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helpmeimblorboing · 5 months

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Something I wrote at age fourteen. One of the first pieces I wrote.

(Reblog this post with your first attempts at writing. I wanna read em)

I step into the classroom, and immediately a tidal wave of depression washes over me. Everyone inside looks like they want to kill themselves, including the teacher. Honestly, I can’t help but agree.

I have been reliably informed, by several sources, that it is “normal” to be depressed at a return to bleak normalcy, but honestly, I don’t feel different in the slightest. Numb and bored. What a combination.

I pick a random seat and sit down. Someone beside me tries to say something. I shut him up with a glare. My head is pounding – it always is, something about existence in general gives me a migraine.

My head drops onto my desk with a loud thunk and I prepare to drift off to sleep, lulled by the soft droning of the teacher giving a lecture – his lung capacity must rival hot air balloons, he hasn’t stopped to breathe in fifteen minutes

A shrill voice snaps me out of the haze of sleepiness, and for a second, I contemplate committing murder. A hand on my shoulder shakes off the last of my sleepiness, and I sit up, rearing my head back till it lands on the desk of the person behind me with a loud thud.

I look up into the upside-down, and irritatingly cheer-filled face of Ivan Reyland, and resist the urge to choke him to death

“You kinda look like you want to eat me, James”, he says, a lilt of laughter to his voice

“Astute observation”, I mutter, before reaching up to rub the sleep from my eyes, and deflating into my chair. Someone across the room stares at me. I bare my teeth like an angry chimpanzee threatening to tear someone’s face off. They stop staring.

“Leave him be”, a second voice joins our motley crew, and the boy beside me starts trying to inch away. I turn and find myself staring at the rippling abs of Becky Smith. I look up at her twinkling blue eyes as she continues talking, “He probably didn’t sleep again last night”

“That’s not true !!”, I protest, even as I start falling half-asleep again, “I slept”

“Oh yeah ?”, asks Ivan, “How long?”

Becky stifles a giggle. I glare at her. “Two hours”, I mutter.

“Told ya”, she snorts. I roll my eyes. The boy beside me has actually taken off running now. The teacher… does not give a single shit

“Wow”, Ivan mutters, “You’d think he’d look up, at least”

“He retires at the end of this month”, Becky reliably informs us, “We could kill someone in his class and he wouldn’t care”

I roll my eyes, and hoist up my jacket till it covers my head, leaning into my arms and slowly drifting off into the soft embrace of slumber.

My name is James T Halen, because my parents apparently suffered from a complete lack of creativity. What does the T stand for ? I don’t know, and neither do my parents. It could stand for Tyrannosaurus Rex for all I know, or care.

I think you should know that I hate people. Just on principle. People tend to be shit so I think I’m justified. I like to eat. I like to sleep. And not much else.

Sitting behind me is my friend, Ivan Reyland. He’s my oldest friend, and therefore, my best friend, because that’s how society works. He’s very pretty and has long black hair, down to his shoulders. He also has an eye-meltingly bad fashion sense, as evidenced by his current get-up – a black jacket over a shirt so loud that I think it just rendered me permanently deaf

He’s currently talking to my other friend, Becky Smith, who looks like she could crush me to death with a hug. She probably could, to be honest. She’s a body-builder, and has short-cropped black hair, that looks like moss if you look at it from below. I made the mistake of mentioning that to her once. My shoulder still hasn’t recovered.

I resist the urge to put my head through a wall, and privately laud myself for it. It was very hard. I rock my head back-and-forth for a little bit to calm the headache. It does not work. Sighing, I tune back in to Becky and Ivan’s conversation

“How do you not see the sexual tension !!”, Becky’s saying, waving her hands in the air, “They’re clearly in love”

Oh God no

“They hate each other !!”, Ivan retorts, and I feel a sense of morbid curiosity, even though I already know the answer. It’s Drarry. It’s Drarry and I want to kill myself

“Didn’t one of them bully the other for seven years ?”, I slur slightly as I butt into the conversation. My common sense is screaming at me to ignore them, but I have this condition where I both despise other people and am in constant need of validation from other people, and so I interrupt anyways

“Well yeah,” Becky says, calming down her voice a little as I enter the conversation. Good. My eardrums were about to explode. “But he helps Harry near the end, right ? So he’s actually nice. Anyways, it’s common to bully the ones that you love”

“He does ?”, I ask, somewhat confused. It’s been literal years since I read those books

“He does not”, Ivan confirms, and he looks kind of like he’s developing a migraine. Good.

“In any case, Harmione is the best ship anyways”, Ivan continues, “even if it’s hetero”

Who the fuck is that.

“You heretical bastard”, Becky responds, and my head is seconds away from popping like an overripe watermelon as the conversation drags on

“Ivan. Becky”, I begin, and my voice sounds strained to my ears, “Will you please stop talking about J K TERFling’s books ?”

“Death of the Author, James”

“Not sure that applies when the author is very much still alive and shitty as ever”, I respond, and my head droops sleepily, “Also, they’re minors”

“Technically so are we”, retorts Becky, “Anyways, minors can fall in love. Remember how I caught Ivan staring at that Year 12 boy once ?”

“He was cute !!”, Ivan responds, and his cheeks flame red, “And anyways, I wasn’t staring”

“No”, I respond, “you were drooling too”

The bell rings suddenly, drowning out his response, and freeing me from the shackles of class. Slowly, staggering a little, I rise to my feet, and sit back down as the throng of my classmates surge up around me. Not getting bowled over by a horde of eager 17 year olds today, no sir.

A few of them giggle and point at me, and I’m not sure if it’s because they find me attractive or if I have something in my hair again. Romance is a mystery to me, some kind of mythical story – like the knights of Camelot, or Hercules. I’ve never experienced it…. or maybe I have, and just never noticed. I’m stupid like that.

I love my friends, I guess, but that’s not “real love”, I’ve been informed, which seems kind of stupid to me, but hey, what do I know ? Apparently you need to want to screw something to love it, and that just seems ridiculous – parents love their children…well, most do – and I doubt every mom and dad in the world is actually a closet incestuous pedophile.

There are three schools in my town, when there should probably only be one, considering how they’re all basically the same anyways. Anyways, I digress. My school is one of these Big Three, and I genuinely don’t remember what it’s name is. I tend to forget things really quickly.

I slowly massage my head as I trudge down the hallway, headed for my locker. As always, someone is making out with their partner against their locker again. I pause for a second and time it, until they break away and glare at me – apparently, staring at a kissing couple is considered rude. How strange. They managed to last twenty seconds though – a new record, the last couple only lasted ten before they started shouting at me

I arrive at my locker and find a grey Post-It note stuck to it. An right-pointing arrow has been clumsily drawn on it, suggesting that I should, perhaps, look in that direction. I do so. There’s a boy standing a few feet away, dressed in all-black, his eyes an icy blue. His ebony hair hangs to his shoulders, and a necklace hangs round his neck – a black jewel on a silver chain, that probably costs more than my house.

I pluck the note from my locker and wander over to him. A grin tugs at his delicate lips as I approach, and he bows slightly once I’m near enough, like someone pulled straight out of medieval times

“Hello”, he says, and his voice is strange – almost misty, if that were an adjective you could use for voices – like a ghost, “I’ve been expecting you”

“Huh”, I say, because I don’t know the proper response to that. There’s an awkward silence, until I finally break it with, “Why ?”

“I’m glad you asked !!”, he says, a relieved smile stretching over his pale, sharp face, “Simple. Destiny”

“Are you…”, I massage my forehead as my migraine gets exponentially worse, “Are you flirting with me ?”

“Gods no”, the boy says, the smile never leaving his face, “I have higher standards than that”

“Good”, I retort, “cause I do too”, and turn to leave, only stopping once I feel his hand round my arm, holding me in place. His skin is ice-cold to the touch, like a snowman. I turn to face him, and his eyes glint with a strange desperation

“Wait”, he pleads, “You can’t leave”

“I’m pretty sure I can, actually”, I say, brushing his hand away from my arm, “I have legs. Who are you, anyways?”

“I’m you”, he says, and his eyes flicker slightly, gleaming strangely, “and I’m here to ask for assistance”

#lgbt #gay #original writing #writeblr #creative writing #writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity

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btsinwonderland · 3 years

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A Drop of Poison - Ch. 12: Detention

A Loki fanfiction!

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“That is not where the garlands go!”

You jumped when Professor Sif’s shrill voice came from right behind you. Your hand faltered and the thirty foot long flower garland you had been levitating towards the wall fell. A few petals came off during impact and you could feel the frigid cold of Sif’s stare on the back of your neck.

Two weeks had passed painfully slowly and quite uneventfully as you spent all your spare time assisting Professor Sif. You had expected it only to be one week, but the damn woman had specifically requested your help and even had you run her errands. You picked up her clothes from the service floor, got her mail, and even on one occasion, had to deliver food from the Great Hall to her office since she was working late! Overall, it was not the worst you had been treated, though Professor Sif always seemed perpetually annoyed at everyone and everything. At least it was not personal...you hoped.

Headmistress Frigga had announced that the Halloween Ball would move forward in full swing to celebrate the return of Ken and provide some levity prior to midterm examinations. The true horror was in fact right after Halloween, you thought, dreading your exams.

Your classes had been quite peaceful. Finally, you could get some studying done. It was a strange adjustment after everything that happened. Though...had it upset you that Professor Laufeyson had not bothered to speak with you much. You found there was no reason to go see him, now that he apparently had been committed to assigning the most complicated potions during classes. A part of you wondered if it was a ruse to fool you, but you had no time to concentrate on what he could possibly have planned, since you were nearly one wrong ingredient away from blowing up your cauldron.

The memory of kissing him remained in the back of your mind. It made you tense all over again. His lips were unbearably soft and you could not but imagine how soft they would feel elsewhere on your skin. You had fallen asleep with unreserved thoughts of your professor, though your dreams never lingered there.

Since your encounter with Fenris, all your dreams were of blood, teeth, and death. Not even the fondest memory of Professor Laufeyson could change that. You yawned and the banner you were adjusting inched down along the wall.

“Eves, if you can’t straighten that banner, then what am I using you for?” Professor Sif said.

“Free labour,” you mumbled under your breath.

Professor Sif glared at you and returned to her task. She was decorating with several balloon garlands of black and silver. The balloons were the gag for this year and were meant to explode at the end of the ball, setting free tiny little pumpkins to run around nip at everyone’s ankles.

From the doors out of the Great Hall, you glimpsed a window which was completely black. You had not realized that your entire evening had dissolved away and it was already much past sunset. In fact, you barely remembered having dinner or what you did the entire day. Upon settling the banner, you sighed and wondered how busy you had been to completely forget the contents of your days. You could not even remember the last time you and Valkyrie were able to have a fun night.

A brown owl flew into the room and dropped a note on Professor Sif’s head, to which she nearly growled. The owl quickly flapped away with a screech. She opened and read the note, casting you a stern look. “You are free to leave your duties early, Eves,” she said in a light voice. It was the kind of voice that made it seem like you were receiving some big break, when in fact, today was the last day of helping Professor Sif, and you only had a couple of hours left.

“Are you sure?” You said, trying to suppress the annoyance in your tone.

“Oh yes, you are free from my keep. However, your detention begins now.” Professor Sif smiled at you. “You are to go to the Potions classroom promptly, and begin assisting Professor Laufeyson.”

Your stomach immediately clenched. Professor Sif saw the panic on your face and smiled wider. The woman truly loved punishing students. Though what she did not know was why you truly feared your detention with Professor Laufeyson.

As you thanked Professor Sif and headed out of the Great Hall, she said, “you may want to bring earmuffs, as I believe he is borrowing some of Professor Hogun’s mandrakes.” She laughed and returned to her decorating. You rolled your eyes and continued on your way.

***

Your heart thudded loudly in your chest as you walked through the dimly lit halls, earmuffs in your bag. The path to the tower was becoming dangerously familiar to you and you found yourself being pulled towards it as if something - or someone - beckoned you.

Regardless, as it was your first night of detention, fear coated every one of your steps. Your stomach tightened in knots as you wondered what sort of punishments Professor Laufeyson would dole out.

The more troublesome parts of your mind played out some very…interesting scenarios which made heat rush to your cheeks. Cannot think those thoughts! He’ll know. He always knew what was on your mind, somehow. Though, you felt you had started to develop an idea of his expressions and what he felt sometimes. He had a tendency to smile when he was upset, which differed from his cruel smile, which was even different from his taunting smile. It made you appreciate the sight of his content smile, which he had thrown your way a few times.

Your thoughts poofed away as the familiar wooden doors of the potions classroom opened for you and you hesitantly approached. The room was lit with candles and torchlights on the walls, and Professor Laufeyson stood at his desk, shirt rolled up to his elbows and an unreadable expression on his face.

“Good evening Miss Eves.”

You gulped and walked towards him. A part of you wondered if he could hear your heartbeat. It felt like it thudded so loudly that the room would vibrate. “G-good evening, professor.”

He raked a gaze over you, seemingly uninterested. “I trust Sif kept you busy these last couple of weeks?”

You nodded, unable to find your voice again.

He smiled at you. It was a mixture of his foreboding and taunting smile. “Well, now you may look forward to assisting me. And be sure, Miss Eves, I have very high expectations.” He moved towards you until you had to crane your neck to look up at him. “You can never be late, I expect the utmost punctuality.”

You nodded as the scent of his clothes invaded your space.

“You shall do exactly as I say, no questions asked.”

You continued to nod as he moved closer and placed his hands on the desk behind you. His lips were so close to your face that you could not help but glance at them.

He smirked slightly and leaned back, giving you space to breathe. “And, you will call me Master when we are alone.”

You looked up at him, impossibly confused. “What?”

“Miss Eves, I am going to give you a choice.” He stepped away from you and raised his hands in the air. “There are two possibilities for detention with me. Number one, you do everything I say and call me master. With this option, I do warn you that things may get very...amusing,” he paused and grinned at you mischievously. “Number two, you will come to receive your detention alone, and I will leave my notes on that desk for your duties. You may leave once they are done and that will be that.” He gazed down at you, eyes glinting.

The man was giving you a choice. You realized that this was your opportunity to do what was right and maintain some level of propriety in your student life. A part of you wondered if he knew that you were turning eighteen in the coming months. There was a part of you that knew this was wrong. You were so young and he was your professor. But the heat in his gaze pointed you in one direction, where option two felt faraway and lukewarm.

“Choose wisely, Miss Eves,” Professor Laufeyson said, crossing his arms. “There is no going back.”

You stepped towards him. “I was told to stay away from you,” you said, taking another step. “I was told that you’re dangerous.”

He seemed to glow at your words and smile grew wider. You felt dizzy, but you stopped inches away from him in some surprisingly stupid bravado.

“Option one.”

He raised a brow, as if impressed by your courage. Then said, “option one, what?”

Your breath hitched as you realized what he wanted. “Option one, master.”

His lips twitched at the word ‘master’ and he almost swayed towards you, but stopped himself. Professor Laufeyson stepped around his desk with a sigh and pushed his hair back, chuckling to himself. “Come, Miss Eves, we have a potion to brew. Did you bring earmuffs?”

The heat of being around him certainly was put on the back burner when you were brought into a room, sealed off by sound from the outside, and for good reason. As soon as he opened the door, you heard the screeching sound of baby mandrakes. Despite your earmuffs, the creatures screamed unbearably loud, and you helped Professor Laufeyson gather pieces of their roots. He held the root up for you as you snipped the ends. At one point, your hands touched, and you felt a jolt run through your skin. He met your eyes, and the mandrake screamed louder.

Your ears were ringing after Professor Laufeyson shut the door. He brought you to a backroom, where he created his own potions, you realized. It was filled with unending shelves of ingredients, trunks, boxes, and vials of liquids that glowed or were strangely powdery. In the middle, there was a medium-sized cauldron with a single bench that was long enough for perhaps one and a half person.

“You will help me assemble this potion. Though it is way beyond your curriculum, I am sure this will take you quite ahead for your N.E.W.T. examinations.” He rotated the bench so that the long part was perpendicular to the cauldron. He sat on the end, away from the cauldron, straddling the bench, and gestured for you to sit in front of him.

You swallowed and put your leg over the bench and sat down, straddling it just like him. His chest brushed against your back as the pleats of your skirt splayed over the wood. You adjusted for a moment and heard his breath catch when your bottom moved against his pelvis. Heat rushed to your cheeks...and other areas, as you felt the mass of his body so close to you.

Professor Laufeyson cleared his throat. “Now, Miss Eves, this potion requires careful concentration,” he said, as his arms moved around you and emitted that green glow. A vial of purple liquid floated over and emptied itself into the cauldron, and a wooden spoon levitated towards you.

You caught it and began mixing the contents of the cauldron as he put more ingredients in. “You’re doing wonderfully well,” he whispered in your ear. His lips brushed against your skin and you felt your core tighten.

“Master,” you said with a blush, “how do you do magic without a wand?”

He ran his fingers over your arms and you let go of the spoon. Your skin felt electric everywhere he touched you. He raised your hands and inched closer to you. His entire body was pressed against yours and he placed his hands in yours, palms out. You intertwined your fingers in his. As he moved his hands, the green aura emanated from them, and you felt the vibration of his magic between you. You gasped in wonder and he laughed.

“It is quite fantastic, isn’t it?” He said as his magic lifted a box of newt eyes and plopped them into the potion one by one. It returned on to the shelf and he moved the spoon to stir the brew with a thread of green magic. “It’s something I got from my father,” he said, his tone lowering.

He untwined his fingers from yours and put his hands to his sides, and you felt colder. There was an awkward silence as you turned back to look at him.

“This magic is yours entirely. We all receive our power from somewhere, but how we use it is the real magic. Yours is beautiful,” you said. The words slipped out of your mouth naturally.

His eyes widened in a surprisingly soft way, and you received a new smile. It was tender and soft. Though it disappeared quickly and he raised a brow at you. “Are you this forward with all your teachers, Miss Eves?”

You scoffed and turned back to the cauldron. “Absolutely not!” You tried thinking about the other professors in the way you saw Professor Laufeyson and gagged.

His tone darkened. “Good, because I was never one for sharing,” he said in a low voice. A pulse went through you at his words.

You felt like an elastic stretched to its limit. You could not take any more. “The ball is next week,” you said.

He let out a breath through his nose, a short laugh. “Yes, and?”

“Well...are you going?” You said, careful not to sound too interested.

Hands gripped your waist and spun you around so that you were now straddling the bench, but facing Professor Laufeyson. He was remarkably strong for someone so lean. Your knees touched, and he gripped your hands in front of you with a taunting smile. “Would you like me to ask you?”

You flushed and slipped away from his grip. “Of course not! Th-that would be highly inappropriate.”

He laughed at your reaction and then recovered when you glared at him. “All the professors are required to go, and I don’t mind the odd festivity. And what about you, Miss Eves? Are your spirits raised with the idea of getting dressed in expensive clothes and tiaras, dancing the night away with a handsome boy, and perhaps getting into a bit of trouble?” His tone was teasing and condescending, which made you frown.

“Hmph, not all of us can afford expensive gowns, Master. But I will enjoy getting ready with my friends and dancing the night away. And I’ve never turned down a bit of trouble, have I?” You said, with a raised brow.

He matched your expression, seemingly impressed. He smiled and licked his lips. Heat flashed through your body and all you wanted was to jump on him then and there. What was happening to you?

He got up from the bench and handed the wooden spoon to you from the cauldron; chunky green liquid dripped from the end. “Now, I want you to keep stirring this for another twenty minutes while I return the mandrakes to Hogun,” he said.

“Twenty minutes? Of hand stirring?” you said.

“Nothing beats mixing by hand, not even magic,” he said with a wink. “Though, if you’re a good girl, then perhaps you will be rewarded.”

“What happens if I’m a bad girl?” You blurted out and cursed yourself for the slip.

He raised his brows and then put a finger under your chin, grinning in challenge. “Then you’ll see my wrath.”

Your lips parted, and he looked at them, almost longingly, but moved away and out the door.

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tbtssstuff · 4 years

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Blood Lust || kth

Summary: With a killer clown on the loose, you worry about your boyfriend’s late night job. A job you knew he had, but didn’t know the details of what he did or where it was. Or you didn’t until the night you heard screaming from the basement.

Pairing: Killer Clown!Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Smut, Horror

Word Count: 2.4k (I didn’t intend for it to get this long, but it did)

I have no idea how to add the warnings without giving things away, but let’s try.

Warnings: Blood, graphic acts of torture, dry humping, biting, blood play, character death, fingering, shit gets crazy, a lot of inflicting and receiving pain,Tae and the reader are sadomasochists and psychopaths

Masterlist

AN: Buckle up kids! This gets dark and nasty. Please read the warnings before you continue because when I say shit gets crazy, it GETS crazy. Thank you to @ahoeforblackvelvet for requesting this! I hope it’s alright! I decided to go all out for this because I’ve never written anything like this before.

-TJ/ TacoAdmin 🌮

The cold wind blew the leaves through the woods. The moon high in the sky barley illuminated the trail and other than the crunching of leaves, there was no sound. The ominous feeling you got grew stronger and stronger, almost as if something was coming.

Your heart stills when you hear a twig snap somewhere nearby. Being as still as you could be, you listen closely, hoping nothing else was there, but then your hear footsteps getting closer and closer until they were on top of you.

“Y/n.”

You scream, throwing your popcorn in the air as Taehyung, your loving boyfriend, placed his hand on your shoulder at the worst possible time.

“Damn it Tae! You know you can’t do that!” You place your hand over your racing heart, hoping to regulate it again while Taehyung laughs at you.

He knows you love horror movies and always told him that ‘if you were going to watch one it better be at night in the dark’, so he found it funny when he could easily scare you like this. You looked really cute when you were scared.

Taehyung rounded the couch to sit beside you before throwing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close. You could smell the fresh soap on his body, but there was some time of metal smell on his clothes. Must be from his mysterious night time job that he never talked about.

Since it was almost ten pm you knew he had to leave soon, but that wouldn’t stop you from trying to plead with him to stay. There have been so many men that have gone missing lately, only to be found two weeks later brutally mutilated and you were scared that Taehyung would be next.

The police have been trying for almost half a year to find this killer. He was completely random or at least that’s what you gathered from the news. There were only two things that were consistent; all the victims were males, under 25, and they all had a red balloon tied somewhere on their dead body.

People started calling him a couple different names. Pennywise and Bozo The Clown were the most popular options, but your personal favorite had to be Killer Clown. Just simple and to the point.

You tried to think of ways to get him to call in sick, something he absolutely never did, smiling as the perfect idea popped into your head, the familiar warmth spreads through you just thinking about it.

