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ourdramaqueen · 1 year

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The Monster in the Woods | Fan fic | Wednesday Addams x Tyler Galpin

Rating: General Audiences Fandom: Wednesday Pairing: Wednesday Addams/Tyler Galpin Summary: He immediately retreated until his back hit one of the trees growing at the edge of the clearing, eyes darting around for an escape, but she was already right in front of him. He growled again. “Oh stop this nonsense! I’m not scared of you, and you have no reason to be scared of me.” She stared up into his face. His bulging eyes were a bit ridiculous, but he almost looked… cute. How sickening. Notes: Written for Weyler Writing Week Day 5: The crypt or the woods

Wednesday enjoyed funerals. She’d been crashing them since she was old enough to read the obituary section.

But this one was a new experience. Seeing her parents truly aggrieved felt... wrong. The deceased wasn’t even someone in the family. It was an old friend of theirs—mostly her mother’s, from what she had gathered—from their time at Nevermore Academy, Françoise Galpin, nee Sylvanne. She had been married to the normie Sheriff of the small town of Jericho, Vermont, on the outskirts of which Nevermore stood, and was the mother to Tyler, a boy about a year older than Wednesday, which made him age 9.

Her eyes kept getting drawn to the boy. He was gangly, tall, with unruly caramel curls, his hazel eyes red and puffy from the tears that were streaming down his face as he clung to his stoic father’s side throughout the short ceremony. There weren’t many others present beside father, son, and the Addams family, only the mayor with his wife and son, probably around the same age as her and Tyler, and a black woman with long, wild curly hair and an eclectic taste in clothes and accessories. At the end of the ceremony, the others filed past the grieving family to express their condolences. Her parents stayed back until they were the last ones left.

“Donovan,” her mother said as she stepped up to the Sheriff and clasped his hand in both of hers, while her father patted his shoulder. “I am so sorry. Frannie will be sorely missed.”

“Thank you, Morticia, Gomez.” She could sense that he was not entirely comfortable in the presence of her family. He turned to put his hand on Tyler’s back. “You haven’t seen Tyler since he was a baby. Tyler, these are your mother’s friends, Morticia and Gomez Addams.”

Tyler sniffed and gave them a silent nod.

“And these are our children, Wednesday and Pugsley,” her mother said with a gentle smile, looking at her and her brother.

Predictably, like the softie he was, Pugsley stepped closer to Tyler and hugged him, mumbling, “I’m so sorry your mom died,” before stepping back.

Tyler didn’t acknowledge his hug or his words. Instead he stared at Wednesday, and she stared back.

Though his face was stoic now—a habit learned from his father, perhaps—his changeable eyes were a maelstrom of torment and pain and anger. She had to admit that she couldn’t help but feel drawn to this boy.

“Let’s get this over with,” the Sheriff said gruffly, pulling Wednesday back to their surroundings. Clearly the adults had been talking while she and Tyler had been immersed in their staring contest. “You can follow my car to our house.”

Their eye contact broke as he led his son away, and her parents ushered them to their own car, where Lurch was waiting. As they drove to the Galpins’ house, she could feel her mother’s eyes on her, but she distracted herself by looking at the views passing by outside the windows.

Once there, the children were sat at the round dining table with hot chocolates and some children’s books and coloring supplies, which Pugsley immediately latched on to. The adults sat around the coffee table on the other side of the open plan kitchen/dining/living room, her parents on the sofa and Donovan Galpin on one of the armchairs, discussing some details of the late Mrs. Galpin’s will. Her widower explained that she had been adamant on certain points, against his judgment, but that he was willing to abide by her wishes. It was too tedious to listen to the details, though she heard Nevermore Academy mentioned. No, it was much more interesting to watch Tyler, who sat across from her, staring listlessly at his mug, which held a picture of a sailboat. His tears had finally stopped, but he had made no effort to clean the tracks off his face. He was sitting as still as a statue, clearly listening as the adults talked about his future, but she could sense that underneath the calm exterior, he was anything but calm. It was as if a storm was brewing inside him, getting stronger by the second and threatening to burst through his veneer of control.

His breathing became faster, his eyes changing between hazel and yellow, until suddenly he stood, walking over to the sink and putting his mug into it. Then, with a quick look to ensure the adults weren’t paying attention, he quietly escaped out the back door. No one noticed but Wednesday. She waited for a minute before slipping out after him.

***

Wednesday followed the well-trodden footpath into the forest, but it wasn’t Tyler she found. No, there was a monster on the other side of the clearing, maybe a foot taller than her, gangly, with thick, leathery skin stretching over lean, almost starved-looking long limbs, and a hunched spine. It seemed quite agitated, nay, close to panic as it flailed around, looking down at its own body and at the scraps of fabric it was holding in its claw-tipped, long fingers. She tilted her head as she looked more closely. The fabric looked a lot like Tyler’s suit. Did this monster hurt Tyler? But then where was the boy? And there was something almost familiar about the monster... Her eyes focused on the mop of caramel hair on the top of its head.

Hair the color of Tyler’s.

The boy’s ripped suit in the monster’s hand.

Bulging hazel-yellow eyes met hers as the monster whipped its head around with a growl, finally having noticed her presence.

“Tyler?” She approached him, unfazed.

He immediately retreated until his back hit one of the trees growing at the edge of the clearing, eyes darting around for an escape, but she was already right in front of him. He growled again.

“Oh stop this nonsense! I’m not scared of you, and you have no reason to be scared of me.” She stared up into his face. His bulging eyes were a bit ridiculous, but he almost looked... cute. How sickening. Swiftly, Wednesday plucked the torn suit out of his clawed hand, inspecting it briefly. “Well, you won’t be wearing that again. Did your transformation take you by surprise?”

He nodded, grunting and waving his hands around, almost hitting her in the face.

“Be careful,” she chastised him, and he curled his claws against his chest, whining pitifully.

“Clearly you’re not used to the size of your hands in this form. Is this the first time you shifted?”

He nodded.

“Can you change back?”

Tyler’s shrug was accompanied by a forlorn whine. She could tell he was starting to get agitated again.

“Calm down. I am sure this won’t last too long.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe it’s your heightened emotions that made you shift into this form. So all you need to do is calm down.”

The look he gave her clearly said “No Shit, Sherlock!”

She rolled her eyes. “Clearly you need a distraction.” She sat down on the grass, padding the space next to her, and once Tyler joined her, she told him about some of the antics her favorite uncle, Fester, had gotten up to.

After a while, the sound of bones breaking and shifting, accompanied by pained groans, announced Tyler’s change back into human form. She watched, fascinated, as skin, bones, and flesh changed shape and color, until the 9-year old son of the Sheriff sat next to her, knees drawn up to his chest.

“Thank you,” he breathed, then looked down at himself, cheeks flaming red at his nudity. “What do we do?”

Wednesday ended up lending her coat to Tyler. Thanks to her preference for loose and long outer layers, it was only a little tight in the shoulders and covered him to mid thigh. Even though objectively he looked a little ridiculous, the sight quite pleased her.

On the way back to his house, Wednesday quizzed Tyler on what type of outcast he was, since she had never seen anything like him, but he had no answers, which was curious. Hopefully his father would know more, or her parents. Before they entered the house, Tyler gripped her hand tightly, clearly seeking reassurance. She didn’t shake him off.

When Sheriff Galpin saw his son, he jumped up from his seat. “Tyler! What happened?” He turned to Wednesday. “What did you do to him?”

“Dad, she didn’t do anything,” Tyler said softly. “I...” he looked helplessly at Wednesday.

“I found him in a clearing, having transformed into a monster. Once I managed to calm him down, he changed back. His suit got shredded in the process, so I lent him my coat to preserve his modesty.”

The Sheriff gaped at them for a few seconds, while her parents exchanged a knowing look where they were still seated on the sofa. Pugsley, sitting on their mother’s lap, was looking at Tyler with renewed interest.

“And he... he didn’t attack you?” the Sheriff finally said.

She scoffed. “Of course not. Tyler is perfectly harmless. What is he? His mother was an outcast, obviously, but my parents never mentioned what kind.”

“Maybe we should all sit down to explain everything to the children,” her mother spoke up, “Don’t you agree, Donovan?”

The man ran a hand down his face and sighed resignedly, shoulders drooping as he nodded.

Once Tyler had followed his father upstairs for a change of clothes—after being reassured that Wednesday would be waiting for him—he sat with her on the remaining armchair, his hand again clasping hers like a lifeline.

The adults explained that Tyler’s mother had been a Hyde, a rare species of outcast feared by many and prone to being exploited by malevolent people, so they had kept it quiet. His parents had planned to talk to Tyler soon about his probable outcast status, but thought they still had time because typically, Hydes didn’t show signs of awakening until their teenage years.

Morticia suggested it was most likely the trauma of losing his mother that had caused this early awakening in Tyler. As the adults got sidetracked into a discussion of what this would mean for Tyler, the boy’s head sunk heavily onto Wednesday’s shoulder and she, too, felt uncharacteristically sleepy all of a sudden. She felt herself being lifted into her father’s familiar arms, then carried up the stairs, where she was laid down on an unfamiliar bed next to Tyler. As she rolled onto her side to face her monster-boy, she heard fragments of sentences in the hushed voices of their fathers as they retreated: “never would have thought” and “already bonded” and “figure this out” and “not tear them apart”. She’d think about what it all meant later.

Wednesday smiled softly, the peaceful hum of Tyler’s mind at the back of her own luring her to sleep.

#weyler writing week #weylerwritingweek #day 5: the crypt/the woods #weyler fic #wyler fic #wednesday x tyler #no beta we die like rowan #kid fic #different first meeting

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owlmoonboi · 2 months

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Daisy

Chapter One: The arrival

Daisy sat on the train, nervously pinching her arm, her brown hair tinged with red in the sunlight. Her neatly braided hair was matched with a tight, dark blue dress that made her feel constricted. Across from her, a woman comforted a crying baby whose face was red and glistening with tears. “Shh…shh it’ll be ok darling.” The woman whispered sweetly as though it was a lullaby. The scene tugged at Daisy’s heart strings as small tears rolled down her face. She could feel a memory coming. Her memories come and go like the sun rises each morning. It was undeniable and true. Her past clung onto her tight like a looming shadow.

She was in a small room which had white walls and grey carpet. Cradling a baby in her arms she paced up and down. Her feet were tired. She was small, lucky to be six at the oldest. There was a sixteen year old girl slapping a girl about the age of thirteen until she bled. The younger girl was crying as another girl who was around fifteen pulled her curly blonde hair. Tears drenching her face. Daisy tugged the baby tighter with fear. The caretaker Mrs Higgins was in her room with a man and she had warned them earlier “If anyone comes knocking at my door I’ll come at you with the wooden spoon.” Mrs Higgins brought men over a lot and was often drunk. Whenever a man came over she’d say ”I think I might be having twins.” Or the children would hear moans coming from the room.

At just twelve, Daisy had already faced more than her fair share of hardships. Her parents, Andrew and Anna, had passed away before she even reached her first birthday. Andrew died in an accident while constructing the town bridge. Her mother, Anna, followed, succumbing to the measles. With both parents gone, Daisy's life seemed to disintegrate.

On top of her parents' tragic deaths, both sets of her grandparents had passed away before she was born. Daisy's only hope after her parents' passing was her aunt, Lily, but fate didn't allow their reunion.

Lily, Daisy's sole living relative, had herself been pulled into the chaos of war. She worked as a nurse and had left Daisy to serve the country in times of need. However, upon her return, Lily found Daisy in an orphanage, but lost track of her whereabouts as she sought to care for her. Tragically, Daisy had been moved between different orphanages, and Lily couldn't trace her down. Lily's wartime experiences, the haunting sights of men succumbing to their injuries despite her efforts, left a lasting mark on her. It plagued her every sleep, acting out her nightmares, and Lily was later institutionalized in an asylum.

This torment lingered in Lily's heart, manifesting in the form of nightmares that she couldn't contain. The guilt for leaving Daisy when she needed someone the most tore Lily apart. She was devastated at her inability to help those she watched die and those she couldn't nurse back to health. The realization that she couldn't rescue Daisy in her most vulnerable moment had haunted Lily and continued to haunt her in her own shattered state. The pain eventually became too much for Lily leading her to jump from the roof of the asylum as an escape from the harsh reality known as life.

Daisy carried the heartache of never really knowing Lily, the aunt who was her last, fragile link to her family. Lily was a nebulous figure in Daisy's life, someone she encountered sporadically, yet whose presence had a remarkable impact on her childhood. Their few interactions were fleeting moments, but ones filled with tenderness and a fragile sense of connection that Daisy held onto dearly.

The limited time they spent together felt like a brief flicker of warmth in an otherwise chilly existence. Daisy held onto the pieces of those moments—vague snippets of stories, fleeting smiles, and hushed conversations. Lily's voice was an echo in Daisy's memories, a soft, comforting whisper in a world otherwise cold and unfriendly. However, these memories were fleeting and never truly formed a complete image of who Lily was.

These scant recollections left Daisy in a peculiar state. She wished for more—more memories, more conversations, and more time. The void in her heart deepened as she yearned for the presence of a guardian she never truly knew. Lily was a puzzle with missing pieces, a mystery that haunted Daisy's lonely existence in the orphanage.

As Daisy moved from one place to another, the longing to know Lily, to feel the connection they might have had, grew stronger. Each time she entered a new home, her heart ached for the stories she never heard, the guidance she never received, and the love she never fully experienced from the aunt who had fought her own battles and ultimately succumbed to them.

This yearning for a deeper connection with Lily added to Daisy's sense of displacement. Her only anchor to her past was a series of fragmented memories, and a desperate yearning to understand the person she could never truly know. When she was seven she attended the funeral for her Aunt Lily dressed in a black dress and placing a rose at her tombstone.

In her turbulent journey from orphanage to orphanage, Daisy's life was a series of disrupted routines and shattered hopes. Ten different orphanages in just as many years painted a bleak picture of instability and perpetual transition. Each place was a transient and often unfriendly environment where she never had the chance to lay roots or find the stability she desperately needed.

The orphanages were places of despair, not of refuge. Daisy, shifting from one to another, found herself the target of maltreatment, always the scapegoat for the other children's frustration and anger. The older girls found pleasure in exerting their power over her, their pranks, often cruel, became her nightmares. Daisy, vulnerable and defenseless, was a convenient victim in their pursuit of a sense of power.

She was assigned chores that weren't appropriate for her age, forced into a life of responsibility that robbed her of her childhood. Cleaning at the age of three and tending to babies at the mere age of five created a burden far beyond what a child her age should carry.

The caretakers were no saviors either. Most were inebriated most of the time, bringing strange men home and leaving Daisy in an environment she couldn't comprehend. The careless brutality she faced was more evident during the caretakers' drunken escapades. "Making a baby tonight," they'd slur, the lewd and suggestive remarks tinged with an underlying cruelty that pierced Daisy's innocence.

As if her life weren't tumultuous enough, Daisy was later sent to an asylum. It wasn't because she needed mental health treatment; it was simply due to the lack of space in the orphanages. There were many other children there as well. Some who seeked help while others were there for the same reason as Daisy. The asylum was a realm of sheer horror, its walls echoing with tormented screams that reverberated into the silent nights. People would shout at the top of their lungs, their terror and nightmares transforming the place into an abyss of fear and despair. There were adults who ran around chasing each other with knives, many people who committed suicide and there was even babies who were addicted to drugs.

The other children's cruelty seemed to know no bounds. Daisy endured frightening assaults, such as being shoved near the fireplace or pushed down the stairs. If she wasn’t able to get up quick enough from the ground they’d kick her. The laughter that followed her distress at their hands haunted her dreams forming nightmares. Babies would cry ceaselessly, and nights were laced with maniacal screams or incomprehensible ramblings. Some, perhaps haunted by their traumas or haunted by imagined phantoms, would scream and gesticulate as if trapped in the clutches of their worst nightmares.

It was in this grim place that Daisy's fragile hope, already teetering on the brink, flickered and began to dim. It was a world away from the care and comfort a child her age should have experienced. Her hope was fire and the terrors she faced was rain. Fire can’t last with water.

“Are you alright darling? You seemed to be in a daze.” The woman sitting across from her asked. Daisy, too nervous to speak, nodded. Her whole life she had been told “Children are to be seen not heard.” Daisy found herself boarding a train, unsure of where the journey would lead her. She carried her essentials in a bag slung over her shoulder and, due to the limited funds, didn’t have the chance to purchase any food during the trip. With just her clothing and a series of heavy memories, she disembarked into the unknown.

She hopped off the train wandering through a crowd of bustling people. Men in suits with briefcases and women with their children. Daisy often felt jealous of children she saw with parents. She always felt a sense of longing for love. At the station, she noticed a weathered man with a white beard holding a piece of paper which said “Orphan” on it, “Who on Earth could that be for?” Daisy thought to herself as she stood still weary of the man. “What are you doing just standing there girly. If you’re an orphan, come on over.” The man grumbled. “Yes sorry sir.” Daisy mustered trying not to sound nervous. “I’m Grant Johnson. You’ll be living with me and my wife Martha.” He said breathly. She followed him to a cart which had a silver horse with a black mane and tail and a horse with a caramel coat that had a brown mane and coat. “What are their names?” Daisy asked shyly. “The silver one is named Mune and the caramel is named Toffee.” He responded with a smile. Mr Johnson is fond of animals. He likes to believe that a dog is man’s best friend even though he doesn’t own a dog. Mr Johnson was responsible for escorting her to the place that was to be her new home. As they traversed on a horse-drawn cart, Daisy tried to remain hopeful about the new chapter in her life. As Daisy looked at the tall trees and small shops with colourful window displays she began to imagine she was a lost princess being taken to the castle. When they arrived at their destination, she discovered that reality did not match the idyllic images she had conjured.

The farm was far from the welcoming scene she had hoped for, with mud-soaked grounds and a slightly dilapidated cottage. Yet, it was in this unforeseen setting that Daisy’s life was poised for an unexpected change.

“Who's she? What is she doing here? I asked for a boy. Why didn't you bring a boy, Grant?" Martha sternly questioned. "I'm sorry, Martha, but she was the only orphan there," Grant sighed. "I want her gone this instant. Send her back so we can get a boy. We need a boy to help you with the chores on the farm as your arthritis is worsening," Martha demanded. "Alright, honey, I'll send her back tomorrow at dawn."

"Please don't send me back. I'll do whatever you want. I can do whatever a boy can do if you give me the chance," Daisy pleaded with tears in her eyes, getting to her knees, ready to beg. "Tell me your name and get up from the ground. I won't have it," Martha said abruptly.

"Daisy Smith," Daisy stammered as she got up, wiping mud off her dress. "Daisy, seeing as I am a fair woman, I will give you a trial over the course of a week, but like baseball, it's three strikes and you're out. Do you understand?" Mrs. Johnson said.

"Yes, I understand. Why thank you very much, Mrs. Johnson. You won't regret having me," Daisy cheered. "I very well hope so," she responded as they went inside to the dining room. A hot meal of beef, bread covered with beef fat, greens, and baked potatoes awaited them on the table, served onto white plates with a gold leaf pattern and a glass of milk.

