiment meant nothing to you, but you found yourself tuning in just so you could hear the way he spoke. Your lashes fluttered, lifting to the corner where Tom was hunched over on his knees on the wood floor. He was tending to the underside of their creation, working thoroughly on fixing the thing. He was struggling, evidently. The grunts and growls that left his lips made you press your legs together to try and ignore the attraction that simmered in your stomach. What you felt and why you felt it, left you clueless, but there you sat on the sofa, wondering what those sounds would sound like if they left his lips for a very different reason. Was he breathier when buried in a woman? Was he loud, talkative, frantic? Your eyes squinted, latched on to him obviously. You were zoned out, ogling him as you bit your bottom lip.

Your father had left the room in order to fetch the wrench that always seemed to be misplaced and in his absence, Tom called you out on your indiscreet gaze.

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you that it isn’t polite to stare?” His voice was hot and heavy, dripping with his exhaustion from his attempt at trying to loosen — or tighten — whatever he’d been trying to. You straightened on the sofa before tearing your gaze away and looking instead back to your book. Leave it to your novel to be right in the middle of an arousing scene.

‘The scruff of his beard grazed the sensitive skin of her belly as he made his way south to taste her. His mouth watered, desperate to flick along the length of her and draw the ecstasy drenched sounds from her already tight throat. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to..’

You swallowed thickly before slamming the book shut and lifting your gaze to the scruffy man in front of you. Inspecting him momentarily, you pushed yourself up from the sofa with a quiet sigh. “Believe me, I wasn’t staring at you. I was zoned out.” You stepped over the tools on the floor, tongue tracing your lips as you moved toward his kneeling form. “Why would I be staring at you anyway? You’re just an old man.” Your book hit his shoulder in a playful manner before you stepped over his calves and made your way toward the exit. He peered over his shoulder, watching the way your dress bounced against the back of your thighs. His head shook in the slightest before he looked to the floor. The wrench was by his knee.

“Edgar!” He called out. “The wrench is in here, you blind bastard!” The smile on his lips was evident in his words. Edgar made his way back into the room, eyes scanning the floor before he frowned.

“Tom, that’s the broken one!” He frowned before folding his arms. They couldn’t move forward with the work without the damn thing. “Let me look in the shed.”

Your ears burned, straining to hear every word passed between your father and your roommate. The stairs creaked beneath you as you finished your climb, hallway nowhere near as noisy as you entered the guest room and quietly shut the door. You dropped the book on the chair by the window before dropping down on the bed on your stomach. Your breaths were deep and your thoughts were all about the man downstairs. Closing your eyes, you pondered what it would feel like to make love to an older man. Someone so experienced. So mature. So handsome. You were biting your lip before you even knew it, stomach flipping at the thought of him climbing the stairs so he could assist you with the arousal you could feel building in the pit of your stomach.

When had this stupid attraction for him even began? The moment you’d met the bastard.

Your legs adjusted on the bed, spreading in the slightest. Your fingers twitched, tempted to slide between your thighs and pleasure yourself so you could cease the thoughts about Tom, but the longer you contemplated just relieving yourself, the closer you hand slid to your body. You lifted your hips, forearm slinking beneath your stomach and the bed so you could get your hand between your legs. Your toes curled, before extending, pushing into the bed firmly as you let out a breathy whimper.

You could envision his hot lips as they slid along your throat and down to your breasts to taste and kiss every inch of your flesh. You let out a shaky exhale as your fingers slid into your underwear. You almost cringed at how soaked you were, but it was impossible to think about anything other than the intern downstairs. Without wasting any time at all, you pressed two fingers against your entrance and moaned out pleadingly at the sensation. Dipping your hips toward your hand, you clenched your eyes shut and let his name roll off of your tongue.

It was beyond inappropriate.

You ground your hips against the bed, creating an amazing amount of friction as your fingers began to pump inside you. A shaky moan of approval escaped your opened mouth before you turned your head and bit your pillow. Tom, Tom, Tom, Tom, Tom, your brain reminded you. His large hands, his full lips, his tuggable hair and beautiful body. He’d accidentally left the door open two nights ago and you’d caught a glimpse of him changing. Head to toe, he was stood bare for your roaming eyes to see, but when he’d realized the door was open, you’d pretended to be asleep and he’d figured he’d gotten away with his little slip up. Your fingers moved harder inside you, teeth clenching down on the pillow roughly. If you tried hard enough, you could convince yourself your fingers were actually his cock.

You were lusting after a man twice your age! He was 24 years older! This was so wrong..

A louder moan, an unstoppable one, left your lips before you hissed out in disbelief. Daniel had never made you feel this good.

So then why did it feel so unexplainable? Why did you yearn for him? Ache for him? Why did he have this much control over you!

Because he was forbidden.

A man his age would never go after a girl your age. So it was innocent enough, wasn’t it? You just had a little crush.. a little crush that would fade, you were sure of it.. but oh god, you hoped it would fade soon because you didn’t think you could take much more of it. Dinner was impossible for he was always making eye contact with you, smirking at you when his foot bumped yours. You were sure you were imagining it, thinking too much into it. He was just being nice. You groaned out, hips bucking just a little harder toward your hand. Or maybe he did want you. Maybe he wanted you just as badly—

The creaky door opened without any warning at all. Knocking, apparently, didn’t matter to the man you wanted so badly to have your way with. You let out a sharp cry, from your fingers or from the intrusion you didn’t know, but you withdrew your hand from your panties and hurriedly sat up on the bed. Kneeling on the mattress with your dress pooled around your hips, you looked toward the door. Your mouth was dry and your body was hot. You’d been so close to orgasming, you felt angry. But your anger was mixed furiously with embarrassment for the man you’d just been fingering yourself because of was now stood in your doorway with his mouth wide open and his eyes gliding from your face to your glistening fingers.

“I..” You whispered. “Do you not knock?!” You stuttered out after racking your brain for something to say.

Tom bit his cheek. What was one meant to say when walking in on a girl touching herself? You hadn’t been shy when he’d caught you banging your boyfriend, but now you were a picture. You looked like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar instead of her underwear. He tightened his grip on the doorknob.

“Do you not consider where to pleasure yourself?” He growled back. “The pool was public..”

“The bedroom isn’t!” You hissed before standing up on the bed. You dried your fingers on your dress before leaping off the bed and stomping toward him. “You should’ve knocked- you.. What’s the matter with you!” Your hands pressed against his chest, pushing at him feverishly to get him out of the room.

He growled out softly before lifting his hands to your wrists to cease your guilty assault. He knew you just felt shy about what he’d seen and you were trying to let your anger cover it.

“Oi,” He pressed you backward, further into the room so he could step inside and kick the door shut. You swallowed nervously. “Your mother sent me up here.. right, I need to go into town, I need a wrench for your dad, but I don’t know where the shop’s at so she told me to come get you.. said you were probably listening to some music and to just come in.” He rubbed his teeth together. He’d seen you five seconds ago and he hadn’t imagined you’d be doing this.

“You’re still meant to knock! This is a private space!” Your breaths were so heavy. You sounded like you’d ran a mile.

“I know.” He hissed.

“Clearly not! You’ve just barged in and caught me doing something my parents would’ve never caught me doing!” They knew how to knock.

“Don’t get all worked up.” He sighed heavily. “It’s not like you’re the only person on earth with the temptation.” He was trying to make you feel better. “I’m sorry I came in unannounced.” His voice was softer.

You curled your hands against his shirt, gripping on to him securely before all at once you slumped, body falling against his momentarily. “You’ve got the worst timing in the world.” You murmured quietly before slowly prying yourself out of his grip. You didn’t give him enough time to return the small embrace — you didn’t want to be faced with rejection if he didn’t return the touch.

He didn’t know what else to say. How would your dad react if he were to descend the stairs and tell the man, ‘Well, so far I’ve seen your daughter screw her boyfriend in the pool and finger herself entirely too desperately’, something told him Daniel wasn’t as good of a lover as you needed. But it wasn’t his place to say or do anything. He bit his cheek before slowly folding his arms across his chest. He was still waiting for an answer from you.

You brushed your hair out of your eyes before moving over to the bed. “Yeah.. I’ll go.” You muttered almost silently. Snatching your novel off of the chair when you passed, you shoved it beneath your pillow before slipping on a pair of sandals and then looking toward him. The same silent question hung in your gaze, only this time he knew what you were asking.

“Your secret is safe with me.” He let out a quiet sigh before stepping out of the room. He waited for you to join him before he began to climb downstairs.

Your mother was in the den now, speaking to your father about dinner and his science project. The pair were oblivious to the two of you crossing through the room, so neither of you said anything, you just made your way out and into the dull, gray city.

“So,” Tom spoke the second that the two of you had left the little villa. You grasped your bike when the two of you reached the end of the road. It was yellow and white, with a brown seat to settle down on. You looked toward the older man, fingers falling to your dress to smooth it down as you waited for him to speak further. “Are you sex deprived?” He almost chortled before glancing in your direction. “I mean.. it’s a bit odd that I seem to have impeccable timing. Either you want sex every hour of the day.. or I’m just absolutely terrific at catching you in the act.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Ha ha, very funny.” You mocked him. “It was two times.”

He cut you off. “That I caught you. Who knows how many other times I didn’t.” He lifted a cigarette from his pocket before placing the thing between his lips. He didn’t light it, but he carried it like he was going to.

“Well I suppose you have ‘impeccable timing’ because I rarely ever do what.. you walked in on.”

“Mh..” He wanted to point out that there was no need to be shy. Masterbating was normal, it was rather taboo to talk about, but it was normal. He didn’t think you should be shying away, but he also didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He let out a hoarse grunt before looking toward you when you stilled.

“Biking is going to be much quicker. Our legs will give out if we walk.” You moved the bike closer to him. “You steer, I can stand on the pegs.” You waited for him to grasp the opposite side of the handlebars and then climb on to the bike. Your hands moved to his strong shoulders, clutching on to them as you stepped up and on to the bolts attached to the back tire. Holding him securely, your fingers tapped his shoulders to signal that he could go — and once they had, he set off.

The air was cool, not enough for a jacket, but enough to warn that another storm might blow through. He took his time peddling though for he didn’t really care if it rained or not, a little rain wouldnt hurt the two of you.

“So why did my mom suggest you go. Why not my dad?” You inquired, hunched over so your words hit his ear and the wind didn’t carry them away.

“The thing we are working on..” He started. “It requires someone to always be monitoring it unless it’s powered off.. and we can’t power it off until we fix the bolts underneath.” He looked over his shoulder toward you. “And we need the wrench to fix the bolts and your dad knows more about how to steady it so..” He let out a quiet huff. “It’s a bit boring to explain to someone who doesn’t really care, but..”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t truly curious.” You told him under your breath before pointing toward the alley ahead. “Cut through there.” He did so without question. The bike turned smoothly, carrying the pair of you all the way to the end of the rocky path and to the shop that resided at the end of the street.

Tom climbed off the bike after you hopped off the pegs. He used the chains in the corner to make it appear as if the bike were tied down. He really doubted that anyone would steal it, but if they tried, at least it would appear to be a difficult task. You followed the man into the shop, small hand brushing his in the slightest when you passed. An apologetic smile was sent his way, but he didn’t give you any sign that an apology was needed, he merely brushed it off before moving around the interior in search of a wrench.