You pull back from Taehyung and swing your legs so that you were straddling him, wrapping your arms around his neck to play with his silver locks.

“Tae~” You coo, kissing your way down his jaw, grinding your hips down to meet his, reveling in the way he groans at the fiction, tilting his head to expose more of his neck for you. You tongue your way down his neck before biting down. Taehyung moans, his hands slipping to grab your butt as he thrusts his hips into yours.

Taehyung had always been a bit of a sadomasochist, loving inflicting pain on you, but loving the pain you gave him right back.

As if he knew your alternative motive, Taehyung lifted you off his lap, placing you beside him with a huff. You pout, more upset with the abrupt stop than you are that he found out your plan. Sex with you was always his weakness so of course you would use it to keep him home. Taehyung knew about your worries, but he had to get to work.

“Y/n you can’t stop me. I have to go.” Taehyung smiles as you whine, leaning down to steal a quick kiss from your lips before heading to the door. “Don’t worry about me alright? Nothing is ever going to kill me. Don’t wait up okay? You need your beauty sleep.” Taehyung winks at you, opening the door and finally leaving for work.

You sigh and reach for your phone. There was a text from your friend Jimin.

After you turned off the TV and made sure all the doors were locked, you made your way to the stairs, passing the basement door on the way. You never had to make sure the basement door was locked because it was always locked.

Taehyung always kept it that way and when you asked why he had just told you that you didn't need to go down there. All he kept was his tools in the basement and you accepted it just like that. Though it did make you curious sometimes. Just what kind of tools did he have down there?

You shrugged, not really trying to deal with it tonight, but before you walked away you heard a faint yelling. It sounded like a guy called for help. And it was coming from behind the basement door.

You try to shake it off, chalking it up to being home alone and the fact that you had just watched a horror movie, but then you heard it again. It was definitely there.

Swallowing the fear, you walk back over to the basement door, which was stupid. It wouldn’t open and you would realize you were being paranoid and go to bed, right? You push the door, surprised when it did open, the door hitting the wall with a loud thud.

“I is anybody there!” A voice called from the darkness below.

“Hello?” You called back, a hand pressed to the wall as you descended down the steps. The darkness of the basement quickly engulfed you. All you saw was pitch black.

“Please help me! Hurry! He could come back any minute!” The guy sounded so desperate and frankly it was annoying. Just hearing his shrill plea was hitting a nerve you never knew you had before.

Soon enough you found the light switch, turning it on, the fluorescent lights temporarily binding you and whomever was in the basement. The buzzing sound of the lights just seemed to further your irritation. Did Taehyung work a lot down here?

You pause. Taehyung. This was his special place. A place he told you you could never enter, but here you were and with a strange man. Did he put him down here?

Your eyes soon adjusted to the bright light, slowly the blur in front of you turned into a very handsome, very naked, bloodied man. His right eye seemed to be firmly shut by all the blood that had died there, the source was a gigantic gash on his forehead.

Both his legs were twisted and mangled - defiantly broken - almost as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to them. On his left hand all of the fingernails were torn off, three missing fingers on the right hand. There was blood all over the arms of the chair. Several burn marks and knife slashes reached from his chest and to his shoulders. You wouldn’t be surprised if they were on his back as well.

The man let out a relieved sigh, smiling at the sight of you. Now that you had a good look at him you recognize him. This was Jeon Jungkook, the guy that went missing almost two weeks ago. He was here in your basement being tortured this whole time.

You felt your gut twist, but not out of disgust or horror, but of excitement and arousal. It was a new feeling for you, especially because it came at the sight of a half dead man, but you didn’t feel like you wanted to stop it. If anything you wanted more.

“Please.” Jungkook cried. “Please help m-”

Jungkook’s pleas were cut off by the sound of the front door closing. You were getting more excited with each footstep you hear, while Jungkook was getting more scared. His wide eyes begged you to untie him.

“What? Why is this open?” Taehyung’s voice wafted down from the living room, followed by his heavy footsteps on the wooden stairs, until he came into view, eyes wide at the scene before him.

He wasn’t the only one.

Taehyung had entered the basement looking completely different than when he left. His large white shirt was switched for a tight silky red button up, blue jeans for tight black ones, his shoes were now black dress shoes instead of his regular sneakers, but the part of him that had drastically changed was the makeup on his face.

Red painted lips that were over drawn to look like a menacing smile, his nose was completely red, his eyes were now blue indicating he had put in contacts with dark red and black eyeshadow, and there was a purple line with a circle on each end on his left and right eye, stretching from his eyebrow to his cheek.

Your boyfriend was the killer clown. Your boyfriend was a murderer.

And you had never wanted him more.

“Y/n.” Taehyung growled, walking towards you and gripping your arm, his nails digging into your skin. “I told you not to come down here.”

“I heard noises so I came to look.”

“I really wish you hadn’t”

“But I did. Why didn’t you tell me that it was you?”

Taehyung scoffed. “What? Tell you?”

“Yeah, then I wouldn’t have had to worry about you getting kidnapped and killed. I would have known you would come home.” You smirked up at him.

“I would have joined you.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened and he grins, a new wave of feelings washing over him.

“You would have?”

You wiggled your arms out his grasp to instead wrap your arms around his chest, kissing his exposed collarbone. “I.” You kissed further up. “Would.” You lick the bite you made earlier, it was already a deep purple, excited as Taehyung shivers. “Have.” Finally you kiss his red painted lips.

You feel Taehyung smile against your lips before he lifts you up into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist, feeling his hardening cock press against your thigh.

Taehyung walked over to a workbench, placing you on the hardwood, but you hissed as the skin of your legs came in contact with the sharpness of one of his knives. You could feel the blood start to flow from your thigh.

“Tae.” You whine, but Taehyung was already one step ahead of you, unwrapping your legs from his waist to move the knives out of the way. He pushed you back further on the bench until your back was on the brick wall and you could place your legs up, exposing your bleeding legs to Taehyung’s greedy eyes. You were thankful that you had gone with your shortest and thinnest shorts today.

Taehyung’s hot tongue lapped up your blood causing you to moan at the feeling. He wiggled his tongue over the cut before pulling back, smirking at your whine. As he moved his hands to the waistband of your pants, all you could see was the red blood stain around his mouth and his red painted lips were already smudging.

It was the hottest thing you had ever seen in your life.

Taehyung dragged your shorts and panties down your legs before chucking them to a random order of the room. The two of you were so lost in your foreplay that you almost didn’t hear Jungkook start to call out for help again. Not that it was going to do him any good.

“Help! Somebody help me! Please!”

You groan, head lopping to the side, frustrated that this prick wanted to ruin your fun. Or would he? Your lip curled wickedly as you had a fun idea. You pushed Taehyung back, hopping off the table and taking off your shirt, your breasts free because you weren’t wearing a bra, before you gripped one of the knives in your hand.

“Why don’t you shut up?” Before you even finished your sentence you bent over and drove the blade of the knife into Jungkook’s leg. Jungkook screams drowned out your laughter. Taehyung came up behind you, his chest swelling with pride and love.

Taehyung slipped his fingers between your folds, collecting your juices before going to press his thumb harshly against your clit. You moaned, head falling forward onto Jungkook’s shoulder, which he tried and failed to jerk away from your touch.

“Keep slicing baby. Don’t let up.” Taehyung purred from behind you, his finger drawing figure eights around your clit.

You whine and moan, but continue as Taehyung said, twisting the blade in Jungkook’s leg. Jungkook’s screams were being drowned out by the intense pleasure Taehyung was giving you.

His skilled fingers slip down further, circling your entrance before inserting two fingers, thrusting them in and out of you.

With each thrust of his fingers, you would slash the knife across any bit of skin you could reach, sometimes that included your own. Anytime you would catch your skin, you moaned and pushed yourself back to meet Taehyung’s fingers.

You could feel yourself getting close, the coil inside your belly tightening quickly. Taehyung could feel your high approaching. He took the knife from you, tossing it to the side and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you up to meet his chest. His lips kissed the side of your neck, staining it red.

By the time Taehyung had inserted a third finger you were being pushed off the edge. Your orgasm washed over you and Taehyung thrust his fingers to help you through it until you began to push him away due to over stimulation.

Taehyung pulled his fingers out and let you slip to the ground as he licked his fingers clean, moaning at the sweet taste of your cunt.

When you were finally coming down from your high you could hear Jungkook sobbing. Annoying little brat. You wanted to do away with him yourself, but you didn’t have the energy right now.

“Why don’t you try to go upstairs, Y/n?” Taehyung helped you from the floor and over to the stairs. “While I take care of him.”

You hum in response before kissing his red lips one last time before attempting to maneuver your way up the steps. “Kill him good baby.”

That got Jungkook’s full attention.

“No no! Please! I I won’t tell anyone just please let me go!”

“Oh you won’t be telling anyone.” Taehyung smirked before picking up the knife, towering over the sobbing boy. “That’s for damned sure.”

You heard one final scream before Jungkook was silenced forever.

#kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung smut #kim taehyung x reader smut #taehyung x reader smut #kim taehyung #bts x reader #bts x reader smut #yandere!bts x reader #killer!bts x reader #Blood Lust #tbtsstuff

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tf2-headcanons-and-scenarios · 4 years

Text

A/N: Trigger warning ahead. Keep in mind I’m trying to keep accurate to the attitudes of the past, including the degradation of women and girls. I am truely sorry if anything triggers something unwelcoming!

This story was made as a culmination of my despair over the death of Rick May, the man who voiced Soldier for 13 years (since 2007), who had recently died to COVID-19 almost a week ago. In a way, this is my tribute to him.

For the first time in a couple of months, you were finally going to visit your Soldier, and you couldn’t be happier about it. Being away from the team sucked majorly for you, though you thanked Miss Pauling for helping you keep in contact with them, especially Soldier. You were able to recognise the words of the patriotic American in Medic’s handwriting, considering the fact that Soldier did not know how to write.

You pulled out a small toy badge from the pack, and you almost instantly smiled at the small thing. The colour had worn away over time but its pin was mostly in mint condition.

—————————————

“THIS IS WAR MAGGOTS! THOSE GERMAN BASTARDS WILL PAY FOR FIGHTING AGAINST AMERICA!”

The shrill voice of a young and very loud boy erupted from the playground as a very large group of young boys began inventing an unrealistic reconstruction of a WW1 battlezone, much to the annoyance of a smaller group of girls who had been in the same area first.

You watched with gleeful curiosity at the boys who were rolling around in the dirt and shooting each other with stick-rifles and throwing water balloons as grenades. You wanted to join in on their fun, even if you had been denied playing with them in the past. The girls you were with began leaving, calling for your attention as you snapped back to reality after watching the makeshift battlezone for a while.

“Hey [y/n], are you coming with us or not?”

“I, um...might stick around and watch for a while longer...just to see if there is anything to laugh about later!”

“Whatever you desire, later [y/b/n]~”

They walked away from you laughing, but you didn’t care too much about it...if you didn’t think about it too much. Making sure the girls were as far away as possible, you carefully began to approach the group to ask if you can join. You had managed to avoid getting hit until a boy accidentally slammed into you, knocking you to the ground. Once your senses fixed themselves, you were hauled onto your feet by a few other boys who noticed you after your collision.

“Well well well lads, what do we have here?”

“What’s a girl like you doing over here away from the other girls?”

“I...I wanted to come and play with you...”

“Girls can’t play war, they play gross stuff like House or something!”

“Hey, here’s an idea: take off ya shorts and lift up ya skirt completely, then we’ll let you play.”

“W-what, no! That’s gross!”

“Then cry back to the girls dollface, you won’t get to play with us unless you lift your skirt up sissy!”

They began ‘encouraging’ you to do what they had asked in exchange for letting you play with them, even taunting you with all the other girls who did what they wanted and how much fun those girls had playing with them. You began to feel too overwhelmed with the demands as tears began to form, earning a laugh from the group.

“THAT IS ENOUGH FROM YOU LADIES!”

That same loud voice that you heard from earlier erupted through the group, catching your attention as well. A small boy with a pot over his head and a plastic pin badge on his shirt shoved his way through the crowd with a scowl on his face and turned to face the boys.

“This is NOT a place where you can hook up with girls! THIS IS WAR! There is no time for making goo-goo eyes and asking for favours from women, there is time only to fight and rescue the innocent from the enemy!”

“Get your head out of the fucking clouds Doe, this is make-believe idiot.”

“If she wants to play she CAN PLAY!”

“Not until she gives us what we want, she’s nothing but a coward!”

“NONSENSE! This, uh...what’s your name?”

“[y-y/n]..?” You stuttered in response, confused and upset.

“This young lady [y/n] is an innocent caught up in the War, and it is my duty as an American soldier to rescue the innocent!”

He struggled to pick you up bridal style, screaming as he ran off with you in his arms as the boys began to slowly go back to their game, disinterested in both you and your ‘rescuer’.

Once he ran far from the game, he set you on your feet and sat down to catch his breath. You hadn’t noticed your tears still falling from your face until he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to you.

“Mommy says it’s the right thing to do when a girl is sad.”

You took the handkerchief and wiped your tears away, shaking out a ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m sorry’ from your lips as you tried to calm down. You then found him standing in front of you with his toy badge in his hand, which had been extended towards you.

“B-but it’s yours, isn’t it?”

“You can have it for being very brave against those dogs Miss [y/n]. I’ve never seen a girl not pull her skirt up before in order to play with us. Good soldiers deserve medals!”

You wipes more tears away and gently took the toy badge from his hand, looking at it with curious eyes plagued with puffiness and tears. You looked back to the boy to see his eyes, now uncovered, who was grinning the biggest grin.

“I don’t like seeing girls sad because of other soldiers, that’s not the American way as my daddy says. If they’re being bullies to you again, count on American Army veteran Jane Doe to save the day every time!~”

———————————

Tears had streamed down your face as you looked back onto that memory. It had been the only time you had met Soldier outside of mercenary work, but it had been a memory you kept with you for so long; a memory that made you almost instantly recognise that same boy years later as a grown man. The same man you fell in love with. The same man you had wanted to see for months on end.

The van stopped as you had begun to wipe your tears away after letting them fall onto your backpack. Pinning the badge onto your shirt, you tidied up your hair and exited out of the vehicle without the pack, following Sniper through a large field filled with gravestones of the dead. You remembered burying your boyfriend’s mentor in this very same field, and how upset he had been when that day came.

If only Soldier could know how heartbroken you were when you were forced to miss his own funeral.

——————————

It had been a couple of weeks since you heard anything from Soldier directly. You only got the odd update from Demoman once a week, at least up until 2 weeks ago when the letters stopped. Your worry had done nothing to ease your mind as your thoughts plagued on the virus spreading throughout the Doublecross area, where your team was assigned merely 3 months ago. Your worry had been increasing tenfold when you received the news that 5 members of the team got infected, and battles were erupting again in Doublecross between both teams stationed there.

You wanted to do nothing more than to travel to Doublecross and be there for him, but mercenary work forced you away, and your requests for shore leave were always denied. All you could do was hope and pray and beg to whoever was out there to keep them all safe; to keep Soldier safe. The plastic badge that stayed on you 24/7 was your only source of comfort, though it did little to stop the tears that had fallen from sheer worry and panic.

You awaited for Miss Pauling to arrive with the week’s batch of letters, your current team waiting alongside with you. Miss Pauling arrived eventually and gave them all what they had wanted, leaving you with nothing more than an ever-growing worry for another week.

“Miss [l/n], I have something for you here.”

Your head perked up to those 6 words you so desperately longed hear for weeks. Getting up with hope in your eyes, you rushed over to Miss Pauling, only to have your worry return when you saw her eyes had been slightly red from...crying?

“M-Miss Pauling...?”

She straightened her posture and took out a folded document from her jacket pocket. Clearing her throat, she began reading it.

“Miss [y/n] [l/n], it has come to my attention that you had been anxious to hear of RED Soldier, Jane Doe, for weeks already. I am afraid to inform you that by the time this letter reaches you his funeral was held but yesterday.

As the only closest relative to Mister Doe as his beloved, I hereby inform you that RED Soldier Jane Doe has died in the line of duty 8 days ago.

Attached to this letter is the contents of a small ring box he had hidden in his room that was reserved for you. His personal things, split between yourself and your former team’s Demoman, will be brought to you at a later date for you to do what you please with them.

My condolences,

Administrator.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. You grabbed and re-read the letter over and over again, Miss Pauling tapping your shoulder to give you the mentioned ring box. Opening it, you saw a cheap-looking ring that was just too big for your ring finger. That broke you completely, as you collapsed in tears onto the floor, Miss Pauling kneeling beside you and holding you close in comfort.

——————————

You and Sniper approached a gravestone that had a box of scrumpy beside it. Looks like Demoman had recently been here. Sniper patted you on the shoulder before leaving you to your devices. You placed a bouquet of Soldier’s favourite flowers onto the dirt below and you sat down in front of the gravestone, your hands toying with the toy badge still pinned to your shirt, and the engagement ring that hung from a silver chain.

“...hey there Jane, I’m home at last...! I have a lot to talk to you about, so you’ll be here for a while...”

——————————————

Soldier sat with his back against his own gravestone, tears falling from his eyes as he listened to your stories and memories, memories he was able to share with you.

If there was one thing he hated about being dead, it was the fact he had been given permission to die before he got the chance to live a life with you.

#tf2 soldier x reader #tf2 soldier #tf2 #tf2 headcanons #tf2 x reader #one-shot #angst with fluff #rip Rick May

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gamerwoo · 4 years

Text

[Tales from the Pack] Wonwoo: Protector (Part Five)

Characters: Wonwoo x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, angst, kinda a little fluff but it’s like sad fluff lmao, talkin bout death

Word count: 1,776

Summary: If there’s one thing Wonwoo hates, it’s feeling helpless; like there’s nothing he can do to stop somebody he loves from getting hurts. It’s happened to him once before, and he swears it’ll never happen again. Especially not after he meets you.

Tag list: @choiminjae0325 @heolykpop @fullsun-donghyuck @yoonbabe-d @exuwu @lets-get-1t @sooooofrench @vintageot5 @sehunnies-hunnie96 @luvhannie @childfmoonn @wobwobkpop @henloimawierdobye @dirinast @hhhhwww7 (if you wanna be added please send an ask or a dm!!)

Unable to tag: @uglyratlmao

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She appeared in the same meadow that she usually did. The clearing was always so sunny and warm, and she didn’t know if it was her own doing since she always seemed to appear there, or if it was in the minds of the wolves that showed up.

Not too far away, Jia could see Wonwoo’s back as he knelt in the soft grass. She approached him slowly, not wanting to startle him or interrupt anything. She wasn’t sure what Wonwoo would be doing in the meadow, but she knew that he was one of the two that appeared there most often.

As she knelt down beside him, sitting back on her legs, she stared at the same spot in the ground that he was staring at, “You sure come here often, especially as of late.”

“Yeah,” he said plainly.

After a few moments of silence, Jia looked up at the older wolf, “Why do you come here, Wonwoo? You seem to switch between dreaming of Danbi, and then _____, and here. What’s the significance of here?”

Wonwoo sighed deeply, running a hand through his dark hair. Jia had sensed the tenseness from his dreams, so she knew it was something stress-related. At this point, what did Wonwoo have to not be stressed about? Even looking on the outside, it seemed as if everything around him was falling apart, and Wonwoo was helpless; unable to do anything about it.

“Everything started from her,” Wonwoo finally began, letting his hand drop from his hair.

“_____?” Jia asked.

“No,” he shook his head, “Lilly.”

“Why Lilly? Were you close with her?”

“We all were,” he chuckled, fondly remembering the memories that were so bittersweet. “She was the first ever mate in the house, and she took care of all of us. I didn’t have Danbi with me anymore because I left home, so I tried to take care of Lilly like I would Danbi. …I should’ve protected her, Jia; I was supposed to protect her.”

Jia frowned, her brows furrowing in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“When she went into town the day she died, I was the one sent with her,” he explained. From where she sat and the way the sun hit Wonwoo’s face, she could see his eyes start to get glossy. “I was told to stay by the tree line but also to keep an eye on her. If I did a better job watching over her, she’d still be here. She’d still– …She’d still–”

Wonwoo was hiccuping back tears, unable to finish his sentence. Jia leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as one hand went to his back to rub up and down soothingly. Her other held one of his trembling hands as he finally let out his sobs, letting himself break under what felt like the weight of the world – his world – crumbling around him.

“It’s why I tried so hard to protect Danbi, and now _____,” he said quietly once he’d regained his composure a bit, afraid his voice would break if he spoke any louder. “But things with Danbi aren’t the same because of me, and _____ lost everything. I can’t protect anybody, Jia!”

“That’s not true,” she stated, shushing the cries that started to wrack his body again. “Wonwoo, why haven’t you told anybody you feel this way? Does Joshua know you feel guilty over Lilly’s death?”

“I didn’t leave my room for a month,” Wonwoo sniffled, wiping his eyes with his forest green sweater sleeve. “I didn’t start to feel better until Danbi was able to come live with us. Even still, I– I know it was my fault, Jia. Josh even now is too nice to tell me it’s my failure that cost her life, but I know it was. He probably secretly blames me but doesn’t want to say it out loud.”

“Have you spoken to _____? Or even Danbi before?”

“No, they can’t know.” he insisted, finally turning his head to look down at the tiny girl. His eyes were red from crying, tears continuing to fall from them. “They need to see me as a strong protector; they can’t know any of this. Please, Jia, if you see _____ in your dreams, don’t tell her.”

Jia offered a sad smile, wiping away Wonwoo’s tears like a mother would. “Wonwoo, _____ will still love you all the same. She needs to know that you feel this way; she can help you. Though I promise not to tell her, it’s only because I’m going to encourage you to tell her yourself.”

“I have to be strong for her,” he insisted. “She just lost everything.”

“Not everything,” she reminded him. “She still has you, doesn’t she?”

Wonwoo gave a small nod, quietly saying, “She always will.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over Lilly’s death, either,” the small Chinese girl advised, reaching up with her thumb to swipe a stray tear. “I don’t know much about her, but she didn’t seem like the kind to give blame from what I’ve heard, and seen in Joshua's dreams.”

Wonwoo already knew that nothing anybody said could make him feel less guilty. Unless Lilly somehow came back from the grave, he would never forgive himself for the events that happened. But he knew he couldn’t break down in front of Jia like this -- not that she would mind -- so he tried his best to contain his emotions.

“Thank you, Jia,” Wonwoo nodded, trying to offer up a small smile. “Minghao is very lucky to have a mate like you, and I’m lucky to have a sister like you.”