“Would you care to say a prayer?” Martha asked Daisy as they sat at the redwood table, before they began to eat. “I’m sorry but I don’t know any prayers. We didn’t eat meals together. Let alone pray. We were lucky if we were given dinner.” Daisy muttered meekly with a loose strand of hair hanging over her face. “Well child we’ll have to teach you how to say a prayer tomorrow. Tonight you can just say amen. Grant will say the prayer.” Martha stated appalled at the idea of someone not being raised to act for god.

After dinner Daisy helped Martha with the dishes. Daisy always strangely enough felt pleasure when doing the dishes as it had always been one of the nicer tasks she was given. She was always able to escape into a world of her own where the strife and hardships she faced could not bother her. She liked to imagine herself with the mother and father she never got to know. In most of her imaginings she is sitting in front of a fire with her mother brushing her hair while her father reads a story. She likes to think one day she’ll look like her mother, not that she knows what she looked like. She imagines her mother as a woman with skin that could be confused with snow, hair that cascades over her shoulders like a waterfall, a warm smile and eyes that melt the heart.

Martha assisted Daisy in saying a prayer before she went to bed. Daisy had let her long locks loose. Her hair sat at her waist. She was wearing a long white nightgown that was made of satin. Satin is a material similar to silk but a more cost friendly fabric. “Goodnight Daisy. Sleep well. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.” Martha hummed softly leaving the door ajar as she left the room. Daisy flicked the lamp next to her on the bedside table before gently placing her head on a pillow stuffed with duck feathers. The pillow had been made last winter when Grant had to kill a duck since it had grown ill.

Daisy smiled as she shut her eyes and went to sleep since for the first time in her life she felt like she was at home.

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majorxmaggiexboy · 1 year

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One of Us is a Ghost

Sixteenth Century:

Goody Addams escapes from Joseph Crackstone. Across the sea, a Mr. Addams settles into matrimony. The union produces six children.

Early Nineteenth Century:

Miss Adamms becomes engaged to Mr. Bramblestoke. Two days before the wedding, she elopes with Mr. Herring. Mr. Bramblestoke becomes a poet after serving the shortest military career in recent history. Mrs. Herring becomes a mother. The little Herrings grow up and begin families of their own. The surname is discarded by the daughters upon their own marriages, and so the pattern repeats.

Early-Nineteenth Century:

Miss Goodfellow and Mr. William Jopson are wed. The move into a modest but comfortable lodging on Gee Street. Mr. Jopson is a tailor. Sarah grows flowers in little boxes along the windowsills. She is happier than she’s ever been.

Early Twenty-First Century: Wednesday Addams begins having psychic visions.

Wednesday is fifteen, and she is surprised.

Of the half-dozen visions she’s experienced up to this point, one-hundred percent of them have been glimpses of the future. Unless something drastic is coming, this appears to be the past.

Wednesday has always been a quick study. She’s getting used to the visions. She takes in her surroundings impassively.

Behind her, an alleyway that would make a gorgeous crimescene. She is situated directly inside its mouth. Were she to step backward, the shadows through there are so thick that her black attire would render her nearly invisible to a glance.

In front is less intriguing. A beaten cobbled street, sun glaring off it, lined with buildings like the ones to either side. Footsteps, accented voices at varying volumes.

A little further down, a child is bawling.

He’s clinging like saran wrap around the waist of a taller boy, wailing into his side while having his hair petted like a fractious kitten. Pugsley would know better.

The taller one is in earnest conversation with a woman even as he consoles the little geyser currently soaking his waistcoat. The woman’s right hand is tied in front of her with bandages. The woman’s face is pinched, but she smiles at something the boy says. There are affectionate gestures, soft as a forgotten tomato left to liquify in the back of a refrigerator. Wednesday shudders.

Taller One turns, looks toward the alley.

A locker rattles shut beside her. Mykynzy Fletcher and her clique of assorted stereotypes are staring. Wednesday stares back until they disband.

***

Wednesday hears a string break as the vision snatches her away. Clearly, timing means nothing to the powers of psychic torment.

It takes a moment to orient herself. The past again. The deck of a ship, crouched between crates and barrels.

She recognizes The Taller Boy eventually. It’s been about three weeks since she saw the marshmallows-and-gummi-bears family and none of them were particularly memorable.

Nodding vigorously along with instructions being relayed by an older sailor, Tall can’t be much older than Wednesday herself, she decides. He looks like a brand-new retail clerk, new enough to still greet every customer with a smile and try to make smalltalk. Not yet broken into the kind of employee maintaining soulless eye contact while single-bagging the loaf of bread with the gallon of milk.

As the older man walks away, Taller’s smile follows. And then drops like a corpse over a wall. He keeps looking back toward the harbor. Already regretting his life choices, no doubt.

Then his face goes impressively neutral and he’s scurrying past Wednesday’s vantage point.

Even with the broken string, she finishes her concerto with only a few missed beats.

***

Taller’s name is Jopson, and if an amputation is necessary, odds are he won’t live long enough to put the bread and milk in the same flimsy plastic bag.

Technically, he’s already dead anyway. Unless he survives this ordeal and then discovers the secret of immortality.

She’s crept as close as she can while staying out of sight. Unclear whether it’s necessary to do so, but watching from shadows is an instinct. Taller is up on the surgeon’s table, half-propped on his elbows and taking it all respectably. He’s shaking like an irate chihuahua and looks like he’ll pass out if he so much as glimpses the mess of his right leg, but surprisingly coherent.

Why he won’t look at the wound is a mystery. It’s quite ravishing. The flashes of lightning from the storm still raging outside are a particularly nice touch.

The surgeon declares that no amputation will be necessary.

Wednesday’s shoulders slump just as Taller goes practically limp. For a moment, she thinks he’s just died. But he’s back up in a minute, gazing up at an older man the same way cats look at Christmas trees. No one should look at their boss that way.

The man mutters something chintzy about scars and stories to tell.

Whatever’s in the bottle Taller is handed will knock him out flat within the hour, but he’s only distractable during the cleaning and sewing, with very little mewling about it. Instead he’s chattering sluggishly- increasingly so -with the older man and the physician. He’s also beginning to goggle at things as though seeing them for the first time.

The doctor has nearly finished. Wednesday could do better, even with the questionable lighting, but it’s decent work.

Taller murmurs something that gets an incredulous chuckle and a “What did you say?” from the men. It’s a long moment before he answers, barely awake.

“Who is she?”

Ah. He can see her. The others exchange raised eyebrows and grins. They assume it’s the drug, and maybe it is.

He’s looking directly at her, but he can’t keep his eyes open.

Wednesday blinks at the book she was reading before the vision, adjusts the lamp by her chair, and resumes reading.

Taller does not appear in her visions again.

***

Until the week after Joseph Crackstone’s defeat.

#the terror amc #wednesday 2022 #*wearily* chapter 1/?#wednesday addams #thomas jopson #there's no reason for this to exist and yet #somehow....there is More #i have no excuse #except that i wrote this p much exclusively for Me #not really content with it but at least i did it #oh you know just wednesday being totally normal about somebody's backstory wound #look at me out here just bullshitting my way to literary freedom #i had tried to go to sleep last night #got up and down no less than four times like ''ACTUALLY LET ME WRITE THAT. NO NO IT'S RIDICULOUS. BUT ACTUALLY-''

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 years

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Now let's get ready for daisy's rant( that's me)

[ ] “So is the Parisian with the mustache,” he said. “And your many other suitors. Is that the plan then? You’re going to avoid all of them?”

No my dear the only person she is supposed to avoid is meatball bridgerton

[ ] She was almost glowing, a huge smile lighting up her face. Her eyes held a happy glimmer in them and she made her way to you, bouncing on her steps.

Girl was the meat really that good???

[ ] “I was exploring the house,” you said, letting her hug you from sideways before she pressed a kiss on your cheek. “How about you?”

Nah you were exploring the unexplored with your fiance

[ ] “Your maid missed a loop while she was lacing the front of your dress,” You pointed at the laces over the cleavage of her dress and she looked down at them, then cleared her throat.

Mr Elias since you so gracefully undressed the girl the least you could do is re-dress her properly .

[ ] “Why would you want to spend time with him?”

Since he is one of the only two men who have not made her cry herself to sleep, I think it is understandable that she would like to spend time with him

[ ] “Well apparently Elias got lost there multiple times so the Duke planted white roses leading to the heart of the maze and outside,” she said. “You would just follow the roses. Elias says there’s a fountain at the heart of it!”

Eli and meatball shared the same braincell as children

[ ] “Good afternoon Y/N,” she said and motioned at one of the maids carrying a tray of lemonade. “You weren’t going anywhere, were you?”

She was going to go and spend time with the parisian but go on ma'am

[ ] “I was very naïve when I first got here, and afterwards,” you managed to say before lifting your glances at her, “I’m proud to say I’m not anymore.”

The fact that she is convinced that she is naïve because of his actions angers me a lot, no you are not an idiot, it is he how is.

[ ] “An adequate life partner,” you said. “Someone I can build a life with and raise children with. I’ll be…I’ll be busy with my family after I get married and I’m planning not to drag it out, I’ll marry this season.”

He really transformed her into him, it is as if he is speaking not cherie

[ ] “I think I will always be in love with Viscount Bridgerton,” you admitted with a sad smile, making her pull back slightly. “But that makes no difference, unfortunately. My feelings cannot change the situation, or him.”

[ ] “If you’re in love with him, and seeing that he loves you—”

This... this here it is seeing that he loves you, yes people see that he loves her because of the way he is behaving, they are familiar with Viscount Bridgerton and now that his attitude has changed it is easy for them to tell he is in love. But what is important is for cherie to know that, and she is a very vocal person which means that she needs to hear him say I love you.

“He doesn’t.”

Again she believes that he does not love her because unlike her who told him about her feelings he has not uttered a word.

[ ]Lady Danbury tilted her head. “You believe he does not love you?” she repeated. “My dear girl are you blind?”

She isn't blind, and frankly she does not have to see his love, he has to tell her himself. Everyone keeps on telling her that he loves her thinking it would help but really it is doing nothing but confusing her because it is he who needs to speak, not his mother or lady Danbury.

[ ] “The worst mistake you could do in your life is to get married to someone when you’re in love with another,” she said. “Don’t do this. Your mother would’ve never wanted that sort of misery for you. Don’t…” she trailed off. “Y/N, don’t condemn him and yourself to that torment.”

The thing is cherie sees marrying Pierre as a new beginning, she has been honest with herself and Anthony I am also sure when the Knight does propose she would tell him about Anthony, everyone keeps telling her she is making a mistake which is true, but they fail to see that this mistake can be prevented by Anthony if he took the time to solve what ever problem he had with confessing his feelings and then told her he loved her she would not marry the Knight.

[ ] “I was hoping I could steal you for a walk?” he asked and you smiled at Lady Danbury.

Monsieur take her to Gretna green you have my blessing.

[ ] “Where’s your father?”

Is she going to speak with the duke, I remember you saying he would rather have cherie marry Anthony than Pierre

[ ] You kicked off the covers to get out of the bed and started pacing in your room, your heart still pounding in your ears. That image of Anthony and Siena separating from a kiss was still flashing in your eyes but you shook your head at yourself, then went to the window to open it, letting the fresh air fill into the room. You stayed there by the window, keeping your gaze on the scenery.

The fact that what happened at the opera still haunts her is very sad, Anthony's irrational behaviour messed her up to a point where she can't even have a peaceful night.

[ ] It took you some time to reach the heart of the maze because you kept getting distracted, but when you reached there, the view made you gasp. The marble statues of the maze looked almost mystical, luring you in while the sound of the water sent a calmness over you, making you let out a breath. You stepped closer to the fountain, staring at the statues before you recognized the center piece, and stepped back, a whisper leaving your lips.

"... Mom?"

I wonder if the statue was built before or after the divorce? .

[ ] You knew about the story. Cassandra was the beautiful princess of Troy, beautiful enough to get Apollo’s attention. Apollo wanted her and gave her the gift of prophecy but upon rejection, he twisted his gift so that no one would ever believe Cassandra.

Irony???

[ ] You shook your head, trying to shake off the thoughts as you approached the fountain to trail your hand in the water, but you were distracted when you heard footsteps. Your heart leaped to your throat as you turned around, but the panic disappear instantly when Anthony entered your sight.

The fact that she calmed down when she saw him says a lot, despite what he put her through she still feels safe in his presence.

[ ] He nodded slowly and your heartbeat got faster as your eyes fell upon his handsome face under the moonlight. He still had that stubble and it did nothing to hide his handsome features. Every single muscle in your body was urging you to go to him, to stop this torment as Lady Danbury had said but—

She misses him a lot and despite everything wishes to hug him and kiss him but her self control is very strong as it should be

[ ] He took a trembling breath. “I saw you promenading with Allard today,” he said. “Has he asked you yet?”

No but the audacity

Child he unlike he has been very clear of his intention and you have the audacity to question her. What a clown

[ ] “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

Exactly it is not any of his concern.

[ ] “Has he?” he asked again and you shrugged your shoulders.

I think because she told him that she loves him he feels entitled to know

[ ] “Not yet,” you said. “But he will. He keeps implying it. I just hope he waits until we get back to London because I don’t want to distract anyone from this wedding, it’s Cecily and Elias’s weekend—”

Cherie like the good sister and friends she is does not wish to avert attention from the wedding, and again she is proving what I said about Pierre being clear about courting her.

[ ] He cut you off as if he was in a haste. “Don’t marry him.”

This... this right here angered me, he is not trying to convince her not to marry he is telling her not to do it, again he feels that since she loves him she would listen to him.

[ ] “Marry me instead.”

🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

[ ] That was enough to make your head snap up and the sound of lightning echoed over the yard as the rain started to pour heavier than before, but all you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding in your ears. Disbelief took over you so suddenly that you were at a loss for words for a moment but you managed to repeat the words as if they weren’t stabbing you in the chest.

Poor girl thought that he would never propose

[ ] “Marry you instead.”

Don't

[ ] This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Exactly it is not, he did not tell her about his feelings, he did not even ask her he told her to marry him, it was not a WILL YOU MARRY ME it was a MARRY ME INSTEAD, it is as if he is making a deal.

[ ] “Why?”

This here is for the ones that said cherie was not listening to him, she asked him why?? This was his chance to speak about everything to apologise for what she heard in the library and for what she saw at the opera. Yet Viscount Bridgerton ruined it as always.

[ ] Even after he had broken your heart beyond repair, you still wanted his love, desperately. You were almost consumed by the need, and if he was in love with you the way you were in love with him…

See everything would be good if he just confessed, yes he has a reason not to and I am not dismissing that, all I am saying is that instead of running after her he could have focused on himself and resolved said problem first.

[ ] “Because I—”he trailed off and paused for a moment to swallow thickly, his eyes darting over your face as if he was searching for words.

[ ] “It’s the logical thing to do, for both of us.”

[ ] …Oh. Of course this proposal was based on logic, rather than emotions. It would be foolish to think Anthony would ever propose to you for love.

I have lost count of how many times this man has disappointed her.

[ ] “As my wife you will have access to my fortune and name, and everything that comes with it,” he said as your throat tightened. “I can provide better financial security for you than he can, and as a Viscountess you will have a permanent and influential standing in the ton.”

Now this was just humiliating, yes cherie is spoiled and privileged and if she marries the Knight she won't be able to live in the luxury that she is used to, but for him to say that he can provide her with fortune and influence when he of all people knows that the one thing she truly wants is love was utterly humiliating.

[ ] “And it’s clear that we already have a very strong desire for each other, so having heirs will not prove to be challenging. In fact I think it will be very easy, considering the undeniable attraction.”

Th desire that is between you isn't high libido it is love, she can not stop herself from asking you to kiss her because she loves you you imbecile.

[ ] Somehow, every single sentence that left his lips managed to make this whole disaster even worse and you gawked at him in complete silence, blinking a couple of times.

He really is digging himself a bigger grave the more he speaks.

[ ] “Not to mention, our children would have uncontested places in the ton and they would want for nothing,” he said after a pause. “It’s the perfect union.”

Does he know how to shut up??????????

[ ] He wanted you for the easiness of having heirs who would have uncontested places in the ton. That was the logic behind this so-called proposal. Not love, not an ounce of affections, not even remorse over how he had treated you all this time while you were in love with him.

Again she does not belive he has affections or love for her because he is actively choosing to destroy what little chance he has rather than confess.

[ ] You blinked back the tears and shook your head, then walked past him to follow the roses, making him rush after you.

Girl bravo to you I would break a bone or two of his .

[ ] “Shut up,” you gritted out, wiping at your eyes and turned the corner without sparing so much as a look at him but that didn’t discourage him from coming after you.

The only thing he is discouraged of is saying I love you

[ ] “I don’t understand—”

You of all people should understand Anthony after everything you should understand

[ ] “But I thought—”

No you did not think, no sane man would say what you did if they had thought before they spoke

[ ] “What?” your voice rose as you spun around to glare up at him, “What did you think, hm? That I would just stand there and accept this humiliation?”

She said what I said.

[ ] “Humiliation?” he repeated and you turned another corner, making your way through the maze as he rushed after you. “How am I humiliating you when I’m asking you to marry me?”

You did not ask her you idiot you said "MARRY ME"

[ ] “Oh is that what you’re doing?” you asked as you turned around to look at him better. “You’re asking me to marry you?”

If your propose to someone and they reply by " you are asking me to marry you" then there is a big chance you fucked up.

[ ] He looked almost exasperated. “Yes!”

You did not.

[ ] “Then my answer is no,” you said, making him pull back. “I reject your proposal.”

As she should, and as if one could call that a proposal.

[ ] He stared at you for a couple of seconds as if he was in shock.

“…What?”

No but he really thought that she would say yes after all the nonsense he said

[ ] “You don’t even see it, do you? You just,” you stopped yourself. “Forget it

See she rightfully expects him to see to know himself because she told him everything that is there.

[ ] “You told me yourself that you wanted—”

Exactly she told you everything herself, she clearly told you everything and this is why she is angry because you are supposed to know everything.

[ ] “Oh I’m dragging you into this game?” he repeated. “You’ve been announcing how you would only marry for love to anyone who’s listening ever since you arrived, you looked me in the eye and told me you loved me and now you reject my proposal but I’m the one playing games?.

I do not think he is playing games, he just does not know how to deal with his feelings because unlike cherie who was never discouraged of expressing her feelings, Anthony has never spoken about his. On the other side, he says that she has been announcing her intentions of a love marriage and that she confessed to loving him yet she rejects him. He fails to see that the love marriage she wishes for is supposed to be mutual, she wants her husband to love her and he either fails to see or he is turning a blind eye to the fact that he has not said I love you. That day when she cried infront oh him after speaking with his mother she asked him whether her husband would love her or not. And he assured her that he would yet homeboy is not confessing and that why she thinks he does not love her.

[ ] “I’m going to marry Pierre,” you repeated, your accent shifting as you raised your voice and he shook his head.

So she think that a man whom she does not love would make her happy.

[ ] “That’s exactly why I’m going to marry him!” you cried out as you wiped at your eyes. “God, you really don’t understand it, do you?”

She is yet again giving him a chance to speak, to explain himself yet he refuses.

[ ] “What?” he sounded nearly out of his mind at this point, like he had lost his grip on any control he had. “What don’t I understand?.

Its funny how he is losing his mind over something that he can so easily resolve, and please how is it that you do not understand when it is you of all people that knows her best?

[ ] “I would rather marry him than you,” you said, making him pull back slightly.

If I was her I would have said I would rather hang myself in the middle of the street for the ton to see rather than marry you, but I guess cherie is more civil than me.