The isles were jammed pack with assortments of necessary items. Tools, food, jewelry, clothing.. if it was something that could be bought, it was here. You trailed alongside the man as he hunted for a certain type of tool. Which one you didn’t know, you didn’t really care either, but you wanted to at least look like you were helping. Your fingers moved along the tablecloths, caressing the different fabrics before you looked toward the man as he lifted a box.

“Got it.” He shook the enclosed tool. Removing the cigarette from his lips, he stuck it in his shirt pocket — he’d light it later. He typically just took it out to make his brain think he needed it.. and then he’d deprive himself. It actually helped in a weird way, to kill the bad habit.

“Good.” You looked toward the cigarette before instead moving your gaze to the corner window, eyes squinting. It looked even darker than it had been.

“Let’s go.” His hand met your lower back, a delicate touch to guide you along. You followed willingly, practically skipping at his side as you approached the front counter.

The man behind the cash register was older. He had wrinkled skin and wise looking eyes. His white hair was sprinkled with grey, lengthy enough to put in a ponytail. The man scanned the item before stating how much it would be and when you tipped your head toward Tom, he drew out some money and handed it to the elderly. You took the bag of your new belongings before moving to the door and back outside. It was colder. Darker. Tom looked in your direction before unchaining the bike and climbing on. His gaze told you, before he had to verbally, that it was time to go, so you climbed on to the pegs and let him do the driving as you held the bag.

The bike was bumpier on the road back. It jiggled along the path, but you didn’t say anything. You were sure one of the tires still needed to be aired up, but you hadn’t got around to doing so. Tom looked over his shoulder now and then to check on you and each time he did, you always pushed his cheek so his focus was back on the sidewalk. People were careless nowadays, they’d walk out in front of a bike stupidly and there’s no telling who’d end up getting hurt. You laid your chin on the top of Tom’s head and shut your eyes. He kept a secure grip on the handlebars, driving cautiously but quickly so the two of you could in fact beat the approaching rainfall. It wasn’t a long bike ride back, but lack of light and bumps in the path made it take a little longer.

When you arrived, Tom made sure to put the bike back where he’d found it before he walked alongside you back to the entrance of the villa. He found that the longer the silence lingered between the two of you, the more his mind wandered and the more he thought about the way you desperately rocked yourself against your hand. He didn’t think it was you that he was attracted to, just the actions.

“So.. from now on.. you’re going to knock before you enter my room?” You pushed at him playfully with your arm before tipping your head back and gazing up at his handsome features. He glanced down at you, crinkle forming between his brows as he nodded.

“May just steer clear of that area for a while.” He teased before coming to a stop. He reached for the bag wrapped around your wrist and when he did, you stepped closer to him.

“It was your fault, you know. You’re the exact same as the man in my book.. it’s so hard to read such an enticing paragraph in a book only to look up and see such a distinct description sitting directly in front of you.. staring at you.”

Tom furrowed his brows. “You’re blaming me for your lack of self control?”

“No. I’m blaming you for the reason of my horniness.” Oh, what a thing to confess. “I didn’t really want to be riding my fingers..” He wanted to plug his ears. How could you say such filthy things to him? To Daniel, okay, go crazy. He didn’t care if you had a filthy mouth, but why did you have to say those things to him? He could’ve gone the rest of his life without knowing you wanted to be on top of him.

“Alright..” He tried to stop the conversation. His hands moved to your cheeks, trying his best to ensure you understood that he saw you as a child, not a playmate. “Let’s not talk about this anymore, mh?” He squeezed your cheeks in a playful manner before moving to step around you. Your hand lifted to his chest, halting him from going any further though.

“Why? Is it making you uncomfortable?” There were two meanings of the word. Uncomfortable as in strained, tense, and ready to fuck the next thing that moved or uncomfortable as in he didn’t want to be talking about this because it was gross.

“Yes.” He whispered. He supposed both definitions fit. He made movement to step around you again, but you slowly leaned up on your toes. He exhaled shakily, a quiver in his breaths. He could feel your breaths mingling with his own and maybe he would’ve let you kiss him if your father wasn’t his teacher. “Y/n.” He stopped you before your mouths could touch. “You’re a child.” He reminded you. “In comparison to me..” he added. “I don’t.. see you that way.” He did. Any other girl as beautiful as you.. and as young.. he’d let the situation play out. It wasn’t illegal to like or lust after anyone younger, but he couldn’t allow himself to get involved with his boss’s daughter. Now that, that could cause problems. “I’m sorry..” He tried to soothe the building embarrassment he knew you felt but you were quick to bolt. Tearing yourself away from him without so much as a word.. He sighed heavily before lifting his palm to his face so he could rub his skin down in aggravation.

Why did this have to happen to him?

The wooden door slammed shut loudly behind you. You didn’t pause to talk to anyone before clambering up the stairs and into the guest room so you could swallow down the shame that flooded your stomach.

Tom was still outside, wringing the bag in his hands repeatedly as he shut his eyes. It was wrong. His inner voice told him. You were young. You were sweet. He wouldn’t ever want to hurt you — nor did he want to lose this internship. He let out a heavy sigh before making his way inside, much quieter than you’d been. He made his way into the kitchen, placing the wrench down on the counter before he peeked into the den. Edgar and Rose were gone and in their place was a note on the polished table. He moved into the room to retrieve it, pointer finger and thumb closing around it curiously, blue eyes roaming the letters.

‘Daniel’s parents came by. Need us for an emergency. Nothing to worry about, back in a few hours. Thank you for getting the wrench! Dinner is on the stove. Please put the pot in the fridge when you’re done, we won’t be home until you’ve gone to bed’. He didn’t know if the note was for him or for you, but he set it back in its place on the table before making his way back to the kitchen so he could make himself a bowl of food. He was sure you wanted to be left alone, but now was probably the best time to talk to you. The pair of you were still alone. He set two bowls on the counter and poured an even amount of soup into both of them. Tucking the crockpot away in the refrigerator as directed, he then lifted the bowls and climbed the stairs to your room.

You were slumped on the bed, dress rolled up far too high on your thigh. Your head was propped up on your fluffed pillow, fingers lazily tracing the loose strings that stuck out of your comforter. Tom came to a halt outside your door before knocking on the door with the toe of his boot. You didn’t expect him.

“Come in.” You called out, voice sounding soft and almost drained. He did so with a bit of difficulty. His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“Your parents had to run out..” He squirmed in the doorway. “Said there was some dinner for us and they won’t be back for a bit so..” He waited for you to look at him but you never did. “I made you a bowl.” That got your attention. Your head craned around, studious eyes moving from him to the glass dish. He set it on your dresser before placing his down as well. A loud sigh left his lips. “Can I sit?”

You discreetly bent your legs further before visibly shuffling so that you could roll further over on the bed. Creating a place for him to sit by your thighs, you crossed your ankles and stared at the wall, waiting for the bounce of the bed which told you he was sitting down. When the bed creaked and his added weight caused the mattress to sink, you fisted your hand in the duvet and wiggled in the slightest. Tom furrowed his brows as he stared at you. His warm palm skimmed your thigh as he reached for the bottom of your dress and pulled it down so he couldn’t see too much of your skin. “Look,” He let his hand linger before he moved it down to your knee. His touch was delicate, pleading for you to look at him. You eventually did. “Babe, you’re seventeen.” He tipped his head to the side. “You’re.. curious. That’s all. I promise you, I’m not what you want. Lust after me all you please, but I swear, you won’t find what you’re looking for.” His hand was gentle as it traced your knee, but when he finished speaking, he drew his hand back.

You sat up in the slightest then, leaning on your elbows as you watched him intently. “You don’t get it.” You mumbled out. “Some girls are into older guys. And it does work out.”

“And have you ever been with an older guy?” He inquired, unsurprised when you shook your head in response. “I told you. It’s curiosity.” He placed his hand beside your hip before leaning toward you. “I like this internship. If I didn’t work for your dad, maybe I’d give in to this little game of yours and see where it goes, but I really care about this building career of mine.. I can’t just throw it away. You’re such a beautiful girl, Y/n.. too beautiful to waste time wanting someone as old as I am.” His touch was tender when he let his thumb graze your leg. Temptation was dragging him in despite each word he said. You swore he was trying to convince himself.

“I just want to kiss you.” You whispered quietly. “I want to know what it feels like.”

He almost smiled. “My lips are no different than Daniel’s.” He thought that if he reminded you of your boyfriend, you’d shy away. You sat up though, fully.

“Prove it.” Your breaths were so warm as they tickled his mouth. He let out a raspy grunt before distancing in the slightest. He knew if he kissed you, he wouldn’t stop. Attraction. It was there, but he wanted to ignore it. You were just making it so hard for him.

“I can’t.”

“You can.” You bit back. “I want you to.. please.” He shut his eyes. Why couldn’t Edgar have had a shy little girl? A quiet one. One who didn’t look at him like she wanted to be in his lap. He didn’t know what to say. The both of you knew that he wanted to kiss you, but at the same time, you both knew it would just spur the already building feelings and double them. “I promise.. it only has to be this once.. I just want to know what you taste like.” You neared him. Your hand was firm on the blanket as you began to crawl toward his seated form. “what your mouth feels like..” His eyes fluttered. Oh god. You lifted your hand to his thigh, caressing it as you leaned in to close the final gap. Your mouth was centimeters from his, lingering there as your hand slid all the way up to the top of his thigh. “Your tongue.” He admired your bravery.

You opened your mouth, allowing the tip of your tongue to teasingly flick over his upper lip. He wondered if you’d done this before, seduced older men because you were so fucking good at it. But he remembered then that you’d said you hadn’t. His mouth opened, a small part to say something. “Only once...” and you took advantage of it. Lifting your hands to his cheeks, you slid into his lap before he could complain and leaned in to lick him again.

Your tongue brushed over his bottom lip and then top lip, hips sinking into his own firmly before you tilted your head and closed the space completely. Tom set his hand on your lower back in order to hold you against him and prevent you from toppling backward. Your mouth was warm against his, as curious as you’d said it was. You kissed him slowly, playfully, testing to see what he liked as your lips moved in a very slow dance with his.

His breathing was loud, husky, slow and drawn out. He let out a soft hum at the taste of your lips, sweet against his. You opened your mouth again, tongue gliding over his lips but not to urge his tongue to come out and play, it was just to tease him. He growled out at your need to cease the kiss to continue with your playful tendencies. It felt good though, so he didn’t stop you.

You let out a breathy whimper into his mouth before slowly lifting your hands to his hair. “Touch me.” You pleaded, refusing to break the slow kiss.

He let out a muffled groan before laying his other hand on your hip. “I said I’d kiss you.” He spoke against your mouth. “Nothing more..” His words made your stomach twist at the challenge.

“Yes sir.” You let out a heavy breath of amusement. You both knew that stopping at ‘just kissing’ would be impossible. The only way he’d be leaving this room was if your parents came home and that wasn’t for a few hours. “Well, we’d better stop there then.” You murmured before slowly lifting yourself out of his lap. Collapsing against the pillows; you folded your arms beneath your head and bent your knees as you watched him.

Tom shook his head slowly at your antics before standing. He felt eager and eager wasn’t good. So he distanced momentarily. “What kind of novel are you reading that’s given you so much.. courage?” He moved toward the bookshelf. His fingers traced the spines, eyes scanning the titles before he looked over his shoulder when you spoke.