Jia flashed a warm smile, wrapping her slender arms around Wonwoo’s frame. He let out a chuckle, letting his cheek rest against the top of her head.

However, the sweet moment was interrupted by a shrill, ear-bleeding screech that had both of them immediately waking from the dream. Wonwoo shot up in bed beside you, tears streaming down his face as he covered his ears, whining loudly at the noise that hurt to listen to. Due to the wolves’ heightened hearing, the scream felt like it was cutting through his eardrums with a white hot knife.

“What is that?!” you gasped as you sat up beside him, your pillow wrapped around your head to cover your ears.

Wonwoo couldn’t even reply, bending his head in an attempt to get away from the noise. You noticed his discomfort and let go of the pillow, pressing your ear against your shoulder instead so you could rub your mate’s back in comfort.

Soon after the screaming started, there was a sharp crash that sounded like thunder striking just outside the house. It startled you as you let out a small yelp and tried to bury your face in your pillow to hide. But you couldn’t hide from the way it shook the house, including the bed you were sitting on.

It seemed like forever until the screaming stopped, and the house seemed to settle for just a second before doors were being burst open, and various members of the pack were shouting.

“What the fuck was that?!” Soonyoung demanded.

“If this is another one of you getting a fucking power…” Jihoon’s threat was left hanging in the air.

Wonwoo sat up, removing his hands from his ears. You looked at him, seeing the tear streaks down his face, but you just assumed it was pain from the noise.

“Are you okay?” you asked, concern lacing your voice as you quickly reached over to wipe his face of the moisture. “Was it the noise?”

Wonwoo didn’t reply, instead getting out of bed to go to the hallway. The rest of the pack was gathered already, including a confused-looking Junhui, an annoyed-looking Mingyu that was carrying his crying daughter in one arm, and a terrified-looking Jooyeon that was hiding behind Seungcheol and gripping his shirt for dear life.

You walked up behind Wonwoo, slipping passed him to stand against the wall by your door in the hallway, “I don’t think that screaming was a power.”

All eyes landed on you, and none of them looked happy. It had taken you a while to realize it after the shock of being woken up from a deep slumber, but you knew exactly what that sharp, ear-piercing noise was. Beom had kept plenty of books about all sorts of creatures, and this creature happened to be one you were both interested in, and terrified of.

“If you say what I’m hoping you won’t say...” Joshua threatened slowly.

“I think that was the scream of a banshee,” you told them, your eyes flickering to meet each member of the pack’s eyes.

“Oh my fucking...” Joshua sighed under his breath.

“Don’t those…signal death?” Jooyeon asked slowly, recalling the last encounter with the shriek.

“Nobody knows for sure since everything known about them is legend and folklore,” you shrugged. “Some say they signal death, others say they shriek to block out the noises of this Earth to hear the voices on other planes, and some say it’s both.”

“Why would one be in this area all of a sudden?” Seokmin wondered, though the look on his face implied he dreaded to hear the answer.

You felt Wonwoo’s stare lock on you, but all you could do was stare at the floor. Considering what had been going on lately with Donghae, if banshees really did signal death… You couldn’t even think about any possibilities.

The atmosphere shifted, feeling like a deflated balloon. Some of the wolves looked around at each other, others exchanged looks with their mates. You refused to look at anybody, scared to get emotional when the whole thing was still an unknown. Yet, that somehow made it scarier.

“Everybody back to bed,” Seungcheol said, his voice low and deflated.

He turned around, ushering Jooyeon back into their room before shutting the door. Mingyu nodded for Danbi to go back into the room, softly shushing Jiwoo as he kicked the door closed behind him. Most of the pack exchanged looks and awkward smiles that just looked like straight lines across their faces.

You felt Wonwoo slip a hand around your waist, pulling you back into the bedroom. Once the door was closed, he let out a sigh, hugging you to his chest tightly. You didn’t say anything, you just let your hands rest on his chest, gripping his t-shirt in your fists.

“Even if this banshee thing isn’t real,” he began, his voice quiet in your ear, “I promise I’ll protect you no matter what.”

In his head, he added on, ‘And I won’t fail this time.’

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sopwithwhump · 3 years

Text

Something Else is Taking Over

Hey y’all I overcame some writer’s block with some Welcome to Night Vale whump (just discovered the podcast, loving it! It has whumptential >:3) Cecil is experiencing strange blackouts, which lead him to waking up in different places, all beat up. Carlos cleans him up after he gets quite hurt from one such episode. Tw: possession

It first occurred to Cecil that something was amiss when he suddenly found himself in the diner. Except, it was the daytime. The diner was only open at night. Except, he was on the floor. Bleeding. The glass door was broken, a Cecil-shaped hole smashed into it.

He looked around. How the hell? It seemed that he was just at the grocery store, purchasing some wheat-free bread. Everything went black, for just a brief moment, and here he was.

Still attempting to process what happened, he slowly got up, then snatched some napkins from the nearest booth and pressed them to his bleeding arm. He then quietly opened the door and ran out, hoping he wouldn’t have to explain his break-and-enter to the sheriff’s secret police.

His car was out in the parking lot. The purple Volkswagen’s driver door was open and the keys were still in the ignition, although it was not running. Cecil was left with many questions. Usually he did not entertain questions, because he would go insane if he tried to search for answers to every question his Night Vale life created. He was conditioned to accept the strangeness of his town, to be fond of it even. But never had he been buying bread and then suddenly transported into a diner, seemingly having to have broken in to the place.

He carried on with his duties of the day. Attending a press conference on the new playground adjacent to the dog park, and how no children are allowed to play on it, visiting Carlos to see what he had discovered about Night Vale today, and going out into the sand wastes to observe the giant sand snake and the blue helicopters circling above.

When the evening came, Cecil sat in his recording booth. He flipped a switch, which caused the ‘ON AIR’ sign to illuminate. The broadcast then began.

“A man in a black coat means misfortune. A man not wearing a black coat also means misfortune. You are not safe. Welcome to-”

He blacked out. Then, a brief vision of the front of city hall. Then black again. After that, Cecil suddenly shook awake on the grimy space-themed carpet of the arcade in the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex.

“Hey! Cecil! You alright?” A middle-aged man in a bowling shirt called as he ran over, carrying a red bag with a white cross.

“Teddy? Oh… my head… my nose…”

“Don’t move, Cecil. So… what happened to him?” said Teddy Williams, looking up at two boys who stood nearby.

The first boy looked up at Dr. Williams nervously. “Well… you see… you were probably in the back… when he went totally berserk! He ran across the nice lanes, sir! And then he ran into the arcade-”

The second boy slapped him. “Get to the point. You threw a five-pin bowling ball at his head. Hit him right in the face. That’s why his nose is bleeding!”

“Dr. Williams, this isn’t true! I’m not the one who threw the bowling ball, Jimmy is!”

“I don’t care who threw the ball, get outta my bowling alley!” snapped Teddy Williams. “Balls are not to be taken out of the lane area, nor thrown at people! Get out!” The two boys quickly exited the premises as Teddy kneeled in front of Cecil.

“Cecil? You alright, buddy?” He took a penlight and shined it in Cecil’s eyes.

“Bowling ball?” said Cecil, “Oww. Listen Teddy… I don’t know how I got here…”

“I was listening to your broadcast. You got cut off. Then there were… a lot of crashing sounds. Then dead air. Soon enough someone comes running to me about a man trying to crawl into the pin retrieval area of lane ten. I was ready with my broom to chase the intruder when someone again came to my office to tell me that the ‘radio guy’ got hit in the head with a bowling ball. So I put the broom down and brought my medical kit instead.”

“That… what? I… I blacked out, Teddy… I was running around like a madman? Owww… that explains the pain throbbing through my whole head. Maybe that kid was right to hit me with a bowling ball.”

“I don’t know, I didn’t see. That’s not important right now Cecil, what’s important is getting you fixed up. Pupil response is fine, your brain didn’t get scrambled. Your nose needs some fixing, though. Come to my office.” Teddy helped Cecil up and gave him some gauze to hold to his face.

“Sit down… lemme see here…” said Teddy as he took his light and examined Cecil’s nose. “Swollen like a balloon. I… think we should wait for the swelling to go down so the damage can be seen easier. Plus, this is a bowling alley, not a medical facility. Tough luck, Cecil. Just put some ice on it and see someone in a day or two.”

“Thanks, Teddy…” said Cecil, sulking out of the office. Teddy tossed him a cold pack.

“Keep it. I… hope you’ll be alright, Cecil.”

Cecil spent the rest of the evening laying around in pain, holding ice to his face. He eventually went to bed in an attempt to get some rest. These blackouts had left him tired and achy for some reason. Maybe I should get an appointment with the doctor. Or the jam salesman, perhaps, he thought before going to sleep.

Cecil’s morning went as normally as normal could be. The shrill cries of various sand-monsters in his backyard woke him up at the crack of dawn. After chasing them off his property with his broom, he kneeled at the blood stone circle in his kitchen, still wearing his purple collared pyjamas, to begin the day with a short devotional.

And that’s when he blacked out once again. This time he caught a glimpse of the outside of the library, and then the interior of the Arby’s. After another period of sensing nothing but void, he awakened on a cold linoleum floor. In pain. A lot of pain.

“Cecil! Oh god… it’s you! How is it you? What? I…” he heard the voice of Carlos say. Cecil grimaced and groaned in pain as Carlos tried his best to gently roll him over. “Cecil… you just… smashed through the window… but… you didn’t look like you. Your eyes… they were all white. You… you could float… oh man… there’s blood everywhere…”

“C-Carlos?” Cecil groaned, looking up at his boyfriend, “Carlos… w-what are you implying? Augh… it hurts… help me…”

“Whatever. We’ll address that later. Let’s just… get you cleaned up.” He gently lifted Cecil in his arms, grimacing when Cecil did from the pain. He made his way back into the lab, cleared off the top of a lab bench, and laid Cecil on it.

“Hang in there, Cecil…” said Carlos as he frantically gathered medical supplies, “I’m not a doctor, but I’ve got enough knowledge in advanced first aid…” he rummaged through a large first aid kit and laid out bandages, antiseptic, a pair of forceps, a cold pack, and many more items. He folded up an extra lab coat and placed it behind Cecil’s head, then proceeded to put on some blue medical gloves.

“Alright, Cecil, let’s just have a look…” he said in a calm, yet concerned voice, “glass… some much glass, oh Cecil…” Cecil had suffered a large number of cuts from smashing through the window and whatever else he did before ending up here, many with glass embedded in the wound. As Carlos continued assessing his boyfriend’s condition, he noticed that Cecil’s left arm was very swollen. He gently brought Cecil’s arm over, which caused Cecil to flinch.

“Sorry... just hold still, I gotta feel this… I’m worried it’s broken…” Carlos felt the injured arm until Cecil couldn’t help but convulse in pain.

“I’m not sure if that’s broken or not… oh dear… but your nose does seem broken, however. Ok, we’ll deal with bones later… I need to take care of the bleeding… you okay, Cecil?”

“H-hanging in there, Carlos…” he whimpered. Carlos looked a Cecil with concern and compassion before getting the gauze and other supplies ready. After sterilizing the forceps, he’s decided to start with removing a larger shard of glass.

“Okay, Cecil... this is going to hurt...” he said, taking Cecil’s right arm. He picked up the forceps. “Hold still... deep breath...” Cecil followed that instruction, drawing air in and holding it as Carlos swiftly worked the piece of glass out of the wound. After dropping it aside on a metal tray, he quickly applied pressure to the cut.

“Okay… two more. These ones aren’t as big.” He quickly removed the next two pieces of glass and worked to get the bleeding under control. Cecil whimpered.

“Hey, deep breaths. I know it hurts. I’m going to get you to the hospital after I clean and bandage the worst of these cuts, okay?” Carlos put his hand on Cecil’s chest. “Breathe.”

Cecil nodded and followed the instruction to take a deep breath through the pain. It hurt quite a lot. Everywhere. His arms, his head, his legs, everything. As Carlos kept one comforting hand on Cecil’s chest, he used the other to gather some gauze. He took it away to soak the cotton in antiseptic.

“This will sting, hold still…” Carlos gently cleaned the wounds, pausing whenever Cecil winced or made a sound of discomfort. Eventually, he had gently cleaned all the cuts he could see and had covered them.

“Okay, you did really good… I’ll just put that arm in a sling and we’ll get you to the hospital. Come on, I’ll help you down from there.” Carlos proceeded to help Cecil sit up, then move to a stool next to the lab bench.

“I’ll just take your arm… now Cecil… I just want to know… what’s happening to you?”

“I started blacking out and waking up in different- ouch! -places,” Cecil explained, flinching when Carlos moved his arm the wrong way. “Sometimes catching glimpses of random locations… I always seem to be floating. And… at a high speed…”

Carlos gently tied up the injured arm in the sling. “Yeah… yeah you were. Flying, I mean. Your eyes… they were all white… no pupils. It took me a second to realize it was you… but… not you. You scared me. Cecil… I don’t think I even have to ask, but are cases of… possession common here?”

“It happens, for sure,” said Cecil, “but- ah! Easy there! I keep myself protected with blood stone rituals and whatever… oh no…”

“Can whatever is possessing you be driven out? Like… is there a cure?”

“Depends on the thing, I guess…”

“Alright. Maybe the doctors at the hospital know more than I do. But we gotta stop whatever this thing is from just… completely wrecking your body.”

Cecil nodded. “But I mean… without a host, wouldn’t it die? Or possess someone else?”

“Cecil, don’t sympathize with whatever is possessing you, please. I’m sure they’ll kill it before it affects anyone else. Or something. I don’t exactly know how these things work yet. Let’s just get to the hospital, shall we?”

Carlos helped Cecil into the passenger seat of his car, then quickly drove off to Night Vale General Hospital. After paying a parking fee of five tears, he helped Cecil into the emergency department.

It was a busy night; they were in for a long wait. “Hour and a half, at least,” said the tired triage nurse at the desk, “take a seat.” Cecil sat down. He was shaking a little, and Carlos noticed this.

“You okay?” said Carlos, putting his hand on Cecil’s shoulder.

“Oh? Me?” Cecil then sighed. “Yeah… yeah I never liked hospitals. They’re too bright. They smell too clean. There’s too many machines. They also smell of the miasma of disease. I don’t know which is stronger.”

“Ah. Yeah, I know it can be uncomfortable. This is my kind of element, of course, working in science, but I can see how it’s unsettling to someone who works in a cozy, dark recording booth. I’m here, Cecil. Just focus on me.”

Cecil closed his eyes and nodded. He held Carlos’ hand as he settled in for the long wait.

About 15 minutes had passed when Cecil blacked out again. This blackout was very brief this time. When he woke up he was in a hospital bed. His whole body felt numb and heavy, as if he had had a couple drinks. Carlos looked into his eyes.

“Cuh… Carlos?” He groaned, “Carlos… what… happened…”

“You, uh… you had another episode. They sedated you. Fixed you up. Got rid of that demon that had taken up residence. Put it in a demon-proof jar for me to study. I’m glad you’re awake,” Carlos explained gently, “I gotcha. You’re going to be alright.”

“Thank you… Carlos…” said Cecil weakly. Carlos held on to Cecil’s limp hand.

“Don’t mention it. Now get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

#welcome to night vale #wtnv cecil #cecil x carlos #wtnv whump #whump fic #possession tw #possession whump

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multibug · 4 years

Text

3: flowers (ladrien)

AO3

The florist closes in ten, Adrien’s just under twelve minutes away and the Gorilla is currently doing 112 kmh through the bustling streets of Paris to get him there before the store locks.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thinks to himself, window rolled down and his head sticking out the window a bit unsafely.

The Gorilla glances at him through the rear-view mirror and grunts.

Adrien knows he means business from the tone of it and settles into cushioned seat of the Mercedes-Benz. He rests his folded arms over the soft flap of the window, chin atop them.

Paris flutters by in its pristine glory, shops upon shops, bakeries upon bakeries, people upon people. Lots of people that Adrien studies casually as he taps his fingers idly against the warm metal of the car.

An orange-pink sky is slowly being tinkered away by midnight blue, a waning crescent tickling the edges of the sun out of view. Lingering remnants of summer and warm fill the air, clinging to his skin, his face, the interior leather seats, even the flaps on the window.

17:55 the clock reads, tick tick tick edging into Adrien’s anxiety like a knife.

He knows the Gorilla can’t drive faster. He understands that it’s his fault for taking his sweet time dressing and undressing in different outfits. Plagg reminds him of it with a small snicker that’s not heard to his bodyguard.

Max has told him time and time again that statistically speaking, the better chance he has of woo’ing a potential partner is to show he cares. Now he wonders whether his messily slicked-back hair, white button-up tucked into navy shorts and birkenstocks is overkill.

Too late to go back and change, so Adrien rolls with it, plucking a loose strand of hair off his forehead before leaving it with a pout. ‘No matter how much gel I put in it, that piece always lets gravity win.”

His comment pulls an unusual grin out of the Gorilla.

17:59 and the Gorilla is skidding to a stop, Adrien hauling his ass out of the car and into the aesthetically-pleasing flower shop. Flowers upon flowers, beautifully-colored ones that are vibrant against the shops dark paneling fill his vision.

It’s overwhelming and his brain hurts from overstimulation.

An elder florist dressed in a light and airy skirt turns the corner and shocks Adrien enough for him to nearly fall over, steadying himself on the counter closest to him. It’s filled with bright colored peonies and hydrangeas he almost knocks off, fumbling to catch the beautifully arranged assortments.

“You look lost,” the florist quips with a hint of amusement on her otherwise stoic face.

“I am in desperate need of help,” Adrien replies, eyes wide as he scans the excessive amount of flowers and arrangements and it’s all too much oh my god.

Said florist tilts her head to the side, tapping a patient foot on the ground. “Are you looking to send threatening flowers? Because that’s not really my thing,” she pauses, leaning in with twinkling eyes. “If you pay me a little extra, though…”

“No, oh god no, it’s just—It’s a special day for this girl I really care about and I want to show her how much I care, if that makes sense.” Shuffingly awkwardly in place, Adrien’s hands twist into one another to stop himself from touching his neck. “I don’t want to go overboard either, even though I think she deserves every flower in this shop.”

“If you’re not careful enough, you might accidentally send her threatening flowers with that mindset,” Agnés—her name tag reads as she approaches him—tells him with slanted eyebrows. “Alright, lover boy. I’ve got you covered.”

Please still be here, please still be here, please—

Oh dieu merci, Adrien thinks as he slows his breathing from running across the Champ de Mars. Decorations scatter around the vicinity, Ladybug and Chat Noir themed merchandise lining the park in mobile kiosks. Balloons with their faces being held by small, crying children with overjoyous parents.

Heroes’ Day is a time of celebration, filled with joy and love and happiness that warms Adrien to the brim. Him and Ladybug, plus all of the temporary miraculous holders, share in festivities that reminds the population of Paris that their savours are still human, like them.

The extra time spent with Ladybug each year is an added bonus.

Adrien left the celebrations a little early to find the Gorilla, grab his flower for Ladybug, and take off into a sprint across the grassed field behind tour Eiffel to catch her before she left.

Ladybug rounds the corner after signing a civilian’s signature book, clearly ready to leave, when Adrien calls her name loud enough for her to hear him. “Ladybug!”

They practically bump into each other as they both try to round the corner synchronously. Ladybug’s eyes widen as she takes note of him and his trajectory, digging her feet into the ground to stop the seemingly inevitable crash.

It doesn’t happen.

Before either of them can ram into one another, Adrien’s free hand lands on Ladybug’s shoulder and halts their movements, warmth flooding to his cheeks.

His hands burn, his cheeks burn, his whole body burns now that he’s here.

‘Adrien Agreste?” Her voice is stricken and slightly shrill, so unlike the Ladybug he knows and has come to love that he almost—keyword being almost—laughs.

“H-Hi Ladybug,” he says, dumbly, cursing himself for acting so starstruck around her. Get ahold of yourself, idiot, this is your partner for crying-out-loud!

“Hello,” she replies a bit unsurely, her own cheeks matching her suit color. “Is everything okay?”

No. You’re too pretty for me to think clearly. “Yes. I have something for you,” Adrien spits out, cringing internally at how blunt he is sometimes. “I wanted to get you something for Heroes’ Day—”

A smile grows on her face, a slow rise akin to a blooming flower. “That’s so sweet, Adrien! You really didn’t have to!”

Shrugging his shoulders, the hand behind his back appears in front of him, showcasing his flower for her to see.

It’s a red hibiscus with coral undertones, so vibrant in color it rivals that of her suit. The flower is encased in a small paper cup with intertwining colorful designs on it, soil and all. “I didn’t want to buy a pot for it because I wanted you to find one that suited your room, or something,” he trails off dumbly at the expression on her face, slightly panicking. “If you don’t like it, I can always get you another? I mean, the florist I went to doesn’t open until tomorrow, but—”

“—Adrien,” Ladybug interrupts, her hand finding his bicep with a pretty smile on her face that has Adrien’s stomach soaring. “Please, it’s perfect. Don’t you take this flower away from me.”

Adrien chokes at her words, eyes dipping to glance at her hand before they raise to meet hers, except—

She’s leaning in.

Time stops. Adrien’s lucky his grip on the cup is tight as Ladybug’s soft, plump lips graze his cheek. Her lips touch the corner of his mouth and it sends shocks through his body as she takes the paper cup from him. “Thank you. This is one of the nicest gifts anyone’s ever gotten me.”

“Am I dead?” His brain-to-mouth filter is gone, eyes widening in mortification at her giggle—the cutest giggle he’s ever heard.

“Not yet, no,” Ladybug tells him through her quiet laughs, blinking up at him through her eyelashes. “As much as I would love to stay and chat—”

Heh. Chat.

“—I must be going now. Thank you again for the flower, Adrien. It’s really lovely.”

With a surge of confidence and determination, Adrien gently grabs one of Ladybug’s gloved hands in his. Lips graze over the top of her hand, across the ridge of her knuckle and the dip where her fingers meet her hand. “Get home safe,” he whispers, smiling stupidly at her.

“I—I,” Ladybug stutters, her eyes wide and mouth ajar. “I’ve gotta go,” she squeaks out, quickly but carefully ripping her hand out of his and yo-yo’ing away.

“You two are disgusting,” Plagg grumbles in Adrien’s shirt pocket, face-palming with his tiny hands.

(Later on, Marinette buys a pot and decorates it with her paints and keeps the flower tucked away in Tikki’s garden so it lives longer).

((Tikki tells her to google the flower and Marinette has a near stroke when she realizes the symbolizing behind Adrien giving it to her)).

