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gurugirl · 1 year

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A Delicate Thing* (check-in)

Summary: Y/n wants to know what's going on with her father and Harry doesn't want her to worry about it. But there's a big piece of news she wants to reveal when her worries are finally quelled.

A/n: You guys begged for more of this one and I started this check-in a bit ago but never finished it (until today!). Hope you enjoy! This is a check-in for A Delicate Thing (mafia!harry). 3.8k words.

Warning: 18+ only, smut, talk of violence and murder, anxious feelings

♤♤♤♤

It took a while for Y/n to get comfortable with the idea that she was no longer under the thumb of her father, William, and was now the Boss’s girl. She was treated with respect everywhere she went, was pampered, cared for, and doted upon by Harry.

But as the months turned into a year, she began to understand how awful her life had been before Harry. Her father kept a close watch on her. Told her not to eat too much, to wear certain clothes, to become acquainted with important topics but to act as if she didn’t understand, and worst of all was the way he enjoyed showing her off to his associates. She hated William.

“What are you thinking about,” Harry pulled her into his lap one morning as he sat at the kitchen table and drank his tea.

“I was just… it’s stupid. It’s in the past.”

“It’s not stupid. Don’t say that. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

She put her hands up to the lapel of his suit and sighed before beginning, “Thinking about William. How much I hate him. For everything he did to me. And now he’s bragging about how his daughter is the Boss’s girl… as if he had anything to do with it.”

Harry hummed and had his palm spread out over her thigh, the silk material of her nighty smooth under his hand, “Is he now? I think it’s time for me to give him a lesson once and for all. But only if you want me to. I don’t want to do anything that will have you upset.”

“What will you do?”

“Hmm…” Harry pursed his lips to the side for a moment, “What would you like? Demotion? Public reprimand?”

Shaking her head she kept her eyes on her lover, “Something worse.”

Nodding his head he spoke again, “Have someone break his arms? Cut him off from the family?”

“Maybe that. Cutting him off. I think that would be the worst for him. And I wouldn’t need to see him again.”

“Your wish is my command, my love.”

♤♤♤♤

Harry didn’t like to spend time away from his girl. Before she came along he’d take trips for work and never think a second thought about being away from some chick he might have been seeing. But with Y/n, she was his everything. So he started having her come with him if the trip wasn’t going to be too dangerous. Even if it was only for one night. He didn’t like not having her in his bed at the end of a long day.

And now he was currently away for work and had brought Y/n along with him. They traveled with his underboss, Brad, to visit an associate to come to some kind of agreement. Y/n wasn’t sure of the details, she just knew she’d be staying at the large mansion during the day with security outside while Harry, his underboss, and the associate were meeting somewhere unknown.

Harry was generally a busy man. He came home late sometimes but he always came home and he always called her when he was on his way back to her.

It was nearly 9 pm and she was freshly bathed and wrapped in a thick robe as she watched TV from the bed. Her phone rang with the tone she set for Harry and she leaned over to pluck it up, “Hi,” she smiled widely.

“Hi, baby. I’m on my way back, okay? How was your day?”

“Oh it was good,” she plopped back down into the pile of pillows behind her and sighed, “George’s chef made me a really big brunch and I swam in the pool for a while.”

“Good girl. Sounds nice. Can’t wait to see you, baby.”

Harry was the most attentive and loving man she’d ever met. There wasn’t a day that had gone by since he took her away from William, that she didn’t feel his love for her. And she loved returning that love to him just the same.

When he finally returned to George’s mansion and entered their bedroom, half expecting her to be at the front door when he pulled up, he understood why. She was lying on the bed, naked, her legs open and facing the door (on purpose he supposed). He swiftly closed the door behind him as she grinned at him, “Hi, Harry.”

Harry slid his jacket off and draped it at the foot of the bed and climbed in between her legs, hooking the underside of her knees over his shoulders, “Hi, baby,” he spoke in a whisper before he kissed the inside of her thighs and then got to work right away.

He’d woken her up much in the same way, lapping at her slowly until she was shaking and gasping as quietly as possible, not wanting to let anyone else hear what they were doing.

And just like the morning, she was quickly brought to her end with her palm covering her mouth and her other hand grasping the blankets below.

When he let go of her legs and her body melted into the bed below she lulled her head to the side to watch Harry as he pulled his pants and his briefs off and climbed over her frame. She realized what he was doing immediately so she opened her mouth wide for him, sticking her tongue out before he stuffed his cock into her mouth and pressed down into her throat, her soft lips wrapped around him and she coughed around his tip.

Harry grasped the back of her head up from the pillow underneath and rolled his hips down into her. He’d gotten her used to taking him like this. She was always eager to please him, though, so it didn’t take much work. Soon, she was a natural at opening up her throat and letting him fuck her mouth until she was drooling and gagging happily.

“Baby, fuck… Needed this all day.”

And he really had needed it. He left her in the morning without having had anything in return because he didn’t have time. She was always his priority. He always made sure she got off first, even if that meant he didn’t have time to also get off.

But now they had time. They could sleep in the next day and he could fuck her brains out, almost literally in that moment, with his cock filling her mouth and inching its way into her throat.

When she signaled she needed a breath he pulled out and brushed the hair from her face. She gasped and drew breaths into her lungs for a moment before opening her mouth up and lifting her head to find his cock again.

“Hold on, love… needy girl,” he chuckled as he moved off of her. He was ready to make love to her, feel her warm pussy, and make her come once more with him. Fill her with his come.

He preferred coming inside of her pussy lately. Harry wanted to get his girl pregnant. Wanted to knock her up and really have a claim on her. She was already his, but he dreamed of having her carrying his babies. A good handful of them. And when he brought it up to her a few months ago, she agreed she’d like that too. She wanted to give him as many babies as he wanted.

Harry laid on his back and pulled Y/n over him, “Want to see you fucking yourself on my cock and coming again.”

She loved doing this. When Harry would lie flat on the bed and she’d climb over him, his big cock reaching deep and spreading her apart, her knees down as she leaned back and put her hands over his thighs, sliding over him, giving him a good view of the way she liked to fuck herself on him. Then he’d thumb at her clit and she’d tip over the edge.

She positioned herself over him and lowered onto his dick, her hands on his pecs at first. Harry put his hands behind his head as he watched Y/n work herself down over him. Small, muted moans fell from her lips and Harry groaned at the way she felt around him.

When she’d taken him in and she was seated over him she hissed at how deep he was. It always ached so nicely, “Your tip is pushing into my womb. I can feel it. You’re going to get me pregnant, Harry,” she spoke as she leaned back, putting her palms over his well-muscled thighs and began rolling her hips, her labia parting and spread as his wide cock was stuffed into her.

Harry’s mouth dropped open at the sight and her words. She was filthy sometimes without even trying, “Fuck. You want my come deep inside your womb?” He spoke through gritted teeth, the way she was moving over him felt too good, “Gonna milk my cock of everything I have and get yourself pregnant, baby? Let’s see it. Let me see how you fuck my cock and make me come inside of you, greedy girl.”

She nodded and whined as she continued her work, slipping up and down his long prick, her arousal making a mess of him. Soon, she planted her feet flat onto the bed and began to really move over him, lifting upward and coming down with a wet smack each time.

Harry was panting and grunting, gently shifting his own hips upward out of instinct. He couldn’t help but to respond to her creamy pussy as she squeezed and moved over him.

“Oh god… Harry, please!” She gasped louder than she wanted. Her little plea was something he’d gotten used to during their year together. It meant she wanted to come but needed help.

So Harry swiftly moved his hands from behind his head and sat upward enough that he could reach to rub her clit and give it the kind of pressure she required.

“That’s it, baby. Take what you need. Use my cock, baby.” Harry’s words were tight and breathy as he spoke in between pants.

“I want your come so bad. Want to make you a daddy.”

Harry nearly burst at that moment but he groaned and closed his eyes as he sped up his fingers at her clit. She was nearly there. Just a few more minutes.

When her thighs began to shake and her moans grew louder and her words were incoherent curses and babbles of nonsense he knew she was feeling or orgasm bubble up and begin to spread.

Yes, fuck, yes! Come on baby,” he moaned as he watched her face contort as her jaw dropped and she threw her head back suddenly, a loud call of his name followed by unhindered moans as she came. Her pussy pulsed around him as she got herself off with his cock. Harry groaned and released into her, bucking his hips up to push himself into the hilt and to get as close to her deepest spots inside as possible making her tits softly bounce.

“Fuck, baby!” He growled lowly as his come filled her up, his throbbing dick being squeezed and fucked as he came.

When Harry opened his eyes she was lying over his chest, small puffs of breath coming out as she recovered. Harry rubbed his palms over her back and kissed her forehead, “Love you, sweet girl.”

♤♤♤♤

Now, one of the reasons for Harry going to his associate's home 8 hours away from where they lived was to also discuss the fate of William. Harry had told Y/n he could just cut him off. And he could. That decision was Harry’s. But cutting someone off and ex-communicating them from the family was more difficult than just killing them. There were a few reasons for that but in the end, Harry wanted to make his girl happy. So he needed some advice from his associate who happened to be well acquainted with William from work dealings.

Breakfast was served the in mansion’s large dining room with tall windows and gaudy curtains hung. Everyone was at the table. Harry and his girl, his underboss Brad, the associate George, and his wife Blanca.

And Y/n didn’t know the details of what was going on. Nor did she know the status of her father. Harry kept her in the dark from most of their dealings on purpose. So when she heard her father’s name mentioned her ears perked up and she looked at Harry, who she was sitting on at that moment. He insisted she sit in his lap, which was not out of the ordinary. Most of Harry’s work partners and friends had gotten used to seeing the girl in his lap almost all the time.

“So he’s been a problem lately?” George spoke.

“He’s been a problem for a long time. We’d like to have him cut off from the family but we don’t know if he’s involved in anything else. And since you work with him regularly I thought I’d see if you had heard of anything else he might have his hands in. Money owed, things like that.”

Brad spoke next, “I told the boss we should just make him go away for good but the girl here is William’s daughter.”

George nodded, “I see. That makes this a difficult thing to say then, because I don’t see any way to cut him off with how many people would be after him. If you push him out and send him away without the protection of the family, he’ll be killed either way. But not before probably spilling details about your organization. And mine. He’ll be tortured and he’ll talk. It could compromise a lot of our operations.”

Y/n stayed quiet as she listened to the men talk about her father. She hadn’t realized this was a possibility. That William would need to be killed. It was one thing to have him cut off and she’d never hear from or see him again. But to know that he might be killed? Dead?

“Yes. That is my concern. I’d like a list of all of the relationships and affairs he’s got going on with your organization and then we’ll put something together on our end and make a decision about this,” he squeezed Y/n’s hip to let her know he was still keeping her wishes in mind.

On the road back home, Y/n finally voiced her concern about her father, “So we can’t cut him off or send him away, because that risks everything. But if he stays on in the organization… is there any other option?”

Harry wound their fingers together and pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles, “You mean other than killing him? Sure. But I don’t think you’ll like any of the other options.”

“Tell me.”

“Well, he could just continue working and making money for us. I could keep him away from you but he will be around. Another thing that could work would be to frame him and send him to prison for good. He’d be protected in prison but you’d never have to see him again.”

“But won’t he talk to the police? Tell them he’d been set up?”

“Not if I make it look like a sacrifice of honor. Tell him I’ll raise his title and thus his respect in the organization. He won’t roll on us if he knows he’ll be doing it for the family and that he’ll be earning the respect of everyone.”

“But what would you frame him for? What would put him away in prison forever?”

“Murder.”

♤♤♤♤

Y/n understood that sometimes things in the organization could be violent. People died, went to jail, wound up in hospitals… But to think about her father being framed for a murder he didn’t commit? Could she come to terms with that? Who would have to die? Who would kill the person? She asked all these questions but, as usual, Harry told her not to worry.