“The man’s got all the bravery in the books I read. I just figured I’d try it out and see if it worked.” He watched you as you began to fiddle with the necklace you wore. He bit his cheek. “Don’t you wanna kiss me some more?”

Tom shut his eyes for a moment before exhaling noisily. He walked back over to the bed before sitting back down by your hip. His hand lifted to your leg, this time brushing along the length of it.

“Your parents would kill me if they found out about this.” He told you quietly. “And then I’d have to leave.” His thumb brushed along your inner thigh, sliding higher and higher until it reached the bottom of your dress. He pinched it. “Do you want me to go?”

Your cheeks lifted with your smile, small arm extending so your hand could fist in the front of his shirt. “Who would I play with then?” You opened your legs and let his thumb venture further. Tugging on his shirt pleadingly, you made a perfect space for him to rest between your legs. “I read a story earlier.” You told him as he lifted himself up and on to his knees.

“What about?” He asked as he slid up the length of the bed until he covered you completely.

“About a man with a beard.” Your fingers traced his facial hair. “He ate a girl out.” You shrugged in the slightest before arching off the bed so your mouth could skim his own. “Don’t you think that’d hurt her? Facial hair is so.. spikey.” You rubbed your lips against his furry face to prove your point before you tipped your head and kissed him again. He let out a soft hum before lowering himself down so that his chest brushed against your own.

“Nobody’s complained before.” He whispered against your lips before lifting himself up so that he could peer down at your form. His hand stilled between your legs, taking his time before it moved any higher. “I’m not in any rush.” He informed you. “We’ve got time, beautiful.”

“You could change your mind about me tomorrow.” You frowned. “Then what’ll I do?”

“Finger yourself like you did earlier.” He teased before moving his mouth to your ear. His hands slid to your thighs, lifting each one so they were forced to wrap around his waist. “Don’t worry..” he murmured. “My mind isn’t going to change.” He didn’t know what he wanted. This was fueled by mostly curiosity. But he liked the way your body felt, pinned beneath his, and he loved the way your mouth moved so deeply against and in time with his own.

No, he didn’t think, not even for a second, that he’d change his mind about you. Even if it meant his internship was on the line. He was afraid you were quickly becoming his little addiction — you pulled his mouth back to your own — and there was no stopping it now.

———————————————————————

Part 1

End Part 2 of 5

Tagged: @peakblogbecauseimweak @bsotstory @mollybegger-blog @morphoportis @ghost-of-student-sufferings @drippydownes2002 @ellar21 @sovereigngoth @willowick13 @pansexualginger @marvelgirl7 @heyitscam99 @wow-he-cute @haroldpain @justrepostandlove @emerald-bijou @multireality @innerpaperexpertcloud @goodiesintheclosetlove @giftofdreams @ihclipse @inkedfandom @thatsamegirl @doct0rstrange @jakechillenhaal @shanty-lol @centerhabit @clevertheoristpainter @jamierdr @favouritereadings @badmaax @thephuonganh @wewillfindourwaythere @uhhhemilyrose @scarrasco1325 @matoki-darkpanda @bignastyfan-nz @hot-and-spiceyyy @azayamari @shane-isa-shame @chimthighz @baliadelcuore @lonewolf471 @crldrr @keeleyella @overitall2018 @willowtree42095 @hufflepuff25 @97freaknik @sparklyreaderx @meer0rauschen @evilspretty-dead @xxxxxeroxxxxx @wheresthewater @anrm1

#tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy #call me by your name inspired fic

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wlwbeverly · 4 years

Text

the group chat made me do this pt 2

“Tell me about your daughter.”

Your head snaps up as you turn to find the sound of the voice, softening when you see Stan in the doorway.

“Did you miss the 5 minutes I spent talking about her at dinner?” You ask him. “She’s amazing. Can’t really say much more than that.”

Muttering something, Stan averts his eyes to the ground, looking now more than ever like the boy fourteen year old you had fallen head over heels for.

“I’m sorry?” You ask him, leaning on your father’s old work bench.

“Y/n,” Stan sighs, venturing further into the room and closing the door behind him. “I know she’s my kid.”

You shrug. “So what if she is?”

“So what if she is? Y/n, I have a twenty year old daughter I had no clue existed.” Stan rants. “I’ve been trying with Patty for almost 2 years now, nothing, and this entire time i’ve had a kid out there.” He sits on an old stool, the worn-down wood creaking slightly. “I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have put all that on you. I shouldn’t had forgotten the mother of my fucking child.”

You move towards him, hesitantly reaching out a hand to tilt his chin upwards, making him look you in the eye.

“Let me tell you a story.” You pulled out an equally creaky stool from under the bench, sitting down across from Stan.

“I knew something was up on November 5, 1995.” You begin. “I knew the last time I had sex was right before labor day, back at home, and I realized that I hadn’t gotten my period throughout the month of October. I told my roommate, and she took me to pick up the test.”

Stan looked at you intently, urging you to continue.

“She picked up three different brands. I took all of them.” You tell him, remembering the sheer terror an eighteen-year-old you had felt. “I don’t think i’ve ever cried as hard as I did when she told me they were all positive.”

Stan felt his heart grow heavy at the idea of you, sobbing on a bathroom floor, pregnant at eighteen and completely and utterly alone.

“I called my parents that same night. They were disappointed, but had faith in me. Four months of waitressing at 2 equally shitty diners later, I had made enough for a deposit on an apartment.” You told him. “It was a mess.” You laughed,” the water only worked half the time, someone was always screaming at their boyfriend outside the window. But, my baby needed a home.”

“I’m sorry you were alone.” Stan’s voice shook. “I’m so, so sorry-“

“I wasn’t alone, though.” You tell him honestly, taking his hand into yours. “I had Alice. I didn’t know at the time, but she truly was there for me, even though she was still-well, in me.” You told Stan. “Every time I felt like throwing in the towel, I would just rant to her.” Stan raised his eyebrows.

“I would walk the floor of my apartment, talking into the air, holding on to my bump.” You explained. “She was an excellent listener. Just like her old man.”

Stan smiled softly.

“And yeah, parts of it fucking sucked.” You admitted, putting your hands up. “I’m not gonna act like raising a daughter on my own in between going to NYU and working 2 jobs was all sunshine and rainbows, because some nights i’d cry myself to sleep, not being able to think about anything other than how my baby girl deserved so much better.” You went on. “We were dirt poor. I worked long hours. She was a latchkey kid. She has every reason in the book to detest me.”

Stan looked to you, seeing the love you felt for your little girl himself.

“Does she?” Stan asks.

“No.” You tell him, smiling at the thought of her. “I never wanted to be one of those moms who calls her daughter her best friend.” You go on. “But, she really is. She’s great, Stan.” You gush. “She’s headstrong, and intelligent, and calls me out on my shit when no one else will. She’s the best woman I know. She’s the most extraordinary thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Stan smiles as he cries, you looking to him, reaching out and wiping his tears away with your thumb.

“So don’t you ever, ever feel like you burdened me, because you didn’t.” You tell him, looking directly into his eyes. “You gave me a gift, Stan.”

Stan nods, blinking away tears rapidly, using his own hand to wipe them away.

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments, and you turn to get up, when your phone emits a familiar ringtone.

You pull your phone out of your back pocket, smiling as you see the FaceTime request.

“I can go-“ Stan offers, you waving him off.

“You can just listen, if you want.” You tell him.

“Can I?”

You nod, answering the call, Alice’s face filling your screen. “Hi, baby girl. What’s up?”

“Uh, what’s up with you, miss thing?” Alice teases you, raising an eyebrow as if interrogating you, you trying (and failing) to hold back a laugh.

“I’m in grandpa’s workroom.” You tell her, Stan sneaking glances from his seat.

“Can you tell them to get their asses-“

“Alice Michelle!” You warn, Stan smiling at your tone.

“Sorry, sorry! Butts, up to visit me here? I miss them.” She pouts, adjusting her glasses and tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

“Oh, and not me?” You tease her.

“You live literally 20 minutes from my dorm!” Alice protests. “But I do miss you, mama. That’s why I called.”

Stan feels something at the way the word leaves Alice’s mouth; Mama. He wonders how many times she’s said it, how many times she’s called it out, looking for you.

He can’t believe he missed this.

You catch his forlorn expression, an idea popping into your head.

(You wanna talk to her? )You mouth, pointing at the phone.

Before Stan can think of an answer, Alice interjects from her end of the line.

“Who are you talking to?” Alice asks.

Stan nods to you, and you turn your attention back to your phone.

“One of the old friends I came down to visit!” You tell her. “He wants to say hi.”

“Awww, have you been telling them about how awesome your kid is?” Alice teases you.

“You know it, baby girl.” You tell her, Stan smiling at the nickname. “I’m gonna put you on, okay?”

“He better not be weird!” Alice calls out.

Stan takes a deep breath, willing himself t not drop the phone as he takes it from you, finally seeing his daughter for the first time.

“Hey! I’m Alice!” Alice waves, Stan awkwardly waving back.

“I’m Stan. Your mom and I go way back.” Stan tells her, you swatting his arm lightly.

“Ooohhh, you gonna tell me how much of a troublemaker she was?”

Stan laughs, not being able to fight back the genuine smile when he realizes that she inherited your ability to calm anyone down; to make everything feel like it was going to be okay.

It’s a strange sort of family reunion, but it’s perfect.

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icarus-imagines · 5 years

Text

Prince!Japan X Yokai!Reader

May I request a Prince!Japan x Yokai!Reader? (P.s. I saw this in your book)

Word Count: 3,666

Category: Hetalia

Reader is classified as a kitsune.

I imagined reader to be male because gay Japan is best Japan, but it will still probably work if you are female.

Reader may also be a bit overprotective and dominant~

-Mod Icarus ଘ(੭ºัᴗºั)━☆ﾟ

~Promise Me~

Kidnap...

Could you do such a thing?

It was no later than midnight and you couldn't help, but feel the sour edge of tension and restlessness at such a late hour meant for sleeping. But it couldn't be helped for your leader, of the feared Yokai Clan known as ****, had entrusted you with a task of utmost importance like no other. He could have given it to his dearly trusted second in command. His own flesh and blood son. But no.

He gave it to you.

You smirked, probably because of your powerful origins. It was known to all even though you weren't the second in command, no less, the leader. You were still blessed with power unlike any other. Thanks to this you, for the most part, have had a good life. It was hard being who you are. Disguising yourself day in and day out to be one of those pathetic beings called humans.

You inwardly cringed just thinking about those horrible beasts. The devastation when they raged war on each other. Disrupting the peace of all the villages over trivial matters that could dissipate quickly if they only let their small minds actually think for once in their puny lifespan instead of making rash decisions for what they called the greater good.

Unlike humans Yokai, were beautiful and gifted with magic and all areas alike by the very gods themselves. The only reason they feared you was because you were blessed.

Every single day you would have to run away and hide in fear of being captured and taken up to the palace. They were only rumors, but you had heard the Yokai became servants and some even sex slaves.

You snapped out of your own thoughts getting back to the urgent task at hand. You jumped from the castle rooftop, where you had earlier been scoping out the guards routine walking schedule and found out you could have half of an hour to even a full hour of no interruption, silently to the floor below just as the guards rounded the corner.