(((Ladybug shows up at Adrien’s house and kisses those same words into his mouth, forehead, and cheeks until he believes her))).

#adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #miraculous ladybug #ladrien #lovesquarefluffweek2020 #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #mine #yes okay it's a little late agrkeogarke let me live

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oneofyatosfollowers · 4 years

Text

Yatori Week Day 2- Reunion/Fate

@yatoriweek2020

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25401826/chapters/61657333

Fanfic: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13648502/1/Yatori-Week-2020

If Yato had to pick a point in his life he would rather forget, it was high school. Looking back, high school did nothing for him. He went right into work after he graduated, and his failing grades only served as fuel for his father's rage. He didn't make friends, save for Kazuma, and he was generally disliked by the entire student body for causing trouble and being all around frightening. It was a dark time for Yato all around and despite the fact that he knows better now and he's changed, didn't mean he felt the need to prove it to people who never cared.

There was really no reason for him to go to his highschool reunion. Kazuma said he would be there, with that vicious high-school sweetheart of his, but confessed he would understand if Yato didn't want to go. Not that Yato wasn't proud of his life now, he was finally safe and living fairly comfortably. And it was safe to assume his classmates had changed too, not that they were ever particularly mean to him.

Despite all that, Yato found himself standing just outside the door to the gymnasium, waiting for Kazuma to show up with the witch as his date. He looked down at himself, Kazuma had lent him a clean button-up and shoes, something Yato's son scoffed at when he showed them. Yato was embarrassed to admit his kid helped tie his tie, insisting on using the cologne of his choice that he would apply himself. Originally, his kid picked out a darker outfit, a mature version of the clothes Yato used to wear so everyone could see he was still a badass and "not a total embarrassment" as his kid so lovingly put it.

"I don't see what's wrong with wearing mostly black," his son shrugged as Yato buttoned up his shirt, "it's not like you're a pillar of the community now."

"Come on, Yukine. I'm a much better person now, trust me," Yato looked at the teen, "Besides, if they're dumb enough to think that then who am I to correct them." He grinned as Yukine scoffed again and rolled his eyes, keeping the smile as his kid eyed the navy strip of cloth. What was he thinking? Adopting a teenager with such sass.

"Seriously?" Yukine had asked when Yato wrapped the tie around his neck.

"Yes, seriously," Yato said back, scowling at the snake he tried to wrangle. Yukine stepped forward.

"Is this to piss off Bishamon? Because you promised Kazuma you would stop picking fights with his girlfriend." Yukine reminded his dad as he searched how to tie a tie.

"No it's not to piss off the skank," Yato said, squirming as the real reason began to bubble up his throat.

"Then why the charade? Kazuma already knows what you're like and it's not like he cares what his former-student council members think of you."

"Hiyori's gonna be there," Yato muttered with a red face.

"Hiyori?" Yukine parroted, "Who's Hiyori?" When his kid looked up and saw his face, his fingers stopped and his eyes grew big with understanding.

Who's Hiyori? That was the golden question. Hiyori Iki was, well, a normal girl. In highschool she didn't stand out too much; she had average grades and slightly above average looks. She hung out with two other girls in a group of three as most people do and she was never involved in any clubs or activities. In class she sat normally, with normal appliances, and raised her hand and answered questions just as any other student. How did Yato know all this? Because he was in love with her. A love that turned him into a bit of a stalker in highschool, another one of his awkward quirks.

Their lockers were put next to each other when they started freshman year and remained that way until graduation. Being the closet romantic that he was, Yato thought it was fate, and quickly fell head-over-heels with the pretty girl. The reason might have been because she extended the olive branch first, introducing herself confidently and shaking his hand without reservation. But either way, Yato talked to her every chance he got, going to his locker between every period even when he knew he wasn't going to class. He helped fix her locker and other things now and again too. On the rare occasion they shared a class, he made sure to have a folder and get there in time to walk with her. Once their second year rolled around, Yato had mastered memorizing when she would go to her locker and spreading it out so she wouldn't get suspicious. He was also a master of making her laugh once a day.

But that was it. He never confessed or anything grand, never hung out with her away from their lockers. So it was ridiculous that he could safely say he was in love with her. What was even more ridiculous was that she was the main reason he came to tonight. Not because he planned on talking to her, no, no, no. If all went as planned she would have no idea he even came. But he had to see her, because he still thought about her from time to time and hearing about her made him blush like an adolescent. He came today to see if it was still love. If he was truly hopeless and was cursed to be hung up on someone who probably didn't even remember him.

"Not that I'm going to talk to her if it is," Yato muttered to himself. He nearly leaped out of his skin when the metal door unlocked and creaked open. This door was in the back of the gym, under a single lightbulb where no one would see, but clearly he should have hid somewhere else.

"Yato?" Kazuma's brown head poked around the door.

"You scared me," Yato sighed but gave his friend a smile.

"I knew you'd be here," Kazuma said as he looked Yato up and down. This was where Yato would go to smoke while he played hooky, but he kicked the habit long ago and wiggled his empty fingers at Kazuma to prove it.

"How was your trip, man?" Yato held out his hand for Kazuma to take it, pulling him in.

"It was good!" Kazuma said in the hug while they patted backs, "she, uh. She said yes." Kazuma spoke like a sigh only to gurgle out a noise when Yato pushed him back by his shoulders.

"You're engaged!" Yato exulated, "Congratulations!"

"Thank-you-Ya-to," Kazuma tried to speak while Yato shook him back and forth. Air was forced out of his lungs as Yato stopped him and instead threw his arm around Kazuma's neck.

"I didn't think you had it in ya," Yato smirked at his friend who only sighed.

"There's no way I would have been able to do it without you," Kazuma's doubt was evident, even in his happiest moment. Yato brushed it off like always.

"Oh please, I supported you but I certainly wasn't in the Bahamas with you. Not that I don't want to know everything." This got Kazuma to laugh as he shrugged off Yato's arm.

"I'll only tell you about it if you come in," he watched Yato grimace and lean back against the wall, "they have drinks."

"Like alcohol?" Yato challenged.

"Yes, alcohol." Kazuma was already DD for his fiance, might as well watch Yato since they were cut from the same cloth. Yato made a noise of debate, looking at the ground so he didn't see Kazuma's look of pity.

"She's not here yet." Kazuma said.

"She's not?" Yato shot up, "Is she coming?" His voice held desperation. He didn't even acknowledge the fact Kazuma already figured out his plan for being here, or even who "she" was. Not that it was hard.

"No, she's not. But it's still kinda early and there's enough people in there where she wont see you when she comes." Kazuma spit out a laugh when Yato visibly relaxed. Happier than ever, Yato followed his friend inside.

The gym was decorated in white and blue ribbons and balloons. White table cloths lined the walls with cushioned chairs while the center was left open for dancing and mingling. A DJ was pumping out music towards the back while a long refreshment table lined the opposite wall. As Kazuma led him to the drinks, Yato scanned the faces of the crowd, recognizing maybe a quarter of them but hardly coming up with any names. When they neared the drinks, Yato spotted a familiar blonde head and groaned audibly.

"Be nice," Kazuma tried, but it was too late. Miss Fiance turned to smile at her significant other only to see the bane of her existence next to him.

"You're here?" Bishamon growled at Yato who scowled back. She was over-dressed as always, not only wearing a gown but also having a full-on hair due while decked-out in jewelry. She's lucky Kazuma wore a tux to match.

"Yeah, I used to be a student here."

"Hardly." She crossed her arms as Kazuma stepped between them and put in an order. Despite her previous irritation, Bishamon was more than happy to tell the story of their vacation while clinging to her lover's arm. It was clear she was trying to make Yato jealous while showing off her engagement ring, so he took great pleasure in informing her he helped pick it out.

"So, how's Yukine?" Kazuma quickly while Bishamon glared daggers at the both of them.

"He's good," Yato could talk about his kid for hours, "school's going good and his team's on track to the championship."

"That's great!" Kazuma cheered. Bishamon stating her compliment too.

"Yeah, he's really excited and I can't wait take more pictures- oh fuck." Yato's voice died immediately.

"I hope you don't talk like that in front Yukine!" Bishamon gasped. Kazuma jumped to calm down another argument- knowing how territorial his friend was about his child- only for Yato to be frozen in what looked to be shock. With a prediction in mind, Kazuma looked towards the main entrance and locked on to "she."

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Bishamon deadpanned only for her fiance to tap her arm.

"Miss Iki's here," he subtly informed her, pointing to the woman in question. Bishamon's face whipped to the man in front of her doing a wax-statue impression.

"You're still into her?" Her shrill question when unheard as Yato fell into tunnel vision.

The room stopped, the world stopped, any other existence in the room blurred into nothing leaving only Hiyori Iki. All sounds and flashing lights faded leaving only his hammering heart and the angelic lighting that seemed to surround her. Her dress was burgundy, hugging her sides nicely and stopping mid-thigh. In highschool her hair was rather long, brushing just above her waist, but tonight she had it in a bun while strands framed her face.

"Fuck, Kazuma," Yato swallowed, "It's love. I'm in love."

She walked through the cheesy balloon entrance with a wide smile, looking at the gym in awe and nostalgia. He pitied his past self for never seeing the woman with black heels on, knowing the image would stay with him forever. Next to her was one of her two friends and their boyfriend, the same one from highschool. They chatted for a bit before the third best friend made her appearance for a hug, an unfamiliar young man in tow.

"She came alone," Kazuma said, happy but surprised. Yato swallowed thickly at the thought, eye raking the woman up and down as he admired her change from cute teen to beautiful woman. What the hell? Was it not enough for the puberty truck to hit her once, it had to go in reverse and hit her again after graduation?

"No, she didn't," Bishamon asked as someone stepped through the door and made his way towards Hiyori. It only took one second for Yato to plummet from cloud nine as recognition crawled through his chest, dark and green.

"Fujisaki," Yato growled at the same time as Bishamon. He was the head of the newspaper who tended to write mean gossip rags about the people he didn't like. Yato and Bishamon were some of those people.

"Well hold on, just cause he's with them doesn't mean they're together," Kazuma urged, "They could have just met in the parking lot!" His explanation fell on deaf ears as his love and his friend glared at the poor guy who happens to stand much too close to Hiyori.

Yato was having trouble getting his body under control, his heart and stomach kept doing somersaults while sweat everywhere. He felt the other two give him looks of pity, Kazuma reaching out to tap Yato's shoulder. Jolting out of his trance, Yato's face whipped to them- the intensity of his expression causing them to flinch- he then looked to the drink in his hand. He wasn't sure what Kazuma gave him, but it smelled strong enough, so Yato chugged the entire plastic cup.

"Oh my," Bishamon winced at him while he chugged.

"Y-Yato please, the food hasn't been served yet," Kazuma reached to stop him, but the empty cup was crushed like it was a rave and tossed in the trash.

"You have to talk to her," Yato insisted to Bishamon. Her brows shot to her forehead before she scoffed.

"I am not talking you up to Hiyori. Especially if you plan on getting wasted."

"No! No I am not talking to her," Yato said, horrified, "I just want to know how she is." He twiddled his fingers as Bishamon regarded him.

"You mean you want me to find out if she's single."

"I want to know if she's happy." Yato spoke to the floor. He missed the looks they gave him as he watched his thumbs to a dance. Out of a new habit, Yato raked his gaze over the growing crowd. He spotted Hiyori taking a seat at the table with her friends, Fujisaki pushing in her chair before sitting next to her.

"Fine," Bishamon shrugged, pulling Yato out of his scowl.

"Viina?" Kazuma questioned his fiancé as she crossed her arms.

"What? Hiyori and I got along great, I quite like her. I was planning on talking to her anyway," Bishamon said with a shrug. With a flick of hair over her shoulder, Bishamon stalked her walk across the floor like she owned it. The boys watched her go, Yato chugging only half his cup while Kazuma sent smirks at his former classmates while wiggling his ring finger.

Hiyori must have felt some sweaty, former-delinquent staring at her cause those gorgeous eyes turned to him. Yato felt his muscles lock up again as the world became irrelevant once again. This time was worse, much worse, but so much better. Her eyes were still the same as they were years ago, big and brown. It was clear she recognized him, but Yato couldn't tell if that made him scared or elated. He didn't know what to do, he couldn't remember how normal people responded with his brain short-circuiting. Just as he had half a mind to wave, Hiyori sent a smile that pierced his heart like an arrow. Yato was left gaping like a fish while another girl grabbed Hiyori's attention and the moment was gone.

"Let's get a table," Kazuma put a hand on Yato's shoulder and led him towards a table barley in sight of Miss Iki.

Dinner was served but Yato spent most of the time drooling over Hiyori while she chatted. Bishamon had been able to talk with Hiyori before dinner was handed out. She came back saying Hiyori was doing very well as a strong, independent woman. Much to Yato's utter delight. Feeling like he accomplished something, Yato tried to leave before the food, but Kazuma convinced him to stay with drinks.

Now, Yato was left alone at an empty table, flicking his phone open and closed as Kazuma waltzed his tispy fiance across the floor. At some point the lights were turned down low as colorful spotlights danced across the former students. Opening his phone again, Yato looked at the last handful of text messages to his kid. Yukine gave his congratulations when Yato told him about the engagement, and informed Yato that he was fine staying over a friend's house. The kid tried to convince his dad to send a picture of the woman in question, only to be firmly shut down. Apparently that meant the kid was ignoring him now, so Yato was left alone. As usual.

With a sigh, Yato pushed his chair out and braced himself as his vision swam. It was hard to focus on how many cups were scattered around the table, and how many were his, but once he could manage his balance, Yato slinked along the wall. He moved through the darkened room unnoticed like a ghost. He didn't go to any school dances but he imagined this is what would have happened. Especially with Hiyori being swept across the floor by her definitely-date Fujisaki.

Not in any state to drive home, Yato let himself wander around the empty school, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top of his shirt. The rest of the building was much cooler, lights mostly turned off and hallways empty. Yato passed by his favorite room, the art room, and took a glance at the newspaper to see it cover much lighter topics.

Head much more clear, Yato found himself coming up to a very familiar area: his locker. He let himself stand in front of it, noticing it lacked his graffiti but was pretty much the same. Out of habit he looked to his right, Hiyori's former locker just as normal. He let his fingers run over the cool metal, giving it a shake to see his fix-job still working.

"I don't know why he didn't show up, mom! He said he would fix it!" Hiyori's voice echoed from behind Yato, scaring him out of his wits. He panicked as her heels clipped closer and closer from the hallway just behind him, their lockers were a little off to the right of the opening so he could still try to leave before she came. He could still run away.

"I'm still at my reunion so I have to find someone to fix it tomorrow. I'm sorry, mother." Hiyori's disappointed voice stopped Yato in his tracks. When they were younger, Yato would never talk about his family, so he tended to steer clear of those types of conversations, even with Hiyori. On the off time she would talk about her home life, it was usually about her mother.

"Okay. Yeah, okay. Yes, I love you too. Bye," Hiyori hung up and stopped walking. Her face was one of pleasant surprise. Yato was in the same stance he often was while he waited for her. For a moment, she was in a school uniform with a backpack on her shoulder and the boy in front of her was leaning up against the locker with a black jacket and piercings. She blinked and it was gone, instead stood a filled-out young man, in an outfit very different from what he normally wears. It almost made her laugh.

"Hey," Yato greeted quietly.

"Yato," Hiyori breathed like a sigh, already feeling herself smile. Yato grinned back, and although the smile wasn't nearly as sharp as it used to be, the action lit up his blue eyes all the same.

"How have you been?" Yato asked with pink cheeks, "What brings you all the way out here?"

"I've been good and I can ask you the same question," Hiyori stopped directly in front of him, "All thought I remember you saying you don't like crowds and I figured you might come here. To tell you the truth, I wanted to come here too." Hiyori let her eyes fall to their lockers, "Must be fate!" She flashed him a dazzling smile, sending his heart soaring. It hit hard that she remembered he hated crowds and that she wanted to come here too. Did she notice he left? While she was dancing with him?

Yato put on a smile too, a real one that had Hiyori stall for a moment. They shared a laugh together, Hiyori leaning up against her locker next to him. It took a couple moments to get it together, their giddy smiles and breathy laughter starting up everytime they looked at each other.

"So-"

"-How-"

"-Ah-"

"-No-"

"-You first-"

"-I insist-" Their words kept overlapping, Yato and Hiyori laughing harder and harder each time they tried to out-wit each other. At some point during their laughter, they ended up leaning against each other.

"So, are you a big time doctor yet?" Yato said after he caught his breath.

"No, not yet. I'm still in medical school," she looked up at him, "What about you?"

"Oh, I'm a handyman." Yato spoke as confidently as he could, fighting the insignificance he felt.

"Really? You are?" Hiyori sounded happy, not at all under the impression he was jobless. God he loved her.

"Yeah," he said, embarrassed, "after highschool I tried to work several different jobs all the time, as well as doing little fixing jobs around town. Turns out I'm a jack-of-all-trades and word spread. So I'm my own little business." Yato beamed when she gave a little cheer. She was always able to make him feel good about himself, something that always seemed impossible.

"Can you do roofs?" Hiyori asked, excited.

"Sure can!" Yato reached into his pocket for a business card out of habit, only to remember he had none. But before he could say anything, Hiyori stopped him.

"Oh! Um. I can just put in your number," she held up her phone, "If that's okay?"

"Ye-Yeah! Yeah! That's fine! Great even," Yato cursed himself as he fumbled out his phone. Flipping it open, Yato couldn't help the utter thrill of getting her number, only to stop when she let out a weird sound.

"What's wrong?" Yato looked up from his phone.

"Uh, who's that?" Hiyori was staring at his wallpaper with a funny expression. Specifically, a blonde teenage boy in a school uniform with an angry blush. Millions of possible assumptions flew through his mind, all of them having Yato sputtering.

"He's my son!" Yato blurted out, confusing the pretty woman further, "I mean, I adopted him when he was 10- he's 14 now- so he knows I'm not his biological dad! But, uh, yeah, that's my kid. His name is Yukine." Yato prayed that cleared up any misunderstandings, tilting his phone so Hiyori could get a better look. He knows having a son isn't something young, single women look for- it's something he's come to understand from experience- and as much as Hiyori will always hold his heart, the kid comes first.

"He's," Hiyori looked up at him, "so cute!" Her smile grew along with Yato's who laughed.

"Isn't he though? But despite his good looks, he's got a spit-fire personality!"

"Well, he sounds like your son," Hiyori smiled. The way Yato spoke about his kid, with such adoration and admiration, was heartwarming. Her complement wasn't missed by Yato, who choked off and sported a blush similar to the boy in the photo. The only difference was: Yato's face held such bone-deep relief. For some reason, it hurt Hiyori, but she pushed it aside to examine later.

"Okay! Just let me know when and were," Yato said as he typed in her number, "we can talk about price later too."

"Sounds great!" Hiyori bit her lip as she looked up at him, heat spread across her cheeks. They were bent together in a darkened school hallway, talking and smiling at each other as if they were gossiping. Just like they used too. The only difference was the distant smell of alcohol coming from the both of them.

"So," Yato scratched the back of his neck, "are you going to be there?" He tried, eyes widening as her face grew red. Maybe it was the alcohol but Yato was feeling brave. Hiyori was too.

"Well, I can be," Hiyori spoke softly, eyes flickering from his to the floor and back again.

"Not that you have too! If you don't want to, obviously!" Yato said, seeming to remember himself or the situation.

"No, no! I want to!" Hiyori insisted, just as flustered. He misread her tone but her assurance calmed him down and he gave an awkward smile.

"Cool."

"Cool." Hiyori took a deep breath and leaned back against her locker, Yato did the same. A charged quiet filled the hall as bass pulsed from somewhere to in the school. The DJ's quiet announcement echoed that there was a half hour left in the night and Yato- for once- didn't want to leave the school.

Even though he would be seeing her in the future, there was something special about tonight that Yato never wanted it to end. He desperately tried to think of something to say. He wanted to ask her about her school, her future plans, what was the deal with Fujisaki, and how many kids she wanted to have. Part of the DJ's announcement came to mind and he began working up the courage.

"So um," Hiyori spoke suddenly, "you said you adopted Yukine?"

"Yeah," Yato felt his heart droop.

"Can I ask why?" Hiyori turned to look at Yato as he stared straight ahead. He's never told anyone about it before, barely gave Kazuma any details, and the idea of telling Hiyori was tempting. Back in highschool, she often commented on the amount of injuries he always had, thinking it came from picking fights. But the thought of his kid, a former neighbor of the apartment Yato ran away too, was too much to describe.

"That's a story for another day," Yato sighed. A frown tugged at his lips when she hummed an acknowledgement with a look of such disappointment. He mentioned the kid wasn't his biological child, so he wondered the reason.

"So," Hiyori started again. Her eyes searched the tiles for what to say as she worried about her lower lip with her teeth. Yato watched the action as he waited.

"Does anyone else help you take care of him?" She tried, words choppy and unsure. The questioning look Hiyori gave him, embarrassed and brimming with curiosity, startled another laugh out of him. He was relieved, delighted in fact, that she was asking. Or trying too. If only she knew he struggles.

"I'm single," Yato stated after he caught his breath, snorting when she looked caught, the red of her skin stretching to her collar bones.

"O-oh! Right," Hiyori smiled, laughing it off as best she could. Yato smiled with her, his happiness dimming a bit.

"What about you? I never pegged you as a Fujisaki girl?"

"I'm not!" She spoke with such conviction it surprised the both of them. She immediately tried to backtrack, waving her hands while Yato looked at her with great interest.

"We talked a little bit after graduation but that didn't amount to anything. Then, after they sent out the invitations for the reunion, he messaged me and asked if we could go together. I agreed to meet him here, since I was already going with my friend, and that's about it," she sighed, "he's trying, but I, uh," Hiyori tampered off and Yato made a noise of understanding.

"I see."

"Yeah." They both looked towards the ceiling, Yato trying and failing to damper the massive grin on his face. To make matters better, the heavy beat from down the hall softened to something sweeter, just as the DJ announced. Kicking himself off the lockers, Yato stood in front of her and extended a hand. He had always been one to ride his luck out till the bitter end and now was the perfect time to throw caution to the wind.

"Since he's not your date, may I have this dance?" Yato nodded his head in the direction of the gym, watching Hiyori look and listen for a moment before showing him one of her breathtaking smiles.

"I thought you'd never ask," she took his hand and laughed when he tugged her forward. Hiyori once slipped to him that her mother enrolled her in manners classes, something he often teased her about. Meanwhile Yato had worked as a cleaner at a dance studio a couple years ago and picked up a couple things. He said as much.