But she was worried. And not just about William. She’d gotten news of something else that morning that shocked her. It shouldn’t have but it did. Unfortunately, the lingering questions she had about her father overshadowed everything else that was on her mind.

She hated William. That was true. But she didn’t want him dead. She also didn’t want Harry to get into trouble for anything. And when it came down to it, when she thought about all the outcomes, the worst were always the ones that had Harry in prison and away from her or dead. She actually preferred her dad dead than to have Harry go to prison.

Even though it had been weeks since Harry had met with George, she still hadn’t gotten word about what was going to become of William and she felt anxious. She hated not knowing. She trusted Harry but she needed to know what the plan was. She wanted Harry to tell her everything. It was for a reason that he kept her in the dark about things, but this was personal for her. This specific thing was about her father.

When Harry came home that evening their routine looked much like it normally did. Y/n climbed into his lap and kissed him and he held her and decompressed for a bit before he was ready to finally eat. She heated his food and poured him a glass of wine and they sat together at the dining table and she told him about her day.

But underneath what felt very normal to Harry, Y/n was getting up the nerve to insist he tell her the plan regarding William.

When she put his plate into the dishwasher and refilled her own glass of wine she joined him on the couch and curled into his side and sighed.

Looking up at him she realized there was nothing to worry about. Harry had never been mean to her or made her feel bad for asking questions. He’d either tell her or he wouldn’t. She only hoped she was able to argue her point and make him understand that this was something she deserved to know.

“What’s going on with William? Have you decided anything?”

Harry continued softly rubbing his hand over her hip and her side as he spoke, “I don’t want you to worry about it, love. Okay? Everything is going to be taken care of.”

She knew he’d answer that way. But she was prepared.

“I trust you, Harry. I really do. But this is my father. And this is personal to me. And you tell me not to worry but I do and I can’t help but to worry.”

Harry turned to look at his girl and nodded in thought. He knew it was personal to her. And normally when he told her not to worry about something she’d drop it. But the fact that she was doubling down on this made him pause. He still didn’t want her to know. He wanted to protect her from the awful truth.

“My sweet girl. I know this is personal. But what good will it do for you to know how we’ll go about this? You know our options here and none of them are very nice. I don’t want you to be upset thinking about it and dwelling on it.”

Y/n turned herself to face Harry squarely, “I’m already dwelling on it. I need to know. I deserve to know. I wouldn’t ask you and insist on something that doesn’t somehow involve me. But this does. I need to know.”

Harry smiled and took a deep breath, bringing his hands up to her face, and gently drew her in for a small kiss before he sat back into the couch and cleared his throat, “One of George’s men was involved in something that got him brutally killed. Right now we’ve made it look like William was the murderer. It’s only a matter of time before the police investigate him and find him guilty. And as you may know, your father has been arrested for battery and assault multiple times in the past and so a murder charge wouldn’t surprise anyone looking to find the perpetrator. He will go to prison for a very long time because the murder was quite savage. If the police think William did that, they won’t want him released.”

Y/n nodded and bit her lip before speaking up, “And like you said at George’s, he’ll think he’s doing a favor to the family? He won’t talk?”

“Exactly. We’ll make sure of it. We’ll supply him with plenty of my money on his account for commissary, and bartering. And he’ll have a nice cell by himself. He’ll be treated well but we’ll never have to worry about him again.”

She let out a breath of relief. It was ideal if it worked, “And you’re sure this will work out?”

Harry let out a small laugh and pulled at her, bringing her to his lap, his favorite way of sitting with her, “Baby, it’ll work. If you don’t think we have a cop on our payroll to make sure of it then you must not realize the kind of power I have.”

Y/n smiled and put her arms over his shoulders, “I know how powerful you are. And I am so happy I’m here with you,” she brought her arms down and took Harry’s hands in hers, moving his palms to cover her low tummy, “So happy for everything that’s to come.”

Harry stitched his brows together as he took in her words and her gesture, looking from where she placed his hands to her face, “Are you… is this?”

She nodded quickly, “We’re gonna have a baby.”

He was stunned into silence. He hadn’t expected it. Sure they’d been a little loose with him coming in her during her fertile days, and he knew they were both in their prime and fully fertile so it shouldn’t have been such a surprise. This was what they had wanted.

“You… when did you find out?” Harry cupped her tummy with more intention now, his eyes wide.

“This morning.”

He let out a small breath and grinned from ear to ear, his dimples carving into his cheeks, and pushed Y/n off of his lap and down to the couch as he lifted her dress upward so he could look at her tummy, placing small kisses all around her skin and over her belly button. Y/n squeaked in laughter at the way his curls brushed her soft flesh as he drew his lips over her tummy slowly. She put her hands into his hair and sighed, “I love you, Harry.”

Harry nodded and continued dragging his mouth downward until he lowered her panties and looked up at her from between her legs, “I love you too, baby. Now let’s celebrate.”

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justrainandcoffee · 1 month

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The sun always rises again (Farrier x fem!oc) Part III - FINAL.

Masterlist || Part I - Part II

Summary: Maggie hears the news from Collins || Farrier is now a prisoner of war but he's not ready to give up yet. He promised to return home and that's what he is determined to do no matter what it costs. || Farrier meets a new friend.

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort. Happy ending. I did research on the second world war, but probably some events written here are inaccurate. I invented Farrier's fate (the real "Farrier" was never captured, so...)

Words: 2.5k.

Thanks to those who reblogged and commented this story. Love you, girls. I enjoyed this new journey.

1940

Collins felt the chill wind in his face when he was arriving at the Farrier's house. In his mind he had the right words to tell her, but not to the kids.

How do you tell them that his father wasn't coming? They were really young and like Daisy, that pretty girl said, they needed to have hope, too. Even him.

It wasn't sure that William was indeed dead, but Collins calculated the distance and assumed that he landed in enemy territory. So almost probably he was captured. He needed to speak to his superiors but the Farriers were priority to him in that moment.

The Geneva convention offered his friend protection, in theory. That, if the Germans respected what they signed, which Collins wasn't sure but it was best that to think the worst. If so, they could set free with the condition that he wasn't going to attack them again. Or probably Farrier, if he survived, was going to wait till the end of the war. Farrier had a combative spirit but also he wasn't so reckless like he was years ago before meeting Maggie. He loved his profession, but the love he had for his wife and kids couldn't be compared to anything.

Collins was a strong man, but the idea of being in a concentration camp was so awful that he didn't want to think about it.

And he didn't know that the war was barely beginning.

Both kids, but especially Edward, were happy to see his father's best friend there. The boy loved his godfather and for him it was always nice to see him there.

Collins lied to them, he had to.

"Your dad is coming in few days," Jack said while he was ruffling the boy's hair and had Clara in his arms. "I'm here just to say hello and to see how big you two are. He speaks about you the whole time!"

"How the battle went?" Edward asked.

"Everything ended well," he responded smiling to them. "Where's your mom?"

"In the kitchen! She's baking us a pie!" exclaimed the girl.

"She's the best, isn't she?" Edward looked at his godfather and Collins could see his friend's eyes in that boy. He nodded.

"She is, Ed."

Maggie has seen him already and she knew that all her anguish inside her the last few days had an explanation now. Collins entered the kitchen with his hat in his hands and avoiding her gaze. He asked the kids to wait outside so inside that warm place were just the two of them.

"Maggie, hi."

"Jack, it's good to see you. After all these years… I-" her voice was trembling but she managed to talk "I'm really happy to know that you're fine. I prayed for you, too."

"You're very kind, Maggie. I.. he asked me," Collins wasn't going to pretend that his friend didn't know why he was there and not her husband, so playing dumb wasn't in his plans. "William told me to come here and take care of you and the kids. To help you. Temporary. Maggie, he's not dead." Collins said, looking at the ginger woman who was crying silently in front of him. But apparently, his last words took her by surprise.

"What?"

"He's not dead."

Jack explained to her what happened after he was forced to water landing and was rescued. Her brown eyes looked at him like asking Jack the real events. But Collins wasn't lying.

"The convention protects Will. Him and thousands of soldiers and other prisoners of war. Because the Germans and Italians, want the same as us. The other side of the coin, of course, but they don't want their men being harmed because they need them. And we need ours."

"Will is alive then? Is it not a joke?"

"Of course it's not, Maggie."

The woman hugged him and sobbed against his shoulder. Being a prisoner of war was an awful destiny for everyone, but it was better than being dead in a distant land with no one near you to left you a flower. Or being under the sea, being one with the ocean for the eternity.

Collins didn't tell her about his own fears. Hitler was doing everything in his power to conquer the world and apparently he was succeeding. And if he had to shit on the Geneva convention, then Collins was sure that he will.

Hope.

William Farrier was cold despite the season of the year. He was afraid that his feet were already frostbitten, but it didn't seem the case, maybe just the sensation. He massaged them to activate the blood circulation again.

That was the second week there. With France invaded by the Nazis and already surrendered to Hitler, Great Britain was the only country that was facing Germany. For now, at least.

He was still in the France that weeks ago wasn't enemy territory but now it was. Around him, Farrier saw other soldiers all of them sharing a small space, sleeping in the ground or not sleeping at all.

Farrier never talked a lot and it wasn't the exception now. The conditions were they where were bad, but it could be worse. The news arriving from Germany were disgusting and incredibly cruel.

If something good the leaders of different countries did, was to sign that convention. Without that one, he could be dead by now. Especially considering the damage that Farrier alone caused to the enemy.

Yet, despite the cold and hunger he kept in mind that it wasn't bad. Although it was.

The convention stipulated that officers of his ranks weren't obligated to work for the Germans, but he was. And hundred of other men, too.

William still had Maggie's picture in his pocket and was probably he most valuable treasure along with the watch she gifted him. If anything, Farrier trusted Collins with his whole soul and knew he was helping his family but he missed them a lot.

"Who's she?"

A bearded man with a thick Scottish accent approached Farrier and asked when he saw him with Maggie's photo in his hands. William noticed a scar on his nose that reached almost his left ear.

"My wife."

"Very pretty."

"Yes, she is. And a good woman as well."

"Any little beans?"

"Two. Ed and Clara."

"Family can cause problems sometimes but is in this days that we miss 'em, innit? I'm Charles."

"William."

"I know," Charles said. "The pilot. Yer a fuckin' hero, mate. We saw ya, phew phew. And them fuckin' boom! Ya sent 'em to hell in thousand pieces."

Farrier smiled "I guess, yes."

"Ya don't deserve this shit."

"You either, Charles. No one deserves this."

The beach was a good place to be. Two weeks passed since Collins returned and even when he was in his house now, after Maggie promised him that they were going to be okay, the pilot called them almost every day to see if they needed something.

"They're negotiating," Collins said to her once. "They went to make an arrangement with the Nazis to free the prisoners of war."

And apparently it was true. But until now they had no news.

Her kids were playing at the seashore while she was sitting in the sand watching the waves. She could see herself in Edward and Clara. The innocence of believing Collins words. There was a time when she believed her mother's words and the promise of being a family again. It didn't last long, but while it last her words sounded well for her.

She remembered the first time in that pub when she saw him. Just eight years ago, and yet it seemed to be an eternity. If someone promised her that they have the power to change the past and never meeting him and in consequence, avoid this sadness in her heart now, she'd rejected the offer. Not even in those dark days she could accept that kind of thing. She loved William. He was the best thing she had and together they built a nice family. Those kids existed because they were together and loved each other and that was invaluable.

"Come home, Will."

She didn't realise she was crying again until she felt two pairs of arms hugging her. She hugged both children and the three of them remained in silence until the sun started to hide.

Those days, Farrier hurt himself and sent him to the temporary hospital that was built there. A nurse was bandaging his arm when he looked at her.

"May I ask you something, miss?"

"Mrs," she corrected him "Mrs. Thompson."