You only would have half an hour to kidnap the prince, it was enough time, but you should always plan on something going wrong. You slid the door open silently and slipped in, careful of your tail and traditional garments as you closed it back up to avoid suspicion and invasion of privacy. Your (E/c) eyes widened seeing the prince sitting up straight, awake, and staring out at his small private garden. You were hoping he would have been sleeping.

Tiptoeing you way behind him, wary of the floorboards, though you knew they were new and not old and creaky, you stopped and froze statue still as the prince turned around.

You almost gasped at the prince's appearance. You had anticipated in him being beautiful, but to put it bluntly, he was gorgeous.

His garments were obviously expensive and created from the finest materials Japan could offer. Much more flattering and formal than your own (F/c) garments. The colors were a mix of bright and dark. Overall black with intricate details in a shimmering white and red, for the flag of his country.

His hair was long, a good guess being four to five feet long, maybe even more. It looked as if it was itself made of the finest silk, shiny and soft looking with the help of the full moon rising behind him. His pitch black hair that almost molded with the darkness of the room almost made you feel self-conscious of your own (H/c) hair in a normal (H/s).

And oh. His face! His skin was pale, a sign of royalty, and perfectly flawless. Rid of any possible blemish and any other imperfection. His eyes were a rich brown almost hidden away by his precisely cut bangs.

This man was most definitely a young god.

You watched in horror as the prince's eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening to call out for help, but before he could do so you clamped your left hand over his mouth, your right holding his left forearm, silencing so he couldn't make any noise to alarm the guards of your unwanted presence.

He squirmed in your tight grip, his right hand coming to your wrist to try and pull your arm away, but you were too strong for the pampered human. You let out a small 'ssshh', as you fixed your sharp gaze on him. It must have unsettled him for he eventually calmed down and stopped moving, but you knew he was undeniably scared for his life. Evident in the way he breathed heavily through his nose, chest heaving slightly, and his body was shaking.

Surprisingly, fear looked good on the prince.

You tilted your head, a look of contemplation printed on it, wondering what you would do. Then it came to you. You hadn't conversed with a human for centuries.

Playtime.

"I'll let you go," a look of relief washed over the prince at your declaration, "if. And just if. You don't alarm the guards I am here."

The prince nodded his head quickly at your generous offer. You smirked, happy he accepted, letting go of his mouth, careful of you ever so sharp two inch long nails that could slice flesh open. You didn't want to hurt him, even though humans disgusted you. But this one seemed different.

Your right hand was kept on his forearm to keep him and to stop him from running away, even though that would be impossible. Your knees were tucked underneath you and he was the same, though his garment was like a dress and covered everything and the floor beneath him to your own knees.

You examined him further, staring deep into his eyes with the rich brown hue with your own color of (E/c). He seemed to be less scared than earlier, but fear was still shown in his eyes, you almost felt guilty. You sneered internally at your own thoughts. Feel guilty for a human? Never!

You stopped thinking as he began to speak. And just as you had imagined his voice was smooth and light like the water that spilled into his garden pond behind him. "Why?"

You were caught off guard, did he just ask you why? You responded curiously, "What do you mean?"

"W-why-" his voice almost cracked at the start but regained his voice a few seconds later. "Why are you doing this? If it's for ransom my father, the emperor, can pay you in plenty of heavy pounds of pure gold. Just, please... Please, don't hurt me..."

You're inhumanly heart clenched painfully at his desperation and fear. It was clear the young prince knew nothing of war. Nothing of the sins the world held. You almost wanted to protect him from those things.

"Ie. It's not for ransom," you responded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I've come to take you to my leader. By my appearance, you should know why."

The prince looked at you in confusion, his eyes roaming to your ears and tail, a (F(ur)/c) color. You could see it click in his mind what you were, but that didn't seem to change his mind about what you were going to do with him.

"I know not what you speak of, but may I ask you a question?"

You tilted your head once again, indicating you were listening as he spoke.

"Why do you onry have one tair?" You blinked in surprise not expecting such a childlike question from a royal blood. (Though you wanted to smile at his cute accent) He seemed to notice your quick pause and spoke again to justify himself. "S-sorry! It's just you seem to onry have one. I thought kitsune usuarry have nine."

You nodded guy understanding just what he was asking about."That's actually a myth. It's only some kitsune really. Some are born with nine and live one immortal life. While others have nine immortal lives. I am simply on my very first life of my nine. I'm only 123 years old you know," you said proudly. Many kitsune didn't live as long as you. While some lived for millenniums.

The prince nodded in awe, he had never met a kitsune. And to know you were 123 years old was something of an extraordinary wonder.

"Can I pet you!?" Yet again you blinked. This human was very childlike, but you found it to be adorable. You sighed on the inside, almost giggling actually, as you nodded, with a small 'Hai'.

The prince's eyes widened in wonder and his hand reached atop your head to pet your sensitive (Fur/c) colored ears. You blushed at the sensation as your tail curling in your lap. You decided to feel his too, I mean he was doing it to you so you had the right to return the action.

Your left hand raised, your right sill securely holding his forearm, and you brushed his bangs away from his eyes. You could feel his hand momentarily stop, his brown eyes gazing at your own color of (E/c). His eyes widened a fraction at your action, he probably didn't expect you to be so affectionate.

You still continued anyway, letting you long fingers glide through as much hair as you could before you had to stop because of its amazing length. It was soft and as silky as you had thought. He must have used many oils and taken plenty of baths to require such a beautiful shine. He was like a woman. I mean, you almost had mistaken him for his sister, the princess. Good thing you were wrong.

You decided to voice your opinion, mumbling lowly, "You're like a woman. Long hair, delicate features, beautiful clothes. Even," you twitched your ears which he still held onto,"soft and small fingers."

He blushed at your statement, he tried to suppress it, but that would be impossible for him.

"Well," he began," I can assure you I am a man. If you're looking for women you should rather consult with my younger sister."

You looked in a bit of shock as he almost grumbled the words out. Is he jealous? You smiled at the thought of the prince being jealous of somebody they just met.

"Don't worry, I came here looking for you, the prince. Didn't I?" You questioned knowing he knew you were right. "But it'd a shame, my leader wanted me to give you to him as a sex slave. It seems like a good offer since you humans have done that to us."

You scowled, but stopped as he spoke confused, "W-what do you mean? I've never seen any of your kind in the palace before. Surely, my father doesn't have yokai sex slaves..."

A small smile crossed your (Plump/Thin/etc) lips at how naive he was. It was inhumanly cute. "You've had a sheltered life. Away from sin, away from the horrors of this disgusting world and all the creatures that inhabit it." Your left hand cupped the prince's soft cheek, running your thumb back and forth in a soothing motion across his smooth skin. "You will learn. And you'll turn into a man. Into an emperor. And all your innocence will evaporate with the rising sun of this country."

You stopped in shock as tears brimmed at the prince's eyes and started to flow over his cheeks, wetting them quickly. His hands had left your ears and had lowered to clasp onto your yukata. You hurried to calm him down, whispering how sorry you were for frightening him. Realising he was defiantly sheltered. More than you had originally thought.

"Do not worry, my prince," you whispered as if you were talking to your own child. "I'll make sure you are safe. No one will dare harm you, as long as we both shall live."

The prince's tears had stopped for a bit, but sniffles like a child as he looks up at you with his big doe-like eyes.

"So...you won't kidnap me and take me to your leader?" he asked.

You chuckled at his question,"Correct. It seems I want you all for myself. You alright with that?"

The prince started to stutter out a reply, a blush coating his cheeks. You hushed him a with a peck on his lips. It shut him up quickly as he touched his left hand, the right still clasped on your yukata and ghosted over his plump lips. Embarrassment, well this kind, and being lovesick looked good on him too.

"Though tell me your name," you almost ordered, "I want to know the name of my mate."

"H-honda, Kiku," he mumbled out. "You have permission to speak of me by my first name, seeing you've already kissed me..."

You nodded, expecting nothing less. "It's an honor," you stated honestly. "But seems I'll have to take my leave. I've been here too long, the guards will be here soon." You stood up the princes, no Kiku's, hand left your yukata, and you took away your hand. "I won't be able to return to my Clan since I've failed my mission. But that's alright, I have you to look forward to every morning."

As you began to walk towards his garden, now you think about it you should have just entered from there since it was not guarded all around and was open to the sky, you turned back to see Kiku, waving a goodbye.

"W-wait!" he shouted. You stopped from crouching to jump and turned back around to see him get a box, surprisingly he was still sitting down after all this time. "Come here, please."

You followed his instructions and crouched in front of him again. He opened up the black and gold encrusted box about as long as half a meter. And 1/3 of a meter high. To reveal, it empty?

"What's the box for?"

Kiku smiled as he pulled all of his hair to be over one shoulder, he brought his hand forward in front of you. You understood and placed your larger hand in his confused. Before you could comprehend what he was up to the next thing you heard almost scared you out of your tail and ears.

Slice!

"Hey! Why did you-" Kiku stopped you as he simply picked up his hair, binding it neatly and setting it in the box, closing the lid.

You were shocked, he had cut his hair. With your hand. Nails, but still your hand. It seemed your nails were the perfect length for it was cleanly cut and now his hair only reached his chin.

Before you could ask why he did such a thing he spoke first.

"You said you won't be able to return to where you were once accepted. I cannot live with the fact you'll be scorned by your former family and friends. So in order to make things right," he said scooting the box closer to your figure, "I wish to give this to your leader. I'm sure he won't decline. I've never cut my hair. And if they don't accept you can always stay here. And if my family doesn't accept you, we'll simply run away. My father can always have more kids," he half-joked.

Your eyes widened, you almost felt like crying. He would do such a thing for you?

You moved forward in a flash, wrapping your arms around Kiku's small body. Your body slightly shook in appreciation.

"Thank you. Thank you, so much" you chocked out. "This means a lot to me. No human has ever been as kind and as generous as you have."

"Promise me you'll come back."

"Of course, anything for you," you promised.

You composed yourself, letting go of him and picked up the box in the crook of your left arm. You cupped your right hand under the back of his head making him look up at you. You placed a soft and chaste kiss once again on his lips, closing both of your eyes, savoring the taste of him before you had to go. You would kiss him, who knew when you would visit him again. You slowly let him go as he opened his again in a bashful manner. You smirked at his expression. You would look forward to this.

Hopefully, you would be able to come back.

You reluctantly let go of our head and retreated to his garden, peering up at the moon as it still continued to climb the sky.

"Before you go, may I know the name of the yokai wishing to win my heart?"

You glanced behind your shoulder at the prince. He looked the same as when you had first met him, even though that was about 45 minutes ago, but he was different now. His hair was cut short, he still looked like women, his cheeks were a permanent pink and his eyes were incredibly lovesick. And his right hand brushed his lips, desperate to feel your lips on his again.

Yet it wasn't just his appearance that was different. He seemed less naive like he had learned a valuable lesson. He now knew of what lay beyond the palace walls. You almost regret telling him such a thing but knew he would learn it eventually. And early would be better than when he had become emperor.

"(F/n). (F/n) Bonoama."

You smiled as he whispered your name to himself. "(F/n), till we meet again."

You nodded, "Till we meet again Kiku ouji-sama."

You laughed at his surprised expression, before jumping away. And with the swoosh of the air, you were gone. Nothing indicating you were there other than the flustered prince left behind.