[ ] “No, I listened to you so how about for once you listen to me?” you cut him off. “How about for once you actually pay attention to what I have to say? I would rather marry him than you, because at least with him I know what to expect. But with you? If I married you? Every night I would go to sleep hoping that by some miracle you would wake up in love with me the next morning, and every morning I would find my hopes shattered. Again and again, every single day, Anthony.”

Again she is choosing someone she does not love because pierre as I said before has been very clear so she knows what is there for her, but if she marries Anthony the one whom she loves she won't be able to live peacefully because everyday would end with the relization that he is not in love with her.

[ ] “It might be marriage for you,” you managed to say. “But for me, it would be a lifelong torment. That’s what you offer me. You offer me a life full of despair and I will not…I can’t condemn myself to that torture willingly. I already feel as if I am dying every time I look at you, and I do not even know what fault I’ve committed to be subjected to this.”

It is interesting how lady Danbury think that if she marries someone else she would be tormented( it is because she unlike cherie knows about his feelings) yet cherie think that it is Anthony who would torment her. Also the fact that she thinks she had done a mistake and that he is punishing her when it is him who has been messing up is sad.

[ ] “You’ve committed no fault—”

[ ] “Then why do you keep treating me this way?” your voice cracked before you let out a teary chuckle.

Yet again she is giving him a chance what a generous lady

[ ] “You treated me like a shameful secret,” you told him as he shook his head fervently but you didn’t let him talk. “You didn’t court me, you didn’t give me any promises, you didn’t tell anyone about me and now what? I’ve been finally found worthy of…” you trailed off and let out a painful chuckle. “This is too cruel, even for you.”

This is how I felt right after their kiss, she was a lady of the ton, the daughter of a duke and the sister of his best friend, yet he made more effort to be alone with her than to court her, heck he did not think of doing so until she locked herself in her house after the opera incident, no promises were made and the people who knew about them were the ones that figured it out themselves.

[ ] “I will not marry you,” you said through your teeth as you turned to look at him. “I would never marry you. You don’t have a heart, Anthony. Go find some other fool to make you feel like you have one.”

She thinks he sees her as a fool now, brave Anthony, she went from calling herself a siren to thinking she is an idiot

[ ] “What on earth are you two doing?”

Lord help us

[ ] You spun around to find Cecily by the staircase, holding a candle and staring at you. For a moment you became overly aware of how both you and Anthony were drenched and were standing there unchaperoned, in your nightgown clinging to your skin to make the situation even more scandalous but thankfully it was Cecily, and there was no way she would ever say anything to anyone.

I actually wished it was the duke, I wonder how he would have behaved seeing his daughter in this condition with Anthony? Would he show his anger? Would he tell him to marry her? Would they duel?

[ ] “Are you trying to end up married?” she asked. “If anyone saw you here like this…”

Nope she has been trying to stay away from him my dear.

[ ] Anthony’s chuckle was bitter.

[ ] “Don’t worry,” he rasped out. “She already said no.”

The audacity of this man is beyond astonishing, he has the nerve to be bitter now.

[ ] “Good night Cece,” you murmured, and climbed up the stairs, barely hearing Cecily telling Anthony to accompany her to the map room. If it were any other time, you would’ve realized just how strange it was but you could barely focus on anything other than your heartbreak. You wiped at your eyes as you entered your room and closed the door behind you, then leaned against it and slipped down.

At this point I have lost hope, how many people did he talk with, how many advice did he listen to, nothing is working and I doubt anything cece says would fix anything.

[ ] You sat on the floor completely quiet for a moment.

[ ] Then the sobs started.

Another night where she cries herself to sleep.

Now this is way to long but you can see I am angry, please share your opinions about my opinions

Omg omg I’m so excited for this, thank you! ❤❤❤

She was actually trying to avoid her, he’s the one who keeps going after her 😂

I think it was that good for Cece😂 She’s very happy 😂

exploring the unexplored LOLLL😂

Elias was very distracted while he was lacing up her gown 😂

That’s a good point! Pierre didn’t hurt Cherie at all! ❤

He really transformed her into him, it is as if he is speaking not Cherie YES! EXACTLY!

They both changed each other, and in Cherie’s case it’s actually heartbreaking

This to me is amazing; no matter how hurt she is she is not denying her feelings but choosing to live with them, deniying them would have caused her more pain. And she is being truthful and vocal about her feelings. That’s very unfamiliar to Anthony as well! Like, he didn’t see that coming, no one did❤ They were all under the impression that she would be going through her first heartbreak was messily but she’s actually going through it quite well😂

But what is important is for cherie to know that, and she is a very vocal person which means that she needs to hear him say I love you. Yesssss I don’t think she will believe him until he actually says it ❤

Omg you want him to take her to Gretna Green? Pierre? Not Anthony? 😂❤

Yep, Lady Danbury is going to speak with the duke about Pierre 😁 And how big of a mistake it would be 😁

She will be having that nightmare a lot 💔

Oh the Cassandra statue? That’s very intentional 😁

The fact that she calmed down when she saw him says a lot, despite what he put her through she still feels safe in his presence. Oh you noticed that detail, YES! ❤❤ She feels very safe with him❤

Cherie like the good sister and friends she is does not wish to avert attention from the wedding, UNLIKE ANTHONY😂

Exactly it is not, he did not tell her about his feelings, he did not even ask her he told her to marry him, it was not a WILL YOU MARRY ME it was a MARRY ME INSTEAD, it is as if he is making a deal. Oh yeah😈 He told her to marry him, not asked her 😈

Th desire that is between you isn't high libido it is love, THIS IS A GREAT POINT! ❤

Does he know how to shut up?????????? Unfortunately he does NOT 😂

No you did not think, no sane man would say what you did if they had thought before they spoke Lolll yes! 😂

No but he really thought that she would say yes after all the nonsense he said Oh he was almost sure about that😂😂

I do not think he is playing games, he just does not know how to deal with his feelings because unlike cherie who was never discouraged of expressing her feelings, Anthony has never spoken about his. Definitely! They both have very different backgrounds and personalities and experiences, so like, for Cherie it’s incredibly easy to talk about her feelings ❤ For Anthony however…💔

Its funny how he is losing his mind over something that he can so easily resolve, and please how is it that you do not understand when it is you of all people that knows her best? He just needed to say he loved her 💔

the fact that she thinks she had done a mistake and that he is punishing her when it is him who has been messing up is sad. She kind of blames herself deep down 💔

I actually wished it was the duke, I wonder how he would have behaved seeing his daughter in this condition with Anthony? Would he show his anger? Would he tell him to marry her? Would they duel? I think if the duke saw them like that, he would be torn 💔 But I think he would listen to Cherie’s wishes first, whether she wanted to marry Anthony or not 💔

The audacity of this man is beyond astonishing, he has the nerve to be bitter now. He’s so heartbroken😂

Thank you so much for this honey! 😱❤❤ This is amazing! ❤❤❤

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recentlyheardcom · 7 months

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HAGERSTOWN, Md. (AP) — Pedro Argote was conspicuously absent last Thursday when a Maryland judge granted his wife a divorce and sole custody of their four children, citing “shocking” testimony about the abuse that Argote allegedly inflicted upon them for years.But later that day, authorities say, Argote showed up at Judge Andrew Wilkinson’s home and shot him to death in his driveway. Now a wanted man, Argote remains at large amid a law enforcement search spanning several states.Wilkinson ruled against Argote after hearing testimony from his wife and an adult daughter, who said he controlled every aspect of their lives, keeping them isolated and subjecting them to various acts of violence in recent years.Police have pointed to the judge’s decision as a motive for the shooting, which sent a shock wave through Maryland’s legal community.An audio recording of the hearing didn’t capture any obvious warning signs that Argote posed a danger to anyone outside his family, but it does provide new insight into the abuse allegations he was facing.His adult daughter from a previous relationship said she spent most of her teenage years confined to her bedroom. She said Argote had cameras installed throughout the house and was “watching my every move.” During emotional testimony, she said he would beat her with a belt and other objects — “whatever he had close by.”“The reason I worked up the courage to testify was so that my siblings wouldn’t have to go through the mental torment that I currently have,” she told the court, explaining that she left home at 18 to escape the abuse and hadn’t had contact with her father since.Wilkinson concluded that Argote wasn’t fit to have custody of his four younger children, ages 12, 11, 5 and 3.“The manner in which Mr. Argote has isolated these children and mom over the past two years, I think that has gone on throughout the marriage, and it’s shocking,” the judge said. “I think he is abusive in multiple ways.”Argote’s wife described in detail how he rendered her powerless and mistreated their children. She wept while recounting how he would stuff a towel into their crying baby’s mouth. The conditions only worsened after he found out she planned to leave him last year, she said.Before she could get the paperwork together, Argote filed for divorce himself. Court records show a messy legal battle ensued and Argote’s abuse escalated, according to court testimony.Argote’s wife requested a protective order soon thereafter, saying Argote was carrying a gun and surveilling her. But they later settled on a “nesting arrangement” where he would live on the first floor of their house and she would live upstairs.Throughout their marriage, Argote handled the family’s finances and controlled their joint business ventures, including most recently a food truck and a digital advertising company. He also limited his wife’s access to their shared vehicle, according to court documents.In a March 2023 written opinion, Wilkinson said he had “the uneasy sense that Father engages in absolute control over Mother, their finances, and their lives.” The judge again referenced that statement Thursday, saying his prior assessment became “crystal clear” during recent testimony.Exhibits filed into the court record include photos of Argote smiling and posing with his children, riding bikes and swimming. In one photo, two of his children are sitting in their driveway next to a sidewalk chalk message that reads: “I love you Dad.”In an Oct. 11 email sent to his wife’s attorney, Argote said he had purchased her an SUV and left it outside her house. But the attorney told him to remove it and instead make available their shared vehicle.“You cannot force a vehicle upon my client,” the attorney wrote in an emailed response to Argote. “This is not a sensible solution. … You have failed to pay the mortgage, but have taken on another liability.”The recent divorce hearing lasted two days. During the first half, which took place Sept. 26, Argote represented himself.

He testified about the couple’s finances and repeatedly questioned whether his children were receiving adequate homeschooling instruction from their mother, claiming she was too lenient with them. During his testimony, Argote at times expressed frustration, but his voice remained calm and he often addressed the judge respectfully as “your honor.”But Argote failed to appear for the second half of the hearing last week. Instead, he called the courthouse saying he had a headache.“I’m not sure that I find that believable,” Wilkinson said, explaining his decision to proceed.Erika Garrott Johnson, the attorney representing Argote’s wife, said she believes Argote didn’t come to court because he didn’t want to hear his family’s emotional testimony “and because he knows the writing is on the wall.”An attorney representing the children, Ashley Wilburn, said she was concerned for their safety, “particularly in light of the fact that Mr. Argote did not show up today.”She urged the judge to resolve the case quickly in hopes of keeping the children safe, saying the best case scenario for them would likely be moving to Florida with their mom, who has a family support system there. Wilburn said even supervised access to their father would be “detrimental.”The judge ruled out visitation rights Thursday and barred Argote from contacting his children or visiting the family’s house.Wilkinson was shot in his driveway Thursday night while his wife and son were home. The circuit court judge was a longtime resident of Hagerstown and heavily involved in the community. The city of nearly 44,000 lies about 75 miles (120 kilometers) northwest of Baltimore in the largely rural panhandle of Maryland.Sheriff’s deputies found Argote's Mercedes SUV in a wooded area south of Hagerstown on Saturday, but concluded he wasn’t in the area. Officials with the U.S. Marshal Service said he has ties to other states, including New York and Florida.Argote’s wife and children are receiving protection as the search for him continues, according to Washington County Sheriff Brian Albert.___Kunzelman reported from Silver Spring, Maryland.

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goldenshoyo · 3 years

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Taste like Strawberries - DILF Daichi

Warnings: Fem!Reader, age gap (Reader is 22 and Daichi is mid to late 30s), daddy kink (obv), brat taming, finger sucking, spit kink sorta, dumbification, degradation, thigh riding, oral (m. receiving), rough sex, a little praise, alcohol consumption. (as always, let me know if you want something else tagged)

Word Count: 4.9k (honestly idk how it got so long hahaha sorry)

Author’s note: This is my contribution to @kaijime's dilf collab! Make sure you go check out the masterlist and read all the wonderful works on there as well! Also, I edited this at 2am; so sorry if it is a mess.

Can you pick Mei up for me? I have to work late.

You sigh looking down at the text from your sister, this is the third time in the last few weeks she’s sprung this on you. Despite knowing there’s nothing she can do about it, it’s irritating with her husband traveling and needing to work. The one good thing is the quality time you get funny spoiling your niece after school, getting her whatever junk food she wants that your sister never lets her have.

Texting her back that you will, you go back to studying. Your final year of college has been more stressful than you expected, work always piling up with your motivation lacking. No wonder so many students take an extra year. However, you were determined to finish now and not extend your torment any longer.

Glancing at your phone you see it’s nearing pick-up time at Mei’s school. You clean up the library table, shoving your laptop and notes into your bag, and leave. The drive isn’t long, her school is close to your apartment and sister’s house so you would have needed to take this route anyways. Pulling into a free spot near the school, you leave your bags in the car going out to meet her by the school’s front gate.

“Big sis!” Your niece squeals and you look up from your phone. She’s dragging another little girl behind her, pulling her your way. “This is Kaiya! She’s my best friend. She said it's okay I use her first name, so don’t scold me like momma does! I let her call me Mei too!”

You laugh listening to her babble on about her new friend. She’s coming up on her 6th birthday, and every day she is growing more and more into her own personality. “I wouldn’t scold you like your mother. You know that,” you bend at the knees, getting at their height.

“Hi Kaiya, I’m ----. It’s nice to meet you.” You shake her little hand and she smiles.

“You’re very pretty, like Mei.” She pulls her hand away and then her lip pouts. “I wish I had a big sister.”

“I can be your big sister too if you want. Mei, you don’t mind sharing me do you?”

“Only if you promise to get me ice cream.” Her eyes and nose squint and she laughs, her mischievous face has stayed the same since she was a toddler. It’s impossible to resist.

You stand up, rubbing her head and laughing. “Fine, we can stop by a shop on the way home.”

“Sorry,” a deep male voice comes from a few feet behind you. “I had a work thing... I’m sorry I’m a little late baby.”

You watch as a tall, broad man picks up Kaiya while she giggles and wraps her arms around his neck while squealing ‘daddy’. You smile politely when he looks at you. His face is handsome, features not too sharp or round; everything about it warm and inviting. He’s still dressed in his uniform, well besides the jacket. You assume he’s a part of the police force from the pants and belt he wears matched with a dark blue shirt that clings to his form.

“I hope she wasn’t bothering you,” he says while setting her down.

“Oh of course not. She was very polite and well behaved. You’ve raised a great daughter.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thank you. I’m Sawamura Daichi, and you are?” His smile is so cute, you think. It’s not forced or out of politeness, but instead genuine happiness.

“---- -----,” you tell him and shake his hand. He squeezes it once, and your stomach turns. What was that?

“Is Mei yours?” He tilts his head, eyes going between you and your niece. “I’ve never met her mother, only your husband. Kaiya talks non-stop about Mei when she’s home with me.”

“Oh, no-no. I’m her aunt. My sister works a lot, so I pick her up from time to time.” You laugh. “I go to the local college, so it’s close by. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Sawamura.” Trying to keep yourself from becoming too flustered, you look away. Watching as your niece digs through her backpack for some reason.

“Please, call me Daichi. It’s nice to-”

“Daddy, big sis is taking Mei to get ice cream!” Kaiya cuts him off. “Can we go too? Pretty please!” She kisses her father’s cheek, smiling brightly as he sets her back down. She holds tight to his hand, begging some more.

“If it’s okay with your dad, we don’t mind. Do we, Mei?”

She nods with a big smile. “Kaiya they have the BEST strawberry flavor.”

“Do you mind? I don’t want to impose on your time with Mei.” Daichi asks while still keeping an eye on the girls, who have wandered a few feet away while blabbering about ice cream flavors.

“Of course not. It’s good for young girls to spend time together.” He nods and thanks you. “There’s a spot close by. We could walk if you don’t mind.”

“Better wrangle the girls then,” he laughs, walking towards them both and getting their attention.

Taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh, you try and relax. It’s just ice cream for the girls… even if Kaiya’s hot dad is coming along. You’re sure he’s just trying to be nice and let his daughter have a nice time. However, it’s hard not to feel something when a man this hot and good with children is around.

The ice cream shop has a pretty outdoor area off the back of the shop, fenced in with a swing set and other children’s toys and playsets. No one else is visiting currently, so the girls have the playground to themselves, running around with ice cream dripping all over the ground when they forget they should be holding the cones up. Sitting quietly, spooning ice cream into your mouth, you try not to stare at Daichi too often.

“What are you studying?” He asks, breaking the silence that was threatening to become awkward.

“Oh, uh,” you swallow the cold cream. “Literature and classics.”

“Interesting. I bet you enjoy reading to your niece then,” he smiles at you before taking another spoonful of ice cream. You can’t help but watch his tongue dart around the spoon.

“Yeah.” You say quickly looking away. “Mei enjoys it, well, when she pays attention. Does Kaiya like stories?”

“Her mother says she always listens to her when she reads, but for me, it’s hard enough to get her to go to bed. I don’t think she’d ever stay still to let me read her a book.” He continues to talk about the weekends he gets with her, and you listen closely.

It’s stupid, you think. You shouldn’t feel this excited that he’s either divorced or at least no longer together with Kaiya’s mom. It’s selfish, but lucky in some ways. You don’t have to worry about a jealous wife coming after you because her husband paid for your ice cream.

“I’m not around for bedtime, so I can’t really relate.” You say softly and stick your tongue out lick the spoon clean. Stopping yourself from licking the ice cream off, deciding to explain more, “Mei never really stays the night anyway. She gets too worked up without her-”

The spoon is plucked from your hands and you frown looking at Daichi, who has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “What do you like to do at bedtime?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you stutter out something incoherent. Daichi’s tongue swipes up your spoon, and you watch carefully, longing to be that spoon as his tongue drags across it.

“Well?” He continues, then hands you back the spoon.

“I, uh, I don’t know.” You manage to stutter some words, even if it's not a real answer. “I uh-”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t need to answer now. Let me see your phone,” he asks holding out his hand and you hurry to hand it to him. He puts in his number then hands it back to you. “I’m not free on weekends unless I get a sitter. But, I’ll see you around.”

You sit, stunned by how quickly that turned from a polite playdate for your niece to potentially a playdate with Daichi. You bring your hands to your face, trying to compose yourself before waving at both Daichi and Kaiya as they leave.

“Big sis,” your niece wines. “Wanna go home.” She pulls you from the park bench and through the shop while you continue trying to collect your thoughts.

Did you really just pull a dad? There’s no way he was serious, right?

You texted him the night after you got ice cream, but he hadn’t responded. It wasn’t until late Sunday evening he sent back a short ‘you’re welcome’ after you thanked him for the ice cream. Your face burned and your stomach twisted with every flashback to watching his tongue slide across your spoon.

It was so unnecessary.

It was so hot.

Gathering up the courage to ask when you could see him again took another day and liquid encouragement. Maybe texting him while you were drunk wasn’t the best idea, but it did make sending him photos of yourself a lot easier. The ones you got in return nearly made you drool. Joining the police force ensured he never lost his perfect physique. Every inch of him looked like it had been handcrafted by the gods themself.