"Mrs. Thompson, I need to know what are the chances to send a letter to England now."

Mrs. Thompson saw him like he was asking her to kill Hitler herself. "Very low, Mr. Farrier."

"But not impossible."

The woman looked at him for a moment before closing the curtain around his stretcher giving them some privacy.

"What do you want?"

"Just send a letter to my wife. My kids."

"London?"

"Sussex."

The nurse low her voice and whispered to him "You're asking something almost impossible. They confiscated a lot of letters. This an occupied zone now. But it can be done anyway, illegally."

"How much?"

"You have nothing, soldier."

"I have this watch. It has to have some value. You can sell it, I need to communicate with them."

Farrier took off Maggie's gift the one he had with him from the beginning of the war and gave it to her and the nurse examined it. She nodded. "I will bring you a pen and paper. But be brief, the thinner the envelope is, the better."

Two days later the letter was going to England inside the box of medicine that a fisherman had. They allowed the old Frenchman go after checking he wasn't a menace.

Maggie received it five days later. It was the first sign that she had in a lot of time that he was still alive and she couldn't help but cry. It was brief as a poem, but clear. According to his words, it was true that he was hold as prisoner but was fine. Maggie asked herself if he was lying to make her feel better, but just the news were enough for her.

"I'm waiting for the moment to be with you again. I love you, my beautiful wife. Forever. Remember my promise, I'm coming home even if it takes me a bit while to do it. I love you, W.F."

Collins heard about the letter as well because Maggie called him almost immediately. The next weeks to add hopes to that letter, he knew that finally the negotiations were having some good effect.

July was almost beginning when finally Collins received the call he was waiting for, he almost jumped from his bed. And the news reached the media as well. Radio and newspapers were announcing it:

"… The immediate liberation of French and British men held as prisoners in France."

Paris was the price that France paid for it.

Epilogue

A dog with only three legs started to follow him as soon as he arrived there. Farrier looked around to see if that maybe his owner was near but it didn't seem to be the case.

He stopped for a moment to pet his head and the dog started to jump around him. Too precious to be a street dog, but Farrier was convinced he was.

An old woman approached him.

"Welcome back, sir. You're one of those soldiers that Churchill brought back, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"God bless, Winston. You're lucky, sir. Very lucky," then she looked at the animal who was now sat down next to his leg. "The dog likes you, it has no home. Just a fleabag. He's lways eating what he finds."

"I'm taking him with me, then."

"Good decision, sir. And thanks for your services."

Both Farrier and now his dog, walked the familiar streets. It seemed to be a lifetime since he was there. Some people stepped outside just to see him go. Some clapped, others cheered him. Kids asked him questions that he didn't want or know how to answer.

He asked himself if in every city and town it was the same towards the men returning home.

Home. Four letters that have a meaning that he could explain.

He didn't call his family, he wanted to surprise them.

He finally could see the white walls, the green grass, and his kids' toys outside the house. Ed's bike was next to the tree and the door was open. Farrier looked at his dog and nodded. The animal was the first one to approach the house.

"Mommy! Mommy! A dog!"

Clara saw him and petted him but it was Edward's voice who alterted the girl that someone else was just in the door.

"Dad! Dad!"

Edward ran towards the man and hugged him. Clara, took some seconds to recognise him, but when she did, she did the same as her older brother.

Maggie standing under the door frame with a plate in her hands, was crying not believing her eyes. There je was again, as he promised.

"The dog needs a name," he said to his kids once they let him go. "He's yours now."

"Really?!"

"Of course. He needs a bath and food, I'm sure you can do that."

"We can, dad!" Edward took his sister's hand and both of them ran outside followed by the happy dog that soon was going to be named Pi.

Finally the matrimony was alone.

"Just in time for the lunch," Maggie joked, but still crying.

"I'd never miss it, my love."

"Oh, Will…"

Maggie put the plate she had in her hands aside and touched his face. He had beard now and his hair was longer. But that was his caring husband, it was him.

William and Marguerite finally kissed eachother. His hands found her waist and he brought him closer to him. How much he missed her.

"I love you," he said touching his forehead with his.

"I love you, too, Will. You fulfilled your promise."

"I did it. And I'm not going anywhere now."

He kissed her again. And Maggie lost herself in his touch. Later that day, they were going to rejoin in ways that now in the kitchen and with their kids around they couldn't do.

Or with Collins watching.

His friend knew he was going home because his superiors alerted him, even if Farrier didn't say anything to his family, all the rest obviously knew he was back in England. So Jack drove there to finally see his friend again.

Men shouldn't show affection those days and yet, the moment he stepped in and both men saw each other again, they hugged for a long time.

"Thanks, Collins," William said.

"No need, Farrier." Then, Jack saw at Maggie was again hugging her husband and smiled.

Sometimes family is a matrimony, their two kids, the husband's best friend and a three legged dog.

The lunch there was shared with all of them together. Even Pi.

The afternoon, Collins stayed in the house with the kids giving the couple the opportunity to be alone in the beach.

Maggie spent almost a year and a half alone sitting on the sand contemplating the sea and now was doing the same only that this time, William was again with her.

He was kissing her neck. Their fingers interwined, resting on her stomach, while she was sat between his legs.

No one said anything. The sound of the waves accompanied their reunion. Silent as Farrier was, but was that kind of silence that if you listened carefully you could hear a lot.

The kind of silence that screamed "I love you."

#farrier #farrier dunkirk #farrier x oc #farrier x ofc #farrier imagine #farrier fanfic #dunkirk #dunkirk 2017 #tom hardy #farrier x maggie

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withlovewriting · 3 months

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All I Ever Knew, Only You 16: Silent Night

Chapter Sixteen.

Footsteps without a sound, I'm coming home to you, Snowfall blankets the ground, It covers the ugly truth, Things that we hide from view, I get tired around this time, But I will try to make things right, Bring your arms around me fast, Warm my bones and fill my glass, God, I hope this year's better than the last

Summary: Hawkins was your typical quaint, mid-western town where nothing ever happened. People were born here, lived their entire lives within the town limits, and eventually died here, peacefully in their sleep. But one cold November evening in 1983 would change everything.

Despite a child with psychokinetic abilities and ravenous monsters that lacked faces, stranger things had definitely happened in the small town in Indiana. One of them being your reluctant and slightly imposed friendship with Hawkins High’s own King Bee, Steve Harrington.

Characters: Steve Harrington x Non-descriptive F!Reader (eventual)

Words: 6,867

Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of past childhood trauma, underage drinking, wintertime fluff. I think that's it. Also barely proofread because I really just wanna get this chapter out so apologies in advance for any mistakes, feel free to let me know.

Series Warnings: Strong language, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of drug use, canon-typical violence, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of possible mental health disorders, child abuse, slow burn, kinda enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, I like to call it ‘two idiots who begrudgingly befriend each other only to realize… ‘wait a damn minute…’, eventual sexual content, canon-typical time-period bullshit. 18+. Minors DNI.

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Taglist: @kezibear

Chapter Sixteen: Silent Night

Winters in the Midwest could be dire. Freezing winds rattled your bones and burrowed deep inside them, leaving you to feel their effects for days on end, and cold, wet snow that you often believed you'd sink right through, ending up in the middle of the Earth.

Yet despite the frosty weather, Hawkins in the winter was often referred to as picturesque with all the charm of the Walton's Christmas movie. But you were yet to see it. To feel it.

After the accident that viciously stole your sister from your life, followed shortly by your father's sudden exit, your mother had never really bothered with the holidays again, and maybe a bare Christmas tree in the living room would've been a more painful reminder than no tree at all. Either way, you couldn't remember much about the holidays when your sister was alive, but you were more than aware that there was a version of your family before, and a version after.

But you did come close to feeling it, just one time.

When you were around 9, you had been invited to spend the day at the Holland's home, where Barbara's mother watched you both through the window as you made slightly crooked snow angels, a poor excuse of a snowman that even had a carrot for a nose and a hat and scarf lent to you by Mr. Holland, who was warming up some hot cocoa as his wife whizzed around the kitchen, warm chocolate chip cookies cooling on the side as she hummed along to her Andy William's Christmas record.

It had been a peaceful few hours, and you knew deep in your soul that this was what Christmas was supposed to be about. In the company of loved ones; singing and dancing, and enjoying the time off work and school. Freezing your bones off during a snowball fight, only to warm back up with hot drinks, and a warm bath before bed.

But it didn't last long. Despite the promise of a warm, filling meal, your mother had turned up, tugging at your arm and half dragging you back through the snow as Mrs. Holland rushed after you both with your coat in hand. Your mother would then drive back home, half-cut and full with a mixture of annoyance and nostalgia. You knew what it was now, of course, but back then, your brain couldn't begin to understand how awful a thing grief was, and what it could make people do, make them say.

Hopper had tried once, not long after he'd called an end to the relationship with your mother. But you had been sure that the man wanted nothing to do with you, despite his turning up with a poorly wrapped gift on Christmas Eve. You'd stared at him for just a moment before shutting the door in his face and leaving him to the wrath of your mother should he insist on knocking again, silently pleading that he would. That no matter how many times you slammed the door in his face, or glared at him across the wobbly kitchen table, he would fight for you.

But he didn't, and you couldn't blame him for that, just as you couldn't be blamed for your fierce loyalty toward your mother.

Eventually, however, you would always find yourself awaiting her inevitable drunken slumber, covering her with a blanket before sneaking out into the dark winter night.

The coffee in the police station tasted like dirt, but it was hot, on tap, and most importantly, free. So you'd make your way there, too worried to drive the car in case the engine managed to wake her, and like clockwork, Flo would hand you a bitter cup of coffee in a slightly chipped white mug and send you through to Hopper, who would already be boring you with some spiel about how it wasn't safe for you to be out walking in bad weather conditions.

You'd watch the snow fall from his office window as he huffed and puffed through the night, claiming he couldn't tell you about any of the 'cases' going on in town, due to their confidentiality. That barely lasted an hour, however, and soon the man would be offloading his annoyance about how Mr. Gillespie had threatened to sue Mr. Caulfield because he'd cut down some overhanging branches from his tree, the latter claiming he would have to rake his garden twice a week because of his neighbor's overgrown tree. Hopper grumbled that they would be lucky if he didn't chop the damn thing down himself.

He had moved to New York to get away from these damn small-town problems and make a difference in the world. Yet, here he was, filing paperwork about how Mrs. Gillespie — he was beginning to think their family was the bane of all his problems — wanted to sue the park for an owl that had mistaken her hair for a nest and began to attack her, which with the amount of hairspray she used, he couldn't blame the damn animal. You wondered if now Hopper missed the quiet, tedious days before Hell opened up and spat out a couple of monsters.

But the Christmas of 1984 was different.

Your mother's meal remained plated up — but by this point, stone cold — on the side and you figured if she awoke and suddenly developed some respect for herself and her taste buds, she could help herself to your still-boxed meal that you just didn't have the stomach for.

You'd returned to your bedroom, a headache gnawing at the edges of your scalp as you considered whether or not you'd be able to get away with turning down the volume of the TV as your mother slept, spread out on the lumpy couch — you did pay the electrical bill that month, after all — when a loud knock echoed through the house, causing you to leap up from your bed and rush to the front door before the perpetrator had the chance to do it again, most likely waking your mother.

Almost ripping the door off its hinges, your glare dwindled to nothing more than a cocked brow as you came face-to-face with Eleven. A thick, heavy jacket hung from her small body and you could tell from how new it looked that she had received it that morning as a gift from Hopper.

“El? What are you doing here?”

Her smile was sweet, full of childlike excitement, and you wondered if this was her first real Christmas with gifts, visitors, and carolers. Even after escaping the lab, her first Christmas in Hawkins was in hiding with Jim. Same bird, different cage. But now… She had been officially adopted by Hopper — forged adoption papers be damned — and was able to experience a real family Christmas for the first time. You couldn’t help but wonder if Hopper's gift-wrapping skills had improved, and how burned was the turkey?