"(F/n)"

~*~*~*~

It was like a dream. Your leader was shocked when you had given him the quarter pound of hair from the prince. Surprised even more when it was willingly given. You leader had instantly accepted, declaring no war to start between your yokai clan and the royal palace.

You had even been moved to a high position in your clan. But even so, you only wished to meet him again. So with the permission of your leader, you were able to be with the prince. It was a dream come true indeed.

~*~*~*~

~Two Days Later~

"(F/n)! You're back!"

You almost fell over as the body of your new lover crashed into yours. To your surprise, he was standing. And he was quite short. You're a full-blooded kitsune yokai, most of you were tall (Gomenesai!).

You hugged him back, your tail swishing back and forth curling happily. You settled your head on top of his. "Of course, I never break my promises."

"Then promise me."

"Hmm?" You hummed. "Promise what?"

"You'll marry me."

~The End~

Translations:

-Japanese-

Ie: No

Hai: Yes

Gomenesai: I am very sorry

(Not in the story, but it's just so you know~)

Ouji-sama: Prince-sama

(Sama is for people that have a higher status than you and/or is someone you respect)

Fun Facts:

-People in ancient China and I'm sure many other areas of Asia at the time, sought out to have long shiny black hair, for it symbolized you kept good care of your hair. And you were of high status. Japan having long shiny hair signified he kept good care of it, and he was of high status. But it also goes along with how hair is a gift from the gods and should never be cut unless on very special occasions (Moreso in Asian countries)-

-Tanned skin, blemishes, sunburn, and/or freckles were reserved for lower ranking members of society who toiled on the land while the upper classes relaxed indoors. This is why you were in awe of his flawless complexion and pale skin. (Though this beauty was more sought after during the Elizabethan times, in Britain/England and even China, I felt it would be nice to correlate with this story)-

#x reader #drabble #imagine #oneshot #aph japan #hetalia #request #prince japan #yokai reader #prince japan x yokai reader #nihon #fun facts #japanese #kiku honda

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ali-alice-alison · 5 years

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The Hayloft

“Alright, it’s in here,” Daisy excitedly proclaimed as she dragged Leslie by the hand into her family’s old wooden barn.

The goats were standing around silently, just stabled for the night half an hour ago. Some were chewing softly on some straw. Tools lined the right wall of the rectangular barn, below the hayloft. Leslie spotted the rusty old hooked poles used to pull down bales of hay propped up next to a green rake. Daisy and her had gotten themselves into some serious trouble a few months back when they’d tried to use those poles to practice for the staff-fighting tournament at the Festival of Bells. They were too young to enter, but still, they were determined to train for when they were old enough in a couple of years.

Daisy let go of Leslie’s hand as she moved to put the creaky ladder into position.

“You’re gonna love this, Les, just wait till you see it!”

Leslie couldn’t help but smile at her friend. Between the two of them, she herself was usually the more hyperactive one. Not that Daisy lacked for energy, she simply tended to be a bit more composed. This thing she wanted to show her must really be something special.

“I haven’t seen you this excited since I gave you that book about that man who has to save the world while slowly going mad, Daise. I can’t wait to find out what’s got you so riled up.”

Daisy smiled at her in that playful way she did when Leslie said something amusing, or sometimes when she was flattered. “Thanks again for that, that was a really cool present. Just come up here and you’ll see,” she said as she began climbing the ladder to the hayloft.”

Leslie followed suit after Daisy reached the top. Two on the ladder at the same was dangerous; the thing wasn’t very stable, as they’d learned the hard way a few years back.

When she got to the top, Leslie found her friend crouching behind a stack of hay bales in the corner of the loft. Daisy looked at her with eager eyes shining with anticipation, glimmering in the soft, warm light of the lantern they’d brought. Now burning with curiosity, Leslie approached to find out what Daisy was so eager to show her.

Behind the hay bales lay a tiny little field mouse sleeping peacefully on a small folded up blanket. Leslie leaned in to inspect it closer. The poor thing looked like it had been hurt quite badly, but it didn’t seem to be in a lot of pain. She could spot small stitches where the animal had been wounded and apparently sewed up again.

“Muffin got a hold of him a couple of weeks ago, but she got distracted and left him alive,” Daisy explained. The Lewis’ family cat was an excellent mouser and she didn’t normally leave her prey alive. “It was so sad. He was just lying there on the floor of the barn, not even able to move. I just couldn’t leave him like that. So I took him up here to hide him from my Pa and I gave him some food and water. Stitched him up as fast as I could. Wasn’t easy on such a small animal and I was scared that disinfecting the wounds might kill him, but I went with my gut and I did it! I’ve been giving him small pieces of banana and sunflower seeds every day and he’s slowly been getting better. He’s not here sometimes now, so I think he’s healed enough to go, but he keeps coming back. I think he likes sleeping on the blanket.”

Leslie looked in awe as her friend explained passionately, her face cast in that warm orange glow of the lantern. When she was done explaining, Daisy smiled warmly at the mouse. She looked so beautiful in that light, with that kind, soft smile on her face. Leslie didn’t know what to say, so she did the only thing that felt right and hugged Daisy tightly.

“This is amazing,” she said after a short while, pulling out of the hug slightly and pressing her forehead against Daisy’s. “I can’t believe you managed to nurse it back to health! Actually, scratch that, I can totally believe it from you. You’re just that kind.”

Daisy’s smile turned into a broad one, Leslie could see her dark brown eyes glittering with joy. She was so pretty when she smiled, the way the corners of her eyes crinkled up in just that way, like no one else. You could see the warmth in Daisy’s eyes when she smiled and Leslie could see them very well from this distance. They were very close.

Suddenly, she released that their foreheads were still pressed together. She hadn’t even been thinking about it; it had just felt natural, but they’d sat like that for a pretty long time now. Daisy continued to just smile at her. Was she blushing? Surely that must be a trick of the light. Leslie suddenly became very aware of the heat in her own cheeks. Was she blushing? Their noses were almost touching as they sat staring into each other’s eyes. Leslie could feel the warmth coming off her friend’s face, could feel her breathing. Was she imagining things or was Daisy breathing slightly faster than normal? Her lips looked so soft...

Leslie moved on instinct. She wasn’t really sure what she was doing, but it felt right. She lifted her right hand, which had been resting on Daisy’s knee, and gently cupped her face, caressing her cheek with her thumb. She closed her eyes, leaned in... and kissed Daisy.

It was over very quickly, just a small peck on the lips really, but Leslie had never felt so alive. Adrenaline rushed inside of her as she took her hand away and backed up her face. Excitement suddenly turned into fear. What if that’s not what Daisy wanted! She could have just totally ruined their friendship!

“S-sorry,” Leslie stuttered. “I... I shouldn’t have! I’m so-”

“It’s okay,” Daisy said as she put a hand on Leslie’s leg. “I... I liked that. I liked that a lot.” The warm smile was back on her face. She quickly glanced to the side, as if hesitating to say something. She was definitely blushing now. “I think secretly... Maybe I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” She moved in closer and rested her head on Leslie’s shoulder.

“Me too,” Leslie said quietly, and she realized it was true. She’d never thought about it quite so directly, but it was the truth. She had wanted to do that. Her insides felt like they were on fire, but in a good way. Thoughts racing and all warm inside, she was a boiling cauldron of emotions. There was no more fear though. Daisy had managed to dispel that with just a few simple words. She leaned in her head to rest on top of Daisy’s. This was right. This was the most right she’d ever felt. Her stomach felt like it would turn inside out from pure excitement and yet she was completely at peace.

“There’s another blanket in the corner over there. I spent a couple of nights here when the mouse was still very weak, to keep him company. Wanna just sit here together for a while?”

Leslie lifted her head and all she could do was nod, smiling softly. She was still too stunned to say anything. Daisy moved to grab the blanket and the two of them sat down next to each other with their backs up against the wall, wrapped in warmth and comfort. After sitting wrapped in each other’s arms for a while, saying and doing nothing but sharing in this magical moment together, Leslie turned her head and looked into Daisy’s eyes once more. Feeling a lot more confident, the next kiss was more than just a small peck.

#Leslie #Daisy #Leslie Green #Daisy Lewis #VTM #backstory #wlw #fluff #I love my babies

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lavenderthebook-blog · 4 years

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Chapter 1: Just me and old ghosts.

On the 3rd on June, my feet landed in the wilds of Ireland.

I shall not share with you exactly where, because I don’t wish for people to go there seeking what I found. Just know that, on that day, the clouds gave way to light, and it was bright. I looked about at where I’d come to summer this year. The old, worn cobbled courtyard paved the way between 3 structures. First was the small 20-meter-long cottage that I’d been told to not enter. It’s door crumbled to the whims of the wind, and as I tried to gaze in through the window, which was held in place by cobwebs, I only saw old furniture, baskets of nick knacks, and the occasional thing that glimmered in the light, but which I could not make out from outside. My hand touched the wall of the cottage as I attempted to perch myself upward for a better look, the warmth of the day was sucked away from me, and I was left cold. And that was the end of that. I did not fancy being murdered in a haunted cottage. Whilst that would make a great little book, be thankful it’s not this one. I certainly am. Second, the garage. One quick peek around the corner showed me that it was not simply used as a resting place for unfinished projects and lost things. It was full of every conceivable item a farmer might use, from any conceivable time. I will defend to my deathbed that I saw the world very first scythe mounted on a mantle in the back. No lights existed in this place bar that which crept in through cracks and nooks from outside. Not haunted, so, comparatively, better than the cottage. Thirdly, lastly, and grandest, was the main house. It was as beautiful brute, with no finesse or grace to it. It had been built to weather the coldest of winters, and it did so proudly. It’s hanging baskets of flowers, small rusted windows, mouldy dark guttering, and faded cream paint was nothing special, but a welcome dose of rural life. No thatched roof. A shame, as I always wanted to see what they were like. Instead, just plain black tiles. I reached under the mat and found the key, unlocked the lock, and stepped in.

Who doesn’t like seeing an agga when they walk into a home? It’s the heart of a house, and whilst time may have forgotten them, my heart never will. Fond memories of my youth came back to me. Flipping the toast whist it was in its weird rigid net. The shovelling of sausages into one of its many doors only to then shovel them into myself. The time-honoured tradition of resting sock covered feet on it when winter came to try fend off frostbite. It made me think of my Mum and my Dad. They won’t be mentioned again in this book, but if they read this, know that whenever I see an agga, I think of you both. The agga, acting as a sort of all-in-one cooking device dubbed this room the kitchen. The plain wooden cupboards adorning the bare brick walls, large steel sink, and varnished wooden island that doubled as both food prepping area and food consumption area confirmed this further. I dropped my bags on the wooden floor and headed further into the heart of the beast.

The only way onwards from the kitchen was the deep darkness of the hallway. With only one painted glass window as a light source, as well as any that happened to spill out of the kitchen, the hallway was likely as bright at midday as it was at midnight. Luckily, the small radiator, white stairs, and the cheerful nature of the painted glass did give it a more friendly feel rather than fiendish. The white stairs lay to my left, whilst further on to my right was a closed door.

The door led to a small, but cosy room, painted a now faded zinc, hosted a tv wearing its AV cable input as if a row of medals in the far-right corner, and a surprisingly new and likely Swedish bookshelf on the left, which was newer than any of the books and things that lay on its shelves. Betwixt them lay the large, ornate fireplace, its steel cold to the touch, but clearly having been used a lot as it had been blackened by soot. I’d imagine it grew a shade darker each year, as it would be necessary come winter. The sofa across from all of these was comfy. It filled the room with dust when I let myself fall into it, but its faded emerald colour and the sheer depth it let me fall into told me I’d be spending many a morning sat in it, happily munching at toast whilst guessing at the tv’s static charades in an effort to watch something.