Slipping your fingers into your panties and toying with your desperate clit was all too fun when he called you late that night, not caring about his early morning shift or the classes you may have. His voice breathy and deep, yours whiny and high pitched when you came around your fingers begging him to come over and fuck you.

He only laughed, telling you to wait until he had a day off.

Sitting across from him at dinner should be fun. He keeps the conversation going and you always paid attention and politely answered. However, it becomes increasingly obvious that the burning between your thighs is becoming unbearable.

“Check please,” he tells the waiter, and you nearly squeal with excitement.

“Mind if I go get some fresh air while you settle the bill?” You ask, placing your hand over his; thumb drawing circles on the back of his hand.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He smiles at you and you walk out of the door, ignoring the way his eyes make you feel as you walk out the door.

Cool evening air hits you hard. Letting out another sigh, you laugh at yourself for acting this desperate in public. He must know. It’s not like you’ve been good at hiding it. You’re worse than a cat in heat, mewling for attention and a quick fix.

“Ready?” His voice startles you and you turn to face him. You nod and he extends his hand out for you. The walk to his car is short, and you’re grateful for the dim lighting in the parking garage once you slide into the passenger seat.

Unable to can’t wait any longer, you straddle his lap in his seat and he tilts his head, looking up at you in amusement. Kissing his neck, you run your hands down his chest and slowly grind against him. His firm hands hold your hips and you whimper, trying to convince him to give your body more attention.

“Daichi,” you whine against his neck. “Please, I need-”

You’re stopped as his hand takes control of your jaw, cheeks squished in his hand while he admires you above him. His gaze is intense, not a hint of a smile or enjoyment on his face, but the bulge in his pants hints otherwise. You frown looking down on him, irritated this is the most he’s touched you all night.

“I don’t like brats.” He says simply. “Impatient ones are even more annoying. Tell me, are you going to be an annoying brat?”

You try and shake your head no, barely getting it to move from side to side in his grip.

“Good,” he releases your face and you sigh. Rubbing your cheeks with your fingers you relent from trying the aggressive approach with him; seeing now he’s much less patient than you had expected. “Now can you wait until Daddy takes you home?”

You nod, a smile brimming on your lips while your stomach turns.

“I want to hear you say it.” His eyes somehow focus on you more, making your stomach twist once more.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.”

The rest of the drive is silent, his hand resting on your exposed thigh a little too close to the hem for comfort. It keeps your mind buzzing, every nerve lit aflame at the slightest bump in the road or motion of his fingers. His thumb occasionally draws circles on your sensitive skin, and the whimper that always leaves your lips feels embarrassing.

Are you really a whimpering mess already?

Everything about being with Daichi made you feel more intense like your body knew just how to react to everything he does and says. Was it the age difference and excitement? Or was it simply because he knew how to touch and speak to you?

“Sweetheart?” Daichi’s voice draws your attention and you look over to him. “We’re home now. Be a good girl for me, and go unlock the door.” He dangles the keys in front of you and you take them nodding.

“Yes sir,” you slip out of the car. Did you call him sir? At the moment it felt right, but now with your face burning and palms sweating you wonder if he thinks it’s ridiculous.

You unlock the door, pushing it open and standing awkwardly waiting for him to walk up the stairs to the front door. Why is he prolonging this? There was no reason for him to stay behind. Turning your head to look where he parked the car, you see he’s talking to a neighbor, laughing, and paying you no mind.

What’s his game here?

You huff, frustrated, and embarrassed with how desperate you’ve been acting and he seems to not have a care in the world. Stepping inside, you close the door and take your shoes off. He doesn’t mind you having access to his house with you unsupervised. After all, he did give you the keys to unlock the door.

His home looks comfortable and lived in, not overly clean but not messy per se. You sit on the couch, crossing your legs and laying your head back. While you know it’s rude to begin feeling this irritated, if something didn’t happen soon you were going to have to call for a ride and get home to a toy or even indulge in one of the sleazy dating apps you’re all too familiar with.

Pulling out your phone, you respond to a few notifications you garnered over dinner, nothing of real substance, but better than sitting in silence. A few friends have invited you to a bar not too far from your location, and you consider it, but the front door opening grabs your attention.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart.” He smiles at you and you lay your phone down on the cushion beside you, feeling like you’ve been caught texting in class. “I see you made yourself at home.”

“Oh, I-” you stand up, even more embarrassed.

Does he take pleasure in making you uncomfortable or are you just too on edge?

“Sit back down,” he laughs walking into the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”

“No thank you,” you answer quickly, sitting back down and laying your hands in your lap to fiddle with your fingers.

He comes back into the living room with his shirt unbuttoned a few, his chest peeking out, and a beer in his left hand. Sitting on the recliner adjacent to the couch, he motions for you with his pointer finger then pats his lap. Your body moves without thinking, straddling him with your knees sinking into the soft cushion of the recliner on either side of his hips. He grins watching your dress ride up your thighs before he takes a drink from his beer.

“Why are you acting so shy now? What happened to that confident little attitude?” He sets the beer down on the table between the couch and chair.

“Why are you toying with me?” You ask, furrowing your brow and tilting your head. “Just fuck me already.”

“There it is,” he chuckles. “You’re not as good of a girl as you think. You’re nothing more than a spoiled brat who needs put in her place. Lucky for you, I know just how to handle bratty girls like you.”

His thumb pulls on your bottom lip and you part them, letting his middle and index finger slip in and press against your tongue. You moan at first, grinding your cunt against his thigh before his fingers slip further in and make you gag. Closing your eyes you grind on him harder, the gagging only intensifying and your body lighting on fire.

“Pathetic,” he laughs while resting his cheek against his hand. Opening your eyes more you see he looks unamused, even as he shoves his fingers down your throat more. “Moaning like this over what? I’m barely touching you.”

You moan again, pressing your core harder on his thigh and whining. Your fingers dig into the arm of the recliner, steadying yourself while you ride his thigh. It feels too good to stop, the minute amount of pleasure intensified by Daichi’s fingers in your mouth.

“Maybe I was wrong,” his voice making you whine again. “Maybe you’re not a brat, just a dumb little slut desperate to cum.” Removing his fingers from your mouth, you take deep breaths, coughing and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“P-please,” you beg. “Please fuck me, daddy. Wanna feel you in me. I’ll be good, I swear.” You sound desperate, you know it and so does he.

“Do you think you deserve it?” He rubs the spit from his fingers onto your cheek while holding your jaw. He shakes your head back and forth slowly as a no for you. “That’s right. You don’t deserve daddy’s cock.”

“B-but-” you whine and grind against him. “Please!”

“Hmm,” he hums, releasing your jaw and licking his fingers clean before taking another sip from his beer. “Maybe if you earn it. I’m not in the mood to fuck an ungrateful whore.”

“Anything!” You nearly shout, eager to please him.

How you’re feeling is different than usual, the need to do whatever Daichi wants completely takes over your own desires. While the feeling is new, it’s something you want to continue to chase. Your head feeling lighter and body burning is all too good to give up now.

“Do I need to tell you what to do?” You nod. “Of course,” he chuckles, “silly of me to forget you’re nothing but a dumb brat. Get on your knees in front of me. Put that mouth to good use for once, won’t ya?”

“Yes daddy,” you say quietly, sliding onto the floor and tugging at his pants.

His belt is a struggle, and he makes no attempt to help you until you’re sliding his pants and boxers off and he lifts his body up just enough to get them down his thighs. Gripping his cock, your mind races wondering if you’ll even be able to fit his girth in your mouth as your fingers barely manage to wrap around him.

“If I finish this beer before you make me cum, I might not fuck you at all.” He says tapping your forehead with the cold glass bottle. “Do you understand?”

You nod again and he leans back into the recliner. Precum leaks from the tip and you wipe it up with your tongue, enjoying the taste as it floods your senses. As your tongue swirls around the head and your warm mouth takes him in, he moans.

It’s quiet and short-lived, but enough to encourage you to take more of him. He fills your mouth so quickly, but you’re determined to make him cum; unsure if it's because you’re desperate to be fucked or if you just really want to please him. Either way, you’re going to have him cumming in your mouth in minutes, you know you can.

You gag loudly when you force him into your throat, nearly taking him to the hilt. This time his moan is louder and longer, making you buzz with pride. Managing to keep him deep in your mouth you rub his balls with your shaky fingers while setting a steady pace bobbing your head up and down.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I guess that mouth is useful for something…” another moan breaks his last word but you don’t care.

The condescending praise just enough to make you hum against him with glee. He bucks his hips when you do, his fingers tangling in your hair and forcing you to choke on him again. You claw at his thighs, desperate to come up for air while you fight against him. He releases the tight hold and you take him out coughing as you stroke him with your hand.

You watch with a frown while he drinks on his beer again, watching carefully as the faint line of liquid lowers nearing the bottom of the bottle. You can do this, you tell yourself before taking a deep breath and taking him back in your mouth. Humming against him lightly while massaging his balls in your palm earns the same reaction, except you’re better at keeping a steady pace now.

“Shit,” he groans.

His cock twitches against your tongue and warm spurts of cum coat your mouth before you can swallow fast enough. He pulls you off his cock by your hair.

“Tongue,” he says and you stick it out timidly.

He spits on your tongue before pulling you to his face and kissing you, his tongue invading your mouth and making you gag at the taste of his beer. His kiss takes your breath away, literally struggling for air as he continues. You’re coughing and pulling away from him while a mix of spit and cum runs down your chin.

“I didn’t think you could do it,” he admits. “I’m surprised someone as desperate and stupid as you could make me cum that fast. I suppose I should reward you then, hmm?”

“Please daddy, please,” you beg. “Want your cock in me so bad.”

His hand slips under your dress and rubs against your soaking panties. “You really do want me, don't you baby?”

You nod.

His free hand gropes your breast, pinching your nipple through the thin material of your dress. You close your eyes biting your lip as you enjoy the not so soft touches he gives you. You moan when his fingers slip into your panties, sliding against your puffy clit.

“Daddy!” You squeal when his middle finger slides inside of you and curls. “Fuck, more please.”

He laughs, pulling his finger out and standing up. He sheds his clothes while you remain on your knees in front of him. You can’t help but admire how good he looks above you like this. Honestly, you think you’d do anything to remain in this moment even if the anticipation of him splitting you open is forcing you to clench around nothing.

Daichi offers you his hand and he assists you in standing to your feet, but it doesn’t last long. He bends you over the arm of his recliner in seconds, pulling your dress down and allowing your bare breasts to fall from it.

“Tell daddy what you want,” he teases while rubbing his cock between your folds.

“Want your cock!” You turn your head back to look at him. “Please, I need it.”

“Good fucking girl,” he groans while sliding inside of you.

Even with your intense arousal and the spit on his cock, it stings. Your body goes limp against the arm of the recliner as you try and relax your body to let him in. Crying into the cushion, you try to not be too loud while getting used to his size.

“If I’d known you’d be this tight, I would have fucked you sooner,” he says after fully sheathing himself inside of you.

He isn’t nice enough to give you more time, too overwhelmed with the way you squeeze him so nicely to not start thrusting immediately. You cry out when his cockhead hits deep inside of you, pulling against your walls as he pulls back out only to do it all over again.

It hurts. It feels ethereal.

“Daddy!” You whine as his fingers twirl your nipple between them and he holds you back against him while relentlessly pounding into you. “Too much!”

“Be a good girl,” he hisses. “I know you can take it.”

You whimper in response, his thrusts forcing your breasts into his hands while he continues to assault them. Your thighs begin to shake and your core feels like it’s a tightwire about to break.

“Wanna cum!” You tell him, some part of you knows it's better to warn him or ask instead of letting yourself go. “Please, daddy! Let me cum.”

“Aw, my little slut is learning,” he chuckles, thrusting deep into you and letting you fall back onto the recliner. “Go ahead, cum for daddy. Cream all over my cock sweetheart.”

He hits the sweet spot inside of you once more and you come undone, cumming around his cock and crying out a mixture of daddy and curses. He grunts as you clench around him, body pliable for him to hold you closer while rapidly fucking you.

He cums, and you feel it drip out of you around his cock before you comprehend what’s happened. You’re too fucked out to even care if you’re honest. He pulls your panties back to the side as he pulls out of you.

“You’re going to keep it all in, aren’t you?” He pulls his pants back on, leaving his shirt on the floor and sitting on the couch.

You nod, pulling your dress back over your breasts and adjusting the thin straps back to a comfortable position on your shoulders. He pats his lap again, and you sit across him, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your cheek against his shoulder.

A knock at the door startles you and you look at Daichi with a concerned face.

“Oh,” he laughs. “I lost track of time. Can you get that?”

You sheepishly nod. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I need to go grab something from my room. I’m sure you can handle it.” He disappears down the hall.

Running your hands through your hair to make sure you don’t look crazy, you open the door.

“Oh,” a sharp tone greets you.

“Big sis!!” Kaiya screams, jumping up and down and running inside.

Shit.

“Uh,” who you assume to be her mother says shaking her head. “Is Daichi here?” She’s irritated, and reasonably so. “I need to speak with him immediately.”

“Yeah, he’s right-”

“What do you want?” He appears back into the living room, pulling a loose shirt over his head as he comes in.

He easily could have done that before. Is he doing this on purpose?

Oh god, he is.

You look quickly between the two of them as he steps in the doorway with you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“I think we need to speak in private.” His ex tells him, eyeing you up and down.

“Sweetheart, do you care to take Kaiya to her room to play for a few minutes?” He kisses your forehead and you look away from the intense glare you receive from Kaiya’s mother.

“Daichi! Why are you-”

“Stop,” he says loudly. “---- can watch her for a moment.” He lets go of you.

“Can you show me your room Kaiya?” You ask sweetly and she takes your hand and guides you down the hall.

You’re not sure if you’re grateful Daichi got you away from his ex or if you’re happy Kaiya won’t have to see her parents bicker. Either way, it’s a win for you. Your heart is beating against your chest, making you nauseous. There’s no way he just forgot he was getting his daughter tonight.

You’re flattered that he used you to make her angry, but the more spiteful part of you wishes he had let you in on it a little more. Having you answer the door was good, but you could have left your hair a mess or something more…

“Big sis, why are you here? Did you and daddy have a playdate?” She asks, handing you a stuffed rabbit while you sit on the floor of her room with her.

“Uh,” you giggle. “Yeah, we had a playdate.”

#dilf collab!!#daichi sawamura #sawamura daichi x reader #sawamura daichi smut #daichi smut #dilf daichi #daddy daichi #hq smut #haikyu smut #haikyuu smut

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awakeshedreams · 3 years

Text

sugar and spice ( 1 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school's resident bad boy.... Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don't like don't read XD

wordcount : 2.3K

a/n : i've been fighting in a long standing war and I have lost. the man known as jeon jungkook had his foot on my neck for years and today, I have finally submitted to my fate and surrendered to his reign.

yes. after a hundred years, i'm writing again. specifically, writing for bts. particularly, writing for jungkook. its been a long time coming.

life just took over and I transitioned into an adult and kind of grew out of the state of mind I was in before. but. sigh. jeon jungkook has been tormenting me the whole time. it was only a matter of time before i relapsed honestly.

so here I am again. in mind, body and spirit, a different person from who I was before but still the same in the sense that with the way bts have my whole heart, jk will always be the demon in the corner of my room that I invite to bed for a cuddle even though it's (probably really) not good for me.

do not misconstrue. I love him more than I can say. but. sigh. he has me in a chokehold, loves. please try to understand where I'm coming from.

anyways, enough with this ranting. you all came here for the nitty gritty so let me not hold you hostage with my dilemma rambling any longer. here's to the first bts fic i've posted in literal years. introducing- sugar and spice.

1 2

Unless they told someone, no one would have been able to guess it.

At school they were complete strangers.

She was the nice head girl with a clean record, all smiles and straight A’s. He was the mysterious bad boy with a track record, all tatted up with bruised knuckles.

She wore plaid skirts with neat pleads in them and pastel sweaters with bows at the collar. He wore jeans with rips in them and leather jackets with studs.

They couldn't have been any more different.

As far as anyone was concerned, they existed on two extreme ends of a vast spectrum.

What they didn't know was that they shared a dirty little secret.

You were a girl with many dirty secrets.

For instance, you used to sell nudes online. It was a side hustle you did.

Not because you needed money.

Your mom was a renowned doctor so there was more than enough of that in your life.

Not because you needed validation from people online either.

Even without the constant compliments and the praises you knew you were visually blessed with a pretty face and a nice body too.

All things considered, you simply thought you had a nice pair of tits and you took pictures of them sometimes.

Posting the shots you snapped online came much later when you heard about this website where people were getting paid crazy money for posting racy things.

‘It’s just so degrading…’ It was one of your friends, June, who sneered, pretty nose scrunched up. She fixed her long ponytail and rolled her brown eyes while looking in the mirror at her locker. ‘Who would do such a thing, am I right?’

She said this, but June was the girl who has slept with more boys than she could count on her two hands. And those were the ones she told you about.

Like every other time, you said nothing. Even when it carried on to lunch with the rest.

‘Pretty desperate if you ask me.’ Mei the stellar track runner shrugged casually as she stretched her limbs like routine.

‘Where are their parents?’ Nina the library nerd shook her head in disapproval as she fixed her glasses so it sat right on the bridge of her nose.

‘Um… I don’t think it’s … appropriate… to talk about ….’ Kiko the one who always carried a cross and bible around mumbled into her sleeve.

All your friends spoke of it in derision and repulsion of course. This was a school for proper children so they were proper girls. At least they were supposed to be.

Regardless the conversation sparked a curiosity in you.

So you made an account and uploaded your first picture. Nothing bizarre. Just your tits in a pretty lace bra.

You made sure to keep your face out of the frame because that was the smart thing to do and you were nothing if not the smartest student in school.

In all honesty, you weren’t expecting anything out of it. In fact, in between work with student council and tutoring your juniors with finals right around the corner, you even forgot about it for an entire month.

It was by a complete whim that you decided to open the app while you’d been unwinding at your desk following a tedious day at school.

To say you were amused by the response you found waiting for you would have be a grave understatement.

You were staring at the four figure digit that now sat in your bank account.

Reading through the comment section was even more interesting.

There were all sorts of people there who had all sorts of things to say. Ranging from honestly sweet to downright dirty.

You had never been brought to tears laughing in her life before until then.

It was just so funny to see people misbehave and lose their minds over a pair of tits.

From then on it just sort of became a thing.

But that wasn't the worse of your secrets.

You were making a name for yourself on the crude web months later.

The next step was naturally to move from making taking pictures to making videos. Since you was already in too deep you didn’t see why not.

So you upgraded and opened another account. An amateur one where your touched yourself for an audience.

You were no prude.

You might have never been touched by a boy before but you had touched yourself plenty times. Stress and frustration came hand in hand with being head girl. Since you couldn’t quite vent it out at the annoying troublemakers at school, this was your second best option.

Third was watching porn, but that was mostly when you were extremely bored.

But that wasn’t where that little endeavor ended.

Later on it became a lot more risqué.

It all started when your mom hit you with a marriage announcement.

She met a guy on her business trip who she really liked and she was convinced he was the one.

Your mom had a tragic history of being a bad judge of character.

You’ve had this conversation at least five times since you became old enough to understand that boys and girls who were just friends didn’t kiss and sleep with each other.