El's eyes darted toward the parked vehicle out front, “Hopper and I came to collect you.”

“For what?” You questioned, dumbfounded.

“It's Christmas,” Eleven grinned, wide and winsome, as if you were a total idiot.

Your rehearsed excuse was already sitting on the edge of your tongue, and you were fully prepared to turn the girl down no matter how shiny her puppy-dog eyes were, but the words that came out of her mouth next shut you down quickly, “We're going to have a real Christmas dinner together. Hopper said that's what real families do.”

Gnawing at the inside of your cheek, you willed your eyes to not well up as a lump crawled its way up your throat, threatening to expose you for the sad, lonely, and unloved girl you really were. The same six-year-old girl who wept for her mother to wake up as she was starving on Christmas day. The same 9-year-old girl who had felt a glimpse of being wanted before her mother cruelly dragged her backward through the snow in her friend's front yard. The same 15-year-old who wandered through a town much more dangerous than she'd ever know, heading toward the yellow, dingy lights of the police station, toward the only person in her life who had shown her that she meant something to someone. To anyone.

Peering toward the man of the hour, you found Jim watching the scene before him with his window rolled down as he leaned out into the cold, winter air, “C'mon, Kid. Turkey ain't gonna baste itself.”

You didn't mean to slam the door in the poor girl's face, a small gasp falling from her lips that could be heard through the wooden door as you stared at it for a moment. Spinning around, you grabbed your jacket and hat from the wonky coat peg, haphazardly throwing it on before rushing toward your room, knees aching as the floorboards creaked under them as you blindly searched for the wrapped box you'd hidden under your bed a few weeks ago.

Returning to the hall, you took a few cautious steps inside the living room. Your mother remained steadfast in her drunken slumber, snoring almost drowning out the TV, and you took a moment to decide if you really could leave her, but a timid knock on the front door made your decision for you.

El's hand was raised high, but her attention was focused on a concerned-looking Hopper as you pulled the door back open. Moving past her frozen body and closing the door quietly behind you, you eventually settled on her, present under one arm as you held out your other hand to her, “The driveway gets a little slippery in the snow.”

You passed by the snow-covered trees slowly, Hopper's cautious driving surprising you for a moment as he hummed along to the radio. El had seemingly not taken a breath since the moment you'd entered the car, telling you all about her day so far, and how Hopper had bought her gifts but wouldn't let her open them until after he'd drank at least two cups of coffee. You hated to interrupt her, but you couldn't help slamming your hand on top of Hopper's seat, the man jumping as you pulled him from his bubble.

“Can we stop somewhere first? There's something I need to do.”

Hopper's tires barely kicked up any snow left on the long driveway, and you assumed it had already been shoveled for the party the family no doubt held the evening before.

The boy's room faced the pool at the back of the house, so you had no option but to knock on the large red door, trying to blink away the memories of the last time you'd done this, Barb and Nancy beside you, before everything had turned to shit. Well, shittier, you supposed.

You wondered how the Hollands were fairing this year, another year without their only daughter, who was now laid to rest in the cemetery in town. You'd have to visit them, you decided. No matter how awkward and uncomfortable it was for you, Barb's family had been there for you in times when no one else had.

For a moment, you wondered if anyone was even home. It was a large enough house that maybe they couldn't hear a simple knock from a few rooms away, but eventually, the door opened wide, another familiar memory of Steve Harrington appearing in the doorway, his eyes roaming over you with the same perplexity that it had just over a year ago. Only this time they softened much sooner, despite the confusion that still clouded them.

“Uh, hey.”

“Hi,” You swallowed, face pinching in embarrassment as you stood on the boy's doorstep awkwardly.

“Is everything okay?” His brow pinched, eyes roaming over you once more and only settling back into place when he realized you were uninjured, nodding like a damn bobbing-head doll in a car.

“Yeah, no. Everything's… It's fine. I just…” taking a deep breath, you couldn't fathom why your heart was beating so loudly in your ears. Maybe it was because of your audience, the piercing stare of both Hopper and Eleven making your face feel much too warm in the cold weather, or maybe it was the fear that Steve very well could reject your offer.

You were friends, you both knew that by this point. And friends hung out, as you often did. But Christmas was a time for family, as El had told you, and here you were, about to ask him to ditch his parents to hang out. It felt silly to be so worried about something so trivial, but you couldn't stop the pounding in your chest.

“I know you're probably busy, but, uh… I was just wondering if you had any plans tonight.”

Steve watched you for a moment as if waiting for the punch line of a joke that he would inevitably be the butt of, but as the silent seconds passed and you visibly became more self-conscious, he finally realized you were not joking.

“Oh, uh… I'm not doing anything, actually. My parents are still pretty hung over from their party last night, but… Yeah, I can do, you know… Whatever.”

A loud honk of the Chevvy caused you to startle, turning quickly to send a glare toward its owner, who continued to watch the scene in front of him, unbothered by the lack of privacy he was giving you both.

“You wanna join us at Hopper's? He's threatening everyone with food poisoning if we don't, so…”

Steve had already eaten, his parents serving Christmas dinner closer to lunchtime, but he couldn't find it in himself to refuse the invitation. Last year, he had spent his Christmas Eve at the Wheeler's residence and although he was coming to terms with the fact Nancy and Jonathan were now definitely an item, he couldn't quite shift the loneliness that he felt, a year later, laying on his bed and throwing an old baseball up toward the ceiling repeatedly in silence as his mother rested in her room, his father locking himself away in his office, claiming he had unfinished work that just couldn't wait one more day.

“I could eat,” Steve nodded, a small smile creeping onto his mouth as he watched yours do the same.

You felt as stuffed as the turkey that was sat atop the small dining table. It was a squeeze to fit you all around it, you pretty much had El sat on your lap for the majority of the meal, but as you collected the plates, you felt a warm, full sensation in your chest that you hadn't felt before, and couldn't blame on your second helping of mashed potato.

“Leave it, Kid. I'll do it before bed.”

Ignoring Hopper's protests, knowing that he damn well would not do the dishes before bed, you continued toward the small kitchen, pilling the plates on the small draining board as El joined you to scrape the leftovers into the trash can.

Hopper was already sprawled back against the armchair, legs wide and pants unbuttoned as he turned his attention to the TV in front of him, despite the volume being too low to hear much.

“Uh, thanks for letting me join tonight,” Steve cleared his throat, his back a little too straight to be at ease as he sat on the small couch.

“Wasn't my idea,” Hopper took a sip from his bottle of Coca-Cola before resting it back onto his jean-clad knee, “Kid wanted to stop by.”

Steve nodded, his eyes flitting toward where you stood scrubbing the stubborn gravy stain from the pot as El blew some remaining bubbles at you from a plate. Flicking some of the water in her direction, Hopper's attention turned toward you both when he heard the younger girl gasp lightly, her eyes wide as a smile stretched across her face.

“Hey, girls, don't start-”

Hopper's words were futile as El dipped her own hand into the sink before flicking the dirty water back at you, reveling in your hearty laugh that he wasn’t sure he’d ever really heard before.

“Not with your parents tonight?” Hopper questioned, his eyes finally settling on the boy who sat to his right.

“Uh, we hung out this morning. Dad had some work to finish up though…”

Hopper watched as the boy ran his hand through his hair, his eyes on the TV, but he could tell Steve wasn't really paying attention to the movie. He hadn't had much of an opinion on the Harrington boy before, originally passing him off as another old money, trust fund kid who rebelled against his parents until he'd eventually end up with a life just like his father's.

The irony wasn't lost on Jim as his own father — the old Chief of Police — flashed in front of his eyes, brows stern before letting out a dejected sigh so loud he was sure the whole town could hear it.

“Well, she's glad you could make it.”

“Yeah, me too…” Steve nodded, an awkward, tight-lipped smile sent the Chief's way before his eyes slowly trailed back towards where you stood next to the younger girl.

“So, since someone didn't have any ingredients to make a pie,” you began, a side eye sent Hopper's way, “El came up with the brilliant idea to make our own dessert.”

“Eggos?” Hopper sighed, rubbing his stomach. Only moments ago he was certain his stomach would burst at the mention of food, but now… Well, a sweet treat didn't sound so bad.

“Eggos,” El confirmed, perching on the sofa and taking a large bite from her first waffle.

Bringing a plate over to Hopper, he took it with a grateful smile as you returned to the small kitchen. Steve mustered the energy to push himself up, joining you only a few feet away from his previous seat, “I'll, uh… I'll help.”

“You're the guest,” you began, “and I think I can toast a couple of Eggos without burning the place down.”

Steve huffed, an amused smirk pulling at his mouth as he cocked a brow and all but snatched the box from your hands, “Just accept the help, for my sake. I think if Hopper glares at me any harder I'll be the one being set on fire.”

Leaning against the small counter, you watched as he went about heating the waffles before eventually plating them up. Standing side by side, you chewed in silence, eyes darting from the small TV to Steve every so often.

“I'm sorry for dragging you out on Christmas day just to sit and eat Eggos in a cabin in the middle of the woods, but I'm glad you're here.”

Steve stopped mid-chew, quickly swallowing the bite of waffle he'd only just shoved into his mouth, “No, no, it's uh… It's been nice, you know? I was only gonna watch some lame movie on my own anyway.”

The moment of silence that passed between you was briefly interrupted as childlike giggles from El filled the room, watching as Uncle Scrooge McDuck made amends with the Cratchit family. Your eyes softened slightly as you watched the young girl who could barely peel her eyes away from the TV set.

“Are you, uh, going to Lewensky's New Year's party?” Steve asked, his head tilting toward you slightly as he lowered his voice, all too aware of Hopper's not-too-distant presence.

The scoff fell from your lips before you'd even realized, “I'm sure my invite got lost in the mail. Plus, after last Halloween… high school parties really are not my forte.”

Steve's eyes dropped to his feet at the mention of Tina's last party, the memory of Nancy's drunken, harsh words was still a wound that was slowly scabbing over, “Yeah, yeah I get that.”

Taking a deep breath, you placed your plate into the sink and focused back on the boy who had since last year, had his life completely turned around. He'd lost more than you'd originally presumed, but because Steve had money, you had felt that no matter how bad Steve's life got, he would never have to steal for food, bundle up in every warm outfit he had just because he couldn't afford to warm the house or pick up extra jobs to keep a roof over his head. He would always have a sense of security that couldn’t be taken from him.

But Steve had lost parts of himself along the way. Some good, some bad. But looking at the sinewy boy standing next to you, you knew it was for the best. From his asshole friends who kicked him down as soon as he slipped from the top rung of the school hierarchy ladder to Nancy, the girl who had somehow stopped his straying eye and made him believe in love, despite breaking his heart along the way because she fell in love with a boy who wasn't him.

But now, Steve had gained friendships that didn't depend on what he could do for them, or how popular he was. They were no longer transactional and instead relied on how much they cared about him, and how far they were willing to go to keep each other safe. And even if you assumed it would feel like a consolation prize to the boy, Steve now had you and your unwavering loyalty, even if your friendship had originally felt like a slow-building, forced-together situation. He had saved your life multiple times now, and eventually, one day, you would both come to the realization that you had both in fact, saved each other.

“You never told me what happened at that party. Why everything seemed to go to shit after it.”

Steve's plate joined yours in the sink, and he was grateful that he'd already finished his waffles, as his stomach sank and he lost any type of appetite he'd had left, “I should, uh… I should probably get going.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you couldn't help but feel like an asshole. It had been less than two months since whatever went down with him and Nancy at Tina's party, and here you were, pick, pick, picking at his wounds because of your own curiosity. Nosiness. Inability to just let things lie. You sent the boy a strained smile which he returned before pushing himself away from the counter and toward the small living room,

“Uh, we're gonna head out. Thanks for dinner though, Chief. I had a great evening.”