Now up the stairs, which creaked a bit, but who doesn’t like a minorly creaky step? It gives such boring a thing some character. Upstairs were 4 rooms. Two were almost identical bedrooms, with only a small table, a single bed on a steel bedframe, and a chair in them. The only difference was that one was painted periwinkle blue and faced north, the other fuschia and south.

The next room was a grand bathroom and was above the kitchen, and was painted almost completely clinical, pure white. An old standalone bath, held upright by four feet moulded into the shape of lion paws, stood proudly cantered on the left wall, with the largest windows yet just next to it, ensuring that an unfortunate passing robin would be sure to catch a fright. The (thankfully) modern toilet was built into the far wall, and was next to the sink, which was a big clunky thing, and reminded me of why the saying used to be actually somewhat funny. On the right was a small dressing room, filled with now empty shelves, and a smell of very slight mildew and fabric softener. Hidden behind the bathroom’s door was a rather clinical 5 by 5 by 8 upright cut into the wall that had an almost watering can like nozzle fixed at the top, and a garden hose like tap on one of the ‘’walls’’. This was the ‘’’’shower’’’’. I saw no temperature nozzle, and realised there was no choice here, only pain. All of a sudden, I began to miss the city a little more.

I finally came to what I was to be my bedroom, which was decorated in a delicious shade of blonde (though, it may have been so appealing due to my own like for women who wore it). It was a large room, with a fittingly large queen sized bed centred along the wall, bedside tables on either side, with a large old hickory leather travel trunk at the foot of the bed. 3 differently styled wardrobes were dotted around the rooms walls. One was Japanese in appearance, with a beautiful mural painted across the two doors, and then otherwise raven. One a simple, but large oak thing, which seemed to lean slightly to the left. The last had once clearly been its twin, but was now covered in glitter, little drawings in crayon, and was marked on its side with 2 of the same names repeated upward as the age next to them grew too. It was a wardrobe that had been loved, and so I was pleased to have it here with me. ‘‘But the back blurb of the book promised me a romance story. What does a soggy description of a house have to do with that?’’ I hear you moan.

Not much really, if I’m honest. Though You’re quite the impatient bitch aren’t you? But if this book is to mean anything to you, as it does me, you have to come with me on this journey. You see, Ireland has a magic too it. Its raw and old. It lets life creep into every little thing that will hold it, and so all these pieces of furniture and appliances are just that, furniture and appliances. But for my three months there, they each took on a little life of their own and became dear friends to me. This is how you must see when reading this book. The best way to understand it is to go and hold something of yours that you’ve had for an age and feel yourself give it life. Ireland is a place where even a fence can take on such a life. And does so rather well. So yes, at times this will be a little pretentious, a little overly dramatic and poetic, and a little strange, but I will try my best to put not only my thoughts, but what I was feeling into words for you, dear reader. All I ask is that you try your hand at reading them as if you were there with me, and not simply an observer. Don’t read the moment, live it like you live the memory of your first kiss: with vivacity and a passion that you can’t escape.

But you were promised ghosts in the chapter title, and you shall have them. Unfortunately, no white sheets came to life and booed at me that night. But as I sat falling into the sofa, the fading light of day painting the bookshelf, tv, and fireplace in fantastic hues of blush and tangerine, I thought on why I’d come here. I’d come with more than just physical baggage. You thought a person ventures out into the Irish wilderness to live in a farm for 3 months on a whim? I’d like to hope my whims would land me in some place sunnier, and with more obvious ways to escape or drown my sorrows like Ibiza, or New York. Unfortunately, I came here for a reason. I am Irish, but I’d never lived there. I’d not grown up there. I’d missed out on the unique zest for life that Ireland gifted its people, and I was in dire need for it now. Why? Because I was broken hearted, broke, and hopeless. My heart had been broken, as it often is, but a love turned sour. We’d been together for one amazing year, three good months, one odd month, then one great month, and then three months where I’d watched them fall in love with someone else. Now it had been one year without them, and without hope in the idea of love. It was not a pleasant feeling. I wanted them, but at the same time knew it would be like drinking poison. Even as I write this, my hand squeezes the pen as I’m forced to remembered fond memories that I wish forgotten. I was broke because, for the last few months, I’d not written anything. Well, I’d written things. Small articles for a paper. A short story that lost an armature writing competition to a tale called ‘’Me and Rum: Fun Fun Fun’’. A children’s book that only proved to me that it was harder to write a children’s book than I’d previously thought. Turns out not every animal is cute when it can talk. Because of this, I’d lost all hope in myself as a writer, and the roaring blazes that had once fuelled me as I wrote now grew dimmer by the day.

And so, I’d returned to where my ancestors had been born, and grown, and bled, and cried, and loved, and fought, and danced, and lost, and died in the hope that they might lend me their strength, or that the zest I’d missed out on would be paid to me with a bundle of interests attached. This, oddly, would turn out to be true.

But for now, simply imagine eyes closing as a laptop slowly slides off the side of a lap and into the sofa. A head falling into a chest. And the sound of snoring filling the house. I’d fallen asleep not knowing that beyond these walls she lay in wait for me, as much as I had, in a way, been waiting for her. I wonder if she’d spotted me as I’d come into the house, and watched through those rusty windows as I met each room, cooked with the agga, and mastered a duet with the tv where I held its antenna out the window and it, in turn, played the news. I hope she’d not seen me dance around under the showers cold water though. If she did, I hope it at least made her laugh.

#Lavender Chapter1 Justmeandoldghosts

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prettieparker86 · 6 years

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In The Bleak Midwinter || Part 8

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 Part 6, Part 7, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12 & Part 13

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Mentions of adult content

Gif Credit: @smallestdeath, @peakypeaky, @peakyblindersdaily Thank you for allowing me to use your gifs!

Tag: @lainey-lane, @pindlemouse, @thelastemzy, @helloandreabeth, @fandoms-broke-my-life, @taylxr0, @shelbysbushblog, @accio-witty-username, @iamtheonewhocares, @infinitelycharmed23, @kingsmanstories, @shelby-gin-limited, @taylxr0, @sympathyfortheblinderdevil, @neversleeping4am, @icebluegriffin @johhnshelby If you left a message I tagged you. If you don’t want that just let me know. And If you want to be tagged in the future let me know.

Note: These two are a complicated pair, each with enough baggage to burn down a house.

I tried to model a small part after one of my favorite scene in 1x06. See if you catch it. Hopefully I did it justice.

This one goes out to @peakytoms and @subhamamu. You both are amazing! Thank you for supporting this story!

It’s so late when he finally comes home, Tommy doesn’t even check to see if you’re still up.

The sun set hours ago, the moon high up in the sky, hidden behind the blanket of clouds that cover everything, raining down on the earth like a child in a need a bath.

Tommy heads straight up to his room. Moving slowly on the old creaky wooden steps he knows by heart. His feet weaving as he moves around the ones that squeal and the ones that will bear his weight more forgivingly.

You watch him silently from the shadow of the curtain that separates the betting shop as he goes, before you move for the parlor to pour you both a drink.

Polly glances up at you from where she sits by the fire with a book and a drink. As far you can tell Tommy hasn’t told her or anyone else about who you really are. No one’s said a thing.

“Thought I’d bring him a drink,” You say simply, softly.

“I’m sure that’s just what he wants.” She answers calmly. A look in her eye - illuminated by the fire, it makes goosebumps form on your skin, and sends the distinct feeling she knows everything stirring in your belly.

You follow Tommy up the stairs, quiet as not wake the boys asleep in your room, or his brother Finn in the other as you stand outside the crack of Tommy’s door, taking a moment to watch him.

You find him standing in front of the window and you wonder if it’s his favorite place to stand and ponder the day’s events – the loot and prices, gains and losses.

The rain beats heavy down against the panes of glass, echoing through the room. He’s already taken off his jacket, standing in his pinstripe button down, suspenders, and trousers before the window.

The street light illuminating him as he puffs away at a cigarette. The smoke billowing and dancing around him in the glow cascading in through the window.

It’s the creak of the door that gives you away as you slip inside his room. Sending Tommy turning back around to see who’s there.

“What time you call this?” You say on a quiet breath you hope won’t carry through the house and the thin walls.

You move toward him, hand extended out, offering him the drink you so graciously poured.

Tommy takes the drink, a smile wide spreading across his face, crinkling at his eyes. Bringing a boyish lightness to his face you so rarely see these days. The sight of it blinds you. Leaves you captive to the magic of it as you stare at his beautiful smile, like lookin’ at the sun.

“You waitin up for me now?” Tommy says, that spark in his eyes enough to leave you mesmerized as you slowly move back, searching for clarity and something solid to hold onto, until you reach the wall near the door.

Leaning against it, you take a slow slip of your drink to distract yourself from the power of his gaze and shrug your shoulders lightly.

“I like to know you’re home safe.” You admit.

Tommy follows your lead, taking a sip of whiskey as his eyes hold steadily upon you, gazing over the rim of the glass in a way that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

“Might start to think yeah missed me.” Tommy says on that low gritty breath of his that makes your senses come alive, before he takes another long pull from his cigarette.

“But you know better.” You tease him through a cheeky grin, taking another sip of your drink.

You didn’t come in here to flirt with him. That wasn’t the plan. You came in to hear about his day over a drink like you use to, but as Tommy moves across the room and closer to you, you realize things aren’t the way they were before. You’ve crossed some invisible barrier and now there’s no way back.

Your breath quickens and grows shallow as Tommy takes the glass from your hand, setting it on the dresser by his bed.

Stubbing out his cigarette, he stealthily moves back to you like a thief in the night, closing in on his prey without warning. Having Tommy close once again, watching his body settle over yours, the shadow of him covering you as your eyes finds his, only amplifies how different things are now.

And you wish you could pretend this surprises you, startles you in some way. Pretend you wish things would just go back to the way they were before – something simpler, but all your bravado and games slip away as the distinct scent of Tommy fills your nose, intoxicating your senses.

The heat of his body – warm and calling, the feel of him near sends your heart pounding harder in your chest as you stare up into his hauntingly deep eyes anxiously awaiting his next move.

Daring to see what he’ll do next. See what he wants, even though you already feel it in your bones.

“You missed me.” Tommy whispers, on a low sexy breath full of gravel. No question in his words as his thumb and forefinger pinch at the bottom of your chin.

You want to deny it, you don’t want to give into him so easily, but you can’t stop the pull inside you. You’ve missed him. And you had no idea how badly until you have him this close once again.

Your body suddenly betrays you, aching for him to come just a little closer as Tommy tilts your face slowly up to his. The rough pad of his thumb running teasingly over your bottom lip.

Pulling at the plump flesh as his eyes drill into yours, daring you to deny what he already knows… you missed him, you missed him so fucking bad. Your eyes fall closed as Tommy leans down to kiss you, putting you out of your misery. His lips are as soft as you remember, but his kiss is firm and hungry like he’s missed you just as badly.

It’s that knowledge coupled with the heat of his mouth that has you surrendering, kissing him back just as hard without hesitation. It’s barely been a week since you tasted him and already you greedily drink him in like you’ve been lost in the desert for weeks.