"What a coincidence," Hiyori hummed with a teasing quirk of the brows.

"Must be fate," Yato teased back, weaving some affection in his tone that had Hiyori smiling softly. They danced through one more song before the music cut out entirely, the DJ announcing his departure. Even so, they drifted into a sway.

"We should probably go," Hiyori hummed.

"Yeah," Yato agred. The night had been long and exciting, the adrenaline and starting to take its toll. Their swaying slowed into a lull and eventually to a stop. For a couple sweet moments, neither of them moved, until a piercing noise startled them apart.

Hiyori babbled our apologies as she pulled out her phone while Yato insisted it was fine. He watched her open some messages and tap away. Glancing over his shoulder, he wondered if he should just say his goodbyes and leave but she spoke up.

"Sorry about that, my friends are looking for me," Hiyori said.

"No that's fine! I mean you did kinda go missing," Yato's joke didn't go over too well so he soldiered past it, "it's fine. It's time to go anyway." He thumbed over his shoulder awkwardly, scuffing his feet as she bit her lip again. He stopped scotting away from her when she didn't move, face troubled with disappointment.

"I'm really sorry, I don't have to- I mean I-" she stepped forward and Yato felt happiness spread through his veins.

"It's fine, really," he gave her a reassuring smile, "I'm going to see you soon anyway. This isn't goodbye." It was true, now that they were reunited he wasn't going to run away. Not again.

"That's right! I'll text you!" Hiyori perked you, sharing his giddy smile. Unfortunately, their cars were parked in different places, so this is where they had to separate. Turning away, Yato tried to message his aching cheeks and debated how long he should wait to contact her.

"Yato!" She called from down the hall. He turned, not bothering to hide the grin still stuck on his face. She shared his expression, if not a bit more embarrassed.

"Listen, um, my brother has kids the same age as Yukine. So, if you wanted to bring him," Hiyori paused as her face softened, "I'd love to meet him." It was impossible to miss the way Yato's body filled with joy. Relief and hope made his eyes hot as he wanted to laugh and cry. How did he ever manage to walk away from someone who lifted the weights off his heart so easily.

"Oh he'll be there," Yato beamed, "I'm sure he'll love to meet you too." With a final wave and wide smiles, the two walked away with warmth and excitement filling them to the brim. Separating for now, and looking forward to the next time they meet.

#noragami #noragami manga #noragami fanfic #noragami fanfiction #yato #hiyori #Hiyori Iki #iki hiyori #yatori #yatori week #yatori week 2020

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mymelodyheart · 3 years

Text

Starting Over Chapter 1 ~The Birthday Party~

James Fraser peered through his front windshield into the sunlight and wished he was back in his apartment in Edinburgh. If his older sister Jenny hadn't called earlier to drag him out of his blissful, mind-numbing slumber and reminded him of his nephew's birthday, he would have been still in bed. Instead of his usual routine of sleeping until past midday, eating junk food and washing it down with beer, playing Xbox and going back to sleep, he'd found himself putting on some fresh clothes and driving to Lallybroch. His sudden motivation had more to do with his nephew, wee Jamie. He wouldn't miss his birthday for the world, come rain or shine. Unfortunately, sunshine and children's parties seldom bode well for his mood while nursing a massive hangover.

It had been three months since he was last in Lallybroch - three months of avoiding his family and dodging questions about his future. He knew he'd hit his limit for grieving the untimely death of his career and feeling sorry for himself. It was time to face the world of adulting, and it was time for a change. But what change? A job in the Fraser distillery? It was his legacy and fallback plan, after all.

But he didn't need the money, and his brother-in-law, Ian Murray, was more than capable of overseeing its running. He considered going away to take an extended sabbatical and figure out what he wanted to do with life.

Not too long ago, he had been the nation's sports phenomenon until his sterling rugby career was prematurely cut short by a neck injury sustained during a Six Nations game against France. Later, it was discovered that he had a triple fracture of the vertebrae. Although he avoided any serious nerve damage and had worked with the best therapist in the country in an attempt to get back on the field, he'd been advised by his doctor and friend, Joe Abernathy to retire.

See it this way - you could have ended up in a wheelchair. Count your blessings, Jamie. You're still young, you have a fat bank account from your time in rugby and sponsorships, and the future is full of possibilities. How about going back to your roots? Like your family's distillery?

Jamie pushed himself out of his black BMW SUV with an annoyed grunt and grabbed the toy bicycle from the back seat of the car. He could hear the loud, shrill screams of children and smell burger meat grilling on the BBQ. Tugging on the collar of his T-shirt, he grimaced at the perspiration running down his back. It was a warm day, and already a headache was starting to grow. From his vantage point, he could see the flowers in the front of the manor house in full bloom and the path leading to the rear garden where the party was being held. Colourful birthday buntings were hung, and balloons decorated posts and hedges. Whether he wanted to be surrounded by people at that moment or not, coming home always hit him with a sense of nostalgia for a time when life was less complicated.

Tamping down the sudden urge to turn around and walk away, he thought of his wee nephew and kept moving. He wondered what kind of reception he would receive now that his identity had been stripped away. He'd always been a rugby player and the game ran in his veins. However, it appeared that the end of his career seemed to have cast a shadow over his every interaction. Ever since he retired, the topic of rugby had been delicately avoided anywhere he went. He thought if someone asked him about the weather or complimented on how good he looks one more time, he was going to implode.

Is this how it's going to be from now on? Pretending as though ten years of his rugby career never happened? What was the point of all the hard work then?

Jamie came to a stop when he reached the back of the house and took in the scene before him. A few adults were clustered around the makeshift buffet, and some congregated around the BBQ. There were probably around twenty children surrounding an entertainer who was dressed as a cartoon character from Paw Patrol. Conscious of his damp shirt sticking to him, he felt sorry for whoever was in the mascot outfit on this sweltering day. Somehow it made the state of his mood, and the complexity of his life seemed insignificant compared to the person earning a living dressed as a dog. Disgusted with his wallowing and despondency, he pulled himself together and took in a huge fortifying breath and braced himself.

"Uncle Jamie! Uncle Jamie! Ye're here!"

Jamie's gaze landed on the small figure hurtling towards him, hands flapping in the air. Putting the toy bike on the ground, he crouched down and grinned, opening his arms to catch his nephew. His lousy mood and discomfort dissipated all at once. " A chuilein ," he breathed, gripping the boy's small frame and lifting him in the air. He smelled of lollies, vanilla buttercream and baby sweat.

Wee Jamie squealed with delight as he was spun around. "I knew ye'd come, uncle! Ma said ye have lots and lots to do." As soon as he was released, he eyed the shiny red bike and let out a gasp. "Is that my pressie, uncle?"

He laughed. "Aye, that it is. Want to try it?"

"Ma! Look what I got from uncle Jamie!" his namesake shouted at the top of his lungs as he excitedly got on the bike.

Jamie watched his nephew pedal towards his mother to show off his latest acquisition.

Jenny turned, smiled and then she was coming towards him.

"Aah, the prodigal son is back home." Her face was flushed with heat, and her expression showed relief. He had been expecting reproof or anything of that sort. But his sister seemed genuinely happy to see him.

Guilt prickled his nerves. "Jenny ...can we talk?"

"Not now lad. We have plenty of time for that later. I'm just glad ye could make it." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek and stood back to get a better look at him, a platter dangling in one hand. "I need to get more buns in the kitchen. Can ye sort out the lass in the mascot costume for me? My purse is upstairs," she explained, jerking a thumb towards the children's entertainer.

"Aye, of course, I'll do that." There was a squeeze in his chest at the prospect of facing his whole family and explaining his disappearance. He knew it had to be done, and it was only a matter of time.

..........

What have I gotten myself into? Argh, Geillis you owe me big time!

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp rolled on her back in the grass, gasping for air as half a dozen five-year-olds piled on top of her. The impact of hyper and sugar-high children nearly dislodged her mask. She wished she was dressed as a clown or some other cartoon character instead, and one that didn't require her to put on such a weighty headgear. Alas, the birthday boy was a Paw Patrol fan.

Under different circumstances, she would have enjoyed the company of children, but she felt like dying from heat and exhaustion. Sweat trickled down the nape of her neck, and the fusty smell of her mascot headgear was making her nauseous. Without looking at the mirror, she knew her hair was an untamed mass of frizz thanks to the humidity.

Surprisingly, she hadn't collapsed from fatigue after her back to back shift at the hospital. She had been up all night when she was called into trauma surgery during an emergency. Despite having very little sleep and her body crying out for a much-needed rest, she couldn't back out on her promise to help her best friend, Geillis.

Geillis had just started her own business in children's party entertainment. The venture was still at its early stages, and because she was double-booked that day and didn't have enough money yet to hire extra staff, she had pleaded to help her do the Paw Patrol gig in Lallybroch.

How could she say no? Claire was already guilt-ridden for the many times she had cancelled on their night outs. These days her life revolved around her job at the hospital, planning her wedding and Frank. It was the least she could do for her neglected friend and social life.

"Who's hungry?" a voice shouted from the designated BBQ area. "Burgers, hotdogs and chips are ready!"

Instantly she was relieved from the weight of tiny bodies holding her down. Sitting up, she adjusted her mask as the children abandoned her for food.

"Um, Geillis?" She looked up. It was Jenny Fraser, the mother of the birthday boy. Claire hadn't bothered correcting her and elaborating that she was a stand-in for her friend. After all, this was just one-off and favour for Geillis.

"Yes?"

"Listen, the other children's entertainer is here already, and the bairns are eating. I believe yer two hours are up. D'ye mind collecting yer fees from my brother? He's just arrived and..." Jenny shrugged, looking down at the empty platter she was holding. "...as ye can see my hands are full at the moment."

She stood up, and through the eyeholes of the dog mask, she glanced at the newcomer.

Aah, bloody hell, it's James Fraser. The Highland's homegrown hero is back. She wondered how she failed to make the connection. She was in Lallybroch, the childhood home of Scotland's rugby best and finest centre.

"Ah, of course, I don't mind."

Jenny gave her a grateful look and smiled. "And thank ye. I ken it's nae job for the faint-hearted keeping the wee bairns entertained especially on a hot day like this. Ye must be shattered. Not to worry, though, I promise to give a good review online for yer new business."

She bobbed her big doggie head and watched Jenny turn and approach her brother before disappearing into the house.

After all these years, the sight of James Fraser could still make her heart kick into a gallop and the moisture in her mouth dry right up. What is it about this man that turned her into a lovesick teenager just by looking at him?

Easy now, Beauchamp. You're as good as married. Remember Frank? The weight of the three-carat diamond engagement ring on her finger served as a reminder. Think Frank! Frank! Frank! Frank! But her head refused to obey, and she continued to stare.

The first and only time she exchanged words with James Fraser, he was half-naked in the men's locker room being treated for a hamstring injury during a game. Her friend, Joe Abernathy, was a Tournament Medical Manager for the team, and through him, she had been there to assist for her own selfish reason - to see a live rugby match, up-close. It hadn't been difficult for Joe to get her in since she was an intern from the Royal Infirmary Hospital, and was more than qualified to assist.

She remembered only too well when she came face to face with the famous rugby player. He had been cocky as sin when she was caught staring awestruck instead of preparing the ice pack for his thigh. How could she not stare? Given his considerable height and athletic frame, he was one fine specimen of a man, gorgeous and bursting with character.

"Like what ye see, love?" he asked in amusement, flexing his pecs to tease her.

Mortified at being called out, she felt the heat creep up her neck. Not one to be intimidated by the display of cheek, she swallowed her embarrassment and tilted her chin at him. "To be honest, I've seen better. Robbie Henshaw is more my type," she retorted, referring to another rugby player.

A ruddy eyebrow shot up. "A sassenach that fancies an Irish charm! Weel, that's funny. I had a feeling ye like looking at my arse."

Ooh, the arrogance! "Sorry to give you the wrong impression Mr Fraser but, I thought I was looking at your face." Joe's snort and Jamie's frown sent her backing away to get the ice before he could respond. But by the time she returned, he was already surrounded by his manager and other paramedical crew, her presence and their exchange soon to be forgotten. It didn't come as a surprise since, in the grand scheme of things, she was just one of a myriad of faces he came across daily.

Later on, Joe teased her regarding the chaffing rejoinder she had launched at Jamie. "You should have seen his face after that comeback you did back there?"

"Sorry?"

"Come on, LJ ...stop pretending you don't know what I'm talking about. I saw sparks flying." LJ stood for Lady Jane, a nickname Joe had given her during her first year of internship at the Royal Infirmary Hospital. It all began when their mutual friends made fun of her voice, and posh English accent, jokingly pointing out that she sounded like she just had tea with the queen. The moniker remained ever since.

"Sparks? You must have mistaken it for my short fuse firing off."

Joe boomed with laughter as he walked away. "You definitely like the man ...no use denying it. Your mouth may be saying one thing, but your face tells another story."

"I most certainly do not!"

"Oh, and LJ?" Joe paused and turned around, ignoring her vehement denial.

"Yeah?"

"Don't believe everything you read in the newspaper about Jamie. Most are just tabloid nonsense."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever."

Yes, it's true she had a crush on James Fraser and had religiously followed his career. But her infatuation was just that and nothing more, even though she was often teased by her colleagues in her early years of internship. She was realistic enough to admit he was way out of her league, especially when he had been photographed and linked to high profile women in the past and fawned over by over-eager fans. After the locker room incident, she crossed path with James Fraser a couple more times, and there was never any hint of recognition on his part. She simply put it down to her baseball cap concealing most of her face and her refusal to engage, in case the embarrassing episode of her ogling at him was brought up.

Over a year and a half ago, she'd watched him score try after try for the national team during the World Cup, along with everyone in the local pub she frequented. There had never been a doubt he was destined to become one of the all-time greats in the rugby world. But no one had seen the injury coming, especially Jamie. Claire could still remember the heartbreak in his eyes when he announced his retirement on live TV at the age of twenty-eight, despite the light-hearted joke about having more time to practice his golf swings. And just like that, he disappeared from the media circuit.

After a while, rumours started to spread that he had gone off on a self-destructive bender. Joe Abernathy had confirmed the stories were true and he had tried to reach out to him, and so had the local community and his own family. Instead of being coaxed out into the light, James Fraser hid in his apartment, refusing to answer calls and emails. She thought what a waste if he ended up as a drunken slob as she'd never known him to be anything but a fiercely confident man even to a fault. Although she was a nobody to James Fraser, she had urged Joe multiple times to keep trying to reach out. Unfortunately, he didn't want the help and soon, even his staunchest fans began to lose interest. Except, maybe her.

Making her way towards him, she watched with interest as James Fraser smiled at his nephew whizzing about on his new toy bike. Russet coloured hair curled unruly over his brow and brushed the nape of his neck. He looked rather pale, and it was the first time she'd seen him with a beard. The uneven state of it told her the facial hair was a product of self-neglect rather than a style change. Her gaze dipped lower. With his feet braced apart, arms folded across his chest and at least his six-four height, he towered with an impressive bearing. Clad in faded black jeans that hung low on his hips and a white t-shirt that stretched over his muscular build, he looked like a modern Highland warrior.

"Hi there."

Claire's thought bubble burst, and she quickly reeled in her dwindling focus and pulled it higher until she met his eyes. A pair of pale ice blue with piercing intensity momentarily froze her in place. Right! What was it again I'm supposed to do? Oh yeah, collect the money, and get the hell out of here. Piece of cake. "Hi."

He gave her a forced smile as he fumbled at the back of his jean's pocket. "Ye've come to collect yer money. How much does my sister owe ye?"

"That'll be seventy quid, please. And um, good to see you out and about, Mr Fraser."

He stopped and squinted at her as if attempting to see through her doggie disguise. "Ah, a sassenach!"

"Yes, I've been reminded often enough."

There was a moment of silence.

Puffing his cheeks, he dragged a hand through his hair and rapidly let out a lungful of air. "Christ, I didn't mean it that way. And please call me Jamie. Everyone else does. And nae need to be so formal!"

She nodded her big head. "Alright ...Jamie, it is then. And don't worry. I didn't take offence. I know you didn't mean anything by it."

He was about to pull a note out of his wallet, but he stopped. As if he was in search of the right words to say. "Ye have a beautiful voice. What's the word ...aye, husky. Kinda like a bedroom voice."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she searched his face. It seemed he was genuinely just attempting small talk. "Thank you."

"Would ye like a drink before ye go? It's a hot day. Ye must be parched."

"Ah, no, I'm quite alright. But thanks."

"Ye have a name?" He drew out a hundred-pound note from his wallet, pinching it between his fingers.

"Call me Chase. I'm one of the Paw Patrols." When he laughed out loud, she was grateful for the mask that hid her unexpected smile.

"Weel, Chase I think ye sound bonnie." He took a careful step forward to peek through the eyehole. "Ye bonnie under there, Chase?"

Oh no, you don't! She took two steps back. This is getting bloody ridiculous. In as much as Claire was enjoying the harmless blather with the handsome Scot, she knew she was running out of time. She had a couple of hours of nap to take, shower, and meet Frank for a dinner date. For the most part, he was affecting her in ways that no other man had made her feel. Including Frank. "I really need to go," she said hoarsely.

"Right. Just one request before ye go. I'll give ye this ..." He waved the hundred-pound note in front of her. "...and ye can keep the change if ye let me see yer face."

Claire felt a stab of exasperation. Why does it matter what I look like? She was exhausted, hot and bothered and all she wanted right there and then was to get out of the stuffy costume. "Why do you need to see my face?"

Suddenly he looked uncomfortable. "What I meant ..."

She didn't let him finish. "What if you don't like what you see? Do I have to give the change back? Don't you have enough girls fawning over you?"

His shame morphed into annoyance and then into smug. "Careful, Sassenach, ye're starting to sound a little jealous to me."

Ooh, he's back to his usual cocky self. "Wot? Me? Jealous?" she fumed almost sputtering.

"Aye, jealous." He looked like he enjoyed making her feel uncomfortable as a corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smile.

A cloud above her head darkened, lightning threatening to shoot at all sides. She knew it was the heat and exhaustion that was making her cranky and tried to take calming breaths. "You're presumptuous and rude."

"And ye're annoyed because I can see that the idea of girls fawning me irks ye."

That's it, I've had enough of this palaver.

Claire rolled her lips inward to plump them, then reached up and removed her mask. Gratification coursed through her when his jaw went slack, and his blue eyes turned a deeper shade. That's right matey, I am not at all that bad! As she took a step forward, he straightened his posture, a groan escaping from his throat. He saw the intention in her eyes and knew what was coming.

"Jealous, you say?" she hissed. Remembering the embarrassment Jamie had caused her during their initial meeting, she shoved him against the wall of the house, not caring if anyone was watching the spectacle she was creating. Surging up on her toes, she brought her face up close to his, their noses almost touching. "That's right, darling, I would rock your world."

Ah, what the heck ...I'm getting married soon, I might as well. Not giving Jamie a chance to get a word in edgeways, she leaned even closer and merged their mouths together. To her astonishment, his lips parted, and the kiss hit the ground running in no time. One strong hand gripped her chin and pulled it down further, allowing him to slant his head and deepen the kiss more. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Shock exploded into her brain, and she swayed a little under the onslaught of heat. Jamie pushed his tongue deeper, making a low moaning sound, and she echoed it in kind. Then she felt his hand slide behind her neck as if he couldn't allow her to get away, and that's when she knew she was losing control. What the hell are you doing Beauchamp? Remember Frank?

Claire pulled away and took a deep breath. With his mouth damp and parted, he too was trying to draw in as much air as he could, his face a mask of stunned disbelief. "Ye look familiar. Who the hell are ye?"

Swallowing the odd lump in her throat, she plucked the hundred-pound note out of his fingers. "I'm gone. I'll have a receipt sent over." She took a few steps, stopped and then turned around to look at him. "Oh, by the way, I sincerely hope you're done feeling bad about your rugby career. Circumstances mess everyone up once in a while. And I guess it's fair to say, you've been messed up really bad. But, please, don't lie down and play the victim. I know you're better than this. Look at this way, you've achieved more than anyone could in a lifetime. You did it, Jamie. You've already achieved what you set to do. And I wish you all the luck in the world."

Taking advantage of the group of people approaching them, she hurried away.

"Hey ...wait, what's yer name?"

This time she didn't respond nor look back. With as much dignity as one could summon while dressed in a doggie costume, she ran as fast as she could.

#melodyheart #startingover #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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eldonash · 4 years

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Ulfric & Orobas || Tiny Hats and Big Bow Ties

Timeframe: During the carnival Who: Orobas and Ulfric @big-bad-ulf Summary: Ulfric, in wanting to be sure Orobas and him are still on good terms after the Layla incident, takes Orobas to the carnival. They play a game and the photo of the century is taken.

Ulfric drummed his fingers impatiently against his truck’s steering wheel as he waited outside the downtown highrise. Of all the messages the wolf could have received from Orobas following the tense note on which their last conversation had ended, he could safely say ‘Come pick me up? lets see what the humans are up to at this carnival,’ was the most surprising. He was aware that his request for the higher vampire to use his compulsion to help calm Layla had pushed the limits of their agreement and caused offence, and was expecting to have his own loyalty tested in some way in return. He’d even been psyching himself up to attempt to grovel a small amount. But the carnival? Really? He supposed the pedestrian thrills on offer could be pleasant in the right company, and Orobas was certainly always interesting to be around, but the two together made for a jarring fit. Ulfric couldn’t imagine an ancient vampire of legend wanting to share a stick of cotton candy and ride the ferris wheel unless he had some kind of ulterior motive or agenda, and that’s what had him so apprehensive. The sooner the vampire showed the sooner he’d be able to figure out what this was really about, and gage how much he needed to do to get back in his ally’s good graces. Finally spotting Orobas exiting the lobby of the apartment building, Ulfric honked to the truck’s horn once to get his attention, rolling down the window as the vampire approached to say. “If you want to observe humans, it would be best to try and abide by a human schedule. The night is not young,” He indicated the clock on the dashboard. “Let’s not dawdle.”

Orobas had to peel Haxian’s grip from his wrist, one finger at a time. Tonight had called for three hours of preparations to convince his master to let him go. Orobas hadn’t had to deal with this version of Haxian since before White Crest, and with the pressing issues in the background, the ones only the two of them suspected, Orobas currently felt like his mind was heavy. He had finally watched Haxian walk away, waiting for Ulfric like some knight in shiny armor-- though in this case, it was a bushy bearded werewolf pulling up in a truck. Looking at the wolf, Orobas seemed unaware time was on his mind. “Are you in a rush?” He inquired, tone lacking any of his teasing energy that sometimes crept up when he was amused. Orobas sat down in the passenger seat, wearing a black t-shirt, and jacket, and dark blue jeans. His gaze drifted out the window. “How is the lil one?”