Most times, it felt like she was doing it because she thought you needed a dad around.

You might have once, when you were younger and your mom was too busy with work to be there. But she worked from home these days and you were soo busy with school to worry about things like that.

This time it was like she was doing it for her. You were glad.

Your mom looked genuinely happy when she spoke about this guy.

Who were you to get in the way?

She spent almost the whole weekend in the kitchen. It was the longest you’ve seen her in there in your entire life.

She was excited for the dinner on Sunday.

Mr Jeon was the name of the chosen man.

He was coming over with his kid. A son, his only family. His wife passed away years ago.

You wore the dress your mom picked out for you, something cream in color and off the shoulders that brushed your knees. She looked pretty in her champagne dress. It was different from the office slacks and loose blouses you were used to seeing her in.

You stood by her at the door while the guests came through.

Lifting your head from a polite bow, you found herself staring straight into an achingly familiar pair of glinting dark eyes and went completely still.

‘Sweetie,' Your mother said sounding delighted, a soft hand on your stiff shoulder. 'This is Mr Jeon and his son Jungkook.’

Ah. Fuck.

‘Jeon dear, this is my daughter. Isn’t she lovely?’

Dinner was a mild affair, with small talk and the occasional clinking of cutlery on fine china.

From the outside looking in, you probably looked the picture perfect family already.

Only if no-one looked close enough.

Arms crossed, tongue in cheek. Your discomfort could be detected from miles away.

The two adults were oblivious.

The dark eyed boy with the slightest wave to his nape touching, brow grazing, ear covering onyx hair sat across you though; he took note of this with a passing glance and wordlessly returned to his food.

Jeon Jungkook had a countenance that betrayed his reputation.

Even though you’ve never talked, you knew plenty about him and you were sure he knew a lot about you too.

You went to the same school.

Dressed as he was in a crisp white dress shirt buttoned at the wrist and dark tailored pants with a fine belt on, it might have been hard to tell what kind of person he really was.

You lifted her gaze from your plate to look study him wordlessly, idly twisting the noodles with your fork.

People either called him the black sheep or the dark cloud but for you, Jeon Jungkook was the school’s resident lone wolf.

He smoked in the secluded areas on campus, sometimes playing his guitar. Beat up people who got on his nerves, sometimes using his guitar. Slept in class the rare times he was there, many times on his guitar.

Being his senior, you had never seen any of any of that for yourself. But you received plenty reports weekly to come to a sound conclusion.

There was no way people hated him enough to join hands in solidarity and make this all up.

It was quite the contrary actually. He had an alarming number of fans.

On the surface level you couldn’t see why. Most times you saw him, he looked bored out his mind and honestly, intimidating.

Maybe it was the tattoos. Or the ripped skinny jeans. Or the leather jackets with studs.

Maybe it was the domineering height and fit frame and structured face.

Maybe it was the intense dark eyes or the silky ruffled hair.

Even then, you failed to see the irresistible appeal in him. All those things that made him up only added to his unapproachable aura.

Bottom line was, he was bad news.

You didn’t want to be a spoil sport.

But how much of a thug your mom’s boyfriend’s son was shouldn’t be something that would make her like him less.

They were both their own people. Right ?

It was just that you just didn’t want her to be shocked and devastated if something happened later. When it happened.

Yet it seemed the serious conversation would have to wait.

After dinner your mom suggested you head to the living room to chat over wine and cheese.

You stayed back to do take out the dishes.

Earlier, your mom had stood to do it instead at first.

‘Don’t bother with that, dear.’ She reached for the plates in your hands. ‘Let me do it.’

‘It’s okay, mom.’ You smiled a little. ‘This is your night. I’ll meet you in the living room.’

'Sweetie...' Your mom looked close to tears. ‘But there’s so much of it…’

‘Jungkook,’ his father's voice had cut through the moment. He was a serious man in a crisp suit with a stoic countenance. His voice was just naturally authoritarian without him trying ‘Give her a hand.’

Jungkook stood, almost robotically.

‘It’s fine.’ You said. Politely. Nicely. Tightly. ‘I can handle this much.’

You left without another word.

That had been moments ago and now you were done with cleaning.

You stood at living room entrance for a while, taking in the scene.

The two adults were exchanging moon eyes and whispering in each other’s ears at the love seat.

Jungkook was sitting on a solo seat, but he was on his phone, completely unbothered by what was happening.

Your mom seemed to think it was the perfect time to pull out the photo album right then and there upon seeing you.

It was embarrassing but at least you knew you didn’t have to worry about the pictures spreading at school.

Jungkook was looking, picking up a picture occasionally to rove over, but he wasn’t the type to do that.

He also wasn’t the type to stare but you felt his glance shifting to you and lingering multiple times.

Once, you caught his eyes and he just stared at you across the coffee table wordlessly with a curious tilt to his head, idly flipping a picture of you dressed as a knight in glitter shining armor for Halloween at eight in his hands.

Honestly, it was starting to get annoying.

But you endured. For your mom’s sake.

Your alarm went off at exactly ten.

As subtly as you could, you excused yourself with an apology to the guests, saying you weren't really feeling well.

In hindsight you probably should have used a better excuse.

Your mom was notorious when it came to worrying, especially when it comes to your health.

Also, you probably should’ve locked the door before undressing just for good measure since people were over.

But in the moment, you were too busy setting your camera up where you were kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed to be concerned about that.

That day you were testing out a new toy.

Distractedly, you took note of a couple of people asking you if that was your boyfriend’s shirt you had lifted over your tits.

You ignored them.

Couldn’t a girl own an oversized tee without getting any flack?

Trivial comments like that aside, a good majority of the audience are fawning over how wet you were and how perfect you bouncing tits look being played with.

Your head fell back and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were sitting there, knees raised to your chest and legs splayed, your gushing pussy in full display where the toy was stuffed deep into her tightness, vibrating pleasantly.

‘I’m close…’ you mumbled throatily, squeezing your tits and pinching your stiff nipples in between your moving fingers. You moved your hips move faster, feeling the toy buzz against fluttering walls. You took a hand off one of your tits to rub at your engorged clit. ‘Fuckfuckfuck…’

Deep in your high, you didn’t hear the door open and close with a foreboding click.

You only heard your name being called by a deep, smooth voice through the heady haze.

Instantly you stilled.

When you snapped your head to look over her shoulder Jungkook was there, hands in his pockets, leaning against your doorframe with his sleeves drawn up to his elbows, muscle roped, inked skin on full display.

When he tilted his head to the side a little, appraisively, you dared to say as a quaking chill ran down your spine and your entire body felt like it was about to burst into flames, a bit of his hair fell over his face.

His eyes were like two black in the dark as he took you in, dragging his gaze up and down your exposed body languidly.

In the back of your mind, you wished the ground would part and swallow you whole.

‘Your mom,' he starts, capturing your attention wholly, dark gaze finally flickering to your face, his voice suddenly lower, hoarser. ‘She sent me over to check on you.’

It took you a moment to realize where you were, who you were, who he was.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped over your head.

Jeon Jungkook, the school's resident trouble maker, soon to be your step brother, just walked in on you fingering yourself in in front of a recording camera.

Well. Yeah.

You gulped.

You were royally fucked.

depending on the response I get I might ( most probably will ) delete this. not because I'm ashamed of my work. because I'm embarrassed of myself. I really swore to never write again and here I am. sigh. yes, I have seen my previous works and noticed just how terrible they were and this is a big reason why. so sorry for putting you through that. a million apologies.

also, that's right. I have adopted a new style which might not be to everyone's liking. another reason why.

anyways, if you liked this filth ( i know it seems mild but I can tell you it's very likely gonna get worse ) please idk uh... fuck this isn't ao3. hm.

like and drop by in the ask box if you liked it and want to see more. it makes me happy. its like serotonin fuel to me.

have a nice day. see you next time ( maybe ). stay fresh. yeah. 💜💜.

#bangtan #bts #bts angst #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts smut #bts au #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts high school au #jungkook high school au

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skiller0dani · 3 years

Text

Intoxicated | Klaus Hargreeves

M A S T E R L I S T TUA Masterlist

smut | teen!klaus x teen!reader requests info w.c | 8.9k summary | you fell in love with klaus when you were teenagers. but after he continues to relapse, you lose faith that he will get clean. when you see him again as an adult, has anything changed?

The first time you properly met Klaus you were both around 17, and he was slumped against the wall of an alleyway. His face was bare of facial hair, and he looked far too boyish for a needle to be still in his arm. You were only out looking for him as a favor to Allison, whom you’d known since you were both children. You never paid much attention to Klaus, or any of her other siblings but after hours of incessant begging you’d finally agreed to go look for him. You still remembered her frantic voice over the phone.

“Please? If my Dad notices Klaus is gone he’ll lock him up in the Mausoleum to dry him out.”

You might not care much for Klaus or his drug habit, but you couldn’t just let Mr. Hargreeves lock him up so that ghosts can torment him while he sobers up. You know Allison is just protecting him, but you can tell even she is starting to lose faith in Klaus. It’s honestly sort of heartbreaking. But hopefully if you get him back in time, maybe you can get him sober enough to fool Mr. Hargreeves into thinking Klaus finally cleaned up.

“Klaus!” You rush to him immediately, carefully pulling the needle out of his arm. You tuck it into your bag so that Grace can help you and Allison figure out what Klaus took. You trust that Grace wont tell Mr. Hargreeves, the only thing more powerful than the programming is her desire to protect her children. His eyes are barely open when he smiles at you, his pupils blown wide open. You brush his hair out of his face, his palm twitching in yours as you take his hand to pull him to stand.

“Can you stand?” You ask him, watching as his arm limply falls from your hand.

“You’re not really here, you’ve never even looked at me twice…” Klaus mumbles through a slack jaw. That’s when his eyes roll back.

“Klaus?” You gently slap his cheeks, trying to get his attention. You sigh deeply, worried when you see his eyes roll again behind closed eyelids. Is he seizing? His body jerks once before sliding further down the wall. You know you can’t leave him here, but you also know that you need Luther to come get Klaus, you can’t move him.

“Please don’t move, I’ll be right back.” You say hurriedly, cupping his cheeks to force him to look at you. Klaus grunts in what you can only hope is an acknowledgement that he heard you before you’re standing and sprinting for the Academy. By the time you’d reached your destination and had delivered your convincing argument to Luther, it’d been 45 minutes. You lead the way back to Klaus praying to God that he was exactly where you’d left him, but you doubt it. Sure enough, when you turned the corner into the alley, Klaus was nowhere to be seen.

“Shit!” You cursed, a panicked glint in your eyes as you helplessly turned to Luther.

“Please help me find him.” You plead, grasping desperately onto his arm. Luther has what you can only describe as a scowl on his face as he turns to you.

“I’m not doing this again.” He snapped.

“What do you mean?”

“Getting invested in Klaus’s recovery, I’m not doing it again. Letting myself believe that he could get clean only leads to more disappointment when he eventually uses again.” You can see layers of old scars in his eyes, reflections of all the times Klaus has relapsed and let his siblings down.

“Luther I get it, really I do. But right now Klaus is God knows where, and when Reginald realizes-” The mention of his father causes Luther to stiffen considerably. Deep down Luther knows that Klaus wouldn’t have substance abuse issues if he didn’t spend half his childhood locked in that damn Mausoleum being tormented by the dead.

“Let’s just find him quickly.” You nearly celebrate when Luther finally relents but you don’t, instead you immediately start searching the surrounding streets and alleys in search of your resident junkie. You doubt Klaus could go very far, he’d been in really bad shape when you saw him last. He could hardly sit up let alone walk, did he crawl?

“Found him!” You hear Luther call, and when you turn you see Luther standing with Klaus slung over his shoulder at the end of the alleyway. Klaus has the hint of a smile on his face as Luther hauls him back, and you’d almost say Klaus looks entertained. Although, it could be the hallucinations making him smile like that. By the time you’d arrived back at the Academy, the mysterious needle you’d taken from Klaus’s arm earlier had been thoroughly tested by Grace.

“It’s heroin.” Allison’s shaky voice came from the doorway of Klaus’s bedroom. You turned to look at her, watching as nothing but anger fills her eyes.

“He promised me that he’d never done any hard drugs, he promised it was just weed and painkillers! And he’s injecting heroin?” You can tell that she really is hurt, you can see the betrayal in her eyes before she’s turning out of his room.

“Allison-”

“No, I won’t watch him slowly kill himself. In 2 weeks when we finally turn 18 he’ll be gone anyway. Don’t forget to invite me to his funeral.” She snaps, wiping her eyes before slamming his door shut. It was then that you’d decided not to give up on him, because the second everyone lost faith in him was the second they signed his death certificate. Loving an addict is harder than you would think, but you were willing to be Klaus’s person, so long as he was dedicated to getting better. If Klaus gives up on himself, then there’s no point. So you sat on the edge of his bed and used a rag to wipe away dried vomit on his face and neck, plus you dabbed at a closing gash on his head which was still bleeding a little.

“Y/N?” You hear him mumble, and when you look up at him again you see his eyes have cracked open. You brush his hair off his forehead, and the look in his eyes has your entire body heating up. It’s not a particularly provocative look, more of a hungry curiosity. There was still gentleness there, and a sincerity beneath it all. All his siblings have given up on him at this point, and deep down you think Klaus knows that. They’ve reached the point that the next time Klaus goes missing, they won’t look for him or even worse- they won’t even realize he’s gone. The thought breaks your heart.

“Hi.” You can’t think of anything else to say. Klaus reaches one hand up to wind into your hair, a sly smile crossing onto his face.

“Can’t say I remember the last time we properly spent quality time together.” He raises one brow, his hazel eyes twinkling mischievously.

“That’s because we never have.”

“What a shame.” The smug smile on his face makes your cheeks heat up embarrassingly. You feel all mushy in his presence.

“You have to get clean before Reginald gets home tomorrow.”

“Oh wouldn’t want to disappoint daddy dearest.” You can practically taste the sarcasm in his tone, but still he keeps that damn smile stretched across his face.

“He’ll lock you away if he finds out, stop pretending like this isn’t a big deal.” You sigh, standing to find him clean clothes. Klaus pushes himself onto his elbows, his head is swimming. The nausea twisting his gut is hard to ignore, but watching you bend over in those tight jeans has him ignoring the discomfort. He wouldn’t miss the show for anything.

“Enjoying yourself?” You ask him once you notice him staring. You use snarky comments to hide how flushed you are, how flustered you are from the heat in his gaze.

“Enjoying the view.” Is all Klaus says, and you know he can see how red your cheeks are. You shake your head as you toss clean clothes at him, quickly diverting your eyes when he begins to undress with you still in the room.

“Jesus, warn me next time!” You squeak as you turn your eyes to the ground when he tosses his dirty pair of tight jeans at you along with his shirt. You hear the zipper of his tight black jeans pull up and that’s when you decide it’s safe to look. When you eye him again, he’s sitting up on the bed pulling his shirt on over his head.

“What’s the fun in that?” Despite his snarky comebacks and the smirk on his face, you can tell he doesn’t feel good at all. There are bags under his eyes and he winces every time he moves. You place a hand on his shoulder when he tries to stand, a look he can’t quite read on your face.

“I’m gonna make you something to eat, please don’t go anywhere.” The genuine fear in your eyes as you look down at him has Klaus rooted to the bed. Suddenly a fear of letting you down cripples him then, and he can only manage a nod before you’re leaving the room.

The first time you saw Klaus overdosing you had come home from work early. It was a few months since you and Luther found him in that alleyway, and he’d made no attempts to clean up. Of course you thought he was clean and attending meetings. Klaus knew you’d be heartbroken if you knew the truth, and he was borderline worried you’d kick him out if you knew he spent most of the day high. If he knew that you’d fallen head over heels for him, he wouldn’t be worried about being kicked out. Klaus was clean the first week he moved in with you, but then came the ghosts. Their voices echoing in his head, their bloodied and battered bodies plaguing his every waking moment. He had clamped his hands over his ears to try and block them out, and he actually endured the tortuous voices for 17 hours before he gave in and popped some oxy.

“Klaus I’m back-'' Before you could finish whatever you were saying you spotted him lying unconscious on the living room floor. You dropped a glass platter and everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. You immediately scrambled towards him as the glass shattered everywhere. Your hands cupped his cheeks as tears filled your eyes, and you could not stop shaking.

“K-Klaus?” You gasped, shaking his shoulders to no avail. His body was practically lifeless, and his skin was almost gray and colorless. You lifted his wrist to check his pulse, and nearly burst into tears of relief when you felt a pulse but it was fading fast.

“Damnit Klaus!” You sobbed to yourself, leaning down to see if he was breathing. You held your breath, and prayed you would hear his faint breath. When you didn’t, it felt like you had been plunged into cold water. The panic struck you deep in your chest and you quickly sat up to perform CPR. You tilted his head back as the tears flowed down your cheeks, and you quickly started compressions. You reached into your pocket to press the stupid little life alert button you’d purchased when Klaus moved in. In moments like this you knew you needed a quick way to call an ambulance. You listened for his breathing once more, and cried softly when you still didn’t hear any breathing.

“Klaus please, please.” You didn’t know what you were pleading for, but you were so desperate for him to be okay that you couldn’t think straight. You continued compressions and then breathing into his mouth for 10 minutes before the emergency services arrived. They nearly had to pry you off him before shoving a breathing tube down his throat, and injecting him with something in a syringe. You’d climbed into the ambulance next to Klaus, his hand held tightly in yours. He looked lifeless in the hospital room, his eyes were closed and there were tubes sticking out of him. The steady beeping from the monitor was your only clue that his heart was still beating. You called his siblings, but after 5 hours you figured they weren’t going to come, you doubt they’d even listen to the message. Underneath the fear there’s anger, so much anger. How could he do this to you? He lied to you. He said he was clean! Did he ever attend a meeting or was that just a lie to go get more weed and pills?

“Hey you.” You hear his raspy voice from beside you. Once he started breathing on his own again they replaced the breathing tube for oxygen in his nose. The doctors said they would need to keep him here until he completely detoxed. There are tears welling in your eyes and you refuse to meet his eyes, you’re upset and he knows that.

“Baby I’m sorry.” Klaus tries, his hand reaching out for yours. You keep your arms folded as a tear finally falls down your cheek. Klaus hates seeing you cry and he hates even more that he is the reason you’re crying. You weren’t entirely surprised to hear him call you baby, you and Klaus have gotten close during the time he’s been living with you.

“Please look at me.” Klaus begs, a break in his voice that lets you know he has tears in his eyes. You lifted your gaze to meet his, and you see how sick he looks. His skin is gray, his eyes are sunken in and they have bags under them.

“How could you? You lied to me.” Your voice is soft, broken. This is the first time Klaus has truly let you down and you can’t help but wonder if this is how his siblings have felt every time he’s let them down. You see guilt flash in his eyes, the look in your eyes is worse than any other look Klaus has received from his brothers and sisters.

“What if I didn’t get off work early? Then you’d be dead Klaus!” You sobbed, tears wracking your body.

“Baby I swear when I get out I’ll get it together. I-I’ll clean up I promise.” A stray tear falls down his cheek and Klaus quickly reaches up to wipe it away. His hands are trembling when they reach for yours again but you still don’t budge.