Hopper's brow raised as he turned his attention toward you, then back to the boy, “It's late, I should drive you home.”

Before you left, you handed El the small gift-wrapped present, watching as her eyes lit up like the Christmas tree in downtown Hawkins. With a quick nod of reassurance from you, she began to tear off the paper, a large smile covering her face when she pulled out the cassette tapes from the old, wrapped shoe box, eyes scanning over the black and white picture of Bryan Adams. Only a handful were new, most being your old tapes, mixed tapes you'd made or been gifted by Jonathan throughout the years, hours worth of music she could discover,

“Now you don't have to listen to the old man's music.”

“Hey,” Hopper warned, despite his voice holding no real offense, “Nothing wrong with a bit of Jim Croce.”

“I'm not saying there is, unless, you know… you're a thirteen-year-old girl.”

“Right, that's enough out of you. Go get my keys.”

Once school had broken up, December always seemed to move slowly. The days blended together, and if not for work, you wouldn’t know what day it was. The arcade opened back up on the 27th and your manager was all too aware that with the children off for the holidays, at some point, the parents would get sick of them and send them out for the day, and most of them would make their way to the warm arcade. You’d managed to pick up an extra shift or two, thankful to be working with Keith and not Andy, the latter all but begging you to pick up his New Year's Eve shift. So you’d made your way to work, finishing just after 10. Keith could be an absolute pain in your ass when he wanted to be, but you couldn’t deny that he did a better job closing the arcade than Andy did, and actually did his fair share of cleaning, meaning you were able to get home quicker, especially with the boy dropping you off as the snow had started to fall once more.

Now you’d been back home for a while, you’d settled on your bed intending to read before bed, yet here you were sat staring out of your bedroom window, a book opened, but otherwise untouched as it remained perched on your lap. The snow finally settled, peaceful and undisturbed and you wished you could drown out the noise of your mother’s television show, — Happy New Year, America — the volume turned up so loud that it managed to drown out her incessant snores. You wondered if it was something she did in an attempt to drown out whatever turmoil she’d dream about, but with the amount she drank, did she even dream anymore? Or was her mind as dark and lonely at night as it was in the day?

The red lights from your alarm clock flickered, 11.32pm, and soon the town of Hawkins would ring in the New Year, the rest of America following behind shortly. People make resolutions to work harder, eat healthier, attend more aerobic classes, and only cheat on their wives with their secretaries on Tuesdays and Thursdays evenings. Promises to themselves that would be broken by the first week of February.

All you wanted was a quiet year. You didn’t need a pity party, but your life up to this point, had been difficult, to say the least. Since 1977 your resolutions have mirrored wishes. Hopes and dreams for the next year, akin to what you might’ve wished for when blowing out your birthday candles if you’d ever had a cake. A peaceful 1985, with no interdimensional monsters lurking around the corner, or curly-haired mullet-wearing Californian boys who wanted nothing but trouble. Or whatever the hell had possessed Will.

Blinking a few times, you tried to focus on the book and lifted it from your lap as if that would help, but the words were simply blurring into one big, inky mess on the page. Closing your eyes tightly, you pushed your face into the open pages of the book and let out an exasperated groan. Of course, you could’ve just gone to bed, woke up on January 1st, and continued your life as usual, but something forced you to remain awake. You needed to see this year through, right until the end, even if just to prove to yourself that you had survived it.

You couldn’t wait to see the back of 1984 and hoped the door did, in fact, hit its ass on the way out.

Releasing a long sigh, a cold shiver ran over your skin, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps, and the unnerving feeling that you were being watched caused a thick, tense air to settle around you, leaving you almost too scared to remove the book from your face, frightened to catch a glimpse of whatever was waiting out there waiting, observing you.

At best, it would be a peeping tom, but at worst? Well, wouldn’t it just be your luck to enter the new year with the same monsters you were hoping to permanently leave behind, chasing you into 1985? If there was no rest for the wicked, you’d hate to think of what you did in a previous life, something so heinous that karma had crossed over into this one, haunting you still.

A sharp knock against the glass forced your body into movement, the book flying from your hands and into the direction of said sound as if the old, worn copy of ‘A Room of One’s Own’ that you had yet to return to the library would suffice against any kind of intruder.

But before the book could clatter to the floor, dislodging some of the pages that were already clinging on for dear life, your eyes met those honey-colored familiar ones, the boy jumping at the collision of the book, only inches from his face despite being protected by the glass that separated them.

Releasing an annoyed huff of breath from your mouth, you pushed yourself from your bed and all but stomped toward the window, cringing as it scraped and squeaked against the windowsill.

Swallowing down your embarrassment and finally feeling your heart slow down, you sent a glare to the boy, one he happily returned.

“What the hell are you doing here, Harrington?”

Scoffing, the boy’s frown deepened, “You’ve got a hell of an arm, you know that?”

“Oh please, the window was closed. I probably did more damage to my book than I would’ve to your face.”

The crease between his eyebrows smoothed out as he took you in. He’d asked Nancy about the flashlight incident of 1983 after overhearing part of your conversation whilst you comforted his ex-girlfriend in the Holland’s bathroom, being told all about your ability to throw inanimate objects into the face of your enemies. Turns out, it was a habit — or rather, a reflex — you’d be taking into the new year with you.

“What are you doing here?”

Rolling his eyes, Steve placed an arm through the window frame, trying in vain to move you aside, “I was at Mark Lewensky’s party, and it totally sucked. Can I come in? It’s freezing-”

“My mom’s home,” you told him simply, as if she wasn’t out cold, sprawled across the couch. But your mother had been very clear about boys being in her home without her knowledge. It was just a shame she didn’t care as much regarding the men she brought home.

With a cocked brow, Steve watched you for a moment before bending over to grab something on the snow under your window, eventually holding up the bottle of cheap alcohol he’d swiped from the party before taking his leave, “I brought a gift."

You considered the boy for a moment, eyes glancing toward your alarm clock, still sitting pretty on your nightstand, the red numbers almost taunting you in a way you couldn’t describe.

11.46

If you really wanted to, you could easily send the boy off, tell him to go home, or even just go sit in his car and drive around town, and he’d do it. You could crawl into bed, pull the covers up over your head, and pretend that this whole year didn’t happen. Or, you could ring in the new year with some shitty vodka warming your belly, and a friend by your side. A friend who looked just as finished with 1984 as you were.

“Just… give me a second, alright?”

Furtively, you grabbed your denim jacket, hat, and blanket from your bed before shoving on a pair of sneakers and clambering out of your window, causing Steve to fumble backward to avoid getting headbutted. Recovering quickly, Steve helped you down onto the soft snow, now sullied with the prints from his shoes.

“C’mon,” you mumbled, closing your window a little more in an attempt to keep your bedroom at least mildly warm before grabbing the sleeve of his jacket and wandering toward the back of your house where the slightly splintered trellis sat against a wall, reaching up far enough that you were able to climb onto the slight slope of your roof.

Steve, however, looked much less certain, worry evident in his quizzical eyes as they moved from you, to the trellis, and back to you,

“It’s fine, Steve. I’ve been climbing this thing since I can remember.”

Grumbling under his breath, Steve not-so-nimbly started his own ascent, arm high in the air for you to grab the bottle until he eventually settled in next to you on the blanket. It wouldn’t stop the cold snow that you’d half-scraped off the roof eventually leaking through, but it was at least a little more comfortable.

After opening the bottle and taking a long sip, Steve handed it toward you, watching as you gulped down a mouthful of the drink, face screwing up just as his own did moments ago.

“So, why’d the party suck?”

Steve accepted the bottle when you held it out to him, taking another large gulp, “It’s just not my scene anymore, you know?”

“Wow,” you huffed out a fake laugh, “never thought the day would come when the Keg King of Hawkins doesn’t want to party.”

Steve rested the bottle in his lap, fingers picking at the peeling label, “Yeah, well, you’re the one spending New Year’s alone with your face in a book. Literally.”

“And somehow, I was still having a better time than you were.” You shrugged, sending the boy an impish smile.

You both remained quiet for a moment, but you could feel the awkward tension that had settled over you back at Hopper’s before you’d left. You and your big mouth had ruined a good evening, and you couldn’t help the heavy feeling of guilt that had settled on your chest since.

“I’m sorry about Christmas, you know? Bringing up the whole Nancy thing. It’s not my business and I shouldn’t pry. And I’m sorry for bringing it up now, too. I just… I felt bad.”

Steve sighed and took another sip of the drink before handing it back to you, his eyes remaining focused on you as he took a deep breath, all too aware that you were looking anywhere but at him now. He hadn’t been avoiding you since the awkward end to Hopper’s Christmas meal. You’d been busy with work and he… Well, he had been sulking in his room alone for the most part. But he’d come to the realization at the New Year’s party that he really didn’t have that many friends, even back when he was swanning around the school like he owned the place.

And maybe, being open and honest to someone would help him move past the shit he’d dealt with this year. Maybe it could help… Maybe you could help.

“Nancy was uh… She was really suffering after losing Barb. And I knew that a part of her blamed us for what happened. Whilst she was being dragged off to… whatever that place is, we were, well, you know…”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, not bothered that he was slightly messing it up, “I just didn’t realize how much she blamed us. Blamed me. She uh, she said everything was bullshit. That our relationship was bullshit. And when I asked if she loved me…”

“She was drunk, Steve. She didn’t know what she was saying-”

“No, I uh… I asked her at school the next day. She was pissed because I didn’t pick her up that morning, and I asked her. I begged her to tell me she loved me. And she couldn’t, because she didn’t. She didn’t love me, and I don’t know if she always knew that, or just realized it then. And then I… Jesus, I went around there like a total jackass, with roses and I was gonna apologize, you know? Because, she can’t help it if she doesn’t feel that way, and I shouldn’t push her into saying it, but… She’d disappeared with Jonathan. And I don’t know what happened between them, but… I mean, they started dating right after, so, I kind of guessed then that we were over, for good this time.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

Steve huffed a small laugh, but there was no humor to it, “You got nothing to apologize for.”

“I know, but… I was an asshole to you. And even after all that… You still made sure I was okay that night. Still protected us all at the Junkyard. I just… I didn’t know you were dealing with that.”

“Well, some things are a bit more important than my shitty love life, I guess. Being torn apart by a bunch of Demo Dogs being one of them.”

You placed the bottle back in his lap, placing a hand over his once he took it, “I can’t begrudge Nance for finding happiness with Jonathan, you know? It was kind of obvious from the outside that there was something between them. But you didn’t deserve that, Steve, and I’m sure Nancy knows that, too. She deserves to be happy, but so do you. And hell, it’s not like you’ll have any trouble finding someone else to warm your bed until then. You’ll be just fine, Harrington. I’m sure of it.”

“That night… With Billy-”

Shaking your head, you stopped him before he could finish his sentence, “We don’t need to go there, really. I’d prefer it if we put it down to being drunk and stupid, or lonely and desperate… whatever. It didn’t mean anything, and I knew the kind of guy he was, I really shouldn’t have been surprised.”

“He was an asshole, and I’m sorry about the rumors about us, well... you know.”

Finally, you met his dark, honey-colored eyes, “That’s not on you to apologize for. But I am sorry if that didn’t help shit with Nancy. And for what I said to you after… About, not wanting to hang out or be your friend. You looked out for me when I really needed it, and I threw that back in your face. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s cool,” Steve smiled, the warmth of your hand still lingering on his skin even after you pulled your hand back, “I mean, there is a way you could make it up to me.”

Your brows drew together almost comically fast, dropping slightly as you sent him a suspicious glare, but when you remained quiet, Steve took it as his chance to continue,

“You could help me study for my exams. I mean, I’m not expecting to do well, or anything, but… I still wanna graduate.”

“You know I usually charge for tutoring-”

“Yeah, that’s not how apologizing works though, is it?” Steve smirked, a playfulness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in a while.