“Not exactly, I just didn’t want you to be displeased if the place was already emptying out of humans when we got there.” Ulfric stated matter-of-factly as he pulled away from the building, noting from the lack of humor in Orobas’ tone that he was, as anticipated, already displeased. “Which one?” The werewolf answered his next question out of habit, though it was only logical that he’d mean Layla. There was a lengthy pause as he considered how best to approach the subject, though he did his best to make it appear he was just focussed on driving and taking his role as vampiric chauffeur seriously. “Layla’s returned to herself, not quite her usual self, but she’ll get there. In no small part thanks to you. How are your--” He hesitated, searching for an appropriate word, slightly uncomfortable referring to the teenagers who work at Cryptid Corner as his toys even if Orobas himself had. “Your employees?” Ulfric settled on finally, the fog that had settled the town in recent years fading until it was replaced by the flickering lights of the carnival through the windshield as they arrived at their destination. He supposed they were meant to stir up a sense of excitement in the human attendees, but with his lack of colour perception and enhanced night vision they just sort of stung. “So, what were you looking for here, Orobas?” He queried, turning to his passenger to let him know he was incharge of the itinerary for the evening (within reason), it seemed as good a strategy as any to start repairing the alliance they’d forged.

“So you do have a few,” Orobas chuckled faintly. “You sure do have a nice little family now, Ulfric.” The comment wasn’t negative sounding, but did seem to hold envious weight. “My employees? Who cares about them--” he waved lightly, before leaning back, the usual up tight and proper sitting position dissolved further with his leg pulled up and his foot rested on the seat so he could hold it. “They work, I have a new daytime general manager, she is perfect, which makes me suspicious, but at least I don’t have to spend my first few hours playing catch up every night.” Business talk was easy, and Orobas could continue on the ramble while they drove if it came to that. When the light surfaced he grimaced as well. “Mhm, mostly curious to see what humans like. Steal some of the ideas and incorporate them into Cryptid so they will stop bitching at me. Or, maybe I just wanted you to take me out somewhere.”

Ulfric decided to ignore the comments about his ‘family’, not wanting to dwell on the fact that he may have deliberately overemphasized how packs could act as a combat task force rather than focussing on their function as a nurturing community when he’d first pitched an alliance between the werewolves and vampires of White Crest. “Scoping out the competition, that makes good tactical sense,” he nodded in agreement with Orobas’ plan as he stepped out of the truck and locked it behind him, “If this was just a social call, surely we would’ve gone somewhere less mundane?” And less… shrill. Even with his hearing at the duller end of the range he experienced with it being so close to the new moon, the torrent of screaming and laughter from the carnival-goers elicited a dull throb of pain between his ears. Despite his discomfort, he surged ahead through the entryway into the grounds, plucking a map from the information stand that greeted them with a single-minded determination to show Orobas he was willing to do what was asked of him, and do it well. His eyes flitted back and forth rapidly over the map for a moment, before folding and stuffing it in his pocket, confident he’d gleaned from it everything they needed to know. “I’ve deduced that the organizers have broken down their efforts to entertain these-- happy customers into three categories; attractions, games, and thrills,” the werewolf informed his vampire companion, catching himself just before referring to the crowd as humans again, since the patrons swirling around them were potentially close enough to overhear. “So, pick your poison.”

Orobas wanted to hear Ulfric’s loud, stupid laugh. He was being formal with him, and maybe it was his own mood spilling over to cause it. Pulling out some sunglasses, he tucked them on his nose to dim the lights and cheerfulness. “This is why Cryptic is the way it is, this is too much. I hate it,” he commented, glancing around at everyone. It seemed they were having fun on the surface, but everything here was laced with something more. How many would die here? He wondered. Or disappear without a trace just like it surfaced without one. Humanity had to live in the moment, and their happiness was so easy to take. “Games, those do well for me business wise. I’d like to see their prizes and I want you to win me something.” His voice still didn’t hold anything to it, this monotonous tone. He began to follow Ulfric since he saw the map, and the more he saw, the more he wanted something far more interesting to happen. What if the ferris wheel stopped? What if the rides jarred and caused someone’s neck to crack in pain? Where was the fae running around his park with their wings out. Yet, they were here. Enjoying themselves in the bright lights, and the terrible music. It rather made him realize humanity was quite ridiculous. “What game are you good at?” he asked, purchasing tickets for them and handing them all to Ulfric.

Ulfric chuckled at the thought that something could seem like ‘too much’ to someone who usually carried themselves with such flair. “I’d have to agree with you.” The werewolf pulled out his own pair of dark tinted shades from his pockets, relieved Orobas had been the one to relent and seek to block out some of the offensive barrage of sensations first. “The patrons with duller senses seem to be enjoying this level of stimulation though. It might be worth keeping that in mind if you’re looking to appeal to them,” he advised with a shrug, wondering again why of all the people he had been the one chosen to help him understand humans when his own understanding of them wasn’t in-depth. At Orobas’ proposition, he smiled more genuinely. It was a glimpse of the more playful vampire he was accustomed to dealing with. “I don’t know, this doesn’t seem like the kind of fair where they’d host woodcutting competitions…” he wondered aloud as he took the ticket and wandered along the row of gaming stalls. There was one stall where people were pushing ping pong balls into the mouths of plastic rotating mime heads, and he immediately eliminated that as an option because while he would happily feast on another mime creature if it happened to cross his path on a full moon, he wasn’t inclined to feed one himself. A stall where people shot fake guns at a pop-up display of a variety of woodland animals, including poorly drawn cartoon wolves, was more off-putting still. “This one.” The werewolf finally stopped at a booth with a back wall covered in balloons, some of which almost appeared to be pulsating, and a display that read, ‘Pop five in a row and win a prize! But for each one you pop, there’s a guaranteed surprise!’ Ulfric handed over a ticket in exchange for a set of five darts. “Are you sure you just want to watch?” He turned back to Orobas to ask, “It might be more entertaining to compete, make this an actual challenge.”

Orobas wasn’t surprised at the mime games, but he was over it since the sludge incident and that horrid woman who always felt the need to bother him online. Though, knowing that Ulfric had eaten a mime, one that hadn’t entirely been human, made him smile gently. It seemed his werewolf companion wasn’t satisfied with any of the games they were passing, but finally, their steps paused and end up at a balloon popping one. He chuckled. “That’s your instincts, not mine. But I will humor you,” he took some darts, rolling them between his fingers, watching the cheap feather on the ends twirl. Wishing it was heavier or a dagger. He threw two of the darts at once, each one striking the same color balloon that exploded in green slime. ‘Whoa, gross! You get a special prize for two slime ones, lucky,’ the young person said behind the booth. Orobas was promptly handed a teeny tiny black top hat that was dotted in glitter. He held it in his hands confused. “What do I do with it?” he asked the person, and they took it back and gestured him forward. He leaned in, the darts in his hand grouping up and tightening in a hold as a weapon should he need it. They set it on his head, clipping the side so it stuck to his hair. He looked at Ulfric, though with the glasses on his staredown, it was easy to feel. “Hm--”

“It suits that big head of yours,” Ulfric taunted, after taking in the image of the vampire in his tiny top hat. Though even as the aura of competition began to heat his blood, the teasing didn’t have quite his usual confidence, still unsure how solid the ground the two of them stood on was. He turned back to focus on the game, not wanting to let on how impressed he had been by the simultaneous double strike, though it probably showed in how seriously he took to aiming his darts before he let them fly free. The first hit a balloon which burst with a wet splat as something that looked very similar to blood poured out, though it lacked the distinctive smell, so surely it had to be fake…? There was something off about this carnival, or else humans had become distinctly more morbid since he’d last attended a similar event. The second exploded in a shower of glitter, twinkling in the lights as it coated him, the attendant and half of the booth in a light dusting. Unphased, the attendant whipped an oversized clip on bowtie out and clipped it to his collar with alarming fast reflexes. “Is this what you wanted?” The werewolf turned to the vampire, wearing his new prize and flakes of glitter stuck in his beard. “I’m beginning to suspect your true motive for inviting me here was to see me humbled.” He held up the final dart in askance. “Still want me to win this game for you?” If that was still the vampire’s wish then he could regain at least a small slither of his dignity through the small victory.

“Thank you,” Orobas had no idea how something like this could unfold, but when the large bow tie tucked under that bushy beard, his cold exterior cracked. A laugh huffed out, his smile genuine over it’s usually forced, creepy edge, and more real than anyone in his entire life has witnessed. The glitter was everywhere, dotting his cheeks, shoulders as well. He handed his phone to the attendant with compulsed demand, “take our photo.” The person fumbled a little with the device tossed his way, but quickly snapped a few shots that Orobas actually smiled in. Orobas glanced at the photo, he had none of him and Haxian hung up on the walls at their home. Nothing of him or Francesca with incriminating blood staining their cheeks, or even Morelia, while she had slept by his side, he should have taken one. He stared down at it, his fingers tightening subtly as a difficult feeling settled in his hallowed, still chest. “Yes,” he responded and handed him the last of his darts. “That--” he gestured to the small bat plushie with the vampire teeth hanging from the top of the stall, likely something that was hung from the rearview mirror in a car. “For your truck,” he cheekily added.

For what? Ulfric almost retorted, but bit his tongue when he saw Orobas break into a surprisingly non-disturbing smile. He got the feeling whatever cracks had formed between them when he’d called in his request for the vampire to aid Layla had begun to be repaired, and he’d only had to mildly humiliate himself to achieve it. So that counted as a win. He moved into position next to his undead companion just in time for the first flash of the camera, posing for a thumbs up. Ulfric rolled his eyes at Orobas’ choice of prize but couldn’t stop a small grin from forming on his face along with it, pleased that some of his ally’s former mischievousness was returning. “As you wish,” He declared, before sending the final dart sailing into a balloon in the centre of the board that explored into a puddle of perhaps the most unsettling surprise of all; mayonnaise. The attendant still slightly dazed from the compulsion, fumbled for the little bat toy but eventually deposited it in the werewolf’s hand. “A token of our comradery, I swear I’ll leave it on prominent display.” At least when no one else was in the truck with him, he thought. “Can we consider this recon mission a success, then, and get out of here before my ears start to bleed?” He asked, stashing the prize in his pocket, “Though on second thought, you’d probably enjoy that.”

“Liar,” Orobas chuckled. “Yes, I do think this is enough. I’ve gotten little answers as to why they enjoy this place filled with oddities, but whine about the amusement park.” He started to walk with him, a sly grin that yes, he’s always okay with a little suffering, but didn’t comment on that piece. He began to walk the way they came. Orobas wasn’t able to elaborate on the feelings he was experiencing right now. Everything still felt so numb to his person, this emptiness in him that didn’t want to explain why it was there. “Ulfric, there is an vampyric adversary coming into town that Haxian and I know very well. We’ve attempted, in the past many times-- to dispose of them. They were always tricky. Sly with their contacts, knowing how to pin us down somewhere with their kin.” Orobas looked towards the rides in passing, and rolled his eyes. “I am unsure who I will involve in dealing with them. This is what happens when you don’t rid the world of your enemies. They circle back. But I do wish for you to know. It’s-- a dangerous situation I’m not taking lightly.”

“People tend to flock to what’s new and exciting, even if it’s not so different from what they’ve already got,” Ulfric explained, keeping in step with Orobas and shrugging, sending a small flutter of glitter to the ground. “You should know that by now.” What with his advanced age and all, he thought, but being surrounded by so many townspeople in close proximity kept him from being able to use the best of his barbs, since Orobas appeared to be younger than him. His expression turned more serious as the vampire explained the threat he was facing, ignoring the jab about sparing enemies under certain circumstances that no doubt arose from their previous argument on the subject. “And when he rolls back around I’ll be ready to face them with you, as promised.” The werewolf assured him, clapping Orobas on the shoulder. “I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to fight a vampire.” Already dead, they’d have little reason to fear it, and their unique abilities and lack of weaknesses such as needing to breath would surely make for a challenge. Although Ulfric never enjoyed killing, he would’ve been lying if he said there wasn’t a lot of satisfaction to be gained from coming out on top after a hard-won brawl. “It’s a good thing we’re friends.”

A chuckle. Ulfric could be lured easily into a fight, even without having all the details. The clap on his back brought back a rush of old memories, of different wolves, of other times. “If you ever want practice let me know. There are always a few newborns that just need to go-- beyond training, or assistance. I usually kill them myself. This one though, hmm,” Orobas seemed to slip into thought for a moment, quiet, and still as he usually was, even with his steps going forward. “We will need at a dozen or more people,” he said with a grit of teeth. “It’s that level of dangerous, unfortunately. Some of us will perish, for it’s not a vampire we are fighting. It’s an Elder who has a petulance in making spawn over higher vampires. It will be messy.”

“If they’re running rampant, I could kill two bats with one stone, I suppose...” Ulfric mulled the suggestion over with only a slight grimace. Pragmatically, it would be good to stay on top of his game, and if leaving them to roam the town was an exposure risk then someone was going to have to exterminate these vampires. But he also wasn’t sure how much he liked the idea of becoming the White Crest vampire community’s garbage disposal. That was uncomfortably close to hunter territory. “I prefer to work in a team anyway,” he shrugged at the description of the battle plan. “the lone wolf trope is just that. But are you not... also an elder?” The werewolf arched an eyebrow at the 400-odd-year-old next to him. “How ancient is this thing?” Just then, a juggling carnival worker riding a unicycle drove down the aisle between them, reminding him of their setting. “I realize this fair doesn’t seem entirely mundane,” he lowered his voice and stepped closer to Orobas glancing around them at the crowd as they passed by chattering animatedly or milling in queues to the supposed ‘thrill’ rides, “But are you sure this is the place to discuss this? It might be best to reconvene somewhere more discreet.”

“No, my master is though, you have to be over five hundred or so. It’s a gradual change, and the more time that passes, the more dangerous they can be if you aren’t on their side. This person was old when I met him two hundred years ago, so I can only imagine.” Orobas didn’t normally give that type of information out, but it was Ulfric. “Vampires will always fight with each other. We like our territory, and we like what is ours.” He glanced around, meeting the passing eye of a few people behind his sunglasses. “You are always paranoid about that. Probably though, I was lost in thought. We can speak later on details. I have a busy week ahead anyway, and I could still use your aid in snuffing out that human who visits during the day.”

“You mean sniffing them out,” Ulfric corrected lightly. Orobas could do the ‘snuffing’ if the human’s mind was truly warped so badly by compulsion that they were beyond help, though the werewolf was still keen to verify that part for himself. Not so much because he didn’t trust the vampire’s word on it, but just because if such a thing was possible then he wanted to know, really know, and you only learned the tough lessons by making yourself look directly at them. “But yes, I will help,” he held his hand out for Orobas to shake, a deal re-struck. “I do keep my word.” As they neared the exit to the carnival grounds, he pulled the bat toy out of his pocket and let it dangle between his fingers in front of the vampire’s eyes. “I’ll even let you hang this in my truck yourself to prove it.”

Orobas laughed a little. “Yes, that--” he poked his nose lightly. “Way better than mine.” He shook his hand and promptly snatched the silly toy before Ulfric could joke around and take it back. “Will do,” he spun it around his finger, and made towards the truck. The mood lighter.

#x: ulfric #x: tiny hats and big bow ties #{WHOLESOME SOMEHOW}

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spooky-raccoon · 5 years

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Years Later (Part 12)

Pennywise x Female Reader

Part 12 to Years Later

Tag List: @clussysposts @originalclodmakergarden @yeetingful @neiboltwell @wanna-rock-n-roll-in80s @risettochan @angeli-fucking-cat @breeknighty @trig-loves-clowning-around @rottenhearts-and-sharpteeth

Pennywise remained on edge for weeks after the attack and even when he seemed relaxed his eyes were always darty. He made more public appearances as Robert Gray to escort me where I needed to go if I ever did need to leave. If he caught someone’s eyes lingering too long on me they soon became a new missing poster plastered all over Derry. I had tried to get through to him that none of them meant any harm, but my concern was met with rough attention and possessive fucking. There was never getting through to him, but I never expected to. It saved me some headaches after just accepting that perhaps with me being pregnant he was more territorial. An animal like instinct for him maybe? If that was the case I let all of it slide. Of course, I didn’t really have a say in the matter.

Territorial couldn’t even graze what Pennywise was becoming I’d come to find out.

Weeks upon weeks past and with the time going by I was starting to show. I couldn’t lie to myself that seeing the bump and feeling the small flutters of movement excited me. The way Pennywise would coo in a strange, foreign language to the bump would send a maternal warmth through me. Maybe things would work out. Maybe things would be alright. Pennywise was now only leaving me to hunt some poor soul for our next meal. It was still odd getting over having to eat human flesh, but I wanted what was best for our child. He would even scare someone a certain way if he knew the fear was more favorable to the baby. At least he was being thoughtful.

However, as time went on Pennywise’s possessiveness was getting to new heights. Almost to the point of feeling suffocating. I was in the middle of the second trimester when Pennywise wanted me to stay home from that point on. He had started to get on me about it as soon as I walked in the door from work that day.

“Pennywise, no. I need to work.” I set the gathered mail at the dining room table so I could sort through it at some point, just wanting to relax after today.

“You don’t need to do no such thing.” His looming figure followed behind me. “I can easily provide for you. That job is just keeping you away from me and the rest the baby needs.”

“You come with me to work almost every single day, Pennywise. It’s not keeping me from you.” It had been a long day at work and the baby had been putting more strain on my body than usual but refused to let him know. Though I’m sure he already knew well enough. “And the baby is doing just fine. You told me so yourself when you checked the other day.”

“It’s been getting harder for you to work.” He hunched over a little as his hands cupped over the bump of my stomach. “Precious little cargo you carry, my (Y/N). Precious. Precious to the both of us.” His eyes flicked up to meet mine. Something seemed off in them. More so then usual. Like something was on the edge and about to teeter over.

“I… Pennywise. A little bit more time, okay? After the Christmas programs are over. I’ve already got so much planned and in the works. I don’t want to abandon it yet.” My eyes faltered away as I asked. It was a simple request and it was true. He had seen firsthand all the work I had done as he continued to show up as Robert Gray at the library. “It’s only a few more weeks.”

His long fingers caressed where they were on my stomach, almost methodically as he thought of my request. A low, rumbling noise came from him as he reached to put a finger underneath my chin. Slowly, he tilted my head upward so I could see him in the eyes. The stare was still there but something softer was inside those baby blue eyes.

“Couple more weeks. Then have you all to me. Old Pennywise. Yes, yes. That’ll be just fine.” A look of relief was on both our faces at that moment. With that he slid his hands away from me so he could prepare a meal of some sort.

27 Years Ago -----------------

It had been almost three months since I had seen Pennywise after he made me float with the rest of his meals. I didn’t want to go seek him out. He didn’t deserve that right. I went about my life like normal as if he didn’t exist. At least the best I could with the random gifts that would show up and the red balloons I would see now and then. I could really tell he was trying to get my attention though as more and more balloons would show up. Some would have messages, and some wouldn’t. ‘Come back to me.’ ‘You’re mine!’ ‘The sewers are calling.’ and so many other messages. I didn’t go to the sewers though. I simply went to work, home, or the grocery store. He could come get me whenever he wanted I had decided.

It was the first snow of winter as I made my way home that day. Even though it had been pretty chilly in the Maine weather I still wanted to get one last walk to and from work before having to drive. I passed by a sewer drain like many others and I could hear faint voices coming from it. Another trick from Pennywise that only made my eyes roll. As I walked past the voices were getting louder and louder though I couldn’t make out what they were saying. The annoyance of the weeks that had past finally snapped in me. I stormed over to the drain and crouched down just the echo of voices were cascading all over another.

“Alright, Pennywise. You have my attention.” I looked down into the sewer, not seeing anything inside. The voices did suddenly stop though and there was almost an eerie silence as it was starting to snow harder. “Pennywise?” I crouched down a little lower so I could get a better look inside to see if perhaps he was just out of sight.

“Mmmmy little one.” His voice echoed off the walls followed by the sound of his bells jingling. “Sweet, sweeT little one. Closer.”

“No, Pennywise. I’m not getting closer.” My eyes darted around the space I could see but it was just so dark. That’s when a pair of bright baby blue eyes blinked open not too far from my face. “Pennywise!” I jumped back and would have gone further if he hadn’t shot his hand out to grab the front of my shirt.

“Come here!” His voice shrilled out and he pulled me headfirst into the sewer. No one around would have heard my scream, but I screamed, nonetheless.

Pennywise had me in a loose bridal hold as he trudged through the cold grey water. He didn’t say a thing and neither did I. I only looked ahead; a bit relieved when the passageway was more familiar. His pace picked up the closer we got to the cistern and shortly we arrived.

“Pennywise, we have a lot to talk about.” I finally looked up at him and he was staring intensely at his stage box. “Pennywise?”

He still didn’t look at me as he made his way over to it. I yelped out when he jumped onto it with such ease. He paced around the floor before finally there was a sickening pop and crack that came from behind me. A spider like leg had come out from his side and slammed into the wooden ground. I put my arms around my head to protect myself from any shrapnel that went flying. There was the creak of a hatch opening which made me open my eyes.

“Pennywise, where are you taking me?” I finally spoke and starting to squirm in his grip.

“Stay still. Close your eyes.” He all but snarled at me and my heart started to pound in his chest. When he looked at me to see that my eyes weren’t closed his face got just a few inches from mine. “Close. Your. Eyes.”

“Y-Yes, Pennywise.” I didn’t waste another second and closed my eyes as he asked. I could feel rocks brushing up against me as he held me flush to his chest and descended downward.

I could feel my heart sinking the further he went. Kind of like during an intense roller coaster going downhill that felt like it never ended. What if I wasn’t going to come back up? What if this was the end? All because I was being petty and ignored him to see if he would come to me first. I was stupid though. I should have known better. I was a plaything to him and that’s where I would always be.

There was a soft thud as he landed finally and that’s when he finally set me down on the ground. There was a soft glow coming from somewhere else further ahead that gave off enough light so I could see where to go. He walked ahead of me and gestured for me to follow. I really didn’t have much of a choice as I followed behind him. We had to squirm through between some rocks which took some effort, but I managed after taking off my winter coat. I dusted myself off and looked ahead to where I was, and a strange awe filling sensation washed over me.