Tommy tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, not your favorite combination, but on him you can’t seem to get enough. You want to drink Tommy in while he devours you alive, all in the same breath.

Your arms lace around his neck, your hands running against his short hair, the gentle curve of his head and tangle into the longer strands on top, weak against your need for him.

Tommy’s tongue slips inside your mouth with the unspoken invitation of your parted lips. Your senses welcome him, rushing and coming alive with the taste of him rich and full within you once again, more intoxicating than the finest whiskey to ever pass your lips.

It’s the feel of Tommy’s hand at the back of your head that catches your attention, tangling into your locks, pulling you deeper into the kiss he’s so eager to take from you.

Until you’re forced to break apart as your lung beg for air. His breath is heavy against your lips, as rapid as your own, as the feel of having Tommy close once again pounds wild in your heart.

You think you might gain a moment of clarity in this haze of desire, but instead you’re pulled back under the currents of this unrelenting wave before you can even catch your breath as Tommy’s assault moves steadily down along the line of your jaw, pepping you with kisses, leaving you delirious and poor in judgment.

“Tommy, the boys are in the next room, Finn’s in the other an’ Polly’s downstairs.” You manage to whisper, reminding him that while you might feel alone, in truth - you’re anything but.

This house is full and the walls are thin. Your breath far more heavy and wanton than you intended as it shutters past your lips with the feel of Tommy’s mouth slipping down just below your ear to that delicate spot that makes your knees go weak as you clutch him tighter.

“Then yeah better be quiet, eh?” Tommy teases, you can hear it on his breath.

His voice deep and dark as it rattles against your skin, before he gives you a love bite just below your ear, his hand reaching over beside you to slowly close the bedroom door. The hinges creaking and moaning against his force.

Your heart races with the implication of his words, the latch of the door, but then Tommy’s distracting you with the feel of his mouth moving steadily down the slope of your neck. The hold of his lips, the warm wet heat of his mouth as he sucks and licks at your skin.

You feel your mind growing dizzy as you rapidly pull the suspenders off his arms, giving into your own hunger, your palms roaming the contours of the muscles that line his broad shoulders as you do.

Your body curves into Tommy, your hips creating friction against the seam of his pants as your head pushes harder against the wall. Urging him of on as Tommy pushes you further against it, seducing you, body and soul.

Your mind torn between the rashness of this decision and the need for him pumping ever harder through your veins. Your hands tug at his shirt and trousers, searching for the warmth of him beneath. Needing to touch him, needing to feel him on your palms and against your skin.

Tommy slips your sweater off your shoulders, his hands as smooth and steady as the fabric slipping free. Letting it fall to floor as his face buries against your newly exposed skin.

He’s so inquisitive. He needs to explore you. Know you. Discover what makes you tick. You can feel it in the roam of his hands, bunching and fisting at the soft fabric of your slip along the curves of you body as your hands disappear under his shirt in equal interest.

Touching and caressing, trying to find every spot that makes you gasp and moan. His mouth driven by the same stubborn pursuit. Moving against your body as he works to find just the spot that will makes your knees go slack and his name shutter past your lips like broken prayers you learned in Mass.

That’s the spot. He finds it as a gasp hitches off your breath, his name falling from your lips in an equal pitch, your legs wobble as you clutch onto Tommy as tightly as you can.

“That feel good, love?” Tommy asks, his breath hot and wavering against you as he revels in the high of making you come undone.

This isn’t what you planned, but all you want is more. The room had been frigid when you came in, the new fire still growing in life, but the embers that seem to burn from Tommy’s hands, the rich heat of his mouth leave all traces of cold slipping from your body as you burn up under his touch.

“You wear this ‘round the house with Finn, eh?” Tommy taunts you, his breath so low and hot against your skin it feels like it can melt you with its radiating heat.

You have to fight to not let your eyes slip closed, growing drunk off the way his voice only amplifies the power of his touch.

You know who Tommy means - his brother, not your son. A teenage boy who might find the sight of you in nothing more than a night-slip the recipe for hormone fueled fantasies.

But you recognize what this is really about, it’s that part of Tommy that doesn’t share, that get jealous at the thought of someone else having a glimmer of you, even Finn. Your nails rake against his hips and down along his happy trail in mild retribution before slipping your hands free of his shirt and pushing him back from you.

Your eyes meet as Tommy takes a step back, a twinge of surprise in his gaze from the boldness of your action, but there’s something else lingering in those piercing blues too, a spark that tells you he likes it when you give it as good as you get, that you can be feisty and ill-mannered when the moment warrants.

A smirk curls at the corner of your mouth, you like this, this game of discovering a whole new layer of each other. It’s exciting and thrilling, and makes you feel alive in a way you haven’t felt in years.

“No one holds hours like you, Tom. Everyone but Polly’s been asleep for hours. So maybe I’m wearin’ it for you…” You tell him boldly, your eyes catching against the faint yellow light that sits on the dresser beside his bed.

A smirk curls at his lips in approval, sending you biting at your bottom one as your belly coils with a hunger you’re still rediscovering with the power of. The distance between you and Tommy doing nothing to quell the need for him building and mounting inside you.

“Or maybe I’m just wearin’ it.” You throw back as you slowly approach him, the urge to touch him surging through your veins as you reach for the buttons on his shirt and begin to quickly work them free.

Tommy’s arms envelope you in his strength, filling you with a sense of security and trust you haven’t felt in so long. You feel his hands roam against the shape of your body as you move in close to him.

His distinct scent filling you as your mouth finds his neck, your lips trailing your fingers only to grow frustrated when his undershirt gets in your way.

“Come ‘ere,” Tommy says quietly, sensing and understanding you in ways you can’t wrap your mind around, his hands cupping your face as he draws your pout back to his lips.

Softening your frustrations with a kiss that’s tender but greedy as his hands fall to the clinch of your waist, sliding against the smooth fabric of your slip as it rounds your hips and down along your butt, letting your hands finish the task of undoing his shirt in peace.

Tommy helps you pull his button-down off his arms, knowing how eager you are to get rid of it, letting you tug off his undershirt quickly after.

You want to fill your mouth with the taste him, run your tongue against his skin, feel his breath shutter and grip tighten, it’s an urge so demanding it initially surprises you.

This isn’t who you are, or at least not who you’ve been in a very long time, but with Tommy your quickly discovering parts you thought were unnecessary coming back to life.

Your mouth fills with the distinct salty sweet taste of him as your lips trail his chest with kisses, your tongue stroking slowly against him. Tommy’s arms hold you tight and safe, guiding you both as you move steadily toward his bed.

But his feet come to an abrupt stop, his heavy breath suddenly unbearably ragged in your ears, his fingers digging deeper into your hair and flesh as your hand slips inside the front of his trousers.

It’s a powerful feeling, one you’re still coming to grips with. The sense that you have him, all of him, in the palm of your hand. That a man as powerful and feared as Thomas Shelby can your grow weak under your touch.

But Tommy isn’t one to lose control for long as he starts gripping and tugging up your slip. With your last shred of decency rapidly disappearing against the insistence of Tommy’s grip, as your skin meets the cool night air, you take hold of Tommy’s hands, pulling them free of you and take a step back.

Tommy watches you, chest rising and falling heavily with each breath, waiting as you lick your lips and catch his eyes.

“I got no illusions, my eyes are wide open, Tommy.” You tell him, your eyes locked on him as you reach for the straps to your slip, one by one sliding them slowly off your shoulders until the fabric falls free like a feather in the wind, and drops to the floor.

You watch a lump bob hard in Tommy’s throat as his eyes scan dark and hungerly over your naked body. His hands making quick work of his trousers, dropping what’s left his clothes down around his ankles. You watch his chest rise and fall heavily as his gaze returns to yours, waiting, sensing you aren’t finished.

You take a step toward him, your bare feet creaking on the floorboards, your eyes taking in the perfect symmetry of his body that leaves you hungry and wanting, now more than ever.

His callused hands reach out for you, beckon you, as Tommy takes a seat on the edge of his bed, the sound echoing through the room as his arms encircling the flesh at your hips and yours tangle in his hair.

“Just don’t play me for a fool, Tommy. That’s all I ask.” Your breath heavy, almost a plea as you gaze into his eyes as if you’re asking for mercy.

You don’t trust yourself with him like this, not entirely. You’ve played this game before and lost. You can’t do it again. It can’t be like it was before.

Cupping your cheek gently in the warmth of his palm, Tommy pulls you into a slowly burning kiss. The kind that leaves your mind delirious and desires crumbing to this will. When it ends, he rests your head gently against his, his thumb stroking softly at your cheek.

“No lies, Fee.” Tommy whispers on a low husky breath that sinks its teeth in you, his hands slipping to caress your hips as he guides you onto his lap.

The old bed creaking with the changing in weight as your legs settling on either side of him. You lower down across him on a fluttered breath, skin to skin – soft, warm, and bare.

Heated silk meeting firm strength as you stare into the bluest eyes you’ve ever known, your body craving the feel of him within – as close as a man can get. A heavy breath slips from both your lips in hunger and anticipation as you gaze into the darkness of his haunting eyes.

“No games.” Tommy swears, his hand stroking along the side of your face and into your hair as he seals his words with a kiss.

The silence is sliced by the sound of Tommy’s heavy breath, rapid and uneven, struggling to find a natural rhythm… Or maybe that’s your own. Mixed and mingled like the dew that lingers on your skin, his and yours.

Your body’s still buzzes with release, your muscles relaxed from the surge of pleasure, your mind drunk off the rush of endorphins… no one makes you cum like Tommy.

You gaze up at the ceiling, faded paint and chipped plaster as you try to catch your breath. You feel the mattress shift, the springs squeak as Tommy reaches across you for the cigarette case and lighter on the table beside you.

He catches your eyes, a devilish glint in his heavy gaze he leans back against the pillows beside you.

Your eyes feel heavy from the surge of energy spent and you think it’s time to go before you fall asleep. With Polly in the house now too, you know everyone will know about your little secret if you wake up in Tommy’s bed one more time.

Pulling back the blanket, you rise, swinging your legs over the side as you reach down to the floor for your slip, the boards as cold and bitter on your hand as they are on your feet.

You move to slip it over your head, but you never get that far as you feel Tommy’s hand run gently down the spine of your back. His fingers trailing over every groove, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“Where ‘re you goin’?” He asks, his voice low from the same level of exhaustion that leaves you feeling nearly drunk.

The heat of his breath suddenly against your back and shoulder as he rises on the bed. His soft lips finding their way to your shoulder, then the back of your neck as he gently sweeps your hair off to one shoulder.

“I thought you didn’ want anyone to finds us.” You answer honestly.

Trying hard to keep your breath steady against the feel of Tommy’s soft lips playing tricks on your senses. He shouldn’t have this kind of power over you. Shouldn’t be able to make you weak and hungry with the brush of his lips alone.

You feel Tommy’s hand snake across your bare belly, his rough palm delicious against your soft skin as he slowly draws you back down to the bed beside him.

Your head reacquaints with the pillows, you gaze up as Tommy fills the space above you. Settling back over you as his arms dig into the pillow on either side your head. The depth of his blue eyes and sharp cheekbones leaving you captive to his will.