A silence passed between the both of you as you took turns passing the bottle around, small sighs and scrunched-up faces as the drink burned your throats on its way down.

“Do you think this year's gonna be better? I mean, as in no more monsters crawling out of the Hell’s asshole that is Hawkins?”

Steve’s eyes returned to you — despite keeping yours front and center — and you could feel their laser-like focus roam over your side profile as if he would find an answer that would pacify the both of you etched on your skin.

“I think,” Steve seemed to choose his words wisely, “we’ve all been through enough shit to last us a lifetime. We’re owed at least one good year, right?”

A small bubble of laughter erupted from your chest as you finally turned toward the boy, “I think that’d be the bare fucking minimum, Steve. And those kids, you know? They deserve to just be… kids. Instead, they’re fighting against interdimensional monsters and god knows what else El and Will have been through.”

“Maybe this town’s cursed, you know?” Steve shrugged, taking another sip from the bottle.

“Do you think you’ll ever leave?” You questioned, specifying once Steve raised his brow, “Hawkins, I mean. Do you think you’ll ever get out of here?”

“Well, I don’t think I’m gonna get into any out-of-state colleges.”

“No, I mean like… forever. Do you ever just want to pack up a bag and let this shitty town swallow itself whole?”

Steve’s eyes softened as you peeked back at him, fingers fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket, “I guess. I don’t really have anything keeping me here. But… I don’t know. It pains me to say it but... I think I’d miss the little jerks too much. God knows Dustin wouldn’t survive five minutes unsupervised- Oh, hey, look-”

A fountain of light filled the sky, quickly followed by a loud crack as the fireworks spread across the sky, followed by another explosion of color.

You watched the lights as they forced colors into the night, breaking apart the dark sky before fizzling out and falling back down to Earth.

Steve called your name softly, watching as you turned your attention toward him, “Happy New Year."

“Happy New Year, Steve.” You replied, taking the bottle from his grasp with a small smile before returning your attention back to the sky, hoping the cheap vodka would wash down the nauseating panic that crawled up your throat as the sky split open once more, bright reds against the dark navy sky, looking as though it was ripped apart at the seams, and you half expected a monster to fall out of it.

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut

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silverhallow · 7 months

Text

Every Breath You Take

Violet Bridgerton II x Edward Becker (OC) Love Story

Chapter 1: Wonderstruck

Summer 1838

Edward had been to My Cottage before, he stopped regularly on his way to Eton to collect William Bridgerton but it was the summer of 1838 that would forever stick in his mind.

He was 16 years old and was becoming more aware of what was to become him in a few short years. He was the only son of the Duke of Somerset and he was 10 years younger than his older sisters and he had been unexpected but to his father, a welcome relief but now at 16, his father was actually taking an interest in him and preparing him for inheriting the Dukedom.

He’d spent a lot of time alone or with his cousin, the future Earl of Devon, Thomas Shuffield before he reached Eton where within days he’d become best friends with William Bridgerton.

William had everything that Edward had wanted in his family and often found himself jealous of the stories that William would tell him about his escapades with his cousins and siblings during their breaks from school and whilst he had heard a lot about William’s younger sister, he had never met her.

Over the last few years when he had stopped at My Cottage, Violet Bridgerton had often not been at My Cottage, having been either at Romney Hall or visiting her aunt and uncle at the parsonage but that fateful day, she had been home.

Edward had meant to spend the night at My Cottage as was custom before he would set off with William to collect Thomas on their return to the school but the weather had been bad and it had meant that he had to sleep on the road and arrived just after when the Bridgerton’s would break their fast.

He had sent a man ahead on horseback to let William and his parents know and he knew Mrs Bridgerton would worry about him if he was not there by the evening, when he arrived Mrs Bridgerton welcomed him at the doorstep and gave him a motherly hug and explained she’d prepared a bath for him if he wished to freshen up and eat before they departed.

He thanked her profusely, feeling awful from sleeping in the carriage and desperately hungry, so he made his way through the comfortable country home towards the guest room he would usually reside in and as he made his way onto the landing, thinking longingly of the hot water and Mrs Bridgerton’s cooks biscuits, there was a commotion and he heard the bark of the Bridgerton family dog Arthur and as a door opened he heard a girls voice “No Artie! Give that back!” and then the dog appeared with a rag in his mouth as he made a bid for freedom down the hall.

Edward chuckled and carried on walking only to find himself being crashed into not even two seconds later and he felt a cold wetness spill across his chest and as he looked down he saw a blur of blonde hair and the greenest eyes he had ever seen.

“Ooops! I am so sorry!!!” said the girl and all Edward could do was just stare, blinking like an idiot as his brain seemed to stall as he took in the girl.

“Vivi! Artie’s down the hall with your painting rag, if he gets in Dad’s stuff he’ll… well he’ll not murder you but he won’t be happy” came Will’s voice as he appeared around the corner “Lord, what happened to you Ed? Vivi you need to watch where you’re going”

“Right, yes sorry… I’ll go get Artie, sorry again” Vivi said to Edward before running off around the corner before his brain could mutter any words.

“It’s not a problem” he said half-stupidly as he looked at the space and just blinked.

Will just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder “sorry about Violet, she doesn’t look here she is going sometimes, especially when Artie is involved. Come here, I think i’ve got a spare waistcoat. Mrs C will get that cleaned up and send it down to us at school…”

Whatever else happened that afternoon Edward had no idea, it was all a blur as he swapped his waistcoat and put on one of his best friends, but he didn’t see Violet again as he was in the carriage within an hour but he was certain of one thing as he climbed into the carriage…

He was almost 99% sure he had just met the woman he wanted to marry…

#bridgerton #Benophie babies #Benophie next gen #Violet bridgerton ii #bridgerton next generation #ash writes

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valleyfthdolls · 11 months

Text

Movie!Cassidy is an Afton - an entirely speculative theory

(CW FOR DISCUSSION OF CANON TYPICAL HARM AGAINST CHILDREN)

A starting note

I do believe our little boy in Golden Freddy is named Cassidy, because Cassidy in the game universe is not confirmed female. Again I remind you all that Scott does not confirm fuck about these games. Fans have a tendency to claim their headcanons or whatever new fanon theories get popular have been confirmed to be canon. This is basically never true. Look at the semi-recent "Gregory is Scott's favorite" ordeal for an idea of how this information is shared in good faith and gets twisted nonetheless. Look at the comments under a fnaf au gacha life video for an idea of how people just straight up lie about that.

Cassidy in the games refers to himself as "he" and "him", we never see his physical appearance enough to make any judgment calls on his gender- any idea of his appearance is totally speculative, just like this theory- and most importantly, Cassidy is not exclusively a girls' name- it's actually a unisex name that started as a masculine one! It derives from the Irish surname Caiside, then became a masculine forename, then as it became anglicized as Cassidy it became unisex. In both modern day and the 80s, it is and was applicable as a boys' name.

Now, with that in mind, on to actual discussion of the Afton theory, and why I think movie Cassidy is one.

They look strikingly similar

Compare, for a moment, the appearances of Vanessa, William, and Cassidy. I'm using pictures of their actors because the pictures of them I could find online SUCKED.

William: Light skin, straight(?) brown hair, blue eyes. Vanessa: Light skin, straight blonde hair (though it's wavy in this picture, it's definitely straight for Vanessa), blue/maybe green eyes. Cassidy: Light skin, straight blonde hair, blue eyes.

The movie does suggest that Vanessa colors her hair blonde from brown (see: the brown roots), however, when she shows the photo of her childhood self and her father off to Mike, young Vanessa clearly has blonde hair as well.

And notably, her roots are just as blonde, suggesting that blonde was her natural hair color, but that it darkened as she got older, only for her to begin bleaching it back to its original color.

Now, blonde hair and blue/green eyes are both quite rare, but not rare enough that it's a dead ringer for a genetic connection. Hell, the Chica girl has blonde hair and blue eyes. However, Susie in the games has blonde hair and blue eyes, and Cassidy in the games very clearly has brown, and likely dark hair as well.

This makes the change to blonde with blue eyes very noticeable, and very noteworthy. And it’s a set of traits that he shares with Vanessa, as well as the notable blue eyes with William, as well as appearing to have a similar face shape.

Cassidy is inexplicably special

Cassidy is the first person who shares the image of Afton as Spring Bonnie with Mike when asked about who took Garrett. He seems more aware than anyone else of William, Garrett, William’s crimes, and what they’re doing.

When Mike asks who took Garrett, Cassidy responds by drawing a rabbit in the dirt- Spring Bonnie. (I will come back to this momentarily.) While the other kids believe Spring Bonnie is their friend, Cassidy seems to know the truth. He knows Garrett is dead, and offers Mike the chance to essentially see his ghost in exchange for Abby.

Furthermore, Cassidy doesn’t ever attack Abby, he doesn’t respond when William tells the children to wake up and go after her, and most interestingly-

Look at this image.

When Abby shows the missing kids what happened to them (in a scene I actually loved, btw, and I will take absolutely no criticism), you can see Jeremy in blue, Gabriel in the top hat, Fritz with the hook hand, Susie with long blonde hair, and… what I believe might actually be Garrett with dark hair and a red shirt. Because one thing is clear- that is not Cassidy.

Cassidy is not being controlled. He is fully aware, and he is angry. Hell, if you listen to his tone when he says “we want Abby,” it’s angry. Forceful. “We. Want. Abby.”

Again, Cassidy knows what is happening. He is angry and vengeful, and he’s the only one. So… why?

Well, honestly, this was my big qualm with the movie. Why was Cassidy special? In my eyes, there are four answers to this. He has a direct connection to William, a direct connection to Fazbear, a direct connection to every missing child that is unique to him, or he was the first or last of the missing kids. These would all set him apart. But we have no reason to believe he has a connection to FE, he was the fourth of the five missing kids as seen in the opening, and it seemed like the five of them were a group of friends. So what makes him special? He obviously knows or has something that sets him apart.

The imagery

Let me rewind now to when Mike first gets his answer about who took Garrett. He finds Cassidy in the woods and asks him for help remembering Garrett’s kidnapper. Cassidy responds by showing Mike a drawing of Spring Bonnie. Again, he knows that Spring Bonnie is evil, but more importantly here, he knows that Spring Bonnie took Garrett. Now, there are three ways he could know. One, process of elimination- the rabbit took him, so it took Garrett too. Two, assuming a relation to Afton, he saw or knew when this happened. Three, it was a matter of association.

Well, I actually doubt it was either of the first two. (You will see why this is not self contradictory in a second.) One, if it was because Spring Bonnie took Cassidy, well, Mike asked about Garrett, not Cassidy. For someone as obviously aware as Cassidy is, this is an obvious logical gap I doubt he’d make.

Two, Vanessa- Afton’s known daughter- didn’t know what happened to Garrett. When Mike asked- "asked"- if she knew, she said "not about Garrett." And while we don't have a clear timeline here (thanks Vanessa for your very ambiguous "in the 80s, kids went missing", we. we know), this was likely Afton's first kill. Meaning Cassidy was even younger then than he was when he died.

So, what do I mean by "it was a matter of association"? And how is this not self contradictory?

Well, assuming Cassidy didn't just. know Afton did it, what might have happened instead actually works even better with the idea that he knew Afton.

Compare the imagery here to that of the photo Vanessa shows Mike.

Spring Bonnie and the toy plane. If he saw Spring Bonnie and Vanessa with Garrett’s toy, seeing Garrett with that toy, he could assume that Spring Bonnie got it from him. Therefore, Garrett was taken by Spring Bonnie- Vanessa and Cassidy’s dad in the costume.

Their relationship

This one I’ll keep short. We only see Cassidy and William interact once. And it’s a very bizarre scene.