It was a large cavern that I could see had different pathways attached to it. In the center looked like sharp rocks that jutted outwards. They were massive even for the cavern they were in. He was walking towards it and turned to face me after a point. I made my way to him and my eyes looked around the room before I looked up at him. I felt an odd acceptance of peace as I met the glowing eyes of his with my own eyes.

“Is this… Is there where I die?” My voice wavered at the end even though I was ready to accept my fate. I had wanted to grow old but Pennywise had loved to remind me that he would be one to kill me, to feast on my flesh as I scream out as he made me live out my worst fears.

“Die, no.” He shook his head as he closed the space between us and looped an arm around me. “I’ve been wanting to bring you here for a while, (Y/N). This place is special. So very special.” He turned and pointed upwards, my eyes following. There was a large opening upward and it looked like spikes protruded from the sides. But that’s when I saw the walls moving. Almost like a throat. That’s when the spikes started to look like teeth. “Up there, way up, up, up are my lights. This was where I landed millions, upon millions of years ago.” He turned to me and his face drew closer to mine as he spoke. “There’s something else I wish to show you.”

My gaze was still upward for a moment before I met his eyes. All I could do was nod. He grabbed me by the hand and roughly pulled me toward one of the tunnels. I was relieved that I wasn’t going to die. At least not yet and not down here. The tunnel he took me down was large and look like it had been carved out by something that would have fit perfectly inside it. Maybe him? I only had seen him in a larger version of the clown before, but I didn’t know what his limits to his shapeshifting ability was or if there even was one. That was a time for later though. The tunnel wasn’t too long, and we were now in another large room, but this was much different.

What looked like egg sacs littered around the cavern. Many of them had a single glowing light on the inside that was slowly moving around inside where they were. There was a cluster close by to the entrance that looked as if something had broken them that had caught my eye. I went over to it and Pennywise followed behind me. I could feel his gaze burying into my back as I lightly touched the surface of the broken husk.

“What happened Pennywise?” I looked to him as I asked, and I could see an anger and sadness in his eyes. He moved to be beside me and placed a hand close to mine.

“Filthy humans. Filthy little brats who were after me. They found them and killed my babies before I could kill them. Slipped right out of my fingers.” His hand fell away from the shell and he walked over to the eggs in the center. I followed behind him and I could feel my heart sink for him.

“Pennywise, I’m so sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say but it was the least I could. I stood next to him as he stared down at the lively bouncing lights inside each one.

“I do not feel emotions like humans do but that day I felt rage. Uncontrollable rage. I felt pain. An ache in my lights I never felt ever before.” He looked down at me and I turned my head upward to meet his solemn expression. “That day you helped me, I felt pain. Physical pain and it was new. I’ve been around for millions of years and to have my prey fight back is new. I was on more edge than usual that day. I lost myself for a moment.”

“Stop right there Pennywise.” I suddenly hugged him which took him back for a moment but soon his arms wrapped around me. “You don’t need to explain yourself. I’ve never understood you from the beginning and I probably never will even after the day I’m dead in the ground. And that’s okay.”

In that moment there was a genuine peace between the two of us. There was no exchange of words as we just stood there in the cavern and spent some time with the remaining eggs. I felt an odd maternal tug to them, that I wanted to take care of them. Perhaps that was something Pennywise saw in me that day along with the long-lost conversation we had had that one day in the Barrens. I had only really noticed how gentler Pennywise was that evening when we had made it back to my place to make up for lost time. Something was off though. Something in his eyes that kept a permanent shiver down my spine. Something not quite right. Like there was something on his mind that he was going to keep to himself until the very last minute. It would be a few birthday’s though until I realized what exactly had planned.

#pennywise #pennywise the dancing clown #pennywise: years later #pennywise: years later part 12 #pennywise x female reader #pennywise x reader #pennywise fanfic #pennywise fanfiction

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Bedside Stories ch.1 (baon)

Summary: In the aftermath of Internal Disputes. Everything is going swell.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Hospitals

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

One of the first things Stretch had done when Edge was able to remain more awake was to sign in to their Netflix account on the hospital room television. Or rather, Red’s Netflix account since they still hadn’t bothered to get their own. He suspected Red took some minor glee at allowing others to pirate his account and who was he to steal his brother’s joy. He’d keep his thefts to digital streaming services.

But the television was currently dark, hunkering in the corner and silenced from the bevy of cooking shows played non-stop since that morning, ones like Sugar Rush and Cake Wars. Edge finally snapped on the second episode of ‘Nailed It’ and turned it off to relish the silence. His pain was currently at a tolerable level without any medication and he preferred not to add to it with awful programs.

On the table beneath the tv was a lovely floral arrangement sent by Asgore, one that he’d quite likely made himself and Edge truly appreciated that Stretch only put it where Edge directed and made no comment about who it was from.

It wasn’t entirely a surprise; Stretch had been on his best behavior for the past couple days and if the shrill voices of the hosts from that awful show had grated on his nerves, a well-behaved Stretch was nearly worse. He loved his husband as he was, snark and puns and all. It was nearly better to have him briefly gone, with the hopes he’d be more himself when he returned.

Much as Edge appreciated the current silence, there wasn’t much else to do in the hospital room. There was a stack of books sitting on the side table that he didn’t want to read along with his cell phone which gave him an apologetic message stating that his account could not currently access the Embassy servers, along with a terrible stick figure drawing resembling Janice with a word balloon that said, ‘Get well soon!’.

On top of the books was a rubix cube that Jeff brought in for him, a thoughtful gift that Edge solved in less than a minute, to his laughing dismay.

He was actually starting to reluctantly consider playing Simcity on his phone when a hammering knock at the door almost sent him flying to his feet. Or foot, rather, since one of them was currently firmly encased in a plaster cast.

“Come in!” Edge called irritably. He really could do without anyone testing whether skeletons could have a heart attack for a while.

He wasn’t surprised when the door flew open to reveal Undyne, grinning unrepentantly. She all but slammed the door behind her and flopped down in the chair by the bed, propping her booted feet up on the bed rail.

“Heya, tough nerd, where is your pretty honey bunny?” She glanced around the room as if she expected to find Stretch stashed away in the closet or under the bed.

“Must you call him that?” Edge sighed. The soles of her boots were leaving smudges on his sheets and he reached down to give them a slap, knocking them to the floor. Undyne only laughed.

“Touchy.” She shifted to lean with her elbows on her knees, hands hanging between them. “I’m the one whose knocked up, shouldn’t I be having the mood swings?”

“Thinking of you with mood swings is terrifying. Congratulations, by the way.” Edge knew very little about pregnancy, but he couldn’t really see a change in Undyne. He thought she might be wearing a slightly looser shirt than normal, but nothing else seemed visible, not even the ‘glow’ often mentioned in books and movies.

“Eh, thanks,” she grinned. “But let’s back up a step. I figured that honey of a hubby of yours wouldn’t leave your side.”

“You would be correct, even if I want him to,” Edge said dryly. “Much as I adore him, he was starting to get, shall we say, antsy. I sent him home to check on his chickens and to bring me some clean clothes.” Today was the first day Edge was in a position to despise the hospital gowns and he was, with great distaste.

“Uh huh. When are they springing you?” The way Undyne’s gaze fell over him was familiar, assessing damage and calculating potential weakness. It was automatic and came from a place of concern, he knew, but it was difficult not to bristle.

“Hopefully tomorrow, for a week’s rest and then a walking cast.”

Her eye narrowed, flicking back to his leg. “Bad?

“Not as bad as it could have been. For one, it’s still attached.” Undyne barked a laugh and pounded on the arm of her chair, which was the hoped for reaction. He’d tried that particular gallows humor with Stretch earlier and he had not been amused in the slightest. “It was mostly healed before we even got to the hospital, but the bone needs support until the doctors deem otherwise. Now that we’ve discussed me, can we…?”

“Yeah, sure.” She leaned back in her chair and spread her hands over her belly, pulling her t-shirt taut. That revealed the soft swell of her belly. “Alphys and I decided it was time to have a rugrat to chase, so us and the pop-sicle are on it.”

Popsicle? He didn’t want to know. But he did ask, curiously, “When are you due?”

“‘Bout two months.”

“Two months!” Edge blinked at her in shock. “I thought you’d be...more…” He held his arms out in front of his own empty stomach cavity in a wide circle.

She scoffed loudly and flexed, the firm ball of her bicep popping. “When you’re swole like me, the baby’s gotta fight the abs. And let me tell you, they’re trying.” She smirked then, a fiendish sort of glitter in her eye that filled Edge with equal parts fondness and terror. “You wanna feel the baby?”

“Well, I—”

Too late, she already stood and snatched up his hand, plopped it the slight curve of her belly. It was oddly firm, not at all what he was expecting and before he adjusted to that, there came a wiggle, like a fish was caught in her stomach which it might very well be. Ugh, that was disturbing. He preferred children after the creation process was finished.

She let him pull away and from her grin, she knew exactly how Edge felt about it; some of her glee rather resembled Red’s...or another Undyne, from another world. She flopped back in her chair and gave her belly an absent scratch. “So, when are you and Stretch gonna--”

“Please don’t ask.”

She frowned. “Oh. Sorry.”

It wasn’t her concern or her business, it was private, between him and Stretch, and Edge was as astonished as anyone to hear himself say, “He doesn’t want children.”

“What?” Undyne’s face twisted into disbelief. “Get off it. He loves kids, he’s always getting into trouble with the local ankle-biters. Bet you could talk him into it.”

“I don’t want to talk him into it.” Edge barely kept his testiness down, he knew Undyne, and knew she didn’t mean any harm, and he was the one who’d opened the topic. "I never want him to feel like a child is something he needs to agree to to keep me. I—“ He hesitated, thinking of Stretch, and his irritation faded. His faint smile was automatic, as natural as breathing when it came to thinking about his husband. As terrible as their anniversary had been with him mostly in a drugged sleep and Stretch curled up against him in his arms, Edge would have rather done it that way a dozen times over than to not have it at all. “I love him and I’ve accepted that we won’t have children. That’s our choice.”

For the first time, that honestly felt true. He supposed there was a faint hope lingering after their brief discussion last year, one that nagged at the back of his mind, tugged at his soul. But if he forced himself to truly consider it, Edge was happy with their lives the way they were and that wasn’t simply from Stretch’s preference; if they had a child, he would need to severely limit his other commitments to the Embassy and the Monster community as a whole. Plus there were the children at the Y to consider, children whose home lives were far from perfect, who craved a stabilizing influence.

Those children needed him more than he needed to speculate on an imaginary child. Even the children in New New home, who had loving parents of their own, needed to be protected from a world that was not yet as accepting as they might wish. The glaring white cast on his foot was proof of that.

That little pang he sometimes got when he thought of having a child of his own eased, fading, and Edge was content to let it go.

Undyne was looking at him with unusual shrewdness. “Yeah, I get that. Well, you’ll be a great uncle, both of ya, and I’m betting we’ll be trying to hook you up with babysitting duties.”

“I’d like that,” Edge said honestly. “And all the other neighborhood children seem to enjoy having a spare uncle or two. I’m sure your tadpole will be delighted to join the rest.”

She slapped her knees and stood. “Well, I gotta get back to the shitshow...and don’t even bother asking, I’m not supposed to tell you anything yet, that’s orders from on high. Just wanted to check in on you.” She sobered, and said with unusual softness. “And thank you. If I’d been there--” She shuddered, her hand falling down to rest on the slight swell of her belly.

“You don’t need to thank me, but you’re welcome,” Edge said sincerely.

Her somberness split into another wide grin. “But while I’m here….”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a Sharpie, waggling her eyebrows as she held it up.

Ugh. They’d only put the cast on this morning and thus far, no one else had been around to attempt signing it. Grimly, Edge nodded. This was a bonding ritual of sorts in this world, and he would not be so churlish as to refuse it.

“Nothing obscene,” he warned. Undyne scoffed, but obediently signed only her name, adding in a clumsy sketch of her own face saying ‘get well soon, nerd!’

The door opened as she was finishing, Stretch barrelling inside with several bags in his arms. “okay, i know it’s cold out, but you won’t be able to do any turns on the catwalk soon anyway, so i figured gym shorts would be easier to get on you--hey!” He stopped, outraged. “i was gonna do that!”

“I left you plenty of room,” Undyne snorted.

Stretch harrumphed and started digging through one of the bags. He pulled out an entire package of sharpies in a startling array of colors. “my canvas is the world!”

“Your canvas is on my body,” Edge said dryly. “You may sign your name and sketch a small picture, Van Gogh.”

“salvador dali had a better moustache. and both ears.”

“Considering you have neither--”

“yeah, yeah. hey, undyne, congrats on the bump.”

“Thanks,” Undyne said easily, but Edge noticed she didn’t try to grab Stretch’s hand and drag it over to feel any kicking. Neither did Stretch ask and that seemed best. “See you two nerds around!”

“See ya,” Stretch called even as he plopped down to sit next to Edge’s carefully propped leg. “oh, yeah, here, i got you this.”

From the depths of his bag came a couple of books, not novels, but crosswords and sudoku, both with bright titles declaring them ‘World’s Most Difficult Puzzles’! There were also two metal squares about the size of his fist and when Edge inspected them, he found that they were latticed, dozens of different parts that appeared to be a whole.

“those are supposed to be really tough brainteasers...shit!” Stretch had been struggling with opening the packet of pens and when he finally pried the plastic apart, they fell out in a burst, scattering over the bed. Grumbling, he gathered them up in a messy rainbow pile near Edge’s cast.

Edge added a blue sharpie that had made it all the way up to the pillow to the pile, then set books and puzzles on his other side. “Thank you.”

“sure. i figured you were tired of watching other people baking when you can’t stand up and do it yourself.” Stretch contemplated his pile of pens, his face screwed up comically, and his expression brightened into an ‘aha’ as he picked up one in bright orange. Of course.

“Stretch?”

“hmm?” he said absently, pen poised over the rough plaster.

“I love you.” Edge said it with all the deep, longing sweetness in his battered soul, the warmth that rose merely from thinking of Stretch, trying in some small way to project the depth of his love.

Stretch blinked and lowered his pen. Undyne might not normally be shrewd but Stretch very much was and his look was assessing. Wondering, perhaps, what happened while Undyne was here.

“i love you, too.” Then his mouth quirked in a lopsided smile. “but you’re interrupting art here.”

Edge smiled back and shook his head. “Far be it from me to play the part of philistine.”

“actually, this might end up more picasso,” Stretch mused, “guess we’ll see.” The tip of the sharpie touched down as Stretch began, but Edge didn’t watch his dubious attempt at art. Instead, he began inspecting the brain teaser his husband brought for him.

As if Stretch wasn’t a walking, talking brain teaser every day.

Edge lightly touched each joint as he contemplated how to begin, listening as Stretch hummed down by his feet, sketching something that would likely be terrible for him to love.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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louare-writings · 5 years

Text

Around mid-morning, Blumiere went to his workshop and sat down before his recent work in progress, staring at the wood grooves as he hefted his gouging tool in one hand. The tavern keeper wanted a statue as an attraction, and he knew he should work at it- Bruno would be stopping by any day now to pester him about it.

However his hands, always willing to begin carving into the supple wood, didn’t move. For once, Blumiere couldn’t even think about carving. All he could think about was her.

If the heavens had a face, it would be hers. He had come across her only by chance, hiking towards the mountains to fetch some pine wood for a new project. Her scream had echoed through the woods, shrill and terrified. Blumiere hadn’t even seen her fall, but had known exactly where it had come from, that crumbling cliff side by the river.

To think, he pondered, running his hands over the fissures in the wood, he had thought it was one of the children, venturing where they shouldn’t. To mistake a royal Lady like her for a child-

With a sigh, he dropped his tool, bending over to rest his elbows on his knees. Why glorify her, he thought, perhaps she was beautiful and fierce and frightening, but it wasn’t like he was ever going to see her again.

He stood up, brushed off his trousers, and with a last glance at the unfinished statue, blew out the lantern.

Outside, the clouds swirled overhead, dark and promising of rain. Blumiere locked the workshop door and walked slowly across the yard, deep in thought.

Lady Timpani Bleck. He knew her title ranked her as a noblewoman, but she was only about as old as he. He wondered what it was like for her, to wake up in his home; it was surely pitiful, compared to her usual lodgings.

He stopped on the stone path leading up to the back door, looking around at the garden and house. He built the cottage board by board, brick by brick. He had to commute between his fathers’ house until the roof was built, and then it was a few sleepless nights before he managed to have enough walls up to keep away the wind and the animals.

They tried so hard to help him, Blumiere thought, smiling as he took a few absent steps down the walk. But it was his work, his home, and perhaps it didn’t seem like much in the Lady’s eyes, but he wouldn’t wish to live anywhere else.

The rain began just as he closed the back door behind him. Blumiere hung the workshop keys on their nail by the door, then went to the window to watch it pour. Bruno wouldn’t stop by today he thought, and then he walked down the hall, intending to fix himself some lunch.

His traitorous feet, however, slowed to a halt as he passed in front of the guest bedroom door. It was cracked open. He hadn’t been inside since the day before.

He laid a rough hand on the smooth wood, and pushed. The door swung open, and revealed the warm room, the curtains undrawn, and the bed unmade. A picture was hanging crooked on the wall, and he straightened it with one hand as he stepped further into the room, running his eyes over the mess.

With a sigh, he shut the curtains and turned to the bedspread. The top blanket was fine, but the bottom sheet was stained with dark blood splatters.

Hers, he thought, and yanked off the top blanket. As he did, something fell out and hit the floor with a metallic cling, bouncing a few times and then rolling under the bed.

With a groan Blumiere got down on the floor and reached under the bed. After a moment, he pulled something out: a hair clip, in the shape of a butterfly. It was silver, with blue gems embedded on each wing. He rolled it around his palm, examining the wings. They were engraved with intricate decorative spirals, but one of the jewels was missing, leaving the design uneven.

After a moment, Blumiere tucked the clip in his pocket, and then set about taking off the sheets and soaking the stains.

----

Midafternoon, the rain stopped, and Blumiere sat in a kitchen chair, scratching away absently at a piece of scrap wood. There was a small scattering of wood shavings under his chair.

As water dripped off the shingles, Blumiere set aside the small carving and opened one of the windows, letting in the cool breeze brought by the storm. There would be more rain soon. He could tell by the clouds lingering above. With a sigh, the carpenter sat back at the kitchen table, and picked up the wood carving. He hadn’t had anything in mind, but there was the balloon curve of a gown emerging, and the familiar grooves of hair. He leaned back in the chair, stroking the piece with his thumb, thinking.

Then slowly, a picture of her in his mind, he began to carve.

Only minutes later, he was disturbed by a knock at the door. His fingers paused as he took in the noise, realized what it was, then intend to ignore it- but then the knocking came again, louder and harder. Blumiere sighed and set down his tools, and after brushing away wood shavings on his shirt, went to go answer it.

Couldn’t be Bruno, he thought, then re-evaluated; it was most definitely Bruno, always impatient, always hounding him for a commission. Of course Bruno would brave the rain to come bother him.

Blumiere was already sighing and scowling when he swung open the door. “Bruno, I…”

He stopped, unable to speak, because fear had caught his tongue and eaten it.

A member of the Tribe of Darkness was at his door.

Just from a glance, Blumiere knew the tribe member was powerful- it hung in the air around him like a shroud of mist before the storm. His clothes were spotless, and a mantle of silk hung from his shoulders, and a blue-jeweled cane rested in a white gloved hand.

“Let me in,” the Lord- for he could be nothing less than nobility-said, a sting of barely contained malice in his words.

Blumiere stepped aside. The Lord swept into his house.

With trembling legs he closed the door, then turned around to lean against it, watching the lord stride further into the living room. There was a look of disgust on his face as he examined it, muttering under his breath.

A tribe member, in his house, Blumiere thought. This was about her, Lady Timpani. It had to be. Something went wrong, she told them a lie or she didn’t make it-

His heart almost stopped when the tribe member turned to him. “Human. Come here.” The lord beckoned. Blumiere forced his cold limbs into movement, straightening and stumbling onto the couch as the lord pointed to it.

“There is something we need to discuss.” The lord said.

“Lady Timpani,” Blumiere spilled out. “Is she okay? Is she…” He fell silent as the lord tapped his cane against the floor.

“Yes,” The Lord said. “My daughter.”

Blumiere folded over a bit, clasping his trembling hands together.

“I understand you recently came into contact with her,” The Lord said. “My name in Lord Auberon of the Bleck clan, and I am very interested in this… contact.” Lord Auberon’s eyes flitted across the room, disgust curling his lips. “She maintains that you assisted her in recovering from a fall, allowing her to return to the castle safely.”

Blumiere nodded. “She was at the cliff base, and I…” He fell silent as the lord’s gaze returned to him.

“That is what she maintains.” He repeated. “You assisted her, and did not alert any others to her presence. Is that true?”

Blumiere nodded, and felt a bolt of fear run through him as a smile twisted the Lord’s thin lips.

“Perhaps my daughter is foolish enough to trust one like you, but I have never relied on a human’s word, and I never will,” Lord Auberon murmured.

Something began to cut through the air, something like the very manifestation of power, so thick and so angry Blumiere felt it as it caressed his skin.

“She trusts you enough to beg for your life, human.” Lord Auberon said, looming above, eyes filled with fire and still smiling. “I’m afraid I am weak to her. If it were not for her pleas, human, I would be here not to talk, but to raze your pitiful abode to the ground and let your blood stain the ashes.”

Blumiere’s eyes were very wide.

“Human,” Lord Auberon said. “If you ever come near my daughter again, I will do these things without a thought, no matter how she begs.”

His tone was a promise, and his eyes told it as one he would keep.

“You will not be allowed a quick death. You may scream and cry and pray, but will suffer to the very last breath that squeezes itself from your heaving lungs. This, I promise you, human.”

The thickness in the room squeezed him then, like a hand around his throat.

“Do you understand?”

He couldn’t speak, for the grip around his neck, but he managed a nod, tears welling in his eyes.

“Wonderful.”

The pressure eased and Blumiere bent over, gasping for air.

“I hope we do not see each other again,” Lord Auberon said, and then he swept out, slamming the door behind him.

Blumiere stayed with his head between his knees for a long time, rubbing at the aching in his throat and shivering with the aftershocks of the lord’s presence. It was dark out, when he finally straightened. All he could do was stumble toward the bedroom, and begin to ready for bed.

When he looked at himself in the mirror later, there were bruises in the shape of hands around his throat.

#chapter two of countess timpani au #fun....#timpani #blumiere #oc #auberon #count auberon #louisoo oc #louisoo writing

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so-not-starks-kid-37 · 5 years

Text

What have we done?