“No Klaus, you’re going into fucking rehab. I can’t live with the constant fear of coming home and finding you dead. I love you too much to lose you.” The last part slips out by accident, but you can’t take it back. Klaus’s eyes widen as another tear trails down his cheek, and this time he doesn’t wipe it away.

“You love me?” How could he not know? You laugh bitterly as tears continue to cascade down your cheeks.

“Yes I do, and if you give even half a damn about me you’ll check into rehab.” You beg, your watery eyes finding his. Klaus lays his head back, his own teary eyes looking up to the ceiling before they close and he takes a deep breath.

“I love you so fucking much, so I’ll do it. For you.” Klaus finally whispers, reaching for you one last time and this time, you take his hand.

“Please tell me you’re going to take this seriously. Please? I-I can’t lose you.” You beg a few days later once Klaus was finally cleared to leave the hospital, but he would be going right to rehab. The doctors had him sign a document agreeing to be taken straight to an intensive rehab program as soon as he was released from the hospital. Klaus in all honesty was a tad bit put off by the idea of going into rehab, and was downright terrified of having to deal with the voices. Luckily he had Ben with him to help keep him sane while he was in rehab. Klaus really does love you, and he really does want to give sobriety a shot- but only for you.

“I promise, I already said I was really going to try.” Klaus sighed, turning his gaze down to look at you.

“You have no idea what that was like for me Klaus. Coming home to your lifeless body, I-I thought you were fucking dead.” You snapped, looking away from him as tears build in your eyes again. You’re so sick of crying. You feel his fingers grasping your chin, turning your head to look at him.

“I’m not dead baby, I’m here. I’m gonna get clean, and I’m gonna stay clean. I promise.” Klaus whispered before pressing his lips against yours. What you didn’t know then was that Klaus would be making that promise a hundred more times, and he’d be breaking it a hundred times. Deep down he didn’t want to get clean, he didn’t care enough about himself to try. The dead were too overwhelming, too scary, too much. Klaus couldn’t handle it, he didn’t want to. What he wanted was to be completely numb. The kiss was watery, but you pressed against him with such ferocity you almost took him by surprise.

“Mr. Hargreeves? The van is here.” A nurse says, clearing her throat awkwardly from the door. Klaus breaks the kiss first, his forehead pressed against yours. You can’t stop the tears as they trail down your cheeks. You sling his bag over your shoulder as the two of you head outside together. You see a man in scrubs take Klaus’s bag as other patients from the hospital pile into the van.

“I’ll only be gone for 3 months. Be back in a flash.” Klaus smiles, but the mischievousness doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

“I love you.” You whisper as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you.” Is the last thing you hear him whisper before he’s climbing into the van.

Klaus’s sobriety didn’t last long after rehab. Sure he’d attended all the group therapy sessions, and the annual detox therapy, he saw his therapist and followed the steps. He’d gone through the entire agonizing process of detoxing from the drugs. He wanted to be better, but then the voices came once more. Wailing in his ear about how desperately they wished to be alive, all the horrible details of their death, all the people they left behind. Ben tried to talk Klaus through it, to help him embrace his powers rather than reject them. But when Klaus sat straight up in bed, your sleeping body next to him and a thousand desperate voices screaming in his head he couldn’t take anymore.

“Don’t do this.” Ben pleaded, although he sounded defeated more than desperate. But Klaus’s shaking hands were already reaching for the closest pair of pants, which happened to be one of your skirts. Klaus was way more than itching for a fix, he was downright clawing for one. His eyes were wild as he stood up slowly, careful not to wake you up.

“She trusts you Klaus.” Ben tries again, he’s begun resorting to guilt tripping to keep Klaus sober. For the last few days it’s seemed to work, but Ben doubts it’s going to work now. Klaus is too far gone. “That isn’t going to last forever, eventually she will give up on you.”

“Shut up.” Klaus hisses, pulling sneakers on before turning for the door of the apartment. Ben appears in the doorway of the staircase, and Klaus raises a brow.

“Save whatever speech you have planned, I need it now.” Klaus says desperately, walking down the stairs- through Ben.

“Screw you Klaus, you’re taking advantage of her!” Ben snaps, you may not know Ben is around but he’s gotten to know you. He cares about you, in a sisterly way, and he hates seeing Klaus take your love and throw it away.

“Shut the hell up Ben.” There is genuine anger in Klaus’s tone now, his fists clenched as he continued towards where his normal dealer hangs out. Ben doesn’t particularly like hurting Klaus, but dammit someone has to stop him from destroying his own life.

“If you really cared about Y/N, you’d turn around and go home. She’s still laying in bed, thinking you’re next to her. How amazing is it that she wants you to be next to her, and you don’t seem to care at all. If I was alive, I’d love her right.” Ben yells, and this causes Klaus to freeze.

“Like hell you could! Y/N only wants me.” Klaus insists, but Ben can see the insecurity swirling in his eyes.

“For how long? When she realizes you relapsed again she isn’t going to want anything to do with you. Or you could go home Klaus, and put her first for once.” Ben says, his voice calmer this time. Tears well in Klaus’s eyes, he loves you more than anything on this whole planet.

“I’m sorry, I need it.” Klaus whispers before turning down the alley to see his dealer. This time, Ben doesn’t follow him. He can’t watch Klaus overdose again, he can’t watch him throw you away for drugs.

The first time you have sex with Klaus, he was high. You don’t know that, and Klaus knows exactly how you’d react if you did. It was a month since Klaus had gotten out of rehab, and you believed it also signaled a month of sobriety for him. In reality, Klaus hadn’t even made it a week before he relapsed after rehab. You wanted to celebrate with him, to do something nice for him. Ben watched you light candles while Klaus took a “nap”. It made him sick to see you do so many nice things for Klaus, while Klaus was really shooting up in your shared bathroom. You’re out here setting up something nice to celebrate Klaus’s sobriety, and he’s injecting heroin into his veins. It truly does make Ben sick. You lit the last candle, and when you reached up to remove your robe and reveal your lingerie- Ben disappeared. He isn't a pervert, he knew where this was going.

“Klaus?” You called nervously, smoothing your babydoll lace as you sat on the bed. You knew you wanted this, you were just nervous. When he emerged from the bathroom, his eyes widened as they landed on your nearly exposed breasts. He’d never seen you so naked before. Klaus swallowed a thick lump in his throat, and suddenly everything felt hotter, and tighter.

“Hey.” Is all he can say before an easy smile makes its way across his face.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on 1 month of sobriety.” You say softly with a smile, and then all the happiness drains away. Klaus feels sick to his stomach as guilt nearly brings him to his knees. You believe in him, and he’s pissing it all away. He wished he was stronger, but he isn’t. Klaus is weak and he isn’t worth it, and soon you’re going to realize that.

“You didn’t have to do this.” Klaus whispers and you shrug with a nervous smile on your face.

“You don’t like it?” You ask, your eyes widening. You’re really putting yourself out there and you can only hope he likes this. Klaus takes a step forward, his hands landing on your hips.

“No baby I do! I love this.” Klaus reassures you, and you feel your cheeks heat up when you see his eyes go wandering down your body. HIs lips lower to yours then and you feel like you’re up in the clouds. Klaus feels his heart breaking with every tender movement, every gentle brush of your fingers through his hair. It’s all he can do but to grab you and press you against his body with a bruising force. The desperation in his movements is what catches you off guard, his hands are hauling your thighs up around his waist. Normally Klaus isn’t this assertive in the bedroom, but he needs to feel your skin against his. He needs to know you’re here with him, because soon you won’t be. He knows that.

It’s not long before you’re undressed and your legs are spread open for him, and Klaus has no idea what he ever did to deserve you. Deep down he knows he doesn’t, you deserve someone like Ben. Maybe that’s why what Ben said really struck a nerve, because deep down Klaus knows if Ben were alive- you’d choose him. You’d never choose Klaus if he were being compared to Ben. Klaus grasps his cock in his hand before guiding the head into your tight opening, and when he pushes into you- it feels like absolute heaven. But there’s only one thought on Klaus’s mind, I don’t deserve this.

The second time you see Klaus overdose, it’s the morning after the best night of your life. It’s the morning after you sleep with him, the morning after you feel truly connected to him like you’re one. You stretched with a yawn, a smile on your face as your hand reaches over to where Klaus is sleeping next to you. When your hand finds cold sheets your eyes blink open, he’s already awake?

“Klaus?” You call softly, waiting for a response. When you don’t get one you finally drag yourself out of bed, you enter the living room. Again no sign of Klaus whatsoever. Panic creeps into your chest then, he’s just out getting coffee or something to surprise you. You bite nervously at your nails before you turn back to your room to push into the bathroom. The sight before you draws a gasp from you. Klaus is slumped against the wall, his arm still on the toilet with the tourniquet around his arm. The needle is on the lid of the toilet next to his arm, and you immediately rush towards him.

“What have you done?” You whisper desperately, reaching for the life alert you have in the bathroom. You have one in every room in your apartment, which at the time felt like overkill but now looking back on it you’re happy you did. You pull Klaus to lay on his back, yanking the tourniquet off his arm. You try to feel for a pulse, and much to your horror you don’t feel a pulse. You frantically press your ear to his chest, his heart isn’t beating.

“Oh my God Klaus!” You nearly scream in horror, balling your fist up and slamming it down on his chest as hard as you can. You continue to do this, tears cascading down your cheeks. He’s dead, his heart isn’t beating.

“Klaus, why? You said you were sober!” You scream in pure emotional agony. You hardly notice when the paramedics arrive until they pull you away from him.

“H-his heart isn’t beating. Please help him.” You beg as they rush him out of the apartment, but this time...you don’t go with him. You’ve finally reached the point all of Klaus’s siblings reached, the point where you just can’t take being let down anymore. You believe in him, you feel hopeful. Then you feel lower than low when you realize he relapsed again, you can’t do this anymore. You can’t take the let down anymore.

It’s a few days before you go see Klaus in the hospital, and you know what you have to do but you’re not sure you have the strength to do it. Klaus is sitting in bed, eating chocolate pudding, and this time he looks worse than last time. He glances up at you when you come in, and he has to do a double take.

“Baby-”

“Please don’t. I don’t want to hear your excuses, or your promises to get clean.” You interrupt, and it’s only just now that he notices a suitcase in your hand. There are tears endlessly falling down your cheeks, and inside you feel completely dead. Klaus knows what the suitcase is for, he knows that you’ve lost faith in him. Just like Ben predicted you would, but despite the fact that this is all Klaus’s fault...Ben still sits nearby with a look of sadness upon his face.

“What’s the suitcase for?” Klaus brings himself to ask the dreaded question even though he already knows the answer. You swallow a lump before depositing the suitcase on a chair at the end of his bed.

“That’s all your stuff. D-Don’t come back to my apartment. Don’t call. I can’t be with you like this.” You cry, watching as the broken look on your face crosses onto Klaus’s.

“Baby please don’t do this. Just give me another chance, I’ll stay clean this time-” But you’re already shaking your head, taking slow steps back towards the door.

“We’re over Klaus. I’m done. I can’t be terrified of finding your dead body, I can’t wonder where you are at night or where you’re going when you sneak out. I can’t live like this anymore, I don’t want to live like this.” You sob, your shoulders shaking as you cry softly.

“Please don’t give up on me, not you.” Klaus pleads, and the look in his eyes nearly makes you change your mind, But then you remember where he is, that he did this to himself. You shake your head.

“You’ve given me no choice Klaus! I can’t take it anymore, I can’t handle anymore heartbreak.” You snap, tears heavy on your cheeks.

“I can get my shit together, I can!” Klaus pleads as your hand finds the door handle. He can’t lose you, not you. Anybody but you.

“I know you can, but I can’t wait around wondering if you’ll get your shit together before you overdose and die. I can’t wait around hoping the latter will come first. Goodbye Klaus.” You open the door and step into the hallway.

“No, Y/N please. I love you.” You hear Klaus call before you’re closing the door behind you. Your heart shatters as you do, and continues to shatter as you walk away.

Despite what you said, he called. He called over and over again and even came to your apartment. You remember him knocking and begging you to open the door, you had slid down the wall sobbing softly with your hand over your mouth. You love Klaus more than you’ve ever loved anyone, but you can’t watch him die. You can’t. You had to let him go and hope that someday he gets clean, and that he stays clean. You hope that someday he finds something or someone to stay clean for. Clearly, you weren’t enough.

“Please open the door, I know you’re in there.” Klaus begs, leaning against the closed door.

“She’s crying. I don’t think she’s going to open the door.” Ben says, poking his head through the door to look at you. His heart breaks for you, he tried to warn Klaus this was going to happen.

“I love you Y/N, just give me one more chance please.” Klaus tries again but you stay rooted to the floor, your body shaking through the tears.

“You’re hurting her Klaus.” Ben says softly, and Klaus finally takes a step away from the door with a look of realization on his face. He is hurting you. You don’t want him here, and as much as that kills him it’s the truth. The longer he sits here in the hallway, the more you’re going to cry. He has to let you go. He quickly wipes away falling tears before slinging his bag over his shoulder. Klaus leans down to slide something under the door before heading back down the stairs, and this time he isn’t going to be coming back. You turn to see a piece of paper with a plastic bag sitting on your kitchen floor. You lift the bag, and inside it is a necklace. It’s a silver heart with diamonds along the side, but on the inside is a rose made out of rose gold. You feel tears drifting down your cheeks as you turn to the note.

“Happy 1 Year Anniversary. I love you. -K”

You collapse to the floor, clutching the necklace and the note to your chest tightly. You never thought you would lose him, actually you were stupid enough to believe you could save him from himself. But you can’t save him, you never could. No matter how much you love him, it’s time to let him go and you can only hope that the next time you see him isn’t at his funeral.

-9 Years Later-

The letter clutched in your hand was one you never thought you’d be receiving. It’s from Allison, saying that her father died so she’s in town. You can’t fight the excitement you feel upon realizing you’re probably going to see her soon. You missed her. The prospect of running into Klaus crosses your mind, but c’mon what are the chances he’ll even show up? His father locked him in a Mausoleum for most of his childhood, you know for a fact that Klaus has no love for Reginald. You’re surprised Allison is going, but then again Reginald always did his little “experiments” on Klaus. Never the others. Besides Vanya, he treated Klaus the absolute worst. So you seriously doubt Klaus will turn up, plus you’ll only be there for like 10 minutes to see Allison. That’s the only reason you’re standing here, knocking on the door.

“It’s been a while Miss Y/L/N.” Pogo says once the door opens. You smile upon seeing him and can’t help yourself as you stoop down to hug him tightly. You’ve really missed Pogo these last few years. But you had to forget all of this, push it to the back of your mind. Any reminder of Klaus would cause you to collapse into tears, so you couldn’t think about any of it. There were a few times you nearly asked Allison to use her powers to erase your relationship with Klaus from your head. There was a while where you felt like you couldn’t be happy without him, but overall you did fine.

“Oh my God! Y/N!” You hear her before you see her and before you’ve even properly turned around Allison’s arms are winding around you tightly. You feel tears burning the backs of your eyes as you hug her back, it’s so good to see her. When Allison pulls back, her eyes scan your face before flickering behind you.

“Where’s Klaus?” If it were a few years ago, the question would have sent you to your knees in tears. You shake your head with a smile.

“We broke up a few years ago.” The pain behind your eyes is unmistakable. Allison nods before her gaze is flickering down to the necklace secured around your neck.

“Then what’s that?” She lifts the necklace in her hand, the necklace Klaus had slid under your door.

“It’s just a necklace I don’t know what you-”

“I helped him pick it out Y/N. It was the last time I talked to him.” She said and you nod slowly. You hold the metal in your hands, you’ve been wearing it every day since he gave it to you. Clinging to it like it’s the last piece of him you have, which is sort of true. You stole a few t-shirts of his too.

“I was just about to poke around in my Dad’s office, wanna come?” The playful glint in her eyes sends away the tears that were about to spill over your cheeks. You nod instantly, that was the one room they were never allowed to go into. You skip up the stairs behind Allison, running your fingers along the bannister. You remember all the times you ran up these stairs with Allison, either running away from Reginald or Pogo. Or the times you’d gotten hurt and Grace was there to run her fingers through your hair and hold you to her chest, she really was the best mom. She was a mom to you too, your own parents are pieces of shit and the only person you ever really had was Grace.

“Wow, so weird being in here.” You say once you two breach the threshold into the office. It only takes a few seconds for you to hear someone rummaging around in the drawers. You doubt Luther could fit behind the desk without you seeing him so it’s not him, and you just saw Diego in the hallway. Vanya was downstairs last time you checked so that means…

“Klaus?” Allison says it first. Your heart is in your throat as he stands to his full height, which is a few inches taller than the last time you saw him. He has facial hair, he doesn’t look like a boy anymore. He’s really grown into himself, he’s still super skinny though. His fashion style has changed a lot since the last time you saw him. He’s almost sort of feminine now, and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t look hot as hell. His eyes light up upon seeing her, a wide smile stretched across his face. He hasn’t seen you yet, so you’re going to just sneak out. You turn and head for the door when you hear his voice.

“Y/N? That you?” You hear the happiness edging at the tone of his voice. You can’t bring yourself to turn around, you can’t look into his eyes and remember how much you’ve missed him. He’s probably still using and you can’t get sucked into his addiction again. You stay stock still, tears burning at the corner of your eyes as you see him come into your view. He uses two fingers to tilt your chin up, and when you look into his eyes- it’s all over. They’re the same hazel eyes that you remember, the same softness behind them. The tears trickle down your cheeks before you can stop them. You shove past him and out of the room just as Luther comes in, he lights up when he sees you but the look quickly falters when he sees the tears on your face. His gaze trails back to Klaus and then a look of realization finally reaches his eyes.

“You should go after her.” Ben suggests as he moves to sit on Reginald’s desk. Klaus doesn’t say anything as he empties his pockets of things he was planning to sell before Luther caught him.

“Klaus, you're like an open wound for her, fix it. I thought you loved her.” Ben snaps, and this time Klaus glares at him before storming out of the room.

“I do love her.” Klaus snaps back.

“So talk to her and stop being an idiot.” Ben says, and the anger in his eyes is unmistakable. Klaus groans, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“How about, ‘I’m sorry’?” Ben suggests sarcastically. Klaus rolls his eyes. Turning towards the railing of the stairs, Klaus spots you next to a giant window. You’re stood with your arms crossed, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see you.

“Don’t think it’s going to be enough, but I’ll try.” Klaus says softly, looking into Ben’s eyes. Tucking the ornate box he stole from the office into his pants, Klaus makes his way towards you.

“Hey you.” Is all he says, but hearing him say those words with his voice, it’s almost too much. It sends you right back to the first time you saw Klaus overdosing, it’s what he said in the hospital room when he woke up. You push a smile onto your face through the tears.

“Hey.” You wipe away a falling tear as you turn to look at him, and you see his eye fixated on your neck. Klaus reaches up to touch the necklace, there’s a smile on his face.

“You’re wearing it.”

“I never took it off, since you gave it to me.” You admit softly. Klaus looks up to meet your eyes again, and you swear he’s wearing eyeliner. Why is that so hot? Why is him dressing sort of like a woman so damn sexy?

“So, I hate this small talk but how have you been?” Klaus asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets. You casually wipe away a few tears, pretending that neither of you know why you’re crying. Even though you both know you’re crying because of him, again. What kills you the most is that everything else about him looks different enough for you to convince yourself that it’s a different person. But his eyes are the same. The same soft, puppy like eyes and every time you look into them you see the broken look on his face when you broke up with him.