William is struggling, clinging to life, and Cassidy is standing, watching. Someone else said he was crying here, but I didn’t see it. Maybe, maybe not. I’m leaving that there. Either way, William reaches out to Cassidy, seemingly for help, and Cassidy shuts the door on him.

Watching the movie back and realizing Cassidy was never under William’s influence, this scene is… confusing, to say the least. Why would William reach for the help of the one child who was never under his thumb? What is he trying to appeal to? And why does Cassidy get the moment of being the one to shut the door on him?

Well, it’s obvious to see through Vanessa and the four missing children under his control that he is very clearly abusive to his children. Which isn’t a surprise to most, but anyway. Through the few minutes he and Vanessa are together, he berates her, strangles her, stabs her in the stomach and leaves her for dead, and Mike remarks that William “really messed [her] up”. He similarly berates and insults the missing kids, calling them pathetic and small. At the same time, however, he relies on his children to back him up. Vanessa is supposed to keep Mike from knowing anything and kill him if he gets too close. The animatronics are supposed to kill children and adults alike on his command. He leans on them. They are supposed to back him up.

And this would extend even to the one who he never controlled entirely if Cassidy was his son. His daughter let him down. His victims turned on him. But he still has one child left who hasn’t let him down. One who wasn’t there for him, but should be. Because that is the job of William’s children.

He reaches for Cassidy, the boy shuts the door on his murderer. The man who abused, betrayed, and slaughtered him all while he was meant to be his dad. William’s son is not going to clean up his messes now. He’s going to make him pay for them.

(ENDING DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS ALL SPECULATION! I know there are many other explanations. This is just the one I like and I wanted to share it!)

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #fnaf cassidy #cassidy afton #william afton #fnaf spoilers #fnaf theory #fnaf movie theory #fnaf movie thoughts #maybe one day I’ll make a post like this #about why I think game cassidy is an Afton (SPECIFICALLY THE CRYING CHILD BUT THATS ANOTHER TOPIC FOR ANOTHER DAYSKFJDJFH)

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cyjanometan · 5 months

Text

and through blood we shall be cleansed: waiting upon eternal judgement

After witnessing the attempted killing of Abigail Hobbs, a young priest seeks out the help of a renowned psychiatrist to whom he was referred: Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

The young priest sat restlessly in the waiting room, petrified and somewhat considering running away before the door to the psychiatrist's office could open. One might consider it irrational behaviour - objectively the worst was already behind him, considering what he has experienced.

The story of a priest who not only witnessed an attempted killing, but also has taken a life on the crime scene, quickly gained traction with the media. And thus, William Graham was summoned before the archbishop, and then later sent to the Vatican. The pope has released an official statement regarding the event, as has the police, and Will, after many hours spent being interrogated, was finally left to his own devices. Mostly - he could return to his duties as a priest, but he was obliged to seek out psychiatric help from doctor Lecter.

And thus, despite having already survived more awful things than a therapy session, there he sat, terrified, waiting seemingly for eternity, about to face his own personal form of the final judgement.

He was never one of the people who could easily open up. It proved even more difficult for him when faced with the possibility of getting a diagnosis based on the information he could reveal to the doctor. At least, that's how William explained the paralysing fear to himself. He would not dare ruminate on the actual reason: the feelings that have been slowly growing within him for the past few weeks. He begged for forgiveness, spoke of his overwhelming guilt regarding the killing, and yet... He would prefer not to think of the eerie feeling that accompanied him in those moments. But unfortunately for him, analysing feelings was what therapy was all about. He thought once more about leaving, about how he could blame it on the flu or some other thing, but before his plan could spring into action, the "click" of the lock could be heard and the door was opened.

Graham stood up, unconsciously straightening the collar on his neck, and looked at the man before him. The doctor had an obviously fine-made and expensive suit on. His figure was lean, his face and hair were well-groomed, and he wore a pleasant expression on his handsome face.

After a polite greeting, Will was invited into the office. It was quite a big room, tidy and elegantly decorated. Sweaty, dishevelled Will felt he must have looked awfully miserable in comparison.

"My name is Hannibal Lecter" the doctor introduced himself. "Please, take a seat."

As he sat in the chair the doctor presented him, Will threw a gaze on the man's face. He averted his gaze quickly though, blinking, trying to shake off the association between the psychiatrist and the final judge that sprung out in his head involuntarily upon seeing his piercing eyes.

"Before we begin, how shall I address you? Father Graham?"

The use of his title made Will shudder. Despite having been ordained almost a year ago, he still couldn't get used to being called "father". It possessed authority he felt couldn't be found in him.

"Just mister Graham is fine" he responded plainly. "Thank you, doctor."

The psychiatrist simply nodded.

Will tried to focus on whatever had been coming out of doctor Lecter's mouth, tried to stop himself from squirming under the analytic gaze of the opposing man. He felt as though he was back again in the confessional. Will preferred to be the one wearing the stole - giving absolution was always easier than receiving it. It came with less dubiety regarding the sinner's ability to obtain it.

Will answered the psychiatrist's questions somewhat avoidantly, looking at the clock every seven minutes, praying to all that is holy for the time to pass quicker.

During the next session, the process began again. Will sat in the slightly-too-soft chair, self-consciously thinking about the pristine office and how much dirt he must be bringing in. He felt the the opposing man's piercing gaze. All his instincts were screaming at him to sink into the floor, and yet, to his surprise, he couldn't stop himself from looking back at Hannibal. He saw a slight twinkling in the older man's eyes for a moment, and then the questions begun again.

Will questioned whether every patient of mister Lecter felt as tought the doctor was trying to penetrate through the layers of their skin. Doctor Lecter sat most elegantly, calmly speaking, as charming and peaceful as a man can get. Despite that, Will looked at him and saw him wanting to open his cranium up and pull his brain out. Would it be truly that interesting to examine? He never spared another moment to the thoughts which Hannibal was desperate to get him to confess. They were sinful, unbecoming of a priest. He devoted his life to God. He was a man of God and it was his duty to uphold the Christian values, the ones of which he spoke during his communions.

Purity, serenity, patience. Bearing the duty of leadership, he stood before the congregation trying to embody the principles he proposed.

He felt like a fraud. The mask of a pious priest he so precisely crafted for himself was what kept him afloat. For a brief moment, he feared that the feeling of Hannibal peeking into his mind was rooted in reality - that the doctor looked at him and truly saw who he was. He would be terrified.

#hannibal #hannibal tv show #hannibal lecter #will graham #abigail hobbs #hannigram #nbc hannibal #fanfiction #fanfic #ff #priest!will #priest!will graham #priest au #sacriligious #probably #its also on ao3 :)

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judgementdaysunshine · 1 year

Note

Can I get a "tell me where it hurts, love" for William Turner but like him telling this to his daughter who got hurt playing with her brother TwT I just love father Will

Omg ofc 🥹

You are my light

Pairing: Will Turner x Daughter! Reader

Description: After you get hurt playing with your brother Henry, your dad will helps you and tells you how much you mean to him and your mother

You were playing and running around with your older brother Henry laughing as he would catch you and tickle you as your parents watched a few feet away. You were 3 years younger than henry being born in your family home and delivered by your dad who was in awe of the fact of you being born in front of him and holding you in his arms since he wasn't home when henry was born, you continue playing as your mom went and bathed while your dad watched you both smiling at his two children smiling and laughing loudly until he saw you fall down the side of the hill as henry followed after you trying to grab your hand not hearing your dad run over before he pulled the both of you up checking henry only finding dirt and a bruise on his arm while you had a cut on your shoulder and face with some bruises on your leg and arm quickly taking you inside as henry was apologizing for letting you fall. You were still crying but not as bad thankfully for your dad's warm hugs helping the matter while henry went to your mom who was drying off and putting clothes on when henry came saying he was sorry for hurting his baby sister and he hoped that your parents would still love him as she held him telling him it wasn't his fault, "Tell me where it hurts, love so I can help" you grab the back of your shirt trying to point at your back trying to turn but in a lot of pain crying again as he lifts your shirt turning you to see a big cut in the middle of your back along with a huge bruise as he grabs stuff to clean your cuts and anything cold for your bruise as henry and elizabeth walked in seeing tears roll down your face being covered in dirt. "What happened?" he looks up while finishing taking care of your back and cleaning the dirt off you "She fell off the side of the hill and got banged up henry did too but he wasn't bad just a bruise on his arm" she grabs and brings you clothes as your dad cleaned dirt off henry while you changed clothes and hugged your mom waiting on your dad feeling bad for what happened but mainly that henry got hurt "What's wrong sunshine?" you look at your dad while he bends in front of you, "I'm sorry that henry got hurt dad..." his face softens and he moves a strand of hair away from your face "Love it's not your fault and henry is okay he just has a bruise on his arm you got hurt more" you look at him with tears flowing down your face still feeling bad as your dad picked you up and holding you in his arms "He feels bad that you got hurt even when he tried to stop it from happening that he ran in our room thinking you were badly hurt sunshine". You look at as he wiped your tears away showing a small smile "Why do you call me sunshine?" he looks at you chuckling sitting down outside with you in his arms "I call you that because ever since you were born you have been the light of my life other than your mother and Henry of course, you changed me for the better, you made my life so incredible than it was before, you are my light when I am in the dark and when I see you smile or run to me when I come home from being at sea I am not in the dark anymore" you smile big as he kisses your forehead holding you looking at the sun going down "I love you dad" he smiles big as you go in and laying in between him and your mom as henry slept on the other side of your mom "I love you sunshine" you fall asleep on him while he holds you in his arms holding your mom's hand while she held henry in her other arm.

#orlando bloom x reader #will turner #pirates of the carribbean x reader #orlando bloom #pirates of the caribbean #will turner x reader

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baronessblixen · 10 months

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Family Principles

Day 3 for the Eight Nights of Mulder: celebration and my prompt for the 24 Days of X-Mas Files Challenge: family Christmas with separate beds

Summary: They're spending Christmas at Mrs. Scully's house and Mulder is in for a surprise. (AU, fluffy fluff, William is there; wc: 715)

Tagging @today-in-fic @eightnightsofmulder

She should pinch herself, just to make sure she isn't dreaming. In many ways, this Christmas feels like a fantasy. One she had many, many years ago. But it's real, all of it.

Over there, surrounded by a few of her mother's neighbors, stands Mulder. He's grinning from ear to ear, quickly becoming the star of the party. At least as long as their son is napping.

William is without a doubt the not-so-secret superstar of this holiday get-together. With his dimples and his charming smile, he wraps everyone around his little finger. Including her grinchy brother, who tried his damnest not to be swayed. He lasted all of five seconds before he, too, oohed and awwed at his nephew.

"I saw you staring at me." Mulder's voice is a soft murmur as he puts his arms around her, holding her close. She must have been so lost in thought that she didn't even notice him walk over to her. "Do I have something on my face?" He nuzzles her neck, making her giggle.

"You do," she says, swatting at his hand. They may have been a couple for a while, but here, in front of everyone and her family, their public display of affection is new and she doesn't yet know how she feels about it. "You're grinning."

"I'm happy," he says simply. "Your mother throws great parties."

"She invited you every year," Scully reminds him. The first few times she asked him she wondered whether it was because of Christmas. But he never celebrated Hanukkah either. A fact they're planning to change next year so that William can learn about the festival, too.

"I'm a late bloomer." His lips graze the shell of her ear and she shivers. "Do you think anyone would notice if we snuck away?"

"They might." Though she's not sure she cares. "William will wake up soon, though."

"I can be patient," he promises, kissing her cheek. "We have all night."

"If you're prepared to sneak around." Mulder's confused pout makes her smile. She hasn't had time to speak to him about the sleeping arrangements yet. And he's not going to like what she has to say.

"My mom decided to put us in separate bedrooms." Mulder stares at her as if expecting her to admit she's making a joke. "She said, and I quote, she can't let us share a bedroom in good consciousness." Her mother loves Mulder, and she dotes on her youngest grandchild, but she's a woman with principles. One of which is no shared rooms and beds when unmarried.