“It’s not nearly dawn yet. The boys won’ be up for hours.” Tommy tells you, staring down into your eyes with the magic of his. That magic that sparks like a match, igniting something inside you that yearns for him, calls for him, as if you can’t ever get enough.

As if Tommy hears those unrequited cries, he gently cups your jaw, tilting your chin as he drops down to meet you, killing the hunger building inside you with a kiss. His kiss brief, your mouth left wanting as his lips dip to your chin before moving on, as Tommy takes what he wants and needs from you.

Instinctively, your hands slip along the back of his neck and into his hair. Your back curving up against him as his lips find their way down your throat, curling into him as you let yourself get pulled back under the currents of his desire.

Your bodies speaking a language he knows all too well. Every stroke, every kiss, every caress, Tommy plays your body like an instrument he’s diligently practiced and mastered for years. But as the moon light creeps in through the window, the thoughts find you, the fear finds you. Clinching at your heart.

It scares you how easy it was to fall into his arms. You were nervous the first time in the bathtub. Unsure of yourself and difference in experience levels, but you couldn’t climb into Tommy’s bed fast enough this time.

No reservations, no trepidation, just hunger and need. And something else you’re terrified to admit… Heart. You know what you feel for Thomas Shelby, but feeling it and climbing into his bed is a dangerous mix.

You let him spill inside you again and what scares you even more than that, is the fact that you didn’t want to ask him to stop. Lost in that moment with Tommy as you both come undone at the same time, lost in his eyes, lost in his arms, you didn’t want him to pull away. You wanted him buried within you, connected to you.

But you can’t be that careless and you promised, no lies, no games, no illusions. So as the heat of Tommy’s mouth slips down along your breastbone, chasing his hand as it caresses you, the bud of your nipple already raised against his attention and begging for the warm wet relief of his mouth once again, you know you have to speak up.

Your gaze drifts up to the ceiling for clarity as your hands untangle from his hair. You suck in a deep breath as his mouth finds the delicate spot between your breasts.

“What are we doin, Tommy? Do I kill the loneliness or am I savin’ you money on whores?” You ask boldly, with no apologies.

You feel Tommy’s mouth still against your breast, his breath heavy and thick like dew against your skin. You feel his muscles tense around you, before Tommy slowly rises.

Hovering over you as he looks down into your eyes with those baby blues and their lethal stare, as if he could suck all the air out of a room, starting with your lungs. You don’t back down. You refuse to as you stare boldly back into his eyes.

“If I just wanted a fuck love I’d go somewhere else.” Tommy answers, his eyes drilling into you far more serious than the easy air that lifts off his breath.

The sharpness of his cheekbones creating hollows of his eyes. But you meet his challenge and don’t surrender, because you refuse to let Tommy Shelby intimidate you and you need to know. There’s too much at stake here not to know.

“And do you, do you still go somewhere else?” You dare you ask.

You don’t look away. You gaze only into his eyes. Needing to know if your feelings are ill placed. If this is purely what it is and nothing more. Or if his heart has placed a wager as clearly as your own has.

Tommy stares down at you, the chill of his eyes softening as he begins to understand what you’re asking. What you need to know.

“No” He answers simply.

Tommy doesn’t make declarations of devotion, this you know. You also know your staring into the eyes of a man who has already loved and lost dearly.

You can never forget what brought you into his life to begin with. A widower who was buckling under the weight of an insurmountable loss while trying to raise his small child. This is uncharted territory for you both.

The weight of his stare, it makes your heart begin to race harder in your chest, but you have to push forward.

“Do you have anyone else, Thomas?” You ask, even though you’re almost afraid to.

This is a loaded question when you’re asking a man like Thomas Shelby. A man who could have anyone, any time he pleases.

But Tommy sees your fear as he reaches out to gently brush his thumb across your cheek.

“No.” He answers, low and steadfast on his breath. The certainty of his answer sending tingles rippling under your skin.

Overtaken with a feeling, you lean up, kissing his lips short and sweet several times in quick succession, expressing your approval without the confines of words.

Tommy grips at your cheek again, a smile warming on his face as he leans back down to yours.

“That’s nice.” He whispers approvingly before he steals your breath with a long heated kiss that shows you just how much he likes to please you.

You pull Tommy close as he kisses you harder, drawing him back between the hold of your thighs, before you hook your leg against his hip and shift.

Tackling him onto the bed beneath you, a groan pressing against your lips as it leaves his surprised mouth, the bed moaning loudly in protest.

Your heart beats faster - full and lively as you stare down at him, your hair hanging down around you as your hands skim down along the lines and grooves of his chest and stomach, playing with the hair that bunches at the top.

Tommy gazes up at you, the excitement in your smile like an infection spreading to him as his mouth curls and widens.

“That answer pleases you, does it?” He asks as if he doesn’t already know.

Staring down at the man you love, you nod slowly as you draw your bottom lip between your teeth coyly and rock slowly against him, the way you know he can’t resist.

It’s a low groan you hear before Tommy takes you by surprise, your hands gripping tightly at his shoulders as he suddenly rises. His arm gaining leverage behind him as the other grips at your hip, his fingers curving into the flesh demandingly as he begins to rock you slowly against him.

“Don’t tease me, love.” The sound of Tommy’s husky breath in your ear as your bodies move and grind dangerously close together. Igniting a fire that has your hands gripping him closer as you fall desperately back to his lips.

When you come downstairs in the morning, you’re pleasantly surprised to see the boys already gathered around the table, eating bread with jam as Polly sips at tea by the heat of the shove.

You greet your boys warmly, placing a gentle kiss atop both their heads as you tell them good morning.

The room smells as warm as it feels, a delicious mixture of tea spices and freshly baked bread, you flash Polly a smile of thanks as you take a seat at the table and feel the wood creak as you sit.

“Here drink this.” Polly instructs as you settle in, no question in her tone as she places a steaming cup in front of you on the table surface.

You thank her for the gesture before drawing the warm cup to your lips and taking a small sip, only to instantly fight the urge to spit it back out as the vile taste burns its way across your tongue and down your throat.

“What is this?” You cough, your eyes watering as they shoot over to Polly by the stove as if she’s trying to poison you.

“An old gypsy recipe. Stops yea from gettin’ pregnant… unless that’s what yer after.” She answers you matter-of-factly, but the probing look in her eyes holds steadily upon you to see what your next move will be.

Without question you hastily draw the cup back to your lips as you hold her gaze. Refusing to breath in the pungent aroma of what’s to come as you quickly sip it down as fast as you can.

“Good,” Polly nods, pleased, before she turns back to her own cup of tea, a far more pleasant brew, you’re sure.

“How did you- Did Tommy-“ You start – fail - and then try again, but still never quite find the right words for what you’re trying to ask, especially with the children at the table too.

You’re still determined to keep them out of this complicated mess. Everything has been changing so fast in their little worlds lately, you want to keep what normalcy you can. But luckily Polly knows, she always knows.

“He didn’ have to. I practically raised that boy. I’ve heard that distinct sound Thomas’ bed makes enough times, I know what it means.” She says with absolutely candor.

Her gaze holding yours boldly as you blush around your tea cup. Reminding you of what you already knew, very little gets past Polly.

“What’s pregnant?” Charlie’s high pitch voice picks up from the table, pulling your attention away from Polly and onto the little toe head across from you.

Your mind quickly attempts to formulate a proper answer for a child so young when Finn, precocious as he is, beats you to it.

“It’s when you have a baby in your tummy. When I was little we lived with aunt Nan – she wasn’ my real aunt, but mum said I could call her that. She always had a baby in her tummy.” Finn explains as if he has the answers for everything and considers himself wise beyond his years compared to Charlie, even though the boys are barely three years apart.

His big green eyes turn onto you next from across the table with a clever look in his eyes that makes your mouth run dry.

“You havin’ a baby mum?”

“Where do babies come from?” Charlie spits out at almost the exactly same moment and suddenly you find yourself choking on the vile tea as if it went down the wrong pipe.

Coughing hard, you try to dislodge the liquid from the wrong pipe as you hastily place your cup of tea back down onto the table before you spill it.

Not missing the smirk of amusement growing on Polly’s face before she sips quietly at her tea, leaving you to handle this one.

“Well aren’t you curious boys this morning.” Tommy’s voice fills the room, sending your startled eyes shooting his way as you try to stop the coughing fit that’s overtaken you.

“No one’s havin’ a baby, Finn. An’ that’s a conversation for another time, Charlie.” Tommy answers for you, taking command of the situation like he prefers to.

“Why don’t you boy go on upstairs and finish getting dressed before you give Ms. Fiona a heart attack.” Tommy instructs with a swing of his cap, pointing the boys toward the stairs. “Go on.”

The boys obey him as they always do, taking off for the stairs as if everything they do together is a chance to see who’s the fastest, the smartest, the bravest.

Leaving you, Tommy, and Polly in the kitchen with air awkward and thick enough you could cut it with a knife.

“Mornin’ Pol,” Tommy says, with a tip of his head as he places on his cap before pulling on his favorite leather gloves, cordial, but formal as ever.

“Thomas,” She responses with an equal nod, meeting his gaze as boldly as he delivers it.

The tension between them only amplified by the embarrassing context of the conversation he just stumbled into. Leaving no confusion about what is and isn’t known concerning yours and Tommy’s nightly dalliance.

“Ms. Fiona,” He finally acknowledges you. That look in his icy blue eyes both powerful and captivating as it is brief.

But the smile that curls ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth when you call his name in return makes your heart skip a beat.

“Alright then, I’m headed to the office.” He announces to you both, his eyes scanning over each of you and for a moment you could almost pretend things were as they use to be when he’d leave bright and early for the factory, but nothing is as it used to be.

“Don’t leave the house without taking one of the men with you. I don’t want you an’ the boys going out alone, understood.” He insists, before turning for the door without another word.

You stare down at your tea and bite at your bottom lip as you listen to the front door close. Tommy pays you little mind during the day, when the others are around. At first it confused you, even stung a bit, but then you understood.

He’s determined to keep you safe, which to Tommy means keeping you at arm’s length and also under his thumb, even when the truth of your ever-evolving relationship is right in his face.

But you’ve come to realize it’s more than that too. After Grace, Tommy never wanted someone again, not someone who mattered, who got near that heart he wishes he didn’t have. You don’t know what you and Tommy are, but you can see, a part of it scares him.

And in that way, you understand. It scares you too. After Tony, you gave up on love. It became something you thought was silly and childish. Your focus was survival, a task hard enough, but when you’re with Tommy things are different. You feel alive again. And you can see in his eyes, he does too…

Neither of you quite know what to make of that.

“I’ll leave a tin full of the minced herbs in the back of the cupboard.” Polly says, drawing your attention away from your thoughts and back to the moment.

She waits for your eyes to meet hers before she moves to the seat across from you at the table and finishes.

“Every morning before you eat. Don’t forget. It can stop it from happening, but it can’t remedy anything you’ve already let take hold, understood?” She holds your gaze, awaiting confirmation before you slowly nod.

Every morning, before you eat, or you’re fucked – Got it.

“Good,” Polly answers, leaning back against the chair, the old wood moaning in protest as she sparks up a cigarette.

“I do hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.” She says, taking a long pull of her smoke as it dangles off her long elegant fingers.

Her eyes watching you carefully. You hold her gaze for a moment and swear you see a touch of softness in her iris, or maybe it’s just pity as you hastily gulp down what’s left of your tea as if your life depends on it.

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