“Good. I’m good, you?” You and Klaus really did detest small talk, but when it comes to you two you need to take baby steps. Maybe you can be friends but you doubt it, either way you have to take it slow. Really slow.

“I’m great.” He says with a wide smile, you nod once before turning your gaze out the window again. There’s one question poking at your head, refusing to be ignored. So you lick your lips and slowly turn to him.

“Klaus?”

“Hm?”

“Did you have anywhere to go after I...I um-”

“After you kicked me out?” You don’t expect the words to sting so much when he says them, you don’t think he intended to say it bitterly but he did. You nod.

“No I didn’t, but I figured it out.” He says with a shrug. You feel guilty as you look back out the window, and that’s when you notice him inch closer to you.

“I’ve missed you Y/N.” He says softly, turning his body to face yours. You feel tears in your eyes again, you know what he’s doing.

“Don’t.” You say softly, but his arms reach on either side of you to grasp the railing behind you- effectively trapping you in place.

“I really missed you.” Klaus says sincerely, his lips ghosting over yours. It’s too much.

“Stop! We can’t do this again Klaus.” You gasp, shoving him away from you. Klaus’s eyebrows knit together, but you know he really isn’t surprised.

“Baby I’m different now, I won’t let you down again-”

“Really? Then what’s this?” You snap as tears drift down your face. You grasp the bracelet on his wrist, the bracelet from rehab next to the one from the emergency room. You see him shrink in on himself, knowing that he had in fact been caught.

“After all these years and you’re still using, and you overdosed again? Do you know how lucky you are to be alive? Dammit Klaus, I’m not getting pulled into this bullshit again. I can’t.” You yell, crying uncontrollably now.

“But I still love you, I’m so fucking in love with you.” Klaus pleads and you know he means it. The annoying part is that you love him too, there’s never going to be a time in your life that you’re not in love with Klaus. You shake your head, you really wished you could control your damn emotions. You turn to storm down the stairs when you feel his fingers gently close around your wrist.

“I know you love me, you wouldn’t wear that necklace if you didn’t.” Klaus says desperately, a look in his eyes you can’t quite place.

“Please Y/N, just kiss me. One more time, please.” Klaus pleads, and you close your eyes as you release a heavy breath. You grasp onto his shirt tightly before pulling his lips down to meet yours. Klaus sighs happily against your lips as his hands grasp tightly at your own shirt, pulling you as close to his body as you can get. Your lips move against each other, and you can already feel the heat rising. You moan against him when his hand slips between your legs on the outside of your jeans. You pull away from him as he presses his palm against your core.

“W-We can’t do this Klaus.” You gasp, your head tilting back as he grinds his hardening cock against you. He winds his arms around your waist, his lips finding the sweet spot just under your ear. You mewl softly, your hands grasping his shoulders tightly.

“Sure we can, you don’t want a relationship- fine. Doesn’t mean we can’t have a physical relationship.” He whispers, biting at your neck in a way that makes you feel like you’re melting. You sigh softly as his hand slides under your shirt and up your back.

“C’mon baby, let me make you feel good. Use me to get off. Please.” His filthy words send another wave of arousal through you. You look into his eyes and when you see the heat simmering in them, you know you can’t say no.

“God please make me cum Klaus.” You plead hoarsely, and his lips press against yours again. He hauls your legs around his waist as he takes a back hallway to his bedroom. He presses you against the wall outside of his bedroom, grinding his cock up against your core. His lips trail kisses from the corner of your mouth, all the way down the column of your throat. Your head tilts back and hits the wall, your entire body buzzing.

“Just please tell me, are you high right now?” You gasp, his hand toying with the button of your jeans. Klaus hums in thought.

“A little.” He admits, and it definitely bothers you, but you need to cum so damn badly that you don’t care too much. Klaus kicks the door shut behind him before dropping you onto the bed, his hands yanking your shirt over your head.

“Wait, is this my shirt?” He asks, lifting the fabric to inspect it.

“A memento, come here and kiss me.” You plead again, your bra joining his shirt not too long after. Klaus happily obliges, yanking his shirt over his head before his lips are on yours. Your hands find his scarf, which strangely looks good on him before pulling it from around his neck.

“Nice scarf.” You comment against his lips. Klaus’s tongue swiftly enters your mouth and you, honest to God whimper against his lips. No man has ever made you whimper before. Your hands reach down to unbutton his pants, and you begin to push them down his legs. Remarkably, Klaus has managed to keep the giant box tucked into his pants concealed, kicking it under the bed when you look down to help untangle the pants from his ankles. You help peel his pants off before you’re sliding onto the floor in front of him. You pump his cock in your hand a few times before you’re taking him down your throat. Klaus hisses as his head tosses back, and you have to admit that the way he looks sends heat between your legs. His arms holding himself up as his neck is exposed, his eyes squeezed shut, his chest heaving. He looks fucking beautiful. You lick a line up the underside of his cock, you still remember exactly what he likes. That’s honestly a little pathetic, but at this moment you couldn’t care less.

“Fuck baby I don’t remember you being so-” he’s cut off when you suck lightly, and he moans. “-being so good at this.”

He swallows thickly, daring himself to look down at you. The sight before him nearly makes him cum on the spot. You’re looking up at him through your lashes, there are tears in your eyes, and your mouth is stuffed full of his cock. He can see it bulging in your throat. You bob your head up and down his full length, but eventually Klaus yanks you off him by your hair.

“If you don’t stop I’m going to cum and I won’t get hard again.” He growls, pulling your lips against his. Klaus’s hands are quickly unbuttoning your jeans, his hands hooking into the waistband to push them down your legs along with your underwear.

“You’re too clothed.” He mumbles against your lips, you eagerly help him undress you. Klaus gently pushes you back against the mattress to lay underneath you, his hands pressed on either side of your head. His eyes are practically twinkling as he gazes down at you, and there’s a fond smile on his face as his fingers brush against the necklace once more.

“What?” You ask, your cheeks heating up from the look in his eyes.

“Nothing. Just...this is my happy place.” He says and you turn your head away when it starts to feel too emotional.

“This is just sex Klaus remember? We’re not getting back together.” You remind him, and you hate the crushed look in his eyes but he nods.

“Yeah, I remember.” He says softly, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. You moan when you feel his tip sliding against your lips, and just that one sound has reignited the fire in Klaus’s eyes. He reaches down to grasp the base of his cock, watching with nearly sadistic eyes as he teases you by rubbing the head along your entrance.

“Don’t be an asshole.” You groan, your fingers curling around the sheets. Klaus leans down to press his lips against yours before he’s sliding into you in one languid thrust. Your breath catches in your throat as you wind your arms around his shoulders. You’re not as tight as Klaus was expecting, which can only mean one thing. You’ve had sex with somebody else, and deep down Klaus knows that he has no right to be upset about it. But he is, he’s really upset about it. He quickly sets a brutal pace, pinning your arms to the bed as he bites down softly on your lower lip. You wriggle one arm free so you can reach up and grasp tightly onto his neck, your fingers curled around his throat. Klaus’s eyes roll back as he continues to pump into you.

“Fuck I missed this.” Klaus groans, his other hand snaking between your bodies to toy with your clit. Klaus has slept with one other person since he was with you, but that was different. It was a man. To Klaus, sex with men is just as good as sex with women but nothing is as good as sex with you. There’s something about you that just makes his toes curl, that edges him a little higher. Maybe it’s because he’s helplessly in love with you, but who knows. Klaus knows he won’t last much longer, especially when you begin to clench around him. He missed being this close to you, feeling one with you. Feeling you. He missed it all, everything about you. He is going to get you back, Klaus has made it his goal to get clean. For you. He never wants to lose you again.

“I missed you,” You gasp, you can’t help it. You did miss him. More than you thought you would, and you thought that time would heal the wound but it didn’t. Actually, the more time that went on the more the wound seemed to open. Klaus continues to push into you roughly, the head of his cock hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. You hold his chest tightly to yours, your eyes squeezing shut when his fingers gently pinch your clit. The tidal wave breaks open then and you’re squeezing around him so tightly that it draws a strangled groan from him as you gush around him. You moan obscenely as you cum around him, your hands holding him tightly. Klaus gasps as he thrusts into you roughly before pulling out of you and instantly cumming all over your stomach.

“I needed that.” Klaus sighs happily, standing to clean your stomach off. You watch him toss the tissue in a trash can before reaching around for his clothes.

“Leaving?” You ask in disbelief, he won’t stay with you for a little bit? Klaus leans back over you before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Sorry baby, got an errand to run.” He says reaching under the bed to grab the box. Klaus slides the scarf around his neck once more, and when you see the box you know what he’s up to. He’s going to sell it for drug money. He tosses your clothes onto the bed before turning towards the door. Just before his hand tugs the door open, he turns towards you again.

“Be honest with me, do you still love me?” He asks and you bite down on your bottom lip.

“I still love you Klaus.” You admit, watching the small smile on his face.

“I love you too.” And before you know it, he’s out of the bedroom and closing the door behind him. It’s immediate that you should not have had sex with him, you should have said no but you couldn’t. Why?

Because Klaus is your addiction.

#klaus hargreeves smut #tua fanfic #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #tua smut #the umbrella academy smut #luther hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus x reader #klaus x you

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

It says that the fic request is open and hence my request. But if it’s not I’m so sorry to bother you!! It’s just that I can’t get the image out of my head:

Dumo and Celeste flirting endlessly and Sirius or Logan walking in on it and going “Gross! You’re my parents! I don’t wanna see this!”

Could you please write something along those lines? 🥺

It’s totally fine if you don’t though. Just shooting my shot.

Fic requests are open, yes! When in doubt, you can always check the FAQ--I update it every time the inbox status changes. Have some Dumo and Celeste for Fic O'Ween day 5 and 7!

Prompt 5: Spending a cozy night in

Prompt 7: Favorite Halloween Movie (technically supposed to be an au, but this fit so nicely)

“Bonjour, mon beau fantôme,” Dumo said with a light kiss to Celeste’s cheek as she settled in his lap with a sweet smile. Her blue face paint left a slightly bitter tang on his lips and she laughed, swiping it away with one thumb. “Even in death, you look stunning.”

“Charmer,” she teased with a tap to his own painted nose. The tattered and makeup-stained hem of her faux wedding dress dragged over his feet as she stretched across the armrest to lean into his shoulder, sighing softly; he closed his eyes and pressed a kiss just above the ripped veil. It was times like that when he remembered just how radiant she had looked on their wedding day.

A shriek echoed from the backyard and he smiled. “I think they’re having fun.”

“Remind me why we do a big party every year?” she yawned. “We could just supervise some trick-or-treating.”

“Or we could make Sirius and Logan do it and…stay home,” he suggested with a grin, earning himself a light smack to the shoulder.

“Mon dieu,” Sirius muttered from the opposite couch, looking vaguely nauseated as he stood and headed toward the door with a grimace. Apparently, texting his boyfriend on a late-night candy run wasn’t nearly distracting enough. “Good night, I’m going to go drown myself in the pool now.”

“It’s a bad night for it!” Dumo called after him around a laugh. “The veil between worlds is very thin! You can’t escape, mon fils, even in death!”

“Good night!” Sirius groaned from the kitchen.

“Victory,” Celeste whispered as the back door slid shut, leaving them alone in the house.

Dumo wrapped his arms around her waist, tracing each pebbly pearl that lined the waistband while he rested his chin on her shoulder. The shadowed eye makeup and massive false lashes could not hide the sparkle in her eyes—her dark lipstick only accentuated the mischief on her mouth. “Halloween is a good time to torment our children, ouais?”

“Oui.” She pecked him on the forehead and he hummed happily. “This bride waited a very long time for her true love, and I’m sure Mr. Skellington’s whole plan was frightening children.”

“We’re doing our civic duty,” Dumo agreed, then pulled her even closer. “Can I have a kiss from my lovely corpse bride?”

In lieu of a response, she leaned in and pressed her soft lips to his own, still stealing the breath from his lungs even after nearly two decades. It was chaste and unhurried—she was warm on his lap, and heavy with exhaustion after the excitement of the day. He knew it would be his job to remove the dozens of pins from her carefully-styled curls and simply couldn’t wait.

“I like the idea of making the boys handle the kids next year,” she murmured, twirling one strand of his hair around her finger the way that always made him melt. “We deserve a break.”

“Oh my god!”

Dumo grumbled and opened his eyes to glare at the doorway to the kitchen. Logan stared back in utter horror. “Can I help you, Tremblay?”

“Oh my god,” he whispered again. His expression morphed into offense. “There are—there are children here!”

“Tabarnak, if only I had realized,” Celeste deadpanned.

“Is this why Sirius looked sick? Was it you?” He shook his head without waiting for them to respond. “Non, I don’t want to know. Eugh. I need to go find my boys.”

Dumo raised an eyebrow at him. “Weeping into Knutty’s bosom won’t help you.”

Celeste turned his head to her with a single finger under his chin and a gleam in her eye, putting on a dramatic pout. “You can weep into my bosom, my love.”

They managed to contain themselves until Logan’s hurried footsteps disappeared with the bang of the back door closing, then erupted into laughter.

#pascal dumais #celeste dumais #sirius black #logan tremblay #halloween #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #ficoween #corpse bride #jack skellington

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sturchling · 3 years

Note

First off I love your Miraculous Ladybug fics. Also I don't know if you are a Black Butler fan or not. But if you are could you please do a fic where Lila causes a that destroys Marinette's home/bakery, which kills Marinette's parents and severely injures Marinette. While in the hospital recovering Roland finds out what Lila did and talks with Gina, both recently have been diagnosed with cancer and want to make sure Marinette is taken care of when they die. Gina or Roland remember a story told to them by a descendant of the Phantomhive servants (In this fic it follows season 2 with Sebastian being able to get Ciel's memories back before Claude tried to brainwash him and was able to eat Ciel's soul) (either from when Gina was in traveling in England or someone who Roland's father knew during WWII) about a demon who acted like a caretaker for a child in the late 1800's. They both decide to sacrifice themselves so Marinette can be cared for. One summons Sebastian the other summons Claude. The terms of the contract are simple, in exchange for eating the soul of the person who summoned their specific demon the summoned demon would care for Marinette, act as her guardian, help her achieve her dreams, and care for her, her husband and their children until Marinette passes away from old age. The contract is accepted with both demons. While caring for Marinette it becomes sort of a contest between the two demons of them trying to out do each other in different ways (if Claude gets her multiple roles of different color spider silk fabric, Sebastian "accidentally" gets Marinette introduced to several high ranking nobles ["Hello, my ancestor worked for your ancestor's peer. What a small world. Might I introduce you to my ward?"] that become her clients. Due to the two demons' shenanigans Lila gets exposed, the Butterfly and Peacock are recovered, Adrien's mother is awakened, Marinette gets some real friends (Will, Ronald, Grell, and the Undertaker got reincarnated and regain their memories after a while) and falls in love with her future husband (either Will, Ronald, or the Undertaker. The only reason I don't do this fic myself is I can't write Black Butler characters even though it's one of my favorite animes.

Sorry this took so long, I wanted to try my best to make the characters accurate, so I had to rewatch some of the show. I hope I did good, but I am pretty rusty, writing these characters. But I tried my best! Hope you like it!

Lila was getting more and more dangerous. She didn't just want to ruin Marinette's social life anymore. Now she wanted to ruin her entire life, or even end it. One night, when everyone was asleep, Lila broke into the bakery and started a fire. She made sure that it would spread to the upper floors and then she raced from the building before she was spotted.

The fire spread quickly and soon the entire building, bakery and the apartment were completely engulfed. Marinette woke up to the smell of smoke and Tikki yelling in her ear. Despite the kwami screaming at her to leave the apartment, Marinette raced down to her parents room, to see if they had gotten out, but the door was blocked by debris falling from the ceiling. The thick black smoke was choking Marinette as she tried in vain to get to her parents. By the time Tikki managed to convince Marinette that they had to leave, Marinette was severely burned on her arms, legs, and back. As she blindly felt her way to the exit, a now exposed wooden beam in the ceiling, came crashing down, landing on Marinette's legs. With her legs pinned and unable to move, Marinette passed out. Thankfully firefighters had already been called and pulled Marinette from the flames before it was too late. On lookers from the neighborhood watched in horror as the bakery went up in flames. Once the fire was put out and Marinette was sent to the closest hospital, the firefighters went into the apartment and found Tom and Sabine. They had died in their room, unable to get out because of the debris blocking their door.

The next morning, the whole city seemed to be grieving. Tom and Sabine were well loved people in the city and everyone was distraught over the loss. But no one was more distraught than Marinette and her grandparents. Roland and Gina heard about the fire early that morning and were horrified to learn that Tom and Sabine were gone. But their one piece of solace was that Marinette had survived. They both raced to the hospital and comforted their granddaughter. But they had a bigger problem. Both Gina and Roland were getting older, now both in their late 80's. Both of them also had several severe health conditions and likely wouldn't be around for much longer as it is. And then who would take care of Marinette? That is when Gina remembered a story she had heard when she was in England. A story of two boys in the Victorian era who had made deals with demons, and those demons took care of the boys. Soon after, both boys' souls were eaten by their respective demons. As much as Gina and Roland didn't want to leave Marinette, they thought that this was the best thing for her. The only way to know that she would truly be cared for.

That night, after they left the hospital, they summoned the demons the same way as in the story Gina heard. The room became dark with shadow and two voices spoke from the darkness, asking the two elderly people why they had been summoned. "We summoned you to make a deal. Our granddaughter has recently lost her parents and we likely will not be around much longer as it is. We heard stories about how you two cared for two boys in the Victorian era in exchange for their respective souls. In exchange for our souls, we want you to take care of our Marinette. To help her achieve her goals, protect her, and care for her until she dies. Both demons agreed to the deal. After all, they had already cared for children before, so they had the skills to do it, and the souls of these two people who would willingly do this for their granddaughter would be nice to have. With the contract sealed, Gina and Roland wrote in their wills that Marinette was to be cared for by Sebastian and Claude, claiming they were old family friends. They also took the two demons to meet Marinette, so that Marinette would at least meet the two before they began caring for her. Once the legalities were taken care of and Marinette had met the two, Sebastian and Claude took their payment and Gina and Roland died.

Marinette was overcome with the grief of not just losing her parents, but now her grandparents as well. Sebastian and Claude, who her grandparents had recently introduced her to, were declared her guardians and began watching over her. Roland had left Marinette his house, so she had somewhere to live. While Marinette began to settle into the new normal of her life, Sebastian and Claude got to work on the first order of business. They were going to get justice for Marinette's parents. They knew that the fire was not an accident and that someone had set it on purpose. The evidence was obvious, but the police were stuck. They didn't know who did it. But Sebastian and Claude quickly learned that it was a girl named Lila who had been tormenting their charge for years now. All they had to do was phone in an anonymous tip to the police about the girl, and the police searched Lila's apartment. Mrs. Rossi kept sayin this was a mistake and her daughter couldn't have done this, but the police soon found evidence of her involvement, including the accelerant used at the bakery. Lila was confused, sure that she had gotten rid of it all. But Lila was arrested quickly, as a crowd had now grown outside of her apartment building. Several members of Mrs. Bustier's class were there and saw Lila being dragged out in cuffs. As Paris looked on in horror at the arsonist that had killed the Dupain-Chengs, no one noticed the shadow like figures standing to the side, smiling coldly at the scene.