"Is it because of what I said earlier?" When her mother and Father McCue talked about baptizing William, Scully intervened, saying they weren't sure yet what to do, with Mulder being half Jewish. And his skepticism towards organized religion, but she kept that tidbit to herself. Both her mother and Father McCue had looked surprised and then Mulder decided to call William a religious remix, which caused a few more shocked gasps from both of them.

"Surprisingly not," Scully says. "It's because we're not married."

"Well, I'm sure we can find someone here to change that. We have a priest, a rabbi, and a pastor. This could also be the beginning of a bad joke. This is a joke, right?" Scully shakes her head, and Mulder pouts fully.

"She knows we live together," Mulder says and she nods. "We have a child together." She nods again. "She knows that we- you know."

"Not in her house." He sighs loudly.

"What if I promise her to marry you as soon as possible? I'm gonna ask. You know what? I'm gonna use Willam to argue. He's my secret weapon." He kisses her mouth, his grin returning. He runs off like she's used to, but for once, she doesn't mind one bit.

She just watches as members of her family pat Mulder's back, or engage him in short conversations. Everyone loves him. And he basks in the attention. She knows one Christmas won't erase the years he suffered, where he was alone - sometimes by choice. But it's a beginning.

She knows that her mother won't change her mind about the sleeping arrangements, but she also knows that no matter what, they will find a way to be together tonight.

#ficmas2023 #this one was so much fun to write #they will spend more time with the scully family #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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romanyeva · 1 year

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Been seeing a bit about of the MAwS version of Deathstroke on my feed recently with not a little outrage at his twunkiness or not-dilfness or something and that he might be a little bit pathetic.

Well!

Comics Slade Wilson can be VERY MUCH a pathetic wet meow meow of a man. Here he is in the series end of his latest title, Deathstroke vol. 4 # 50 (2016-2020):

This takes place after his showdown with an alternate Slade Wilson from the Dark Multiverse. He's reconciling with his ex-wife - you know, the one who shot his eye out - and cooking Christmas Eve dinner for the family. Of which, William "Billy" Wintergreen is an honorary member. Just look at Slade's little purple house slippers!

More scans from this series end under the cut:

Rose and Joseph, Slade's kids, and Adeline also greet Wintergreen. So domestic! And look at Joey using wifi to speak through his mom's house speakers. Yes, Joseph Wilson aka Jericho - canonically bisexual - is very much alive in DC Rebirth (and his story is wild and dramatic, tragic and uplifting)! [If something awful happened to Jericho after this issue, let me know.]

Then Slade and Billy go down to the basement to have a little chat.

Looking at the basement, Slade is definitely settled in for the long haul. He has his 'man-cave', need I remind you, in the basement. He's definitely playing nice with the ex no matter how many knife fights they get into with each other. And here he explains to Wintergreen, that he was going to play dead because it would be best for everyone - meaning his family. He may be absolutely sure of his deadly abilities, but his personal ones? Not so much. He's a dangerous guy! It's bad for the kids!

But he's still retired, just not in hiding anymore. He's going to be a responsible partner and father, darn it!

Take a long look at his famous Deathstroke sword, placed in retired honor on the wall, because it will be important in a bit.

You heard the man, Billy, Deathstroke is done! And they still have Christmas dinner to take care of!

Aw, look at this picture of domestic bliss. Adeline and Wintergreen are talking shop; Rose and Joey are playing a video game and being very sibling. But, OH NO, look at Slade and his body language. He's sitting pressed against the corner of the sofa, still in his little purple house slippers, just absolutely slumped and not having a good time. SLADE! SLADE WILSON! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!

His family's chatter just becomes noise in the background as he replays - from earlier in the issue - darker Slade's words in his head. And darker Slade said these same words to him TWICE. Telling him that he - our Slade Wilson - ruined all the good things in his life, that he did it to himself.

So he goes to get the turkey out of the oven.

More domestic stuff, aww 🧡 But where's our man Slade? Billy goes to check.

Turkey abandoned. Back door open. And the infamous Deathstroke sword RIPPED OFF THE WALL AND OUT OF RETIREMENT.

And there he is folks, Deathstroke, back in the shadows. Slade Wilson abandoned his family AGAIN! Slade Wilson, you pathetic wet meow meow of a man! You just cannot - absolutely CANNOT - allow yourself to be happy.

I would say that he isn't doomed by the narrative, but that he dooms himself; but if we were talking CLASSIC TRAGEDY, he has this absolutely fatal flaw that dooms him to be alone. And in a metatextual sense, that's also true, because he's become one of DC's banner villains. They will not let him retire, become anything but a morally dark gray character, so they gave him this ironclad flaw:

What can you take from a man who has nothing? Give him something first.

And Slade Wilson would rather have nothing because he's already lost too much.

#slade wilson #deathstroke #he's a complicated guy #the most dangerous person #and also a pathetic wet meow meow of a man #william wintergreen #adeline kane #rose wilson #joseph wilson

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aftoonfamily · 8 months

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Fnaf Cats Allegiances

That was something in warrior cats right??? Anyway this is just all the characters I have so far and a little about them just cause it’s easier to understand them once you know who is what.

Also this is basically a replacement post from the one earlier that just had a few things dumped in it. This is not all of them I still have a few I wanna draw but yeah

Warnings for general death, violence, child abuse ig if you wanna call it that, and cannibalism

Springtrap (William) was the leader of whatever Clan this is idk. Just a general Clan ig. As a Deputy, he killed their previous leader (I call them Fallenstar cause they are unimportant and just here to die) and went on to become leader of his Clan. Except StarClan knew exactly what he had done and denied him lives. So he went back to the Clan, claimed StarClan denied him leadership, but he was still loyal to his Clan and took the leadership position without the change. Springtrap didn’t really accept that he was not given the nine lives he believed he deserved and so he took them from kits, eating the evidence and claiming each one was killed by the same foxes that killed his own kits.

Hairybelly (Henry) was Springtrap’s deputy. They grew up in a time in the Clan where there wasn’t many kits being born, so they bonded as the youngest few cats for a long while. From then on, they continued to be close friends into adulthood and when they both became fathers. Many of his kits died just after they were born from a number of issues, but two survived. We all already know Springtrap kills Charkit, leaving him just one kit (Sunnykit is his name) that he was fiercely protective of. And when many kits started disappearing, he was so distracted trying to keep his remaining kit safe that he almost didn’t see the connection Springtrap had with all the deaths.

Foxbite (Mike) was originally a warrior apprentice, but on a stupid bet with his denmates, he led his younger brother Cryingkit out of the camp and daring him to go into an abandoned fox den. When Cryingkit ofc refused, he grabbed him by his little baby scruff and threw him inside. It wasn’t as abandoned as originally thought and a fox easily killed the little guy and gobbled him up. After that, Foxpaw couldn’t stomach seeing all that blood and gore again so he was forcibly given a different job that also handled blood and gore. Springtrap had given him the awful name Foxbite as a mockery and then later, when the Clan was starting to get suspicious about all the kittens disappearing, he placed the blame on Foxbite and exiled him.

Charkit, Cryingkit, and Lilykit are the first victims of Springtrap’s gross cannibalism mess. Charkit was murdered first out of jealousy and cursed to be a wondering soul, but then after Springtrap was denied by StarClan his nine lives, he figured out a way to get the lives he desired using Charkit’s soul. It’s not uncommon for cats to eat their dead kittens, but it is wildly uncommon in Warrior Cats which is weird because they are feral cats so.

Anyways Cryingkit we know how he died, but he ended up becoming a “sort of” vengeful spirit to Foxbite. Really he would just haunt the poor dude with visions and dreams of blood and gore, but he was also aware of what their father was doing, so he often used those dreams to show Foxbite what will happen to other kits if he doesn’t stop Springtrap.

Lilykit (Lizzie) died the day she was supposed to become an apprentice. Well, she was littermates with Cryingkit, so technically they were both supposed to become apprentices, but he didn’t make it to the day. Lilykit had followed her father out of camp one day, seeing him leading another kit out. She didn’t see the kill itself, but she did find her father after it was done. He was covered in blood and thought she had witnessed the deed, so he had killed her to cover his tracks. Later, she was the first kit to find out how to possess other cats.

Suzie, Bearkit, Harekit, Finchkit, and Batpaw are the five missing kits. Suzie was a kittypet that her owners thought could be an outdoor cat, only for her to get killed. Bearkit and Harekit are brothers that Springtrap was able to lure out and kill. Finchkit was another he lured out and then chased until he couldn’t run anymore, deliberately injuring his back legs so he couldn’t escape. Springtrap had waited until Batpaw (Cassidy) arrived before killing him. He had offered his apprentice the kill as a symbol she was loyal and would soon be ready to take the deputy position when she is ready. She had refused, Springtrap killed Finchkit, and then hunted Batpaw down and killed her.

Jeremy is a rogue that lived in a barn with his little sister Suzie. Technically he is a kittypet, but he is a completely outdoor cat outside of a few occasions, so he’s more of a rogue than pet. He was worried for his sister when she went missing, but had no reason to believe she was dead until Foxbite and Hairybelly showed up and told him all this crazy shit about his father and the weird forest cats that always tried to fight him. He helped the two of them with shelter while they planned to kill Springtrap, but he did get into a bit of trouble himself.

Vanny is another one of Springtrap’s kits, this time a bastard child of another kittypet. She came to join the Clan to become deputy after Hairybelly left. Despite distrust from the warriors (animatronics) of the Clan, she was very competent and an overall very strong leader. After the numerous attempts to be killed by Foxbite and Hairybelly, Springtrap was blinded and heavily scarred and needed Vanny to take over most of the hard work. She continued his legacy killing kits to give him more lives even when Springtrap didn’t act like Springtrap anymore.

Thunderfoot (GR Freddy) is a decent of Hairybelly (probably from Sunnykit depending on what I want to do) and he knew there is some dark history surrounding the young kits of his Clan. There were not a lot of kits born now, lots of numbers dwindling because of it, but he didn’t understand why. When a scarred and scrappy kit arrived claiming to be a part of this Clan, he took him in, being an early “mentor” to the kit. But then, friends and family started acting strangely around the kit, and he ended up having to save the kit from getting killed by so many warriors in his own Clan. Even the deputy he once trusted was hunting him down.

Wolfstone (Roxie) is a queen of the current Clan. There’s not much use for a queen without kits, but she did have kits before. She had kits with a rogue, the first litter in moons. But one night, her deputy came into the nursery and killed several of them while she fought to protect them. She had woken to three of her kits already dead, but she grabbed her fourth and ran out of the camp to save her. She had found her mate and left the last of her kits with him before going back to her Clan, determined to reveal what had really happened to her kits and kill the one responsible. It didn’t go as well as she had hoped and she was left heavily injured and blinded. She was forced to stay a queen in the nursery as a cruel punishment for the death of her kits.

Dirtkit (Gregory) and Carrotkit (Cassie) are two displaced kits from whatever Clan this is. Dirtkit was the secret kit of another warrior and Carrotkit was the last kit of Wolfstone. Carrotkit had befriended Dirtkit after hearing stories of forest cats that she has heard her father tell her about her mother. They were both determined to go find the Clans to be reunited, but Carrotkit’s father had kept her from going with Dirtkit. It wasn’t until he came back to bring her there did she go along. But something was off about Dirtkit. He didn’t seem right.

Chickadeetooth (GR Chica) and Lizardclaw (Monty) are some of the loyal warriors to Vanny and Springtrap. Chickadeetooth is Thunderfoot’s sister and a close friend to Wolfstone (before she tries murdering kits lol) and Lizardclaw is just an average warrior that is just a little too desperate for a fight and some blood on his paws. They both get what’s coming to them.

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #aftoontalks #fnaf cats au #I am not tagging all of them

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