Pain. Thats all that Peter Parker felt when the arow in his hip exploded along with the traitors only escape out of the airport. He let out a loud scream as the AI in his new suit starts to show alarms at where he was hurt.

"KID!!"

Peter pulled up his mask and coughed up blood as he heard the heavy and light foot steps growing near. "You shouldn't have been in this fight you stupid spider!" He heard Clint yell as Natasha suddenly appeared in his line of vision.

Looking around he sees Mr. Starks tear stained face, Captain Americas shocked look, Buckys fear filled one, Wandas scared, sick face and then he saw Clint. The man went pale when he saw who Spider-Man was. "P-Pete...?" He whispers.

War Machine, Vision and T'Challa rush over to the scene. Vision immediately removes his cape and presses down on the wound to try and stop the bleeding. The scream that was ripped from the boy finally made Clint react.

The man ran over with tears in his eyes, pulling something out of his quiver but Tony knocked him back with a single punch. Landing backwards his hand flys out of his quiver and a white teddy bear with patch work on it suddenly flys out of his hand and lands near T'Challas foot.

The king carefully picked it up as Natasha begged the dying boy to stay awake. Getting onto his knees he gently holds the silently crying boys hand in his own. Putting the bear next to his head he saw how the boys frightened face became soft and fearless as if the plush toy took it all away.

"No, no, no, Peter! Peter stay with us baby. Please, please, please, please. I'm so sorry. Oh god this is all my fault. Please, please stay with me." Natasha begged him. "I-I'll get whatever you want, just please don't die."

Peters eyes looked towards Natasha as Tony sat behind him and put his head on his legs. "Petey....petey look at me kiddo..."

Peter looked up at Stark with dull eyes. "I'm so sorry. I promise I'll take care of May. I promise." He whispers as tears rolled down his cheeks. With shaky hands he gently rubs some blood off of the boys chin. "Even if it was only a short time...you were one of the best Avengers I have ever known. Now....get some rest. It's gonna be a long trip home."

"Th-Thank you...T-Tony...tell...May...love..d..he r..." The boys soft, blood gurgled voice whispers before his eyes slid shut and his chest stopped moving.

Peters head fell limp as Natasha screamed in agony at the sight. Sobbing she buries her face in Peters chest, praying to hear a heart beat but....there was nothing.

The sky turned gray as the group of Avengers begun to sob and cry for the young teen. Rhodey saluted him as Tonys suit came off and he used his suits coat to cover his face with. At least he can have a little respect for the dead.

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Natasha stares at her Widow Bite as the last three hours played in her head. She just tried to hit somebody above Peter...maybe it was Wanda...? She couldn't remember at the moment but she remember that it had hit Peter as soon as the arrow did.

She knew Clint had put a controlled explosion on the arrows so it should have just been like getting hit by those little popper firecrackers but due to the electricity from the bite it must've messed with the internals and caused it to explode like a grenade.

She grit her teeth and threw the weapon away from her with a loud sob. Curling up she grips at a small chain around her neck and pulls it out of her shirt. Staring at the locket she opens it to see a very old picture of a tiny, itty bitty Peter Parker and herself from the day he was born.

Sniffling she buries her face in her knees. "Peter...I'm so sorry..." She sobs out.

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

Clint hangs his head as he walks into the medical bay with cuffs on his hands, shackles around his ankles and tears in his eyes. He had killed Peter Parker. He killed his little nephew....

Going up to the lone bed in the center of the room he holds the pale, cold hand before breaking down. Sobbing he falls to his knees. He remembers. He remembers the first day he ever meet Peter...

Clint held Natashas hand as they listened to the screaming coming from the helicarriers medical bay. He wanted to take out his hearing aids but Natasha firmly stated that if he had to hear it then so did he.

Covering his ears he yelps when Natasha hit his shoulder. A second later a loud, shrill cry broke the air. Both spies were up in an instant as Fury, Hill and Coulson ran over holding some food and blue gift bags.

The doors opened and a tired looking man with brown hair and a lab coat came out with the biggest grin anyone had ever seen. "It's a boy!" He says making the group cheer and pat his shoulder.

Clint peeked into the room to see an exhausted brown haired woman he knew all to well but now she was holding somebody he didn't know that he really, really wanted to meet. "Clint? Do you wanna go in and see Peter?" The man asks with a smile.

"Peter? That's his name? Yeah! Can I?" Clint asks quickly, wanting to just go in.

The man chuckles and moves for Clint to come in. The man instantly flew over and looked at the itty bitty little thing in the womans arms. He hesitantly reached out for the baby, not to take it but to poke it. The woman chuckles softly.

"Clint he's not going to bite you. He has no teeth." The woman says with a soft smile.

"S-Sorry Mary." He spoke in a soft voice as he gently took the baby into his arms. Kissing the top of his head he held him as gently as he could. "He's so tiny. Almost like a kitten."

Mary smiles softly at the sight. "All babies are tiny Clint." She says in a exhausted voice. "Richard? You can let the others in my love."

A moment later the baby was gently taken into Furys arms as Richard took some photos. Clint smiles as he looks at the little baby now in Natashas arms. A gentle hand on his arm made him look at Mary with a soft smile.

"Clint I need you to promise me something. We have a very dangerous job here. If anything were to ever happen to us I want you to promise me that you'll protect, love and care for Peter in our absence. Please.." Mary whispers.

Clint looks at the baby who was now being stolen by Coulson and chuckles. He nods and kisses Marys hand. "I promise you Mary. I will always protect your boy. No matter what."

Sobbing he looks at the bear on the dead boys chest. He had given that to Peter as a sort of theaphy bear after what had happened with his parents. It's almost been four years since their deaths and Peter had never gotten over it fully. They had died on the helicarrier during Lokis attack but...Peter had also been there. He had seen it all.

Clint didn't know how long he sat there but a hand on his shoulder made him look up to notice that the room was fairly darker meaning it was now night time. Hiccuping he stands and lets the Iron Man suit take him to his cell.

Sitting on his cot he looks up at the poster that Stark had put up on his wall. He didn't know how he did it but he did. The poster was a blown up photo of Peter and Clint soaking wet when the boy was twelve years old and they had his first barbeque. He remembered the water balloons that flew through the air that day.

Tears fell down his cheeks as he looked at the poster of the smiling boy.

"What have I done...?" Clint whispers.

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

Tony looked up at the door of the Parker apartment. He wasn't ready for this...but he had to be strong. Rhodey squeezed his shoulder as he knocked on the door.

The lady who answered smiled brightly. "Hey! Have you come to bring my little trouble maker home?" May Parker asks with a smile.

"May....you have to sit down." Tony states firmly.

May instantly frowns and invites them in as she sat down. "Ok...now whats going on? Wheres Peter? Is he ok?" She questions.

Tony takes a torn up Spider-Man suit out of a bag in his hand as Rhodey pulled out a flag with the Avengers symbol on it from his own.

"As stated in the Avengers code...Stark Industries will take care of the funeral, anything they leave behind goes to next of kin and if there is no next of kin then it goes into the museum. Peter Parker aka Spider-Man leaves behind his Spider suits, a stuffed bear, a backpack, pajamas, cellphone, shoes, one belt and a bracelet that was found in his backpack that had been empty except for an inhaler and medication." Tony starts.

May looks up at Tony with tears in her eyes. She shakes her head as her hands flew up to her face. "I will take care of you, any bills you have and as his last wish was...." Tony has to take in a shaky breath before continuing. "His last words were tell Aunt May I love her."

May screamed out in agony as her heart tore into pieces. Sobbing into her hands she hears Tonys breathing become irregular. "I-I'm so sorry May...I'm so sorry." He sobs out. "H-He died from a exploding arrow in his gut that had been activated from a charge from a-a widow bite..."

May sobbed louder and harder as she realised who killed her baby. Curling up she sobs into her knees. Oh god...what am I gonna do...?

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

It's a rainy day when Peter Parker is put to rest in between his parents and his uncle. Everybody at the funeral cried and placed white lilies in front of his tombstone. May had tried to attack Natasha and Clint for being near the funeral for the boy they murdered.

But now....now it was just Tony, Vision, May, Logan, Ned, the super (ex) spies, Fury, Hill, Coulson and Charles Xavier. Logan pushed Charles up where the man carefully placed a white rose on the grave stone that was being protected from the rain.

"I wish we could have gotten together for another match of chess my dear boy. But I know you will always be by me through spirit." Charles whispers with tears in his eyes.

Moving the professor, Logan stepped up with a bottle of beer and a single white rose in hand. Placing it on the stone with the beer he whispers to it, making sure the others couldn't hear him.

"Come on bub....come outta there....please...please come out. Please come back to us....we all miss ya. We just want you back. I...I want ya back." Logan whispered as tears fell down his face. Standing he goes over to Xavier and holds his hand to try and calm himself.

Fury, Hill, Coulson, Natasha, Clint and May moved forward and gently placed six bundles of lilacs, hyacinth and gardenias down on the tombstone (three on each side). May turned into Furys arms and sobbed loudy.

Ned and Vision go next with orchids, green roses and pink chrysanthemums tied with a red and blue ribbon. Ned falls to his knees and sobs into his hands loudly. Tony watches them then looks at his bundle of red, blue and gold flowers that he had forgotten the names of.

Taking a breath he gently puts the flowers down. Looking up at the sky, Tony cursed from how unfair it was. Looking at the (ex) spies he watches the hope drain from their faces. "Finally realised that this wasn't a nightmare?" He growls out. Both of them flinch. "You caused this. This is all your fault and I hope your happy."

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

Three months later...

Tony sighs as he walks his way to Peters grave. He had barely known the kid but he had actually really, really started to like him. Happy gently put his hand on his shoulder as they walk. He almost forgot he was there.

Once at the grave he saw a little lump just laying there surrounded by flowers and a strange looking man in a cape. Rushing over he checked the mans pulse then looked at the little lump. Gently picking it up his breathing stopped.

It was a child, couldn't be more than five. Removing the blanket from around his head he flicks a beetle off of it before looking the child over. He had soft, milk chocolate curls on his head, chubby cheeks and a Iron Man T-Shirt peeking out of the blanket that was still wrapped around him.

The man next to him sat up. "I see you found Loki and I's gift." He says in a soft voice. He stretches before continuing. "This is Peter Parker, age six but he looks four, allergic to avocados and his favorite hero is Iron Man."

Tony looks at the man like he was crazy. "What? I had to come collect his soul after making his vesal. It was Lokis idea to make him allergic to avocados so don't blame me when he can't have guacamole." The man says as he stood.

"W-What the hell are you talking about?!" Tony yells.

"Oh right. My apologies. My name is Stephen Strange or Dr. Strange. I know I can trust you since I can just remove Peter from your life again so I will tell you this. I am a wizard and the holder of the time stone. I used it the other day to look into the future. I saw the suicides of Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff along with yours. So I had to stop it. After gaining permission I went in search for Loki to help me make this boys body along with visiting Ned Leeds and Vision Stark for info on him. I visited a few others and I believe I have everything right. Now when he awakes you can take him home and raise him as your own." Strange states before suddenly disappearing through a red portal.

Tony and Happy look at each other. "What the fuck just happened?!" They yell until a soft whimper came from the blanket.

Tony looked down and watched as "Peter" rubbed his eyes with a big yawn. He tore his gaze away from the adorable child to a grave stone next to Ben Parker. He couldn't bring him to May anymore so...

"Daddy?" A little voice whispers.

Tony looked down into big chocolate brown eyes and watched the boy reach up to touch his hair. "Daddy has grays..." The boy giggles.

Tony smiles softly and kisses the childs head. "Because you scared the heck outta me. They just popped out." He chuckles.

Peter giggles when Happy sat next to them. "We bringing him home?" Happy asks softly.

"Of course." Tony states. "Call the others. My baby bot and I need ta go shoppin' for his new room."

Happy chuckles and nods. Helping him stand he leads his boss and the new Stark to the car. Hopefully they'll be able to raise the kid right.

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

Two days later....

"Oi! Let him go you two! He's doing his potty dance!" Tony yells at the two spies who were clutching Peter like a life line.

"He can go in his pamper." Clint says as he squeezes Peter and Natasha to his chest.

"I gotta poop!" Peter yells making a passing by Bucky choke on his coffee.

Clint and Natasha immediately let him go so he could run to the bathroom. "Make sure you close the door this time baby!" Tony calls out before wacking both spies on the head. "What the fuck are you even doing up here?! I told you he was off limits until I can make sure he doesn't remember his death!"

"Ow! Sorry! We....we just wanted to have our baby back." Clint whispers painfully.

"Well he's my son now so back off." Tony growls.

"Hey he's my runt too!" Logan yells out from the fridge.

"Mine too." Fury, Hill, Coulson, Xavier, Bucky, Steve, Happy and Pepper chime in...in unison. Creepy.

"M-Mine too." Bruce meekly calls out from Thors lap.

"Mine as well!" Thor yells out.

"Yo!" Scott, Rhodey and Sam call out.

Vision didn't speak up since Peter was already his brother. Tony groaned and shook his head. "Hey your Spanish right? So why can't he have a lot of names?" Natasha questions.

"I am Italian you racist plus thats to many! Peter Stark-Rogers-Lang- Wilson-Rhodes-Barnes-Fury-Hill-Coulson-Banner-Hogan-Potts-Odinson-Howlett-Xavier-Romanoff-Barton? Shit I'm outta breath..." Tony groans.

"You forgot Laufeyson. I did give birth to him after all." Loki says as he pours himself some wine.

"What?"

"Why else do you think Strange sought me out? I'm a man who can have a child. Do you want his egg shell? I had to birth him that way or else you would have had to wait an extra eight months." Loki states as he sips his wine.

"Ok...so...Peter Stark-Laufeyson-Rogers-Lang-Wilson-Rhodes-Barnes-Fury-Hill-Coulson-Banner-Hogan-Potts-Odinson-Howlett-Xavier-Romanoff-Barton...still to many." Tony says in a bit of a surprised voice. "Also yes."

"I like it!"

Tony yelps when his new son is suddenly next to him. "Now everyone is my family!" The boy giggles.

The whole room chuckles and smiles...until Vision speaks up. "Peter where are your clothes?" He asks.

Peter looks down at himself and fixes his pamper. "I put them in the toilet to wash later. Don't worry I flushed my potty first!" Peter smiles.

"Did....did you flush your clothes?" Vision questions.

"Yes! They're on a rinse bicycle!" Peter smiles until Friday alerts to a bathroom flooding. "Uh oh."

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mysweetestcreature · 6 years

Text

Wish Upon A Star (StepBro!Harry) Extras: Reunion

Request: I need a little blurb of both of them attending one of those school reunion/parties with all their old schoolmates and when they are married and shes pregnant and hot. Everyone probably already know about then because instagrM and gossip but they are still the talk of the party and harry is all smug bc his love look gorgeous carrying his bub and they don’t care for the looks. I don’t know i just love mess and drama lol

A/N: I had to change it up just a bit to match the timeline xx

***

To say they’re a bit anxious to be attending this milestone event would be an understatement. It’s still hard to wrap their minds around having completed their sixth-form, and yet so much has happened since then. They’re married, have real-world jobs, and have two perfect little boys.

“You two look so adorable!” Y/n claps her hands together as she gazes happily at them dressed in matching suspenders and bowties. “Look, Daddy!” she picks up a one-year-old Declan off the bed and waves his arm out to her husband. The baby squeals and excitedly calls for Harry.

Harry looks up from adjusting his sleeves and dramatically gasps and reaches for his son. “Take after me, don’t you, bub?” he coos and tickles his tummy. Giggles bounce off the walls, and Declan can’t help but squirm in glee as the tips of his daddy’s fingers scurry across his plump body. Harry gives him a big kiss to his head, then turns back to his missus. She’s wearing a dark blue satin dress she’d bought for the occasion, that accentuates all the right parts of her figure. If the kids weren’t here with them, he’d be more enticed to see it in a pool around her feet. “Baby, we ready to go?” She holds up her pointer while she tucks Luca’s shirt back into his pants––he’s already getting fussy, a true sign that he’s Harry’s son.

“It’s only a few hours, alright, my love?” she tells him when he starts pouting. Luca holds his arms up, standing on his tippy toes, in desperate need for his mumma to carry him. With her eldest balanced on her hip, she surveys their hotel room to make sure everything’s in order. “Oh!” she spots the invitation on the nightstand and quickly drops it in her purse.

***

WELCOME BACK!

The banner is big and bold as it hangs on top of the main entrance. There are a few groups of ex-students spread across the pavement. Y/n recognizes some of them as cheerleaders that used to ask¬¬––beg––her to set them up with her “brother.” One of them spot the family, and it’s all hushed whispers being exchanged, with not-so-sneaky glances their way.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to stare? Or were you all too busy toying with your hair to learn proper etiquette?” Y/n instantly smiles when she hears the familiar voice. Carrie glares at the group of nosey women, her hands firmly at her hips as she barks another insult their way. When they all disperse in different directions, she turns to her best friend, demeanor having taken a complete 360. “I’m so glad you guys are here!” she squeals, and wraps her arms around Y/n. It’s been a while since they’ve seen each other. Unlike Y/n and Harry, she’d opted to remain in Manchester and runs a cute little boutique in town.

A slight huff erupts from in between them, and Carrie coos at her cranky godson. “Say hi to Auntie Carrie, bub,” Y/n nudges her youngest. Declan had fallen asleep in the car and has yet to adjust to the new surroundings. He shyly lifts his hand up to wave, before he’s snuggling back into his mumma’s neck.

“Lemme take him, love,” Harry reaches for Declan, “It’s good to see you, Carrie. Where’s Jameson?” He had been all too amused to learn that the two had gotten together a few years ago. In fact, if he can recall correctly, that particular day had been his and Y/n’s wedding. Carrie blushes and tells them that her fiancé will be arriving a little later.

The lot walk inside, Y/n holding on to Luca’s hand as they enter the gymnasium that’s been completely transformed into a proper party space. Although, it does sort of give off prom vibes––not that she would know because her and Harry hadn’t even attended––but it’s still a cute attempt. Luca gets excited when he sees a few balloons on the floor, picking one up and showing it to his brother. “Daddy can we take this home with us?” And then he’s gathering as many of them in his small arms as possible, which is only three, but he won’t rain on his son’s parade.

***

It’s when Harry is getting his missus a refill of her beverage when he feels someone tap lightly on his shoulder. He hands Luca some juice that he had poured a few moments prior before he turns around. Hopefully he isn’t as transparent to the rest of the world as he is to his wife because then the person in front of him would see how he’s just internally groaned.

“Harry! It’s been too long!” the woman’s shrill voice hurts his ears, and she throws herself onto him.

He awkwardly pats her shoulder, “Erm…hi, Georgina.” She pulls away and plays with break lines of his jacket. Her fingers fiddle with one the buttons as she smiles up at him, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“You look so good. I heard you’re some hotshot architect in London. Hmm, I always knew you’d do great things,” she says dreamily. Harry tries to politely swat her hand away from him, appearing to be simply dusting off his jacket. He looks down to his son, who’s just gulped up the last bit of his apple juice.

“Want more, bub?”

“Yes, please, Daddy,” Luca holds up his cup, giving Harry a sweet grin. The young boy then stares at the lady who had been touching his daddy. “Who are you?” his voice suspicious. She reminds him a lot of the redhead that’s always annoying Naomi. And he knows very well that the redhead doesn’t like his mumma, and he doesn’t like that.

“So, the rumors are true then? You married your sis-” she eyes the spawn, but Harry’s taking Luca’s hand in his and gestures over to where his wife and other son sit with Jameson and Carrie.

“C’mon, Mumma’s been waiting for her drink, yeah?” And he’s leading them away. He looks over his shoulder. “Nice talking to you.” They nearly make it safely back to their table when the pang of her voice accompanied by the tapping of her heels has Harry visibly flinching.

Thankfully he’s just caught Y/n’s attention. She gets up, Declan clinging to her like a koala and cocks an eyebrow at her husband. Luca runs over to her, hugging her leg as he whispers something about the Wicked Witch’s sister trailing behind them. Y/n lifts her gaze from her son and her lips purse into a straight line when she sees her. Even ten years after they’ve left this place, and the sight of Georgina Rupert still makes her blood boil.

“Georgina,” she tightly greets when she comes within close radius of the family. “How lovely to see you.” The last time they’d seen her was when she had tried to convince Harry to take her to prom. Oh, how Y/n would have loved to tell her off then.

“Don’t know if I can say the same,” Georgina says though gritted teeth. “You two have got some nerve, showing up tonight. Caused quite the ruckus when the news erupted because who would have thought that everyone’s favorite siblings have been banging each other all this time. And it seems you’ve brought along the devil spawns.” Her eyes dart between the two boys. Harry’s hand tenses from where it rests on her waist. No one talks about his family like that, it has his insides churching with animosity. But when he looks at his wife, she remains cool and level-headed.

“And it seems that you’re still single,” Y/n replies bluntly. Harry covers his mouth with his wife’s shoulder, but the vibrations erupting from his chest are obvious. He loves it when she drops her filter, there’s something so satisfying about it. “I heard you were engaged. So sad to hear that he cheated on you, and with your own sister? That’s just rotten luck.”

***

When it comes time to chat with his former football mates, he has Y/n snug at his side, as they all catch up. While a few of them have known about the relationship for some time––they’d been the ones invited to the wedding––many of the others shift wearily in place. It’s just a bit awkward, as some of them had had a thing for Y/n in their teenage years and didn’t think anything of it because she was their mate’s sister. If he’s being honest, he quite likes that he’s able to show her off to the rest of them, like he wishes he could have done when they were still in school.

From time to time, he’ll just look down to meet her eyes, and then his lips would be on hers for a quick (or not-so-quick) kiss.

“You know, just because you guys are married doesn’t make the PDA any less weird,” Jameson jokes, but Carrie swats his arm.

“They’re cute and in love, let them be,” she counters. “Maybe you should pay attention and learn a few things from Harry.” She chuckles as Jameson rolls his eyes and pulls her closer to his chest. Harry does the same, kissing her temples as he watches his sons play with some faltered balloons off by the DJ table.

Luca and Declan had become quite the hit at the party. Everything thought they were the cutest little boys ever. (Their father had so willingly taken credit to their undeniably good looks. If Declan hadn’t shared some of his mum’s features, he would’ve said that he birthed them himself.) He doesn’t even pretend to not to see the jealous looks they’re getting because his life is pretty great. In ten years, he’s got a job that he loves, two kids that he absolutely adores, and a wife that he’s so in love with.

Who wouldn’t be jealous?

#stepbro!harry #stepbro!harry blurb #bub blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles drabble #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles au

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