They also quickly figured out that Marinette was Ladybug and even figured out that Adrien was Chat Noir when he came over to check on Marinette. They learned this by sensing the souls of the kwami. Since the kwami's souls are obviously not human, and Marinette kept disappearing during the akuma attacks, it didn't take long for the demons to be sure of their suspicion that Marinette was Ladybug. After confirming this, they felt that defeating Hawkmoth fell under their duty of caring for Marinette so they set out to find out who Hawkmoth was. They were able to sense the souls of other kwami in the city. They sensed two other kwami in Adrien's house. With only two kwami present in the house, they were certain that this was the location of Hawkmoth. To confirm this, Claude used a smaller version of his demon form to enter the manor and watch the residents of the house. Claude soon saw Gabriel and Natalie transform with the missing miraculous. Now that they had confirmation, it was time to end Hawkmoth.

The two demons began to plague Gabriel and Natalie with nightmares and torment them constantly. In each nightmare, they made it abundantly clear that this was because of their actions as Hawkmoth and Mayura. Soon, Gabriel and Natalie could hardly sleep and were almost driven completely mad. They surrendered to Ladybug and the miraculous were recovered. Gabriel and Natalie were sent to prison for their crimes. When Marinette learned why Gabriel had done everything and what happened to Emilie, she used everything she had learned about magic to help revive her. Sebastian and Claude lent some of their power to this endeavor as well, not wanting their charge to exhaust herself in the attempt. Adrien had his mom back, and the two moved to England to get away from all the trouble Gabriel had caused as Hawkmoth.

With all the major problems in Marinette's life taken care of, Marinette could relax a bit and focus on her fashion. While she thought it was odd that her grandparents had left her in Sebastian and Claude's care, she did think they were doing a wonderful job. They helped to support all her dreams, any way they could. Claude once brought her several different rolls of fabric made from spider silk. This of course, renewed the rivalry between the two demons. Sebastian brought Marinette to England, making the excuse that it was to see her friend. While there, Sebastian made sure to 'run into' the descendants of some old friends. Several nobles and aristocrats found a charming man and young girl in front of them at many parties. The man seemed familiar to them all, especially the older guests at these parties. They were sure they had encountered this man before. When asked if they knew him, the Sebastian always responded with "My ancestor worked as a butler for one of your ancestor's peers. He worked in the Phantomhive manor as the butler to Ciel Phantomhive. It truly is a small world for us to meet. May I introduce my charge, Ms. Marinette Dupain-Cheng." Sebastian spent the whole night talking up Marinette's fashion business and Marinette would leave these parties with several more clients than when she arrived.

Claude and Sebastian kept trying to out do each other in their attempts to care for Marinette. Helping her with her designs, getting her fancy fabrics and equipment, even convincing several major fashion magazines to feature her work. As odd as the arrangement was, it did work. Marinette met several new friends, thanks to Sebastian and Claude's interference. She even met the man that she would marry. A man who looked suspiciously like Will, from all those decades ago. As the years went by, even after Marinette was an adult and didn't need caretakers anymore, Sebastian and Claude continued to watch over and protect her, as per their contract. And they would watch over her, for the rest of her life.

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moralesispunk · 3 years

Text

Standing up for their daughter

For Frankie Morales, Din Djarin, Marcus Moreno, Pero Tovar and Marcus Pike

x Female Reader (established relationship with child)

based on this post I made the other day (it was quite long so I did it with fewer characters but if you want me to do another with others then I can do a part II!)

Frankie

You were at work when Frankie got the call into school because your daughter had been “violent” with another pupil. Frankie’s head was racing the whole drive there, wondering what had happened and hoping his baby girl was okay but ready to give her into trouble if need be. When he walked into the principals office, she were sitting on one of the chairs in front of the desk, an empty one next to her for him. She started to talk but he silently told her to wait, looking to the principal and asking what had happened.

“Your daughter pushed Alexander over in the playground today. The poor boy has cut all down his leg.”

Frankie looked at his little girl, waiting for an explanation to this from his usually quiet and peaceful daughter.

“He was pulling my hair dad! He chased me around the playground and didn’t stop pulling my hair even though I asked him to stop!”

Frankie was angry but managed to keep it inside as he turned back around to the principal.

“And what is happening to Alexander?”

“Well, he is fine the nurse had a look at-”

“No. What punishment is he receiving for tormenting my daughter?”

“You know what boys are like, he was just teasing her. Probably means he likes her. There was no need for your daughter to get that violent with him.”

“I am going to take my daughter out of school for the rest of the day and my wife can come back and talk to you tomorrow because I don’t trust my temper right now,” Frankie said calmly, “that boy needs punished for the way he treated my daughter and she should not be punished for defending herself. I suggest you have a think about that before you talk to the boys parents and before you try and give my daughter into trouble again. Let’s go, honey.”

Frankie took your daughter’s hand, walking with her out of the office. On the way the by the boy and his parents Frankie hands his daughter the keys to his truck and tells her he’ll be there soon. When she is out of sight he turns to the parents, telling them teach your boy some manners, my daughter expects a full apology before walking off again. He takes her out for ice cream, telling her that while he doesn’t condone violence she was right not to let him continue to act like that. That night the boy and his parents arrive at the door, a full apology given from him to your wee girl.

Din

Your youngest daughter came and found Din, saying the oldest had been in a fight with one of the boys in the covert. Din took her hand, letting her lead the way to the circle of children that had formed. A boy he had recognised from around the covert was lying on the ground, his daughter standing over him with her arms crossed.

"Alright, enough,” Din walked through the sea of tiny bodies that started to run off in different directions when he arrived, “what happened?”

Just as Din placed his hands on his hips, waiting for an explanation, the boys father arrived.

“He kept pinching me, he wouldn’t stop and so I made him stop,” your oldest daughter shrugged.

“Ah, he was just teasing,” the other Mando helped his son up.

“He wasn’t teasing!” you daughter sighed, exasperated.

Din turned his helmet to his daughter, warning her to stay quiet as he dealt with the situation.

“He must have a liking for your girl, Mando! You remember what it was like,” the other man reached over and placed a hand on Din’s shoulder.

“No. Teach your son some manners or I’ll teach my daughter to hit him back harder next time,” Din said simply, his hand still holding onto the hand of your youngest and the other reaching our for your oldest.

The man and his son stared silently as Din walked off with his two girls, waiting until they were round the corner to ruffle your oldest hair.

“I think I hurt my hand when I punched him,” your daughter shook the pain out.

“Well I guess we better take tomorrow to perfect your punch,” he said, the smile in his voice clear.

Marcus M

When he gets a phone call at work from Missy’s school his mind is in instant panic mode and that panic doesn’t settle by much when he is told by Missy’s teacher that she punched a boy. Marcus excuses himself from work and heads straight to the school, walking straight to the principals office. Missy is sitting in the corner on a chair, obviously upset and next to a boy holding an ice pack to his face, with the parent’s mother and the principal watching him as he walks in.

“Thank you for coming Mr Moreno. I’m sure you are as surprised as we are with this, Missy is usually a very quiet but polite girl,” the principal began.

Marcus nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“Missy will be suspended of course, for this unprovoked attack on another student, and will be expected to write an essay on her actions.”

“Is this true Missy?” Marcus turned and looked at his daughter.

“I did punch him yes,” Missy began and Marcus sighed, “but only because he kept pulling my hair in class and pinching my arm. I told him to stop and he didn’t. I told my teacher and she said to ignore him but he kept doing it. I told him if he did it again I would punch him. He did and so I punched him.”

Marcus kept his face straight and stern, something he had learned from Heroic training and turned back to the principal.

“Well, from what I see, Missy gave him fair warning,” Marcus kept his tone neutral.

“Mr Moreno,” the principal sighed.

“She hit my son!” the woman next to him screeched.

“And your son pulled my daughter’s hair and pinched her,” Marcus raised his eyebrow, “I am not happy with my daughter raising her hands in a classroom and we will have a talk, but unless this boy is also being suspended and writing an essay on his actions and his mother is prepared to talk with him about his disgusting manners then Missy will be in school, 9am sharp tomorrow.”

The principal and mother stared at Marcus mouth agape for a moment before nodding.

“They can both be in school tomorrow,” the principal sighed.

“And I am prepared to come in and teach the young boys of this school a lesson on what no means, as it seems the school and parents are not teaching them an important lesson. Let’s go Missy,” Marcus stood and waited for Missy to follow him out.

And that is exactly what Marcus did. Missy was at school the next day, head held high after the both of you made her feel better about the situation, and two days later Marcus gave a lesson to the whole school on no means no.

Pero

Pero took your and his baby girl with him to the market to give you some much needed alone time. As he wandered around the stalls he had his large hand wrapped around her small one to keep her close, ruffling her hair and sending funny faces her way whenever they had to queue for meat or vegetables. When he turned to face the butcher to pay him with coins, he heard a fuss behind him but ignored it until his baby girl yelped and there was a thud on the ground.

His head whizzed around and he seen his little girl holding onto the back of his tunic and a boy a little bigger than her on the ground.

“She pushed me!” the little boy whined.

“He pulled my hair first!” your baby girl explained.

“Sounds like you learned your lesson, don’t annoy little girls or they’ll hit back,” Pero chuckled at the boy, lifting the meat he had just bought from the counter and walking with his little girl in his hand away from the stall, “very good, my love.”

Marcus P

Marcus was always a favourite with the mums at birthday parties and you always joked you shouldn’t send him alone. This week there was a birthday party of another girl in your daughters class and since you had a day out with your friends planned, Marcus would take her. When he showed up, the back-garden was full of children screaming and bouncing on the bouncy castle, all the mums and one other dad standing about the kitchen.

He was talking to the other dad when all the parents attentions were grabbed by a yelp coming from the bouncy castle. One of the wee boys was sitting in the middle, looking up at your daughter as everyone else jumped up and down.

Marcus and the other man left the kitchen, walking over to see what was going on.

“She pushed me down!” the boy shouted to his dad.

“He kept pulling on my hair!”

The man next to Marcus chuckled and Marcus shot him a glare as he lifted his daughter from the bouncy castle.

“Looks like someone has a crush.”

“Looks like someone needs to be taught some manners,” Marcus shot back, carrying his daughter into the kitchen for a drink leaving the other man and his son staring as they walked away.

If the rest of the mums didn’t find your husband attractive before then they sure did now, all of them saying a chorus of someone had to tell him, and he lets his son get away with that with all our daughters but we never knew what to say. After this catch Marcus having a strong one-on-one chat with the man later telling him to teach his son not to bother little girls like that or he will become a dangerous young man.

Permanent tag list // @phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes @dihra-vesa @evyiione

#frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #marcus moreno x you #din djarin x you #marcus moreno x reader #din djarin x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #headcannon #oneshot

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liptonsbabe · 3 years

Text

Chains of a family [B.W]

Bill Weasley x Grant! reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

Summary: Molly thinks that Bill’s and the reader relationship is a mistake so she wants them apart from each other. Bill’s against his mother wishes and he find a way to drag the reader into the Weasley family officialy

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: none

A/N: Hi! Part 4 of this thing lol. I’m so happy that you guys like this story. It’ll have like 20 chapters or so, i’m still deciding that so yeah, that’s pretty much the thing. Btw, from now on chapters will be more interestings... i hope so lol. Again, english not my mother language. Please let me know if something’s wrong. Aaaaaand if you want to be tagged in the next chapters tell me and i will add you! Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Arguments

The rest of the afternoon passed as normal as the days before your arrival. Arthur Weasley made sure of it. Even if Molly attacked you with her dagger gaze when you and Bill hugged each other after you were done with dessert.

You didn’t know what Mr. Weasley had talked about with his wife while you were taking a shower, however, you noticed the tension rising from their bodies after you sat down at the table next to Bill and saw an annoyance sign on Molly’s lips. Her temple was frowned, reminding you of your own mother's gestures. Those flaming eyes, cleft chin, and pinion lips. Both women contract their features too much when they were upset and in your distress, you knew that they must not be disturbed.

The last thing you wanted was to hurt a marriage as solid as the Weasley's. More than once you heard your mother talk about it with your nanny making a powerful emphasis on how Molly and Arthur were able to carry out their marriage even if their economic conditions were precarious and the war was on their heels. They were an envied couple. Few dared to expand the family as much as they did without money in their pockets and spreading their progeny like a plague. No one was surprised, not even your mother, not when her marriage to Evan Grant was merely for financial advantage. Now Arthur and Molly looked upset, too upset for your understanding and you just hoped they could get along soon.

You weren't sure you deserved the sacrifice Bill's father had made for you, yet a flame of hope lit up in your chest. If Mr. Weasley started to trust you that was a good sign for others to do as well, right?

The afternoon continued as normal, seeing how Bill's plans to distract you from the fervent harassment of his mother was marred by the twins intervention. They had just finished a new product for their store and needed a good taster to certify the quality of their merchandise. It was a bad idea, he told himself, because twins were just a disaster and you didn't know them well enough to deny their good-natured pretensions.

"Be kind!" He yelled at them as Fred and George pulled you into their. Bill exhaled, pleading that his brothers wouldn't bother his girlfriend more than his mother already had.

Before taking you home, he thought about the pros and cons of your stay in the burrow. His conclusion was based on the fact that his entire family welcomed Harry Potter with open arms, so you didn't have to be the exception. He knew the difference in conditions in which his theory developed, yet he put his trust in the good judgment of his family even if the Grants' past left much to be desired. Bill didn't talk much about you with his mother, in fact, your presence at home was the last of his worries, the real problem came at the time of joining the Order of the Phoenix, would you be willing to fight against your relatives even if that mean betraying your own blood? Bill hope you will

Coming downstairs, Bill found his mother storing the leftover food in the fridge while the dishes soaked in the sink. Then he watched her clean each plate with her bare hands, no magic. William knew his anger was real.

"Want some help with that?"

"I'd love to, honey, thank you," his mother answered without looking at him. Bill raised the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, dipping his hands into the tide of water and bubbles that flew across the kitchen. Molly was silent, drying the dishes and flying them to her place in the display case across the kitchen. Bill cleared his throat doubtfully "It never hurts to help, much less when I have so many things to do before the rest of the Order arrive"

"Don't worry, I'll help you with that too."

"Perfect"

"Mom, can we talk?"

"About what?

"You know what," Bill clicked his tongue, passing her the last plate from the sink to continue with the spoons. "(Y/N)..."

"Your father has scolded me enough about that girl, I don't need you to do it too"

"I wouldn't if you had a little consideration with her."

"More consideration?" Molly asked in a squeak. Bill shook his head. "I'm letting her stay at my home!"

"Our home, mom, ours," he corrected, drying his hands with a cloth. "This house also belongs to my dad, my brothers, and me. It's the burrow, a family property, not a secret club where some people can get in and others cannot."

"You know what I think of her"

"And you know I don't care." Molly looked scandalized at her son. She didn't understand what he had seen in someone like you or what you had given him to come out and defend you as he did "I don't ask you to love her, but at least you have to try...

"Have you ever wondered what will happen when she betrays us?"

"That's not gonna happen"

"You're very sure of that, William"

"I'm convinced, Mom. You don't know her like I do and, you know what? I see that wanting to talk to you was a mistake"

"Moody thinks like me," Molly stopped him when Bill was ready to go upstairs. The woman clung to the railing watching her son standing in the first step out of the kitchen "(Y/N) Grant is a danger to the Order"

"Really? Like Mundungus Fletcher? I beg your pardon, mom, but if there is anyone who represents a latent danger to the Order of the Phoenix, it's him and yet you have assigned him for the mission tonight"

Molly's lips parted and if it weren't for the fact that Bill knew her mother too well, he might think the woman was about to throw herself on the floor in a tantrum. Still, she clenched the bars tightly, her brow furrowed, and the redness on her cheeks washed over her forehead.

"William!" Don't talk to me like that!"

"I wouldn't if you had a little more respect for my girlfriend."

"Don't you understand? I care about you! For all of us!" She snarled angrily. "Having a Riddle in this house..."

"A Grant, mom, (Y/N) is a Grant and that's not the same." Bill descended his steps, approaching her mother, returning that angry look that she had inherited from him. It was a strange sensation. A dyad of emotions between joy and fear where the composed emotion was guilt. He had never exploded that way with his mother, but Molly hadn't behaved that way with anyone either "His grandfather is Lord Voldemort's half-brother and his brothers are all Death Eaters, what does it matter? (Y/N) is not. And when do we judge others by where they come from? If so, we could start with half of us. Being a Weasley is equivalent to being a blood traitor"

"William!"

Molly's face went from fury to shock to fury again. Bill's eyes were twinkling and Molly swore she had never seen any of her children this angry, or worse, this determined.

"What would you have done, Mom?" Bill questioned taking his mother by his arms in an attempt to make him feel her despair. Molly opened her eyes, scared. "When your family tell you not to accept dad? When your brothers object to your engagement, just 'cause the Weasleys have long been considered blood traitors?"

For the first time that day Molly's mind went blank, Bill guessed, rewinding the memories of how difficult it was for the Prewetts to accept the marriage. Bill pleaded silently, but pulled away from her when his mother gave no indication to be a little more respectful with you.

"We aren't like that. We don't separate people by where they come from, we hug them" Bill resumed his way towards the stairs, stopping a couple of steps up, turning to take a look at Molly's stunned figure "As you did with Hermione, Remus and Harry when you and Dad became his godparents after Sirius died. (Y/N) is no different"

"She will turn her back on us when the Order fight the Grants. That moment will come and you know it"

"Don't worry, i'll make sure that doesn't happen"

"She is not part of this family"

"That can be solved very easily," he said and the smile he wore gave her a terrible chill down her spine. "Because I'm going to ask her to be my wife."

Molly's gasp was the only thing Bill heard before climbing the stairs and heading to the twins' room. He always respected his mother a lot and even thinking of opposing to her wishes was inconceivable, but your well-being was something that was involved and Bill couldn't just let her mother control his life at her will. Maybe the mistake he made was not telling his parents the truth about you from the start or, in that case, mentioning that the woman he loved was the fucking niece of the strongest fucking dark wizard of all time.

Bill Weasley rubbed his face as he reached the twins' door. He no longer had to torment himself, it was done and the only thing pending at the moment was to get Harry out of his uncles' house, take him safely to the burrow and find the courage to do what he told his mother he would do.

Would you agree to marry him? He hoped so and if not, he wouldn't pressure you. You were young - even a little younger than him - and it would be understandable if you refused to tie your life to someone else's from one moment to the other. The war progressed every day and if you were going to do it, you would do it as soon as possible.

Loud laughings brought him out of his thoughts to observe you and his brothers sitting on the floor, right in the center of both beds, laughing at each other and touching your faces. From the doorway Bill can't see the full painted room, however George's face showed a rather abstract mural full of bright colors when he felt the presence of his older brother. Fred did the same showing his face in the same situation and then you turned to Bill, still laughing and your face smeared with paint. It seemed the twins had created a paint bomb in millimeter pills, that explode when you put a little bit of pressure. You tried to clean yourself with the sleeve of your sweater but you spread the paint even more. Fred and George laughed and so did Bill.

His heart swelled with love as he saw that at least someone in his family - besides him and his father - had hope in you. God, he may have even cried with happiness.

Bill never understood how a sunshine as beautiful as you was never accepted in your entire life.

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